Let's Be Enemies

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: First and foremost, thank you so much for the kind reviews and comments and the private messages. To answer some questions, I promise Jack and Mac will never be at odds, at least not in one of my stories, not for long anyway. I appreciate so many asking about episode tags and if I plan to do any. The problem is, I haven't watched episodes-except for this past Fridays, which was amazing by the way, and a couple at the beginning of the season- since I found out that George Eades is leaving. I know that some feel it is traitorous to the show not to watch after Jack is gone, but for me…the show is Mac and Jack. I so respect your opinion and hope you can understand mine. I will continue to write and may even attempt a tag, but it may depend on how Jack leaves. I believe he is on one or two more episodes, possibly Ep 3:13 and 3:14. Let's hope his exit it is handled in a way that is fitting of the Jack we love. He is not, I don't believe, in tonight's episode. So, I hope this chapter will help those, like me, who are missing our guy. As always, thanks to Mary who made this better. PS...I hope I didn't overdo it in the Jack and Mac parts. I think I might be overcompensating a bit, and Mary is no help at all when it comes to reeling in the hurt/comfort. In fact, she encourages my madness.

RcJ

Jack kept his hand hovering just above his weapon as James pounded on the door once more. He could sense Mac and Bozer just behind him, where he'd motioned for them to stay. His muscles were tensed, the throbbing in his arm had long since been mentally shoved to the background. There was a bark from the other side, scratching against the wood. The yip sounded once more then a man's muffled voice could be heard admonishing the dog to be quiet, to get back along with, "Waz zum Teufel", which Jack was sure translated to something like 'What the hell?' or maybe 'What the devil?'.

"Who's there?" The words were German still, but Jack easily translated this time, his brain having shifted gears. He wasn't fluent in anything but Texan, but he knew enough of several languages to blend in, to survive. Nowhere near as skilled as his partner or Oversight in his ability to converse, he could get by with the basics.

James responded in English, knowing Accola purportedly spoke not only their native tongue but French and several dialects from Afghanistan.

"Dr. Accola, we need your help. My son is sick." James glanced at Jack, leaning closer to the wooden door. He raised a brow at the sudden silence. The whipping wind and pelting snow was wearing Jack's patience thin, as was the sound of Mac's harsh breathing behind him along with the intermixed, swallowed groans the kid was trying to hide. Jack gritted his teeth. He drew his gun, planning to get them inside one way or the other. James held up a hand, waving for him to put the weapon away, a disapproving look on his face. He seemed to glean Jack's intentions of kicking in the door. "Amelia told us you were here," James called over the roar of the storm, the pleading note in his voice not matching the expression on his face. "Please. We need your help."

After a moment Jack heard the sound of a bolt lock being slid away and the heavy door opened just a crack. Light spilled out into dark gray morning, reflecting off the snow which had been wind swept under the awning they were standing. Jack caught the scent of wood smoke, pine and the smell of frying bacon through the small partition. The scent of tobacco and whiskey also wafted out. It was almost as if he'd gotten a whiff from his grandparents' kitchen if Beth's kitchen had been settled in the back of an old English pub. Jack's stomach rumbled in kind. Despite his knowing better it almost felt inviting, the promise of a warm stove, a place away from the cold and the snow. He felt Mac's hand on his arm and when he turned to look at his partner the kid raised a brow at the gun, shaking his head slightly.

Jack sighed and put it back in its holster, the cold nipping at his side when he lifted his jacket. He sent another brief glance Mac's direction, not liking the paleness of his partner's skin. Jack exhaled slowly to focus back at the door, to face the man who was at least responsible for a small part of his nightmares. He couldn't see Accola but a wiry nose appeared near the bottom of the door, twitching. A furry white and brown head poked out. The dog barked a greeting.

"Amelia sent you out here?" The voice was skeptical, the English impeccable if not a bit slurred. The years stateside had obviously polished and perfected Accola's accent but he'd apparently had a belt of something besides coffee with his breakfast or maybe he was still drunk from the night before.

"In this?" The door opened just a bit more, and the doctor's incredulous face now appeared. Bloodshot but alert eyes roamed over them suspiciously. Accola looked older than the latest pictures Riley had shown them, and despite his longish white hair that stuck up in wild patches along his head and the hearty silver beard the familiarity Bozer had pointed out to Santa was poorly translated in this real-life in person version. He looked much more like the grim Schmultzi. Lean and wafish like a lone wolf who'd spent the winter without his pack to help him hunt. A yellowed t-shirt clung to his thin chest, and flannels barely hung from his hips beneath the worn and slightly tattered house coat he had presumably thrown on, if its rumpled state was any evidence.

"It's harrowing out here." James glanced to the sky with a sigh, easily covering any surprise he might have had at their host's sickly appearance while simultaneously acknowledging the terrible conditions they'd taken on. "She told us where you were, off on holiday, and suggested we visit the pharmacy."

