Wunderkind

by The Thistle Girl

Jack Dalton's DXS team's last mission left his computer-genius partner Riley Davis with a bullet wound, their analyst Nick Carpenter dead, and a canister of a deadly virus in the wind. Their only chance may be a young former vigilante currently serving time for domestic terrorism, known to the criminal underground as "the Phoenix", and to law enforcement as "Angus MacGyver".

10. Pliers

MISSION CITY, CALIFORNIA

MARCH 15, 2003

The football field has a massive hole in the fence right next to the bleachers. Angus knows about it because he's heard high schoolers brag about being able to sneak in there on late nights and "get some action" with their girlfriends. Dad won't tell him what that means when he asks. He doesn't know Angus already knows; it's just something you're supposed to ask your parents anyway. He's nine, almost ten, not stupid. Even if Dad thinks so.

And knowing about the hole in the fence works out perfectly for Angus's plan. He needs a big enough space to test his science fair project, because if it's good Mr. Ericson promises he'll work on getting Mac an entry in the California Science and Engineering Fair. Angus has read about it, that's for the best of the best.

If I make it into that, Dad might be really proud of me. He likes when Angus gets As in his classes, and when he does extra credit work and the teachers write nice letters or say good things at parent teacher conferences. Dad doesn't like it when Angus doesn't do so well in his classes, when he gets distracted or doesn't pay attention well enough. He doesn't like hearing about trouble, and he got really mad about the time Angus got the entire school evacuated when he mixed some of the chemicals from the maintenance closet.

I didn't make anything really dangerous. But there was a test in English and Mrs. Raffton always made them hard and I hadn't finished The Giver yet. He'd been working late on Mr. Ericson's class's robotics project, because if they could just get their robot's arms to work properly they might stand a chance of winning the state division competition. He'd much rather spend his time working on physics or engineering or chemistry than English. Math and science make sense. If you do things right, you always get the same results. You can make something good every time.

English isn't like that. Angus can't figure out a formula for what makes a "good" story, a "classic" book. He can memorize the "elements of a story" that are written on a big poster on the wall behind Mike Leland's desk, but they aren't like the periodic table of the elements, where when you combine certain ones you always get the same result. One story that put "foreshadowing" and "irony" together was a good story and got an A. Another one that did the same thing was a C-. It doesn't make sense. He doesn't know why the five paragraph essay is supposed to work, or how to find a "theme". Sometimes the books are interesting, but he doesn't want to read them and then have to write papers about them and try to tear them all apart. Can't stories just be to enjoy? Not dissect like the frogs in biology?

The other kids in class were all just as happy as Angus to not have to take the test. But none of the teachers were happy. They blamed Mr. Hobson, the nice maintenance man, for doing something wrong. And Angus couldn't let them do that. He couldn't let Mr. Hobson, who always talked to him in the hallways, and sang opera songs while he fixed the hall lights, and let Angus help use the electric stud finder, and congratulated him for fixing the drinking fountain with a gum wrapper and some rubber bands, get fired for something Angus did. Mr. Hobson was nice and funny and Angus didn't want them to try and find someone new, because what if the new maintenance man wasn't nice and didn't like when Angus asked him questions about how things worked, and didn't let him come sit in the bus garage when he was running from Donnie Sandoz? Even Donnie is scared of Mr. Hobson. He's not really scary, but he's so big and tall. If he's gone, who's going to help me? So Angus told the truth, for once.

So he got in trouble again. Dad had to come, and they had to talk to the principal, and the whole way home Dad yelled at him for making a problem. Now he's not really talking to Angus again, and Angus spends as much time as he can in Mr. Ericson's lab. Which is when they started talking about the science fair. Mr. Ericson says he's sure Angus can at least place, maybe even win his division. If I did, Dad would be happy. When he said that to Mr. Ericson, though, the man just sat him down in a chair and said, "If you spend your whole life trying to make that man happy, you're going to waste the amazing talent you have. If you do this, do it because it makes you happy. Because you want to do it."

But Mr. Ericson's wrong about that. He's a good teacher, and he's nice, but he was wrong then. Angus isn't supposed to do what makes him happy. That's selfish and wrong. Dad says so. And he's Dad, so he has to be right. Angus is supposed to do things that make other people's lives better. "It doesn't matter if you're happy or not," Dad always says. "It only matters if you did your job well. And eventually, knowing you did your job well will be enough to make you happy."

Angus thinks he might be able to do both with this project. He's been excited about trying this for weeks. The little device in his backpack is perfectly safe, Mr. Ericson helped him check it over. It's just going to make a very small reaction, nothing dangerous. But Mr. Ericson said Angus should probably stay a good distance away just to be safe.

He runs out to the middle of the field and sets down the box, flicking the switch on the side. If everything goes right, it should produce enough energy to power the lightbulb on top. He crouches under the bleachers in amongst the discarded cigarette butts and squashed concession stand cups and spilled popcorn, watching.

There's a whirring noise, and the box starts glowing. It's not supposed to do that. And then there's a massive bang, and Angus curls up, shaking, as dirt and debris spray onto the metal above him. There's a rippling shockwave of energy, and then he smells smoke. He scrambles to his feet, dodging the bleachers' supports, running for the fence. He makes it out of the hole in the fence, but there are already lights coming and he can hear sirens. So he runs, heading straight for the woods behind the school. It's dark and scary in there, but he doesn't want to get caught. He wonders what would happen if he was. Will the police arrest me? I wasn't supposed to be there. And I probably ruined the whole field. He wonders vaguely if that makes him liable for arson, or destruction of public property. He heard what happened when they caught the kids who were setting barns on fire. He doesn't want to get locked up.

He doesn't notice until it's much too late that he forgot his backpack under the bleachers. And when the police show up at the house, the look on Dad's face says everything Angus needs to hear. I tried to make things better, and I only messed everything up more. Maybe I should just stop trying.

...

LOS ANGELES, PRESENT DAY

6 DAYS AND COUNTING SINCE THE LAST EXPLOSION MAC WAS DIRECTLY RESPONSIBLE FOR

Bozer shuffles out to the mailbox, tugging his hat on a little tighter. There's actually a bite in the air today. It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas...And this year, for the first time in a long time, it really actually does.

When he got back from Deja's, Mac was so much better than when he'd left (aside from a nasty cold that was borderline pneumonia, which Mac's still trying to shake the last of). He knows Mac was staying with the lawyer, Mr. Preston (who for some reason insists on being called Jack) and it seems to have helped. Bozer wonders, a little selfishly, why Jack helped when he couldn't. I've been Mac's best friend for years. What was I doing wrong?

He can't shake the little voice in his heart that says that what's wrong was that Mac is trying to protect him. He knows that's how it always was when Mac was still a vigilante. He thinks I'm the one who's still naive. That somehow not telling me anything, keeping his pain to himself, keeps me from being hurt. He's almost insulted that Mac even entertains the thought that Bozer doesn't know what happened to him. Maybe he was more comfortable telling Jack because Jack is a stranger. Because Mac doesn't feel any obligation to protect the man from the harsher side of life.

Mac, I'm not seventeen anymore. I know how the world works. I know what happens to people like you in places like that. Bozer just wants Mac to treat him like the man he is now. I can handle whatever you throw at me.

But he's not going to push. Nothing will shut Mac down faster than trying to force him to open up. For now, he's just glad to have Mac back in the house, to see the few half-smiles that are starting to break through, to know that his best friend isn't locked up with monsters anymore. They have all the time in the world to work on everything else.

The mailbox is stuffed chock-full of catalogs, like it always is this time of year. Bozer flips through them lazily on his way to the house. Most of them are headed straight for the recycling bin, aside from one that has some science and mechanics related stuff Mac might like. It's almost odd to be thinking of actually getting a gift for him this year. The first Christmas Mac was in CCI, Bozer went to visit him. He had gone a lot, the first few months, but after a while he noticed Mac didn't seem to want to talk to him. He'd started acting frightened and evasive and he seemed happy when Boze finally ended their calls, or when the guards told them their time was up.

So it had been a while before Bozer went to see him at Christmas. And he's never going to forget that visit. Mac had come in hunched over, limping, moving stiffly like the time he fell off his bike trying out some jump ramp he and Boze built in the backyard. His face was bruised, and there were fading reddish handprint shaped marks on his neck. Bozer had almost been sick at the sight.

At first he thought desperately that maybe it was just a fight. But he'd seen Mac come back beat to hell from fights before, and there was never that haunted look in his eyes. Boze had barely been able to whisper, "Hey Mac, I just wanted to come see you." The words "Merry Christmas" wouldn't come out of his mouth, because they would mean absolutely nothing. Mac was the furthest thing from happy that Bozer could imagine. He'd gotten up and left in a hurry, and he's still ashamed to say that's the last time he went. But it was clear Mac didn't want to see him either. He didn't want me to know.

He thought about visiting last year, but he wasn't sure he'd want to see what Mac had ended up becoming. He wasn't dead, at least, whether by his own hand or someone else's, but that didn't mean his life wasn't an absolute hell. In the end, Boze finally got up the guts to at least call and ask if he could see Mac. He got the reply that Mac was in solitary and wasn't going to be allowed visitors. I'm still ashamed that that made me feel relieved.

Every time Mac tries to ask what Bozer wants for Christmas, Boze brushes his roommate's questions away with one answer. "You're back safe, that's all I could ever ask for." He failed Mac once, let him slip away. Now that his best friend is back, he's not going to let that happen again.

The magazines were all folded around a small stack of Christmas cards. Boze grins when he sees Uncle Mick from Baton Rouge's handwriting. Uncle Mick never fails to send the best punny cards. Boze rips this one open right there in the driveway; he can almost hear the massive guffaw Uncle Mick must have let loose when he picked up the card saying "I thought they said pick up a missile toad... hope your Christmas is a blast," accompanied by a picture of a toad strapped to a small rocket. There's another one from Miss Owens, his third-grade teacher, and the one Deja sent him (that he literally watched her pick out from a box of the ones still left over from Mom's stuff).

Boze knows already that there won't be any for Mac. Mac doesn't have any real family, and most everyone else he knew cut ties with him after he moved to LA, or after he got arrested. Boze figures most people probably don't even know he's back out.

Mac doesn't really get 'normal' mail at all. So when Bozer sees the card with small, neat handwriting addressed to "Angus MacGyver" he nearly drops it. He quickly checks the postmark, it's from Mission City. Mac's old hometown. Boze is absolutely dying to know who this "Arthur Ericson" is. It sort of rings a bell, but Mac didn't talk much about his past, not even when he first came to LA, and besides, those years are all a hazy blur in Bozer's mind. He wishes Mac was home, not pulling yet another all nighter at the Phoenix. I'm glad he's feeling better, but he doesn't need to burn himself out. He probably feels guilty for taking so much time off and is trying to make up for it now. Boze can only shake his head at Mac's sheer stubbornness.

When Mac gets home, Bozer sets the letter at his seat along with a plate of lasagna. "Mac, you got mail today." Mac glances from Bozer to the name on the return label, and Boze is pretty certain his roommate might start crying.

"Mac? Who is that?"

…

Mac hasn't thought about his sixth grade science teacher in years. The last time he remembers doing that was when he got arrested. I knew somehow the story was going to make it home to Mission City and he was going to be so disappointed in me. Mr. Ericson had always thought Mac had the potential to do amazing things. And all he ended up as a was a car mechanic by day and a vigilante by night. A far cry from the student Arthur Ericson had praised and insisted was going to be the next Henry Ford or Thomas Edison.

He almost doesn't want to open the letter. No matter what, I don't know if I can take what's inside. He doesn't know if he'd rather hear disappointment bleeding through the words, or see only that still-determined optimism. Maybe I did have potential. But I threw it away a long time ago. No matter what, I'm never going to get it back.

He pulls out his knife and shakily opens the letter.

Angus, I know it's been a while and I haven't written as often as I should have. I sort of lost track of you after your grandfather passed away. Hopefully this letter gets to you.

I don't know if you even still remember a silly old man with the toupee that got caught in the bunsen burner (I've parted with that and my vanity since, oh, almost ten years ago now). But I thought I'd ask you if you wanted to come see me and the school one more time. I'm retiring, and there's going to be a reunion of sorts for my old classes. I was hoping you'd come.

I understand if there are still too many hard memories in Mission City. But if the old place still means anything to you, I'd like to see you again. I want you to know, Angus, that no matter what, I will always consider you like a son to me. Nothing you have done and nothing anyone says about you will change that.

Mac can't read any further. There are still two more paragraphs, but the words are blurring and his eyes are burning. He sets down the paper and wipes frantically at his eyes. Don't cry. Don't cry.

Apparently Mr. Ericson's chosen to retire mid-year. Mac wonders if the man's health is deteriorating. He'd already had heart issues when Mac was a student, as a matter of fact he'd take out the little bottle of nitroglycerin pills he carried around in his vest pocket and joke with the students that he was the most dangerous thing in the lab, and that he was an undercover spy and if he was caught he was going to have to take those pills so he didn't talk. Half the class had thought he was actually telling the truth, and Mac remembers sneaking around Mr. Ericson's house with a homemade microphone trying to catch secret conversations.

And now I'm an actual government agent. Mac could laugh at the irony, if he didn't feel so much like crying.

