AN: This is about 7000 words, making it a very, very short episode, but I really didn't want to add too much 'filler' to this one and draw it out, for reasons that will hopefully become fairly clear as you read. Hope you enjoy anyway!
MACGYVER'S RESIDENCE
LA
'What the hell is that, brother?'
Jack, who'd just showed up with poppyseed bagels, stared at the thing that Bozer and Riley (now very much official – last month, Mac had wound up at Jack's on Valentine's Day, drinking beer and watchinga selection of Bruce Willis films, including Die Hard, while Bozer made Riley dinner) were driving around the floor of Mac and Bozer's living room. Bozer was grinning ridiculously in amusement, while Riley looked a little astounded at how much she was enjoying herself.
Mac grinned, seizing the poppyseed bagel bag out of Jack's hands and pulling one out.
'It's a remote-controlled potato car. There's a lot of electrochemical energy in a potato, I just harnessed it.'
With that, he took a large, enthusiastic bite of his poppyseed bagel.
Jack raised an eyebrow and nodded slowly.
'Right…'
Well, he'd always known his partner was crazy.
Mac was halfway through his second poppyseed bagel when the front door opened to reveal Thornton, holding four rather thick files in her arms.
She walked inside, closing the door behind her, and held the files out to them, one each, without any preamble.
'I've found the Phoenix a new doctor.'
Thornton and Doc have been searching for months, since just after Christmas.
It was always going to be a long, difficult search.
There were a lot of criteria.
Practical ones, like being trained in emergency medicine, being under forty, with no partner, children or any other dependents, not being well-known among medical professionals or active in the research community, and it being possible to establish a believable cover for them. That is, having some kind of reason to take a job at a think-tank, doing some research and looking after the staff.
And more intangible ones. Stubbornness, patience. A lot of us, I'll admit, are pretty terrible patients.
And a strong moral compass, a sense of idealism, wanting to do good and save lives above all.
And then there was a lot and a lot of vetting. Extremely thorough background checks, psych evals, even interrogations…
Combined with the fact that Thornton and Doc only considered candidates that came recommended by trusted contacts of theirs…well, it's been a very, very long search.
Overkill?
Possibly.
But after Nikki…well, let's just say we don't want that to happen again.
Really don't want that to happen again.
There was a photo on the right side of the top half of the first page in the file, which drew Jack's eye as soon as he opened it.
It showed a young woman, with long, light brown hair, pulled and pinned neatly back into a ponytail. She had brown eyes and wore a doctor's coat.
She was also pretty, and he'd even call her attractive if she didn't look young enough to be his daughter.
He read on.
Dr Beth Taylor, 26 years old in May.
He was about to make a snappy comment about whether she was even old enough to be a fully-qualified doctor (sure, he worked with Mac and Riley, but as smart as they were, Mac was a college dropout, and Riley's past was even more complicated – doctors had to follow a pretty by-the-book path to be qualified, in contrast), but the words died on his lips as he kept reading.
Dr Taylor graduated high school at 16 (like Mac, because she was a genius too), did pre-med in two years at Purdue (by, it seemed, starting as soon as her Senior year had finished, giving up her summer, and then giving up every break after that and spending them in class instead), and did medical school at Northwestern, followed by an ER residency in Detroit.
Then, she'd spent 9 months serving with MSF in Aleppo, Syria.
Well, there was the answer to his next question: what would be her cover for joining the Phoenix?
People would believe, easily, readily, without question, that a young female doctor like her, pretty and sweet-looking, and very, very young would be pretty broken by what she'd seen over in Syria, and that with her brilliant intellect, she'd choose to do research and prevent caffeine overdoses and treat diabetes and high blood pressure in think-tank staff instead of diving back into the stress and trauma of an ER.
He looked up briefly for a moment, making eye contact with Thornton, who held his gaze calmly and spoke.
'Dr Taylor comes highly recommended by Dr Chris Garcia, Doc's best friend since medical school. They served in the Army Medical Corps together, until Dr Garcia went civilian and Doc joined the DXS. Dr Garcia still serves with MSF; that's how he met her.' Thornton made eye contact with all four of them in turn, her eyes a little bit softer. 'I cleared her, and Matty cleared her.'
Jack looked back down at the file again.
All those people who'd believe that Dr Taylor was rather fragile would be very wrong.
He knew that she'd have seen some things over there, a little like how he and Mac had seen some things (more than some things, honestly) when they'd been over there.
If she'd made it through 9 months over there, and interrogation by both Thornton and Matty (who would not have gone easy on her in the slightest), and was still strong enough to be able to do this job…well, she had to be a lot tougher than she looked.
Jack looked up at Riley, then at Bozer, then Patty, then Mac.
Just like this lot.
