Love Wins

By: Ridley

A/N: This is so long in between updates. I started this story last April! It is in my For Family AU. If you have not read Fireflies in the Rain, this will make no sense. My suggestion is that you re-read chapter one of Love Wins also before continuing with this one. I had to do so a couple of times to re-orient myself to what the heck was happening. For those who have so sweetly inquired, for the foreseeable future, I will only be writing in my AU's as I haven't watched the show since Jack left and feel I have little to offer in the way of tags. I hope you enjoy this, but be mindful there could be triggers. I write about the loss of a beloved parent to cancer, and the kidnapping of a child. Don't worry for those like myself who are squeamish at heart and highly sensitive to certain situations. My writing is never going to get past PG 13.

RcJ.

There is a scene that keeps repeating in Jack's head as he sits in the back of the black SUV alongside Matilda Weber as they barrel through LA traffic heading to some location unknown to him. It's one he hasn't thought about in years. One that is as painful as it is treasured.

He keeps it hidden deep in the recesses of his memories like a wary pirate with buried treasure in his backyard because although it is precious, it is also dangerous. Once uncovered it is blindingly beautiful, shining light on old wounds, gouging at still tender spots that make Jack squirm, yearning for a trip to Colton's with the intention of ordering shots until the sharp, cutting edges of it are dulled by the buffer of alcohol. The remembered pain beckons his old, good for nothing buddies like a beacon, bidding them to come close and get reacquainted. Jack can't afford friends like Jim Bean and Jack Daniels anymore. His life has changed so much in the past months. He has a brother to consider. One who now relies on him to take care of him full time. At least he hopes that is still the case.

The thought of Mac being lost to him is like hitting replay on the vivid recollection. And it begins again.

It is from the time when his mother was in the hospital, near the end. Just the thought of those months, after the climax of the battle had been fought and unbeknownst to them lost, brings a surge of grief, so heavy and inescapable that it physically curls on his chest like a hundred pound purring cat that is no way comforting but instead makes it hard to breathe. He briefly wonders if Matty senses the way his breath catches because she shifts in her seat. Jack clears his throat, his gaze drifting out of the window, but the passing buildings and cars are only a background blur for the real scene.

What he sees clearly in his mind's eye is from a day when things had still seemed hopeful, even though the acute myelogenous leukemia had seemed to have its way with his mother. She was a shell of her former self thanks as much to the treatment she was receiving as to the voracity of the disease she was fighting, but still it had been having one of her rare good days when color even rose to her sunken and sallow cheeks, her light blue eyes not as dulled, but alight with their typical intelligence and humor. Jack had actually been persuaded by her ribbing about his questionable academic standing to attend his afternoon class at the community college, leaving Mac at the hospital with a promise he'd treat them all to their favorite cheeseburgers from Mama Colton's when he returned.

He'd barely paid attention through class, his eyes going to the clock more often than to the notes on the board, rushing off as soon as the professor dismissed them despite the conversation attempted by the cute redhead he'd once chatted up at the beginning of the semester. Picking up burgers and making it back to the hospital before the doctor's rounds seemed the only goal worth accomplishing, the only one surmountable or honorable of this attention. Jack had gotten buttermilk pie to boot and was only thinking of how it would make both his mother and little brother smile when he'd rushed for the room. He wasn't entirely certain what had made him draw up short, hesitate outside the partially opened door, but he'd done so, still panting slightly from the rush through the long corridor.

Maybe it was the last golden rays of sunlight that had streaked through the window like a spotlight on his mother's hospital bed to play up the bright colors of the scarf wrapped around her head, or the way the beams made Mac's blond hair appear to glow. It could have been the look on their mom's face, completely unguarded and unabashed as she regarded her youngest son who sat curled beneath her bony arm, his back pressed into her concave chest as he colored in her journal, the one she'd taken to writing in every evening, the one she coaxed her nurses and doctors to scribble in as well. Ever the teacher.

The effect on her smooth, pale face was ethereal, her fine features appearing almost marble, as if she were being transformed into one of the stone angel sculptures that stood in the Catholic Church Nana Beth drug them to on Christmas Eve, despite none of them being Catholic. It was likely that what truly brought Jack to a complete heartbreaking stop, was that in that very moment he saw and understood the terrible truth. She was lost to them.

