Mac sat across from their subject, leaning back in his chair. To outside observers passing by the one-way glass in the Observation Room his posture looked casual, unconcerned. To Jack, he could see Mac's desire to be as physically far away from Murdoc as possible while still doing the job. Of course, Jack was also thinking that he never had to really worry about Mac holding his own. Murdoc was still pretty beat up, even a couple of weeks out from his encounter with Mac, with yellowing bruises and a couple sets of stitches that still needed to come out, not to mention a nose that needed the attention of a good plastic surgeon to get it back into its proper shape. Jack just gave him another tight smile. "Is this gonna be a starin' contest? Because I always win at those. Ask anybody."

Mac glanced at Jack and an almost-smile touched his eyes. "Who left the note? And why did they do it?"

"My dear boy," the man paused, reveling in the young agent's look of discomfort. "Angus," he paused again for the same reason, tasting the name and enjoying the way those blue eyes narrowed like the sound pained him. Since he had revealed to his therapist in the files the Organization obtained that he didn't go by his first name because it reminded him painfully of his mother and of the life his family had before her death, Murdoc was always careful to use it, the sharp edges of it, anyway. "You know who that note had to be from. But it is awfully intriguing that it got there, isn't it?"

"I know it's from you. Your handwriting. Your MO, no question. But you're here. And you and your sister more or less sent us there. Why?"

"You know how I love my little games, Angus."

Mac nodded. "And you must know that I … I'm tired of playing."

He pinned Murdoc with a stare the killer should have been more than familiar with. It was the same one he'd been wearing right before he'd nearly choked him all those months ago. Instead of familiar satisfaction, Murdoc shifted uncomfortably. "Well," he said slowly. "One does tire of losing, I suppose."

Mac smirked (although anyone could see it was a real effort). "You'll have to let me know what it's like sometime."

Jack snickered. The kid was bringing the snark hard today. Jack approved. Humor, even the mean-spirited sarcastic kind, was a better way to deal with facing Murdoc than Mac's more typical introspective method that just put him more into his own head. "Yeah, man," Jack drawled. "All Mac does is kick your ass. Ain't you tired a that yet?"

The man just blinked slowly, his eyes traveling over Mac, taking his measure. "Indeed," he said softly. "My whole situation must trouble you deeply, a problem solver like you." He met Mac's eyes for a minute, then looked away.

"I think you're simpler than you would have us believe," Mac said cooly, and the eyes across from him narrowed, the expression darkened.

"I think I'm like an unsolvable riddle. Like in Alice in Wonderland. I'm the raven. Just this dark inexplicable thing." Something like amusement cross Mac's face and the man couldn't quite help himself. "You can't solve me any more than Alice could solve the riddle. Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

Jack frowned at the grin that flashed across Mac's face. "Because one is 'nevar' backward and the other is for words," he answered simply, with no hesitation.

The man's mouth dropped slightly at the quick response. "But … That's … oh, that's quite good. I've never heard that one!" There was some vague genuine amusement on the face.

Mac lifted his eyes steadily to meet the gaze of their subject. "You're not him."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You should," Mac said quietly. "You should practice begging something. Because you're not Murdoc. And Matty will authorize whatever Jack wants to do to find out who you really are."

"Of course, I'm ..!"

"Your eyes aren't the right color," Mac said, almost with pity.

"I have brown eyes, just like I always have!" the man defended.

Jack was studying Mac carefully. Was this a drug flashback or was the kid on to something? "Mac ..?" he began.

"Look, Jack, really look at him. There're these little flecks of green in his eyes, almost like Ri has, or like the gold in yours …" Mac trailed off. Jack thought to himself he'd better look closer because his partner never missed a trick and had pattern recognition that put both computers and prize German Shepherds to shame.

"Well … I'll be damned," Jack murmured after a minute.

"I'm … I'm me!" came the heated reply. "Of course I am, don't you even ..?"

Mac smiled, ever so slightly. "Listen man, I've looked into those shark's eyes before. They're all cold and dark with nothing moving in them but shadow and even humor looks like pain. Your eyes aren't like that." Mac paused dramatically. "So, who are you, really?"

"Grasping at straws; poor Angus. You can see for yourself who I am."

Mac nodded slowly. "A brother. Very like, but not identical. Younger. At first I thought it was the beating you took, but … When I saw two of you for a second in Sacramento … I thought it was the drugs, but there really were two of you."

The man's eyes grew rounder, and he almost shrunk back from the intensity of the blue gaze on his face, taking in every detail, every imperfection. "It was the drugs," the man insisted, but his voice wavered this time, lost some of the perfectly rehearsed menace.

Mac glanced at his partner. "What do you think, Jack?"

Jack gave the prisoner a cold smile, allowing his eyes to harden. "I think you're onto somethin'." The man opposite them flinched a little at the tone of Jack's voice. "Hey, there, Director Webber?"

"Yes, Agent Dalton," came the reply over the speakers in the room.

"You prepared to authorize some quality alone time with this prisoner for yours truly."

"One moment." There was a pause. "Oversight is willing to authorize that, yes."

The last of the color drained from their prisoner's face, making his fading bruises stand out.