They all turned the page (by some unspoken agreement, Mac and Riley had waited for Bozer and Jack to finish reading), and found that the rest of the file contained, essentially, everything on Dr Taylor.
Her psych evals, the transcripts of Thornton and Matty's interrogations of her, her whole life story…
If they read this, Dr Taylor would have no secrets from them, none at all.
Mac, Jack, Riley and Bozer looked up at each other, then at their boss, who held their gaze, ever-so-slightly uncomfortable, but also very resolute.
'If it helps you to trust her…'
If they ever needed proof that she was willing to bend the rules occasionally, because she really did care, this was it.
Riley closed her copy immediately, followed quickly by Bozer, and the two of them handed the files back to Thornton, who simply took them with a nod, as if she'd been expecting them to do that (which was probably true).
Everyone, Riley felt, was entitled to some secrets, and to not be pre-judged by what they'd done in the past (what mistakes they might have made). She trusted Thornton and she trusted Matty and she trusted their judgement and she trusted their entire hiring and vetting process.
Bozer firmly agreed with that. Mac, his best friend, had kept an entire secret life from him for years, and Bozer was well aware that there were still some things that Mac would never, ever tell him. He was cool with that and got that Mac had his reasons. That didn't change the fact that they were BFFs. It didn't seem right to read and learn a stranger's secrets when he didn't begrudge his best friend a few secrets of his own.
Mac turned back to the page that detailed Dr Taylor's educational history, staring at the file, but lost in his mind for a full minute.
He was so tempted.
So, so tempted.
It was wrong. He knew that.
It was the wrong thing to do to anyone, without a good reason, and even with a good reason…it still wouldn't sit well with him.
(Even with all of what Murdoc had done, even though it'd been so essential to force him to cooperate, he hadn't approved of using Murdoc's son against him at all. He'd understood it was necessary, but it didn't sit well.)
Dr Taylor hadn't given him a single reason to not trust her.
In fact, she'd given him, despite never having met him, many reasons to trust her, including being recommended by Doc's trusted contact, being cleared by the most thorough vetting and psychological evaluation process possible, and Matty and Thornton's interrogations to boot.
He trusted Doc. He trusted his Phoenix colleagues. Most of all, he trusted Matty and he trusted Thornton, and he trusted their judgement. They would not allow themselves to be fooled twice.
He knew enough, had enough information, to trust her to do her job. To trust her to be the Phoenix's doctor, he told himself. (He didn't wholly believe that, not yet, but, he told himself, from a purely rational perspective, he should trust her as the Phoenix's doctor. The more emotional and irrational parts of him would take some time, some persuading, he knew, which would only happen once he actually met Dr Taylor.)
Reading this entire file, learning all her secrets when he was but a stranger to her…that was not the right thing to do to a woman who had decided to devote her life to helping people and saving lives (sacrificing, he was completely sure, many other, more glamourous offers to do so – with her intellect and obvious drive, she could have become a well-recognized academic or eventually taken a well-paid and well-titled role in R&D in Silicon Valley or the like), and was going to give up so much to become the Phoenix's doctor.
Mac always, always, always tried to do the right thing.
He closed the file, and handed it back to this boss, who looked at him for a long moment with something inscrutable in her eyes, then turned to Jack.
The older man closed the file, but didn't hand it back.
'Can I hang on to this for a while, Patty?'
Her dark eyes meeting his, she simply nodded.
Mac, Riley and Bozer all glanced at Jack, and Mac was about to say something when Thornton's phone rang.
She picked up, and listened for a moment, before hanging up again and turning to them, very grim and with a hint of anger in her eyes.
She held Mac's gaze and spoke words that he'd hoped he would never hear.
'Mac, The Ghost is back.'
PHOENIX FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS
SOMEWHERE IN LA
'Two hours ago, the LAPD bomb squad were called out to this block of condos in Koreatown.' An image came up on the screen of a rather nondescript condo building on a busy, buzzing street as Thornton spoke. She looked over at Mac, her eyes set and hard and cold. 'They found a bomb-within-a-bomb, both made of pure PETN. The second one caught them by surprise.'
Mac swallowed, throwing the paperclip ghost he'd been making down onto the table, then looked up at Thornton.
'How many casualties?'
Thornton looked at him for a moment with what Jack thought was sadness, as Mac stared at the picture of the condo building, eyes set and grim and determined and with anger simmering under the surface.
'No civilians, but two LAPD bomb techs.' Jack heard his partner swear under his breath, as Thornton continued. 'Mac, you're meeting Charlie at the site. Jack, I need you to stay here; Gonzales and his team are on another mission, and I need a SWAT team ready to deploy.' Jack glanced at his partner with no small amount of concern, not really wanting to let Mac go face this particular demon without him, but nodded (Charlie was a good man, and Jack trusted him, just as his partner did, and maybe Charlie did understand Mac's exact feelings about The Ghost a little better, being a fellow EOD and having known Mac when Pena's death was still very, very raw), as Thornton addressed Bozer and Riley. 'Bozer, Riley, there's got to be a money trail, find it.'