Even though her heart was still beating beneath the thin flowered gown, and she was still breathing with only the aid of the cannula beneath her nose, she had so obviously accepted her fate. Their mother looked resigned and beaten. Done for. Jack forgot how to breathe.

"What color is love, mommy?" Mac's voice had every bit of its typical inquisition, but was quieter than normal. Jack barely heard it over the beeping of the machines monitoring their mother's vitals and the background noise of the corridor. If it had been any other voice, one Jack wasn't so in tune to listening for, he'd missed the inquiry all together.

"Why do you ask?" Their mother's weakened voice held a hint of amusement.

"I want to draw a picture of it," his brother explained, frowning thoughtfully.

"Love doesn't have a particular color or features, Angus. It's like drawing the wind."

Mac had stopped what he was doing, glancing up then. "How would I draw the wind?"

"Well, I suppose you'd have to consider of all the ways you know the wind is near and incorporate them into your drawing." A smile played around her mouth.

"I see the leaves and branches moving in the trees," Mac offered quickly.

"Exactly. What else?"

"I feel it on my face when we go to the beach."

"I love the beach." Jack could see her smile changing, her chapped, peeling lips quavering as the game took a melancholy turn, if only for her.

"It makes the sails on daddy's boat billow and your hair fly everywhere." Even from across the room, Jack could see his little brother's face pink, his smattering of freckles standing out like they always did when he was embarrassed or feeling guilty. He must have worried the statement about their mother's hair, which had once been long, lustrous and the color of sun-warmed wheat, might hurt her feelings seeing as it had all been taken by the first treatments. Even at five, Mac had an uncanny sensitivity that was endearing, but also left him vulnerable to be hurt by the not so careful considerations of his schoolmates. "At least it used to," he muttered.

"I remember." Their mom laughed, running a hand over Mac's hair. "Now the wind would make my scarf dance in mid-air." She picked up an end of the silk material and fluttered it, trailing it across Mac's cheek.

"Like a kite." Mac nodded, his enthusiasm returning with her reaction.

"A soaring kite is an excellent way to show the wind without actually showing it, sweetheart."

"So if I were going to make a picture of the wind, I could draw daddy's boat in the water with the sails full. He would be driving. Jack would be fishing off the bow, and waving at me and you because we're on the beach flying a kite with our dog, Archimedes." Mac looked up at her. "You'd have your scarf on, but I'd also draw your hair, too, even longer and prettier because Jack says it will grow back."

Jack winced from his hidden position, wondering at whether he was wrong to promise his brother such a small thing, let alone the ideas he'd given him that their lives would soon be back to normal, that they'd go to the beach again, go on picnics in the park. Take another vacation as a family.

"I think that would be a perfect masterpiece." Their mom reached out and tickled Mac, his laughter vanquishing Jack's dark thoughts. "But we don't have a dog, Angus."

"But we might someday." Mac's voice was hopeful, and Jack swallowed thickly, blinking back the burning behind his eyes. Tortured by how their lives had changed so damn fast.

"Someday." She planted a kiss on his head. "Of course."

"But right now I want to draw a picture of how much I love you."

"Then it's a good thing for you that the wind and love have a lot in common. They are both invisible to the eye, but we know they're present when we feel them, when we see the actions they inspire."

"Like when you hold my hand and hug me?" Mac queried brightly. "Or when you and daddy dance in the kitchen and he kisses you. Your cheeks get really pink. Does love make your face hot?"

"If it's real, then yes, it most definitely can. It can make your heart accelerate, or even give you gooseflesh." She trailed a finger up his arm and again Mac giggled again. "Mostly it makes you feel warm. And safe. Sheltered and protected."

"Like now." Mac curled closer, beaming up at her. Jack felt his chest tighten as he noticed his mother's eyes brighten. He swallowed thickly, startling when someone walked past him, his concentration only focused on the conversation in the room. He went so far as to bend to look inside the bags he was holding as if he were checking to make sure he hadn't forgotten something as a means of explaining his hovering in the hallway.

"Yes, son. Just like now."

"Then I'll draw us together like this."

"Except maybe put us at home." Jack looked up to see his mom rest her chin on Mac's head, pull him closer, her eyes drift shut. "In the back yard, with our someday dog. I like the name Archimedes. Let it be summer time." Her voice was quiet, but held an edge of desperation that kept it from being entirely dreamy. The palpable yearning made Jack's heart hurt, made him want to punch someone or yell and scream at the unfairness of it all. His mother would never go home again. Never see another summer. Of that, he was suddenly quite certain. And it gutted him. "We're reading a book in my favorite chair, while Jack and your father argue over who should grill the burgers."

