Hello, all! Here is the next chapter. I'd like to thank my friend Rose for proofreading my story; she's such a good friend! Hope you enjoy this story, and have a wonderful rest of your week.
Disclaimer: I do not own MacGyver or any of the characters.
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Last Chapter
Mac reached his father. "The majority?...Dad… Dad, did you know about this? Did you know that Mom was alive?"
Macgyver Sr. looked at his son, and seemed to hesitate, before delivering some of the four worst words Mac had ever heard.
"Yes. Yes, I did."
Mac reeled back from his father, as if they words had physically burned him. Without missing a beat, Oversight continued.
"And I can explain."
Chapter Two -
Jack caught Mac as he stumbled back in shock. Mac appeared to have shrunk in on himself: shoulders hunched, stance submissively childlike. He steadied himself, and turned away from the group in the room, walking to the corner. Bracing himself against the wall, hand over his brow, Mac appeared to take several deep breaths.
This time, Matty stepped forward in the direction of Mac. "Blondie, this came as a shock to all of us - came as a shock to me. I promise to you we will do everything we can to figure this situation out. The full resources of the Phoenix are at our disposal." She looked over at Oversight. "Right, sir? Full usage of resources?"
Shockingly, Oversight hesitated. He made a move toward Mac, but caught himself halfway, almost as if he was experiencing an emotional dilemma. The room fell into a standstill, everyone not entirely sure what to do. Jack felt as if he was intruding upon Mac's privacy - never had he seen such strong emotions escape his Vulcan-like partner. Riley and Bozer clearly felt the same; Riley played nervously with her hair as Bozer shuffled his feet on the floor. Jack was willing to bet that if they had been in a kitchen instead of the War Room, Bozer would have baked a minimum of fifteen cakes by now.
Surprisingly, it was Mac who disturbed the nervous tension. Whipping around, his previously anguished expression was replaced with pure, unbridled anger. Storming across the room, he nearly collided with Jack in his path to his father. Oversight stood aloof, not even moving an inch when Mac approached him nose-to-nose.
"You fucking bastard," Mac began, his harsh language uncharacteristic of his personality. "Out of all the meddling you done in my life, out of all the pain you've put me through, out of all the -" he paused, and wrath dripped from his next sentence "- sociopathic manipulation you've done to me, this is the.. the... absolute worst." He let out an emotional breath. "Just...just.. tell me."
"Why?"
With that word hanging in the air, Mac stepped back. The anger seemed to leave his body just as air would leave a balloon, and he dropped into a chair. His team broke from their frozen positions and placed themselves around Mac. Oversight exhaled and finally sat, situated directly across from his estranged son.
He nodded in resignation as Matty spoke again, "Sir, I think now would be the optimal time to give us the full story here."
"I agree, Director Webber." He leaned back in his chair, arms folded. "Angus, what I'm about to tell you I've kept secret in order to protect you, do you understand?"
Mac scoffed. "That's all you've been telling me, Dad. Don't start the caring father routine now, though. I'd say you're about fifteen years too late for that."
With that, Oversight straightened from his relaxed position. The glimmer of concern from his face fell away and his regularly cold, calculated mask assumed its position. All pretense of personal consideration fell from his body language, and his next words were said emotionlessly.
"I can't take back the past, Angus. All I can do is look toward the future, but our future is uncertain if you don't understand the full story behind your - behind our - past."
Mac merely scowled at him. Bozer couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. "For Christ's sake, man, just tell us already! Enough with the secret spy shit!"
Without further ceremony, Oversight began speaking. "Angus, your mother and I met in 1985, when we were both assigned to the same CIA team."
1985, Langley, Virginia, CIA Headquarters.
Agent James Macgyver entered the briefing room and surveyed his surroundings. Plain furniture, drab carpets, dull walls. Typical government building interior design: no fuss, no nonsense. Having just returned from a mission overseas in Cambodia, James had been looking forward to a well-deserved vacation. However, just as he was settling down with a cold beer and an episode of "Cheers", his phone had rung. His boss, Deputy Director Carter Dawson, hadn't even bothered with a hello; James had been ordered into the office for an "incredibly urgent, incredibly important" mission. Vacation time be damned - labor laws had no place in the CIA. Either you were all in, or you weren't an agent. So here he was, two A.M, reporting for duty.