He's not sure he wants to go back, even if he could. He's not allowed to leave LA city limits, so he's not sure why he's even considering the idea. But the truth is, after that letter, he really does want to see Mr. Ericson again. Except that everyone else in Mission City probably thinks I got what I deserved.

"Well? Are you going?" Bozer's voice breaks into his thoughts.

"I-I can't." Mac gestures vaguely to his ankle. "I can't leave town." Technically I could, with Riley's program, but he doesn't know that.

"We could at least ask. I mean, they might encourage contact with an old mentor." Bozer sounds the way he does whenever he overconfidently B. himself through a situation. "That sounds logical, right?"

"Not if they find out he's the one who taught me how to make things that blow up." It's not strictly true, because Mac learned some of that from his dad long before he had Mr. Ericson's classes, but that science project that blew up the football field was a direct result of Mr. Ericson's plan to enter Mac for the science fair.

"It's still worth a shot. Mac, you need a change of scenery. I can't imagine sticking around in this city when some creep wanted you dead." If only you knew I was with Jack in the Los Padres last week. "It still feels weird to be in this house." The charred spots have been repaired, and the furniture has been replaced, but there are still some smoke stains on the ceiling and walls, and the fresh wood around the back window is very evident.

"Okay, we can ask."

"Yeah, that's the spirit! The worst your PO can say is no, right?" Mac smiles just a little at Boze's enthusiasm. He's never been one to be afraid of rejection. Guess that's a good trait in the film business. No matter how many times one of his scripts is thrown out, Boze just bounces back as enthusiastic as ever.

So they get in the car and drive to Penny's office. Mac wouldn't have even entertained the idea if he still had to go to Hammond, but Penny is reasonable. She was always understanding when he had to adjust a meeting time, and she's been nothing but sympathetic and kind since his last stint in prison. She doesn't push, doesn't make him feel uncomfortable. He likes her, as much as you can like someone who's basically holding a sword over your head.

When they get to the office, the place is the usual chaos of enthusiasm Mac's come to associate with Penny Parker. There's tinsel and garlands hanging on every available ledge and cornice, massive paper snowflakes on any windows, a jar of candy canes on the waiting room table, a radio playing a Christmas Classics station in the corner, and a scraggy looking real pine tree covered in cracked glass bulbs and glittery fake icicles. It might be a little tacky, but it looks happy. And it suits Penny's way of seeing the world perfectly. Mac's pretty sure she sees the potential in everything, whether it's pitiful Charlie Brown trees or damaged ex-cons.

"See look, she's even got a Christmas tree up. She's probably in the giving spirit," Boze says, grinning. They climb the stairs, ducking under some tinsel that's slowly detaching from the wall, and knock on Penny's door.

She answers, looking half-buried in a large chunky-knitted sweater with a bunch of penguins in Santa hats appliqued on the front. Mac would have expected nothing less, with Penny's quirky fashion sense. I bet she loves being able to wear "ugly" sweaters. She probably wouldn't call them ugly either.

"Well, to what do I owe the pleasure?" She clears a stack of papers off one chair, and a box of small ornaments off the other. "Cookie?" She holds out a tin of mangled gingerbread men who look like they ought to be victims at a crime scene. I'm not sure if that's what she was going for… Mac waves off the offer.

"Actually," Bozer cuts in, grabbing two cookies from the tin as it goes past him, "we have a question."

"What about?"

"Special permission for an out-of-city trip," Bozer mumbles around a mouthful of cookie. "And your gingerbread recipe."

Penny laughs instead of frowning, Mac hopes that's a good sign. "What kind of trip?" She's digging through a file folder now, and then pulls out a large stack of paperwork.

"It's for his old science teacher's retirement," Bozer says quickly, and Mac glances at him. "A bunch of nerds getting together and talking about weird sciencey things I don't understand. The guy was his mentor, he meant a lot to Mac."

"I'm technically allowed to make certain exceptions to your parole conditions, and in your case I'm perfectly willing to do it," Penny says. "You'll have to provide all relevant details for the event, where you'll be going, how long you'll be there, expected times of travel. Just to be sure you're not wandering off." Penny grins, sitting on the corner of her desk and biting the already half-severed head off a gingerbread man.

"How do you know one of these days someone isn't going to take advantage of your kindness?" Mac asks. She hasn't been beaten down by the world yet. She hasn't been hurt, betrayed, screwed over by people she thought she could trust.

"I don't. But I will say I don't do this kind of thing for everyone. I've got a way of knowing who I can trust. And I trust you." She smiles, and Mac's a little bit shocked to see that kind of genuine faith in him from someone who isn't Boze or Jack or Riley or Sam. People like her aren't supposed to trust people like me. "Doesn't mean you're just free to go wandering off on your own, though," Penny continues. "I'll agree to an exception, if, and only if, you're supervised for the entire duration of the trip."

"Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on him the whole time," Bozer says confidently.

"I'm afraid that's not going to be good enough. It will need to be someone the court would approve, and I'm afraid your emotional attachment to Mr. MacGyver disqualifies you." She shuffles some papers. "But one of your legal advisors would probably be permitted."

I don't want to put Jack or Riley out, especially not this weekend. They're probably getting ready for the holiday. But just as quickly, he realizes if he doesn't call them, Bozer will. Better me asking than him.

He's still not sure he wants to do this. But he has the feeling Jack would want him to ask. He said whatever I needed, I shouldn't hesitate to call him. So he does. "Jack? Are you free this weekend?"

He's not sure how that conversation ends with Jack telling Riley to find him a rental car and somehow the plan including cramming Mac, Boze, Riley, Sam, and Jack into a minivan. But he's not going to complain. There's no family I'd rather spend time with.

…

Jack seriously regrets renting the minivan. It handles like an overfed steer that drank a bottle of moonshine. Riley won't stop making dad jokes, either. The first thing she said when Jack pulled up to her apartment with the car was, "Who rents a lime green minivan? Jack, you're such a dad." He didn't even argue with her, it's actually true. He feels like a parent trying to keep their kids from making a mess, because there was an absolutely exorbitant damages deposit on this thing and he'd like to return it unscathed.

He's already yelled at Riley for putting her feet up on the back of the passenger seat, Bozer for bringing in coffee in an unsealed mug, and Mac for trying to fix the cantankerous heating system. So far, Sam's been the good child on this road trip, but he's not sure how long that will last. She keeps looking at Bozer with a mischievous smile. Those two have some sort of long running feud over the right way to barbecue, and Jack does not want to be in the middle of it.

He'll admit he's having fun. Almost as much fun as the last road trip to see Metallica, although it's just not Texas and this is a little awkward with Bozer along for the ride. They can't talk shop and laugh about past missions with him in the car. But Jack's got to admit he's interested to see Mac's old hometown.

Even if Mac seems like the least enthusiastic of all of them. He's been staring out the window this whole trip, and Jack will admit the scenery up here in Northern Cali is pretty, but he's worried about Mac. The kid was just starting to come out of his shell again after prison, and now he's clamming up again. He's the only one who didn't protest when Jack immediately turned the radio from Christmas music to classic country, he didn't have any input on where they should stop for lunch, and he hasn't said anything about what memories he has of the town.

Admittedly, Mac did leave Mission City when he was only ten, so maybe he doesn't remember much. Still, Jack has plenty of memories from before he was ten, ones he was more than willing to share while they rumbled along the dusty highway through Texas for the Metallica concert. He'd wanted to take them to see the old homestead in person, but then Patty called with another "fate of the world is on the line" mission, and they'd shipped out to Bosnia straight from the airport in Austin. Jack had told the story of how he rode the cattle dogs like a horse when he was barely old enough to walk, about Cousin Richie hiding him in the hayloft, about the time the cattle got out while Pops was on a supply run and Mama chased them out of the vegetable garden with a rake.

Jack's inclined to think the real reason is that the kid doesn't have very many good memories. But there have to be some, or he wouldn't be going back at all.

"So your favorite teacher, huh?" Jack says, trying to start some sort of conversation.

"He let me stay after class and help him with fixing lab equipment or prepping experiments," Mac whispers. Jack hears what isn't said. He let me get away from my dad. Jack can't imagine what Mac's life must have been like.

I always wanted to put school far behind me every day. But I had the ranch and my family and the animals. I couldn't wait to get home and help Dad with the tractor or ride Duke and check fences. To Jack, having a family you would voluntarily spend more time in what, to Jack's mind, basically amounted to a prison to avoid...well, the only thing he can think is that that's absolutely screwed.

"Sounds like he knew you pretty well," Jack continues. If this were another time I'd have made a joke that the guy should have known better, with Mac's record for 'repurposing' anything he gets his hands on. But the kid looks so sad, Jack can't bring himself to even jokingly criticize him.

"He said I had potential," Mac mutters, pulling a paperclip out of his pocket and twisting it into the shape of a science beaker. "He thought I was going to change the world."

Jack wants to say, you are. Every day you go out there and you make the world a better place. Hell, you make the world a better place just by existing. But he can't say any of this in front of Bozer. Part of Jack wants to say screw the rules and just tell Bozer everything. He kept Mac's secrets for years when he was a vigilante, Jack thinks he could be trusted to do it again now. But Patty's staying firm on that front. Even after their run in with the assassin, "Murdoc" or whatever his name is, Patty still thinks Bozer's safer not knowing the truth.

So Jack settles for just saying, "He wasn't wrong." Mac just shakes his head and goes back to staring out the window.

Jack groans internally when he sees Bozer lean across a now apparently sleeping Cage to talk to Riley. He keeps trying to flirt with her. When is he gonna learn she isn't interested?

"What made you want to tag along on this? Parker said we only had to have one person to supervise."

"You guys are basically family," Riley says, shrugging.

"That's what Sam said, when she came over to see me a while ago. Isn't that, like, not supposed to be how lawyer-client stuff goes?"

"We do things a little differently." Riley shrugs. "Basically, you're right. In our line of work, you're not supposed to get attached. But our boss doesn't really care."

"Is she the scary one? Ms. Baumann?" Bozer asks.

"You still think she's scary?"

"You don't?" Jack stifles a chuckle. Even as her cover persona, Patty brings the Ice Queen vibes.

"I guess I've worked with her long enough to know her." Riley digs through her backpack and pulls out a box of candy. "Raisinet?"

"Oh man, I love these things!" Bozer takes a whole handful.

"Hey, don't get chocolate on the leather!" Jack yells back.

"Leather-ette, Jack," Boze says around a mouthful of chocolate and raisins. "My aunt's cat could do its business all over this seat and it would clean right up."

"First of all, yuck. Second of all, why?" Riley asks, groaning. Kids.

Mission City is one of those blink-and-you-miss-it towns. Jack drives straight through downtown without knowing it. It's only when Mac tells him "You missed the gas station", that Jack blinks and slows down.

"You only have one gas station?"

"There's another one north of town but it's out of our way."

Jack sighs and pulls into a grocery store parking lot to make the turn. He pulls up to one of the pumps and hands Mac his credit card. "Here, fill her up. I've got to go hit the little cowboys' room." He frowns when that doesn't get at least a wry grin out of Mac. He didn't just give the kid his car because Mac was closest to him. If he needs proof I trust him, he's going to get it.

When Jack comes back out, he wonders how everything went to hell in two minutes. Because now there's a police car parked across from the minivan, and the officer seems to be arguing with Mac.

"You've got some nerve showing your face around here again, MacGyver." The officer's voice is a low growl. Mac's backed up against the fuel pump, and he looks scared. Not just nervous, put off by the other man's in your face attitude. He looks terrified. Riley and Bozer and Cage are getting out of the car now, and Riley looks ready to deck the guy with her laptop. That's not gonna make this any better. Jack hurries over before this gets more out of hand.

He can just read the officer's nameplate. D. Sandoz. "Hey, officer, this is my car. Is there a problem?"

"Who the hell are you?" The cop asks.

"Roger Preston."

Sandoz's eyes narrow. "You'd better let me handle this. You're lucky I showed up when I did; that kid's been convicted of terrorism. Looks innocent, but he's not. Did you pick him up hitchhiking?"

"I'm his lawyer." Jack's trying to move in between Mac and Sandoz as calmly as he can. "Since you obviously didn't get the news, he's been released."

"Yeah, well, if you know what's good for you Preston, you'll dump this one. There's no way he's innocent." Sandoz pushes past Jack to glare at Mac. "I knew you were trouble after the football field, ya little pyro." Mac looks distinctly uncomfortable. Football field? Oh yeah, the explosion. Jack remembers it now from Mac's arrest report. "Everyone knew you were going to end up a criminal. You know, no one was surprised when they found out you went to prison for blowing something up and killing a guy." Sandoz shrugs. "We all saw it coming."

Jack glances at Mac. The kid's imploding now, curling in on himself like he's hiding from physical blows.

"What'd they even let you out for?" Sandoz asks.

"Not that it's any of your business, but there's new evidence to prove he is in fact not guilty," Jack snaps. "So why don't you leave him alone?"

Sandoz must see the building murderous rage, because he backs down and goes back to his own car. He looks back once over his shoulder. "You know, we all felt a lot better when we found out someone finally put you where you belonged. Shame they're making the mistake of letting you go."

"Wow, what a jerk," Jack mutters. "Small town cops and their power trips."

"He's been like that since the fourth grade," Mac mutters dully. "I was hoping I wouldn't see him."