They all knew that this was unlikely to be the only bomb The Ghost had planted.
Something sinister was definitely afoot.
Jack walked with Mac down to the parking garage, and grasped his partner's arm just as the younger man was getting into the car.
'Go get him, Mac.' He paused for a moment. 'Drive careful. You're a bit of a menace behind the wheel.'
Mac snorted.
'Who was the one who crashed into a garbage bin in Maryland last month?'
Jack pointed at him, looking rather affronted.
'Hey, we were under fire, man!'
Mac shook his head with a little smile.
'Still crashed, Jack.'
Jack shook his head and muttered something about Mac having no respect for his elders, before squeezing his partner's arm one last time and stepping back.
Mac gave a small, grateful little smile as he started up the ignition.
He and Jack both knew very well that Jack hadn't (just) been referring to his driving when he'd told him to be careful.
DETONATION SITE
KOREATOWN
LA
Charlie reached out and clasped Mac's hand, pulling him a little closer and slapping him on the back, a gesture that Mac returned with a wan smile.
'Hey, Charlie. How's Marissa settling into LA?'
Charlie's girlfriend had received a job transfer to LA from New York (some strings had been pulled) when it became clear that Charlie was going to be working for Matty indefinitely.
Charlie's smile widened despite the situation.
'Oh, she's loving the West Coast life, man.' He looked Mac up and down with a wry little expression. 'She's been working on her tan, unlike you.'
Mac shook his head, before the darkness of the whole situation caught up with both of them as they approached the barricaded-off area, Charlie flashing his FBI ID to get them through.
'We have to get him this time.'
Charlie looked over at him with a bit of concern, but his eyes mirrored that grim determination and cold, hardened anger that Mac's held just the same. He nodded.
'SOB's not getting away again, Mac.'
As he spoke, Charlie crouched down to examine the scorched ground more closely, while Mac stepped carefully over to the other side, and started doing what he'd been trained to do.
Mac carefully picked up the half-burnt postcard with the tweezers from his Swiss Army knife.
What was a postcard depicting the Venice Beach Boardwalk doing on a busy, but admittedly not really touristy, street outside of some condos in Koreatown?
He turned the postcard over, to find an address, singed and partially burnt off, but still legible.
Well, not so much an address, but a set of coordinates.
Coordinates that he knew very, very well, that were seared into his memory forever.
Coordinates for a specific building in Kunduz, Afghanistan.
The postcard had been perfectly placed, just at the right spot, so that it'd be caught in the blast zone, but not absolutely destroyed.
Only an expert, a bombmaker or an EOD, could pull off something like that.
Mac swore, causing Charlie to look up at him, and wordlessly, Mac showed the other EOD tech the postcard.
Charlie glanced over at him a moment later, and Mac just nodded.
'It's him, and we've got to get to the Venice Beach Boardwalk.'
Charlie just nodded, swallowing, and silently, he and Mac jogged back over to the car that Mac had taken from the Phoenix motor pool, Mac tossing Charlie the keys.
That was as close as he was going to get to admitting that he was in no fit state to drive.
They both knew that there was a bomb on the Venice Beach Boardwalk, courtesy of The Ghost.
We also both know that this is a taunt and likely a trap.
But we have a job to do, and we're going to do it.
VENICE BEACH BOARDWALK
LA
The second bomb was much, much simpler.
No bomb-within-a-bomb, no tricks.
Well-built, pure PETN again, but nothing special.
Mac and Charlie had disarmed it without too much trouble, something that was giving them both a strong sense of unease.
Whatever this was…this was not his endgame.
Charlie was currently speaking with LAPD, while Mac searched the area for something out of place.
They were both completely certain that The Ghost was toying with them, playing a twisted game.
They knew he'd have left another message for them, another twisted calling card, another taunt.
I chased this man through Afghanistan for two years.
He earned his name.
But I'm going to catch him.
I will.
I'll chase him the rest of my life if that's what it takes.
Crouched beside a garbage bin, Mac picked up a discarded movie ticket for a screening of Top Gun at the Egyptian Theatre.
At first glance, it was just a piece of litter…but looking closer, he found that the date on the ticket did not make any sense at all.
The ticket looked new, recently printed.
But it was dated about six and a half years ago.
Printed on the ticket was a very, very specific date.
Pushing away the feelings that had been running amok through him ever since Thornton had spoken those fateful words that morning (he had to focus), Mac stood, and pulled out his phone.
'Riley, is the Egyptian Theatre showing Top Gun tonight?'
