A/N: This is for those of you who I've left hanging for the last couple of years. It's a nice long chapter, that explains a lot. Enjoy!

Chapter 4

"So...who are you exactly? And how do you know Colonel O'Neill?" Sam asked the pretty brunette.

Teal'c was driving, Daniel was sitting in the front seat next to him, and Sam and the woman were in the back. Daniel turned around to listen in on the conversation.

The woman shrugged and then smiled. "His name is really Macgyver, and I've known him for a long time. We met when he rescued me from my boyfriend, who was actually evil, only I didn't know it. Well, actually, he wasn't evil, it was just his father who had stolen some jewelry and then tried to kill me and Mac, but Mac helped me escape by using a hanger and a chair while we were in an airport locked in a room. He's really smart! Oh, and there was this other time when I was singing, but I picked the wrong house and the men inside tried to kill me, but Mac was able to find us before we froze to death, and this other time where this evil guy tried to kidnap me and use me to lure Mac to his death, but Macgyver was able to defeat him and save me again!"

Sam and Daniel simply stared as the torrent of words poured out of the woman's mouth at breakneck speed. Finally, Sam shook her head and turned to Daniel. "Most likely Colonel O'Neill was on an undercover mission at the time, using the name Macgyver," she murmured. Daniel nodded, looking relieved. Teal'c merely looked at them silently.

The pulled up to the SGC and the woman continued to babble. They all accidently stopped paying attention after a while. Suddenly, Sam's ears pricked as she heard a familiar name.

"Simmons?" she interrupted, "Did you say Simmons?"

"Yes!" the woman replied, sounding a little annoyed, "That's what Mac called him. Haven't you been listening to a word I've said?"

Deciding to ignore that question, Sam focused instead on what Penny had been telling her. "So tell me again what happened."

"Like I said," Penny continued, her voice still sounding slightly annoyed, but quickly losing that tone as she realized she had everyone's undivided attention. "I followed Mac back to his house and when we got there the front door was open. Mac looked nervous and then did something I never expected him to do!"

"What was that?" Daniel asked curious, interested despite himself in the past of his friend, even if it was just an undercover mission.

"He pulled out a gun! Can you imagine that?" Penny looked at the other three in the car, wide-eyed.

SG-1 exchanged glances, once more questioning the woman's sanity. Jack must have been pretty heavily undercover for her not to know about the man's affinity for weapons.

"Please continue, Penny Parker," Teal'c said after a moment's silence.

"So, we walked in, and Mac called the man Simmons. Then the man called him O'Neill and told him he should lock his door. I've always thought that was a good idea personally, but even back then sometimes, Mac never listened to my tips. This one time, in fact, I..."

"What happened then?" Daniel interrupted.

Surprised, Penny paused, and then continued, "Macgyver than sent me upstairs, but only a few seconds later, I heard what sounded like a gunshot. Then there was a crash, and then, as I watched from the window, a bunch of men ran into the house and the noises stopped. I went running back downstairs, but then you were at the door, and Macgyver was gone!"

"Thank you for you help, Penny. We'll do all we can to retrieve 'Macgyver,'" Daniel said, patronizing the woman. "We actually would like you to repeat your story to a friend of ours. Would that be okay?"

Penny Parker nodded, and then she shook her head. "No, at least, not yet! I have to call Pete!"

Sighing, Sam handed her phone to the hyper woman, and the woman took it gratefully.

After punching in a few numbers, the woman spoke quickly into the phone, "Pete, this is Penny Parker. You won't believe what I have to tell you!" She was quiet for a few moments as someone on the other end spoke for a moment, and then she said, "No, Pete, I'm fine, no one is trying to kill me. But, Pete? I found him! I found Macgyver!"

There was a long pause on the other line. Then a torrent of words poured through the phone. Same was beginning to wonder if letting the woman make the call before she talked to Hammond was such a good idea. Too late now, she supposed.