"You should have taken her sensible suggestion." Accola now opened the door further, his rheumy eyes sweeping over the rest of their motley crew. His body still barred entrance, just a bit of warm light making it past him. The little dog behind him bounded out with a bark, dancing around Jack's feet with unabashed excitement despite nearly being buried in mounds that had billowed against the cabin front, tail wagging. Despite himself Jack felt a grin twitch at the little terrier's antics, uncaring about the snow quickly sticking to its wiry hair and nearly burying it as it pawed at Jack's leg to be picked up.

"Kepler, get down now." Accola frowned at Jack, who'd bent and scooped the pup up. It now licked his face, obviously much more delighted about the unexpected company than his owner.

"As in Johannes Kepler?" Mac spoke from Jack's side, his hand coming up to ruffle the dog's fur. The doctor's eyes showed a bit more life as he now considered the younger man, though the frown remained. "The astronomer?" Jack's partner queried further and Jack recognized the kid's tactic.

"Yes." Accola continued to stare at Mac, as he pulled his house coat closer around him, rubbed a hand over his bearded face. "You know Johannes Kepler's work?"

"He was one of the chief founders of modern astronomy." Mac's voice caught slightly and Jack noticed he dropped the hand he'd used to pet Kepler once more to his side. He wrestled a smile from the grimace. "As a novice stargazer, I'm a fan."

"My son is modest." James jumped on the opening. He flashed a proud smile in Mac's direction, playing the doting dad just perfectly. Jack had to bite the inside of his jaw. His attention divided between Accola and his deteriorating partner. "He's a physics major at MIT. About to finish up his last semester."

"An academic? You don't say." Accola perked up further at the idea, and Jack wasn't sure if the old man smiled or winced. His eyes landed once more on Mac. "You should be smarter than to come out in this, boy."

"I'm afraid that was my idea." James brought a hand to his chest, feigning apology. "I didn't check the weather before we left." He looked to Jack, ducking his head, a worried frown on his forehead. "I wasn't aware the storm would set in so quickly, but my brother, the pilot, did try and warn me. My only thoughts were for my son."

Accola followed James's gaze to Jack, who worked to dampen his surprise at the sudden cover. He still held the little dog in his arms and gently placed him back on the ground where the snow wasn't so high to give himself a moment. When he stood once more he inclined his head, a humorless smile on his face. "Older brothers always think they know best, even on subjects where someone else clearly has the most experience." Like concerning what's best for their sons, Jack thought, but clenched his fists to keep from saying more. He felt Mac and Bozer shift behind him again. From the corner of his eye Jack saw Mac hunching over slightly, face tight with pain. Bozer rested a comforting hand on his arm, while giving the former Delta operator a worried frown.

After a moment, Accola nodded, his gaze losing a bit of its suspicion. "Family can be difficult."

"You're telling me." Bozer chimed in, stepping around Jack his arms wrapped around himself. He gestured to himself, then James. "Try being adopted. Could we come in? Please. My brother really isn't feeling well." Jack wasn't sure if the teeth chattering was a subtle touch or if his teammate was just that cold but Accola finally seemed convinced of their harmlessness status as a ragtag vactioning family from the US and stepped aside with a sigh to gesture them in.

"Of course." He called Kepler and once everyone was inside the old man bolted the door behind them. The sudden silence was almost overwhelming as was the blessed warmth after being in the roar of the icy wind. Accola pulled his house coat tighter around him, shaking his head. "Today is not a day to be enjoying our mountains I'm afraid." He moved his gaze to the lone window with a wooden desk beneath it. The mullioned glass appeared to look out into a scape of pure white as the storm lashed it with sheets of snow. "I take it that is why you have come to Albinen?" He asked, wariness still present in his tone, as if he was sure he was missing something and worried at what he'd really just invited in his home. He rubbed a hand over his eyes. "A vacation?"

"Yes," James answered vaguely. He pulled his cap from his head, showering the hardwood floor with snow. He ran a hand over his damp hair, before gesturing to Mac. "We were enjoying your village immensely then Angus woke up ill this morning. I'm afraid it's put a damper on the holidays and now I've drug us out in this."

"Angus?" Accola motioned a hand to the coat rack by the door in a silent offering for them to remove their jackets even as he turned to pick up a mug from a small table beside him. Jack caught the way his hand shook. "That's an unusual name."

"My friends call me Mac," Mac said as Jack reached out to help his partner remove his jacket. As he did so, Jack glanced around the small cabin lit by the large stone fireplace and a few oil lamps. It looked to be two rooms, with a loft sleeping space above the stone hearth. It was cluttered but cozy. There were even two stockings hung on the mantle.

