Nature versus Nurture
By: Ridley
A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting. I hope the fact that this is the longest chapter so far might make up for the lapse between chapters. Please note that having not travelled to beautiful Peru, there may be inaccuracies in my descriptions. I did however take two virtual boat rides of the Amazon all from the comfort of my office at my real job before attempting to write this. I am dedicated like that (grin). It reminded me a little of the boat rides I've taken in the swamps of Louisiana, so I extrapolated from there. Thank you for all the kind reviews and to Mary, who is the best beta ever.
RcJ
"Genetics is a lottery. Every time chromosomes recombine, you spin the wheel and cross your fingers. It helps to start with a good partner, with traits you want to replicate, but that's no guarantee."
-Julie Clark, The Ones We Choose
Mac studied the lush green canopy on either side of the river they were traversing. The rainforest, mesmerizing for its unique beauty alone, had long ago captured his scientist heart with its vast biodiversity and resiliency, a potential treasure trove of new discoveries waiting to be uncovered. Under any other circumstances he would have been excited for the chance to explore, to take in the total experience, but as it was, his thoughts were consumed by what his partner was enduring at the hands of Jonah Walsh. His father had painted a picture of his former partner that along with Mac's brief encounter with the man had Mac consumed with vivid images of just what they might find when they recovered Jack.
The sounds of monkeys chattering interrupted Mac's morose pondering and he tried to center himself, knowing that macabre musings weren't going to do his partner one bit of good. It wouldn't get them to their destination any faster and Jack needed Mac clear-headed and on task so he concentrated on the low rumble of the small outboard engine, the lapping of the murky waves that hit their boat, letting the pungent smells of the forest ground him in the present and soothe his pounding heart. Mac caught movement out of the corner of his eye, as an alligator slid from the muddy bank into the weak coffee colored water. The sky was the color of cement, the air a similar consistency, but the steel gray above provided the perfect backdrop for flashes of reds and blues as bright plumed birds were flushed by their sudden presence. Mac inhaled though it was a bit like breathing in a steam room. He ran a hand down his sweat slicked face, silently calculating how close they were to the drop off point.
"So, I think I definitely liked the desert better."
At the sudden declaration Mac shifted his gaze to Carlos who was sitting across from him, on the second bench seat of their river boat. His old friend was quieter than his typical overwatch, seemingly taking Mac's own silence as a cue and curbing the chatter. Mac found that he missed Jack's incessant need to talk which was always a much better anchor than any mindful techniques, but he grinned when Carlos gripped his rifle tighter, his wary dark gaze watching the thick undergrowth on either side of them in a very Dalton-like manner.
"Jack always says the same thing anytime we're in a jungle and he hated the desert." Mac swatted at a mosquito that was close to his ear.
"Give me abandoned buildings and Taliban any day of the week. Anything could be in there." Carlos nodded his head as they glided into an even narrower passage of water, trees overhanging to the degree they almost had to duck. "Jaguars. Natives with blow guns. Anacondas."
"Now you really do sound like Jack," Mac snorted. "I think you'll see more monkeys and birds than killer snakes and big cats and I'm pretty sure the indigenous people aren't aggressive. They actually welcome tourists and look at it this way, at least here there's probably no need to have an EOD at your side." Mac's eyes scanned the bright green underbrush when the bird chatter grew in volume.
Carlos followed Mac's gaze, his frown deepening. "No IED's or not, we're not exactly in Disney World, hermano. I didn't see any other tourists on that horrible bus ride we endured from the city. The guides should have paid us to ride on that death trap, and no rollercoaster could compare to that path they called a road. I'm not even going to mention the sheer drop offs we were way too close to."
Carlos's observations brought Mac's thoughts back round to Jack's similar rants. He swallowed a lump of emotion that had lodged in the back of his throat, taking a moment to glance at the dwindling rays of setting sun that were barely visible through the dense cloud cover. He hadn't talked to Jack in weeks, ignoring the texts he'd received, and not merely because he couldn't decipher the code. He clenched his fists against the onslaught of unwanted turmoil, focusing once more on his breathing, fighting to uncoil the hard knot in his stomach.
"If this is your idea of a vacation area then I am beginning to get a new understanding of why Jack worries about you so much," Carlos said.
Mac caught the change in his friend's tone, a clear indicator Carlos perhaps realized where Mac's thoughts had strayed. Mac tried for another grin, but barely managed and he knew Carlos could see it too. "The first time we were in Lima, I talked him into a layover, so we could visit Machu Picchu and the Temple of the Sun. We hadn't been with DXS long and I had never been to Peru. Jack made it happen."
His partner hadn't even put up his usual resistance or tried typical grumbling about Mac's enthusiasm for nerdy expeditions. Instead, he'd humored Mac, buying into the chance to play modern day swashbuckler. He even feigned an injury so Thornton would agree to the downtime. "Jack held up pretty good until he found a tarantula in his Indiana Jones fedora, and then he swore we'd awoken some ancient spirit by trampling through sacred territory." A small grin twitched around Mac's mouth.
"Tarantula?" Carlos blanched.
"Don't worry. They're bites aren't poisonous." Mac pointed to one of the trees they were passing, large brown spots he knew to be the arachnid in question visible. "It feels a little like a bee sting."
