author's note: tequila does not have a worm in it. Jack's not as smart as he thinks he is.

From Allison MacGyver's point of view, it has been one horribly frustrating summer.

She has lots of ideas about the proper way to counsel somebody through the grieving process; researching that had been her own form of therapy after the car crash, she's well aware. None of which agrees with her mother's idea of handing her brother over to a prayer-obsessed nut with no idea how to relate to children.

For goodness sake: if they're going to treat Mac like a criminal, they might as well just give him up to the police already. A juvenile sentence for manslaughter ought to clear his conscience better than any mumbo-jumbo. (Any other town, it would have happened: but not here in Mission City. The FCI is somewhere for other people to go, not Missionaries.)

She's surreptitiously eavesdropped on the prayer sessions; Mother hasn't barred her from going to the basement, and Mac's homemade intercom goes both ways. It's frankly appalled her. Her sweet, impressionable little brother is being indulged to positively wallow in guilt- which he is way too good at already- and the only reason she's been able to hold her tongue at all is that he spends most of the day with cheery Jack Dalton. The happy little prankster is exactly what Angus needs in his life right now- well, besides her, but mom keeps sending her off on one pretext or other. She suspects that it's on purpose. (It's rotten not having her brother around to cuddle whenever she feels like it; that can't be helping his state of mind either.)

The intercom's also let her know about Jack's nightly liquor sessions- and doesn't she wish she had a friend good enough to tell about 'em, cos they're hilarious. Angus can get awfully loopy when he's drunk.

So, despite her fears, the situation's resolved itself without her having to do anything. Angus has been pulled out of the slump almost despite himself, has successfully tutored the ten year old into his class ("Mac, I wish I had a summer to recover from this summer"- "You and me both"), and getting back to both school and his workshop will do him a world of good. It's fine. They're good. Yay.

And then, the Saturday before school's due to start, Mother suddenly informs her that it isn't. Because in Wisconsin school won't begin for a fortnight, and that's where they're going. All alone for the autumn with Mr Davies, while she finishes packing up and sells off the shop.

Allison's forgotten about that whole mess, in her concern for her brother.

Why- but seriously, why- does she keep focusing on all the wrong things?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I couldn't get any brandy today, but! Something great from back home," Jack says, pulling out a fiery-looking bottle. "Raw tequila. It's supposed to have a worm in it, but you guys don't have the right kind up here."

Mac samples it, a little dubiously. Does quite a bit of coughing in the next five minutes.

"Yeah, it can hit like you like that the first time," Jack says with a nod. Takes a big gulp himself.

"Oh, geez! That...that is awful. Sorry. I didn't think it'd be that bad."

"It's okay, really," Mac says. "I mean, we couldn't have kept this up during the school year anyway- you're going to need your sleep. And I'm sleeping a lot better these days anyway. You can keep it."

"Aw," Jack says. "You short-circuited the whole thing."

"What thing?"

"I had this big plan, to fob you off with something that wasn't alcohol and stick around until you went to sleep tonight, then tell you tomorrow night. Give you some self-confidence about getting on with your life. But I guess you don't need that after all, do you?"

"...then what was in the bottle?

"Vinegar, hot sauce, some food colouring to make it look interesting. Figured you wouldn't notice the difference."

"Don't think I would...you know, thanks for being around. And- and everything, you know?"

"Don't mention it," Jack says easily. "You know I won't."

At which point, there's a knock on the door.

In one deft motion, Jack swipes the bottle and his rucksack, and dives under the bed (it's across the room from the window, so quicker and easier to reach). Surprisingly tidy underneath, not even dust bunnies; but then, Mac hasn't had much to do this summer.

"Yes?" Mac calls.

"It's sis. Let me in, will you?"

The door creaks open, then shut again; Jack rolls his eyes as Allison cuddles her brother. Hugs seem to be her standard conversation opener, at least where her family's concerned. Though he's never seen her hug Nelson Davies, so she must have some sense of taste. Or self-preservation.

"What is it? We're both supposed to be asleep."

"I know- look, I don't wanna scare you, but is Jack here yet?"

"He left," Mac says promptly. "How long have you known about that?"

"All summer, I thought he was doing you good- I really wanted to talk to him," Allison says, sitting down on the bed with a sigh. "We've got until noon tomorrow to break up Mom and Mr Davies."

"I don't get it," Mac says, sounding very confused. "Allison, they're- I mean, Mom's in love. And I've been talking to Mr Davies every day, he's not that bad once you get to know him."

"That's not right," Jack says, ducking out from under the bed. "Look. It really isn't."

"Thought you'd be here," Allison says, without smiling. "Angus, you might have had more practice lately, but you're still not any good at lying."

"Haven't really got the heart for it, when it's you- look, I think you're both wrong. I've had a pretty rough time of it this month, and he made me feel a lot better."

