Title is inspired by "Of Mice and Men," by John Steinbeck. I've never read the book, but I liked the naming scheme.

This story has been in the works since- well, I'm not actually sure how long it's been. I know I've been working on it since the beginning of March of this year, so I think the idea was probably brought up to me during mid-to-late February of this year. Tamuril2 originally sent this in to me as a prompt, and then we ended up hashing out the details over many pms and talked about stuff that they wanted to see in the story. Even they don't know everything I have planned, though.

This story is currently set to be 10-11 chapters long, so I'll say 10 to be safe. I only have about 6.5 chapters written right now, and all of them need heavy editing, but I'm going to try and post one chapter a week, most likely on the weekend.

Huge thanks go out to Tamuril2 for being so patient with my progress on this fic.

Warnings will be put at the beginning of each chapter. I hope you all enjoy. Please let me know what you think, because I've spent so much time with this fic that I honestly can't tell how people are going to like.

This is set a couple years before the show starts, and around a year after Mac and Jack started working for the DXS- which, in the first episode of the show, becomes the Phoenix Foundation.

As of right now, this is not officially connected with any of my other stories, but characters from them may appear from time to time.

Warnings: on-screen violence, gunshot wounds

The day things go right for us on a 'milk run,' Jack thinks dryly to himself as he dodges bullets, will be the day I stop worrying about Mac on missions. Which is to say, it'll never happen.

Jack and Mac had been tasked with a simple information pickup- an agent had placed a flash drive in a locker in a train station, and the team was supposed to pick it up and return back to DXS headquarters.

At this point, Jack just hears "simple" as an abbreviation of "simply terrible."

"You okay, Jack?" Mac shouts over the noise of bullets. The two men have separated and taken shelter behind two large statues that are important to the townsfolk. Exactly why this is, Jack isn't sure. The town itself is a tiny place in the middle of Nowhere, Wyoming, and the only reason Jack can think for the agent picking this place to hide out is because it's the one place no one would suspect for sensitive information being dropped off.

Jack shouts back, "Doing just peachy! You?"

There is a moment of silence, and then Mac confirms his relative safety. "We need to take these guys down," he yells as he motions to the few civilians that are scattered around the station as they try to stay safe. Jack's silent, knowing Mac's mind is racing at this point, and instead focuses on shooting back at the three men that currently have guns pointed at him and the other civilians.

Sure enough, a few moments later, there's a the sound of a small explosion and parts of the nearest statue fall and hit the ground near enough the thugs that they're knocked to the ground by the flying rubble. Jack quickly makes his way to the men, pulling zip ties from his back pocket as he runs.

Two of the men are dazed and one seems to be unconscious. Jack quickly sets about securing the dazed men first, knowing that even though they might seem out of it, there's nothing actually guaranteeing it. He's pulled the "fake concussion" trick more than once himself.

As Jack tightens the ties around the wrists of the second man, the thug that previously seemed to be unconscious moves, lunging for his gun, which had fallen to the floor a few inches away from him. Jack moves towards him instantly, acting on years of instinct alone, shouting, "Get down," as he tackles the man.

As Jack makes contact, he hears the man's gun go off. His heart pounds with adrenaline and the fear of what he might find when he looks up, Jack restrains the man and knocks him unconscious with a well-placed punch. Then he turns towards the area where the gun seemed to go off towards, somehow knowing before he sees it what he's going to find.

Jack's heart jumps into his throat as he spots Mac. The kid's crumpled on the floor with blood pooling underneath his side. The older man dashes forward, ignoring the young man lying on the floor a few feet from Mac and staring at the blond with shock plastered to his face.

Jack gently rolls his friend onto his back, letting out a relieved sigh when he sees that the blood is coming from under Mac's hand- which is clutched around his bicep, not his side or chest, which would've been much, much worse.

The older man immediately tears a strip off of the bottom of his shirt and folds it into a makeshift pad, then tears another strip off and uses it to tie the pad over the bullet hole in his friend's arm. That done, he peers down at the younger man, who's breathing shallowly through his nose and staring up at the ceiling. Jack pats his cheek softly, bringing the blond's attention back to him. "You okay? That the only place you were hit?"

