Author's Note: thanks to all of you who gave me some kind words of support. I really appreciate it. This one's for all of you. You know who I'm talkin' about.

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A groan alerted Mac that his guest was awake. He had been both worried and relieved when Jack had passed out. The sight of his eyes rolling into the back of his head, revealing only white where brown had once been had immediately overcome his short lived feeling of triumph. But once rationale had kicked in, he was grateful because that meant that he wouldn't feel any more pain while he was out. He had cleaned and re-bandaged his wound and started to wonder when he would wake. He didn't have to wait long.

"Did they catch him?" Jack ached all over, but the worst pain was coming from his side, which was throbbing in time to his fast-paced heartbeat. He put a hand over his faced and rubbed his eyes. He could feel a bad headache on the horizon.

"Huh?"

"The idiot that ran me over."

Mac had to let a snort out at that one. 'Figures; the first thing out of his mouth was a joke,' God how he had missed him. 'Oh well, might as well play along.'

"Yeah Jack, they got 'em."

"Good," he sat up now, and dropped his arm, "Thanks Mac, I really appreciate it." He looked MacGyver in the eye and stood up.

"Uh…Jack, I don't really think you should be getting up so soon after-"

"I was stabbed in my side, not my leg. I can still walk. Besides, I wanted to give my little brother a proper hello." O'Neill made his way over to where MacGyver was resting against a bureau. He paused right in front of him and placed his hands on the other man's shoulders. His eyes ran up and down, cataloguing every little thing that was different since the last time they saw each other.

Mac's gaze, however, was riveted to Jack's chest, that is, the part that was visible over the bandages.

After a second or so, Jack abruptly pulled Mac into a strong hug. He was relieved at what he saw, 'No recent or healing injuries, not much change actually except the hair is a tad shorter and lighter. The extra inches probably hide his gray underneath. Lucky SOB.'

"You've picked up quite a collection of new scars Jack," Mac was of course curious about what he did for a living now a days, but he wasn't so stupid to know that whatever it was was extremely dangerous, and probably at times very painful. That made him concerned for his brother's welfare because Jack most likely wouldn't. He always put everyone else before him and at times, it pissed him off. Knowing Jack, though, it was going to be- there's that word again- classified, six ways from Sunday.

"Work," was his one word reply. He tried to brush off the remark because if allowed to question further, Mac would have to realize that there was no way he could get that hurt working on Deep Space Radar Telemetry, no matter how many training accidents he was in. His cover story would be blown to smithereens, and there was no way he could know about the Stargate no matter how badly he wanted to tell him. He had to shoot him down early; besides he had more important things on his mind, like what had brought him there in the first place,

"God it's good to see you." He still hadn't let go.

What was that he heard in his brother's voice? Mac's uneasiness rose. He heard many emotions tangled together in that one statement. There was the obvious longing, but once he sifted through that, he realized something else. Lying hidden in the undertones was relief, anxiety, and worry. Many questions formed in his mind: What was wrong; why is he worried; and the ever important, what is he really doing here?

"Me too. Jack…what's wrong?" This he asked while he pushed his twin brother back, and looked him in the eye to get a straight answer from him. But Jack wouldn't meet his eye. In fact his gaze was glued to floor and wouldn't budge.

"Where were you this week?" 'Great,' Mac thought, 'He's changing the subject. Not this time.'

"Jack I asked you-"

"Mac, this is important!" Now he looked up into Mac's eyes. Brown met brown, and after a moment's hesitation where Mac could see their solemnity he answered,

"It wasn't anything dangerous if that's what you're asking," Jack gave him a silent look that, although he was relieved, told him to quit stalling and get on with it. "Pete and I were asked to investigate a senator who was getting campaign funds from some shady people. He was raising a lot of suspicions by some good friends of mine, and they didn't trust him."

"You were in D.C.?" His surprise was evident.

"Yeah… that's where a majority of senators usually are." Mac knew something was up when Jack ignored the tease to respond with more questions,

"But you were okay right? None of those shady people came after you? Nothing suspicious? You weren't hurt, attacked, threatened, ambushed-"

"Jack, I'm fine. What's gotten into you? Nothing happened, Pete and I are fine." Jack sighed with obvious relief and turned to sit back down on the bed. His brother followed, not planning on leaving him alone until he knew what had gotten him into such a stir. There weren't many things on this earth that could upset Jack O'Neill or make him nervous, but it was obvious that something had. "Jack, tell me. What's wrong?"

"About a week ago, I was sent to D.C. for a meeting with…some people,"
Jack was in D.C.? And he didn't notice? Their connection must have been getting a little rusty. Mac shook his head softly, well aware of all the things that could have possibly gone wrong with the two twins in the same city. "But that's not important. While I was there, I had noticed that I had picked up a tail. They didn't try anything while I was there, but they had followed me back home. I wasn't expecting them to, and they ambushed me in my home about," He looked outside the window and saw that it was now dark, "three days ago."

"Jack, that wound is not three days old."

"Are you going to let me tell the story or not?" He gave Mac a pointed look.

"Sure thing, go ahead, sorry."