"He probably did," Jack agrees. "Found it easy to be nice to you, cos he liked seeing you in the dumps. That's just how the guy is, he gets a kick out of other people being just as depressed as he is- but c'mon, you weren't going to stay that miserable forever, were you?"

MacGyver looks at his sister and his friend, brave and anxious. Thinks about how Jesse wouldn't have wanted him to give up on himself; they'd been better friends than that. And, in a private and deeply selfish corner, just desperately wants to get back to his workshop so he can get on with Inventing Things already.

"No. I guess I'm not."

"Well, you're going to be if we can't think up a plan. C'mon," Allison says to Jack. "Pull another rabbit out of the hat, like you did at church. Figure out some way to scare him off- and do it in a way that makes our mom just as sick of him."

"Do you know how long I spent, working it out?" Jack says, scandalised. "You don't come up with a good con like that in twelve hours, I'd need more time to work! Can't you guys just tell her the truth?"

"I'm still not convinced he's that bad a guy," MacGyver puts in.

"And I've already told mom I don't like him. She thinks it's out of loyalty to Dad, and because I don't want to leave Mission City- of course I don't want to leave Mission City! This is where we live! But we don't have any more time- if she loses the shop, that's it. It's her home and livelihood and social life and everything else, wrapped up and tied with a bow. We can't let her do that."

"Tell you what," MacGyver says, thoughtfully. "Just how bad did he treat you, anyway?"

Jack winces. "It was tricksy. Look- I didn't miss that many meals, I didn't get hit that much. But he has this rotten way of keeping you off-guard, not knowing what he's gonna think up next, and every time you try to relax is right when he'll drop something horrible, just to rub it in. I've had a better time in places where I got clipped round the ear every day, because at least I could see that coming. The only way to live with Nelson Davies is to be on your toes all the time- I tell you, I slept on this rucksack. I wouldn't have put it past him to have taken it and set my flight jacket on fire, and told me afterwards that I'd hallucinated the whole state of Texas!"

"None of that sounds solid enough to convince Mom," Allison says, with ruthless desperation. "She wouldn't be inclined to believe you anyway, after the church thing- if you weren't actually hurt, we don't have a leg to stand on."

"Like I said, he's tricksy. I should have just gone back to Texas in the first place," Jack mutters.

"Yeah, you should have," Allison agrees. "So. For heaven's sake, tell me how to keep my brother safe."

"There's...there's…" Jack swallows, delves into his bag for a faded red kerchief. Starts to sniffle.

"Oh my god. Are you crying?"

Angus glares at her. Gets off the bed and puts a comforting hand round his friend's shoulder.

"I mean, Mrs Forrester knows that I was gonna pack up and go some time, when Uncle Charlie got out- but I- I don't want to leave now." He blows his nose copiously. "And not like this."

(Angus is cuddling someone who isn't family. She's almost jealous.)

Her rising sense of guilt at upsetting this ten year-old swamps her desire to ask whether Jack's completely blithering, and she averages out a more neutral response. "What, exactly, are you talking about?"

"There's only one thing to do. Say I want to come back and live with you guys."

"That...that isn't even remotely helpful."

"Yes it is," Jack says, a little more strongly now. "Look, you can see what a state I'm in about it, I can't let some innocent kid go through this, when it was my fault."

Ugh. "What are you gonna do for him, that I can't?"

"Steal chocolate bars. Lie. Take the blame when stuff goes wrong, act the clown, cheer him up when he needs a laugh- believe me, you are going to need all the laughs you can get in his house."

"But we went to all that effort to put you with the Forresters," MacGyver says suddenly. "I won't let you come, okay? No way, even if he is as bad as you say."

"Try and stop me."

"I'll tell Mom," Allison says, but bemused. Everything seems awfully topsy-turvy; she has a nightmarish impression that nothing is ever going to make sense again.

"Tell her what, that Nelson's adopted son wants to come home? I'm pretty sure that'll just make her happier- it's a lot easier to reinforce somebody's prejudices than remove 'em. And since I did make the cardinal carny mistake, and get involved where I shouldn't, well," Jack says, not making eye contact with Mac, "I guess I'll have to live with that."

"No, you won't." He's been thinking hard for the last few minutes, seeking a way out. "Your uncle Charlie, Jack- what was his name before? When he was still a girl?"

"Charlotte. Why, does it matter?"

"It might. Mother's sentimental."

"She doesn't care that he can't marry her yet," Allison says. "I heard them talking about it- just in terms of legal stuff, and hoo-hah like that."

"I've got something else in mind," MacGyver says, smiling now. "Cheer up, I think I can fix this."

He walks out, without another word. But whistling.

"Is it just me," Jack asks, "or do you actually believe him?"

"You know, I think I do…"