i am SO nervous to be tackling this major of a storyline, i hope i did it justice! some things are the same, some are very different, overall it's some of my favorite work i've done.

bear with me on the logistics of like, bombs and stuff. i'm studying law not explosives.


"Charlie?"

The name and the question hang together in the air as Mac stands, still rooted to the ground, staring at the strange man he obviously recognizes. Charlie, Riley would guess, given context clues, looks over and his face breaks into a wide grin.

"Mac! They told me you'd be back soon!"

Something about Charlie reacting to his presence seems to jolt Mac into action, be it confirmation that the man is actually here or what, Riley doesn't know. Whatever the reason may be, it does the trick, and Mac walks over to him with steps that quicken almost to a run by the time he reaches who Riley is now assuming to be an old friend. They meet each other in the middle, Mac's arms locking around Charlie's shoulders in a fierce hug, returned just as strongly, a fraction of a turn accompanying the embrace like Charlie was an inch from actually picking him up and spinning him around.

"It's damn good to see you," Riley hears Charlie say, voice muffled by the shock of blond hair partially obscuring his face.

Mac doesn't respond verbally, instead pulling one hand away from Charlie's back to ball into a fist and thump his shoulderblade before returning to its original spot. It's a shockingly open display for Mac, to hug someone like that and in the middle of DXS to boot, and Riley finds herself staring blatantly. A glance to her side shows Jack to be doing the same thing, clearly not having any better an idea of who this guy is than she's got. Nobody is there to explain what's going on, so the two of them are left to just wait for the several long seconds that pass before Mac and Charlie release each other, and someone says something containing useful information.

"I thought you were working at the New York office?" Mac asks once he's stepped back, though Charlie still keeps ahold of his shoulders for a moment, studying his face with a look Riley can't quite get a read on. Whatever he sees there, it's unclear if he's satisfied with it, but he does get his answer, given he lets Mac go completely and tucks his hands into his pockets, posture casual when he responds.

"Yeah, well, I was in town at a conference, I was supposed to be on a panel on time-delays when I got a call. Local guys were dealing with a suspicious package outside the Japanese consulate, they had some important diplomat in town for a meeting and he was getting a tour. When they saw what they were dealing with they called me."

Now, Riley feels like she has at least a little more information, gleaning what she can from what Charlie is saying. His shirt says FBI Bomb Analytics, so New York must mean the New York FBI field office, and he'd been in town on business, going by what he's said about the conference. Then there was an incident involving a bomb, one unique enough to warrant calling in a specific person, and Charlie is good enough at what he does to be that person. And he knows Mac. Very well, judging by the way they'd greeted each other.

"Look," Charlie sighs after a moment. The forced casualness has gone brittle at the edges and Riley, from where she hangs back, quiet and out of the way, observing with Jack, can see the same stiffness begin to seep into Mac at his tone. "I'll get right to it. We need to deal with this as fast as possible so we can talk in the car, but the local bomb squad has the device, and I need your eyes on it."

"Why my eyes?" The way Mac asks the question, slow and suspicious and a little sickened, leads Riley to believe he knows exactly what's coming next.

Despite this, when the answer comes, it still hits Mac like he's been shot.

"It's PETN, Mac. The explosive compound is pure PETN."

Any joy Mac had felt at seeing Charlie disappears from his face so fast that it's like Riley blinks and it's gone. His eyes have gone wide and cheeks pale, mouth slightly open and his hands at his sides suddenly shook by one quick, strong tremor. It appears for all the world like Mac is about to collapse into a heap on the ground at any moment, and the thought ignites a spark in Riley, sending her forward.

When she reaches him, Riley closes a hand around his upper arm, both to help ensure he stays upright and to remind him that they're here with him. It takes every ounce of self control she has not to go farther, to pull Mac behind her and put herself between him and Charlie. The fact that what he'd said had prompted such a strong reaction from Mac has stoked to life a roaring, protective fire in her chest, and she's sure it's burning in her eyes too as she stares straight at him. It doesn't help that she has no idea what it meant - PETN is a term she's never come across before.