He took a seat at the end of the small conference table in the room, a strategic location. Sitting at the head of the table was reserved for the presenter, naturally, and your most eager agents would sit at either side of the head. The middle seats were where your tepidly confident agents would sit, agents whom had good skills but little reputation in the intelligence community. Like students in a classroom, they hoped that by sitting in the middle they would show their superiors that they were ambitious and diligent. Then there were the back seats. Sitting back here told a person more about your character than any other detail. Sitting in the back meant that you were cockily convinced of your unofficial authority given to you by experience alone. Sitting in the back made people assume you were an egotistical son of a bitch who felt so entitled, that he didn't need to listen to the mission briefing - he would simply know what to do through the process of intellectual osmosis.
James had cultivated his back seat reputation through the years. It was the reputation he needed, and the one he wanted. If everyone thinks you are a pompous asshole, no one will want to know you, or be friends with you. No one will become close enough to you that they can be used as leverage against you. No one will become close enough to you that if they die, it won't hurt you.
After a short-lived marriage to the love of his life, Mary, James had personally forbid any more personal relationships. He didn't think he would be strong enough to survive another loss, much less another caused by a car bomb.
His morose musings were interrupted by a flurry of activity at the door. Deputy Director Dawson swept into the room, followed by a young African American female agent, one whom James didn't recognize, a fellow senior agent named Warren Compland, and another agent whom James also didn't know, a blond woman who looked to be the same age as him.
"Ah, Agent Macgyver. Good to see you here early, for a change." The forever serious Dawson acknowledged James. "I happened upon these three in the hallway, all rushing to this meeting - perhaps you can set a good example on timeliness for these three from here on out." Dawson gave a disapproving look to the his subordinates. "Don't make me regret recruiting you for this mission," he all but commanded.
Compland merely shrugged in response. "Aw, Dawson, don't be like that, now," he drawled in a western accent. James' age, Compland had seen just as much action, and faced just as much political drama. Idle threats like the one the Deputy Director had just issued were minor in his experience. The young black female agent had the decency to at least look ashamed, nodding her head and taking her seat (near the head) with a quick "yes, sir". The last agent standing, the blonde woman, also looked uncomfortably sheepish, though she merely took her seat without saying anything. She swung her gaze in James' attention, and gave him a cursory once-over.
Though she had done nothing to intentionally warrant it, the woman piqued James' attention. Her eyes, a startlingly ocean blue, seemed to bore into his soul, making him feel exposed. For an agent of his caliber, exposure was thing he least desired. He bristled, and turned away to look at the Deputy Director.
As everyone settled into their places, Dawson started the briefing. "Alright, listen up, agents. What I am about to brief you on is an optional assignment; it requires deep undercover and a long term commitment. And when I say long term, I am talking years.
As you may be aware of, the Puer Circulum criminal organization has become the largest child-trafficking consortium in the western world. Over five hundred thousand missing children cases have been linked to the Puer Circulum. Traditional law enforcement methods have failed at bringing them down, so the U.S government has turned to the CIA to resolve this situation.
Each of you will be paired up as a married couple, and infiltrate the organization from within. Membership is only given to married couples, and it is a hard process to achieve membership. Members however, are privy to important information - information that we need to take these guys down. Again, it may take years to fully complete this mission. That's why I chose you all. You are dedicated, good agents, have no family or friends, and most importantly, are single.
To put it bluntly, no one will miss you when you disappear."
The room had taken on a contemplative mood. James was certainly considering taking the assignment. He had nothing else to lose.
"I'm in." His voice echoed in the room. Compland nodded along, "Me too," he said. "Not like I've got anything keepin' me here."
Dawson turned to the female agents. "Agent Nelson, any thoughts?" he asked the African American woman.
She sat in silence a minute longer, then spoke. "I became a CIA Agent to serve my country. I don't see any reason why I wouldn't pass on this opportunity. I agree, sir."
"Thank you, Agent," Dawson responded. "Agent Jorgensen? You're the last one."
Instead of responding immediately, Jorgensen seemed to be contemplating her decision, uncaring of her impatient supervisor. She twisted her hair and pursed her lips. "What's the pay?" she asked.
Dawson frowned. "Your regular salary, plus the normal long-term mission bonus pay. Why would you ask, agent?"
