Fear is a Liar

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: So this little fic came about for a couple of reasons. For one, I couldn't help but to wonder how Angus MacGyver ever came to be so fascinated with bombs. I mean even in middle school he blew up the football field, long before he joined the Army as an EOD. This is my explanation and a bit of an Easter story tossed in. I knew I couldn't finish the entire thing, because it may take a while, this tale I see brewing in the distance. But I hope this serves as a Prologue and wets your appetite for the story to come.

RcJ

The nightmares were unexpected and harder to handle mostly because these didn't belong to Jack Dalton. They'd punched the night with startling regularity for fourteen days straight, transforming the hour between three and four in the morning from peaceful to heart stopping and terror-inducing. At home, Jack would stumble out of bed by rote now, no longer reaching for his gun in the night stand or tripping on his discarded boots as he rushed to square off with whatever danger had found them. He could maneuver the hallway without a light, as somber and unhurried as a nightly patrolman on his regular beat as he made his way from his room to the third door down where his little brother, Angus MacGyver, slept, or in the case of the last few weeks, battled demons that stalked his dreams.

Only this night found Jack in Austin, Texas in the rambling old ranch house he still considered home. He'd mostly grown up at his grandparent's place but the landscape had changed and was vastly different from the residence he currently shared with Mac and Harry MacGyver in Mission City. For instance there weren't treacherous old stairs to maneuver, the ones Jack half fell down now as he scrambled from third floor to the second floor where Mac had taken over Jack's childhood bedroom as his own. In California there also wasn't the two grown dogs thundering after him, their paws loud on the hard floor as they landed with twin thuds at his feet, wagging about as if they'd sprung straight from unconsciousness into high gear as Labradors tended to do when they thought some adventure was about to be underway.

Perhaps Jack hadn't really thought through his decision to offer up the room across from his brother- the one he typically claimed when visiting his grandparents-to Harry. He'd only recognized that the older man would have a harder time managing the steps to the recently converted attic suite. Jack's Nana had no doubt added the twin beds to the once storage space in hopes that she'd have additional young ones underfoot during the quickly approaching summer vacation as she'd invited not only Bozer to join Mac on his yearly pilgrimage but Riley Davis as well. Jack really hadn't considered his sacrifice a big deal. Maybe he had merely hoped and naively believed that Mac's ghosts wouldn't find the boy here on what had always been Holy ground. But he was wrong.

"Jack?"

His grandmother's soft voice greeted him as he made it out of the narrow stairwell and into the hallway. She was standing just outside her door, a flannel bathrobe draped over her well-worn cotton gown, her long silver hair hung loose in soft waves and worry shone in her dark eyes. JP was just behind her, his hands gripping her shoulders. The concerned frown on his face spoke volumes and Jack knew it had taken a great deal of restraint for his grandfather not to race the few yards to Mac's rescue. At least he'd told them about the kid's ordeal, the things he'd witnessed and been made to endure all because of Jack's stupidity and James' MacGyver's fool-hearty decisions. Jack had warned them about the dreams, asked them to let him handle the fallout.

"It's okay, Nana. I've got this," Jack lied. He so didn't have a clue as to what to do to help his brother. Unable to meet his grandfather's knowing gaze, he offered a weak smile to Beth. "Get some sleep while you can. We all know you'll be up nursing the Easter ham before long."

Another scream heralded Jack by name this time. Mac's cry for him shattered whatever levity he'd hoped to conjure, snuffing it out as sure as a candle flame doused by cupped breath.

"Go on, Son," JP said, anxiously. He was never one to sit idly by while someone he loved anguished, not an animal and most definitely not one of his beloved grandsons. "I'll put on some coffee for us, hot chocolate for our boy."

Jack knew better than to argue, so he merely nodded and hurried on down the hallway. As Beth was fond of saying, the apples didn't fall far from the trees in the Dalton orchard, and Jack's grandfather was as dogmatic as the brood he'd help sire.

Jack didn't hesitate in opening his brother's door, even when he caught sight of Harry in his own doorway across the way, bleary-eyed and looking almost as disappointed and shell-shocked as Jack. It seemed they both had been overly optimistic. In their defense, it wasn't a grand leap, as Mac had seemed his rambunctious, spirited self at the egg hunt yesterday. It had been Jack who'd nearly had a full blown panic attack when his brother had disappeared from his sight at one point.