"How about I take your word for that." Carlos visibly shuddered, cradling his gun closer. "Lolita will make sure I don't find out for myself. I hate spiders. They filmed Arachnophobia for a reason."
"Then I'd save your bullets for the ones that eat birds, or better yet the Wandering Spider," Mac told him, unable to resist. "Although they're a smaller target, they're actually deadly. From the genus Phonuetria, which means 'murderess' in Greek and…"
"Can we maybe talk about something more pleasant?" Carlos frowned at him, his gaze darting back to the low hanging tree branches they were passing.
"Like what?" Mac bent over, pulling a bandana from the pack at his feet. He flashed Carlos an innocent glance as he folded the material before wrapping it around his head to keep the sweat from his eyes. Mac's clothes were beginning to look like he'd taken a plunge into the piranha infested water. The swarms of mosquitoes around them growing in intensity, filling the air with their buzzing.
"Oh, I don't know, how about the La Ola Cartel?" Carlos lowered his voice although Mac doubted that neither their two guides nor his father could overhear them considering the length of the long boat they occupied. There was a canopy over the back half where James and the men he'd hired sat, the tarp shielding from the elements but also buffering sound.
"I'm pretty sure deadly spiders and killer snakes are safer topics." Mac tied off the bandana, reaching for his water bottle. He took a long drink, as Carlos watched him. The La Ola Cartel was nefarious and into every crime one could imagine.
"Then how about Luis Gomez? Tell me again how a think tank like The Phoenix Foundation got involved with a drug lord?" Carlos raised his brow. "I've heard stories of him. He's not one to be toyed with, and to my knowledge no one's been able to get close enough to bring him down since his father passed the reigns of the business to his hands nearly two decades ago."
Mac wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, glancing at James. His father held a map which he and one of the guides were bent over in animated discussion. He'd talked with Mac only about their plan, but Matty had allowed Carlos access to redacted files on their last mission to Mexico, along with including him in the short briefing she held in their hotel room in Cusco. The DEA had agreed to share information with them, including sending one of their own to collaborate and Agent Marcum had gone into rich detail about La Ola and Gomez . Mac wasn't sure if the intel sharing was an act of cross agency good will or that the higher ups at the DEA were merely afraid Phoenix might muck up their year's long infiltration of the cartel.
Mac pinched the bridge of his nose, the first signs of a dehydration headache bringing him back to the moment. After taking another long drink of water, he offered the bottle to Carlos. "I thought it was clear to you by now that we're not just a think tank."
"I was in the military long enough to recognize a spook operation, Mac." Carlos took the bottle, taking a swig before handing it back to Mac. His face showed slight disappointment. "But I thought you might have shed some more light on the whole thing considering I'm apparently a member of your team now."
"Thanks for going along with that, by the way." Mac recapped the water, his jaw clinching when he recalled Camilla's less than enthusiastic acceptance of Carlos's temporary change in careers. He'd gone there to help his friend, not bring more turbulence to his life. "I know it's not the best time for you to be away from your family or the bank."
"The bank owes me considering I helped thwart a robbery and my friends aided in the recovery of their funds, as for my family, they understand what repaying a debt means as well. Honestly, I'd forgotten how much I miss the excitement." Carlos tilted his head, his gaze boring into Mac's. "But you're redirecting, my friend. I knew that you worked for the government, but I didn't see you as a spy."
"I've actually had some doubts about my career path lately as well." Mac traced a design on the plastic bottle, knowing he wasn't answering the other man. Carlos was taking a hell of a risk to help them, but old habits were hard to break and Mac wasn't used to talking freely about what he did or even worse how he might feel about it. Once again his thoughts drifted back to Jack, uncertainty and guilt knotting his gut once more. "Maybe a constantly changing landscape and novel new crisis every day isn't all it's cracked up to be."
"I take it that has something to do with your dad being your boss? Bozer let it slip that it was a relatively new situation." Carlos looked to the front of the boat. Mac followed his line of sight and found his father now talking on the sat phone. They had prepared themselves for the possibility Walsh would have ways of shielding signals from his location and had told Matty they would check in before they neared the outskirts of the reserve. Mac took it as a sign they were getting close, one step nearer to rescuing Jack.
"Turns out him being my boss isn't exactly new, although it's new to me," He chanced a glance at Carlos from beneath hooded lashes, before busying himself putting his water bottle away. "I wasn't privy to the fact that James MacGyver was responsible for hiring me, and has held the position of Oversight for years."
"How's it possible not to know who you work for? I mean, I know spies are all about their secret identities, but that seems a bit extreme."Carlos's brow furrowed, his questioning eyes meeting Mac's. "Was it like a 'Charlie' situation from Charlie's Angels? Or Robin Masters from Magnum P.I.?"
Mac laughed. "One, you've been watching way too much eighties television, and two, you should totally understand being on a mission where the orders came down from above? From some brass in Washington who you wouldn't know from Adam?" Mac fought to keep the words void of emotions, his fingers curling into a fist once more as he realized how foolish he might look for being completely in the dark for so long.
"Of course," Carlos conceded. "You know that I have, but this is your father. I get families have different dynamics, but you never mentioned him in basic, only your grandfather and Bozer." He ran a hand through his sweaty hair. "I assumed your parents were dead and it was just too painful to talk about."