The only thing preventing her from acting on this is the memory of just moments before, how Mac had, once he'd gotten over his initial shock of seeing Charlie there, hugged him without hesitation or restraint. The list of people Mac will let touch him like that, never mind initiate contact with, is very, very short, and Riley views her position on it as something of a sacred privilege - she hasn't even seen him hug Jack yet, though she suspects there's more behind that than simple skittishness around being touched. If Charlie is someone Mac is that comfortable with, he can't be a threat.

"What's going on here?" Jack asks from Mac's other side, and Riley nods sharply. She too would like to know the answer to that.

Mac shifts slightly under Riley's hand, weight moving from foot to foot as he clears his throat and seems to be attempting to wrestle back some measure of composure. When he finds it, he clears his throat again and says, "Sorry, uh, I should've- Guys, this is Charlie Robinson, old friend, we did some- some training together, when I first started." He indicates Riley, who's still holding onto his arm, saying to Charlie, "This is Riley Davis, she's our new computer analyst, and," he points towards his other side, "this is Jack Dalton. He's my partner."

"Your partner, huh," Charlie repeats with a flat tone, eyes narrowed and calculating as he looks at Jack.

It doesn't seem like an explanation he's happy about, and the reaction only makes Riley even more mystefied than ever. She isn't the only one who notices, though, and Mac is quick to cut in.

"No, he's- Jack's a good guy. He's not the same, I promise, this isn't like…" Mac trails off, looking from Charlie, to Jack, and back to Charlie again, like he's unable to find the words he's looking for to explain what this partnership 'isn't like', whatever history with his previous partners is apparently resulting in Charlie taking an immediate dislike to anyone holding the role. "He's good. You can trust him."

It's a strong statement, coming from Mac, and Charlie relaxes after another long moment of silence, nodding and breaking eye contact with Jack. Minutes later, she and Jack are sitting in the backseat of a car, while Charlie and Mac sit up front, all of them headed towards the Los Angeles Bomb Squad's office. As he drives, Charlie explains what they're dealing with, the bomb they'd found outside the Japanese consulate. It's been transported to the office after the first techs to arrive followed procedure to deactivate it, but the internal workings have yet to be closely examined. After they'd gotten a good look inside the thing, they'd called Charlie, who'd immediately gone to DXS in search of Mac as soon as he put together what the device had been made out of - that word Riley hadn't recognized, PETN.

"I don't have to spell out for you what this means," Charlie says when he finishes his explanation, turning into the parking lot of the building that houses the LAPD's bomb squad. Mac shakes his head, and just as she's about to pipe up, Jack acts first and says what's on Riley's mind for her.

"You kinda do for us, though, what the hell is going on?"

"The Ghost is back." Mac is the one who says it, voice soft and hollow. The words sound like they hurt him to say, and Riley feels a chill go down her spine.

"The Ghost," Jack repeats. "Please tell me you don't mean the rogue bomber who's on the FBI's most wanted list and has an Interpol Red Notice out on him." The expression on Mac's face from where he's turned around in his seat, looking back at them, is enough of an answer on its own, even without the short nod. "Are you serious? You've had a run-in with the Ghost, and this is the first I'm hearing of it?"

Instead of answering, Mac shoves the car door open and gets out, shutting it behind him with slightly more force than strictly necessary. Charlie doesn't elaborate either, just sends a long look into the backseat. He opens his mouth like he's about to say something, then thinks better of it and just shakes his head, following Mac out of the car.

Jack, still staring out the window at Mac's swiftly leaving figure, looks guilty. Riley has to admit there were probably more delicate ways to have phrased that question, but it's not like there's anything they can do about the misstep now, and so she elbows him and gestures towards the door. They make it inside just in time to see Mac and Charlie disappear into the room where the bomb is evidently waiting for them. Just as Jack is about to open the door, the receptionist catches up to them and tells them, in a sheepish voice, that they're not allowed inside.