Jack was afraid he was drawing concerned looks from the nurse's station. Kim, his mother's nurse, kept glancing his way as he hesitated outside the door, looking, no doubt, on the verge of breaking down. He brushed his arm over his eyes to erase any traitorous traces of tears. So when he had heard his cue, he had taken it, bursting into the room at that very moment asking if someone had said 'burgers'. It had drawn laughter from both his brother and mom and they'd had their dinner with small talk and joking, like so many other times when James had been away on business.

Later that evening, he and Mac had drawn the picture while their mother napped. They'd created a colorful scene, their entire family, including their grandparents, JP, Beth and Harry along with their someday dog. All of them together, happy, at home. Jack was no artist, but it did indeed seem to bring love to life on the page. Their mother had oohed and awed over it when she awoke, proudly showing it off to Kim who praised Mac's attention to detail. Mac had been over the moon, but Jack could see the agony in his mom's eyes, the same cornflower blue that Mac had inherited, as she traced the loose rendition of her garden, the crude circle faces of those she loved.

Maybe thoughts of Mac now also being so far from home- held somewhere possibly more terrible and frightening than that of an ICU ward of a hospital-with nothing but a similar ache and longing for home in his heart was what brought the images to mind. Torturous thoughts of his little brother wanting nothing more than to be reunited with those he loved-those that were supposed to protect him-could have easily unearthed the old memory. Their parallels were undeniable. Jack wasn't superstitious but couldn't help to worry it was some sort of portent or omen, that like their mom, Mac wouldn't ever return home.

"Jack!"

Matty's sharp voice had him blinking, turning from the window, glancing to his handler who had turned in the seat next to his so that she was facing him. From the atypical look of concern on her face it was possible she'd spoken to Jack several times, trying to get his attention.

He didn't speak, only blinked, waiting for the agony of his musings to dissipate but also not trusting his voice yet.

"Are you okay? I called your name three times." She frowned.

It was a ridiculous question and they both knew it. Jack was tempted to turn to the window once more but something about the rare earnestness in her tone stopped him.

"You're wondering how I'm dealing with the fact that everyone around me has been lying to me for months, hell, in my step father's case, possibly years?"

Her expression was not unkind. "I was referring more to the fact we found Mac's shoe and jacket, but I suppose the revelations are forever intertwined."

"Having my little brother's wet shoe and bloody clothes handed to me is far worse, but yeah, they both rank as things I'd never expected when this fucking day started." Jack ran a hand over his face, feeling the two-day growth of beard. He'd barely slept since Mac had been taken and had only showered because his Nana had pleaded with him. Her and JP had flown into LA after Mac hadn't been found on that first night. Shaving, unlike eating and bathing, was not part of her hard negotiations so he'd not bothered with the razor. Jack narrowed his gaze at Matty, once more overcome with the need to rip someone's throat out. "How long have you known James?"

"Almost ten years now."

"Shit." Jack shook his head, his hand unconsciously curling into a first. That was close to the time Mac had been born. "So he is an agent?"

"Not for the CIA. Not anymore. He's the director of a different organization." Matty held his dark gaze.

"But he was? In the CIA?" Jack couldn't quite wrap his mind around the idea of his intelligent, well-mannered step father as a covert agent. He was still getting used to the idea of Sarah being recruited by the CIA.

"He was when he brought me into The Company straight out of college."

"That means he was probably in The Company when he married my mom. Wasn't he?" Jack's brows draw together, eyes hardening. He felt a sudden post mortem protectiveness on his mother's behalf.

"James MacGyver's story is not mine to tell, Jack." Matty's determined scowl was not a favorable forecast for her being forthcoming. "If you want to know the specifics, you'll have to ask him yourself."

"Considering his track record with the truth, you really think he's going to shoot straight with me. He's a liar." Jack's voice held a sharp edge, his jaw working.

Matty folded her arms over her chest, leaning back in her seat. She glanced to the plastic partition separating them from the driver and then refocused on Jack, seemingly satisfied that they wouldn't be overheard. "If you really want my opinion of the man, I think Jim probably fell into the same trap a lot of agents fall into."

