Authors Note: Here's the second chapter. Thanks to Cort85, PatriciaS, and Nedy Rahn for their reviews.

Disclaimer: I own neither MacGyver or Stargate.

A gentle tapping on the door caused Jack to sit up. "Who is it?" he called.

His mother's voice answered him, "Jack are you alright? The sheriff just came by and..."

Jack jumped off the bed and opened the door. "I'm fine, Mom." If you call having a snake in my head fine.

"It wouldn't be a good idea to tell her about me." MacGyver ignored the snake comment.

"Ya think?" Jack mentally snorted. "I thought you were going to leave me alone?"

"I am but..."

"Jack?" Ellen gazed at her son worriedly. He was staring off into space, a blank look on his face. Jack was a good son, though he did get into trouble at times, and often caused her worry. Now that he was eighteen he was determined to join the Air Force. She couldn't change his mind and knew better than to try. If only her father hadn't left... but no. He'd probably encourage the notion. "Jack?" She asked again, seeing that he hadn't responded.

Jack shook his head. "See what you made me do?" "I'm fine mom," he repeated, "just a bit shook up."

She nodded understandingly and gave him a kiss. "I was just checking," she said. "You go ahead and get some rest. I'll bring some food up to you later."

Jack knew better than to protest. Besides, he needed to do some more thinking. "Alright, mom." He gave her a quick reassuring kiss back, and then she left.

"She sounds like a good woman."

"She is," Jack agreed. He then changed the subject, "So what exactly are you?"

"What do you mean?" MacGyver thought he had already explained himself.

"What are you? Why haven't I heard of things like you before?"

Jack could feel MacGyver wince, "Oh... well... I guess you could classify me as an alien. Not very many people know about my race."

Jack groaned. He definitely felt like he was in a sci-fi movie now. "So there are aliens in space?"

"Yeah, quite a few actually."

Jack jumped, as a good-sized rock flew into his room. He snatched it up with full intentions of dropping it on the thrower's head. He strode to the window and looked down. He'd guessed right. There was Jack Dalton standing underneath the tree.

"Hey, Jack!" Dalton waved. "I just heard the news. I came to the front door but your mom wouldn't let me in. She said you were resting."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't drop this on your head," Jack growled.

"You're not still mad at me are you?"

"You abandoned me!" With Jack's help, they might have finished sooner and none of this would have happened.

Dalton shuffled slightly. "I had things to do. Can you come down? At this rate your mom will hear us."

"How about you come up?"

"You know I can't climb trees!"

Jack sighed. "Alright, I'm coming down, but only to make sure this rock doesn't miss when I throw it."

Jack Dalton took a step back but smiled. He was used to Jack's threats.

Jack, with accustomed ease, swung out onto the branch. Looking down with careful aim, he dropped the rock.

Thud! It landed a few inches from Jack. He jumped backwards. "Hey!"

"Oops. I missed." Jack grinned.

MacGyver groaned and Jack felt the same nervousness he felt when climbing up the tree. "What?" he asked, at the same time clinging tighter to the branch above.

"I have a thing about heights."

"That's great, just great." Jack said aloud, soft enough so Dalton couldn't hear. He climbed down from the tree, and in a very creepy way felt MacGyver's relief at being on firm ground again.

"Come on. We can talk at the clubhouse," Jack addressed Dalton.

The clubhouse was a small shack a short distance from Jack's house. It was in a clearing surrounded by trees, though the forest was really only dense behind the shack. It was on nobody's property and nobody had claimed it, so the two Jacks and their friends had fixed it up and turned it into their base of operations. There were some lawn chairs, one rickety old wooden chair, and a large beanbag for seating. In the center of the room was a battered table that someone had thrown away. And at the back wall was a chest, filled with various objects.

Jack took the beanbag chair while Dalton took one of the lawn chairs.

"So, what happened?" Jack Dalton leaned forward in his chair.

Jack sighed, and proceeded to tell him the same story he had told the Sheriff.

When he was finished, Jack Dalton's eyes were wide as plates. "Do you know what this means!"

"What?" Jack asked.

"If they find out you're still alive, they'll be after you. And since I'm with you, they'll be after me too!"

"They hit me in the head," Jack said, sticking to his story. "They probably didn't mean to kill me. Anyway, they're long gone by now," Jack reassured him.

"I wouldn't bet on that."

"What do you mean?"

"There's a good chance that they might still be around."

"That's peachy, just peachy."

"Hey, Jack. I hate to interrupt your thoughts, but what's that smell?" Jack Dalton asked.

Jack took a deep breath, noticing for the first time the heavy scent that filled the air. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Smells like gasoline," he muttered. A crackling noise came to his ears, and the room became uncomfortably warm.

"Fire!" MacGyver and Jack yelled at once. Jack ran to the door. Placing a hand on it first, to see if it was hot, he turned the knob. Nothing happened.

"Fire!" Jack Dalton jumped to his feet. He watched as Jack threw himself against the door. "Why isn't the door opening!"

