AN: Thanks for your very kind response to the last episode, I'm glad you guys like which way I'm going with Mac and James's relationship! We get a little more of it in this ep, but don't worry (looking at you especially, Gib!), there's plenty of Jack (and lots of the Mac-n-Jack show we all know and love!). I think every fortnight for updates is probably going to be the norm for this story, with how busy I am this year, but it might pick up again in the Southern Hemisphere summer (which means I should at least finish this story before the end of the real Season 3…)
PHOENIX JET
SOMEWHERE OVER THE PACIFIC OCEAN
ON-ROUTE TO LA
Mac gave a little grin-smirk as the paperclip in his hands took the shape of a coconut.
(He and Jack had just spent three days in Vanuatu, neutralizing a threat to the US ambassador.)
Before you ask, coconuts were involved in the threat neutralization.
They're my favourite nut; their various parts have a whole array of uses, from serving as projectiles, a source of oil, for buffing floors or even as a substitute for blood plasma in a pinch.
And, of course, can't forget that they're delicious too.
Pretty awesome, right?
The grin faded a little as his phone chimed, an image of that iconic, world-shattering scene in Cloud City from The Empire Strikes Back appearing on his phone.
Mac picked it up and read the text from his dad, and sighed, rolling his eyes and muttering under his breath, what did I expect?
(He and his father had decided to play 20-squared questions, in an attempt to get to know each other again.)
(That, Mac thought, was the first step to rebuilding trust and perhaps some semblance of a healthy, functional relationship between them.)
(Some of James's answers were along the lines of 'classified', 'above your security clearance' and 'I can neither confirm nor deny…', and quite a few more were too evasive and vague for Mac's tastes – like the answer he'd just received – but he did seem to be genuinely trying to uphold his promise, within the constraints of his job and his own moral code, which Mac supposed was all he could really ask for.)
He read over his father's question and considered for a moment, before typing out a reply and putting down his phone, just as Jack's chimed (for the tenth time during this flight, not that Mac was consciously counting – he simply couldn't help it) and the older man smiled, soft and slow.
The cogs started turning in Mac's brain, and as Jack texted back, a little smirk, mixed with a happy, fond smile, grew on the blonde's face.
'Guess Riley really is as good as Lindsay Lohan…even if she doesn't have a twin to help her out.'
'You mean Hayley Mills; it's all about the original, brother! Reboots never work!'
Mac raised an incredulous eyebrow at his partner.
'A, the remake of The Parent Trap grossed over six times' its budget, was generally critically acclaimed and is considered a pop culture icon. B, the original film, which won two Oscars, is actually already an adaptation of a German novel…'
Jack studied his partner for a long moment.
'You pulling my leg, man?'
Mac held up his hands and shook his head.
'Das doppelte Lottchen. It's real, look it up if you don't believe me.'
Jack made a face.
'What kind of name for a book is that?'
Mac resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
'A German one. It means the double Lotties.'
Jack's face scrunched up a little more.
'German is a weird language.'
Well, I'm not going to disagree with him there.
I've got Turkish and Russian and Mandarin under my belt, spoken at least, which are all supposed to be far more difficult than German, but my German is honestly pretty dreadful.
Something about it just doesn't quite click for me.
Mac gestured at Jack's phone with a hand, then shot his partner a pointed look. Jack huffed out a sigh and shook his head with much fond exasperation.
'Changing the subject never works on you, does it?' He shook his head again, before he nodded. 'And yeah. Diane and I, we've been texting and talking.' A slow grin began to grow on Mac's face, and Jack pointed at him firmly. 'Now, don't you go counting your chickens before they hatch, and not a word to Ri, okay? We're taking this real slow, we got lots of important conversations to have, lots to work through and all.' That, Mac thought, was probably still an understatement. There was the fact of Jack's job, and the way their relationship had ended all those years ago; throw Riley and her recruitment to the Phoenix, into a very dangerous job, essentially by Jack, plus Jack's kinda, sorta friendship with Elwood, and Diane and Jack certainly had some very important conversations that they had to have. Something very soft, very serious, vulnerable and almost confessional appeared in the older man's eyes. 'We know we absolutely can't screw this up. And we don't wanna get Ri's hopes up, only to have 'em dashed and all, so…'
Mac nodded seriously, both in understanding and in a promise.
