Chapter 13
A/N- Sorry this is taking so long. Long Covid is a real bitch. And that's vaxxed and boosted. But I will get us there eventually. Be smart and stay safe out there, fic fam.
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Mac was regretting his refusal of any pain medication before his hasty exit from the hospital. He'd been worried it would make his head fuzzy. But now pain was causing the same problem.
Steve held out two pills and a water bottle from his spot in the back of the agency SUV Matty had immediately dispatched when they called.
"I don't—"
"It's Tylenol. So zip it and take them. You're no good to Jack like this, buddy."
Mac glanced at Elliot, who'd booted the Phoenix driver, more or less acting like a senior agent employed by the organization, and assigning him to take Sully back to Phoenix. "I'm going to tell you what I told you back at the hospital. If you're going to insist that we can't help Jack without you, take the damned Tylenol. Because sweating and shaking isn't what I deem a viable offense."
Mac rolled his eyes but accepted the meds and the cold water. He winced when he swallowed, but managed, "Thanks." He pointed, "Next left."
"You sure that's where he took him, Mac?" Riley asked, her expression pensive.
Mac grimaced. "That's got to be it. 'All the old familiar places.'" Mac made another face, one that wanted to be as anxious as Riley's but he caught himself and smoothed his features. "He'd know going back to his little torture chamber would piss off and probably terrify Jack." Mac paused for a deep breath. "And he'd think it would give him a psychological advantage over me to have to meet him there."
"Will it?" Riley asked, remembering the incident and the aftermath with a shiver.
Mac put on a convincing smirk. "Like hell. Payback's a bitch. At a minimum I should get to use my corkscrew on his anticubital fossa."
"I have no idea what that means, but…" Riley managed a little smile. "We've got a lot of things to pay him back for." She glanced between Steve and Elliot. "So if one of you gets a clear shot, make sure it won't kill him too quick."
Elliot gave her a cocky smile. "A gutshot on behalf of the lady. I'll make sure I don't miss."
"Here." Mac's voice cracked and he was a hundred percent fine with everyone thinking it was his fresh lack of tonsils. But just looking at the warehouse raised gooseflesh all over his arms and neck.
They parked the RV so they could approach from the windowless side of the building. As they climbed out of the SUV, Steve stopped Mac with a hand on his shoulder while Riley used binoculars to make sure Murdoc wasn't about to rain down Hell from above.
"What?"
"Spit."
"Huh?"
"Spit on the ground so we know you're not already bleeding, Elliot explained.
Mac raised an eyebrow and Steve gave a little shake of his head. "I figure if I crack out my pen light and tell you to say 'Ah' you'd drop me like a sack of shit given the look in your eyes. So, go on and spit."
Mac rolled his eyes, but complied. "Satisfied?"
Steve grinned. "Not yet. We haven't kicked Murdoc's ass and got you home without hemorrhaging yet, but you're not bleeding now, so I'm one step closer."
Ri tossed the binoculars back in the SUV and to Mac's great surprise drew a nine millimeter he recognized as one of Jack's out of her bag and chambered a round.
"Since when do you—"
"I've been carrying for a while, Mac. Missions go sideways way too often for me to be unarmed tech support. Jack gave me this for my birthday and if I can drop a cap in Murdoc for you guys, it'd be my genuine pleasure," she finished with a fair approximation of Jack's drawl.
Mac swayed and put a hand on his door, swearing softly. "If all of you wanna go ahead and shoot him, I'd consider it a great personal favor." Then he mumbled almost under his breath. "I'm sick of this shit."
As they made their way to one of the doors of the warehouse, Mac let the armed and in full control of all their faculties due to not still being half full of anesthesia and in what even he would acknowledge was a decent amount of pain. He'd read this surgery was a horror show for adults, and right now he felt like every website he'd been to had been underselling it. But as lousy as he felt, he did his part as the team's rear security, scanning the surrounding roofs and checking their six regularly.
When they got to the door, it was half open. They all exchanged a look. Then Elliot went in, followed by Steve. After calls of, "Clear," rang out, Mac followed, with Riley at his side.
A quick sweep revealed no sign of Murdoc, save the dripping dark red spray painted, "I'll be seeing you," on the far wall.
"In all the old familiar places," Mac murmured. Because it had now been hours since Riley had last see Jack, and with every second that ticked by Mac became increasingly sure Murdoc did not intend to let Jack live, without thinking, he shouted, "JACK!" followed quickly by, "MURDOC!!!" which is was just a quickly followed by a whispered, "Fuck," because he tasted blood, and on top of that, there was no answer but the slight echo of his hoarse bellow. He swallowed several times, waited a beat, then spat on the floor. Riley, looked at him wide eyed. "Sorry. Gross, I know."