Several states away, a man was sitting on his couch staring at the ceiling when his phone began to ring. The man was older, his one attractive face was now lined with wrinkles and his hair was beginning to go grey, but as he quickly sat up, his movements betrayed a deadly grace. Quickly putting the phone to his ear, he simply said, "What is it?"

He listened carefully for a few moments, and then a slow, predatory smile spread across his features. After listening carefully, he said, "If this information is true, you will be well-rewarded. Meet me tomorrow at noon. Regular place." Without waiting for confirmation, the man hung up the phone and slowly stood, stretching. His smile spread, and he murmured to himself, "I knew you weren't dead, Macgyver! And now," the man continued, pulling a wicked looking blade out of his coat pocket, he murmured, "it's time to settle an old score."

"So, what are you going to do exactly?" Jack said, seeking as much information as he could get out of his captors.

"We've been experimenting with Goa'ulds," Patty said cheerfully. "We think that we've found a way to control them. However, using this weaker strain of Goa'uld, might provide us with some understanding of how you are able to resist the Goa'uld mindset. Please don't struggle Colonel O'Neill, you might rip some of the sensors out."

Unable to help himself, Jack quipped, "Do you know that you are a rather stereotypical villain? Come on, Simmons, couldn't you have found someone a little more unique?"

"I am no villian," the woman said, affronted, "I am, in fact, trying to save the world. Now if we can continue?"

Jack growled and ignored her as he began to thrash. "Don't you dare..." he threatened, but they didn't give him time to finish his thought. Instead, a Goa'uld was pulled out of a container, and the next moment, he head was being pulled back and he felt the all-to-familiar sensation of having a creature rip its way into his neck. Growling, he went to battle the invader.

Like the last time this had happened upon Hathor's ship, Jack found himself in front of his internal Stargate. It seemed whenever things found their way into his mind, he met them here. The Goa'uld that faced him was in human form in this insubstantial world, and it grinned at him in a predatory fashion.

"Hello, host," the Goa'uld intoned, his eyes flashing, "I see that you are prepared to do battle. That's impossible, you know."

"Try me," Jack growled. Instantly, there was a large machine gun in his hands and he pointed it at the snake-head.

The snake-man snorted. "This is new," he observed, "but useless. I have direct control of your nervous system. What makes you think that this will do any good?"

Jack smiled a slow smile. "It's worked before." With that, he pulled back the hammer and as he squeezed down on the trigger, the Goa'uld's eyes widened comically. He drew back his hand and threw something at Jack just before the rain of bullets blasted through him. Jack could only see the man stiffen and fall before the memory that the Goa'uld had thrown hit him.

Macgyver moved slowly through the dark street toward Sam's car. He could see it parked in the distance, and caution and instinct warred within him. He knew it was a trap, but his concern for his son forced him to approach it anyway. However, as he reached it, nothing happened. He did, however, find a note in the door.

"Macgyver," the note read, "you son, Sam, is currently my guest. He would like to request that you join us at the old warehouse on 5th. If you don't come alone and by 5:00, well, let's just say that Sam will positively...die."

The note had no signature, but Mac didn't need one. The tone was the same, and along with Pete's warning, he knew Murdoc was up to his old tricks. Worry filled him however. He was out of practice, and Murdoc had been preparing for years for this encounter. Macgyver could only hope that his luck hadn't run out.

Jack woke up gasping, fighting the memory that they dying Goa'uld had thrown at him. Last time he'd done this, it had only stalled the Goa'uld, injuring him so he couldn't continue. This one seemed much weaker. It probably had something to do with their experimentations on it, he thought.

He opened his eyes to find Simmons, the Goa'uld, and Doctor Patty staring at him.

"Incredible," Simmons hissed, his eyes aflame with excitement.

"Only two minutes and thirty seconds," Patty said excitedly.

"And you're positive that the Goa'uld is dead?" Simmons asked.