"And which one is that?" Jack groused, raising a brow.

"The one where they convince themselves they can have their cake and eat it, too. That 'normal' is not out of the range of possibility if they spin everything just right, and keep all the plates balanced perfectly. The career is possible, as well as the white picket fence, a spouse, two point five kids and all that apple pie with a cherry on top." She tilted her head, her look turning pointed. "I've seen it happen to a lot of men."

"Something you would never do?" He ventured.

Her eyes widened, but she quickly hid the reaction with a smirk. "I'm smarter than most men. Take you for instance. Weren't you willing to try the same thing?"

"I didn't join the CIA as a career move, Matilda. It's not some kind of dream job for me." Yes, Jack had kept Harry and his grandparents in the dark as to his real work for The Company, but he saw it as no different than keeping top secret intel of a mission in confidence. He wasn't allowed to say what he did for the CIA. "You know that better than anyone. I agreed to this offer to get me out of the damn desert because my kid brother's dad had abandoned him and he needed me."

"Selective information was a part of your life even before you were a spy, Jack. I've seen your redacted files," Matilda reminded him, her eyes meeting Jack's once more. "You can't tell me that your grandparents knew about your certain skillset in Delta. I'm not saying how James went about this was upfront or fair, but don't be a hypocrite."

"You're comparing top secret clearance I had in Delta, with living a double life, Matty." Delta operators often went by codenames or their first names only as a way of protecting themselves and those they loved from retribution for some of the missions they pulled. He would not apologize for the means he'd taken to keep his family from harm's way. He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze still icy. "My grandparents might not have understood what my exact wheelhouse was as a soldier, but they at least knew I was in the Army. They were aware of where I was, generally anyway if not specific locales and why I had gone away. No one had a clue James MacGyver was a freaking spy. My mom thought he was in in sales for some sort of science-based corporation. She thought their love of science was something they had in common. We believed he was hocking beakers and Bunsen burners, setting up state of the art labs at universities across the country, not passing secret intel and globe-trotting for the government."

Jack hated that her logic poked holes in his defense. He knew he was guilty to some degree of doing the same thing James had done, but he was also aware that he'd been put in that position by his step father's intentional duplicity. The man had been pulling strings from behind the curtain. Taking on the role of a grand puppet master.

"Perhaps its apples and oranges," Matty sighed, relaxing a bit more against the seat. "But even you can't deny the situations are in the same fruit basket. You're fooling yourself if you think that what you've done in the name of your country and what James MacGyver has done to protect his family have no overlap."

"I'm not a civilian! I have top secret clearance." Jack growled, his anger bubbling to the surface as the depths of his step father's betrayal set in. "He could have told me what he was doing, who he was. If not when I was in the Army, then before he pulled me into this situation, placing me like a freaking chess piece on some game board he'd set. He's been hiding in the shadows this whole time, when he didn't have to, all the while Mac needed him." While Jack had needed him.

She didn't have a quick comeback or defense, and Jack was sure he saw a hint of regret in her dark eyes. It was quickly replaced by her unreadable poker face and he shook his head. His so called support group were all talented liars.

"I understand discretion and need to know, Matilda. But James abandoned his little boy, letting Mac think he'd done something to make him leave. You have no idea what my brother has been through because of James. "Jack clenched his fists, barely able to keep his temper in check. "And now he's been taken by some sociopath hit man bent on revenge. He's a little kid. James's first job was to be a father. He promised my mother on her death bed."

"Maybe in James's mind that's what he was doing."

"I don't believe that." As much as Jack would like to buy into that story, if only for Mac's sake-maybe a bit for his own- he couldn't. It didn't ring true. James had chosen to wreck their family and despite whatever reasons behind his deception, there would never be a world in which Jack could accept the sweeping collateral damage it had caused as acceptable, let alone honorable or self-sacrificing.

"His excuses mean nothing to me at this point. The only thing I want from him is answers to where my brother is and how he plans to get him back. If he can't give me that and something happens to Angus, then you're going to get an up close experience of my particular skillset you read about in all those redacted mission files." Jack's voice was hard, his eyes cold. He meant every damn word.