"It's locked!" Jack yelled. "Help me!"

Together they rushed at the door, crashing against it. It shuddered underneath the blow but didn't give. Just last week they had specially reinforced it, for the fun of it. Another charge gave the same results. "So much for extra strength!" Jack accused, before doubling over in a fit of coughing.

The heat was increasing and Jack could see fire licking at the timbers above. They were both choking heavily on the smoke now. They would have to open the door and get out or be burned to death. "What are we going to do?" Dalton's eyes, watering heavily with the smoke, held fear.

"I don't know!" Jack looked around him. Why hadn't they made a secret entrance like everyone else? Why couldn't they have put in windows?

"Do you have anything to pick the lock with?"

"No! I wasn't planning on getting trapped in a building. The door's lock was supposed to be broken. We don't even have a key!"

"Then I'm going to have to do something you're not going to like."

"You're what!" Jack didn't have time to say anything more. He felt himself being pushed back. He was losing control of his own body! Jack panicked, struggling against the sensation.

MacGyver was shocked at how hard it was to remain in control when Jack began fighting. They didn't have time for a war of wills. MacGyver released his hold, "Man, you're strong!"

Jack felt instant relief at being able to move by himself again. He twitched his fingers and took a step forward just to make sure he could. "Don't ever do that again!"

"Look. We don't have that much time. I'm not going to be able to guide you step by step! I'm going to have to take control. You can hate me for it later, just don't fight it."

The fire was eating at the walls now. MacGyver was right. Jack again felt himself lose control of his body. This time he refrained from panicking, allowing it to happen. He could still see and hear the fire, and he could still feel the heat, but he wasn't the one doing the moving. His body was, but he wasn't making the decisions.

Free from having to fight with Jack, MacGyver set to work. He tore a piece of cloth from his shirt and handed it to Dalton. "Wrap this around your mouth," he ordered. "It'll help with the smoke." He then did the same for himself.

Quickly he patted his, or rather Jack's, pockets, hoping for a knife. Finding them empty, he let his eyes dart about the room, searching for something useful. Some wire was lying in the far corner of the room, from when Jack had unsuccessfully tried to make a model airplane. He could barely see it through the smoke and he wasn't sure if it would do, but it was their only chance. He ran toward it, his hand reaching out to snatch it up.

A piece of wood broke off and fell, still burning, toward the floor. It landed on the outstretched hand, biting into the flesh. MacGyver howled in pain, jerking his hand back, while Jack joined mentally with his own howl. "What are you doing!" he yelled.

"Trying to get us out of here!" MacGyver answered. With his other hand he grabbed a piece of wire and rushed back to the door with it. Straightening it out, he winced, having to use his burned hand. He thrust the home-made pick into the lock. "This should do the trick."

"It better!" The fire was roaring close about them now. The heat was becoming unbearable. Jack Dalton was slumped against the wall, not moving, and Jack feared for his life.

"There!" MacGyver cried triumphantly. He flung the door open. Bending down, he grabbed Jack Dalton. Half dragging, half carrying, he pulled him out of the burning building.

As soon as they were a safe distance from the fire, MacGyver released his hold. Jack gratefully took control over his own body. "You didn't tell me you could do that! That definitely belongs in the bad section!"

"I was going to do it gradually."

"That was not gradual!"

"Sorry Jack, but it was necessary." MacGyver continued on grimly. "That fire wasn't accidental."

"Ya' think?"

"You saw them kill Frank. Until they're caught, they're going to keep trying to kill you. We're going to have to work together to catch them and bring them to justice."

Jack could sense MacGyver's anger, pain, and determination. He could tell that the death of Frank still hurt MacGyver. "You really liked Frank didn't you?"

"He was a good friend."

"So..." Jack was about to ask what MacGyver and Frank had been doing in this small town, and what these people were so willing to kill for, when he was interrupted by Jack Dalton stirring.

Jack looked anxiously down at his friend. "Jack, are you alright?"

Jack Dalton opened his eyes. "Hey, I'm alive! How'd we get out?"

"I picked the lock with a piece of wire," Jack replied.

"Since when did you learn to pick locks? We could have used that before."

Jack shook his head, ignoring the comment. "Look, we're going to have to get to a phone and call the fire department before this whole area burns. Can you walk?"

"Sure, Jack." Dalton stood up. "Whatever you say, amigo." He then noticed Jack's burned hand. "You're going to have to see a doctor about that."

Jack looked down at his hand. He had forgotten about it in the excitement, but now that he was reminded about it, it started to hurt again, badly. "Ouch," he stated.

"I can fix that." Instantly Jack felt a soothing sensation sweep over his hand. The pain dimmed.

"Uh, thanks." Jack said hesitantly. He then turned to go. "Come on, Jack." As he turned, something whistled past his head, and a second later he heard the shot. "Run!" he ordered. Pushing Jack Dalton in front of him, he sprinted off into the nearby woods, as more bullets zipped through the air.