"This can't go on, bud."

Jack clenched his jaw at Harry's gentle declaration. He didn't even acknowledge that he'd heard as he pushed into Mac's room just as the kid called out for him again.

"I'm here, Mac," Jack assured as he entered, nearly tripping over a disgruntled pig, who apparently although insistent upon sleeping with his favorite person was not happy with having his beauty rest interrupted. Dodger grunted loudly as he made his way past Jack and out into the hallway. Jack flipped on the light.

"Mac?" Jack searched the room. As he had each night back in California, he found a rumbled bed empty of the ten year old boy and the kid's half-grown pup, Archimedes, who'd made the road trip with them to Texas. That first time he'd burst upon the scene in their own house he'd discovered blankets and pillows in disarray and his brother and the dog missing. It had nearly been his undoing. So soon after getting Mac back, Jack had been instantly convinced the kid had been taken from him again. It was only Archimedes whining and pawing at the closet door that had alerted him to the truth and stopped him from tearing the place apart.

The dog was nowhere to be seen currently but the sounds of hitched breath and a covered sob alerted Jack his brother's post nightmare routine had not been altered even in the new surroundings. His eyes went to the antique wardrobe that sat adjacent to the sleigh bed. Beth's father, an accomplished carpenter much like his beloved Jesus, had built it for the newlyweds nearly fifty years before. As a child Jack had always thought it looked like the perfect ticket to Narnia. Maybe his little brother had hoped to escape into a world where kidnappers didn't take revenge on father's and heroes were more like the fierce Aslan and less like flawed big brothers who failed those they had sworn to protect. Jack ran a hand over his tired eyes, asking for Job's patience and praying for all the necessary things that had been wrung out of him over the past month.

"There you are." Jack opened the doors, greeted by the strong scent of cedar. Relief washed over him at the sight of his kid brother, sitting hunched beneath the stored winter coats and atop spare quilts and the extra pillows. Although a tight squeeze by any means, Archimedes sat stoically beside his charge, the Golden Retriever pup that JP had gotten as a Christmas present from Beth a few months before was planted squarely in Mac's lap, despite its huge size. The scene would have been sort of sweet, definitely comical, except for the fact Jack could see the tremors quaking through Mac as well as the boy's red-rimmed eyes that were visible beneath the fringe of blond bangs that were damp with sweat and stuck to his forehead.

"Jack." Mac lifted his arms out to Jack like he used to when he was a toddler and expected to be picked up on command. Those years of toting the kid around had disappeared somewhere around Mac's fourth birthday, along with the desire to hold hands and the pleas to be rocked to sleep. They'd made a brief reappearance after their mother's death, but quickly gave way to the strong streak of stubborn independence that defined Angus MacGyver's personality. The act of regression sent a bittersweet ache through Jack's heart, although he was admittedly glad the kid hadn't wanted him to climb inside as well. The first week of nightmares had ended with Jack joining his brother in his closet, folding his muscled six foot plus frame among the toys and books until Mac could be convinced the danger had passed and it was safe to come out.

Jack first reached out and scooped the pup from Mac's lap, receiving a wet tongue across the cheek for his trouble. Once the dog was on the floor, Archimedes joined his new friend, both staring expectantly at the older human, Archimedes giving a soft whine, unwilling to budge until Mac was also recovered from his self-imposed prison.

"Come on, bud." Jack grimaced as the kid wrapped his arms around him and he boosted the boy up onto his hip. Mac was no lightweight, too big to lug around. On a normal day the ten year old would have refused to be carried, cringed at such a suggestion in fact. As it was now, he wound himself around Jack like python.

"I'm sorry." Mac pressed his face into the crook of Jack's neck. "Please don't tell JP and Nana."

"I promise, little brother." Jack understood the desire not to look weak, to hate having your deepest fears exposed and lain bare to those you held in highest regard. He still remembered Harry waking him from his own set of dreams. The ones in which he was tormented by the faces not of those he'd killed per say, but the accusing eyes of those he hadn't been able to save. There may have even been a moment when he'd clung to Harry with all the desperation he could now feel bleeding off his kid brother. Jack pushed aside memories of the desert and brushed his lips against the boy's damp hair. "Was it the same dream, bud?" He asked gently. "Are you okay?"