Matty wisely chose not to comment, but the grim look on her face told Jack all he needed to know. She was an expert at reading people, knowing when they were lying or bluffing. The rare worry that reflected in her dark gaze alerted that she understood he wasn't blowing smoke. Any other time the revelation might have surprised them both, or at least given Jack a moment's pause. After all, he loved James. Or at least he had. Now every good feeling, all the happy memories he had of the man were not only tainted by the trying times after Jack's mother's death, but by the ultimate act of betrayal that had left Mac once again wounded in its wake. No. Any rationalization James contrived would not erase what had been done.

RcJ

It turned out that Jack hadn't needed to worry about his step father's offering of platitudes or attempts at pleading his case. In fact, James seemed in no way apologetic as Jack and Matty stood facing him in the large room they'd been brought to after entering the sleek office building on the outskirts of Los Angeles, the one that proclaimed itself some sort of foundation called DXS. Matilda had explained it was actually an off the books network, the kind the CIA, FBI and others turned to when their hands were tied, that passed itself off as a think tank, competing with some of the top researchers in the world and specializing in robotics and artificial intelligence. Jack had heard rumors of such clandestine operations, those who worked parallel to those well known in the information game, but hadn't given them much consideration. The space they were in now however garnered his attention. It had frosted windows, numerous computers, a wall-sized screen, along with large leather furniture and a conference table.

"It's good you're here." James spoke as they moved to the center of the room and their escort left them alone, as if they'd merely been summoned for a debriefing.

"I wish I could say the same for you." Jack's stomach churned as he eyed the man before him. He'd ran countless scenarios about their possible reunion. In most of them, Jack punched his step father before he had a chance to speak one word. Now, he was surprisingly torn between doing just that and actually hugging the bastard. He'd not expected to be relieved to see James in person, to feel anything such as the unexpected tug on his emotions. And he hated it. He preferred indignant anger to any kind of boyish notions of hope and relief.

"I know you're angry with me," James said firmly, his expression vacant of emotion, "but I think we can both agree, at least for the time being, that Angus has to be our priority. The rest can wait."

"Now Angus is your priority?" Whatever warmth Jack had felt was quickly cooling, he let his fingers curl into fists once more. "Excuse me if I'm wrong, but my brother, our family, hasn't been your main concern in a long, damn time. Hell, maybe it never was. I bet my mother, the grieving widow with a teenage son, made one hell of a good cover for a spy."

Jack knew everyone on his team seemingly had a normal life waiting for them at the end of each mission. Sarah was a law intern. Frank, her lawyer boyfriend. Hell, even Clay Craddock was a broker with a rich fiancé he often bragged was willing to buy his story of frequent business trips for the good of his lucrative company and an impressive libido. Jack had never really thought about the lies it took to keep all of it straight. Not even the ones he let fly when Harry inquired about one of his 'flights' out of the country, but now it seemed so insidious and extremely personal. He clenched his fists, keeping his arms tight against his side.

"I'm guessing it was a marriage of convenience and adding a baby to the mix was just one more stich in a well-sewn disguise. Isn't that right?"

"Jack." Matty warned but Jack ignored her, eyes trained on James.

James's face colored and Jack took some satisfaction in the spark of raw emotion he recognized in the man's dark eyes. Whatever James was feeling- whether it be some form of regret, unlikely hurt or more than likely a rebuff that his authority was being challenged- his voice stayed inflectionless. "Do you really want me to take the time to answer that question or would you rather discuss the man who has your brother?"

"Let's be clear on this, the only thing-and I mean only thing I care about is my brother." If Jack were honest he would have to admit that the revelation that James was not missing, but was in fact somehow intertwined with his current job had been a temporary distraction. The white hot fury it invoked was far preferable to the foreign terror he'd been plagued with since Mac went missing. He'd never felt anything like the 'not knowing' where his brother was or what was happening to him. Not when he'd lost his dad as a kid, not when he'd first learned of his mother's diagnosis and even the one time he'd been captured by the Taliban and had no idea what they were going to do to him. Focusing on his stepfather's act had been more palatable than drowning in his thoughts of the torturous acts he couldn't help to imagine happening to his baby brother, the ones he imagined as bad as what he'd endured in his time in captivity.