"Because I want more. If I complete this mission, I want six months vacation, fully paid," she replied.
Rolling his eyes, shaking his head, Dawson puffed out an affirmative grunt. "Fine. But Agent Jorgensen, this is the last time you demand anything from your boss, got it?"
She smiled catlike. "Just consider it my present after our disaster in Baghdad, Carter." All she got in response was a sour look shot back in her direction.
James was taken aback. Who was this woman, bartering with a superior officer? James was a courageous man with confidence to spare, but he could never imagine debating his boss in such a manner. If he was thinking honestly, though, it was refreshing to witness, he thought. Field Agents often had to deal with directives from clueless CIA commanding officers whom had never seen a mission firsthand, or experienced a real life shootout. His internal reveling was disrupted by the Dawson continuing his interrupted explanation of the mission:
"Okay then, men and women. Now that everyone is on board, let me lay out the plan for you here. As I've said, you are playing happily domesticated married couples, who also happen to enjoy the casual trafficking of human children. Compland and Nelson, congratulations. You've been married for five years, and after a struggle with infertility, are looking to acquire a child in a less than legal manner. Once you've made contact with the Puer Circulum, you'll work your way into the organization to figure out details about the logistics of the trade itself. After this briefing, you'll be meeting with our New Orleans liaison about more details of this assignment.
"Agent Jorgensen, you'll be Mr. Macgyver's dearly beloved. You two will be assigned to Los Angeles, where we believe the organization's center of operations is located. We've received knowledge of a black market job listing from Puer Circulum for security officers, and you both have the skillset to answer that call. Additionally, full background covers and identities have been created to give you the needed professional reputations as well. Keep in mind that Puer Circulum is not your typical criminal association. They prefer their members to appear as normal, average, office-drone type people, as to not attract attention. This method has been successful for them as they were effectively off of our radar until a few months ago.
Is the mission clear, agents?"
James looked at his new partner, Jorgensen. She seemed competent, capable, and yes, she was beautiful. This mission ought to not be that bad, he thought.
"Clear sir. Exceedingly so." James caught Jorgensen's eye, and both smiled at each other.
In present day, Mac interrupted his father. "What's the point of this, Dad? Why are you even telling us this? Why don't you tell me what happened after Mom died, and you walked out?" Impatiently, he threw his hands in the air. "All I get from you is secrets, and then secrets about those secrets! Can't I ever get a straight answer?"
Next to him, Bozer nodded his agreement. He had known Mac since they were both kids, and he knew the struggles Mac had been through with his fractured family situation.
Oversight sighed. "You were always an impatient child, Angus. I see nothing has changed. If you'd let me continue, you'll understand soon enough.
"After our pairing, Agent Jorgensen and I adapted to our shared life in Los Angeles together. I learned her name - Camilla."
Mac sat straight, startled. "That's Mom's name… Dad, you aren't telling me…"
"That Agent Camilla Jorgensen, my partner on an undercover CIA operation, is your mother? Yes, Angus, that's what I'm telling you." Oversight sighed. "Though our relationship started off completely professional, something...changed….during the course of the assignment."
1989 Los Angeles
Four years had passed since James had sat in the boring CIA briefing room. Dawson hadn't been hyperbolic when he said the mission would be long-term - James and Camilla had been acting as a married couple for so long they had become comfortable in their aliases. They had maintained their own first names, but had adopted a new last name for the both of themselves - Anderson. James and Camilla Anderson lived in Pomona Valley, in a roomy suburban home. They were the picture of domestic bliss. James mowed the lawn, Camilla did the gardening. James grilled with the other neighborhood husbands, while Camilla attended a monthly book club with her girlfriends in the cul-de-sac.
However, something set them apart from their cookie-cutter friends. When they got into their fuel efficient, highway tested, crossover vehicle in the mornings, they didn't go to an office.
Not a typical office, that is.
This particular Monday morning was like any other. James and Camilla held hands as they walked into a warehouse in the blue-collar district of L.A. They waved and smiled at the other employees bustling along. About to enter the door to the central workroom, they were intercepted by their boss, Leroy Jennings - overalls lover and child-trafficker extraordinaire.
"Hey hey, how's my two favorite security detail members this fine L.A morning? We gotta big shipment comin' in today from Las Vegas. Lots a little girls on board. Really gives a new meaning to precious cargo, eh?" He leered at the pair.