Mac's arms tightened, his nod of confirmation bumping his head against Jack's chin. "Nicholas set off the bomb before we could get into the closet. You…" Mac's breath hitched. "You didn't get me in time and everything blew up around me."

"Hey, hey," Jack shushed as he sat down on the bed, Mac still in his arms. He could feel the hot silent tears that now leaked no doubtedly from the kid's eyes which were screwed tightly shut. "I've got you now." Jack ran a hand up and down his brother's back as Archimedes jumped up beside them. "Just like I got you then. You're okay. We're both alive, bud. We made it out together, Mac."

"I know." Mac sighed, his head, dropping to rest heavily on Jack's shoulder. Jack knew the kid had probably brought his hand to his mouth, trying to resist the new habit of chewing on his nails. They were gnawed down to the nub and Jack had taken to carrying paper clips in his pocket to give the kid something to do with his nervous energy. Mac twisted his fingers in Jack's shirt. "When I'm awake I remember everything just like it was. But when I'm asleep…"

"Fear changes everything." Jack gave his own sigh, understanding only too well what his little brother was enduring. PTSD had been an unwanted souvenir Jack had never expected to carry home from the war and he often found himself at its mercy. The only good thing to come out of Mac's kidnapping was that Jack's own issues had seemed to go into remission. Compartmentalizing trauma was hard enough for a twenty five year old adult and although Mac had made a quick study of the skill considering the hardships he'd endured in his brief ten years, he was still a child and couldn't manage on his own.

Harry, along with Jack's sponsor, might have contributed the psychological reprieve to the fact Jack had finally taken their advice and been going to regular support meetings at the VA when his work schedule allowed, but Jack knew in his heart that as much as the monthly group gatherings of his peers, fellow veterans who'd come back with both physical and emotional wounds- had been helping, it was clearly the fact his kid brother desperately needed him to hold his shit together that was temporarily keeping Jack's own monsters at bay.

"Why won't it stop, Jack? Why can't I make it stop?" Mac's small voice caught, forcing Jack from his contemplating. "Why can't you?"

The questions were like daggers. Jack's gut twisted with guilt, soul-aching regret and he had to swallow hard before he could speak. "I don't know, bud. I wish to hell I did, kiddo. But I don't. I'd do anything…," When he finished his voice was as choked as Mac's. He felt worn and more than a bit helpless, a state that was foreign to him and not easily accepted.

"It's okay, Jack," Mac whispered, his arms once more tightening around his big brother. Jack knew it wasn't to seek comfort this time, but to offer it and the complete 180 had his heart hurting worse, his guilt and sense of uselessness multiplying in the face of the ten year old's ability to push aside his own pain, to willingly sacrifice his solace in the face of hoping to help another. "I'm sorry. It's not your fault."

"It's not yours either, little brother." Jack inched back just enough that he could see Mac's face. He reached up and pushed the boy's bangs off his brow, leaving his hand resting against the ten-year-old's face. There were mushroom colored circles beneath Mac's eyes, the usually vibrant blue irises dulled slightly to the silvery imitation of sky before a storm rolled in. The kid was obviously functioning on far too little sleep, more hyped and frenetic during the day than he typically tended to be. Harry was right. They were going to have to do something.

"This is all Nicholas Helman's doing, Mac. You get that right?" Jack bit back the desire to also add James MacGyver to the guilty party. He ran a thumb along his brother's cheek, wiping away the last trace of tears.

"But if I hadn't talked to him…"

"Kiddo, you can't second guess yourself, just like I can't change what happened." Jack waited for Mac to stop picking at a strand of thread that had unraveled from the end of his shirt and meet his gaze. "But I can promise you that he will never hurt you again."

Mac nodded, even offering a hint of dimple as he tried for a smile that at least made Jack feel like he'd said the right thing. He tilted his head, thoughtfully. "The lucky egg I found yesterday had a full-sized Snickers bar in it. Do you want to share it for pre-breakfast?"

"Pre-breakfast?" Jack laughed. He knew his habit of plying the kid with whatever junk food they could dig up in Harry's kitchen after the nightmares left neither of them with the ability or desire for more sleep was probably going to come back to haunt him. At the least, Mac's next dentist report would probably not be pretty and as Mac's guardian Jack was pretty sure he should be more concerned about that than he was. Where were the real adults when you needed them? "Is that what we're calling it now?"