Jack knows small towns. His own was always an absolute hotbed of gossip. The only time he was the center of it was when he made out with Minnie Jacobs in a car after prom and got caught by a cop for being illegally parked, but he remembers how it felt to walk into the diner or the hardware store and know the whispers behind his back were about him. When he went off to the Army and Minnie started dating Jesse Cooper, he remembers getting about a dozen letters to the effect that people were worried she was cheating on him behind his back. One kiss, one time, and small towns decide you're gonna get married. They probably had our first three children's names picked out too.

He'll admit, that one was a little bit funny. But he's seen small town rumor destroy people, like the new girl his sophomore year of high school who was quiet and a loner and a bit standoffish. And then someone, everyone knew it was Judith Howell but no one ever punished her, started the rumor that the new girl was a thief, that she was responsible for the things gone missing from lockers that year. She got suspended when teachers found some of the items in her locker. No one believed her when she said she hadn't done it. The worst part is that that's all Jack remembers about her. He can't even recall her name.

"Well, let's get outta here. Go see your old teacher and forget that box of stupid rocks," Jack says, gunning the engine a little too hard. "Okay, Ri, which way to the school?"

No wonder Mac didn't want to come back.

The car is silent aside from Riley giving directions. Mac looks like he's either going to scream or cry if someone so much as glances in his general direction. Cage has her interrogation face on; Jack can't tell what she's thinking but he can bet it isn't good. Bozer's gritting his teeth and Jack's pretty sure Riley wasn't the only one ready to get physically violent. It's a relief when they finally get to the school.

"Thought you were only ten when you moved to L.A.?" Jack says. "This building doesn't have anything lower than sixth grade."

"I skipped second," Mac says sheepishly. "But it didn't really matter because I had to repeat sixth anyway." Jack's having a hard time imagining a smart kid like Mac getting held back. But if that was the year he lost his dad and had to move, I guess I can see it. Mac doesn't have the greatest reactions to trauma. Jack can't imagine the kid version of him was any different. He probably didn't want to ask for help from anyone. Thought every mistake, every failing grade was his own fault. He probably thought he deserved getting stuck back in the same classes. I wish I'd met him so much sooner. Jack wonders how much of the kid's life would be different if someone, at some point, had told him all the shit that happened in his life wasn't his fault.

…

MISSION CITY JUNIOR HIGH

MINUS ONE FOOTBALL FIELD

The retirement party, which they finally tracked to the school gym, gets awkward fast for Riley. She doesn't know anyone and after Mac introduces them all to Mr. Ericson, she leaves Mac with him to start talking science. She grabs a handful of chips from a bowl on a table and leans against a back wall, under a faded banner reading "Mission City Miners". It's not too long before Bozer joins her. Sam is out there being her typical blend-into-any-social-context self; she's probably just considering this practice for field work. But Riley has the feeling Sam's doing a lot more than just polishing her skill set. She's probably trying to find out what people think of Mac.

Riley doesn't think she'd want to do that. She's heard just a few whispers already, and it breaks her heart. It sounds like everyone in town knows about what happened to Mac. And no one seems to care. Two people have asked if she's his girlfriend, and in the same sentence if she knows anything about him, about his past. She's heard even more start whispering as soon as they see him.

"That's Angus MacGyver, isn't it?" "I thought he was still in prison." "He should be." "I can't believe they let him out."

"Hey, Bozer, wanna get some air?" Riley doesn't want to spend another minute in a room with these people. How can they all look at him and just dismiss him like that? How can anyone be that spiteful? Bozer nods, looking as desperate to escape as Riley feels, and they make their way out into the hall, leaning up against the lockers. Riley munches the last of her chips, feeling the salt stinging the cuts in her mouth from where she took a couple punches in Mexico.

They stand there in silence a long time, before Bozer starts to shuffle and sighs. Riley glances at him curiously. "What's going on?"

Bozer looks from the locker to Riley. "I just can't help thinking of what his life must have been like here." He shrugs. "Listening to them...they're probably the same kind of people they were in middle school. Or as parents."

Riley nods. "I don't understand why so many people hate Mac so much. It's not fair."

"The first time I met Mac he was getting his butt kicked and some kids from the football team were shoving him in a locker," Boze mutters. "I bloodied two noses and may have dislocated a shoulder that day."

"You beat up a bunch of football players?"

"I was going through a phase where I was obsessed with Bruce Lee movies. I guess I just decided if I could imagine myself doing it I could do it." He shrugs. "I mean, after that they just ganged up on both of us, but at least Mac wasn't alone."

Riley shivers, thinking of the way Mac was yelled at and hit and brutalized in prison. He's been bullied and treated like he's worthless his whole life. No wonder Mac's so messed up. He never really had enough people to support him. It's not like Riley did either, but when she got out of high school she met Jack, and he was her rock for every part of her adult life. Mac watched his mentor die, and then got tossed in a supermax.

"I didn't know it was that bad," she says softly.

"With a name like Angus? Kid was running for his life most of high school," Bozer mutters. "Being a total nerd didn't really help either. And I can't imagine things were much different from him here."

"He's lucky he had you," Riley says quietly. He's spent most of his life forced to protect himself, look after himself. No wonder he's not that ready to let us help with that.

"No, he's not." Bozer suddenly crumbles, sliding down against the lockers. "Do you know how many kids those dumbass football players beat up?"

Riley shakes her head, this isn't making sense.

"Pretty much everyone in science and chess club, any kids they so much as thought might be gay, the kids they knew would give them anything they asked for to keep from being hit, almost anyone who had the backbone to stand up to them." He slams a fist to the floor. "How many of them did I help? One. How many of them went to prison?" He doesn't have to give her the answer.

"Boze, that wasn't your fault."

"If I hadn't made friends with him, he wouldn't have felt responsible for what happened to Jerry. He wouldn't have become the Phoenix. He wouldn't have gotten arrested."

"Boze, how many bullied kids commit suicide?" Riley asks. She watches a broken look of a whole different kind slide across his face. "Mac could have been one of them, if it wasn't for you. You made sure he knew someone cared. That someone was willing to stand up for him and defend him. You probably saved his life." That's something Riley hasn't been able to shake the thought of. She's seen only a tiny bit of what happened to Mac for two years, and she can't imagine how he lived with that. He's so strong. To be coping with any of it at all. And she's got the distinct feeling that the reason Mac values his life even the sadly small amount that he does, is the person sitting there in the hall.

"He just...he deserved so much better," Bozer says softly.

"We can't give anyone what they deserve," Riley says, sitting down beside him. "We can give them our best. And it has to be good enough."

"But being my friend ruined his life," Boze whispers.

"You have no way of knowing he wouldn't have done the exact same thing anyway. And without a loyal best friend supporting him." Riley says. We all could have done better by him. We all could have tried to help him more, protect him from some of the worst the world threw at him. But we can't go back.

…

Jack immediately likes Arthur Ericson. The man is calm, kind, and genuine, greeting Mac with a massive smile and a firm handshake. "Glad you could make it, Angus," he says cheerfully, and Jack watches the pain and shame from the encounter with Officer Sandoz slide off Mac's face to be replaced with a real smile.

Jack hangs back once Mac and Arthur start talking geek stuff. He's got one ear on the conversation about fluid dynamics, and the other on everything going on around him. After about five minutes he wants to punch three people in the face. Mac's not some monster. Stop talking about him behind his back like he is. They paste on fake smiles if Mac looks their way, but there's a poisonous suspicion running rampant in the room. I was hoping that cop would be the exception rather than the norm.

He's pleasantly surprised when a young woman with curly red hair and a nametag that says Cathy K walks up, introduces herself to Mac, and then pulls an inhaler out of her purse and winks at him. Must be some inside joke. She leads Mac off to go get some food, and Jack's watching them when he feels a hand on his arm.

"I want to thank you," Arthur says when Jack turns and meets the man's earnest eyes. "Angus told me what you've done for him."

"You might want to hold that praise until we actually manage to get his conviction overturned," Jack says, and he knows he sounds bitter but he can't help it, not hearing all of these people talking. He wants to be able to shove Mac's innocence in their smug faces. To grab the mic that's currently being passed around for former students to share memories, and yell that Mac's not the hardened criminal these people treat him as, that he's a good, kind, loving person the world doesn't deserve to have in it.

"It's not just that." Arthur says. "I want to thank you for being the closest thing to a father that boy has now." Jack feels a sudden tightening in his throat, and coughs as subtly as he can. "I watched that kid suffer for years, and I can't tell you how happy I am to see him finally have someone he can depend on." Ouch. If you knew what I let happen to him a month ago… "You're the kind of man Angus deserved to have in his life." And then something from the previous sentence hits. "I watched that kid suffer…"

Jack can't help the barking anger in his voice. "Did his father hit him?" Jack's wondered that often. Mac flinches from touch, but there's no telling if that's a reaction to childhood trauma or to what happened in prison. Jack just assumed it was the latter, especially after Bishop.

Arthur sighs. "I don't know if that man ever hit him. If he did, he was careful not to do anything that would show. But James didn't really strike me as the physical type. He was too smart for that. I think he did all the damage on the inside. 'Cause if you saw the way that kid looked if he got one answer wrong in a whole sheet of questions, or if he couldn't quite figure out what to say when I called on him…"

Jack's not even surprised. Not after what Mac told him about camping trips with his father. James didn't have to hit Mac. Every cruel word would have been like a slap in the face to someone that sensitive. No wonder Mac avoids making anyone upset at him. No wonder he flinches at reprimands. Somehow it's almost sicker than what he knows Riley's dad did to her.

Elwood always acted out of anger. Riley said he hit her when he was drunk, when things went wrong, when he was angry at Diane. According to her, it was almost like the man didn't know what he was doing when he had one of those spells. Not that it was ever any excuse for cruelty, nothing was. But it was the actions of a man who wasn't in control.

Jack's never met James MacGyver. A very large part of him hopes he never will. But he has a cold fury in the pit of his stomach at someone who could sit and calmly shatter the confidence and joy and hope in a child's eyes. Did that bastard even know what he was doing to Mac? Jack's not sure which option is worse. Riley at least understood that her childhood wasn't normal, that what Elwood did wasn't something she deserved. But because James used twisted words instead of closed fists, Mac's learned to believe his lies. To see himself the way James must have seen him; problematic, worthless, inferior.

Jack notices Arthur's still talking. "I had a few kids who stayed late for tutoring. But they were the ones whose parents were drunk, who hit them just for existing. I got the feeling if Angus went home to his dad and told him he had to stay at school for tutoring, that was just going to make his life worse. James was always a perfectionist. I didn't want him to have another reason to criticize his kid, especially if it wasn't even true." Arthur continues. "So I went to the house one day, told James his son was the best student I ever had, and asked if he'd be willing to let Angus help me prep for classes. It killed two birds with one stone, in a manner of speaking. Gave the kid a few more hours in a place where he didn't have to worry about being perfect, and made James a little bit happier with him. I could tell the guy liked having his ego stroked." Arthur frowns. "I'll never know how a man like that ended up with a woman like Ellie. Or a kid like Angus." He sighs. "I wanted to help him. I tried to get him an entry in the state science fair. Have you seen what he can do? He's a genius."

"Yeah, he's showed me a few things." Jack really wishes he wasn't sworn to secrecy about the whole Phoenix thing. He'd love to tell Mr. Ericson about some of the crazy stuff Mac's done.

"You know, in a way, I've always felt guilty for what happened to him," Arthur says, looking wistfully at Mac still talking to "Cathy".

"Why? You were trying to help him."

"The experiment I was helping him work on for that science fair entry accidentally burned down the high school's football stadium. And I've wondered ever since if that wasn't his breaking point. If he started seeing himself as a lost cause and a criminal way back then. If leaving him alone would have been better. Because things got a lot worse after that. Parents complained, some of them even tried to argue he should have been in legal trouble. I heard a few who said they were afraid their kids were going to school with a budding sociopath or something." Jack growls, he thinks he might crumple the cup in his hand. "Everyone had something to say. That he was going to grow up to be nothing but trouble, that he was dangerous, that he ought to be someplace he couldn't hurt anyone."

Jack can't imagine what that would have been like. He was nine years old, for heavens' sake. To have to listen to people say he was going to end up a criminal or a killer, to be stared at any time he went to school or to the grocery store...It's already sickening that Mac has to deal with having a felony conviction on his record for the rest of his life. Jack can't even fathom that the kid's been walking around with people judging him since he was nine years old.

"I think he thought his dad left because of it all." Arthur sighs. "He's lived with the thought that he drove his own father away. Or the miserable excuse he had for one." Mac's starting back toward them now, and it looks like people are consciously avoiding him. He's got his head down, looking at the floor. "I was one of the few people who actually cared that he got arrested, at least the few who were sorry for him." And then Mac is there, and there's no point in talking anymore. He looks sadder than before, if that's possible. This can't be easy. He's seeing former classmates who've been successful, whose lives look perfect. And he's got to stand there knowing he spent the time they were in college as a vigilante and then in a supermax. And Jack thought going to his reunions with the cover of being a bathroom tile salesman felt shameful.

At least I have the satisfaction of knowing all the pitying looks are wrong, that everyone who thinks I threw my life away and I'm a failure is absolutely wrong. And these people are wrong about Mac, but half of it is the truth. He did get arrested. He did spend time in prison. Nothing is going to change that. No release, no overturned conviction. And this time Jack does crush the cup in his hand.