"I'm at my house and three guys tried to get the drop on me."

"And you took 'em out…" he knew that no one was better at doing what he did than Jack, as cruel as it sounded, it was something he was used to.

"Naw, they were smarter than I'd give them credit for. They had someone waiting in a car and the cowards left before I could finish."

"Okay, but Jack I don't get it. Why are you here?"

He directed at Mac a gaze that paralleled the worried tones in his voice,

"Because they weren't after me Mac…they were after you." That stunned him into silence.

"Wha…wha…" he tried again, "What? How do you know?"

"Because, last time I checked, my name wasn't MacGyver."

"Huh?"

"When they attacked me, they called me MacGyver."

"Do you know who sent them?"

"Would I be here if I did?" That made him think a second. Jack would have most likely taken care of the threat without even telling him, and then have been on his merry way.

"No. So, what happened?"

"They got away, but I wasn't dead. MacGyver wasn't dead. They were hit men; they don't get paid until the job's done, and I don't want them to succeed in their job."

"What about afterwards. How did you get that?" he asked while gesturing towards the white bandages wrapped around jack's torso.

"This? Umm… well, I came here and staked out your place, but you weren't home." Thinking back on it, he was really stupid. 'They had mistaken you for MacGyver because you're his nonexistent twin brother, and you show up at his home, where the hit men will eventually turn up looking to kill the man that you resemble. Smart O'Neill.' It wasn't the most intelligent thing he had ever done, but he was worried about Mac and the only thing he was thinking about at the time was making sure that his little brother was safe. "Well, I wasn't careful enough and got ambushed."

"How many?" Mac knew that to overpower his brother there needed to be many baddies involved, or they had to be extremely skilled, or he was distracted, big time.

"Umm… six, but a few won't ever get up." Though he didn't enjoy killing, it was better for him to do it to them before they killed him, or worse, Mac.

"And then I came home…" He finished the story.

"Yep. Great timing by the way," he held up his index finger and thumb an inch apart, "You came this close to walking in on me breaking and entering."

"God, that would have given Pete a heart attack."

"Yeah? What about me?" They both chuckled. Jack was only six minutes older, but Mac was always teasing him about getting old, and occasionally he would give in and play along. That set off a memory for Jack from when he was growing up: they would spend their summers together, where the family that adopted him, the O'Neill's, would dump him with the MacGyver's. One time, to humor Mac, he had picked up a stick and bent over, using it as a cane. He had mimicked an old man's voice and had even called Mac "sonny". He snorted and, seeing Mac's curious expression, asked him if he remembered it.

Their minds currently occupied with a new train of thought, they momentarily forgot the danger that had caused this reunion. They spent the time reminiscing about funny stories and old times. Laughter filled the upstairs bedroom of the houseboat until Mac noticed that Jack was starting to droop and slow down, then he realized the time.

"It's late, and you're injured and you need your rest. We've both had a long, eventful day." He got up off the bed and headed towards his closet. "I'm guessing you didn't have time to pack?"

"Naw…(yawn)…I was in a little bit of a hurry."

"That's okay, you can borrow some of my clothes for now."

"Ah, the advantages of having an identical twin: You're always just-my-size."

"Shut your trap, and put this on. I'll not have you wearing that bloody rag you call a shirt in my house, or around me. You'll make me look bad." He tossed him a shirt and a pair of sweats; they'll worry about other clothes tomorrow, after a good night's rest.

"Hey," he protested, "I'll have you know, this used to be my favorite shirt!"

"Used to be,"

"Smart ass!" Jack threw one of the pillows he was resting on at Mac, messing up his hair in the process.

"Look who's talking!" Mac threw it right back.

"Yeahsureyabetcha." Jack grinned, despite the twinge of pain he felt in his side. He really shouldn't have thrown the darn pillow, but it reassured his brother that he was fine, which he was.

"Good night."

"Night bro."

Mac headed down the stairs to the couch. He was happy that he got to see his brother. He had really missed him; he just wished that the visit could have been under better circumstances. But he was exhausted. Spending a week in DC tailing, and investigating some pompous jerk of a senator was not his idea of a week well spent. It was thus his mind was occupied when he slipped into a deep sleep. It was so deep that he didn't hear the phone ringing. A little red light started to blink, alerting the owner of the machine that he had a new message; just no one was awake to see it.

After leaving his message, Pete sighed and hung up. 'Oh well, I guess I'll go home. No use in waking Mac up when I can spend the night in my own bed.' The original plan was that Pete would spend the night at Mac's while they stayed up, discussing the details of their investigation. They had dug up a lot of dirt and they wanted everything sorted and organized before they handed in their findings. But, since he had been stuck until late, or more accurately, early, working on paperwork for Phoenix, he was going to home. He would stop over at Mac's early in the morning to pick up his stuff. They could talk then. No biggie. Mac wasn't doing anything that he knew of, and would probably enjoy the company.

Pete yawned, 'Yep, that's what I'll do,' he resolved, 'First thing in the morning tomorrow.'

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Okay, the usual: The reviews really make me feel good, so the more I get, the faster the next part comes out. Come on, let me know what ya'll think.