"My mom died when I was five." Mac admitted, fingers twitching. It was almost ridiculous but he was aching for one of his paperclips, like some chain smoker desperate for a cigarette. He wasn't sure why he'd never said as much years ago. Carlos was by far his closest confidant in boot camp, his only friend in that place, at least until Carlos had been chosen for Ranger school and Mac met Pena, but he was self-aware enough to understand he didn't share things, especially back then, not even with his closest friends. Bozer was the one exception, and then Jack, in whom he'd found an entirely different level of trust. Yet, ironically, that bond with his partner hadn't kept Mac from running all the way to Puerto Rico when he'd been sucker punched by his father's duplicity. It made him question just how much he truly took after James MacGyver, what other diabolical traits might be waiting to rear their ugly heads.
Mac lifted his gaze to Carlos, a sigh escaping his lips. "Honestly, I wasn't sure if my father was alive or dead. He left when I was ten, and I had no contact with him until three weeks ago when I found out he'd been giving me orders for the past six years. It seems he even had some control over what I did in the Army, hell, maybe even my time at MIT. For all I know, he chose my courses in high school."
"That's screwed up." Carlos sent a furtive glance to the front of the boat, then met Mac's gaze. "Why would he do that and not want you to know?"
"That's the million dollar question." Mac feigned a nonchalance he in no way felt. Even after some time and distance that betrayal still felt like an open wound. His whole world had been shaken in a manner that left him doubting every decision he'd ever made, questioning whether he had blazed his own trail or merely followed the bread crumbs laid out for him by James. Mac had always prided himself on being a free thinker, but now couldn't shake the feeling he'd been manipulated like some puppet, groomed as sure as Gomez's mobster father had probably groomed him to take over the family empire. Mac forced a shrug. "As Jack says James MacGvyer will not be taking Father of the Year anytime soon or getting any cards on Boss's Day."
"Is that all Jack had to say in the matter?" Carlos rested his elbows on his knees, one brow raised.
Mac shook his head at the question, his emotions too near the surface to attempt a response. He smirked, but it felt wrong on his face, humorless. "You know Jack."
Of course Carlos didn't know Jack, not really, but he'd gotten a crash course on Mac's partner's primary role of protector over the last couple of weeks. Carlos glanced towards James again. "From what I do know of Dalton, I'm surprised Oversight is still breathing, or at the least, not eating food through a straw for a good while."
"Jack can show restraint when he needs to." Mac understood the one and only reason his best friend hadn't touched James MacGyver was because he would do anything to keep Mac from being hurt, even if it meant denying his own nature. Jack was afraid Mac would only suffer more if he retaliated against Oversight's deception, or perhaps miss out on the chance to have the dad/son relationship he'd been denied the past fifteen years. Of course, now it was Jack who was suffering and Mac couldn't help but to feel he'd abandoned his best friend, the one person who'd always been in his corner.
"I can't imagine anything that would cause me to stay away from Adriana." Carlos's quiet words brought Mac back to the present. He looked at his friend.
"Not even if you lost Camilla?" He asked before he could stop himself. A part of him desperately wanted Carlos to reconsider, for the thought of losing his wife to somehow change the look of dismay on his face. Mac cleared his throat. "I mean if she died and you were left alone to raise Adriana…"
"Then Adriana would need me even more." Carlos answered quickly, confusion turning to a look of anger as he seemed to put the pieces in place. Mac felt a wave of shame, as ridiculous as he knew that was. It wasn't his fault James had left, but still he wondered if there was something intrinsic that had solidified his father's decision. "She's only a child," Carlos continued. "I would be all she had left, and she would be all I would have left of my wife, making her even more precious."
"I don't think James saw the situation the same way." Mac looked away, focusing on the forest once more. Under different circumstances, if Jack had been the one engaged in the conversation, Mac might have added that his father hadn't seen him at all, at least not as something to value and protect. Instead, James MacGyver had admitted to viewing his young son as a reminder of what he'd lost. Even now, it seemed James saw him as an asset to Phoenix, some kind of investment he fully intended to receive a payout on.
Over the weeks since that fateful conversation in the lab Mac had tried to view his father's confession as to why he'd abandoned his son objectively, and dissect it from every angle. He'd even tried to recall his own feelings when he thought Nikki had been killed, analyzing how that helplessness, anger and grief which threatened to consume him had mutated the man he'd always believed himself to be. Mac hadn't been married to her, and still had barely been able to keep it together, wasn't sure he would have if not for Jack, who'd wisely taken him to the ranch to recover. In the end, Mac had managed to put a lid on the worst of the pain he couldn't deal with, replacing his anger with a drive to bring Nikki's killer to justice. He wasn't sure how that would have worked out if he hadn't discovered Nikki's reuse. The only thing he'd concluded was that grief did strange things to a man.
"Then perhaps your father is a coward." The declaration caught him like a swift punch, snapping his attention back to his friend. It wasn't said with the kind of heat Jack would have used, more observation than curse, but the sentiment was similar.
"Maybe." Mac had considered that as well, figuring a coward was somehow better than a selfish bastard. He rubbed absently over his sweat soaked bandanna. After all, he'd once considered cutting all ties to Jack when they'd first come back from Afghanistan, believing the memories they shared together too painful to face in and out every day.