…

Mac's deep in a conversation about one of the chemical engineering projects he's working on at Phoenix in his downtime when Mr. Ericson's phone buzzes. He pulls it out and glances at it, then up at Mac. "If you'll excuse me for a minute, I'm going down to open the lab. One of my students is bringing a project in to do some extra work."

Mac smiles. He remembers when that was him. "Who's your prodigy this year?"

"Valerie Lawson." Mr. Ericson smiles. "She's the brightest in her class. Sucks up anything I throw at her. Physics, chemistry, electrical engineering…" He glances at Mac. "I remember a kid who was just like that."

Mac sighs bitterly. "Yeah, a kid you thought had potential. Looks like you were the only one in town who was wrong about me."

"No, I'm the only one who was right. Didn't you hear yourself five minutes ago? You're saving the world one new water filtration process at a time." Mac hides a bigger grin at the irony of that statement. "No one else thinks like you do. You can figure out solutions no one even anticipated, because you're not afraid to think outside the box. That desalination process will take a third of the time it normally does, and that's all your work." Mr Ericson frowns, just barely, but Mac can see it.

"What's wrong?"

"Valerie's been...distant, lately. She's stopped talking in classes. I'm worried about her."

"Would it be okay if I came and met her?" Mac can't help but feel a jolt of sympathy for anyone who's probably in the same boat as he was. This isn't a great school to be a nerd in. Most of the students here are the rough around the edges types who like making fun of the ones who might actually make something of their lives and leave this town someday. They don't know what to do with someone who isn't like them. Mac knows this is one of those towns people just don't leave. They get hooked into alcohol or drugs or smoking before they even make it to high school sometimes, and often times they're getting married and sometimes having kids before they graduate. Mac knows people think city public schools are a mess, and they are, but small town ones aren't much better. At least when I moved to LA, no one really cared who I was. No one knew.

What he really wants is to get away from the voices muttering and mumbling behind his back. Cathy was nice enough, but even she seems to pity him rather than let go of the past. He doesn't want to be here without Mr. Ericson, he's the only one who's making this bearable. I'm glad I came to see him, but it still hurts a lot.

"Sure thing. The lab's changed a lot since you;ve been in there last, pretty sure you'll appreciate the upgrades. We actually have a properly functioning centrifuge now."

"Not that thing I made out of a cardboard box?" Mac grins. Their ancient centrifuge had broken down the year he started Mr. Ericson's classes. Mac had rigged one up out of rubber bands and a cardboard box. It was the first time he'd made a really good impression on a teacher right away, and it had also inspired what Mr. Ericson used to say about him to anyone who would listen. "This kid doesn't just think outside the box. He uses the box in a whole new way."

Jack follows them. Mac knows it's because he's not supposed to be unsupervised on this trip, but he likes to think it's also because Jack is at least a little bit interested in Mac's life and his past.

When they get to the classroom door, there's already someone there. A slender, almost frail-looking girl with pale blond hair and glasses is holding a cardboard box half as big as she is, with a robotic arm poking over the top.

"Hi Valerie," Mr. Ericson says.

"Who are they?" She asks immediately, looking shyly at her shoes.

"This is one of my old students, the one I was telling you about. Angus MacGyver. And this is his friend Jack." Mac's immediately grateful they don't get into the technicalities of Jack's presence. Although in this town, she probably grew up knowing what I did. He'd bet the football stadium fire story makes the rounds every single year. Just like the fifteen-year-old story of Mark Brown who lost three fingers running a table saw in shop class that had still been circulated as a cautionary tale. I used to have nightmares about that thing after those stories.

Mr Ericson sits down at his desk and Jack takes a chair beside him. Mac follows Valerie to the table where she sets down her project. The room feels a lot smaller than I remember. Mac had always felt like the lab was huge, but now he realizes it's barely bigger than the living room at home. It's an odd feeling coming back after all these years. I guess I thought it would be just the same, like stepping back into the past. Instead there are new posters on the walls, new equipment scattered around, even different desks, because he can't see the one Callum Fine was always carving more and more stupid things into. Or the one that Mac burnt when he got slightly overenthusiastic about one of the experiments.

Valerie takes out her project, then dumps some tools and parts out next to it.

Mac studies the robot arm. "Where'd you get the servos from? A remote control car?"

"Old DVD players," Valerie whispers. "I'm trying to increase the range."

"Have you tried recalibrating?"

"It doesn't make any difference." She shrugs, and Mac recognizes that resigned air bleeding off her. How does someone get that way at eleven years old? Then he wonders if this is what he looked like then. No wonder Mr. Ericson wanted to help me. "There's too much interference; the components aren't sophisticated enough."

"That doesn't matter," Mac mutters. "Not if we can figure out how to adjust them properly." He picks up a screwdriver and a pair of pliers. "I built a…" he trails off, not really sure how he's going to explain having built a remotely detonated bomb out of the same kinds of components she's using. That's not really something I want to encourage. He doesn't want to see another kid end up like him.

"How do you know how to do that?" Valerie asks. "Are you like me?"

"I guess so. Mr. Ericson says you're his best student?"

"I'm good at learning it all. I'm not so good at making it." She shrugs. "Sometimes things don't work like they should."

"That's okay. Almost nothing I make works the way it's supposed to." Mac starts poking at the wires and joints.

"Mr. Ericson told me you built an in-line four cylinder engine when you were my age," Valerie says, handing Mac the small wirecutters he's reaching rather blindly for.

"Yeah, I wanted to make it a six cylinder but I couldn't find enough matching parts at the junkyard."

"I want to do that too, but it isn't working. Did you have problems with cracking? Should I use a welding method or a cold technique like pinning?" Wow, she is good.

"Well, really, you've got to think about the microfractures, and with the temperature and pressure stresses, it's better to use a hot welding method than a cold one like pinning. I worked with a mechanic in Los Angeles for a couple years and he prefers an inert gas weld on tungsten if it's possible." It wasn't often that Mr. Weathers used that particular technique, because it was expensive; but if the car's damage warranted it and the owners was willing to pay, he'd do that repair. Mac had done several; mostly high-performance engines for sports cars. They didn't get a ton of work like that, but Weathers's did have a reputation for restoring cars no one else would take on. Mac had seen the results of more than a few nasty accidents and bad driving habits.

"I'm just scared to do something wrong." Valerie watches Mac move wires and remove part of the robotic arm assembly.

"Sometimes you have to do something wrong to learn how to do it right," Mac says. Mr. Ericson used to say that when our experiments didn't turn out.

"But sometimes you don't get the chance to fix it afterward." Valerie says quietly. "Is it true that people who make mistakes go to prison?" Mac freezes. I am the town cautionary tale now. Am I the one parents tell their kids about to scare them into behaving? He's about to ask her to elaborate on that when the door flies open.

…

Jack knows he's got a goofy grin on his face watching Mac jabbering with his new mini-me about robotics and DVD players and engines. He's so damn smart. Kid shoulda been so much more. Not that Jack isn't eternally grateful to have a literal genius on his team, but he'd give that up in a heartbeat if it meant Mac was able to have a normal, safe life. Even if it meant I never got to meet him, I wish he'd gone to college, gotten the chance to use that big brain for more than just pulling us out of tight spots and making stuff that blows up. Sure they have the think tank work, but Mac's barely ever got time for that. He deserves so much better than what Jack and the Phoenix can give him.

He's so smart. He could have done anything. He could have been a respected scientist, a college professor, whatever he wanted. And now he's never going to be anything more than an ex-con to the people who don't know him. Jack's never been one to get bent out of shape at the unfairness of life when it happens to him. Not when we lost my dad, not when Uncle Bill sold half the ranch without telling us. Never. But God forbid life be cruel to the people he loves. Riley's gonna have trust issues for the rest of her life, and I know why she doesn't want to date anyone anymore. And Mac...He doesn't even know where to start. He didn't deserve to be stuck with a shitty parent, or to get caught up in the LA crime scene, or to go to prison.

"She seems to have taken to him," Arthur says quietly. "That's the most I've seen her talk in weeks."

"Yeah, Mac has that effect on people."

Arthur smiles. "Even back then, he was good at explaining things. I always thought he had the makings of a good teacher. He was smart, but more than that he was excited about things. I've always thought you shouldn't teach unless you're going to be able to get so excited about the subject that the kids can't help but love it too."

Jack wishes more of his own teachers would have followed that rule. Maybe if they had, I'd have been more interested. Maybe if I had someone like this teaching me, I might not be so confused every time Mac rattles off one of his science nerd rambles. Although come to think of it, Jack's learned an awful lot in the few months they've had the kid around. Maybe he is a good teacher anyway; he's teaching us.

And then Jack's warm fuzzy mood is smashed by a door slamming open and the butt of a gun in the side of his head. He's taken off guard by the shock of it, stumbling backward into the blackboard. Beside him, Mr. Ericson crumples, probably taken down the same way.

I left my gun in the car. Didn't think I should bring it into the school. Someone might have gotten pissed and I didn't need that today. Now Jack wishes he'd taken the risk. One guy keeps the gun trained on Jack while the other one heads for Valerie. Mac pushes the girl behind him and Jack sees him glance around the room, stopping when he sees a bottle of chemicals and the splash sink.

Oh, this isn't even a fair fight. There's two of them and Mac's in a science lab. Jack's almost grinning. These guys are gonna get their asses whooped. And then Mac's grabbing the chemicals and dumping them, and a billowing cloud of smoke fills the room. Jack takes advantage of the distraction to slam the arm of the guy holding him against the desk, the gun clatters to the floor and the guy leaps back, holding his arm.

And then Jack hears a frightened scream. "No! Let me go!" There's a third person in the room, Jack doesn't even know when they came in, and they've grabbed Valerie and are dragging her to the door. Jack's about to tackle the guy when he hears Mac first shout, and then the sound taper down to a buzzing groan. I've been in the business long enough to know what the reaction to electric shock is. One of these guys has a taser or a stun gun or something.

The smoke's clearing just enough that Jack can see the second goon jamming something against Mac's neck.

Mac collapses, his head hitting the corner of a desk as he falls. Jack sees blood, and it's all he can focus on. The world narrows to the red stains on the tile around Mac's head. He doesn't see the guy pull back and run for the door, he doesn't see any of it.

"Mac! Mac!" The kid's so damn still. Jack gently fingers the wound on his head, it doesn't seem deep, just a heavily bleeding gash. Head wounds always look worse than they are.

Mac hisses and flinches away from Jack's hand. "Ow." Jack can't bring himself to care too much; at least Mac's alive and alert.

"Jack, go get Valerie," Mac gasps out, still shaking.

"We'll find her, kid." Jack rocks back on his heels. "But I gotta make sure you're okay."

"Go check on Mr. Ericson. 'M fine." Mac pushes himself to his feet, using one of the desks for support. He stumbles and falls back into one of the too-small chairs.

"No you're not." Jack rubs a hand over Mac's shoulders.

"I can't go to the hospital," Mac mumbles softly. "If my PO finds out I got in trouble up here I don't know what's gonna happen."

"Mac, you didn't do anything wrong. I'll just call her and tell her what happened." Jack's pretty sure the woman will be understanding. "But I'm calling 911 first." Mac grips Jack's wrist as he pulls out his phone. "Mac we're gonna have to report this to the police." He doesn't want to see the look in Mac's eyes. "I have to call them." He hopes to God it isn't Sandoz that responds to the call.

By the time an ambulance and a police car arrive, Riley, Bozer, and Sam have joined them. While a paramedic patches up the cut on Mac's head and another one checks over Mr. Ericson, who regained consciousness about five minutes after Mac and has been worrying himself into a frenzy over Valerie, Riley pulls Jack aside.

"I managed to sneak away from Bozer and got into the school's main offices. I hacked their security cams and got this." She pulls up a set of pictures on her phone. "I can only get a partial plate off one of them, but they've been heavily customized. If we can track down the person who did the work, we might be able to track down the cars."

"It's a small town, shouldn't be too hard to find the custom body work place." If there's only one gas station there's probably only one mechanic.

"Already did. There are at least four places in town that do custom work like that. Two more closed last year. One of the ones still open is Valerie Lawson's father's; at the very least he might know who did that work, if he didn't do it himself." In a small town, everyone knows everything. I wonder if this was something personal?

"What kind of town has one gas station and four auto shops?"

"Hick towns that are apparently semi-famous for dirt track rally races. There's a big one up here every spring." She shrugs. "Guess it's legwork time."

"Ri, I hate to say this, but I really think we need to let the police handle this one." They can't afford to get Mac mixed up in a mess up here. Jack wants to help, he does, but this is the kind of thing that could get them all disavowed if it goes wrong. There are so many reasons we're not allowed to get involved in this.

"You and I both know the first things those guys are going to tell that girl's parents is to keep the police out of it. We're probably the best chance Valerie Lawson has of getting home alive."

Jack sighs and rubs his forehead. "You're right. But we're all undercover right now. We can't just go around saying we're the people who solve problems like this. We're supposed to be lawyers, not detectives. And we have Bozer."

"Not doing anything doesn't sit right with me, Jack." Me either. And I know Mac's gonna hate it. But we don't have a choice.

"Promise me you're not going to get in trouble."