'My lips are sealed, I promise.' Jack gave a grateful little smile. 'And I have faith in you.'
Jack's smile widened a little, and then he pointed at the blonde.
'And I got faith in you, son.'
He firmly believed that one day, Mac would find the right one, find himself a good woman to love and honour and cherish 'till death did they part and have baby MacGyvers (who'd take apart the toaster and make the TV sound like Big Bird and marvel over their dad's prism collection) with.
Mac stared back at the older man for a brief moment, then looked away, something sad and longing and wistful in his expression, but also resigned, certain.
Like he really, really, really wanted something, but knew he couldn't have it. Couldn't reach out for it.
Because he felt it was wrong.
(As far as Jack knew, Mac hadn't been on a date for months, not since sometime last November. Before Zoe. Before Murdoc shot Cage. Before the assassin shot Mac and saved his life, escaped their custody and kidnapped Cassian. Before Mac had become more and more consumed with searching for his father.)
(Jack really couldn't blame him; it was a hell of a lot of drama for one guy's life, throw in Mac's job and how hard that made it to meet someone, schedule a date and actually make it to said date…well, the odds hadn't been in his favour.)
(But, Jack sensed – he might not be a science whiz like his partner, but he was a bit of a genius when it came to reading him, if he could say so himself – there was now another obstacle to Mac finding the right one.)
(An obstacle that'd always been there, true…but was now much bigger.)
Mac looked back over at Jack, fingers fiddling with a paperclip.
'I can't lie, Jack.'
He sounded almost exactly like he had more than a year and a half ago, in the US embassy in Latvia, just after Bozer had found out what his BFF really did for a living, simply now even more sure, even more certain that he simply could not lie to a girlfriend or a wife about his job.
(Jack really, really couldn't blame him, given the big reveal of ten days ago.)
Jack looked back at him for a long, long moment, sad and wistful too, but also fond, eyes with more than a hint of admiration in them.
'You're really limiting the pool.'
Mac nodded.
'I know.' He swallowed. 'But doing the right thing always comes at a cost.' Mac shrugged, then a small smile grew on his face and he gestured to Jack. 'Besides, I've got you guys.'
Jack smiled that soft, fond smile back.
'And you always will, brother.'
Still, Jack thought to himself, that wasn't quite the same. As much as they loved Mac, as much as they would always be there for him…Jack knew that the younger man was lonely in a way that they, as his family, as his friends, could never help him with.
Mac was one of the best men he'd ever met, if not the best.
Jack was intimately familiar with how much Mac had sacrificed and would sacrifice for the world, for the safety of others.
For good and for peace, for all.
If there was any justice in the universe, he thought, surely the very least that Mac deserved was to have someone to love and to be loved by.
As Mac dived back into the issue of New Scientist that he'd had stashed in his go-bag, Jack gave a little smirk that slowly widened.
Well, maybe there wasn't any justice in the universe. Not naturally, anyway.
But Jack had always fancied himself a bit of a vigilante.
Maybe he could go a little Batman on his partner's love life.
PHOENIX FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS
SOMEWHERE IN LA
'…This is Martin Stynes…' An image of a slightly overweight, middle-aged man wearing glasses and a very smart suit appeared on the screen as Matty gestured to it. '…and Eliza Lim.' A picture of an Asian woman who couldn't be much older than her early thirties, hair immaculately styled into a bun, appeared next to Stynes. 'They work for Lockheed Martin on a series of classified DoD projects. They're also suspected to be selling classified intel from said projects.'
Mac, Jack, Bozer and Riley all exchanged a glance, Mac reaching for a paperclip from the bowl without even thinking about it. Jack spoke.
'So, where they at and how're we gonna take 'em down?'
Matty put her hands on her hips and shot Jack a look.
'I'm getting there, Dalton! Patience is a virtue!'
Bozer jogged Riley lightly with his elbow.
'And clearly, it isn't one of Jack's.'