There was the sound of her nails clacking on her keyboard for a moment.
'Yeah, they are, Mac. Do you need it cancelled?'
He motioned discreetly to Charlie, who had glanced over at him when he'd started talking to Riley, and the other EOD started to disengage himself from his conversation with the two LAPD officers he was talking to.
It was only just before noon.
He and Charlie had plenty of time to find and disarm the bomb, and although he was quite sure that this was definitely not The Ghost's endgame, he also knew that the man was vicious and would, despite the implicit promise-threat he'd just given them to force them to keep playing his twisted game, detonate the bomb he'd put in the Egyptian Theatre early at the slightest provocation. It was better to not poke the bear.
He might just do it anyway, but all they could do to prevent that was get there and disarm the bomb as soon as possible, just like they'd done here at Venice Beach.
'No, Riley. Charlie and I will deal with it.'
'Alright.' She paused for a moment. 'Good luck.'
He gave a very, very wan smile.
'Thanks, Riley.'
He hung up and jogged up to the car, as Charlie did the same, and showed the ticket to the older man.
'Egyptian Theatre.' Charlie put the key in the ignition with a grim nod, knowing how important time was. 'You want the next left, then right at the next set of lights…'
PHOENIX FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS
SOMEWHERE IN LA
Riley and Bozer glanced at one another as they attempted to find the money trail. The current tack being tried by Riley (several other Phoenix analysts were working different angles) was tracking sales of the heart medication Lentonitrat, which was almost pure PETN.
The Ghost, they all knew, worked for money. He didn't have an ideology or an agenda.
Sure, given the nature of the taunts he was leaving Mac and Charlie (they'd found yet another at the Egyptian Theatre), he was definitely trying to get to Mac, definitely targeting him in some way, but they were quite sure that it wasn't because he'd decided to target Mac all on his own.
That didn't fit the profile at all.
However, they had a theory that The Ghost was very choosy about his jobs, being an elite and, unfortunately, surely very wealthy bombmaker. He hadn't operated on US soil until New York, after all, and when he had, it'd been to disrupt UN peace talks. It'd been a big job.
This job had to be viewed as just as big by the man in order for him to take it, so there clearly was something personal in it for the man. Bozer had argued that The Ghost probably viewed Mac as some kind of 'worthy adversary' or a challenge of sorts, something that Riley, Thornton and the Phoenix analysts thought made sense, given that Mac had chased the man through Afghanistan and foiled quite a lot of his plots, including the New York one.
Thus, targeting Mac was something that The Ghost took as significant, as a big job that he wanted to do, but he wouldn't do it all on his own.
Somebody, therefore, was paying him to do this.
Paying him to play this twisted game with Mac.
And, with all that had happened in Tahoe, in Buffalo…the prime suspect was The Organization.
Everyone knew that, but nobody, absolutely nobody, wanted to say it out loud. (They didn't need to, after all.)
They didn't have any proof, but deep in Riley's gut, she just knew that The Organization was involved somehow.
Glancing up at the pacing Jack, and Thornton, who was talking quietly with Andi by the door, Riley knew that they shared the same gut feeling.
Beside her, Bozer just handed her a fresh cup of coffee, his hand clasping hers, seeking and giving comfort all at once.
She smiled wanly at him, and sipped her coffee and squeezed his hand back for a moment, before letting go and focusing back on her work.
LA ZOO
LA
Mac and Charlie both let out a sigh of immense relief as they finished disarming the bomb that had been attached to a lion, looking up at the sky. The sun was getting lower; sunset would be in a little more than an hour.
Each bomb that they'd encountered had gotten progressively harder and harder to disarm, more and more expert.
As if they were being given increasingly difficult challenges, tests, something that they both knew was very, very deliberate.
In this case, even after locating the bomb, they'd had to have an LAPD officer and zookeepers sedate the lion first, before attempting to disarm the most difficult-to-disarm bomb that either of them had encountered for a very, very long time.
They exchanged a glance as Mac pulled a photo of the Gateway Centre off the lion (it'd been taped to the poor animal), which had a short note written on the back: Wish you were here, Al.
Mac resisted the urge to rip up the photo (it was important evidence), and instead handed it to Charlie, who wordlessly placed it into a small plastic evidence bag, then stood and offered Mac, who was lost in memories and thought, a hand and helped him up.
He and Mac jogged back to the car, and although he gave his usual directions, the blonde was clearly lost in thought the whole drive.
He's a ghost in every sense of the word.
Nobody's ever seen him, but he sees everything.
He always manages to disappear.
And he haunts.
That, I've learned empirically.
GATEWAY CENTRE
LA
Mac and Charlie exchanged a glance over the top of the bomb that they'd found attached to a crucial, load-bearing wall in a janitor's closet in the Gateway Centre.