"How did this Tau'ri...?" Conrad the Goa'uld hissed.

Jack smiled, "What's all the fuss about? Were you friends with that bloke or something?"

"Interesting," Doctor Patty murmured, "he appears to be completely aware of how he accomplished this. If this can be utilized..."

"So, can I go now?" Jack smirked.

Simmons look however, caused his smile to falter a bit. "Don't worry, Jack," the man said, "that was only round one. Are you ready for round two?"

Jack couldn't help the horror that filled his eyes briefly, and he began to struggle again, "No," he gasped, but that didn't stop them from holding up another symbiote grabbing him by his hair and placing it near his neck. Again, he felt the piercing pain, and then he was back in his mind-stargate.

This time, it was a female Goa'uld host. At her feet lay the decomposing dead male Goa'uld. "O'Neill, of SG-1," she hissed.

"What?" Jack asked, "Does that mean I'm part of your genetic memory now?"

She smiled. "I will relish the opportunity to possess your form."

"Oh, for crying out loud," Jack said, rolling his eyes, "doesn't it bother you that I'm a man?"

"No," the Goa'uld said, "in fact..."

However, she didn't get much further than that as an M-16 appeared in Jack's hands. "Nighty-night," he said. As he opened fire, he was engulfed by another memory, though a brief one.

He cautiously crept through the window. Both the front and the back door had been wired, and there was only one window that seemed to be accessible. Again, Mac felt the trap closing in around him, but he had little choice. He had pried the window open with his pocket knife, and to his surprise, nothing was waiting for him on the other side. He quietly crept down the hall, years of experience coming back to him as naturally as if he'd never quit the Phoenix Foundation.

He could hear quiet, muffled sounds coming from just around the corner, when the trap was finally sprung and he realized that he was not where near ready for what Murdoc had prepared this time. As he stepped on a loose board, his legs crashed through, and he found himself tumbling through the air toward the ground twenty feet below. He didn't even remember hitting the ground.

When Jack came to this time, he ached. His neck felt like it was swelling with pressure, and he felt feverish. Groaning, he opened his eyes to find them light sensitive.

"There appears to be more pain this time. Perhaps the first symbiote has not finished decomposing yet?" Patty's voice came in a clinical way. "Perhaps we should wait for a moment and give the dead symbiotes time to decompose into his blood stream?"

"No," Simmons cold voice came back, "the weaker he gets, the more it might change his ability to kill the symbiote. The symbiote as it enters can dispose of the others. Put another one in."

Jack felt groggy. Weakly, he tried to protest, but they didn't give him much time. Before he could do anything, his head was forced to the side again, and he felt another sharp pain in his neck.

Jack staggered to his feet in front of his internal stargate. This Goa'uld was a man again. Jack rolled his eyes. At the man's feet lay the dead female Goa'uld and a few remains of the dead male.

"O'Neill, of SG-1," the male smiled.

Jack shook his head. He felt fuzzy, and he looked down to see that his image was fading in and out. He still tried to quip, "Isn't it getting a little crowded in here?"

The Goa'uld looked down. "Oh, you mean these two? Don't worry, I'll dispose of them as soon as I have complete control."

Jack shook his head. He tried to form a gun, but his mind felt shaky. Rubbing his head, he growled, "I don't think so." Then, he forced himself to focus, and finally, he stood in front of a Gatling gun. "Good-bye, Goa'uld," he growled.

However, even though he was able to fire, the bullets hadn't even reached the Goa'uld before he was overtaken by a longer memory. One that he would have liked to forget...

When he awoke, it was to the feeling of pain. Blood was running from a cut on his forehead that was nearly blinding him in his left eye. His right leg was shooting pain up his spine, but he quickly realized that the worst pain was coming from his left hand. Looking up, blinking away the blood, he realized that he was dangling in midair, tied by a rope that was secured to a beam on the center of the warehouse. He looked down to see that his legs were tied together and secured to a large weight that was causing the strain on his arm to be magnified.