"Then we're on the same page and you'll be happy to know I received proof of life not more than four hours ago." James wasted no time in turning to the screen behind him. He moved to a huge computer terminal only a few steps away and it wasn't long before an image appeared. Jack might have been impressed with the state of the art technology if not for being instantly mesmerized by the photo of his little brother. Mac was sitting in a chair, his face looking straight at the camera, drawn and defiant. Jack recognized the shirt he'd been wearing the day of the field trip, the one he loved that Harry had found him with all the major constellations outlined on the front. His face was dirty, there was a faint bruise on his cheek that had Jack's heart racing, an anger far hotter than the one he'd found for James ignited as he traced a small amount of blood from the kid's hair line. A red stain on the golden strands, which in no way glowed or shone in the dark room he was being kept in.

"You see the paper." James pointed to the USA Today Mac was holding, and when he did, Jack was certain his stepfather's hand had trembled. "The date is correct and the headlines match the ones that were in this morning's edition."

"Where did this come from?" Matty asked, moving closer to the screen. "Were there any demands?"

"It came to the email of one of my aliases. Bernard Huck." James gave a heavy exhale and at this moment he looked weary. Much older than his actual years. "Nothing was sent with it."

Jack grimaced at the unfortunate moniker. "Does that have any significance as far as this Nicholas Helmand guy is concerned?"

"No." James shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "Not that I can think of. I have analysts combing over my files, but so far nothing stands out about that mission. I had no contact with Helmand until much later in my career when he was sent to carry out a contract on Jonah."

"Who the hell is Jonah?" Jack asked. His gaze flickering between James and the image of his brother.

"My partner in the field. He's watched my back for years and now that I'm Director of DXS, he heads up our tactical division," James explained with visibly restrained patience as if the minute detail wasn't important to what he was explaining. It probably wasn't, but Jack was tired of letting his step father decide what was pertinent to share. "You actually met him once, but likely don't remember."

"Why is that?" Jack was stubborn, folding his arms over his chest, mirroring James's posture. "Was he in disguise? Did you try and pass him off as one of your salesmen buddies?"

"No, Jack." James sighed. "It was at your mother's funeral."

"It could be Helmand's way of throwing us off a real scent," Matty swooped in to break the moment and Jack was grateful, as a hundred different memories rushed over him at the mention of the awful day they put his mother in the ground, none of them offering any clarity on Walsh, but succeeding to stir his gloom and doom from earlier. "Were any of the DXS techs able to procure information about the computer that sent this?" She continued, glancing from James to the computer screen and back.

"No and we're not surprised." James shook his head, a dark look briefly flickering in his eyes before his stoic mask settled into place. "We know that HIT has not only organized a league of top contract killers but has also amassed a 'Geek' squad of sorts. Hackers, from self-taught adrenaline junkies who get off on cracking the hardest systems to some of the brightest prodigies straight out of MIT. Their skills seemingly match or in this case possibly exceed that of our own."

"What about your own prodigy, the teenager you bragged about snatching out from under the FBI?" Matty asked, raising a brow.

"Teenager?" Jack frowned. "DXS hires kids?"

"Not exactly." James glanced at Jack. "Nikki is brilliant on a keyboard. A seventeen-year-old freshman at MIT that I've enrolled in a special internship." James made finger quotes in the air as he said internship. "Unfortunately she's had no luck so far, but she's not one to give up."

"What about security footage from around the area Mac was taken?" Jack tried, feeling tentacles of desperation attempt to strangle the life out of the tiny sliver of hope he'd allowed himself when he'd been summoned by James. Despite his shock and anger he'd not completely dismissed his handler's advice that James was the one man who could turn their situation around. "Surely your sources have found out more than LA county police and the local FBI."

"Jonah has been overseeing a tactical unit, investigating every possible lead we've had. Trust me when I say he is the best operative in the field. So far, nothing has panned out or given a clue as to Helmand's whereabouts." James rubbed a hand over his forehead. "It's like he fucking vanished."

Jack's gaze went back to the picture of his kid brother, taking every inch of the image. The area showed no windows, no change in light in any area that suggested there were adjacent openings. It appeared for all pretenses to be a metal building, possibly a storage unit. Mac was sitting on a wooden stool, holding the paper. Jack searched his face, trying to distance himself from the emotional response it spurned. The fear he imagined he could register in the boy's blue eyes. Travelling from Mac's bruised face he studied the paper, and that's when he noticed it. Mac held each corner of the paper with thumb and forefinger but on the right side of the paper where there was a small inset advertising a story from the business section, the ten-year-old had extended a pinky finger, pointing to the small bold-faced headline.

"Can you zoom in on that corner." Jack pointed at the photograph, and James frowned but punched a few keys on the keyboard changing the perspective of the image.