Riley raised an eyebrow at him (read the room!), but seemed to agree anyway.
Jack affected an affronted expression, which made Mac give a little smirk and shake his head in amusement, until Matty quirked an eyebrow at them and they all fell silent and serious again.
'Stynes and Lim have just so happened to both take leave at the same time and go on vacation to the exact same place.'
A picture of Las Vegas appeared on screen, and Jack did a fist-pump.
'Hell, yeah! Viva Las Vegas, baby!'
Matty put her hands on her hips again and leaned closer to Jack.
'You are going to Vegas to do your job and neutralize a threat to national security.'
Jack immediately gulped at the look on her face, affected a serious expression and nodded, then saluted Matty, even clicking his heels together.
'Yes, ma'am!'
Matty nodded, as if to say, thank you, sarcastically.
'You four are to get the proof we need to take down Lim, Stynes and the potential buyer or buyers.' They all nodded seriously. 'Wheels up in 30. Riley, Jill's sent you all we have on Stynes, Lim and any suspected prospective buyers…'
THE PALAZZO CASINO AND HOTEL
LAS VEGAS
Jack groaned as the man sitting across from him in a huge cowboy hat tossed down his hand and scooped the pot.
(He told himself that he'd only lost because he wasn't paying that much attention to the game, since he was keeping an eye out for Lim and Stynes.)
The woman sitting next to him (from her accent, he was pretty sure she was Kenyan) raised a challenging eyebrow at him.
'Are you thinking of giving up, Mr…?'
'Agnew. Curtis Agnew.' Curtis Agnew was a Texan whose family had made their money in cattle ranching and had decided to take up investing in start-ups in Silicon Valley, though he had a reputation for having more money than sense or an understanding of science, technology and engineering. (At least, that's what the backstopped cover the Phoenix had prepped for him said. Jack had filled in some of the blanks on the jet already; Curtis's favourite food was a good old chicken fried steak, he wasn't a big fan of cowboy hats, controversially, but always wore cowboy boots, and he was definitely a dog person, not a cat person.) 'And nah, we Agnews never give up.'
'One martini, shaken, not stirred, coming right up, sir.'
Bozer, dressed in a very smart waistcoat like all the other bartenders and waiters at the casino bar, nodded with his best customer service smile at the slightly-balding, painfully lean man in wire-rimmed glasses. He turned to grab his cocktail shaker, eyes sweeping out over the bar as he did so, discreetly searching for Lim or Stynes. Neither of them had showed yet, but their op was only six hours old.
(He had, however, gotten the 'martini, shaken, not stirred' order four times already.)
(Mac insisted that martinis were better stirred, not shaken. He'd even devised a set of experiments to prove it.)
(That night had ended with the two BFFs having a really weird, but really heartfelt and touching drunken conversation.)
(Still, Bozer still wasn't convinced, despite how amazing his BFF was at all things science, and despite the fact that Mac was pretty much always right.)
(James Bond liked his martinis shaken. James Bond was James Bond!)
Mac took the three chips from the blackjack dealer with a smile, adding them to his already-substantial rack of chips.
Blackjack was easy.
It was all probability. Maths with a side of card-memorizing.
(All things that were right up his alley…and skills he'd honed at MIT.)
(They hadn't just done non-faculty-approved experiments in the Tombs.)
(He and Frankie and Smitty and their friends had done more typical college activities too…just with an MIT twist.)
(Blackjack had gotten boring after a while, but their poker games had been really, really intense.)
He seemingly idly scanned the room, pretending to think, instead searching carefully and quickly for Lim or Stynes.
Neither of them were anywhere to be seen. From the occasional chatter on his comm, Jack, Riley and Bozer hadn't seen either of them either.
That concerned him somewhat, as his brain started throwing out potential explanations, started pointing out potential flaws in their intel.
(He discounted almost all of them at once, however.)
As a consequence, he didn't pay enough attention to the round, and the dealer won, despite the fact that it was, he realized, mathematically possible for him to have won.
Still, that was probably a good thing.
If he won at the average rate he'd won in his MIT days, he'd definitely arouse the suspicion of casino security, and that was something that neither he, nor his cover (Travis Bates, MIT grad, engineer and sometime business partner of Curtis Agnew), wanted.