The furniture was sparse, a well-worn sofa with a patched quilt tossed over the back, two oversized chairs with a small kitchen area off to the right. Woven rugs dotted the floor along with dog toys and a well-chewed baseball. Overstuffed book cases lined the walls, their contents having spilled onto every surrounding surface so that it gave the place a look of a hoarder's library. Kepler trotted to towards the kitchen, doing a few circles before curling on the large cushion nestled near the pot belly stove where an iron skillet and a half-full bottle of whiskey sat. Jack's brows drew together slightly. It seemed he hadn't been wrong about the early morning Irish coffee.

"I'm Jim MacGyver, and this is Wilt." James clasped a hand on Bozer's shoulder as he jerked his chin towards Jack. "He's Jack."

"The pilot." Accola took a long drink from whatever was in the mug, his blue eyes once more locking with Jack's gaze. Jack suspected the man's scrutiny was instinctual, more than a typical distrust of strangers showing up in a snow storm in the middle of nowhere. "Did you learn to fly in the military, young man?"

Jack laughed at being referred to as young as he returned the doctor's gaze. "My father was a stick jockey," he kept his voice neutral, offered his best good old boy smile, "taught me everything I know."

"You look like a marine." Accola continued to consider Jack's as he took another drink of his coffee. Jack wasn't sure if the old man was drunk enough to buy the story they were feeding him even though what he'd just said was the absolute truth. Jack Dalton had learned all he needed to know about flying and so much more from his father. Like how a man who drank before noon was usually trying to erase the nightmares that had robbed him of his sleep the night before.

He didn't blink. "I'm no marine, Doctor."

"Although he did love to play G.I. Joe when we were kids," James said with a laugh obviously hoping to lighten the mood.

"Of course I had to drag Jimmy away from his nerdy science kit." Jack added his own touch of humor as he slipped his arms from his jacket, handing both his and Mac's coats to Bozer who was closer to the coat rack. He sent a fleeting look to his partner who had seemed to go even paler before focusing back on the man before him. "In the original comics G.I. Joe was a Special tactical unit called Delta commissioned by the Army, not the Marines." It seemed a casual comment on topic, but from the way Oversight cleared his throat, he apparently didn't agree.

"Could I have some water?" Mac asked suddenly, effectively changing the subject and cutting off any further questions on Accola's part. He gave a slight cough before gesturing to the kitchen. "Perhaps some hot tea?"

"Forgive my manners." Accola actually looked flustered, embarrassed even as his ruddy face took on more color. "I'm not used to entertaining, at least not here, in my woods. You've not caught me at my best, I'm afraid."

"We should be the ones apologizing," James replied, no longer glowering at Jack. "We understood you were on sabbatical for the holidays but came anyway. It seems you're the only doctor in the area."

"Outside of the city of Bern, yes. There are a few others scattered here and there, but with winter upon us they have been lured to warmer destinations for the holiday like migrant snowbirds." Accola moved towards the kitchen, his walk a little unsteady. He glanced at them over his shoulder as he filled a kettle with water from a jug and settled it on top of the stove. The old man took a treat from a jar and tossed it to Kepler while he was there. "Please have a seat, make yourselves comfortable."

James and Bozer claimed the two chairs. Jack followed Mac to the sofa, where the kid gingerly lowered himself onto the worn leather. A look of pain, followed by immense relief to finally be sitting washed over his face. "You okay, bud?" Jack asked quietly as he perched on the arm beside him. The kid did not look good, his face red from more than just the cold. Jack could practically feel the warmth radiating off the younger man. It made his own stomach clench.

Mac didn't reply, nodding instead.

"There is a homeopath at the spa," Accola continued, returning to them baring a cup of water for Mac. He held it out with both hands to keep it steady. "Have this until the tea is ready."

Jack reached out to take the glass when Mac hesitated moving. He fought the urge not to taste it himself just to make sure it wasn't poisoned. The doctor appeared harmless now, but Jack easily recalled the sharp eyes, the ones which had looked at him with little compassion when he'd sat beside his fallen men. Mac being the one who now needed this man's help brought forth a surge of anger and protectiveness that had him quaking just a bit as he finally handed off the cup to the kid.

Accola turned towards the fire seemingly unfazed by Jack's scrutiny. He added another piece of wood to the waning flames before he joined them, claiming the footstool in front of the sofa, coffee mug in one hand. "Silvan, that's the naturalist's name, has a nursing degree but is so enlightened now he believes aura cleansing, organic oils and acupuncture are the cure for everything." His blue gaze searched Mac's face. It made Jack's skin crawl. "I take it what ails you, young stargazer, might not be alieved by Reiki and some Cannabis?"

"I think I'd prefer a more traditional approach where my son is concerned." James spoke up before Mac could. Jack cut his gaze to Oversight, his hackles rising at the fact that as far as he was concerned the man had never shown much concern when Mac was hurt or sick. "I'd like any hands lain on him to belong to someone with an MD after his name."