Jack had only heard one bullet discharged, but it never hurts to be sure. The agent's fears are relieved when Mac shakes his head after a moment, his eyes glassy with pain. Then, voice hoarse with pain, the younger man asks- or mumbles, more accurately, "Help me sit up?"

Jack's hesitant to do so, but he knows that the DXS- and medical assistance- would be there in a few minutes, having been called in by Jack as soon as the mission went south. He nods and, gently, assists the blond in sitting up, steadying the kid when his face paled.

Now that Mac's sitting up, Jack can see that there isn't an exit wound in the other side of the blond's bicep. Grimacing to himself, Jack sits back on his heels- still keeping a supporting grip on the younger man's unwounded arm- and looks at Mac. "I told you to get down, didn't I?"

Mac nods, his eyes absently scanning the room. Then he seems to fully process what Jack's saying. His gaze snaps up to meet Jack's, his eyes alight with panic. "I pushed someone- where-"

He's cut off as the man Jack had noticed lying on the floor near Mac earlier speaks up, a slight Italian accent coloring his voice. "I'm here. I'm fine. You saved me."

Mac stares at the guy- kid, really, because he must be around Mac's age, probably twenty-two. Jack looks too, scanning the young man for any injuries. There are none other than the beginnings of what seem to be a few very impressive bruises, and he turns his gaze back to his partner. Mac looks up at Jack, his face still pale. "That's good," he slurs.

Then he drops like a rock, heading towards the floor so fast that Jack's barely able to grab him fast enough to stop him from slamming into the stone floor.

When Mac finally resurfaces from unconsciousness, he's staring at a white ceiling and lying on something that definitely isn't the floor of the train station, given the softness of the surface. He tries to sit up, but all thoughts of motion are put to an abrupt halt when a lancing pain goes through his arm and the air leaves his chest with a harsh cough. He falls back against the cushions, his breathing harsh after the exertion.

A moment later, Jack's hovering over his bed, his expression a strange mix of relieved and worried that bizarrely makes Mac want to laugh. They've probably got him on the good stuff. "You're finally awake. How you feelin'?"

Mac groans again. "Like I got shot."

A smile flickers across Jack's face. "That's… pretty accurate. You were shot on our mission- the data, remember- while you were pushing some kid out of the way of a bullet. You lost enough blood to make you pass out, but when the paramedics examined you they were able to stabilize you. They got the bullet out of your arm, but Patty insisted on you being brought here to L.A. for observation."

Mac digests all of this, blinking slowly at the sudden onslaught of information. Then he asks, "How long until we can leave?"

Jack smiles at that- a real smile, his first in a while. "Well, I can leave any time I want. You, however, have to wait until Friday."

Mac glances over at his friend, suspiscious. "And what day is today?"

Jack's grin grows wider. "Monday."

"Jack, that's four days! I was shot in the arm, not the chest; there's no need for me to be here that long."

"The doctors said that there was something on the bullet. They want to make sure it isn't a slow-acting poison- they know enough about law enforcement and gangs that it's a real concern. Plus, Patty says she knows who the people that shot you were, and they've got a bit of a reputation for pulling dirty tricks like that."

Mac sighs, attempting to bring his hand up to rub the bridge of his nose but quickly stopping as pain once again shoots through his arm. "Fine. Not like I've got any choice in the matter."

Jack shrugs, not even trying to hide his smile. "Not really."

The blond glares at him, but there's no venom in his tone when he mutters. "I hate you."

Jack just laughs. "I know."

A few hours later, just as Mac's beginning to become bored enough to have a familiar light in his eyes that Jack knows means 'hide the toasters you want to keep functioning in a normal toaster capacity, because anything he finds will never be the same,' a man knocks on the doorframe of the room.

Jack looks up from where he's watching his friend look up DIY videos on his phone and realizes that the man is vaguely familiar, as well as someone- a much younger someone- trailing behind him that is definitely familiar.

The guard that has been stationed outside the door glances in over the older man's shoulder. "They said they wanted to talk to you, Mr. MacGyver."

Mac glances up from his phone, turning it off and setting it on the bedside table. He stares at the younger of the two men standing in the doorway for a moment before his face lights up in realization. He motions towards the man. "You're the guy from the train station."

The young man nods. "Yes, and this is my father. May we come in?"

Mac nods back. "Yeah, come on in."