And hey, it's not my money.
Riley, wearing a very tasteful and elegant, yet very much still 'knockout' silky jewel-green dress with gold heels and jewellery, lounged in the booth she'd claimed, sipping at the cocktail in front of her.
(At least, it looked like a cocktail. It was mostly pineapple juice and contained absolutely no alcohol.)
(It'd been purchased for her by an admirer - apparently, even an 'off-duty' lounge singer, who hadn't actually performed in the last eight hours, and had no intention of performing, and wouldn't have to, thanks to Jill getting into the rostering system, still attracted fans, which was honestly a little creepy – but Bozer had made it and delivered it to her, so she knew it was safe to drink.)
(He was responsible for turning the cocktail into a mocktail.)
Subtly, she tapped her comm in the pre-arranged signal, checking in and reporting what she'd seen.
Which was nothing.
Riley pulled out a compact mirror and a stick of lipstick from her little clutch (which was a lot roomier on the inside than it looked, since it was a custom job by Mac and Bozer), holding up the mirror to let her see into the one major blind-spot she had from her position.
She caught a flash, just a flash, of a man who looked remarkably like Stynes (at least, Stynes in profile – she didn't get to see his face from the front, as he was only passing the lounge bar, heading towards the gaming tables).
Idly, casually, she finished touching up her lipstick and put her makeup and mirror away, before taking a sip of her drink and tapping her comm again subtly in a different pattern.
She got two sets of three identical taps back.
'…Yeah, good eyes, Ri. We got Stynes here, he's…woo, boy…playing on one of those high-roller tables.'
Jack stepped behind a pillar and spoke quietly (for him, at least) into his earpiece.
'He must have gotten an advance pay-out from the buyer, I'm texting Matty and Jill now.'
That was Bozer. Jack glanced over at Stynes again, who was very engrossed in his poker game.
'We gotta get closer to him…any ideas on how we're gonna get him away from that table?'
It was Mac who responded (which they'd honestly all expected – he was the ideas man, after all).
'We're not going to pull him away from his game; I'm going to join in.'
Jack (already mentally planning how he was going to explain the theft of a very large amount of poker chips or something like that to Matty – he knew Mac could do it without being caught, but the expense report was going to be terrible, he just knew it) made a face.
'Where you gonna get the buy-in, brother? You know Matty will be pissed if we gotta call in for, like, 100K in cash…'
'Not a problem, Jack.'
At that moment, Mac casually walked by, seemingly also casually hefting the rack of chips (the really, really full rack of chips) in his right hand.
Jack couldn't help but gape a little, and muttered under his breath.
'I know your mortgage is all paid off already…but seriously, you mind helping out a friend with his? I'll shout you a long weekend here in Vegas...'
TWO HOURS LATER
Stynes let out a low whistle, genuinely impressed, and turned a little in his seat to address Mac.
'Where'd you learn to play like that, kid?'
Several of the other players around the table also glanced over at him, very keen (though they hid it quite well, being good poker players themselves) to hear the answer.
(Mac had won the last three games, after all.)
The blonde gave a half-shrug, a little smile-smirk appearing on his face.
'MIT.'
As Mac built a rapport with Stynes, with Riley as backup and a second pair of eyes (she was playing a few rounds of roulette at a wheel that had a really good view of Stynes from another angle while on her 'break'), Jack and Bozer finally caught sight of Lim.
She'd walked into the bar…and ordered club soda with lime.
Bozer had prepared her drink and managed to catch sight of a USB stick on a lanyard (which Lim had quickly tucked back into her shirt once she'd noticed it was dangling out, though she didn't seem suspicious of Bozer in the slightest – from his time as a burger-flipper, Bozer was well aware that a certain subset of the population, which Lim clearly belonged to, treated waitstaff and the like pretty much as furniture and paid no attention to them).
Jack had, a few minutes later, walked casually into the bar and ordered Jack Daniels and coke.
(Bozer had poured him something that was really, really heavy on the coke and really, really light on the Jack.)
He was now sitting in a corner of the bar, nursing his drink and apparently arguing with some business partners on his phone.