"Who, me?" Riley shakes her head. "I'll be the picture of the perfect law-abiding citizen." She walks over to Bozer just as a couple of police officers, thankfully none of them Sandoz, walk up to Mac and Mr. Ericson. Jack joins them, just in time to hear one of the officers say they'll take Mr. Ericson's statement there but Mac and Jack, since they've been medically cleared, will need to come down to the station.

Jack sits next to Mac while they're waiting to make the report. The kid's shaking like a leaf; even when he's here to report a crime and not because he got in trouble, he's scared to death.

"Hey, kid, you didn't do anything wrong. It's gonna be fine." Jack rubs his thumb over the back of Mac's hand. "Your PO legally allowed you to come up here, you weren't responsible for anything that happened in there, and you tried to stop them. It's gonna be okay."

The cops split him and Mac up to take their stories, and Jack hates it. He knows it's just procedure, to make sure they can't corroborate each others stories if something is fishy, but Jack can't imagine how terrified Mac must be. This whole town thinks he's been on his way to crime since he was nine. They're not gonna go easy on him. Jack wanted to protest, wanted to make them interrogate him and Mac together, but he also didn't want to make this worse. Maybe if we don't piss them off this will be over soon.

When he gets out, Mac isn't done yet, and he has to wait fifteen minutes more for him. Sam's still hanging around, but she says Riley took Bozer to go get some lunch, because he seemed like he was going to panic. "They're not going to be able to do anything to either of you. School security feeds all confirm your story. They just wanted to make you two sweat a little." Her words are bitten off, coldly angry. "I heard them talking. They liked getting a lawyer on the other side of the table for once. And they all wanted to watch Mac squirm." Jack wants to punch someone.

When Mac comes out he's scarily pale, and his hands are shaking. I'm just glad he's not walking out in cuffs. Jack wouldn't put it past some of these guys to hold Mac on some phony suspicion. He really doesn't have any friends in this town.

"Are you ready to get outta here?" Jack asks. "We can go pick up Riley and Bozer and hit the road." Mac looks like he's going to say yes, but he shakes his head instead.

"I need to see her father."

"Mac, we can't do anything. The police are gonna handle this. We should probably be staying as far away from their investigation as we can." Maybe if this was any other town. If Mac didn't have a target painted on his back. I don't like the thought of leaving that little girl with those guys. But our hands are tied.

"I want to apologize to him for letting them take her."

"Mac, it wasn't your fault."

"I know. But I want to anyway."

…

Sam texts Riley that they're going to Lawson's house and will be back to pick her up in about half an hour. Riley's a better person than Sam will ever be, because instead of yelling at Bozer for pacing and constantly repeating himself with variations of "this is bad, they're gonna lock him up again, this is bad", Riley just took him by the arm and suggested going to find a place to get food.

Sometimes I forget he's just a civilian. Sam's spent her whole life working with people whose entire job description means looking like they have it together when the world is falling apart. I'm not used to people who just admit they're scared without me practically having to drag it out of them. Even Mac is far more closed off than his roommate. Sure, he doesn't have Riley and Jack's training, he does wear his heart on his sleeve a lot more than they do, but he still tries to pretend he's fine. Bozer doesn't.

Riley texts her back Ok. He's doing better. Told him Mac was out. Sam lets herself sigh softly; when did this turn into such a damn mess? They should be on their way home by now. And instead they're driving to tell a man his daughter's been kidnapped. Not that he doesn't already know. Does trouble just follow us? Sam honestly can't remember the last time she actually took a vacation. I guess in this life, you don't get them. But still, Mac's been catching hard breaks. The camping trip with Jack went so wrong, and now this. She sincerely hopes Christmas won't bring another disaster.

The Lawson house is a modest, unassuming little suburban home. No one would know, just to look at it, how much tragedy there is inside right now. Isn't that life for you? Sam's not sure where the sudden attack of negativity is coming from.

She follows Mac and Jack out of the car to the door. Mac knocks, and his voice is a little shaky when he calls out, "Mr. Lawson?"

"What is it?" A strained voice calls back.

"Uh...It's Angus MacGyver. I used to live around here? I'm here about your daughter Valerie."

The door opens slowly, and a middle aged man, his face haggard and lines of worry creasing his cheeks, glances out. "You're not with the police, are you? They already called me. And the people who have Valerie, they called too. They said no police." He almost slams the door again.

Mac lowers his head, looking like a kicked puppy. "No, we're not with the police. I… I was at the lab when Valerie was kidnapped. I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

"I appreciate that." Mr. Lawson pulls the door open. "Thank you, but I'm a little busy right now. I can't leave. The kidnappers are going to call me back, and I don't know when." Sam can sense something hesitant in his voice. There's something wrong about this whole thing.

She glances over the man's shoulder into his living room; one whole wall is covered with car grilles and photographs and there's a bookshelf of trophies for some kind of racing.

She needs to get a better look at what's going on. She's seen a lot of kidnappings and ransom demands. And this one isn't matching the way things normally go. They've already made contact. But they haven't made a demand yet, or at least that's how it sounds. Kidnappers who act at random are amateurs. They make a demand on the first call because that's how they think it goes in the movies. These guys are pros. They knew who they wanted; they didn't just snatch a random kid from the schoolyard. Which begs the question, what do they want from a mechanic? She can't stop thinking about what Riley said about all the mechanic shops. They're probably struggling just to get by, with that much competition. If they know him, and the way this is working I think that's the case, what do they want? "I can't imagine it's easy to be waiting alone. If you want us to stay, for a little…"

"Are you deaf, lady?" Lawson snaps. "I'm waiting for a ransom call. And you three are giving me nothing but problems."

"We're lawyers," Cage says. "If they attempt a negotiation, we could help." She knows Lawson can't exactly turn them away without looking suspicious now. Make him think we're necessary. And that we just might have some connections with the authorities.

"Maybe for a few minutes." Lawson looks very uncomfortable. Sam, Mac, and Jack step into the living room.

"You were into rally car racing, huh?" Jack asks, apparently he noticed the trophies too.

Lawson glances at the wall behind him. "Yeah. I was working my way up through open wheel. Almost went bigtime. But I got out of it almost six years ago now. When Louise got worse." She sighs. "I couldn't stop thinkin' of what might happen to Val if I got hurt. And now I'm all she has left." He sighs and runs a hand through his greying hair. "And some father I am."

"Do you know any reason someone would want to kidnap your daughter?" Jack asks.

"No. I don't have enemies. It's a small town, we all know each other." He sighs. "I'm just afraid I'll never see her again." But it doesn't sound like the tone of a worried father. It sounds like a man saying what you have to in a given situation. He knows exactly who has her.

"If they've called asking you for anything, that's a good sign," Sam says. "Before you give them anything, make sure you get proof of life. Make sure you get to talk to her." Lawson nods. He's not going to reveal anything with us here. And if they do make a call, and he's worried about saying something in front of us, we might end up getting Valerie killed. Sam's seen enough. She pulls her phone from her pocket and glances at it like she's gotten a message. "It looks like Riley's ready to hit the road." She nods to Mac and Jack.

"I'm so sorry," Mac says again as they leave. Lawson only nods and shuts the door behind them.

"He's lying," Sam whispers as soon as the door closes.

"No shit Sherlock," Jack mutters. "He's in on it."

Sam suppresses a frustrated groan. "I don't think he's involved in kidnapping his own daughter. He was genuinely afraid. But he does know more than he's telling."

"Well, as much as I'd love to let you go Jedi Mind Tricks on the guy, we're not officially allowed to be on this case, much less doing interrogations."

"Jack, please." Mac's eyes are pleading. "We have to help Valerie. No matter what her father did, she doesn't deserve to pay for his mistakes." Jack nods. He wants to take this on as much as any of us. He doesn't want to leave a little kid to be hurt or killed. But he doesn't want Mac in trouble either.

Jack opens the door of the car and slides in. "What am I gonna tell your PO now?"

"They're not tracking my tether. I'm technically out of range; it isn't really common knowledge that it's linked to a sat feed." Mac shrugs. "She won't know I didn't spend the night in the hospital."

"Which is really where you should be," Jack mutters. "I think you really do need to get your head examined."

"For trying to do the right thing?" Mac looks a little bitter. "That girl needs our help. I'm not leaving her hanging out to dry because I'm trying to protect my own back." Oh. And that's what the real problem is. This isn't about this town, or about his past. This is about Oversight and Bishop. This is about Mac being the one who paid for Oversight's lapses of judgement when it came to handling situations. She wondered when that was going to surface. With everything that happened to Mac inside, it isn't surprising it's taken this long for his anger about being used as a pawn to finally be addressed. He saw a lot of himself in Val. And he won't let her end up like him, thrown under the bus to protect everyone else.

"Mac," Sam says gently, "Listen. I know you're worried about her. And I'm not going to ask you to give up. I just want you to be careful." He nods just a little.

"So what's the plan, hoss?" Jack asks. "Cause I don't know about you, but I haven't exactly figured out how we're gonna find Valerie if her own father doesn't even want us to know."

"Oh, that's the easy part. He's gonna tell us," Mac says.

"What?" Sam's heard plenty about Mac's improvisation skills, but she has no idea what he's about to do. Clearly he has a plan. She's even more confused when he rips a solar light out of someone's yard. No wonder he got in trouble with the law. She stifles a smile.

Mac clambers into the car and starts pulling out the dash radio. He does it scarily easily, and Sam wonders if that's another thing he learned in his time as a vigilante. He probably saw a lot of kids rip radios out of cars on the street.

Jack slaps Mac's wrists as he starts yanking the radio out. "Hey, hey, hey. I have to pay for damages!"

"What's more important, your bank account or a little girl's life?" Mac snaps back. Jack was just kind of joking around. Mac's so stressed he's taking it seriously. She sees Jack about to say something, and then he clearly notices what she has and thinks better of it. He's more perceptive than people give him credit for.

"What are you doing?" Jack asks.

"Well, properties of refracted light-"

Jack cuts him off. "Hey, you're talking to your partner, not your little genius mini-me this time. Dial back the Einstein about ten notches, okay?"

"Okay, well, basically, sound makes vibrations in the air. And in solid things like glass. So I'm going to bounce the CD's laser reader off the window, capture the light with the photocell from the solar light, and convert it back into sound we can hear through the radio."

"Couldn't you have done that without ripping it out of the dash?"

"Not really," Mac says. "You got any gum?"

Sam pulls out a stick of peppermint gum from her purse and hands it over. She started chewing it when she stopped smoking, and it's her new nervous habit. She hasn't been doing it so much lately. I haven't had to buy a new pack of gum since October.

Mac folds up the wrapper and sticks it in his pocket before sticking the gum in his mouth. He's pulling the radio apart, and Sam watches while he rips through the wires for the pieces he wants. He pulls out a small red piece, probably the laser reader, and then pulls the gum out of his mouth and uses it to stick the laser to the side mirror.

"Eww, gross," Jack mutters. "Getting your germs all over my car."

"It's not your car Jack," Sam mutters.

"Yeah, that makes it so much better." Mac starts spinning the dial on the radio, searching for the right frequency. There's a low buzzing, and then Cage hears Lawson's voice. "No, thank you for calling, I appreciate your concern. But I have to keep this line open for when these psychos call about my daughter." There's a soft beep, and then a measured thudding, like pacing, and a low voice. Lawson's talking to himself. "Come on, Karl, just tell me where she is. I've got the money. Just tell me what you want."

"Damn, he does know them." Jack mutters.

There's no sound for a while. And then there's a soft pinging noise, and some thudding. And something that sounds like a door slamming. What…

And then the car in the driveway roars to life and starts backing out. Jack, Mac, and Sam jump out of the minivan and start running, but it's too late. The car peels out of the driveway in a cloud of exhaust and burnt rubber, and Mac pulls Sam back before the fender clips her.

"Wow." Jack stares after the retreating vehicle. "That looks like a man who's in way over his head." Sam couldn't agree more.

…

Mac doesn't hesitate when Jack asks if he thinks they should go after Lawson. We've come this far. We have to. But they need to know where he's going.

Mac studies the tire treads. "He's got all terrain performance tires. And the way they gripped the road even after he fishtailed; that's a modified suspension. The kind of stuff you'd see on a dirt track racer." He saw a few cars come into the shop with those mods, they were usually beat to hell from the races.

"So he's got a car made for rugged terrain racing. Sounds like half the guys in town have the same thing."

"That's not all." Mac bends down, there are clods of dirt all over the driveway. "See this? It came off his tires and wheel wells."

"Dirt?" Cage asks.

"Red clay. There are deposits all over SoCal, but there aren't too many up here. In fact, there's only one I can think of. Dad used to tell stories about bootleggers using the old logging roads north of town in the 20s. That's the only place around here there's red clay."

"So a car tricked out for cross country, and clay that's only found on old smuggling routes. Sounds like he's running drugs or guns," Cage says.

"Maybe he lost a shipment. And now his bosses are pissed." Jack glances at Mac. "It's like Han Solo in Star Wars, man!" Mac sighs and rolls his eyes at Jack's movie reference, but he'll admit it's fairly accurate. Whatever this guy did, he must owe the people he works for money. And they took Valerie to make sure he'd come through on the deal.

"Do you wanna go after him?" Jack asks. "If he's up there, chances are we might never find him."