This leaves them relegated to waiting in a dimly lit, sparsely furnished hallway while Mac and Charlie suit up and go inside to take a look at the bomb. Waiting and Riley have never exactly been good friends, and today is no exception. She feels the empty silence between her and Jack push down on her shoulders, and she jumps up off the hall bench to try and shake it off, beginning to page the length of the floor.

"There's more to this than he's telling us," she says eventually, unable to help herself.

"Yeah, there is," Jack agrees. He doesn't ask who she means - he doesn't have to. It's pretty obvious. "And we're not gonna make him."

She looks at him, surprised at the calm tone of his voice. She'd have expected him to be a little more worked up about all of this - he doesn't handle not having the entire picture any better than she does. A look at his face tells her that while he may have sounded calm, it was more likely resignation she was hearing, exhausted resignation. Jack hates this as much as she does, but he's also right. They can't make him tell them anything, not just because Mac has proven himself to be as stubborn as he is smart, but because to try would be a violation of trust they can't afford to risk.

With a sigh, Riley drops back down onto the bench next to Jack. For what feels like a long time but is, really, according to her phone, about four minutes, nothing happens. No updates come out of the room, and there are no windows by which to see into it, and Riley feels like she's going stir-crazy. She's in the middle of wishing something interesting would happen if just to take her mind off the deepening spiral her thoughts are going down thinking about just how messed up Mac is over this 'Ghost' person, when the door flies open.

In a blur of forest-green bomb disposal equipment and frantic movements, Mac and Charlie bolt past her and Jack, sprinting for the front of the building. Riley is on her feet in an instant, Jack right behind her, both of them following the running pair out of the building and into the parking lot outside. Watching with horrified fascination, Riley sees Charlie pull up a manhole cover, Mac dumping something down it, then proceeding to drag a dumpster over the top of it and hotwire a car to put that over the top of the dumpster lid.

There's just enough time before the bomb detonates beneath the dumpster for Riley to think that whoever the owner of the early model silver Toyota Camry is, they're about to have a really bad afternoon.

The explanation Riley and Jack recieve for what happened is truncated and difficult to understand, both of them talking over each other and oscillating between trying to keep things in simple layman's terms and using jargon Riley, as a computer rather than a bomb person, has trouble following. Essentially, she pieces out that this bomb was built of a very specific, very strong reactive agent, and contained a secondary device on the inside of it. A kind of failsafe that was built in to ensure that, even if the main explosive was diffused, there would still be massive casualties if anyone was around when the secondary was activated.

"It means we were right," Mac says at the conclusion of the explanation. There's an odd glint in his eye, a vacancy in his expression indicating that he's standing in front of them, he's talking, but he's not entirely there. Part of him is somewhere else, somewhere they can't reach him. "The Ghost is back."

Unable to explain the impulse that sends her focus downwards, Riley notices his hands, hanging at his sides, and the way they're shaking, ever so slightly.

Apparently, Charlie has noticed this too. He reaches out, his own hand curling around Mac's forearm and pulling him gently away, saying, "Okay. Come here for a second." Looking over Mac's shoulder when Jack takes an abrupt step forward, maintaining his initial distance from Mac, Charlie says, slightly louder, "I just need a word with Mac here real quick, then he's all yours, 'kay?"

To his credit, Jack just nods, folding his arms and stepping back again.

They're only a step away, shoulders turned in some semblance of privacy, but Riley can hear pretty clearly what it is Charlie says next.

"Listen, I know what this has dragged up," he tells Mac, quiet and sad. "I know what's going on in your head, kid. Just. Go home. Get some sleep tonight, we'll take up the investigation in the morning, okay? I'll call you if I need you."