Although now the very idea of such a severing brought a sharp lance of pain and a different flush of shame, at the time it had seemed a sensible, logical, possibly a remedy for all that ailed him. After all, Jack Dalton was an ever present reminder of all that Mac had been through. Maybe, Mac considered, that was what it had been like for his father. Mac became a walking, talking stumbling block which prevented him from completely compartmentalizing and letting go of his grief. James had merely reacted in self-preservation. Like a wild animal caught in a trap that gnawed its leg off to escape the source of its pain. Mac was merely his father's bloody sacrifice.
"I can hear you think, you know?" Carlos's brows met over his nose as he tilted his head to study Mac. "Being a parent is terrifying, but so are a lot of other worthwhile things. Being responsible for another life is scarier than anything I encountered in the desert or anything hidden in this jungle." Carlos gave a sweeping gesture to the trees. "Doing it alone, without another person to back you up would be even more frightening. It isn't for the faint of heart. Sort of like sweeping a minefield for ordinance. Some men aren't equipped for those kinds of tasks. Just like I wasn't cut out to be Delta."
It sounded so simplistic when Carlos spoke his theory out loud, but the repercussions of James's shortcomings were extremely personal and as much as Mac wanted to believe it was all due to his father's shortcomings as Carlos was trying to point out, he still couldn't disregard the little voice that taunted he was somehow at fault.
"Not everyone is cut out to be a dad," Carlos added. "It could be your father was missing something necessary for the job."
Mac appreciated his friend's attempt to offer a perspective that he was sure Carlos hoped might make Mac feel better, but at the moment there was only one thing Mac wanted or needed, and the person who could provide him with such was being held by a well-trained, rogue operative bent on giving his ruthless boss the means to create super solders. He willed his typical blocks in place and nodded towards the front of the boat. "James may have giant faults when it comes to fatherhood, lapses of judgement when it came to me, but luckily when it comes to this kind of work, he's extremely competent. He's taken down men more powerful than Gomez and disbanded fiercer operations that La Ola. He's not only brilliant, but dependable when it comes to a mission."
Carlos looked as if he wanted to object to their sudden change in topic, but unlike Jack would have, he held back on saying as much and once more took Mac's lead. "Then you're comfortable with this plan he has? Because I'm not sure your partner would feel at ease with you basically walking into a snare. I have a strong feeling Jack would object to hanging back as Oversight has instructed me to do."
"Although not exactly tactically sound on the surface, James has a point in what he's doing. These men need us. They won't think twice about eliminating anyone else." Mac leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, mirroring Carlos's position. He knew Jack would have balked at the directive. In fact, after what happened when they'd separated in Mexico and Mac had gone with his father, he doubted his partner would ever trust Mac to the man's care again. But Mac couldn't-wouldn't-risk Carlos's life in such a manner. "I know it appears we're giving them what they want, but we're also laying a trap of our own. Besides bringing a team into a situation like this without knowing how many men we're possibly facing or where Jack is being held is too risky. We know from past dealings with Gomez that his compounds are always strategically impenetrable from a militaristic stance. A direct assault isn't the way to go and they took Jack for an exchange."
"Director Weber mentioned another name besides Gomez. Who is Jonah Walsh and what exactly does he want in exchange for Jack?"
Mac rubbed a hand over his face. Sweat had found its way past the bandana blocker to trail into his eyes and he blinked a few times before answering the perfectly fair question. "Walsh was my father's partner. They worked as a team for Phoenix, doing sort of what Jack and I do now, at least what we did until I took my leave."
"So this is personal? And the reason Jack was taken?" Carlos straightened when an alligator surfaced fairly close to their boat, possibly the one Mac had seen slither from the bank earlier.
"Do you always ask this many questions when on a mission, brother?" Mac quirked a brow. "No wonder you didn't make Delta. Even I knew to do what I was told and to keep my mouth shut."
"I doubt that." Carlos countered with confidence. "Jack has told me some stories about your work with him and his team in Afghanistan, and this is not a Delta operation, although it sounds like it might be right up their alley considering the cartel's tie in."
"Walsh wants something only my father can give him," Mac finally said with a sigh. The urgency he felt deep inside of him was back, closer to the surface now, adrenaline coursing through him, making him itch from inaction. "He more than likely thought by taking Jack he'd have a bargaining chip."
"Your father doesn't exactly strike me as the bargaining type." Carlos watched the water, edging a little closer to the middle of the boat.
"That's why Walsh chose Jack, because he thinks I might be different from my dad and would have convinced him otherwise." Mac kept his eyes peeled for the gator. He had learned from Jack that they liked marshmallows. His partner had confessed to feeding them in the swamps during his time in New Orleans. Jack had even trained a few of the smaller ones to climb onto the dock to fetch there nightly treat. Mac imagined from the way Carlos kept inching away from the side of the boat, that he would not be impressed with the story.
"From what little I know about your father, I'd say that is probably a very safe bet." When Mac brought his gaze from the water to narrow his eyes at Carlos, the other man shrugged. "I'm talking about the part about you two being different, not so much about you convincing him of anything as I imagine there is at least one trait you share, like stubbornness."