"I think we have to try." Jack doesn't say anything else as they drive away. I need to let Riley and Bozer know we aren't coming back. Mac reaches for his phone when it begins to ring. But the caller ID isn't Riley. It's Thornton.

He's about to pick it up when Jack mutters, "Don't answer that."

"Why?" If he doesn't tell her something she's going to be even more upset. She probably already knows about the incident at the school; Mac's pretty sure as soon as his name came up in a police file she got hold of it. She's going to wonder what we're doing. Whether everything's okay.

"You want to be the one to explain to our by-the-books boss that we're doing an off-the-record favor for someone who didn't even want us involved in the first place?" Jack raises an eyebrow. "Be my guest."

Ok, well, when you put it that way...Mac lets the call ring through. Hopefully she'll think we're at the hospital and can't answer. When it stops ringing he calls Riley.

She answers, sounding like she's keeping her voice down. Mac can hear chatter and the tinkle of a bell hung over a door in the background. She and Bozer probably decided to eat at Marsha's cafe. If it hasn't changed since Mac was here, it's the only one that has a bell with that distinctive tone.

"You guys on you way back?"

"Um, about that…" Mac's suddenly struggling to figure out how to say this. "Uh, Lawson definitely knows the guys who took his daughter. I think he was smuggling for them using some old logging roads. And we're kind of following him to see if we can find a way to get Valerie back safe."

"Oh." Riley sounds both unsurprised and a little concerned. "Patty's been blowing up my phone. The last text she sent asked if Mac was okay. I think when the police report flagged she got worried." Mac sighs. Maybe I should just call her. We're already here, she can't tell us not to go. But that makes him think of the other person who's not exactly in the loop on this whole thing.

"How's Bozer?"

"Fine. A little confused and a lot worried about you. What am I gonna tell him about all this? "

"Let me talk to him." Mac hears a rustle and then Bozer's voice comes through.

"Mac, what are you doing?" He's so worried about me. First I get knocked out, then dragged down the the police station, and now this. Mac can't blame his best friend for being scared.

He can't dodge the truth on this one. "We're going to try and find Valerie."

"Please be careful." Bozer whispers. "Don't do something stupid."

"I won't. I've got Jack with me, he'll keep me out of trouble."

"He's okay with this?" Bozer asks. "I thought going vigilante again would get you locked up for sure."

"I'm not going vigilante, Boze. I'm just trying to help someone."

"While going outside of normal police procedures. Mac, that is the classic definition of vigilante." It sounds like Bozer's pacing, a sprung floorboard creaks in a rhythm as he walks.

"It's gonna be okay. We'll be fine." Mac sighs. "I don't know when we'll be back. Just hang in there, okay?"

"Okay. I get it, I do. Just please don't die." And then Mac hears the phone be handed off.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure he's okay." Riley says. "We're going over to the hospital to check on Mr. Ericson. We'll just stay there until you get back."

"It might be a while." Mac doesn't know how far they'll have to go to find Lawson.

"It wouldn't be my first time spending the night at a hospital." It wouldn't be Bozer's either. Mac tries not to think about how many times he and Boze existed on crappy hospital vending machine snacks and even worse coffee as Bozer's mother finally succumbed to her cirrhosis. Most people think I hate hospitals and medical because I don't want to be the patient. I mean, not that that isn't somewhat accurate, but the thing I hate most is the memories. I've never been to a hospital for anything that ended in a good one. He's seen mothers come in and leave with new babies, parents reassured that a child's surgery was a success, accident victims whose families were surrounding them when they woke up in the ICU. But Mac's life never dealt him a good hand.

He hangs up and texts Patty quickly. Staying overnight in town. Be home tomorrow. Even if they find Lawson and Val soon, there's no way they're making it home tonight. He thinks they've crossed the state line by now. The dirt road isn't as bad as he remembers from coming up here with Dad, so they're making better time than be expected.

"Hey Mac, I got tire tracks." Jack pulls the minivan into a small two-track. "Look pretty fresh." He turns in, and the car pounds down the rutted, muddy trail with teeth-cracking jolts. Okay, that's more like what I remember.

Suddenly there's a blur of black through the trees. Mac doesn't really have time to register what it is before there's a car coming at them head on. "Jack!"

Jack tries to swerve, but there's a massive tree on one side and a solid wall of rock on the other. And then the car in front of them swerves wildly, tires spinning in the slick mud, and fishtails, slamming sideways into a tree. Smoke starts to rise from the hood. Jack slams the minivan into park and Mac jumps out, running for the car door and yanking on it.

Lawson, inside, is half hidden by the airbag, head leaning on the window. Mac finally pulls the door open, slashes the man's seatbelt with his knife, and drags him out, as Jack and Cage race up.

Lawson's already regaining consciousness, and the second he does he's scrambling to his feet, staggering toward the trunk of the car.

"Hey, what the hell! Get away from there, it might blow up!" Jack shouts, grabbing for the man's arm.

"You don't understand!" Lawson yells, voice slurring. "If I don't get them their money they're gonna kill Val." He shoves Jack's hand away and opens the trunk, frantically dragging out a pair of heavy duffel bags. Jack and Cage each grab one, and Jack unzips his.

"That's a hell of a lot of money for a car repairman."

"It's…" Lawson sighs and staggers, leaning against a tree.

"You're smuggling drug money, aren't you?" Cage asks.

Lawson nods. "You gotta understand, man. We had so many medical bills. We didn't have enough insurance for the treatments Lou needed. I ran up debt, a lot of it. Borrowed against the house, the shop, whatever I could. And then the bank started asking for it back. They were gonna foreclose on the house. The shop was going under. And Val, she just lost her mom. I couldn't let us end up like that. So when some men came to the shop and asked if I could recommend a driver who was discreet and wouldn't ask questions, I volunteered."

"So why did they suddenly decide to threaten you?" Cage says.

"I told them I was done. It's getting more dangerous. Roads are crawling with cops. Val's already lost her mom. I couldn't get arrested and leave her with no one." He sighs. "And now they're gonna kill her. I was supposed to make this run for them and they'd be at the end with Val. But now my car's wrecked."

"We can do it for you," Mac says. Behind him, he hears Jack make a skeptical mumble. We can't let Valerie down.

"With that car?" Lawson asks. "If we get made we're never gonna outrun them."

"Hopefully we won't have to worry about that," Mac says. He sees Jack and Cage grab the money and stow it in the hatchback.

There are some bags of groceries in the backseat of Lawson's car, and Mac grabs them on impulse. Never know when something random might turn out to be useful. He jumps back as heat envelops the car, and as Jack pulls away the whole vehicle goes up in flames.

…

SOMEWHERE IN THE NOR-CAL WILDERNESS

NOT A PLACE MINIVANS ARE NATURALLY FOUND

Jack can understand that Lawson is worried about his daughter, but the man's negativity is honestly getting a little draining, especially when Jack's seat sore from bouncing around through the woods on back trails with a suspension clearly not made for off roading. "We have an hour to get to the meet location. We're never gonna make it in a minivan. You don't have any mods, any off-road enhancements. The first cop that catches onto us, and we're done."

"Listen, man, I'm a trained pursuit driver. I could make it to that meet on time in a shoebox," Jack snaps, before he realizes he shouldn't say that. "I was almost a cop before I was a lawyer, but I wrecked my shoulder in physical training and had to quit." He can hear Cage facepalming in the backseat. What? I needed to fix that mistake somehow.

"You can't outrun a cop in this thing! It's absolutely impossible." Keep telling me that, and I'm gonna come back there and knock you out for real, C-3P0.

"We're not going to outrun them. We're going to avoid them entirely." Mac pulls out his phone and calls Riley. "Riley? Are you still at the hospital?"

"Put it on speaker," Jack says.

"Yes. They took Mr. Ericson for a CAT scan. It's just a precaution. He's insisting he's fine." Jack shakes his head. Guess the kid came by that trait honestly.

"We've run into a little trouble up here, and we need a little backup from your end. Can you get hold of a paramedic's radio?"

"You want me to resort to petty theft? Heck yeah." Riley's probably going stir crazy being stuck back in Mission City unable to help. He hears some rustling and then Bozer comes on the line.

"Why did you just ask her to steal something?"

"Because we might or might not be helping transport a shipment of laundered money across state lines and we have to keep the cops off our backs."

"And your lawyer friends are cool with that?" Bozer sounds like he's on the edge of hysteria. "Mac, what are you doing? You're gonna get arrested. Again."

"Not if Riley does her job." And then there's another scuffling and the phone's apparently back with Riley.

"Okay, Mac, I got a radio. What now?"

"Tune frequencies until you find 161.505. That's station dispatch. I need you to clear the roads for us. Whenever we take a turn, see if you can keep the cops moving opposite to us."

"On it." Mac can hear Riley opening her rig. "Got a map, got my radio, and I'm gonna go get myself a spot with free wifi and less prying eyes than a waiting room."

"How do you know what the dispatch radio frequency is?" Jack asks.

"I had a lot of time on my hands and a homemade ham radio as a kid. I might have accidentally ended up on that frequency once and really confused a lot of cops." Mac shrugs, cheeks turning slightly pink. "I was doing a really stupid impression of Bill Nye the Science Guy but with my own projects. Which might have been how the cops found out I was breaking into school after hours."

From the back, Sam laughs, and Jack finds himself chuckling as well. Of course you did. Of course eight or nine year old Angus MacGyver built his own radio and accidentally snitched on his own slightly illegal shenanigans. Jack wishes someone would have helped him way back then, before everything went to hell and that innocence was lost for good. Before he had to turn himself in for something way worse than some B&E.

"Okay, turning on Foresthill road, heading south-west," Jack says. Finally. Pavement. "Riley, you ready?"

"Almost." Jack hears her opening her rig. "Okay. I've got your location from Mac's tether signal, and I'm ready to imitate dispatch. I've recorded all the transmissions in the last few minutes and I've got all the voice patterns I need scanned into my rig, so-"

"You can tell us all the fun stuff later. Just make sure we get back without getting arrested for now, okay?" Jack asks.

"Sure thing." He can hear a vague mumbling in the background, probably Riley's computer faking dispatch. "You guys should be in the clear from here on in. I've got all available units responding to multiple reported shots fired in an area north of you. By the time they figure out they've been had, you'll be well past them."

Jack can hear the sirens wailing faintly. And then more, coming up from in front of them. Slow down, don't look suspicious. But it's too late. He was pushing ninety-five as it was, and apparently he's just become this cop's prime suspect in Riley's fake shooting.

The patrol car wheels around behind them, sirens screaming. We can't stop. If they see the money we're going down. And even if we could somehow come up with an explanation, we're still going to run out of time to save Valerie.

Mac unbuckles his safety belt and scrambles over the console into the backseat. Jack's not sure what he's doing back there, but the kid comes back with a bunch of junk and starts twisting wires and smashing down a can. Jack's been around him long enough to know that whatever this is is probably going to explode.

"Jack, pop the hood!" Mac shouts, and Jack has zero idea why, but he does it anyway. And immediately regrets it when the road disappears and all he sees is neon green. Musta busted the hood latch banging around through the woods. He thought bouncing over that rock sounded like it shook something loose.

"Hey kid, I kinda need to be able to see!"

"Shove this under the hood hinge!" Mac hands him one of two little crushed cans.

"Is that a bomb?"

"Yeah, just a little one." Mac grins. Jack glances in the rearview mirror. Sam looks intrigued, Lawson looks terrified. This is gonna be fun. Neither of those two have seen Mac's skills in action. Sam's seen them from a distance, and Lawson's probably heard the stories. But they haven't had front row seats like Jack has. He finds himself grinning. Somewhere along the line Mac's antics went from exasperating to entertaining. He's proud of the kid, proud of the way Mac can salvage the unsalvageable, the way Mac always seems to make whatever he needs out of the junk he picks up along the way.

Jack watches Mac twist a few more wires together, and then there's a bang and a puff of smoke from each side of the car. The hood flies over the top and smashes onto the windshield of the police car.

"That was awesome!" Jack can see the car screeching to a halt behind them. Then he realizes Mac's opening the sunroof and pulling himself out of it.

"What are you doin'?"

"More oxygen, more speed," Mac pants. "I got this, I'll be fine." Jack's not so sure it's the truth, as he watches the kid slither down the windshield and yank something out of the engine, flinging it into the road. He holds his breath until Mac scrambles back inside.

"Did you just throw out the air filter?"

"Yeah. We don't have too much farther to go. And I'd like to be there early. I don't trust these guys to hold up their end of the deal." Mac glances over the back of his seat. "Mr. Lawson, I don't think those men have any intention of handing over your daughter. We're going to do everything we can to get her back, but you're going to have to trust us, okay?"

…

Mac really hopes this plan is going to work. Well, the half of a plan he has.

They're not letting Lawson go to the meet. They dropped him off at a house they passed on the way, despite his insistence that he was going to be quiet and stay out of the way. There's just no way to be sure he won't forget anything about that promise the second he sees his daughter. He might decide that turning on them would help him get Valerie back, or he might just give in to whatever they demand.

"Okay, this is where you two get out," Jack says, stopping just before the location Lawson gave them. "They're expecting one driver, they'll get one driver."

"Jack…"

"Hey, I'll be fine. And if I'm not, I'm counting on you two to save the day, okay?" Mac glances at Sam. She looks every bit as determined and calm as Jack. I don't know much about her past, but she has to have seen some field action at some point. She's not just a desk bound interrogation expert. Mac's not sure why she's no longer in the field, but he'd guess she has her own demons. I should know what that's like.