Personally, Riley thinks it's a great idea. Whatever Charlie is referring to that this bomb has 'dragged up, it's bad, and it's tearing Mac apart inside. She can see it, and she wants to help, knows Jack does too, but there's nothing they can do standing here outside the LAPD bomb squad office. Going home sounds like an excellent plan. Mac doesn't seem to agree. He's already shaking his head before Charlie has finished talking, and when he answers, it's too soft for Riley to make out.

They go back and forth for a minute, Mac and Charlie, arguing quietly about sending Mac home, and Riley only catches one word before Mac finally agrees. She thinks it's a name - it sounded like Al.

Before they take their leave, Charlie stops Mac, pulling him once more into a fierce hug. Mac returns it just as tightly, and Riley could swear she sees a tremor going through his back under his friend's hand. Something is very wrong with Mac, and she has no idea what it is. The thought dogs her as she watches Charlie let Mac go, giving his shoulder a quick, gentle shake before going back inside. There's something going on here, and not knowing what it is eats her alive.

With Charlie back in the building and Mac refusing to look either of them in the eye, the team stands there on the sidewalk for several long, empty seconds. The day shines bright and beautiful around them, a commotion in the near distance audible from the bomb squad guys dealing with the cleanup from the explosive that went off under the dumpster and car. Riley wonders which one of them is going to get up the nerve to ask it first, picking at the seam of her pants with one fingernail as she tries to talk herself into it.

Jack beats her to it when he asks, softer than Riley remembers hearing him talk since she was twelve years old, "Mac, who is Al?"

It's amazing that Mac can hear him at all over the rushing sound in his ears, like the noise you hear when you listen hard to the inside of a shell. The sound of your own pulse, blood throbbing through your head, faint tinnitus in the background behind it.

Was. For a split second Mac almost corrects Jack, changes the 'is' to 'was,' who was Al, because Al isn't any more, hasn't been for years. Hasn't been since Mac got him killed. He doesn't want to tell them at the same time he knows he has to, both because of the new mission handed to them by Charlie and because they need to know. If this team, whatever this is beyond that that's forming between them is to keep going, is to be honest and genuine and open as it has to be if it's going to survive, they need to know what happened.

"I can't go home," is what he finally says, and he's proud of how his voice barely shakes. They both frown at him, and Mac shakes his head, insisting again, "We have to go somewhere, but it can't be DXS and it can't be home, because Bozer might be there, and if he's home and I have to talk to him, I- If I see Bozer right now, like this, I'll break and I'll tell him everything. I can't lie to him like this so you have to take me- we have to go somewhere else."

They end up at Riley's apartment. Jack walks just a step behind him and to his right like he thinks Mac is going to collapse at any moment, and the hovering would be maddeningly annoying were it not for the intent behind it, the protectiveness Mac can feel radiating from the man behind him. He sits on Riley's couch, staring at the countertops of her kitchen across the semi-open floor plan of her apartment, and tries to figure out how to say any of this without losing his cool entirely, breaking down right there in front of them.

To his right on the couch is Jack, and perched on the edge of the coffee table to his left is Riley, and neither of them is saying anything. They're waiting, patiently, for Mac to start talking, and eventually, he does. Piece by piece, the whole story comes out.

Alfred Peña had been working with EOD when he'd been recruited by James MacGyver, some time before Mac officially signed on with DXS. He'd been highly skilled and even more highly praised by those who worked with him, commending his cool under pressure, his firm but friendly demeanor, and his knack for being able to break even the most complex procedure down into its simplest components. It was for his experience as an EOD training officer that he was tapped for a special assignment - to be the partner and assist with the training of the newest field agent, and the Director's son.

They'd spent nearly every day together for weeks on end. In the beginning, when Mac was first being trained, he hadn't seen much of James at all. He wasn't even allowed into the field for a lowball mission for months, leaving just he and Al to work together, running drills and simulations and learning the ins and outs of what's going to keep him alive. By the time he'd been allowed into the field at all - his partner grumbling under his breath that it was too early, he was still too green - he and Al had grown close.