It only took him a moment longer to realize that his right arm was completely free, and for some reason, that worried him the most. Reaching up with his right hand, Mac grabbed the rope and lessened some of the pressure on his wrist by hoisting himself up a bit. This lessened the pain a little, but his worry only increased as Murdoc stepped into his vision, holding a .24 caliber Beretta toward his son's head.

"Sam!" Macgyver cried, "are you alright?"

Sam nodded frightened, his eyes wide as deliberately avoided looking at his captor.

"Macgyver," Murdoc began in that same pleasant tone that he always spoke in just before he went for the kill, "it's been a while, how have you been? I see you finally cut off that ridiculous mullet. Was that Sara's doing?"

"Let Sam go, Murdoc! If it's me you want, you've got me! Leave my family out of this. This is no time for your sick games," Macgyver gasped, as his accumulated injuries made it difficult for him to think.

Murdoc's pleasant smile dropped. "On the contrary, Macgyver," he said, "I've waited the last two years to continue this little game of ours. Didn't anyone ever tell you? It will never be over until one of us is dead." At these words, Mac felt dread fill his heart, and then Murdoc regained his smile.

"However, Macgvyer," the killer continued, "not wanting this to end with a bang and a whimper, I've decided to make it a little more exciting for you." At that, Murdoc moved his foot to press a button and over head something exploded sending an object flying down from the ceiling. Just in front of Macgyver, the object was brought to a halt as the rope reached the end of its length and bounced the item in front of Macgyver's vision. It was a rifle, and a short bayonet was attached to the front of it. Macgyver couldn't help but be confused as he stared at it.

"What's the meaning of this, Murdoc? Why are you doing this?" Macgyver asked, making no motion toward the gun.

Ignoring Macgyver's questions, Murdoc instead said, "You know, Macgvyer, I've done little but think about you for the last couple years."

"What a waste of time," Macgyver couldn't help but quip.

Murdoc's smile faded slightly, but then he resumed his obviously prepared speech, "You see I've discovered something. Simply killing you just wouldn't be enough. We are two sides of a coin Macgyver, and it has continued to baffle me that for all of your inferior skill and obstinate aversion to killing, you have still managed to beat me every time that we have crossed paths. I've since come to realize that even if I killed you, I would still lose because your, shall we say, principles will remain after you are gone. People will still see you as a spotless, golden hero, and that is unacceptable."

As Murdoc's smile widened, Macgyver knew that he didn't like where this was going. "In order to truly kill you, I can't just destroy your body, but I have to destroy your spirit as well. Now that you actually have a family to lose, what will it do to you to watch them die one by one?"

Macgyver's body filled with rage, and releasing the rope, his body was once again suspended by his left wrist and he reached for the gun.

Murdoc, if anything, looked even more pleased. "Yes, Macgyver," he said, "get the gun. Shoot me, if you can. I'll give you 60 seconds. If by the end of that 60 seconds you still haven't killed me, Sam will suffer the consequences. I'll turn my back, so you can come up with any clever little ideas you want without distractions. Try your best Macgyver, but remember, the clock is ticking."

Chuckling, Murdoc turned away, and tightened his grip on Sam. Macgyver's mind was scrambling, pushing the pain aside and focusing on saving his son. He was able to easily untangle the gun from it's harness, and in fury, he aimed it at Murdoc's back. It would be so easy...

Angry, he shook his head, and began to use a sharpened blade at the front of the gun to saw through the rope suspending him to the ceiling. He was counting down the clock in his head. It had been fifteen seconds getting the gun out, and ten seconds later, he was through the first rope. He came down uncomfortably hard on his injured leg, but he pushed that aside. It took him ten seconds more on rope tying his legs together, and he scrambled to his feet. He still had 25 seconds to get to Murdoc, and to save Sam. He knew he could cross that distance. He felt hope filling him, and with gun in hand, he tried to take off running, forgetting about the pain in his right leg. It turned into a limping shuffle, but Macgyver was confident that he would make it.