This one had a timer, but no remote detonator.
The timer was ticking down, and this was so complicated...
2:14
2:13
2:12
There isn't enough time.
Mac hurriedly pulled off his jacket and wrapped the bomb carefully and quickly in it. He picked it up gingerly, then glanced at Charlie.
'Stay here!
The other man opened his mouth to protest (they'd already found The Ghost's next clue; it'd been pinned on the janitor's mop), but Mac had already started running, and Charlie had no idea if the blonde had heard him or not.
'Mac!'
GATEWAY PLAZA
LA
Mac ran out into the Plaza, which was mostly empty, save for LAPD officers (once they'd learned that the Plaza was the target, they'd called LAPD to evacuate the area; there were simply so many people that they had to take the risk that The Ghost might detonate the bomb early – Mac didn't think the risk was as big as it seemed; his gut told him that the game wasn't over yet).
0:46
0:45
0:44
He yelled at a nearby officer to give him his bulletproof vest, then ordered the man to run. Mac wrapped the bomb in the vest, then tossed it into the fountain, as close to the centre as he could manage, then turned and ran, holding his leather jacket over his head and diving forwards as he counted down in his head.
He heard the (unfortunately familiar) sound of a blast behind him, and felt the heat and the force of the explosion (an also-unfortunately-familiar sensation).
When it passed, Mac looked up, sore and rather covered in soot, but alive, thanks to the water dampening the explosion.
He glanced over at the fountain behind him.
Well, Thornton's not going to be happy about the clean-up bill on this one…
He looked over towards the Gateway Centre. About three-quarters of the way between him and the Centre, closer to him, stood Charlie, breathing hard and shaking his head, a look in his eyes that reminded Mac of when he'd been not even twenty and in Afghanistan.
A look that Charlie had given him more than once or twice during a very dark period of his life.
Internally, he sighed.
CAR
ON-ROUTE TO LA AIR FORCE BASE
(THE GHOST'S NEXT TARGET)
LA
'Don't you dare do that again, MacGyver.' There was worry in Charlie's voice, and a hint of disappointment and tightly-restrained anger. The older man glanced over at Mac as he drove, his eyes matching his voice. 'We do our job together, you and me, just like we always did.' Mac opened his mouth to say something, to protest, because as they all knew, The Organization was the number one suspect ultimately behind this cruel, twisted game, and they all knew that they had something planned, and that he was at the core of that, but Charlie cut him off. 'We do this together, man, no matter if he was sent after you or not. We both signed up for this, we both trained for this.' Charlie's voice softened a little, and simultaneously grew more concerned, growing remarkably similar to the voice he'd talked to Mac with some particularly dark nights in Afghanistan about six years ago. 'You've got a lot to live for, Mac.'
Mac, who was fiddling with a paperclip as he stared out the window, turned and made eye contact with Charlie briefly, as the older man glanced over at him, then back at the road.
'It's not that, Charlie. I promise.' Charlie glanced back over at him, and seemed satisfied by the genuine honesty in Mac's eyes and voice, because he just nodded and turned back to the road, as Mac continued, the paperclip becoming a circle in his hands. 'And you do too.'
Charlie nodded slowly.
'Yeah, I do, Mac.' He paused for a moment. 'I got a ring hidden in my ugliest socks in the back of my sock drawer.' Charlie turned to the blonde, who was about to say something, and cut him off. 'But that doesn't mean you should stop me from doing my job, Mac, just like I shouldn't, and won't, stop you from doing yours.'
Mac stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. Charlie nodded too, a small, wan smile appearing on his face, then disappearing as he focused back on the road.
Mac returned to staring out the window.
I will always, always do everything I can to defend my loved ones.
Of course, the best way to do that is to prevent danger from finding them in the first place…but with our line of work, that honestly doesn't happen all that often.
But maybe Plan B isn't sending them away from danger or luring danger away from them, but making sure you defend them with everything you've got while they're beside you.
After all, your loved ones are trying to defend you too.
SERVICE CORRIDOR OFF MESS
LA AIR FORCE BASE
LA
As Charlie and the three EODs stationed at the base who were accompanying them stared at the very, very complicated and very, very powerful PETN bomb in front of them, Mac's attention was instead drawn by the condolence card proclaiming sorry for your loss taped to the wall several feet away.
After checking that the card was not booby-trapped, he reached out and plucked it from the wall, a horrible, horrible feeling growing in his gut, and opened it.
What he saw inside chilled him to the bone and made his blood boil all at once.
'Charlie.' The FBI agent looked over at him, and Mac held out the card, showing Charlie Pena's wife and daughter's address neatly printed inside. 'That's Al's house.'