Mac rummages around in the back and finds a can of spray paint amongst the random groceries. He pulls it out before climbing out of the car.

"What are you gonna do with that?" Jack asks.

"I don't know yet," Mac says, grinning, following Sam into the bushes. The two of them follow Jack until they catch sight of two parked cars. With a lot of guys with guns standing around. That's too many to take on by ourselves. They must have been expecting trouble. He hopes Jack's figured that out too.

Jack climbs out of the car and walks around it, showing his hands. "I know you guys must have a lot of questions, but really, the important thing is, I've got your money, right here, as requested." He glances behind him at the beat-up, hoodless minivan. "For the record, this is not the car I requested."

One of the men, Mac recognizes him from the school opens the back of a car and drags out Valerie. "I got a lotta questions. Where's Lawson, who are you, and what the hell's going on?"

"See now, those are exactly the kinda questions I said weren't important."

"Well, you can tell Lawson that since he's gonna farm out his business to random people we don't know if we can trust, the deal's off. We're keeping the girl. So if you don't want her dead, you and Lawson both better keep your mouths shut. And keep bringing us our cash." The man says, yanking Val back against him.

"So do you want this, or not?" Jack asks, patting the side of the van.

"What do you think?" The man snaps. "Bring it over. Carefully. Or the girl gets a bullet in that smart little brain of hers." We need to hurry. Mac glances at the can in his hand, and fumbles through his jacket pockets for the matches he always keeps in them, just in case.

One thing I learned growing up was that aerosol cans should never be thrown in any trash that might get burned. Granted, that didn't stop me from seeing why that was a rule. And scaring the hell out of Mr. McGinty's horses. Mac grabs a couple of the matches, pulls off the can's spray nozzle, and shoves the wooden ends as far in as he can.

"When this goes off, get ready to move. I'll grab Valerie, you help Jack." Sam nods. Mac knows Jack will respond; he's familiar enough with Mac's crazy plans to react to them without needing an explanation.

Mac lights a third match and touches it to the top of the other two. He and Sam start to run, staying low behind the brush and scrubby trees, moving toward the back of the cars. Then there's a massive bang, and Mac rushes out, heading straight for Valerie. He grabs her, pulling her away from the disoriented kidnapper, and starts running Val shrieks, but Mac doesn't stop; they can't afford to if he doesn't want them both to get caught and used as leverage. I know where we are. And I know a spot we'll be safe. He can hear yells and gunshots behind him, but he can't look back. Jack and Cage are trained operatives. They'll be okay.

"Mr. MacGyver?" Val gasps. "What are you doing here?"

"Helping your dad keep you safe. And you can call me Mac." Mac pants, searching for the trail he knows must be here somewhere. Hopefully it hasn't grown over so badly that I can't find it. And then he sees a rusted piece of scrap metal nailed to the bark of a tree. The painted words are gone and the bark is growing around the edges of the sign, but he remembers when it read "Science Area. Keep Out." in messy blue letters.

"Is my dad okay? Where is he? Why didn't he come?"

"Something happened to his car." Mac doesn't think she needs all the details right now. "I promise, he's okay. We're gonna see him when this is all over."

"Mac, I'm scared." She's shivering, despite the fact that they're running as hard as they can, breath fogging in the chilly air. Probably in shock, from the trauma and fear. And it's getting darker and colder by the minute.

Mac drapes his jacket over Valerie's shoulders. "We're gonna be okay. I know where we're going. We're gonna be safe. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

"But what about my dad?" Val asks, pulling the much too big coat around her. "He got in trouble. Is he going to have to go to prison?" And that's why she was asking earlier. It wasn't about me. It was about knowing her father was breaking the law.

"It's gonna be okay. I have friends who can help people who get in trouble." Mac shivers and rubs his own arms. Why do I seem to keep ending up in the middle of nowhere in miserable weather? It's not exactly raining, but it's sure not dry. And it's even colder here than it was in the Los Padres.

And then he sees it, the small shack up in the massive old oak tree that thankfully has stood a few more years. "What's that?" Val asks, blinking up at where Mac's shining his phone's flashlight.

"My old lab." Mac grins. "From when I was your age."

He scrambles up the trunk of the tree, hands finding the old knots and branches he knows by muscle memory. He shoves up the trapdoor and scrambles through, almost knocking his head on the ceiling. Wow, everything really does feel so much smaller now.

He hasn't been back here since...since the night he fell and broke his ankle. It had been raining, the bark was wet and slimy, and I slipped. I was hoping Dad would noticed I hadn't come home yet and come get me, but it got darker and darker and he never came. Mac had made a makeshift splint out of branches and his socks, and a crutch out of a big stick, and limped his way home. When I came in, Dad just seemed mad that I hurt myself. He didn't seem relieved at all to see me back. It was like he never even noticed I was gone. And after that Dad had said Mac wasn't allowed to go to the tree house again. So I never did. Not that I wanted to after that.

He opens the box in the corner and pulls out a rope. It's a little frayed and starting to rot out, but it might be useful. Most of the chemicals have eaten through the bottles Mac stored them in, and anything metal is rusted. There's a lot less in here than he remembers leaving. Probably someone else found it and took anything good with them. The place smells like smoke and there's a lot of cigarette butts and empty beer cans lying around. Probably a bunch of local kids found it. Everything looks old, though. There's a thick layer of dust and grime on the floor and it looks like mice have been the only occupants for a while now. He tucks some of the wires and nuts and bolts he found laying on the floor into his pockets. There's not a lot here to work with. Less than I was hoping. He's forgotten how long it's actually been since he was here last.

"Valerie," he calls down quietly. "I'm gonna have you come up here, okay? I'm gonna come down and help you." He scrambles down carefully, his ankle twinging with the memory of the last time he was here in the dark, in the rain. He points out the handholds and she swings herself up into the trapdoor without too much trouble. Mac follows.

"Okay, let's see here." He picks up an old lantern and shakes it. There's not much fuel left in it, but there's enough to light it. The faint flickering glow illuminates the familiar milk-crate work desk and the math equations scribbled on the walls. Yeah, I was never gonna win any awards for interior design.

"Wow," Valerie whispers. Clearly she's impressed. "You came here when you were my age?"

"Yes I did." Mac kneels down on the dusty floor so he can look at her eye to eye. "After I lost my mom, I felt like everything in my whole life fell apart. I needed someplace where I could put things back together."

"I lost my mom too," Valerie says quietly. "Were you scared?"

"Yes." Mac swallows hard. The memories still hurt. "I was really scared. This was the only place I felt safe after she was gone." He doesn't elaborate on why. Those memories don't need to come up right now. Her father cares enough about her to risk everything to get her back. He wouldn't have yelled at her and ignored her. For the first few years he hadn't been able to escape that anger and grief. He'd been so glad when he found the old treehouse and was able to make it his. And I was lucky Mr. McGinty didn't kick me out when he found me up here. "So I know you're gonna be safe here too." He glances around one more time. "Hey, my old telescope's still here." He pulls it out and shakes off a couple spiders. "It might still work. You can keep an eye out for anyone coming with it." He hands it to Valerie. "Just brush off the cobwebs first." He brushes some dirt and mouse nests off the three legged stool by the desk. He pulls out his phone. As much as I hate calling the cops, I'm going to have to. They need real law enforcement's help for this one. But when he pulls out his phone, there's no bars. Oh no. He tries holding it over his head, moving to the far corner of the treehouse, but nothing really helps. If he wants to make a cal he's going to have to go find someplace with signal. "Okay, now stay up here until I come for you, or until morning, okay?"

Valerie nods, her face pale and stiff with fear. "Where are you going?"

"To try and get some cell signal and call someone to come help us."

"Please don't go, I'm scared." She grabs his hand. "What if they find you?"

"I'm coming back."

"Promise?" There's so much blind faith in her eyes. And Mac wants to promise. He wants to say everything's going to be okay. But he can't do that. And he knows how much it hurts when someone you trust breaks a promise.

"I can't do that. But I can promise you that I'm going to do everything in my power to stay safe, okay?" He smiles at her just a little. "I mean, I did just use a spray paint can to make a distraction and get you away from those men. Have a little faith, kid." Damn, I sound like Jack.

He helps her up the tree. "Don't come down unless it's for me or my friend Jack or the police, okay?" She nods.

Mac plunges through the brush, continually checking his phone's signal. He gets one bar for a moment, and a text buzzes through from Jack. On my way to you. Be careful. Some of those guys are still looking for you. Mac wondered if that was the case. He heard an engine that definitely wasn't the minivan's start while he and Val were running.

He's getting close to the road. Signal's stronger here, but if those smugglers are looking for him...

There's a sputtering rumble and Mac cringes, ducking back into the bushes. Oh no. And then he sees the neon green that can only belong to one vehicle in Mission City. It's Jack.

He steps out, just as Jack pulls the wheezing, squealing car to a halt. It sounds like the suspension is shot and the engine is a few minutes away from giving out. I knew taking out the air filter was gonna be hell on it. But they didn't really have a choice.

"Jack!" He says, not bothering to hide the relief in his voice. "Wow. It looks like we broke it, we bought it."

"Yeah, but that's not the biggest problem we have," Jack says. "Cage has a few of our friendly neighborhood goons back at the drop site. But one car pulled out right after you ran with Valerie. I couldn't stop them." Jack shakes his head. "They're probably combing the roads for you right now."

"We don't need to use the roads. I know how to get back to town from here." Mac leans on the car. "But that's not the real problem."

"Yeah. You and I both know those guys are never going to stop hunting the Lawsons. So either we change jobs to full time protection detail, or we find a way to stop them for good. I called in the cavalry as soon as Riley had a solid fix on your location from your tether," Jack says. "But those guys might show up before then."

"What do we have left?" Mac starts digging through the grocery bags again.

Chocolate chips. Sugar. Butter. Great if I wanted to make cookies. But I don't think these guys are going to let bygones be bygones and be content with a plate of homemade dessert. I need something more...explosive.

Mac continues digging. Toothpaste, dish soap, hydrogen peroxide. Mac sets aside the soap, peroxide and sugar. All three of those have potential.

When he finds the package of baking yeast tucked in a bag with some potato chips and onions, Mac stops. Yeast, peroxide, dish soap...just like the experiment Mr. Ericson did on the first day of class.

"I've got an idea," Mac says, turning to Jack, grinning at the half-amused, half concerned look on the older man's face. "We're just going to give them what they want."

…

"I don't know if I like this plan," Jack mutters. I know Mac likes to be cryptic about his plans, but what the hell does that even mean? "Give them what they want"? Not Valerie, he wouldn't do that...And then Jack sees the kid start rummaging through the bags of money in the car. Ooohhh.

"Oh you're gonna like it even less in a minute." Mac's fiddling with some stuff in one of the duffle bags. He's got a bunch of random stuff from Lawson's groceries and he's muttering to himself.

"Why?" Jack has the sinking feeling he already knows.

"Because we need your phone for this to work."

"Not again, man!"

"Hey! You get better signal than I do up here!" Mac argues. "I don't know if a call will go through on mine."

"Excuses. You just want to destroy my phone again." But Jack hands it over with a grin. Let's see what story I get to tell the guys at the genius bar this time.

Mac makes some final adjustments to whatever sciency thing he's doing and shoves the phone in the bag. "If you have a waterproof cover on it it should be fine." Jack grins. Don't leave home without the fully ruggedized cases now. He thinks Otterbox should hire Mac to do testimonial ads for them. Like those old "takes a licking and keeps on ticking" Timex commercials. He'd like to see how many of Mac's crazy plans those phone cases would survive. Probably not the ones where he blows them up. On purpose.

"Okay, we need to go." Mac's checking his phone as they head toward a spot where they have decent cover but can still see the minivan. "It looks like I can still get enough signal to call you."

"This is more complicated than it needs to be. Just let me shoot out their tires!"

"And if you miss?"

"I'm not gonna miss!" I was the top sniper in my Delta unit. Keep insulting me and you're gonna find out how good my aim is, with these pinecones.

"Okay, if this doesn't work then you can shoot them, are you happy?" Mac snaps. Then there's the rumble of an engine and they both stop talking. Jack may be perfectly willing to argue with his partner, but he knows when to shut up.

They watch the three men who show up grab the bags and shove them in their own car. Mac pulls out his phone. "Oh shit. It's not sending."

"What?" Jack snaps. "Seriously?"

"I'm gonna have to move." Mac stands up, running toward the road.

"Wait, kid!" Jack dashes after him. He's gonna run out there and get himself killed. Mac races into the middle of the road, holding up his phone. Jack's right behind him, gun out, watching as the car wheels toward them.

"Got it! It went through!" Mac yells. Jack's not in the mood to be cheerful just yet. "Did you have your ringer on?"

"You ask me that now?" There's a brief moment where Jack realizes that these guys are really gonna be confused, because Mac's ringer on his phone is AC/DC's "TNT", what, it fits with the amount of times he blows something up or sets it on fire, and then the car fills with some sort of foam, spins off the road, and smashes into a tree.

What the hell? Man that was cool. "Yeah! Geekachu does it again!"

"What?" Mac says, turning around with a comically confused frown.