Afterward, he knew he should have expected it. Murdoc always had another trick up his sleeve, and so when the second trap was sprung, he should have been able to avoid it. It was hidden under a section of netting, and when he stepped on it, he felt pain hit him in a familiar way. After all, it wasn't his first time stepping into a bear trap. As it closed on his ankle, despair filled him and he was send crashing to the ground, crying out in pain.

Murdoc turned around, his face revealing his pleasure. "Predictable, Macgyver. You've gotten soft in your old age. And time is up. Say goodbye to your son."

"Murdoc," Macgyver begged, sweat running down his face as he tried to crawl toward the madman, "don't do this, please. Kill me instead."

"You have the gun, Macgyver, you can still stop me," Mudoc pointed out, as he brought the gun lower and pointed it straight at Sam's chest.

As Macgvyer realized that Murdoc was right, everything within him rebelled at using the gun that he still held in his hand. Murdoc watched Macgyver war within himself, and then before a choice was made, Murdoc made it for the man.

"Sorry, Macgyver, but time is up."

Sam had one moment to realize that his Dad wasn't going to save him as he saw Murdoc's finger tighten on the trigger.

"Dad!" he yelled, and sound of the shot sounded before Sam's cries had even finished echoing of the rafters.

"Sam!" Mac roared in horror as blood blossomed down the front of Sam's shirt and his son crumpled to the ground.

Murdoc watched Macgyver's reactions with a kind of sick pleasure, and then he turned. "I'm off to visit Sara and your other son, what was his name? Oh, yes. Charlie." He then turned back one final time to look at the despairing man behind him. "I'll give them your regards," he hissed.

There are defining moments in each man's life. Macgyver would always remember this moment as one of those when something snapped within him.

"You don't touch my family," he roared, lunging to his knees and firing the rifle point blank at the back of the man who had caused him so much pain and sorrow.

He saw the bullet impact Murdoc, and with a cry the man spun around and looked at Macgyver with horror on his face. "Macgyver?" he cried as he fell in a heap and laid still.

However, once the immediate threat to the rest of his family was over, Macgyver's only attention was on his son. Using the rifle as a brace, Macgyer managed to open the trap and slip out his bleeding, crushed ankle. Crawling toward his son, he said, "Sam! Sam! Can you hear me?"

Macgyver was relieved to find his son still bleeding and alive, but barely. "I'm so sorry, Sam!" Macgyver cried out as he tried to staunch the blood with his own hands.

Sam didn't stare at him with anger, but pain and fear filled his features. "I'm scared, Dad," the young man said, "it hurts."

Macgyver felt tears mix with the blood on his face as he took in his son's pallor and the wound. "It'll be okay, Sam," he croaked, "just hang in there."

Sam tried to nod, and said, "I'm trying." Then, after a long moment, in a little boy voice, he asked, "Do you think Mom will be there to meet me?"

Staring in horror at the implications of what his Son had just said, Macgyver could only nod. "Grandpa Harry's waiting too, son," he said, "but it's not your time yet. You're going to make it."

Sam only smiled slightly, and then a tremor ran though his body. Macgyver had seen too many people die in his life, and this was one more curse to add to his list. With a roar, Macgyver turned to look at Murdoc, but the man was gone. Only a blood trail remained where he had been sitting.

This time, his waking was slow. For a moment Mac...or Jack didn't even know who he was. Even if he hadn't been chained down, Jack wouldn't have been able to move. Every joint ached and his head and neck felt like they were on fire. Even worse, his heart and mind were filled with images of Sam's face as he had died. He felt moisture on his face, and he couldn't tell if it was sweat or tears. It didn't seem to matter so much. All Jack knew was that he'd been forced to relive his greatest failing.