"Natural remedies and alternative medicines have come a long way in unleashing the body's ability to heal itself," Mac countered wearily, leaning back slightly with a suppressed groan as the doctor rested his forearms on his knees, studying him closer.

"So the MIT physicist doesn't believe all these new treatments are cleverly marketed, dangerous quackery?" Accola raised a brow, something close to amusement crossing his face. He took another drink from his coffee. "Is science not your god?"

"It's more about the fact that Mac doesn't like doctors. Period," Bozer interjected not able to see the roll of eyes that Mac gave at his unwelcomed observation. "If someone told him he could stop a massive hemorrhage by drinking a green smoothie and getting some fresh air, he'd be chopping veggies and strapping on his Nikes instead of opting for any stitches."

"Wilt's not wrong," Jack joined in, smirking as his best friend now turned his annoyed gaze to him. He sent a side glance to the doctor. "But those of us who've been around the block a time or two know that unfortunately a real physician is the only thing that stands between a man bleeding out in the dirt."

"Your nephew doesn't seem to have any life threatening injuries." Accola narrowed his eyes at Jack, then returned his studious gaze to Mac. He ran a hand through his messy white hair. "The ski lodge has several men trained in triage for search and rescue purposes. I'm surprised Amelia didn't mention them to you. They are more than adequate in a pinch."

"I told her I mostly had a stomach ache." Mac confessed, a hand coming across his abdomen and he swallowed thickly. Jack could see the kid's façade of 'I'm fine' slowly giving way to the harsh reality of how he was truly feeling. He gave a sheepish smile. "She suggested I might eat more before drinking."

The doctor snorted, slapping a hand on his knee. "I have garnered the same suggestion from that woman a time or two, but as one admittedly familiar with hangovers, I don't remember them giving me a fever." Accola reached out and set his coffee down before placing the back of his hand against Mac's cheek. Jack gripped the edge of the couch when he caught the soured scent of whiskey and coffee on the old man's breath and he wanted to shove the old drunk out of the kid's space. Logically he knew that they needed Accola, that Mac needed help, but Jack couldn't stop flashing back to the doctor who'd refused his men treatment.

"Especially one as high as I wager yours is. How long have you had it?"

"A while," Mac hedged, not meeting anyone's eyes. "Maybe five or six hours, that I noticed anyway."

"How has your appetite been?"

"I've not really been hungry, at all." Mac shifted slightly, his breathing catching, obviously not comfortable with all the attention.

"For him, that's unusual," Bozer chimed in once again, worried eyes going from Mac to the doctor before meeting Jack's. "His metabolism is as high as his IQ. He out eats me and Jack most days."

"Unless he's buried in a project," Jack added, garnering another round of ice blue daggers from his best friend. "Then we have to remind him to breathe."

Accola nodded as if he not only understood such dedication but admired it. "And have you been nauseated?"

Here Mac hesitated. He glanced at Jack. "I've been sick a few times. That started about twenty four hours ago."

The tea pot began a low whistle and the doctor nodded to Jack. "Could you get that for me? The tea and honey are above the stove." Jack opened his mouth to protest, but Accola was already refocused, gesturing to Bozer this time. "Young man, Wilt, was it? Could you get my bag? It's on my desk."

Bozer was more obedient than Jack, hopping to the task, as Jack had yet made a move to leave his partner's side. The tea whistle grew louder. Kepler whined, apparently not a fan of the high-pitched noise.

"Could you lie back and lift your shirt so I can have a look?" Accola had refocused his attention on the patient, was now waving to the length of the sofa for Mac to stretch out.

Mac's blue gaze went straight to Jack, deer in the headlights taking on new meaning as fear and distrust raced through the blonde's eyes. Jack hesitated for only a second. It was long enough for Oversight to intervene.

"Angus, do as the doctor says. The sooner we can get you straightened out, the sooner we can be on our way, son." There was a clear edge of impatience, and it rankled Jack further. James's order was clear. They had a mission to fulfill and Mac needed to be on board. One-hundred percent. His sickness was no reason to abandon the mission altogether, though Jack had a completely different view on that than Oversight apparently.

Jack held the kid's gaze for a second longer. Angus MacGyver was one of the strongest, bravest men Jack had the privilege to know. But he had his vulnerabilities, just like any man. Mac's was feeling helpless, out of control-at the mercy of someone else. Bozer was right about the kid not liking doctors, but Jack understood the true distaste sprung from long-buried trauma and though he often joined in giving his partner hell about it to some extent, he also made it a point to let Mac know he was in his corner. That he had his back. Always.