"Look at Mac's finger. He's pointing to that headline." Jack's heart picked up rhythm, his pulse rabbiting as he was certain his brother had not merely extended the lone digit by happenstance. "It's talking about ConAngra Foods and their lobbying against the Oregon Ballot Measures 27."

"Okay," Matty said gently as if Jack had lost his mind. "You think that Mac is maybe trying to tell us that he's in Oregon?"

"No." Jack shook his head, feeling jittery all of the sudden as if all the coffee he'd drunk on an empty stomach that morning was just now kicking in. "I think he might be telling us he's in Colorado."

"Wait." James's brow furrowed in confusion, raising a questioning brow at Jack. "How could you possibly extrapolate that suggestion from …"

"Because," Jack interrupted. "If you'd been around the last few months you'd know that Mac did a huge science project on the shelf life of freaking Twinkies and Slim Jim's. I've had to sneak Slim Jim's to keep from hearing one of his lectures about how bad they are for me. ConAgra is one of the main players in trying to block a bill that would have genetically modified ingredients listed on packaging. Mac demanded me and Harry boycott all their products and refused to go to the Dodgers game a few weeks back because they were playing the Rockies."

"Maybe I'm behind on the food industry but…" Matty started with a frown and more than a hint of skepticism in her tone, but was interrupted by James.

"It's not about food, Matilda." His gaze went to Jack, a small proud smile tugging at his mouth. "It's about baseball and my son being a genius with facts and stats. He never forgets anything."

"Huh?" Matty questioned.

Jack turned to his handler to explain his theory. "The Denver Rockies are owned by Charlie Monfort, who used to be CEO of ConAgra Foods until he stepped down to take a more active role in his team. He still holds stock in the company and for that alone Mac thinks he should own some responsibility for ConAgra's attempts to dupe Joe Public for a profit."

"And for that you think this traumatized ten-year-old child is alerting you of his possible location."

Jack knew it sounded like a crazy long shot, and it was possible that it was, but Matilda Weber didn't know Angus MacGyver, not the way he and James knew the kid. "Mac and I had a few go rounds over us not going to the game. I really wanted to see it, because it was one of the few weekend games I've actually been in town for and it's always kind of been our thing." Jack glanced to James, who ducked his head, studying the picture on the screen again.

Baseball was the one thing Jack, Mac, Harry and James often did together. They'd go into LA, to Harry's place. Male bonding, his mother liked to call it. From the time Mac could hold a hot dog, they'd gone together. It was the one tradition they somewhat maintained after her death. Jack blinked away a hot rush of emotion as he remembered his little brother's earnest protests of a few weeks back. "He created a whole presentation just for me to defend his reasoning to boycott the Rockies, even outlining projected profit margins for ConAgra and how it could tie to the team's management."

"He sounds like something else." A small smile graced Matty's lips and Jack wasn't sure if he'd convinced her that it was possible that Mac was indeed clever enough to try and give them a clue or if she was merely assured of Jack's current desperation and possible tendency for delusions due to his lack of proper rest.

"You have no idea," Jack breathed. His brother was one in a million and not just because his mind worked far more like a computer than the typical mind of a ten-year-old.

"I can have our analysts look for any ties to Colorado or Illinois that Helmand might have," James interjected. When both Matty and Jack looked at him in surprise he shrugged. "I know for a fact that ConAgra's headquarters is in Chicago. My boy's not the only one who has a photographic memory."

"I want to be on the team going to Denver." Jack was already three steps ahead. It might be impulsive and a little crazy but he couldn't shake the feeling that he and his little brother were on the same wavelength and that the message was meant for him. Denver was the one connection to ConAgra that Jack would recognize. Colorado was a big state, but if they were in the vicinity, he was that much closer to his brother. Much to his relief James didn't protest.

"You can go with me and Jonah." James briefly lifted his gaze from the keyboard. "I have contacts in Denver. We can set up a temporary base of operations there."

"Craddock and I will cover the Illinois angle." Matty added, seemingly onboard with their longshot. He surmised, that like them, she hated inaction and that a far-fetched lead was better than no lead at all. Jack for one could not spend one more night waiting and praying for a miracle. He'd leave the prayers to his grandmother and spend his time calculating the ways to kill Nicholas Helmand in the most slow and painful ways possible.

To be continued…