The older man takes the remaining seat in the room, while the younger stands behind him. As soon as they're situated, the older man begins to speak. "I am Francis Colombo, and this is my son, Antonio. We came to thank you for saving Antonio's life."

Jack noticed with interest that the man had a thick Italian accent, something that isn't too common in sunny L.A. Then he turns his attention back to Mac, and has to fight theurge to laugh at the embarrassed flush creeping up the blond's neck as his tendency to stay out of the spotlight showed itself. The blond awkwardly shrugs, shaking his head. "I mean, I didn't really do that much. I just shoved him out of the way without thinking."

Antonio speaks up for the first time, shaking his head vehemently. A faint Italian accent paints his words. It's not as strong as his father's but it's still there. "No, you did very much. It was very brave of you to do that in the situation we were in."

Francis inclines his head. "Exactly. If there is anything we can do for you, you must let us know. We owe you a debt of gratitude."

Jack, in the back of his mind, feels something prickle, but pushes it aside. He was probably being paranoid. Leaning forward in his chair, he speaks to Antonio, who looks to be about the same age as his friend, perhaps a year or so older. "How did you guys find us?"

Francis shrugs. "I am very connected, and I have a few friends in your organization. A Miss Thornton and I go very far back."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "I see."

The four sit in silence for a moment before Francis stands. "Again, you must tell us if there is anything that you need. I cannot thank you enough for saving my son's life."

MacGyver nods awkwardly, and Antonio says a quick goodbye as well before following his father out the door.

Once they're gone, Mac glances over at his friend, who is staring out the door after their visitors with a strange expression on his face. "You okay?"

Jack shakes his head briefly, as if dismissing a thought or two. "Yeah, just… that guy seems really familiar, and I don't know why."

The younger man shrugs. "He said he was friends with Thornton, so maybe he's come to the office and talked to her a few times. I mean, he obviously knew that we were some type of agency."

Jack frowns at that. "Yeah, and he was really subtle with the way he slipped that in there, like he wanted us to know that he knew, but he also knew that we didn't want anyone else to know that he knew or to know what we did."

Mac stares over at his friend. "Know doesn't even sound like a word anymore."

Jack breaks into a grin at that, reaching forward and ruffling Mac's blond hair. "Nerd."

The younger man squawks, arms flailing as he reaches up with his good arm to try and fend off Jack, but he has an unmistakable look of tiredness about him. Jack frowns as he ses the way Mac's energy is flagging, and leans forward. "You doing okay there, bud?"

Mac nods again, trying to hide a wince as he pokes at his bicep. "Yeah, don't worry about me."

Jack narrows his eyes at his friend. "You're looking kind of pale there, man."

Mac shrugs, trying to look nonchalant, but his effort is ruined by the way his face is pinched with pain, especially around his eyes. The older man nods to himself before standing. "Yup. Those pain meds are probably starting to wear off, I bet. I'm gonna go get someone to give you some more. Be right back."

Jack walks out, ignoring the glare that Mac's giving his back. A moment later, he's back with a kind-looking nurse, who takes Mac's pulse as she talks. "On a scale of one to ten, how bad's the pain?"

Mac pretends to think. "Maybe a three."

Jack scoffs. "That means at least a seven, ma'am."

The nurse smiles as she finishes taking Mac's pulse. Then she hands him a couple pills, motioning for him to take them. The blond hesitates, and the nurse says, "I was under the impression that you wanted to be out of here by Friday?"

The young man nods warily. The nurse, a middle-aged, motherly woman, smiles again and continues, "Well, unless you take those pills, you're definitely not going to be able to get out of here before Monday, at the earliest."

Mac takes the pills.

Jack huffs a small laugh, and, ignoring the glare that his friend sends his way, says, "Thank you, ma'am."

The nurse smiles again- she seems to be a very happy woman, given the amount of time that she spends with a smile on her face- and leaves, humming happily to herself. Jack watches her go, muttering, "I like her," before turning his attention back to his friend.

The younger man is slumped down in the bed, his eyelids already beginning to droop. Jack watches as the young man falls into a doze, and finds himself thinking yet again about the strange visitors from earlier that day.

In the hospital parking garage, a slightly stout middle-aged man sits in his car and speaks into a cell phone. "I found him. How do you want me to proceed?"