Jack hoped he conveyed what he was feeling. It's okay. I'm here. Nothing is going to happen. You're safe. It was the same mantra he silently repeated on almost every mission since day one. Even if for months he'd secretly resented being saddled with the cocky bomb nerd at the end of his tour. The vow took on new meaning as he grew to like the young soldier, respect him even, and now that he loved him like a brother, like a son…Those promises were sacred and heartfelt in a way that made it nearly impossible for Jack to get his legs under him, to obey his command to move. The sooner he got the damn tea, the sooner he could be back.

The slightest inclination of Mac's head was all the prompt Jack needed, the silent acknowledgement that Jack had transmitted his intentions as sure as if he'd declared them out loud was the gunshot at the beginning of a race. He was halfway across the room before he even heard Mac shifting on the couch, reclining against the noisy leather.

"Where exactly is this pain you mentioned?" Accola had moved closer to the couch, taking a knee next to Mac.

"It started out sort of in the center." Mac drew his legs higher, reluctantly shifting his arm away from his side.

"Has it moved?"

Jack concentrated on Mac's voice even as he took the kettle from the top of the stove and moved it to the small counter. Kepler watched him with interest, pleading eyes tracking his every move. Jack tossed the small pup another cookie before he opened the cabinet door.

"I had some questionable Chinese and thought it was just some indigestion, maybe even food poisoning." Mac's voice was halting, whatever Accola was doing hurt his partner.

"Was it a sharp or dull pain?"

"Dull in the beginning."

"Constant or intermittent."

"Intermittent at first, but pretty much all the time now."

Jack caught Bozer's return out of the corner of his eye as he pulled a tea bag from yellow canister and quickly searched for the honey. The jar was all the way in the back and he had to stand on his tiptoes to reach it.

"And it's sharp, like a knife?"

"Yeah," Mac's breath caught once more and Jack glanced over his shoulder to see that Accola was leaned over the kid, his hand resting on Mac's left side.

"Does this hurt?" Accola's voice had lost the world-weary-tone, the doctor side of him seemingly taking over.

Jack unscrewed the jar, cursing the honey as it slowly dripped into the hot liquid. He wasn't sure why the urgency to return to Mac was so dire. It wasn't like Accola had any reason to hurt him. Oversight had said it again and again on the flight. They weren't there to secure a killer, but an instrument of peace. A end to a means, in which a son would be returned to his father. Only Jack remembered other sons. Ones who were returned to their families in boxes. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to take a couple of slow even breaths.

"Not really?" Mac answered, hesitantly. "It's a little sore, but that could be from the workout I did the other day."

"He's been practicing his planks," Bozer's voice rumbled and Jack realized he was trying to distract his roommate. "My girlfriend can kick both our butts in plank position. Which is why he had the questionable Chinese in the first place."

"A woman who knows her mind is always a dangerous force to be reckoned with." Accola said conversationally. "And here?" He queried again.

"Some, but I feel it more on my right." Mac's hiss of pain had Jack setting the damn honey aside. He plunged his finger in the hot liquid, stirring it heedless of the burn to his skin and what anyone would think of his manners. He'd just made it across the room and back to the couch in time to see that Accola's hands had now moved to Mac's right side, fingers palpating different areas of his abdomen.

Surprisingly the kid hadn't much more than flinched when the man pressed in and Jack started to release the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as the boy looked up at him. But then Accola lifted his hands away and Mac choked back a scream.

It was the sound made by an animal in pain. One that had been suddenly hurt. Jack had heard a deer make such a cry once, the one and only time he'd gone hunting with some of his friends from high school, and he'd heard soldiers give that sound when they'd been surprised by the enemy… gut shot, dismembered, set on fire.

"Mac." Jack would have dropped the tea cup, but Bozer was there. He shoved it at his teammate, hearing the other man hiss as the hot water sloshed on his hands. Jack was set solely on putting himself between Mac and the source of this surprise attack.

"Ja...ck." Mac managed his name, having instantly curled on his side, both arms protectively locked over his stomach, knees drawn up high. His face was contorted in pain, his eyes squeezed shut as he panted through the onslaught, an atypical string of four letter words slipping out.

"Hey," Jack dropped to his knees, one hand on his partner's shoulder, the other resting against his head. "Easy, bud. You're okay. I got you." Jack ran his hand through the kid's damp blond hair. He could feel the heat of the fever he hadn't realized was quite so high.

"Jack?" Bozer crouched next to him, having gotten rid of the cup of tea somewhere, open concern on his face. His voice wasn't laced with pain like Mac's but it also demanded Jack do something. That he fix what was happening as if it was the older agent's sole purpose to prevent scenarios just like this one.

"You with me, kid?" Jack queried, trying to keep his voice casual, calm.

As Mac's breath evened out, his body relaxed some. He blinked up at Jack, eyes bright with fever. "Guess it's not the flu."

It wasn't an accusation, but to Jack it sounded like failure. He swung his gaze over his shoulder to Accola. "What the hell was that, old man?"