Al had been to the house for dinner countless times, along with Charlie, an old trainee of his from his EOD days newly making a career for himself in the FBI. Mac had conversely been to the Peña house as well, met his partner's wife, his toddler daughter. Al had been there on birthdays and on holidays. He'd been there for every day Mac exceeded James's impossible expectations, and every day he'd failed under them. He'd been there for all of it, and it felt like it was going to last forever.

Until the Ghost.

"He wouldn't let me go in the building." Mac keeps his eyes fixed on the paperclip in his hands, twisting it so tightly his fingers blanch, bloodless. It hurts, the press of the thin strip of metal into his fingertips. "We'd been chasing this bomber, right, the Ghost. Everybody was after him, Al kept saying it was too soon, I wasn't ready, but the Director said I was, and besides, we couldn't just ignore it, he was trying to assassinate a Senator. He'd made one attempt already, got foiled by dumb luck, and we knew he was going to try again. We had a really shaky lead but it was our only lead, and it led us to this warehouse. Al said he had a bad feeling about it. I thought-"

He has to stop, swallowing hard around the painful lump in his throat, eyes stinging so sharply he closes them. Mac waits for a moment to collect himself before speaking again, wanting to be sure that his voice doesn't quiver like he knows it's trying to. He resolutely still does not look at Jack, ignores the soft sound that's come from Riley. If he's going to push through the rest of this, he can't acknowledge them, can't even think about the fact that they're here, they're within arm's reach, all he'd have to do was put out a hand and they'd...

"I thought it was nothing," Mac forces himself to say. The words burn coming out of his mouth but he doesn't stop, he continues. If it hurts, it's only what he deserves. "But he was really insistent about it. Told me he was going to go in first, check it out, and radio the all-clear for me to follow. So I decided I'd go back to the car for something I'd forgot, and when I turned around…"

The force of the blast knocks him down. Mac's head bounces off the car, dazing him and taking him to his knees. It takes several long seconds for his vision to clear, for the haze of pain and disorientation to part long enough to remember that someone had been inside that building. That Al had been inside that building.

Mac tries to scream, but he can't. The smoke, billowing out away from the fire licking out of the gaping wound in the side of the warhouse, is too thick to get any words out. Al's name sticks in his throat, feels like it's tearing him apart from the inside out, and Mac doubles over, small pieces of rock from the unpaved road biting into his palms. No matter how hard he fights, he can't speak, and he can't get up, all he can do is lose himself in the blinding pain of what's just happened.

Al is dead. His partner is dead. Al is dead and it's his fault.

That's where they find him, when Deputy Director Thornton didn't get an answer on comms and sent someone out. Collapsed there on the gravel, coughing on smoke and choking on grief, sobbing into the ground so hard he's almost lost consciousness at least once.

When he wakes up in the hospital hours later, James is there. He stands at the end of Mac's bed and for a long, long moment, doesn't speak. When he finally does, all he says is, "He was a good man. It's a tragedy."

Mac throws up in the basin left by his bed. He shoves off the hand James sets briefly on his shoulder, and barely hears the door close as his father leaves. He's alone until Charlie gets there, bursts in the door with wide eyes and a dozen questions Mac doesn't have the words to answer. All that makes it out is, hoarse and guilt-stricken, "I'm sorry."

They don't see the Ghost again. Despite the months of work put in to try and track him down, to find the man that killed Mac's training supervisor, his partner, they don't come up with so much as a trace. The man has followed through on his name and vanished, evaporating into the air as if he'd never been anything but smoke.