Mac rolled his eyes, but let the dig slide. "James has good reason for his unwillingness to deal with Walsh's demands. The drug Jonah wants could have far-sweeping consequences, none of them positive." Mac couldn't help to remember the biological agent he'd willingly handed over at Lake Como to the man holding a gun on Nikki. At the time he hadn't considered giving a weapon of mass destruction to a terrorist such a high price to pay for one life, especially when that one life was one he considered invaluable and irreplaceable.
"But Jack is family." Carlos shifted his gun, once more fruitlessly slapping at one of the many mosquitos buzzing around them.
"Exactly." Mac knew Carlos understood the position that placed him in. "I will do whatever it takes to save him, even if it means walking into what I know is a trap." There was finality in his voice.
"And your father?"
"James will do whatever he thinks is right."
"Does that mean he has a different agenda from you?" A frown was back on Carlos's face, the worried look having little to do with reptiles swimming in shared waters.
"From what little I know about my father, I'd say that is probably a safe bet." Mac used Carlos's earlier words, finding the truth of them hard to swallow, but their accuracy undeniable. He didn't trust James MacGyver, but had to use whatever his father was planning for his own advantage. Mac leaned in closer to his friend. "Our job is to get Jack out safe. No matter what my father is hoping to achieve."
"My job is to watch your back, hermano," Carlos reiterated with a determination that had Mac swallowing hard. When Mac opened his mouth to object, Carlos raised a hand to cut him off. "I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get Dalton out, believe me, but rescuing Jack would actually be counterintuitive on my part- sort of how suicide is counterproductive to my living- if I let something happen to you on my watch in the process. You get hurt, I'm a dead man."
An instant rebuff escaped Mac as he imagined what emoji's Jack might have used to convey such a message to Carlos. Before he could conjure any response, his father's voice called out for them to brace for impact. Mac had just enough time to grip the side of the metal rim behind him before the small boat banked hard as it ran aground to the right with enough force to send the top half of the vessel safely onto land, which had obviously been their guide's intention.
"I'll take point." Carlos stood, slinging his pack over his shoulder as he cleared the side. His earlier trepidation had seemingly vanished and he stood at the ready waiting for Mac's acknowledgment.
Mac nodded, shouldering his own pack as Carlos disappeared into the foliage. He bent to pick up the tie line before exiting the boat. His boots mired in mud as he moved to find a branch sturdy enough to secure the boat.
"That's not necessary. They won't be staying." James's voice stopped him. When Mac turned, one of the guides was standing near him, reaching out for the rope. "They've given us the coordinates we need." James held up a piece of paper, and his compass.
"Since when?" Mac frowned, allowing the man to take the tie from his hand. He watched as the guide squatted to shove the long boat back into the murky water before quickly jumping in with his partner. "I thought they were taking us to the reserve."
"Obviously they had plans of their own." James resituated his pack, glancing to his watch as if he had expected as much. "Jonah has never failed to show a peculiar resourcefulness when it comes to buying temporary allegiance. He can be charming and persuasive in other ways."
"You think he already knows we're here." Mac had hoped his worries had been unfounded, but the resolve in his father's gaze told him he had every right to think they were being watched in Cusco. His first priority was getting his partner out of harm's way but that didn't mean that his instincts weren't screaming at him that this whole mission was about to go FUBAR quickly.
"I think he knew the minute our flight landed," James said calmly. It was the very same tone that had Mac's blood boiling.
Mac pinched the bridge of his nose, blowing out a huff of breath. "We figured as much."
"You having second thoughts about our ploy?" Oversight asked and if Mac hadn't known better he thought he saw an excited gleam in father's dark eyes, much like when they'd stolen the horses in Mexico to circumvent Gomez's security measures. The man had always loved games of strategy just a little too much, and this was obviously a challenge.
Mac refused to take the bait. "The only thing I'm thinking about is Jack."
He propped his hands on his hips, studying the trail Carlos had left for them, the path had been obviously overgrown and he could see where his friend had taken his machete to the worst of the snarled limbs. The noise of all the things that lived inside the jungle seemed louder than before, more dangerous.
"I wouldn't let worry distract you. I'm sure Dalton's holding his own." James started to move around Mac, heading for the overgrown path. He shrugged, adding over his shoulder, "He's former Delta, and he's been in the CIA. It's not like he's not been tortured in the past."
Mac shook his head, once more floored by his father's ability to come off as a complete jackass and for it to get under his skin so swiftly. His hands curled into fists. Only a man who had no concept of what it meant to endure grueling hours of purposeful pain inflicted by another human would spout such bureaucratic bullshit in a cavalier manner. Mac had been tortured, more than once, and it was something he would never wish on anyone, let alone the people he loved. The idea that his father thought he would somehow take comfort in the fact that Jack would endure as if all the other times he'd been made to suffer had been some sort of conditioning or training exercise, had him once more vacillating between being disgusted by the man and feeling completely sorry for him and his lack of empathy.
"I mean Dalton's been in worse situations, son." James continued on, swatting away a branch as he proceeded forward unaware of his son's stunned stupor. His words came out matter-of-factly, almost indifferently. He chanced a glance over his shoulder when Mac didn't follow, still seemingly not taking any cue from the look of incredulity on Mac's face. "Don't get me wrong, I know spending time with Jonah has probably been no picnic, but your partner has been through worse. Iraq for instance. I wasn't sure he'd come out of that one but he did."