"That was McBurney's point, better known as rebound tenderness." The doctor's face remained neutral, unaffected in the face of Jack's anger and Mac's pain. Although he finally looked sober, eyes sharp. A frown appeared on his face.

"Tenderness my ass," Jack growled his gaze going back to Mac, a hand resting on Mac's shoulder. "He's hurting."

"That's because his appendix is inflamed." Accola looked to James, face grim now. "Your son is a sick young man."

"Mac has appendicitis?" Bozer croaked, looking from Mac's still curled form to Accola. He did not manage the calm resolve that Jack had and Mac shifted beneath Jack's touch in response.

"Boze, it's okay. Don't freak out."

"A progressed case, I'm afraid." The doctor nodded, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You're sure?" For the first time it sounded like James's dropped his guard, as if he'd been dumbstruck by the diagnosis and lost his tight fisted grip on the illusion he was projecting. Jack was always moved by these 'Great Oz' moments as he'd come to see them. James MacGyver revealed to be just as vulnerable and human as the rest of them. Sometimes he was moved to show compassion, to reconsider his beliefs about Oversight, but at others he was merely moved to fury. Like now.

"He's a doctor James, a renowned surgeon," Jack growled, his hand hovering to keep Mac still, though he knew the kid wanted to right himself, to ease the mounting tension that was present now. Even the pup, Kepler, had come over, his paws on the couch so he could stare worriedly at the patient. "More than that. An award winning, groundbreaker in his field. Is that not what you called him?"

And like Oz, who made his share of misteps, Jack was at times his own worst enemy. He'd let his anger and worry trip him up, fall out of the act, just like James. Reveal who he really was. A man terrified for his brother. An agent protecting his partner. A pseudo-parent terrified for their very real child. A wolf in sheep's clothing. The slip was only for a second, but his bumble was more telling than James, who only showed fear. Jack had showed he had knowledge and knowledge was power.

"Did Amelia tell you that?" Accola stood on shaky legs, his hand gripping his housecoat once more. His gaze volleyed from James to Jack and then lastly to Mac, who with Jack's help was slowly sitting up. "But of course she didn't. Who are you people? What are really doing here?"

"My son is sick. You said that yourself." James sighed deeply. "We need your help."

"That I believe." Dr. Accola inclined his head to Mac. "I'm just no longer sure that my medical expertise is what brought you to my door."

"No, that was an unexpected inconvenience."

Jack glared at Oversight. Had the man actually referred to his son as an inconvenience?

"More like a convenient cover. No?" Accola rubbed a hand over his mouth. "I assume you're with the government? American agents? Yes?" His blue eyes moved back to Jack, then to Mac who was upright but leaning against his partner. "You are military. Both of you."

"I did go to MIT," Mac said hoarsely. "I studied chemistry and physics."

"But you're true classroom was the battlefield. " Accola shook his head. "I'm an old drunk, half-blind, but even I can smell the blood on your hands."

"Shut up." Jack stood up, stepping toe to toe with the old doctor. "Unless you want to add hypocrite to your description of yourself."

"I can say with good conscience that I spent my time in the war saving lives. You can say the same?"

"No." Jack clenched his jaw, jerked a thumb at Mac. "But he did. His bravery as an EOD saved countless lives, unlike a coward who hid behind his high handed principles."

"And what did you hide behind, boy?" Accola jabbed a finger at Jack, his own fascade as harmless old man giving way to vitriol and indignant rage that made him look a bit like a deranged mall Santa who'd reached his limits with wailing kids and demanding parents. "An armored vehicle? The sights of a missile launcher or perhaps something more personal like the scope of a sniper's rifle. I saw many of your kind. In fact, is it possible you and I have met?"

"Don't you mean you turned a blind eye to many of my kind." Jack seethed, refusing to acknowledge their past. He doubted Accola truly recognized him. To men like the pious doctor soldiers all looked the same.

"That's enough," James voice was sharp and commanding once more. All pretenses and playacting dropped. "Stand down, Dalton. Now."

He took a step back, only because Mac had said his name as well. Jack. It was quiet, pain-laced and weak, but it still held so much more sway than Oversight's barked order.

"Dr. Accola we haven't been completely honest with you, but we have little time for explanations. Even if my son's diagnosis wasn't grim, we have a timeline."

"Is he even your son?" Accola glowered at James. "There is no need to keep the ridiculous charade going."

Jack nearly seconded the old man's suggestion but there was Mac to consider. He had begun to consider James MacGyver just that, a ridiculous charade, a sham of a father. But Mac was already in pain. Jack would not add insult to injury, knowing that his kid was far more susceptible to emotional wounding than any physical danger.