James chuckled along, ignoring the slimy pit in his stomach every time he entered the warehouse. "Sure thing, Roy, you know that we've got this covered. No need to worry about any lost merchandise."
Camilla echoed him, "Yeah, Roy, don't worry. I've got the special touch when it comes to little girls anyway."
Roy laughed. "Ha! 'Special touch' - good one, Cammie darlin'. Nah, I know you two are good - you are some'a my best 'em - ploy - ees'," he said, enunciating each syllable. "Seriously, though, you two are good - better than good. The Big Boss wants ta meet ya. Think ya guys might be lookin' at some real career advancement soon."
Camilla replied brightly, "Well, isn't that just fantastic, isn't it James? Finally, someone recognizing our talent!" she nudged James, "Right, honey?"
"Better than fantastic, sweetie pie!" He sang back to her. To Leroy he responded, "That is quite an opportunity. Thanks, boss. Let us know when we're needed?"
"Of course, Jamie-boy. I'll let you get on with your day now. The security plan needs ta be figured out for the Menendez caravan to Mexico, why don't ya help out Tim with that."
"Sure thing. Thanks again, Leroy." James answered. Leroy waved a goodbye and walked away, and the pair moved in the opposite direction towards their assigned workspaces.
"What a slimeball," Camille muttered under her breath. "Every time I talk to him I want to take a scalding hot shower."
James snickered in response. "Afraid that's not going to be possible with the water restrictions, Camille. This drought is killing California right now. Maybe a lukewarm shower?"
"Oh, shut up, James," Camille punched James' shoulder. "I need something to look forward to."
Their lighthearted exchange was quickly dampened as they made their way into the cargo hold area of the warehouse. Cages held young children, ranging from ages of three to thirteen. All were dirty, barely clothed, and given only the bare necessities for survival. With the dozens of children scared into submission, the large room was quiet and held a tense atmosphere of fear.
"God, James. What sort of mentally sick does one have to be in order to be okay with this?" Camille whispered. "We've been doing this for a four years now and I don't think I'll ever get used to it."
James shook his head. "Don't forget, Camille, we are those people right now. Don't lose sight of the mission. Think long-term, when we get these monsters."
All of a sudden, without warning, Camille whipped around. "The mission! The mission!" she lowly shrieked. "That's what my entire life has been - a mission! What if I want something more than just government sanctioned lying and deceit? What if I want to be… be… something else?"
James tried to hush her. "Camille! Calm down - now isn't the time for this...outburst! Wait until -" he was cut off by Camille.
"I'm pregnant." She said, almost sadly.
All James could do was gape in shock.
Present day, Phoenix Foundation
"So that's all I was, anyway - a mistake," Mac deduced. "Neither of you wanted me, right? I was only an inconvenience in the undercover mission. Explains a lot, honestly."
"No, Angus. You may been a mistake, yes, but that didn't mean...I... didn't want you. Your mother seemed overjoyed at having a child, even when we were undercover. We had never intended on becoming….intimate… but when you are pretending to be in love for so long, it begins to feel real. It was truly only a matter of time before something like a pregnancy would have happened. It was a sure inevitability.
"It's what happened after you were born, after you had turned five years old, that I truly regret. It's what I didn't realize sooner, that I regret."
1995 Los Angeles
"Momma! Momma! Look!" Five year old Angus Macgyver held up his drawing of a lever and pulley. "I copied Dad's drawing!"
Camille Macgyver, no longer Anderson, held the picture and proudly gazed upon her son's work.
"Absolutely amazing, honey!" Camille cooed. Her pregnancy with Angus had been a total surprise, but one she would cherish forever. Before she gave birth, her and James had finished the undercover assignment with a successful takedown of Puer Circulum. Surprisingly, they hadn't had to do much. Agents Compland and Nelson had ended up doing most of the work - turns out, New Orleans was where the financial information for the criminal organization was held. Once they were able to legally investigate the group for financial fraud, the CIA was able to conduct a full-blown, official investigation into the child-trafficking operations.