Charlie's eyes closed for just a moment, then he and Mac both glanced at the bomb, then at each other, then at the other three EOD techs.
The oldest and most senior of the three just nodded at them, a look in his eyes that showed he very clearly understood what they felt.
'Go. We can handle this.'
With one last glance at the bomb, Mac and Charlie ran.
PENA RESIDENCE
LA
There was a van parked in front of the Pena house when Mac and Charlie turned the corner.
As their car skidded to a halt two houses down, before they could even get out, the van exploded, lighting up the night, destroying the Penas' front yard and most of the road, and sending debris everywhere, including many large chunks of concrete and brick and asphalt through the windows.
Both breathing hard and in shock, Mac and Charlie glanced at one another, then without another word, rushed out of the car.
He's used more than one bomb before…
Mac glanced at the house, noting that the windows were dark and it seemed like nobody was home.
Please let them not be home, please…
As that thought ran through his head, another car pulled up, and he instantly recognized Mrs Pena and Annabelle, who was wearing a Chuck E. Cheese cardboard hat.
He let out a sigh of relief internally, the tense knot that had been growing inside him all day loosening ever-so-slightly.
He motioned to the woman to stay put in her car, and Mrs Pena nodded, turning to Annabelle to offer the little girl a mother's comfort, as Charlie told some shocked neighbours who were poking their heads out of their front doors to stay put and stay down.
As sirens started to wail in the distance, Mac and Charlie exchanged a glance and got to work clearing the area.
PHOENIX FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS
SOMEWHERE IN LA
'…Arrogant SOB got himself in the end.'
Mac glanced at Charlie, who was sitting in one of the war room armchairs, then at the others; Matty on the screen, Thornton standing by it, Jack sitting in the other armchair, and Bozer and Riley on the couch.
The last bomb that had gone off in The Ghost's van was a TATP bomb. It was also immensely, immensely complicated and designed to be detonated with a pressure plate.
(The Ghost, as had become very clear, had a very perverse and twisted sense of humour.)
His intent, according to the computer hard drive that had been painstakingly reconstructed and analysed by Riley, Lil and some of the Phoenix techs, had been to set it up in the Pena house while Mrs Pena and Annabelle were out at their monthly Saturday night Chuck E. Cheese dinner.
Then, they'd step inside the house, onto a pressure plate…and Mac and Charlie would have been powerless to do anything.
They wouldn't have been able to get to it, not with the pressure plate trigger, and it'd have been far, far too complicated for them to analyse from afar and direct Mrs Pena to disarm.
They'd have had no choice but to watch and…
Mac pushed the thought away before his brain could finish it.
However, The Ghost had not managed to pull off his plan, pull off his intended endgame, as the plans found on his laptop confirmed the bomb at the Pena house was, just as Mac had suspected as soon as he'd pulled that card off the wall.
TATP was nicknamed Mother of Satan.
Mother of Satan lived up to its name, because it had gone off unexpectedly inside the van, killing the bombmaker.
Human remains, matching The Ghost's description in terms of sex and profiled age and ethnic background, had been found in the van.
All signs pointed to, as Charlie had said, The Ghost's arrogance catching up with him, and Mother of Satan living up to its reputation and (rather poetically) killing the master bombmaker.
Still, Mac was hesitant to allow himself to believe that The Ghost was really gone.
Particularly since the hard drive had also revealed that, as they'd suspected, The Ghost had been hired by The Organization.
Nothing was ever simple, nothing was ever as it seemed when The Organization was involved.
He ran a hand through his hair as he paced.
'Why would he change to TATP? There was no need for him to do that; it'd have been completely sufficient to-'
'Arrogance, Mac. He was a sick show-off, you know that.'
Charlie's voice was certain, and Matty, Thornton, Jack and Riley all nodded, but Mac still wasn't convinced.
'He's done this exact same thing before-'
Riley interrupted him.
'Last time, that explosion at the warehouse wasn't his endgame, Mac. Faking his death was part of his plan to get to his endgame. This time…the Penas were clearly, definitely his endgame. He doesn't have another move up his sleeve.'
'He's finally gone, bro.'
Bozer's voice was comforting (that particular tone had always been a comfort to Mac, for reasons he wasn't quite sure of), but it still wasn't enough to settle him, not completely.
Instead, the blonde just sighed and stopped pacing. The moment he stopped walking, Thornton continued their debrief, as if sensing that he needed a distraction.
This isn't one of the rare occasions in which she's wrong.
As he listened, a paperclip started changing shape in his hands.
After debrief, Jack walked up to him, and put a hand on his shoulder, looking into his eyes, his own eyes very, very serious.
'Brother, he's gone.' Mac opened his mouth to protest, but Jack cut him off. 'And even if he ain't, chasing ghosts doesn't do you or anybody else any good.'