The ten year old shrugged, finally climbing down from the bed. Jack noticed he was wearing one of his old Dallas Cowboy tees, probably leftover from the days when Jack and their mother had actually lived at The Narrow Path Ranch. "Unless you can think of a better name."

"How about we skip the naming and the Snickers considering Nana Beth is probably already downstairs whipping up pancakes and waffles on top of getting ready for the Easter spread she's got planned for us and the rest of the family after church."

Mac's meager smile vanished and Jack reached out to tug the kid's shirt. "What's going on in that big brain of yours now, bud?"

Mac glanced away, then to his feet where he seemed to study the wood floors with new interest. "Do you think if I prayed to God to stop the nightmares that he would?"

Jack didn't want to explain that so far his own heavenly requests had seemingly gone unheard so he offered a non-committal shrug and a heavy sigh that brought the boy's gaze back to him. Jack rolled his shoulder, running a hand over his mouth. "Well, Nana Beth says we should always be willing to ask no matter the task."

"Nana Beth also believes Jesus came back to life today after being murdered on a cross and shut up in a tomb for three days." Mac's mouth twisted into a frown, one that actually warmed Jack's heart and relieved some of the steel bands from across his back. "I'm not sure her logic is the most sound."

"Faith and logic rarely walk hand in hand, kid." Jack tugged on the boy's shirt again, bringing him close once more. He rested his forehead against Mac's. "Sometimes a man just has to believe. You get what I mean?"

Mac nodded and Jack let him go. "Good."

Mac licked his lips, his knowing blue eyes holding Jack's dark gaze. "Like you believed you'd find me, even after the police told you I was probably dead."

"Yeah." Jack felt bile rise to the back of his throat at the thoughts of the evidence bag he'd taken from Matty three weeks ago with a trembling hand. It had contained the all too familiar mud-smeared Los Angeles Dodgers jacket and single soggy blue Converse tennis shoe. "Just like that, bud."

"Did you pray for me?" Mac was looking down at his bare feet once more where the Golden Retriever puppy had curled up and gone back to sleep. The ten year old reached down and picked him up, carefully hefting his heavy weight over his shoulder much like Jack had done Mac's when he'd scooped him from the wardrobe. Archimedes sighed, laying his head on Jack's lap as if he could sense that something had joined them in the room, something dark and foreboding that had been hanging around since Jack had brought his brother back to California. Or maybe he was just tired of sharing his person with the exuberant pup.

"Constantly, kid," Jack managed, unable to stop the images of him shielding a terrified Mac as the world exploded around them.

"Then I'll give it a shot." Mac said, simply. And just like that Jack felt a bright spot in the darkness, a pushing back against the heaviness in his heart. It was another glimpse of the old Mac, the one whose spirit was irrepressible and open to any possibility and Jack was just desperate enough to buy into the whole Easter miracle bit. Unlike his little brother who quickly added, "But I'm still not sold on the idea of the resurrection."

"Just don't let Nana Beth here you say that, kid." Jack snorted. "You want to be the one to chop the head off the lamb cake this year don't you? And don't forget the tongue lashing you got after trying to discount the miracle of the fishes."

"I won't say anything to Nana, but I still have some serious questions." Mac supplied, thoughtfully as he shifted the puppy to the bed where it tumbled against Archimedes in a hopes to start a early morning wrestling match. "I mean what does a giant bunny who hides eggs and leaves treats in a basket have to do with Easter? Bunnies don't even lay eggs. Why isn't it a chicken? Or better yet, a Goose or maybe an Eagle. Why do we get new shoes? And what does it all have to do with Jesus dying for us on a cross?"

"Those are some very good questions, bud." Jack felt only slightly guilty that the promise of such a philosophical debate was far preferable to his brother's painful interrogatives from before. He reached out once more, this time ruffling the kid's hair in an attempt to annoy the ten year old and distract from the fact it was still hours before sunrise and both of them would be exhausted soon. Maybe he also needed to remind himself that although they were a mess, they were still together. They were still brothers. Nothing had changed that, not even the revenged driven machinations of a mad man. When Mac gave him a mock glower, even one that felt a little forced, Jack winked at the kid. "Mind you, ones that sound just perfect for your Sunday school teacher that is."

To be continued…