Riley rolled her eyes and put a hand on his arm. "Don't be stupid. Are you okay?"
He squinted at the floor. "Apparently."
Elliot and Steve let Mac's display of concern on his own behalf pass. "Looks like there's nothing new here," Elliot observed. Mac flashed him a hard look. "I've been through the file, obviously."
"Obviously," Mac said, half furious, half amused. "We need to um … need to go…"
"Into the room where Murdoc tortured you and planned to kill you?" Riley asked mildly. "Why?"
"Because there's nothing here."
"So, what does—"
"There's something here, even if Jack isn't."
Without further discussion, they all pulled out small flashlights and this time Mac took the lead. From memory he found the light switch and flipped it, illuminating the whole place properly.
He put his flashlight away, "Look," he pointed at the floor.
Wet footprints in several directions, and two wet narrow strips on either side of the footprints.
"What is that?" Riley frowned.
"Wheelchair," answered Steve, Mac, and Elliot almost simultaneously.
Mac jogged over to the door of the room Murdoc had tortured him, still off it's hinges from his escape several years ago. He ignored everyone yelling at him about it, and kept up the pace down into the dank room he'd have recognized by smell if not by sight.
"What the hell?" Riley said from the top of the stairs.
He shared her confusion. Phoenix had cleaned the whole place out in collecting evidence. But a chair, exactly like the one he'd been bound to, sat in the middle of the floor, another chair across from it, like Murdoc's had been when he drove that IV needle in so deep it had blown the vein pretty badly. Dr. Patel had fussed over it for weeks. And speaking of, a pair of cuffs dangled from each arm of the chair and an IV bag, line, and ill-purposed butterfly needle set the scene so perfectly, Mac shivered.
He heard the others join him as he stepped closer to the chair. The needle was even bent and bloody just like he'd left it. His hand strayed to the crook of his arm with the memory of pain. He took a step closer anyway.
"Mac?" Riley asked hesitantly.
He leaned over about to pick up what looked like an old fashioned flip phone off the seat. Before he could touch it, a voice blared, echoing off the walls, "MacGyver, come out and play-ay!" It repeated several times, and just like it had several years ago it sent his heart racing and his head swimming.
He flinched and spun at the added sound of boot clad feet at the top of the stairs. "Dad? What're you doing here?"
James MacGyver pulled out his pocket knife and clipped a wire. "For starters I'm disconnecting the sound system Murdoc rigged to get in your head."
Mac half smiled. "Thanks." Then he frowned. "And after starters?"
"Ordering you home to let the rest of us deal with this." James jogged down the steps to face Mac. "Matty's sending a car."
"Dad, you and I both know that's not gonna happen."
"You mean you're not going to obey a direct order straight from the top?" James shook his head. "I'm extremely shocked."
Mac might have made some reply, but the phone in the chair began ringing. Instinctively, he picked it up, "Murdoc, I swear—"
"Mac, it's me," said the very shaky, but also very welcome voice of Jack Dalton.
"Jack! Are you okay? Where are you? Where's Murdoc?"
A beat of silence was followed by the oily voice of Murdoc replacing Jack's. "Why Angus, I'm right here. I hate to see you looking so pale. You really should probably be home in bed."
Mac spun in a circle, looking around frantically. Then he spotted the overhead camera. "I'm not in the mood for your games, Murdoc," he said, but his voice caught, this time not with anger, or any other emotion, but simple pain from talking and doing far too much. He gently cleared his throat. "What do you want this time?"
"You don't sound well, Angus. Put Papa Bear on the phone."
"Murdoc," Mac began with a warning.
"Now, Angus, or I may get very cross." A cry of pain that was very recognizably Jack followed.
"Stop!" He handed the phone to his father, his blue eyes nearly as wide and afraid as he'd been his first time in this room.
"Murdoc." James said stiffly.
Mac watched for the next minute or so as his father slowly paled, almost completely forgetting there were others in the room.
"Understood." James closed the phone. He looked around the room at everyone, though he seemed to be avoiding Mac's eyes. "It seems Murdoc has a new partner. They have Jack … as a bargaining chip."
"Where is he?" Riley demanded.
"Outside Mexico City. And we're on a clock."
Mac squared his shoulders and practically forced eye contact with his father. "I suppose you're going to try to order me home again?"
"I wish I could, frankly," James said, his face creased into an expression Mac was sure he'd seen before, but couldn't name. "They're demanding our presence together, actually."
"They?"
James swallowed hard. His eyes flicked to Mac's, then away again. He brushed between Mac and Riley and started up the stairs, pulling out his cell phone. "Matty, I'm going to need the jet ready for wheels up in twenty."
"Dad!" Mac demanded.
His father turned, and this time Mac knew the expression this time. Guilt, guilt and regret. "Murdoc is working with Jonah Walsh."