Lim had done nothing but occasionally sip at her soda while frequently texting or emailing someone on her phone. Her expression was serious, and she was clothed in business attire, despite supposedly being on holiday.
(In contrast, her apparent partner in the intel theft was barely adhering to the casino's dress code – a Hawaiian shirt didn't exactly scream classy casino wear.)
She made a noise of frustration, and sculled her drink, putting the empty glass back on the table with a loud thunk. Bozer, who was bussing tables, collecting empty glasses, took the opportunity to stop by her table and held out a hand for her glass.
'A refill, ma'am?'
Lim didn't even look up at him, she just nodded dismissively, muttering at her phone.
'Half now, half later, not hard to understand, 5% is not a gesture of good faith…'
Bozer picked up several more empty glasses on his way to Jack's table.
'Can I interest you in a refill, sir?' He leaned a little closer to Jack to pick up the older man's glass, and whispered as he did. 'You thinking what I'm thinking?'
'Oh, Lim's definitely wearing the pants in this partnership. Err…metaphorically speaking.' She was wearing a pencil skirt. Stynes had, at least, followed the letter of the dress code, and was wearing long khakis. 'Ri, reckon you can get into her computer?'
'I'll probably need to get into her room; I doubt she's connected it to the free Wi-Fi. And chances are, she's got the intel and anything else important on that USB and not on her laptop. It's what I'd do.'
'Well, let's hope the bad guys ain't as smart as you, Riles.'
'Yeah, I'm going to need to get into Lim's room.' Riley, secreted in a room that was supposedly closed for a really thorough cleaning due to some really rowdy guests, made a noise of frustration as her last trick for hacking into Lim's computer (or phone) without physically accessing it failed. 'Mac?'
'Jack and I are a little tied up. Uh…not literally.' That was an important distinction, with their line of work. 'We've got dinner with Stynes and Lim in twenty.'
Stynes seemed intrigued by the (entirely fictional – well, for now, he was feeling inspired) automatic, autonomous lawnmower, best described as a Roomba for lawns, that Travis Bates had invented.
He also seemed very keen to pick Mac's brain for poker tips.
Thus, the invitation for Travis and his business partner to have dinner with him and his business partner.
Bozer's voice sounded out over their comms.
'Hey, Mac, would that thing you did at the hotel when your grandpa took us to Boston, Spring Break of Senior Year, work here?'
Riley could hear the little grin-smirk on Mac's face as he replied.
'Exactly what I was thinking, Boze. You remember how to do it?'
She could also hear the corresponding grin-smirk on Bozer's face when he replied.
'How could I forget, bro?'
FANCY RESTAURANT
(VERY FANCY RESTAURANT)
LAS VEGAS
Stynes and Lim both stood as Mac and Jack, dressed in very sharp suits, walked up to their table. Lim held out a hand to Jack first, then Mac, shaking both their hands with a polite, albeit perfunctory and very business-like smile on her face, while Stynes grinned and clapped the younger man on the back, before doing the same to Jack.
'Travis has told me all about you, Curtis!'
Jack nodded slowly with a look on his face as if to say oh, really? He turned to Mac, raising an eyebrow.
'All good things, I hope?'
Mac just shook his head and rolled his eyes.
Jack was ridiculous.
(And he wouldn't have him any other way.)
OUTSIDE LIM'S ROOM
THE PALAZZO CASINO AND HOTEL
LAS VEGAS
Riley and Bozer, dressed in the very smart uniforms of the hotel's waiters, Bozer pushing a trolley covered in cloches and dishes, Riley bearing a large vase of flowers (all 'creatively obtained'), walked towards Lim's door. Riley knocked loudly and shifted so that she and her very large vase of flowers, combined with the heavily-laden trolley, hid what Bozer was doing from the vast majority of vantage points.
(She'd already looped the hotel security cameras, but they could never be too careful.)
'Room service!'
The door clicked open, Bozer making a little noise of triumph and slipping a modified business card back into his pocket, before reaching a hand under the top of the trolley, pressing a button on the handy little signal jammer that Mac had made that he and Riley had duct-taped to the trolley, to prevent any alerts from any security system that Lim might have had in place being sent out.