Mac stared at him for a long, long moment, and Jack stared right back, the two of them standing eye to eye in the middle of the war room, before Mac nodded slowly.
'I'll try to let it go, I promise.' Jack nodded with a wan smile, squeezing Mac's shoulder gently, and a wry look appeared on the younger man's face. 'And you know I hate your puns.'
Jack looked rather confused for a moment, before he caught on and made a face at Mac, removing his hand from the blonde's shoulder and crossing his arms.
'Hey, that was a good one! I spent half of debrief thinking it up!'
Mac shook his head with a smile, letting himself get lost in their familiar, comforting banter.
'Well, if it took you half of debrief to think that up…I think your pun skills need serious work, Jack.'
Jack huffed out a breath.
'You just don't appreciate fine wordplay when you hear it, brother.'
Mac snorted.
'Keep telling yourself that.'
'Oh, I will!'
PHOENIX SAFEHOUSE
SOMEWHERE IN LA
Mac nodded at Agent Gonzales as he made his way into the safehouse, where Mrs Pena and Annabelle were staying while their house was repaired and while Matty's team made sure that their safety was no longer directly threatened (they'd have a protection detail on them for an indefinite period of time, even after they moved back home, something that Mac was very grateful to both his current boss and former boss for).
Mrs Pena was standing at the end of the corridor, and Mac swallowed as he approached the woman.
They stood there, staring at each other in silence, a little awkwardly, for a long moment, then both spoke simultaneously.
'I'm sorry, Mrs Pena.'
'Thank you.'
There was another silence, then Mrs Pena reached out and hugged him, a gesture that Mac, slightly hesitantly, and, he was sure, rather awkwardly, returned.
They broke apart, and stared at each other again, this time comfortably, a silent conversation, an understanding, passing between them.
When the moment passed, Mrs Pena gave him a small smile, shaking her head affectionately.
'How many times do I have to tell you to call me Rachel, Mac?'
He smiled back, giving an awkward, sheepish little half-shrug.
'Sorry, Mrs Pena…uh, sorry, Rachel.'
Her smile widened a little, as she shook her head again and started leading him into the kitchen.
'Annabelle wouldn't stop talking about you last time, you know…'
A little later, Mac watched little Annabelle (who insisted she wasn't little anymore) play with the pink slime he'd made her in the safehouse's little kitchen, a small, soft smile on his face, with a tinge of sadness to it.
I'm not convinced that he's really gone.
I know, I know, I promised Jack I'd try and let it go. I meant it and I'll keep that promise.
I'm willing to accept that The Ghost is dead until I get evidence to the contrary.
It's going to irk me and keep me up at night, just like The Organization's big plan, the game they're playing, does, but I'm going to let it go for now.
He glanced up at Mrs Pena, who smiled at him, then over at Annabelle, who grinned, her hands coated with pink slime.
They're safe for another day.
There's always going to be another threat. Even if The Ghost is really gone, even when we finally take down The Organization for good…there's still always going to be others to take their place.
I'm always going to have to defend my loved ones, but they're safe for another day, and that's just going to have to be enough for today.
THORNTON'S RESIDENCE
SOMEWHERE IN LA
Jack walked up to the door and rang the doorbell, his face set into determined lines. He was a man on a mission, and nothing was going to stop him.
A moment later, the door opened, to reveal Thornton, dressed in a smart, long-sleeved, cream-and-black striped tunic over black yoga pants.
Jack supposed this was as casual as she ever got.
'Jack.' She opened the door a little wider, and motioned to him to come inside, which he did. 'What brings you here?'
Standing just inside her door, in the entrance hall, Jack crossed his arms and snorted.
'You know why I'm here, Patty.' She simply nodded in acquiescence, and he continued. 'New Doc.' He handed her the file he'd had in his hands, the one she'd given him, and answered her unspoken question, the question he could see in her eyes, the slight arch of her eyebrow. 'I didn't read it.' She didn't look surprised. 'Didn't need to.' He uncrossed and crossed his arms again, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. 'Come on, Patty. IQ almost as high as Mac's, his age, pretty, served 9 months with MSF.' He paused for a moment. 'And got plenty of spunk, too; she got through interrogation with you and Matty the Hun, after all.' He pinned her with the best approximation of her deadly stare that he could manage. 'And we all know that Mac's got a type. Intelligent, beautiful, plenty of sass…you could've picked New Doc out of a Mac-Attractor Catalogue.' Thornton simply arched an eyebrow elegantly at him at that last phrase, and Jack shook his head and waved a hand, brushing it off as relatively unimportant and pushing onwards with his point. 'He's gonna be attracted to her, and you know all about his issues, Patty.'
It had become abundantly obvious that Mac had issues with women that he found attractive. Sure, he was working through them, but it hadn't even been a year since Tahoe. It was still a process.