"You knew about Iraq?" Mac reached out and gripped his father's arm, stopping him from starting forward once more.
For a moment James looked uncertain as if he'd said too much, but then his face set in grim lines. "You know I've read your files from Afghanistan. Your partner has always been brash when it comes to making deals. He's one to rush in before considering the consequences."
Mac blinked, feeling a bit like his father had slapped him. Dismay warred with feeling incredibly foolish, as Mac once more grappled with the fact he'd spent a year of his life searching desperately for his father, a man who seemed had no limits to the ways he could disappoint his son. "Jack was willing to pay with his life, Dad, so I could get out of Afghanistan in one piece. You understand that, right? I was nothing to him and he was still willing to go through hell and back, die even, if it meant taking care of me."
"He would have died if I hadn't gotten word to you and his buddy Boxer that he was being held in Iraq. Hammond wasn't being kept in the loop. Dalton's own team didn't know he was in jeopardy. If my sources hadn't delivered that bit of intel then I dare say we wouldn't be having this very ill-timed, unproductive conversation." James folded his arms over his chest, looking pleased with himself albeit a bit irritated as well.
Mac opened his mouth to respond, but the memory of the message he'd received about Jack's disappearance kept him from speaking. He'd never known who'd sent Jack's St. Jude medal to Boxer, but it was what had led them to suspect that Jack's temporary assignment to another unit had been a convenient cover for some ultra-secretive op, one that had quickly gone sideways.
"Is everything okay?" Carlos reappeared at the head of the trail before Mac could let out the breath he was holding. The former Ranger's shirt was already soaked through with sweat and he was panting from exertion. He batted at more giant mosquitos as his gaze volleyed between James and Mac, his line of sight finally settling on the dark water just beyond them. His brow furrowed. "What happened to the guides? And our ride?"
"Change in plans," Mac told him, with a brief glance. He raked both hands through his hair. There would be time later to process the actual levels of his father's involvement in his past. Right now Jack was the only thing that mattered. "Nothing new."
"Okay." Carlos slid the machete into a sheaf at his side, bringing his rifle to settle against his chest. "So is this where I get my first taste of dual MacGyver improvising? That should be interesting, and just so we're clear by interesting I mean scary as hell."
"That depends on whether my son is done rehashing the past." James narrowed his gaze at Mac. "I'm sure Dalton doesn't mind waiting with Jonah while you continue counting the ways I have royally failed at being a parent. In fact, knowing your partner he'd probably encourage me to indulge you, let you get it all out of your system so you feel better. What's another hour in the grand scheme of things if it means Angus gets his way?"
If James's goal was to kick Mac's anger into overdrive, then he'd succeeded brilliantly. It seemed the years of not being around had not left Mac's father without knowledge of his soft spots. Mac barely bit back on the words he wanted to let loose, starting with a suggestion Jack would have no doubt given a double thumbs up to. Mac would have even added an 'Oversight, sir' to the end of the anatomically impossible command just to show his father who he truly took after. As it was, he held back, afraid if he ever let himself take such liberty, words, no matter how foul, would not be enough. Since they didn't have time for a fight, Mac grabbed the coordinates from his father's hand and shouldered past the older man.
Jack needed him. Now.
Nothing, not even the all too real need to knock his father on his pompous ass was going to stop Mac from being there.
RcJ
"We like to think we have some control over who our children will grow into, simply by the way we raise them. But the truth is, we don't know which traits will emerge or be discarded until our kids are living stories, unfolding before our eyes." –Julie Clark, The Ones We Choose
Jack Dalton, swore under his breath, spitting a mouthful of blood after his head snapped back against the rock wall where he was currently chained. He managed a sneer. "Damned if that wasn't a bit better, Walsh. Not quite manly, but not exactly teenage girl either. You're getting there."
The bucket of cold water that the observation earned him might have been refreshing if it hadn't stunk to high heaven of something like rotting leaves and the stuff Jack used to muck out of the milk barn at old man Levi's farm when he worked odd jobs there as a kid. Jack gagged, spit again.
He hoped to hell he hadn't swallowed any of the bacteria infested sludge being slung at him. A bout of intestinal distress was all he needed to aggravate the broken ribs he was certain to now be sporting thanks to standing in as a side of meat during Jonah's impressive display of boxing prowess. The man had a hell of a jab, but damned if Jack was going to tell him that. Instead, he gave another bloody grin.
"Hey, I know you could use the practice, but haven't you had just about enough of a workout today, Rocky? You're getting a little old to be pushing it." Talking and keeping his breathing to a shallow pant wasn't easy but Jack kept the shit-eating smirk in place just to piss off his tormentor.
Jonah rubbed his fist. "Funny, Dalton, but hurting you doesn't feel like work at all. In fact, it's invigorating."
"You're not the first to take some pleasure in it." Jack had definitely been worked over by worse, by men who wanted to break him. Walsh just seemed to be putting him through the paces. Interrogation tactics 101, only without any questions. For all Jack knew the man was bored, and despite what he said didn't seem to be enjoying it so much.
