I had an unusual amount of "me time" to write this, so unfortunately, in thefuture, don't count on me being able to update this fast. sorry, I wish I could, but I'm not the fastest writer out there, I wish.

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They hadn't seen each other for a long time. 'God it must have been at least six years,' he thought. The last time, MacGyver had shown up at his older brother's door when he had heard of his nephew's death. He hadn't met Charlie, although he really wished that he could, but the few times he had spoken to Jack over the phone, Charlie was all he would talk about:

"Mac, I wish ya could have seen it! The way he smacked that ball outta the park, man, you should've seen his face…"

"He made the team Mac. The coach is talking about making him the captain of the hockey team…"

"He just got all A's on his report card. Last semester he got a 'B' in math, he's doing better now…"

The pride had been obvious. No father was more proud or more in love with his son than Jack had been with Charlie. Then, one day, the phone calls had stopped; not that they were all that common to begin with, but it was an ominous silence. He and Jack had a type of connection, one that they both had known was unique to them and only them, it was probably the most important secret between them. Through that connection Mac had known something was wrong. He had felt depressed and anxious and knew that he was picking up on Jack, so he had chanced a trip to Colorado Springs to check up on him.

Jack had been such a mess and wouldn't listen to any logic. He had been terrified, the most frightened that he had ever been in his whole life: Jack blamed himself for his son's death and was suicidal. He was scared that he was going to lose the only family he had left, and from that fear he did something illogical: he fled. He ran to their cabin in Minnesota, not knowing what to do. After a week of Mac hiding, Jack had shown up, back to normal. Sure the grief and self-blame were still there, but they no longer consumed him nor threatened to destroy him. He was back to his normal mischievous, sarcastic self, and that had Mac relieved. That was when Mac had taken the picture of Jack sitting on the dock, fishing, that he kept in his bedroom.

He was curious what had brought about the sudden change, but then Jack had said that one little word that was the cause of so much trouble and grief...one adjective that had robbed them both of a normal life or family relationship:

CLASSIFIED

Jack had been Black Ops and over half of his life fell under that wretched word. The things he had done were so secretive that if it wasn't for the fact that Jack was the one who had to carry out the deeds, he probably wouldn't have enough security clearance to know what he did.

Mac's life, early on as freelance for the DXS, had also been secretive. At the beginning of their careers, both brothers had agreed to go in and delete any trace of a link that would tie the two together. It had taken a long time, but working together they succeeded. Because of the circumstances surrounding their jobs, they had decided that they didn't want to put each other in danger by having numerous enemies use one against the other. It was Jack's way of protecting Mac, and it was Mac's way of protecting Jack, and they both knew it without having to vocalize their intentions.

Since then, they couldn't risk visits, unless something went really wrong, which with the two of them it so often did, and the need to be together overrode the possible repercussions. They kept in touch over the years only with sparse, and extremely secure phone calls. It had been a while since the last time they spoke to each other, and even longer since they had been face to face, so it had come as a big surprise for Mac to find Jack on his doorstep.

He couldn't see any lights on, but it didn't fool him. He knew that Jack was inside. He had lost Pete at Phoenix and had rushed back home as soon as he could. MacGyver cautiously opened the door, steeling himself to anticipate the worst. He peered inside and breathed a sigh of relief: nothing was out of place. He was half expecting the place to be ransacked, again.

"Jack?"

"Up here." The voice came from his bedroom.

He headed up the spiral staircase that led to the second story of his houseboat. As he neared the last step, Jack hobbled out of the bathroom wearing a torn and bloody shirt. He was pale and looked to Mac like he was suffering the effects of coming down off an adrenaline high. He only paused for a split second, shocked by the condition his twin brother was in, before he rushed forward and caught him before he fell in a heap on the floor.

"What and where?" he asked while he led him over to the bed to lie down.

"Knife. Right side," neither of them were strangers to the various forms of trauma that could be inflicted on the human body. It was an occupational hazard, not to mention their knack of attracting trouble. "It's nothing big Mac, just barely a scratch. I already took care of it." Jack batted the other man's searching hands away from his shirt in a weak attempt to get him to leave him alone. It was then that MacGyver registered what he had been seeing out of the corner of his eye: many dirty and bloody bandages littering the floor of his bathroom. His concern escalated and it became even more important for him to find out how bad it really was for himself.

"Jack, let me see." He well knew his habit of downplaying an injury, especially a serious one; he had been accused of doing the same thing himself. He pushed Jack's hands out of the way and lifted up his shirt to reveal the patch-job that he had done using his supplies from the med kit that Mac kept. It was a good job; after all, Jack had plenty of experience in that regard but he still wasn't a doctor. MacGyver removed the bandages and gasped at what he saw.

"This is just a scratch! Jack, my god, who did you piss off this time?"

"Would you believe me if I told you no one?" pain laced his voice, though he tried to conceal it.

"No,"

"Thanks," he groaned facetiously.

"Jack, I've got to clean this," dread filling his gut.

"I already did,"

"No offense bro, but I can do a much better job than slapping a band-aid on it,"

"Fine," Mac had already left to see what supplies he had to work with.

"Try not to bleed on my bed, or you owe me new sheets," he called over his shoulder, his voice echoing through the bathroom. Jack raised his head just enough to see his side,

"Oops. Hey, none of that bubbly stuff. It hurts like hell!" 'Like a stab wound doesn't?' Mac thought after he heard his brother's call. Jack listened to him puttering about while he took account, for the first time since this fiasco began, how he really felt. His side really hurt now. He had pretty much collapsed earlier when he was wrapping his wound when the adrenaline had abruptly and completely left his system. He had been able to ignore it right up until that point; luckily that was when Mac had arrived. Thinking of Mac, he returned at that precise moment his hands filled with various medical materials and interrupted his silent recollections.

He walked up to Jack and peeled back his bandages to once again reveal a jagged incision about five inches long. He winced at the sight; it was already inflamed and looked really angry. 'Where to start?' he sighed.

"This is gonna hurt."

"I know. Believe me, I know." He hissed with pain as MacGyver started cleaning. Mac stopped, however, when he felt something that he knew didn't belong. Bile threatened to rise as he recognized what it was.

"Jesus Jack! Part of the blade's still in there!" He felt like he was going to be sick, but he knew that he had to finish, for Jack's sake, or else things were going to get a LOT worse. He considered himself an optimist, and it never failed to shock him how cruel and cold some people were, even though he had met many over the years. It still made him ill. But, the damn thing had to come out. "I'm so sorry Jack. So sorry…" He was tearing at the knowledge that what he was about to do would hurt his brother more than it did when those bastards had done this to him in the first place.

"S' okay Mac," He knew what was going through Mac's head, and he didn't need their weird connection to know it either, it was obvious in his eyes. Contrary to what Mac thought, Jack knew that in the next few moments: the one who was going to hurt the most out of the two of them would not be himself, but MacGyver. "Do what you have to do."

In response, Mac's fingers reached in to try and grab the lodged piece of metal stuck inside of him. The pain was excruciating, and he clenched his jaw as hard as he could to keep from screaming, only a few grunts escaped his throat. Mac tried to be quick about it, but because of the blood, he couldn't get a lasting grip. It kept slipping. The pain was starting to overload his senses, but he stubbornly remained quiet until:

"GOD DAMMIT! JUST GET IT-"

"Out!" Mac let out a cry of success.

With enough energy for only a few more seconds of alertness, Jack resolved to reassure his younger sibling that he had done well,

"Good…"

Then everything went black.

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Any theories? Feedback please. I want to know what ya'll think.