"Angus is my son and he's sick. That was not part of my plan and although we've been sent here on a mission to ask you for your help, I'm now asking for it not as someone merely under orders but as a worried parent as well. Surely, you of all people can understand that- the lengths a father will go for his child. Your son was close to the same age as Angus, was he not?"

"So you'd use my own dead son against me?" Accola asked, his blue eyes hardening. "Nothing is sacred to you diplomats."

Jack shared a glance with Mac. Once more they had been left out of the loop. Jack should have been used to Oversight having an ace up his sleeve, or was it another card all together. The joke always seemed to be on them.

"I'm only pointing out that you lost a child. It's unnatural. You understand there is no worse pain. As a father, I understand that potential as well. That's why I agreed to come on this mission in the first place." James almost sounded genuine. "Angus isn't the only young man in jeopardy. There is one being held in Afghanistan by people who do not have his best interests at heart. He's in danger of losing his freedom, maybe even his life and we believe you may be our one hope in saving him."

Accola was quiet for a long moment and when he did speak it was to Jack, not James. "If I were you, I'd be much more concerned about your own boy than the American Senator's son."

RcJ

"You know about the reporter?" Mac asked, hunching over a little more as his side gave another sharp twinge. He felt Jack tense at the unwelcome revelation or maybe the older man was reacting to Mac's pain. Jack was helpless to do anything about either at this point.

Accola sat once more on the ottoman, looking depleted and wrung out, running a slightly shaking hand through his white hair. If he resembled Santa at all now, Mac imagined it was after the jolly old elf's physics defying feat of racing around the world at the speed of light to deliver gifts to all the boys and girls. He'd never considered the toll that would take on a body. Perhaps old Mr. Clause would also be drunk and disastrous after a year of stressful preparations and working under such pressure. Mac shook his head slightly, it was getting harder to keep his head in the game.

"I may be living in the outskirts of civilization, but I am not under a rock. Bad news still finds me. Even out here it seems." His eyes moved to James, narrowing once more. "Bad people as well."

"We're not the bad guys," Bozer disagreed. He was hovering near the sofa, on the other side of Jack, frowning at Accola. "We're the ones trying to save a life. We have the white hats."

"You think the others do not say the same thing?" Accola's tone remained tired, resigned. He ran a hand over his unkempt beard. "There are always two sides to the story, sometimes many more. The truth hinges on an octagon of possibilities." He looked at Mac. "Collateral damage abounds."

"Spoken like a man who knows how to play all those sides for whatever suits him," Jack spoke, his voice thrumming with energy and anger, that had seemed to increase in direct correlation with Accola's waning defiance as if the man's acquiescence only fired the former Delta's rebuke. Predators became frenzied when pray was wounded. Mac's partner was a wolf with the scent of a bloodied deer, an Alpha protecting its pack. "We all know you were as bendy as a limp noodle when it came to what was right, Accola. If there was collateral damage you sure as hell helped cause it. If you think my partner will become one more victim to your 'hand's off' approach. You're very wrong." The last words were spoken between clenched teeth, Jack's gaze hard and serious.

"Once again, I don't think you're helping matters, Jack," Bozer ground out, the fingers of his hand that still steadied Mac digging into his arm. Mac looked up at him, catching the flash of fear in his roommate's dark gaze although he had a smile plastered on his face. Bozer still thought Accola could be convinced by niceties to come along with them. Jack had been right when he said their teammate was still innocent.

"Our government reached out to you already?" Mac asked, and heard Jack sigh. His partner seemingly thought that was the least pressing of their problems but focusing on the job helped Mac keep his own fear at bay. He needed for things to make sense, even in his fever fogged brain. He rubbed a hand over his eyes when his vision blurred, exhaustion was mixing with the now constant pain. Mac gritted his teeth when his legs refused to keep him upright any longer and he heavily sat back down on the couch with a swallowed groan. There would have been a dialogue. Of course, the means of least resistance would have been employed in the delicate nature of the political scope. Phoenix was a last resort, not an emissary of diplomacy as they'd been led to believe. Jack had been right when he'd referred to this as more of a high valued target extraction, a job more fitting of SOF than them. Only to bring in special operations was to risk a scandal, something no one in their government obviously wanted. Maybe Mac's age and his time at MIT had more to do with their being in Albinen than did their track record in the field.

"They extended an invitation to join in a dialogue with the Afghanistan regime. I refused." He waved a hand to encompass them. "So they have sent a delegation to collect an old man. Chosen to use force. I'm not sure if I should be insulted or buoyed that the convoy contains only two soldiers."

"You'll accompany us back to town and we'll discuss our next steps there." James spoke coolly, his voice leaving no room for arguing.

"He'll take care of Mac first," Jack interrupted. He turned to face Oversight. "That is now our priority mission. He can barely stand up. You really think he needs to go back into that." Jack gestured to the window where the wind picked up fervor as if on Jack's cue. Kepler jumped up to join Mac on the couch. Mac curled his fingers around the little dog's fur, thoughts of Archimedes flooding his mind as he waited for Oversight's response. Whatever his father might have countered was lost to him as Accola spoke first.