Mac and Jack stood at the same time. Jack gave the man in the chair an almost pitying look. "Have someone move him downstairs," Jack said with an icy confidence that made even Mac give him a second look. He didn't dust off that particular voice and persona very often.

"Wait!" the man snapped. "I'm Murdoc. I can prove it to you." His eyes moved around the room like he was trying to settle on something. "I shot Patricia Thornton … And I did it just to get under your skin."

Mac shook his head. "Shooting the Director of Operations of the clandestine government organization your little terrorist group most wants to bring down isn't exactly a piece of knowledge I would expect any member of it not to have."

The man swallowed. "I kidnapped your Dad … and your biological father right along with him." This time he managed to give them both a cool speculative look.

Mac shook his head. "Common knowledge at Phoenix and with the Organization." Then Mac rolled his eyes. "And, you know, good for you for figuring out that I'm close to the guy who's been watching my back for pushing a decade. That's a real leap."

Two guards had arrived at the door to take him downstairs for less formal, and probably much more effective, questioning with Jack.

Ignoring the prisoner for a moment, Mac looked at Jack. "What're your plans?"

"Oh, I was gonna get one of our buddies from Medical to dose this bastard with some of the stuff they used on you and see how his brain likes it."

Mac nodded, as their prisoner was clearly reaching his own breaking point already. "That seems reasonable. I mean, it was designed to work on someone well-trained to resist interrogation, so even if he has been … and … my guess is that he hasn't, not extensively anyway … it should get us what we need without too many hours wasted," Mac offered blandly, like this was the sort of conversation they had every day.

"What about you?" Jack asked, like they were alone in the room.

"I was going to get Riley digging in to the family angle, see what's out there."

Jack motioned for the two guards to come into the room. He and Mac watched as they shackled their subject for transport to the more secluded interrogation rooms. Jack gave the man a perfectly predatory smile as he walked by. Then he reached out and squeezed his shoulder, right at the top where the nerve bundle was closest to the surface. He was gratified to see the man's eyes narrow. "Say," Jack said with real anticipation in his voice. "I wonder if that whole not being able to feel pain thing is genetic. Like, can you? Feel pain, I mean," Jack clarified with something like pleasure in his voice.

The man braced himself against the door suddenly resisting being led away. "Fine. I'm not Murdoc. I admit it. And I'm willing to talk. For a price."

Jack shook his head with another menacing grin. "I don't make deals with stone cold killers, or their lookalike brothers who help them. Especially when those selfsame assholes have beat up and drugged my partner, played mind games with my team. Get him downstairs," he ordered the guard closest to him. "I'll be right down. I just need to stop off and ask a favor at Medical."

Mac gave Jack a quick approving raise of his eyebrows and turned toward their prisoner. "I'm traditionally a lot less interested in beating the hell out of drugged prisoners than either you or my partner. I might be persuaded to work on some sort of deal …" He trailed off with a reserved expression on his face, not quite looking at Jack.

The man sagged visibly with relief at even the chance. He spoke all in one breath, desperate to try to negotiate before he was left alone with any of Phoenix's interrogation squad, most of all Jack Dalton, who his brother liked to disparage to his young blond mark, but who had a more than healthy respect for the man's skill and dedication. "My name is Ashton Cooke. The man you know as Murdoc is my brother … Andrew." Our birth name was Conrad, but that was a fake name, too. I don't know what our real family name is. Our parents … died … When Katie … that's our sister … I don't know how much she's told you … Anyway, when we were very small. The little boy you thought belonged to Drew, belongs to me. That's my son, Kyle. I want witness protection for me, for Katie, and for Kyle and I swear I'll tell you everything I know about my brother and the people he works for."

Mac smiled and gave a short nod to the guards who started leading the man away again. He called after them, "I'll see if I can work with that. Jack will let you know when he meets you downstairs."

Both men leaned up against the wall as the prisoner disappeared around the corner, still trying to convince someone to listen to him. Mac sighed. "That was not how I was expecting this to go."

"Creepy Dude's got sibs? Yeah. Unwelcome information for the gene pool, if not for us."

This time Mac chuckled a little. "Yeah, well, it looks like interrogation will actually get us somewhere."

Jack nodded. "Seems like."

"What are you going to do?"

"Make sure he's properly motivated to be completely truthful."

"How's that?"

"I thought maybe I'd scare him a little more before offering him the protection he wants."

"You're gonna scare him?" Mac asked wryly, thinking the man had lived with Murdoc so scary had to be a relative term.

"Pain is scary," Jack answered with a slight smirk, and headed toward the elevator, still fully intending to stop off at Medical, just so he had that as a threat, if nothing else. He grinned when Mac got on the elevator with him and pushed the button for the Medical floor. "You gonna come with me and be scary? 'Cause I don't want to burst your bubble, but you don't do so hot at that."

"I was just keeping you company."

"Keeping me company between here and the basement." He raised an eyebrow.

Mac shook his head. "Just as far as Medical. Mel's getting off work. I thought I'd buy her some dinner while you scare a guy."

Jack looked him over for the long minute between the floors. When the doors opened Mel was walking their way and Mac's face split into an immediate grin as he stepped of the elevator to meet her.

"Good," Jack said quietly, to no one in particular.