There was silence for a moment, two pairs of brown eyes, one noticeably darker than the other, staring at each other, neither flinching nor blinking, before Thornton spoke, softer and gentler than Jack had expected.
'You thought Mac might develop an interest in Riley when she started working for the Phoenix.' Jack couldn't deny that, as wrong as he'd clearly been. 'These things aren't certain or predictable in any way, shape or form, Jack.' There was a firmness, a resoluteness, a certainty in her tone and her expression. 'And you know how much progress he's making and continues to make, Jack.' Jack nodded, a little reluctantly, something that he mentally kicked himself for (he should be proud of and always acknowledging Mac's progress, as any supportive friend would) and attributed to the protectiveness he'd felt for the younger man ever since they'd met in an Afghani desert. Thornton's expression softened and grew more open, becoming as honest and vulnerable as Jack thought she could ever be. 'You know how difficult this search has been.' He nodded; he was very aware of how long it'd taken and how many criteria had had to be fulfilled and how much vetting had had to be done. He also knew how very badly Dr Farnham wanted to start his retirement, and couldn't begrudge the older man for that one bit. 'I…I considered trying to find someone else.' Jack looked at her with no small amount of shock. It was so very unlike her to admit to or acknowledge being even the slightest bit unprofessional and bending the rules. In response, a hint of a wry little smile fluttered across her face, before her expression grew more serious again, though her voice was soft and as affectionate as he ever heard it when she spoke. 'Mac…Mac's a friend. He…he matters.' She looked up at him, her voice growing a little firmer. 'But so do all my other employees, and I have to look out for them too. We need a new doctor, Jack, and Doc deserves his retirement as soon as possible, and she was the best fit for the job that we could find.'
Jack nodded slowly, accepting that she'd done what she had to do. He couldn't begrudge her for that, really couldn't, because he'd just done exactly what he thought he had to do as well. He hesitated for a moment, part of him thinking that he should probably apologize to her (he recognized that he was being rather unreasonable – implicitly opposing the hiring of New Doc just because she happened to be young and really smart and pretty and female and confronting his boss for doing her job), but the rest of him was staunchly refusing to apologize for doing what he firmly, firmly believed was right and had to be done. Firmly and staunchly refused to apologize for looking out for his partner.
Patricia solved his dilemma for him.
She did seem to have a knack for making problems go away.
'You don't need to apologize for having your partner's back. I'd do the same.'
The implied if I still had a partner (her long-deceased fiancé had been hers) hung in the air between them.
They stared at each other for a long moment, then, pulled by some kind of compulsion, Jack reached out and clasped her shoulder for a moment. She gave him a small smile, driven by that same compulsion, then stepped away and gestured down the corridor.
'You haven't had dinner, I assume?' It was more of a statement than a question, and Jack's stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly. Patricia's smile widened a little in amusement, as they entered an eat-in kitchen. Jack raised an eyebrow as he noted that the table was set for two, and that the casserole dish that she was pulling out of the oven, which contained something that smelt really good, held the perfect amount of food for the two of them.
He turned to face her, eyebrow still raised and expression somewhat incredulous.
This woman always, somehow, managed to surprise him. Just when he thought that nothing she did could surprise him anymore, she'd pull out something else, it seemed.
'Patty…'
He simply got an enigmatic little smile in return.
AN: What did you guys think? What're your thoughts on Jack and Thornton's behaviour in this chapter, or Charlie's 'guest-starring role' or the Phoenix's New Doc, whom you'll get to properly meet next episode? Let me know, please!
According to one of my city's major newspapers, in late June, a man in Poland made a self-driving potato, by harnessing the electrochemical energy in a potato and adding wheels etc. Thus, Mac's remote-controlled potato in this episode.
I also firmly maintain that Mac very much has a type. The beautiful and intelligent thing, he has admitted himself, but quite literally every single love interest he's had in the show to date (in that, I count Nikki, Penny, Katarina, Cindy and Frankie) sasses him or bosses him around or in general, is not awe-struck by him at all.
In terms of the major event of this episode: Is The Ghost really dead? Is he going to be back? Has Mac's rogues' gallery really shrunk? I'm not telling!
Rachel is the name for Pena's wife that I invented and used in Just Another Patriotic Guy.
I have only two episodes left to write (I'm halfway through Episode 21 right now), but I go back to uni on Monday. I should manage to get these two episodes done within the month anyway, and once they're done, I might go to bi-weekly updates, I haven't decided yet.
Next episode: 2.11, Ski Jacket. It's Mac's twenty-sixth birthday! Last birthday, he wound up in Hawaii. This year, he's off to Alaska on a simple mission to rescue a stranded Russian submarine. Of course, nothing in his life is ever simple…