Shortly after the mission was complete, James and Camille had solidified their casual relationship. They had a baby on the way, after all. Both of them had become close during their time undercover, and by fully recognizing their attraction to each other, their merely physical relationship blossomed into a dynamic bond. In a whirlwind engagement, they were married one week before their son, Angus Christopher, was born. However, unbeknownst to her, James had been wary of becoming too attached to his new wife and child. He had experienced many devastating personal losses in his life, and was concerned that he would someday count his newfound family among them.
He tried to distance himself from Camille, at first, but was soon swayed by her addictive personality. My god, she was the most fascinating individual he had ever met. Her laugh was infectious; she lit up every room she walked into. People were drawn to her bubbly, over the top persona, like moths to a porch light. Her advice was always perfect. She cared deeply about each person she met. James could hardly believe that a woman like her could ever love him.
And Angus. James could hardly believe that he had a son, a child of his own. He thought he'd never have a family, never even have a close friend. Now, he had it all. Him and Angus were very close - Angus doted on him. Camille made fun of their relationship, saying all she had created those nine months of pregnancy was a mini-James. And while Angus had James' smarts and innate mechanical abilities, he looked exactly like his mother. Blond hair, blue eyes, the same dimpled smile. After a while, James had forgotten his original fears about having a family.
So, five years later, they were truly living in domestic bliss. James and her were still working with the CIA, but no longer as field agents. Instead, both had taken safer and stabler administrative jobs at the Los Angeles base of operations. They worked nine-to-five jobs, and enjoyed watching Angus play T-Ball on weekends. They shopped at local supermarkets, participated in neighborhood activities, and reveled in the freedom of being able to live as themselves, not as false identities.
James shouldn't have been surprised then, when everything collapsed under him. His new life was too good to be true, anyways.
James, Camille, and Angus were driving back home from Angus' favorite place, the local science museum. Angus was thrilled at seeing the new dinosaur exhibit, and James and Camille listened contently to his ramblings from the back seat. Angus was babbling about his favorite dinosaur, the velociraptor. James looked over at Camille from the driver's seat, and smiled. She returned his smile, the image of happy contentedness. Quickly, though, her expression turned to one of fear, her gaze reaching over his left shoulder.
"James! Look out!" she screamed. Angus stopped talking, confused by the sudden change in his mother.
James turned to his left. A car, illegally sweeping lanes, was headed for their direction. James honked, and swerved to avoid the incoming car. Forced to the shoulder of the road, their small sedan was driven right into the ditch, and flipped twice before rolling to a stop, right side up.
The occupants of the car were silent, still. Angus had stopped making noise completely, not even emitting sounds of distress. Camille sat limp in her seat.
The silence was disturbing.
James groaned as he came to, having briefly lost consciousness. He startled awake, instantly concerned for his wife and son.
He looked in the backseat. Angus sat securely in his car seat, but his face was littered with small, bleeding cuts from the broken glass of the car windows. He was unconscious. A large rock lay on the floor of the car, having probably rattled around the inside of the vehicle during the crash. It had likely hit the small boy in the head hard enough to knock him out.
James turned his attention to the passenger seat, where Camille was…
Gone? Expecting to see her sitting next to him, all James saw was an empty seat. The windshield was mostly intact, but there was no gaping hole where a body could have been thrown from the car. It was as if Camille had simply unbuckled her seat belt and gotten out of the car.
His frantic thoughts were interrupted by sudden wailing from the backseat. Angus had woken up.
"Angus, son, it's going to be okay. Don't move - Angus! Stop moving, bud, everything's going to be okay.."
He tried to shift in his seat but his legs were pinned by the console. Grunting, he swore. Where the hell did Camille go? Was she alive? He couldn't concentrate with Angus screaming from the backseat, crying for his mother.
"Angus, bud, I'm doing all I can right now, I need you to calm down. I know it hurts, little man…"
"James." A soft voice came from his left, interrupting him. Angus stopped crying. Standing there was Camille, with the driver from the car that had run them off the road, and four heavily armed men dressed in black.
"Camille! What the hell! Are you okay?" he shouted at her. "Don't touch her, you sons-of-bitches! Stay away from her, you hear me!?" he yelled next at the strange men surrounding his wife.
"Camille, baby, what's going on? Thank god you are alright! Call 911, okay? Get away from these men, Angus needs a doctor!" He paused, his words not seeming to garner a response. "Why...why aren't you doing anything?"