"There is nothing I can do for the boy, here."

Mac lifted his gaze to the doctor. The old man actually looking apologetic. "If you had sought my treatment in the village. I would have given you antibiotics and advised you be taken to the hospital in Bern immediately. Surgery, in my opinion, is needed." He looked up at Jack. "The only way to take care of him at this point."

"But we have some time, right?" Mac asked, having already considered the possibility that he had appendicitis. Sometimes the malady didn't even require surgery. It could be a passing flare up and if it did require a drastic intervention, there was often time before the patient was in jeopardy. Sure he felt horrible, but that didn't mean he was at risk, not like with an internal injury or gunshot wound. The annoying realist's voice in Mac's brain, the one that always sounded a lot like his grandpa, Harry, whispered that this was probably wishful thinking. "We can get back to Albinen and then to Bern."

"Mac…" Jack started.

Mac raised a hand, not daring to chance a look at his partner. He knew Jack's priorities, loved him for that but they were still on a mission and there was another innocent life to consider as well. He kept staring at Accola. "Doctor?"

"It's possible, but it is also just as likely your appendix will rupture. That will complicate matters greatly. An appendix perforation allows infectious waste into the abdominal cavity causing peritonitis, which could be fatal if not treated promptly."

"Waiting around here won't stop that from happening though?" Mac once more didn't look at his best friend. He felt Bozer step closer to him. Mac suppressed a shiver.

"No." Accola shook his head. "At this point I can't predict when that might occur but considering your symptomology and the timeline you've given me, it's surprising that hasn't happened already."

"I should go get the chopper, bring it here." Jack looked from the door to the window, then to Mac, his body quaking with the need to do something, to act in a way that would stop the disaster Accola had just predicted. When it came to Mac, Jack was willing to hold back any wave, to lift his fists against a Tsunami.

"And land where, Dalton?" Oversight demanded, his temper showing for the first time as his logic warred with Jack's plan that had absolutely nothing to do with the pragmatic. They were opposite ends of the spectrum in so many ways, Mac realized. From the way they saw the world to the way they saw Mac.

"On the fucking rooftop if need be," Jack responded instantly, voice rising also. Keplar curled closer to Mac as the former Delta returned his gaze to Mac, unfamiliar desperation raging like the storm outside the cabin. "I'll take us all to Zurich. Then the Phoenix jet can get Accola to Afghanistan."

He wanted Mac to concede to agree to stay put and wait, but as much as Mac was Jack's brother, his boy, he was undeniably his father's son. A crisis was no reason to abandon logic, in fact, such times demanded it be present. In some ways he and Jack were Yin and Yang as well.

"Landing on the side of this mountain would be risky even in good weather, Jack." Mac swallowed hard, his voice cracking. He held back a sudden need to cough, pinching the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. "What good is you crashing the bird going to do anybody?" Mac rushed on before Jack could answer, meeting his best friend's gaze. "I can make it back to the village. Flying from there will be a big enough challenge." He moved Kepler from his lap and stood to prove his point. He even managed to stand mostly straight though the pain in his side nearly stole his breath. Honestly, Mac wasn't sure he could manage what he claimed, but he also realized he didn't have much choice.

"I won't be accompanying you," Accola stated, picking up his dog and holding Kepler to his chest. "We'll be staying here."

"Like hell you will." Jack jabbed a finger at the old man. "You're coming with, and your little dog, too. Even if I have to carry you myself."

"Dalton's right, Doctor," James confirmed, voice hard. "Wilt, please accompany our travelling companion as he gets dressed and gathers whatever he might need. He'll be joining us for the return trip to the village."

Mac watched Accola's face for a sign he would balk or maybe even fight them as the realization he was- in theory at least- being kidnapped. Instead he seemed resigned to his fate, placing Kepler back on the floor before motioning to the set of stairs that would take them to the loft space above.

"Alrighty then." Bozer flashed Mac an uncertain glance before following the old man to his room. "Now that we know you're coming along," Bozer looked at Accola, "Is it possible you might have a sleigh stashed around here? Some flying reindeer?"

"I believe you've mistaken me for someone else." Mac heard the doctor murmur solemnly as they moved away. He wondered if that might not be true on many levels. Santa he was not, but perhaps Reuben Accola wasn't so much the evil Schmulzli either. Maybe the doctor was just a man who wanted to be left alone. One who'd tried to do what he believed was right, but had ended up causing more harm than he intended by acting on his version of the truth. Mac swayed slightly, glancing at his father, knowing all too well that the best of intentions sometimes inflicted unexpected, unforgivable collateral damage.

To be continued…