"I can imagine you have that effect on people." Jonah laughed, flexing his fingers.
Jack looked at him through his one eye that wasn't swollen shut. "Not really much sport in how you're doing it though, seeing as how my hands are chained over my head and my feet are secured. I didn't figure you for the lily-livered sort, but this sure ain't sparring." Jack needed to take a quick breath, his ribs protesting, his vision blurring at the edges as gray seeped in. "You're not one of those sorry bastards who shoot bears while they're hibernating, are you? Or worse uses a semi-automatic to take out some gentle giant like a giraffe or panda?"
"I should have figured you for a conservationist, Dalton." Jonah took the bucket he'd used to douse Jack and flipped it over so he could sit on top of it. Jack couldn't stop the breath of relief that escaped him as it seemed the hitting would temporarily be halted. Walsh shook his head. "All that time working with Mini Mac has made you soft. Shit, you're practically a democrat."
"Now that hurt." Jack grunted, trying to shift his weight a little into a less aggravating position. "Maybe you should stick to your trash talking game instead of trying to get your point across physically. By the way, what was your point?"
"Pain." Jonah scratched his beard, looking like he actually thought about the question. "Just pain."
"Right, payback for Gomez." Jack nodded, hoping like hell he would just pass out. Unfortunately, despite what he taunted, Walsh knew exactly what he was doing. The man inflicted just enough damage to ensure suffering but not so much to render his victim unconscious. Jack was just as well-versed in the skill, thanks to the CIA and his time in Delta. He supposed he should be thankful Walsh hadn't stripped him naked, put him in a box, or gone with waterboarding.
"You could have at least asked me some damn questions to make it more interesting, dude, kept my attention. I'm practically falling asleep here. Like you could have demanded the name of my first girlfriend, or who I voted for in the last presidential election."
Jonah sighed. "Do you ever shut up?"
"Mac says I have a condition." Jack shifted his shackled hands, the metal clinking slightly. He knew talking was his way of dealing with the pain. Every soldier had their own way to cope, because if you didn't deal with it, the pain dealt with you. Boxer ran football plays in his head, not just any plays, but the Cowboys plays, starting in the sixties before he was even born. Mac performed theoretical experiments in his ginormous brain or calculated complicated algorithyms that would defy the brightest thinkers of his generation. In Cairo, Jack had teased his partner that it would be a hoot if he actually figured out time travel and brought Jack back Doctor Who style so he could take their captives out in most painful ways before they had a chance to lay one finger on them. Jack glanced at the door just off to Jonah's left, thoughts of Cairo bringing on an exhaustion that had him sagging against his chains, dark dots dancing before his eyes.
"You definitely have a talent for getting under a man's skin." Jonah looked indifferent, though the hint of an unnerved frown appeared on his brow.
"You could always hit the showers? Don't let me keep you." Jack blinked, giving the other man another albeit weaker grin.
"Maybe later." Jonah stood, and Jack couldn't quite stop the flinch when Walsh moved towards him. The big man didn't strike Jack, but instead placed a hand against the wall, leaning close. "Right now I have to get my men ready for a bugout. We're Oscar Mike soon."
"Oh, good, you're leaving." If Jack could have mustered the energy he'd have reared back and slammed his forehead against the smug bastard's nose, but Jonah was also smart enough to stay just out of his reach. "Can't say I'm going to miss your ugly face. Walsh."
"No worries, brother. You're coming, too." Jonah roughly patted Jack's bloodied and bruised face. "Wouldn't want to disappoint baby boy. I mean your partner's come all the way to Peru to save you."
"Peru? That's where we are?" Jack had known it was humid as hell. He forced a laugh, working hard not to let fear show on his face. From the way his heart thudded against his chest he was almost afraid Jonah would hear it. Thoughts of a rescue warred with the awareness that Mac had just put himself in harm's way. Jack licked his busted lip, the movement stinging. "I wouldn't count on MacGyver not getting distracted. That damn kid loves Machu Picchu and any other archaeological find old Doctor Jones would explore. Then there's the rain forest itself. Hell, he's liable to be tagging howler monkeys, or milking an anaconda for some potentially cancer curing venom."
"We both know the only thing little Angus is here to collect is you, big fella." Jonah rammed his fist into Jack's stomach, before taking a step away. "I'll admit I was a little surprised when he showed so quickly. Hell, I wasn't sure he'd come at all, considering he dumped your ass and ran off to Puerto Rico to build houses when his daddy finally came out of hiding."
Jack tried desperately to recapture the breath that had been driven from him. He'd just managed a slight inhale when Jonah stopped his tight pacing, to stand firmly in front of him. Even with his vision swimming, Jack could tell the bastard was gloating. The man's words had held a punch of their own, and Jack was pretty sure by the new gleam in Jonah's eyes that his face had showed as much.
"That was a ball buster, right? I mean the kid and you have been through hell and back and you've always been right there. Like a faithful dog. I mean surely you knew it would have happened sooner or later anyway. Best big brother or not, the kid's a MacGyver." Jonah reached out and slapped Jack's cheek again, lightly at first, but then hard enough to sting. "I mean, take it from someone who knows. Guys like us aren't exactly the promoting kind and there's not much call for overwatch when your partner's sitting behind the big desk and smoozing with the brass. But that's the MacGyver MO, man. They only need you until they don't. And then they're quick to move on. Be glad you only wasted eight years of your life nursing that scrawny runt instead of the thirteen I squandered with Jimmy."