"James," Camille purred. "You'll get help, I promise. I wouldn't allow potential like Angus to be wasted, after all. And he needs someone to care for that genius, so you'll be saved too. Don't worry. My men will take care of the details."
James blinked blurrily. "Your...your men? What's going on Camille?" Is this the concussion messing with my head? He thought.
"That's right, James. My men. You see, this whole...romantic life of ours….was merely an undercover assignment for me, from my true handlers. I've been deep undercover within the CIA for the past fifteen years, quietly gathering U.S secrets to give to my organization."
"But what about Puer Circulum? That undercover assignment… our lives now, in Los Angeles. What about Angus?" James was dumbfounded. Camille, a criminal spy? No, there was no way, was there?
As if reading his thoughts, Camille laughed. "Yes, James, this is really happening. Yes, I am a double agent, yes, I double crossed you, yes, yes, yes, yes to all of your questions!"
"Here's the thing, my sweet," she leaned against the car, "you have to realize - this is nothing personal. I just needed you for information! That's all! Angus was a complete mistake - but one I'll be taking advantage of in the future. My superiors notified me that I was needed back at home operations about two weeks ago. This little car crash was completely engineered by me, and my friend Felix standing behind me." She gave a little wave at one of the angry looking men in black.
"Hi, Felix!" she chirped, blowing a kiss. "Thanks again, darling!"
Felix only raised an eyebrow in response.
"Was our whole marriage, our whole life together a lie, then? You can't be that good of an actress, Camille. Some of his had to be real!" James was becoming angry. Angry at himself, angry at Camille.
"Well, sure, sweet-cheeks!" Camille smiled. "I deserve an Oscar for that performance, wouldn't you say? And a years-long performance, at that. Childbirth, though, that was no acting. That was actually incredibly painful. No one can fake that."
James was beginning to feel the pull of sleep take him. He mumbled, "What about Angus? What am I supposed to tell him? What about our friends, and our neighbors? What about all the people that know you, Camille?"
Camille laughed again. "All figured out! I'm dead, James. I didn't survive this car crash. You will hold a funeral for me. All the arrangements have already been made, I've seen to it. Even down to the body in the casket. Hint: it's not me," she stage whispered. "As for Angus… I'll be back for him. Someday. Like I said, he's too valuable to me."
"I'll tell the CIA, the FBI, the DOJ, everybody, who you are, Camille. You won't get away with this. I won't let you get away with this." James hoarsely shouted.
"Oh, I think you will James. If you don't, I'll kill Angus. Don't think I won't, James," she said at his aghast expression. "'But he's your son, Camille! You can't kill him!'" she mocked. "Yes, he's my son, but my reputation and my work is more important than him. While he may be valuable, sacrificing him is a negligible loss compared to what would happen if my true identity was revealed. I'll do anything, James, to keep you quiet. I'll take everything from you. Everything."
The pain in James' legs was becoming overwhelming, but his emotional anguish was worse. This was his worst nightmare.
With those words, Camille turned and started to saunter away. Looking back over her shoulder, she called out.
"Goodbye, James." she sang. Suddenly stopping, she spoke again.
"By the way, my name isn't Camille. I just picked that name because I'm a fan of Camille Cosby. Really admire her dedication to her husband, don't you?" she smirked.
"The name's Carmen. Have a good life, James."
She walked away for good this time, with her men in tail. Angus started to cry again, having seen his mother leave him.
James was left alone, surrounded by the pieces of his broken car and his broken life.
He made a vow, then and there. He would protect his son at all costs. No matter what it took.
Present Day
The room sat in awed silence. Having finished his story, Oversight was motionless, looking uncomfortable at having exposed his tumultuous backstory. He shifted awkwardly in his chair before continuing.
"After that day, I did what she told me. I told everyone that she was dead, even my bosses at the CIA. Whoever she worked for was talented - there was no trace of her, anywhere. It truly was like she had died in that car crash. If it weren't for Angus, I would've doubted my own sanity. I would've doubted that my relationship with her had even existed. But everyday, I would look at my son - you, Angus - and be reminded of her betrayal.
I threw myself into my job. I resumed undercover work for the CIA, and began going on all the dangerous missions that I had previously given up. Being around Angus became too difficult for me to bear - he looks exactly like her, for god's sake! When you were ten, Angus," Oversight looked at his son, "I decided to leave. I was doing you no good, anyway, and while I am ashamed to say it, being around you was damaging me. I decided that the best thing would be to leave you with your grandfather, and protect you from afar.