"Should we try again?" a fuzzy voice asked that buzzed in and out of his hearing.

"No, to try again might kill him, which would not serve our purposes," another voice said. "Let him heal for the moment."

Relieved, his conscious brain relaxed and he slipped into a restless sleep, where his brain continue to replay what the Goa'uld had jump-started.

Full of fear, aware that the rest of his family was still in danger, Macgyver began to go to work. After a few moments, he had a functioning brace on his foot, and a sled to pull Sam's body in as he pulled them both back to the car. Racing home, he quickly limped inside, relieved to find Sara waiting for him.

She screamed slightly, as her bloodstained husband limped into the house, but before she could ask any questions, he quickly pulled her close to him. "Get the baby," he said, the urgency clear in his voice, "anything that you absolutely need. We've got to get out of here, and we're not coming back."

Sara was too smart to argue. She could see that Macgyver was on the edge of exhaustion. "Where's Sam?" she asked, as she grabbed the bags that she had already packed while her husband was gone, and started walking them toward the door.

"In the car," was all Macgyver said, but something about the way he said it filled her with dread.

Ten minutes later, they had everything they needed and she was driving away from their home forever. Sara only looked back once, and as she did, she caught sight of Sam. In horror she looked at her husband, but he was nearly unconscious from pain. Shaking, she followed his directions and kept driving to an old friend of theirs, Colonel John Collins of the United States Air Force.

A few hours later, she pulled in front of his house and raced to the front door. She was relieved when the Colonel himself opened the door. He looked tired and he was in his pajamas, but he was there. "Sir," she said, "we need your help, but we also need your indiscretion."

"Sara? Macgyver's wife?" Colonel Collins said, "What on earth are you doing here at this hour?"

With a gasp of horror, she lost her thin veneer of control. "Sam's dead and Macgyver's badly hurt! Please help them!" she cried and burst into tears.

Macgyver woke up. He could smell the antiseptic smell of a hospital, and he looked up to see the kind face of Colonel Collins looking at him.

For a long moment, Macgyver couldn't remember how he got there, and then it all came crashing back to him. With a groan that came from more than physical pain, he closed his eyes again, trying to shut out the memories.

"That won't do any good, Mac," the Colonel said. "You almost died. Sara has asked me to not tell anyone that you are here or that I've seen you, but Pete has half the country out looking for you. Do you want to tell me what happened, and why I'm not allowed to tell Pete where you are?"

Macgyver continued to breathe hard for several minutes, struggling to conquer the memories, and then, lowering his hand, he said, "I'll try."

It took him several attempts, and several minutes, but he explained what exactly had happened, but when he came to the part about Sam, self-disgust crossed his face.

"It was my fault!" he cried. "If only I had fired that gun earlier, Sam would still be here. I was a fool!"

Colonel Collins, who had never understood the other man's aversion to guns, didn't say anything. Instead, he just listened patiently until Macgyver had finished speaking. Silently, they sat for a long moment, and then the Colonel spoke up. "As much as I appreciate your position, Macgyver, I don't know how I can help."

"Murdoc's not dead," Macgyver said, his voice dead and his eyes tired. "He'll never stop coming after me until Macgvyer is dead and buried. I need to disappear, sir."

"Witness protection?" Colonel Collins asked.

"More than that, Colonel," Macgvyer said, "I want to join the Air Force. Put me somewhere where I can do real good."

Reeling in shock, Colonel Collins said, "But you hate guns!"

As if from an old memory, Macgvyer intoned, "If I like baseball, I take up golf...right? Who would ever think to look for Macgyver within the military?"

Colonel Collins couldn't help but see the logic behind that. However, he still had his reservations. "But, Mac," he protested, "could you do it? Could you kill people?"

As Macgyver looked up at the ceiling for a long moment, the Colonel could see the fight raging in his eyes. "For my family," Macgyver toned, "I can do anything."