By the time he's finished, Mac is clinging to his composure by the barest thread. His lungs feel tight and bruised, his throat working as he tries to swallow around a cry he can't let out. He finally makes the mistake of looking to the side, right as a rogue tear breaks free of his tight rein on himself and streaks down his face, and there's Jack. Looking at him like Mac's just stuck a knife in his gut and twisted, and with his posture angled deliberately open. It's like he's issuing a silent invitation, saying to Mac without saying anything at all, I'm here, I'm here, if you just let yourself fall and break I'm here to catch the pieces.

Not taking that offer, allowing himself to collapse over like a marionette with his strings slash and sob his grief and guilt away in Jack's arms, is an act of will that seizes Mac's body like a physical pain. The strength it takes to not give in is enormous, a searing ache through his back and up over his shoulders, and he looks down again, hand balled into a fist on his thigh to keep it from reaching out to Jack, a silent answer to a silent offer, Help me, please. I need you.

"Jesus, Mac." Riley is the one to break the silence that's fallen, and Mac is infinitely grateful to her for it. He scrubs his wrist over his face, breathing in quick pants to try and quell the turbulence churning in his chest, and looks at her. "That's- I'm so sorry."

Nodding, Mac shifts a little on the couch, putting just that fraction more space between himself and Jack, closer to Riley. She's safer ground, the dynamic between them easier to handle. Mac's never had a sister before, it's a concept unburdened, completely new. Fathers, now that's another story entirely. One he can't even bear to think about when the storm of fire and death that had cut Al's life so cruelly, unfairly short is still so fresh in his memory, heating his face like he could still see it if he squinted at the right angle.

She doesn't try and ask him anything more, not about Al or about the Ghost, and neither does Jack. Mac still tries to avoid looking at him, focusing instead on Riley, who watches him with a half-panicked look for a while before abruptly lurching into motion and grabbing a game of Mancala out of the hallway cupboard. Jack grabs a magazine out of a basket while she goes, sitting back and pretending to read it while Riley returns with the box. As she dishes out the marbles into the dishes carved into the wood board of the game, her hand hesitates and then darts out, closing over his wrist.

Like he's been drowning and finally seized hold of a lifeline, Mac flips his hand over and grips hers back just as hard, knuckles going white and fingers aching with the strength of the hold. If the force of the connection hurts at all, Riley doesn't betray it. She merely clings onto him, giving as good as she gets, their near-bruised hands locked together over the Mancala board in a conversation for which there are no words.

By the time she lets him go and finishes dishing out the game, Mac feels some fraction shored up, the hurricane ravaged skeleton house of his body boarded up enough that he might be able to stay standing, if even just for one more day. They sit on the floor on opposite sides of the coffee table and play three rounds of the game, and Riley says nothing when his shaking hands repeatedly knock flattened marbles over into the wrong dish, silently fishing them out for him and setting things to rights. Behind them, Jack continues pretending to read his magazine, a cover for watching over them the way Mac knows he's doing.

Another several games pass before Mac's phone goes off, buzzing to life on the polished surface of Riley's coffee table with a rattling vibration. His startled flinch sends his knee banging into the bottom of the table, and he covers his embarrassment by snatching it up and climbing to his feet. Walking over to the far living room window, Mac looks down at the screen, noting the name and feeling his heart skip twice at seeing who it is that's calling him.

CHARLIE ROBINSON

"I'm sorry, I know I told you to go home, but-" Charlie's voice is hurried and stressed, a tone Mac has barely heard out of him a handful of times over the years they've been friends. "They just got the call at bomb squad while I was picking through what was left of the one left at the consulate. Someone's spotted another device."

Mac tries to ask and can't. His throat is too tight and his face too hot. He feels dizzy and scared and grits his teeth, shoving it all down because he can't afford to be scared right now. There will be time for that later, when he's locked himself alone in his room - now, he has to show up and do for Al what he couldn't years ago. He coughs, clears his throat, and forces the question out.

"Where?"

"The same Senator, he's giving a speech, it was called in a block away. It's his old target, Mac, the job he never finished because we caught onto him and started chasing. This is what he came back for. The Ghost is here to finish what he started."