I never thought that Camille, rather, Carmen, would resurface. But true to her word, she's back - for you. That's why you needed to know about this. I would've never told you the truth, otherwise."
Mac gaped at his father. "So you're telling me that my mother, who isn't actually dead, is a criminal super spy intent on..what? Killing me?"
"I'm not sure, Angus. That's why I need to protect you. I never revealed her secret. She made herself known to the intelligence community. I had nothing to do with it. This past mission that you just went on alerted me to how dire this situation is. We still don't know truly who she is, and who she works for - to this day. It is an enormous risk to you."
Oversight shook his head. "I'm sorry to do this, Agent Macgyver, but I am pulling you off of the active duty roster."
At this, the entire room erupted.
Matty spoke first, raising her voice above the noises of impassioned disapproval from Jack, Riley, and Bozer.
"Sir, are you really sure that would be the most prudent decision? Macgyver is one of our best agents, and completely capable of keeping himself safe…"
Oversight cut her off. "Oh yes, he's completely capable, not including the incidences when he has been kidnapped by Murdoc, has been held hostage multiple times, has nearly died at least a dozen times, and let us not forget the trampoline accident, shall we? No. My decision is final. Until we know what Carmen wants and what her plan is, I'd like Angus to go into protective custody."
His next words were terse. "For all I know, she's planning an assassination attempt as we speak."
Having heard Oversight argument, Jack lost the angry fury in his eyes at Oversight's abrupt announcement. His body language seemed to concede. Leaning over to Mac, he placed a hand on his quiet and obviously disturbed partner. "Mac, dude, I think your dad might be right here. Nobody wants to see you get hurt, especially me. I'll go to hell and back to figure this out, but I don't want you coming along with me for that ride."
"Furthermore Mac, like it or not, this is an official order - no matter what you think," Matty said, contradicting her earlier words of objection. She too, was concerned for her agent. Initially opposed to losing one of her best agents to reserve duty, it was ultimately better than losing him for good.
All eyes turned to Mac, anxiously eager to hear what he had to say. Bozer had a suspicious feeling he wouldn't be agreeable.
Mac finally spoke in a low, cool tone. "No."
Bozer was right. Here we go, he thought.
Mac, speaking directly to Oversight, ignored his friends' words of advice. "I disagree, sir. I'd like to deal with this issue like any other, like we would deal with any other criminal. I've been in danger before, sir, I'll be in danger again. Just because the criminal this time happens to be my mother, doesn't make the context any different. You can take me off active duty, I'll concede to that, but I'm not leaving my family in danger while I'm living in a plush protective custody house. I won't allow that to happen. I'll quit the Phoenix Foundation before I'll let that happen."
He paused for effect, and in a measure of direct defiance, said, "Are we clear, sir?"
The two men held each other's stare, each stubborn in their opinion. Everyone else held their breath, their heads swinging between Mac and his father as if they were watching a tennis match.
At length, Oversight set his jaw. "Fine, Agent Macgyver. Consider yourself an off-duty agent for now, but if we catch word of any effort to invoke violence upon you, I will take stricter preventions. Are we clear, Agent?"
"Crystal, sir." Mac growled. "Another thing - don't ever call me 'son' again. I don't want anything resembling a personal relationship with you, sir. This secret that you've kept from me is more than an embarrassing memory of yours - it's my entire life. I can't trust you. I'll never be able to trust you. I don't even want to try."
With that, he stood up and strode toward the door. Everybody watched him walk, and Jack stood up after him. Just before he walked out though, Mac turned around, and Jack could see the misery in his eyes. Without saying another word, the emotionally besieged Mac practically ran out. Jack followed his figure until he was out of sight.
Stunned, Jack was frozen until he snapped to attention, and started to run after his friend. However, a buzzing in his pocket stopped him at the door.
From: Mac
Don't follow me, Jack, alright? I just need some time alone right now. I'll call you later.
And as the team watched Mac walk away, they couldn't help but feel he left a part of him behind.
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Hope you enjoyed! Stay tuned for Chapter Three: What will happen when Mac disobeys direct orders from Oversight?