"If you were a Pokemon, that's what I'd call you. That or Nerdasaur."

"Jaaacckkk." The kid just shakes his head.

Jack runs toward the car, training his gun on the confused, foam-covered smugglers. "Don't move!" He sees Mac race off into the woods, and he thinks about yelling after him, but the kid's got to have a plan. And Jack's proven right when Mac returns with Valerie in tow, just as sirens cut through the misty night air.

Jack sees Mac shudder at the sound. It's not fair that this happens to him. It's not fair that he has to be afraid of people who are trying to help. Although Jack's not sure Mac's wrong about being worried about these particular cops. They weren't any too friendly with us the last time. They have it in for him. And they're not too much happier about out of towners.

Jack steps back when the officers run up to where he's holding the three men at gunpoint. He lowers his gun and raises his hands. "These are the men you want. They're smugglers."

"Then why are you the one pointing the gun at them?" Oh hell no. Jack's only met him once but he'd never be able to forget Donnie Sandoz's voice. Not when the last time he heard it, the man was insulting Mac.

"Because these are the criminals responsible for kidnapping Valerie Lawson."

"It looks like you two are the ones who have her." Val's huddling by Mac, staring at the officers reaching for Mac's arms and trying to cuff him. She won't let them pull her away from him.

"They're telling the truth! They helped me! Mac wouldn't hurt me!"

"Yeah, right. Dollars to donuts this is all the little jailbird's fault." Donnie gets right in Mac's face, just the way Jack imagines he used to in the halls. "What kinda trouble have you been causing, MacGyver? Seems like every time something bad's happened the past couple days, you've been right in the thick of it. Makes me wonder why everything started going wrong when you came back to town."

Mac cringes. "I swear, I just came to see Mr. Ericson. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I wasn't involved."

"Then what are you doing out here, with the kidnapped girl, a couple bags of drug money, and a gang of smugglers?"

"He was trying to do the right thing," Jack snaps. "He felt so damn guilty about what happened to the Lawson girl he wanted to help get her back. Lawson was being blackmailed into transporting the money for these guys." He skips over the part where it's been going on for a while. "Come on, can't you tell which side we're on? Those smugglers are all trapped in a crashed car full of one o' the kid's crazy science experiments."

"Yeah, well, the word of an out of towner means nothing to me." Sandoz grabs Mac, spinning him around and shoving him up against the green minivan, reaching for his cuffs. Jack sees the second Mac's eyes go wide with fear, the absolute terror of being pushed around by someone stronger and crueler. The kid's panicking, breath coming short and gasping and broken, shaking uncontrollably.

That's when Jack hauls off and punches Donnie Sandoz right in the nose.

…

MISSION CITY POLICE STATION

NOT EXACTLY THE BEST HOTEL IN TOWN

Mac really, really, wants to get out of here. Unfortunately, even though he's being let off the hook (Lawson flagged down a cop as well, and told them the whole story), he's terrified. Cage is sitting with him, and he's grateful to not be alone, but everything about being inside a police station is unsettling.

But he's not leaving without Jack. There wasn't really anything to charge Mac with, Lawson claims he forced Jack and the others to drive him and the money back to town when they came across him. Mac wanted to protest, but Lanie Mills, the officer interviewing him, shut that down fast, and off the record. Mac remembers fixing her old Harley she didn't want her dad to know about, when she was seventeen and he was eight. Now she's a sergeant in the Mission City PD. And maybe the only friend in it that Mac has.

"Lawson's probably going to get some leniency. Given that his daughter was under threat, his actions won't be viewed as severely as they would be otherwise. He's trying to help you, and you really should take it. You don't need anything more on your record." Mac's well aware of that. Penny's probably already going to veto any future trips when she gets the report that Mac's been taken into the station not once but twice on this trip. Please don't let her be really mad.

So Mac and Cage both walked out over an hour ago, charges cleared and nothing more than a slap on the wrist for being stupidly heroic and trying to do the cops' job for them. Unfortunately, Jack's situation isn't so easy to explain away. Given the fact that he actually punched an officer, and there are a couple other cops who can back that charge up, Jack's not getting off quite so easy. What are they going to do if they determine it's serious enough to charge him with assault? He doesn't want to see anything happen to Jack. No one else should be where I've been. Will they send him to prison? He doesn't think it would be quite as bad for Jack as it was for him, but Jack's more likely to say something stupid and piss off the wrong person and get killed. But that won't happen, right? He knows they're technically not legally allowed to operate on US soil, that's what got the FBI upset at them after the mess with Pena and the bomb in LA. Would the Phoenix be able to help Jack if he got charged? Or would they have to leave him to his fate?

He's too scared to ask anyone about it, even when Riley and Boze show up (with Thornton, who goes straight to the station office, a new rental car, and the news that Mr. Ericson's being discharged in the morning, he has a concussion but nothing too serious). He doesn't want to hear that Jack is going to pay for Mac's decision. He tried to warn me not to go after Val. He was worried about me getting in trouble with the police over it. And now he's the one who's being interrogated. And all because Jack tried to protect him. If he hadn't hit Donnie, he would have been let go with Sam and me.

Mac doesn't want to think about what would have happened if Jack hadn't stepped in, though. Donnie had been so distracted and angry he'd taken it out on Jack, manhandling him into the car and cuffing him harshly. But it meant he didn't keep shoving Mac around, didn't push him closer to the edge of a flashback. Donnie's cruel, but he'd never do that to me. But his hands were just as harsh, just as cruel. Mac hates that something as simple as that was enough to set him off. It's getting better, a week ago I might have actually had a breakdown right there.

He's about to have a panic attack right then and there, despite Cage's attempts to calm him down, when Jack steps out into the lobby. He's actually grinning, flexing his bruised fingers.

"Totally worth it."

"Worth getting an arrest on your record?" Riley hisses, low enough that Bozer, who's getting himself a third cup of coffee, can't hear. "Jack, you're here as Roger Preston. Anything you do goes on his record. What if word gets around that you got in legal trouble, that you got arrested? What if the court decides Mac needs a new lawyer? You don't think."

Jack grins. "Nothing's going on my record, sweetheart. Patty's taking care of that. And while she's at it she's getting Lawson some leniency too." He shrugs. "And there's lot of lawyers with much sleazier records than me who haven't gotten disbarred yet." Riley gives him an angry glare, but doesn't continue the argument. "You know you woulda done it if you were there."

A few minutes later, Thornton steps out of the office, her cold glare now directed at the team. But she doesn't say anything until she gets into the new rental car, very pointedly ignoring Jack's requests to be given the keys and drivers' seat. The moment they pull out of the parking lot, Thornton snaps.

"I swear to God, Jack, if I have to bail you out of one more mess…"

"Yeah, but Dana, we saved a kidnapped girl." Mac blinks, then remembers she has to be in character here. Bozer still doesn't know what we really are. Or who we really are.

"And three of you got arrested. Do you have any idea how much paperwork I have to do every time you idiots do something like this? And by the way, I got an invoice from the rental company for a totaled minivan? The office isn't paying for that."

"Oh, come on." Jack says. "It was damaged in the line of duty!"

Crammed in the back seat next to Mac, squashed in with Riley and Cage as well, Bozer mutters, "Your ice queen boss is kinda awesome. I can't believe she got you all out of there."

"It pays to have lawyer friends," Mac says. Honestly if Thornton ever quit the spy world, she'd be an awesome attorney.

"I heard that," Thornton calls back. "And if you think you can keep pulling stupid stunts and relying on me to get you out of them, you're sadly mistaken." But she's smiling a little. She

"I just need to make one stop first." Mac smiles when Jack glares at him. I know, I keep asking him to go out of his way for me when he's driving. But this is going to be worth it.

"Can we make one stop before we go home?" Mac asks. He hates to be that person, but he has one more thing he needs to do.

When he knocks on the door of Lawson's house, Val answers. "Thank you for helping my dad." Mr. Lawson is currently at the hospital, apparently he got a broken nose and a minor concussion from his accident. But Thornton assured Mac that he was going to get to go home as soon as he was discharged. He might end up with some probation time, but he won't be getting a jail sentence.

"My friends are good at that. We like helping people." Mac pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket. He scribbled down his phone number while he was sitting in the station waiting for Jack. "And we want to keep doing that. If you and your dad ever need anything, at all, call us, okay?" Valerie nods.

"And just for the record? That tree house is yours now; I called the people who own the property now and they said you could use it all you want," Mac says, grinning. "It needs a little work, but it's a great place to go and think. Because someday you're gonna understand why you can do what you do. But trust me, you need a safe place to experiment, and you need people who believe in you. So don't be afraid to ask Mr. Ericson for help, okay? Just because he's retiring doesn't mean he's going to stop being your teacher."

Valerie nods. "You really think I'm not just weird? That it's not something wrong with me?"

"Really. Don't let people make you hate what you can do, because it's amazing. And Valerie? Make sure your dad knows how much you care about him, okay? He really really loves you. And he's gonna be so proud of what you're gonna do."

"I know. He's gonna want to help me fix the tree house up," she says, eyes brightening. "He's good at fixing stuff."

Mac stands up quickly, before he starts to cry. "Yeah, he is. He's gonna love it. Just don't set something at school on fire, and you'll be fine, okay?"

I was worried about her. There's so much of myself there. So much potential, and so much to go wrong. But her dad cares about her. She's gonna be okay. He fights down the bitterness as he turns back to the car and his new family.

Sometimes, all people like Val and I need is someone to love them.

...

PAROLE OFFICER'S OFFICE

THIS IS GOING TO BE AN AWKWARD EXPLANATION

Mac figures the least he owes Penny is an explanation of what happened. She was so nice to let me go up for the retirement party, and then I screwed everything up. He really hopes she isn't mad. What if she decides trusting me was a mistake?

When he called to set up an appointment, she sounded a little cold when she heard who was on the line. But she did tell him he could come in on Monday to talk to her.

So now he and Bozer are back at the office. This time, Mac's in no mood to enjoy the cheerful music and decor. If she was going to send me back she would have. Right? He doesn't think this is bad enough to warrant sending him back to prison but he doesn't know. I'm not sure if it's bad enough that I just got hauled into the station on suspicion. Even though Patty got the charges dropped, she can't make police records completely disappear. Not if it's not an officially sanctioned mission. At least not fast enough to fix this.

Penny really liked Mac. She acted like he was someone she really respected and trusted. And now he ruined it. Is she going to start acting like Hammond now? Suspicious of everything I do? Watching my every move like a hawk? If he's messed everything up for himself again, maybe he won't be allowed on field missions anymore. I don't want to work with R&D again. Jill was nice but I can't deal with Dr. Barstow. I just want to stay with Jack and Riley.

By the time the appointment is set for, he thinks he might throw up. I'm probably never gonna want to smell cinnamon pinecones again.

When he walks into the office, Penny's got yet another wildly colored sweater, and a small frown. Mac sits down, he doesn't think he can trust his legs at this point.

"Ms. Parker, I'm really sorry for what happened this weekend. I know you thought you could trust me, and I'm sorry I let you down." Mac thinks the worst part about this is knowing he's disappointed her. She said she wouldn't do this for everyone. She thought I was different, that she could trust me. And then I went and made a giant mess of everything.

"I don't know what to think," Penny says. "Your behavior is...well, quite frankly, I have no idea what happened this weekend. I'm not sure I want to." She leans on her desk, sighing. "This isn't even close to the first time I've okayed a parole exception only to get a police report two days later. But this one is a first."

"How so?" Mac's almost afraid to ask.

"This is the first time the report says my parolee was trying to stop a crime." Penny looks up. "And then I get a second report that says you stopped a ring of drug smugglers and kidnappers with something from a sixth grade science experiment." She shakes her head.

"I'm so sorry." Mac whispers. I made such a horrible mess of things. I should have listened to Jack. He can't say he does regret what they did, but this is bad. This is so bad.

"What are you sorry for? Doing the right thing? Saving a child?" Mac blinks. Is she serious? "Yes, you're making me more work. But at the end of the day you made sure a little girl went home to her family." Mac's not sure he's not dreaming.

"Why aren't you upset?"

"Because of this." Penny slides a paper across the table. It's a file of newspaper clippings from the past few years. The front pages are splashed with the headlines Mac remembers showing Bozer when he got home from work, "Local Vigilante Prevents Officer Shooting". "Phoenix Stops Merida Cartel Shipment". "Cartel Crime Rates Fall as Phoenix's Involvement Soars." And then the one he wishes didn't exist. "Vigilante Phoenix Implicated in Warehouse Bombing and Civilian Death". There's one more below it. "Phoenix Unmasked: Former Vigilante Angus MacGyver Charged with Terrorism and Murder".

"I knew who you were the second you walked into my office. Everyone in LA knows," Penny says. "I never believed what they said about you, afterward. I was almost burnt out of my Criminal Justice when you started. Everything I saw made me think I was never going to be able to to anything worthwhile. That I was wasting my time thinking I could change the world; that one person wasn't going to have any impact. And then I started hearing about the Phoenix. And I realized that the only way I was going to be a useless cog was if I let myself. Because there were still people in the world who chose to be heroes, and I could be one of them."

He doesn't know what else to say to that. "And I don't want to be the reason someone else doesn't get to see someone they love come home." She sets the paper carefully back in a drawer. "Don't stop being a hero on my account."