"So we're back to James breaking up with you?" Jack refused to let Walsh's prodding goad him into the reaction the other man was so obviously hoping for. He'd be lying if he said he didn't have some worries about Mac quitting Phoenix and taking off, maybe even some doubts about what he thought was their unshakable partnership and where he now stood with the kid, but he'd be damned if he let Walsh get his jollies off on his lame insecurities. Instead he managed to roll his one good eye, shaking his head, although it set off a new round of pain. "Damn, that must have been a hell of a blow off. You really are a twelve year old girl."
"You know," Jonah moved closer, his grim features hardening. "If your boy wasn't so hell bent on saving you, he might have taken a moment to wonder why his daddy was willingly putting himself in the same situation he was in while in Mexico. I mean, the man's a lot of things, but James MacGyver is nobody's fool. He has to know that I know that he knows this is a trap. Loyalty's not exactly his strong suit either. So that means he's undoubtedly got a whole other agenda on the table for coming here and it sure as hell ain't rescuing you or placating that kid of his." Jonah tapped his forehead. "When he's focused like that, wrapped up in his big old brain, he doesn't see anyone else and people tend to get hurt. Your little brother's not going to be immune to the fallout, Dalton. I mean I for one, won't look a gift horse in the mouth, because I can't wait to get my hands on the brat after the mess he made of my operation, but I imagine you don't feel the same especially now that you know all this with you was just a warm up for me."
Jack realized Jonah was switching tactics, using a whole other different insecurity against him. A much more effective one. The one where Jack failed in his job to keep Angus safe, and as much as Jack didn't want to believe anything would come between him and Mac, he took the kid's safety much more personally than his own worries about being replaced or no longer needed. He tried to rationalize that Walsh was depending on Mac for the serum and wouldn't hurt him, at least not until he had what he wanted. That would give Jack time to get his partner out of there. But the kind of fear that Walsh's gleeful leer set free wasn't something to be rationalized with. Much like a tiger freed from a cage, it couldn't be cajoled into returning to it's prison once it was set loose on it's captor.
"So cat finally got your tongue?" Jonah sneered and Jack wondered if the man had somehow been privy to his private metaphor. "I sure do wish the key to controlling James was so clear cut, but you see, I'm not sure he's going to be as cooperative and fun to torment as you might. I mean I put a gun to his boy's head right in front of him, finger poised at the trigger, and he didn't so much as flinch. He knows I don't play. I'm not sure what to make of a father who shows no fear in the face of losing his one and only son, let alone watching him have his skull tapped, so I've had to be creative this go-around."
Jack wasn't really surprised that Mac hadn't confided all the details of what went down in the lab in Mexico, but he still had to work hard at looking unfazed by Walsh's recounting of the events. It took a monumental effort not to buck his restraints in hopes of getting his hands on Jonah. Instead, he gave a dazed blink, licking his lips. The taste of copper and sweat assaulted his senses, churning his stomach. He still managed a smirk. "What I think is that if you believe you can outsmart either of those men, then you're dumber than I thought you were."
"Well, hell, Jack, me challenging the MacGyvers to a game of wits would be about like Mini Mac or Jimmy challenging one of us to a shooting match, although I have to tell you, James's aim isn't half bad." Jonah folded his arms over his chest, looking smug once more. "Any good soldier knows you don't pick a weapon your enemy's well-versed in using, especially on a playing field upon which he always finds victory. In fact, if you're able, it's best to choose a whole other game entirely, one he has no experience with."
"If that's your tactic, then me and old Sun Tzu would probably suggest maybe going with Fortnite, or something old school like Pictionary." Jack gave a smirk. "I'm pretty sure your buddy Oversight's not watched a movie or read a good fiction book since sometime in the early eighties."
"Damned if you're not as funny as you are irritating, Dalton." Jonah laughed. "But you see I was thinking more along the lines of Blind Man's Bluff. I don't know about your partner, but James MacGyver doesn't like surprises. In fact, for a man who prides himself on improvising, he hates not predicting what comes next. It shakes him up." Jonah moved quick, bringing his elbow up and pressing it precisely against Jack's throat.
"For instance, me killing you instead of using you as a bargaining chip." Jack thrashed as the other man leaned into the hold, increasing the pressure, effectively cutting off oxygen. Fear gave way to panic as Jack was helpless to do anything to evade or escape. "That would blow his mind."
Jack was desperate for one precious gasp of air. Through the pin pricks of light now bursting in his field of vision, he caught Jonah's deadly serious gleam, heard his growl of one last promise over the rush of blood in his ears. "Trust me, Jack, James MacGyver has no idea what's coming."
Jack's last conscious thought was that he hated like hell that Mac had left the safety of Puerto Rico and made a very long trip to Peru to rescue him for nothing. For the first time, he suddenly wished his kid had been more like his father- the biological one, not the one who liked helicopters. If there was an afterlife, Jack would make it his priority mission to come back from it and kill James MacGyver for being such an idiot as to let their boy ever come.
To be continued…