Riley smiled as if there was someone on the other side of the door, holding out the flowers.
'Where would you like them, ma'am?'
She and Bozer then stepped inside, Bozer pushing the trolley in, the door clicking closed behind them.
Once inside the room, Riley set down the flowers on the nearest flat surface, but not before retrieving a small bug stuck to the underside of the vase, sticking it instead to the underside of the coffee table that she put the flowers on.
Meanwhile, Bozer started lifting the cloches, to reveal several gadgets, some standard Phoenix issue, some non-standard Mac-issue (nothing Mac made was ever standard), and some a hybrid of both. He grabbed the bug sweeper, and started sweeping the room for any bugs that Lim and/or Stynes might have planted.
Riley quickly searched for and located Lim's laptop, and after pulling on a pair of gloves, bent over it and started typing.
FANCY RESTAURANT
(VERY FANCY RESTAURANT)
LAS VEGAS
'...well, the first prototype was a disaster.'
'It was not!'
'It chewed through your deck and, like, two pairs of your shoes, man. That's a disaster!'
'Those deck posts needed replacing and my shoes needed re-soling anyway.'
'Yeah, yeah, whatever you said, brother. Whatever you say.'
Jack shook his head with a grin and jerked a thumb at Mac as if to say, can you believe this guy?
Stynes roared with laughter at the Mac-n-Jack show, and even Lim cracked an amused little smile.
Mac rolled his eyes and returned to his steak, cutting a bite-sized piece, putting it into his mouth and chewing.
At least dinner was delicious.
(His steak was a perfect medium-rare. In other words, perfectly cooked.)
(The same couldn't be said of Jack's so-blue-it-was-practically-mooing steak.)
We long ago agreed to disagree on how a perfectly-cooked steak should be cooked.
We had to.
It was the only way to save our friendship.
Let's just say…that argument was only an order of magnitude or so milder than the bolt carrier incident, which, trust me, is really saying something.
But that's a story for another day.
LIM'S ROOM
THE PALAZZO CASINO AND HOTEL
LAS VEGAS
Riley made a noise of triumph.
'I'm in!'
She pulled a specially-designed thumb drive from her pocket (it could hold way more data than an average one, and automatically encrypted everything downloaded onto it with the encryption code Riley, Jill and some other techs had put together), and inserted it into Lim's laptop.
Bozer paused in his bug deactivation, putting down the thingamajig that somehow destroyed the bug's function without physically damaging it, so as to be almost undetectable (he didn't understand how it worked – Mac had tried to explain, but he'd gotten a little too excited and hence a little too technical for Bozer to follow - but it was a seriously awesome piece of tech), and reached out to bump his fist to Riley's with a grin.
TRAVIS BATES' ROOM
THE PALAZZO CASINO AND HOTEL
LAS VEGAS
Later that evening, after Bozer and Riley had wrapped up their B&E and Mac and Jack their dinner (they hadn't really gotten any useful intel out of Stynes and Lim, but they had kept them busy and distracted, and they did know that their meeting with the prospective buyer wasn't until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest, since Stynes had invited both 'Travis' and 'Curtis' to play the tables with him the next morning), Riley typed busily, her headphones in as she conferenced with Jill back at the Phoenix as they combed through the entire contents of Lim's laptop (as Riley had suspected, almost everything incriminating wasn't on it, presumably on the USB that Lim had with her instead, but there were still a few useful nuggets of intel on her laptop; they just had to find them all), while Jack cleaned his weapons methodically.
Meanwhile, Mac and Bozer sat on the other side of the room, variously packing up, unpacking and modifying their mission gear.
Eventually, Bozer spoke as he finished brushing out the hair on a wig, which had somehow gotten tangled despite his best efforts when packing it. He pointed at his best friend, who was doing something to what Bozer was pretty sure used to be a walkie-talkie using bits taken from what probably had once been the hotel room's hairdryer.
'Seriously, man, you'd be an awesome movie protagonist, you know, save the world every other week, Hollywood good looks, charming quirks, those cheesy-yet-heartfelt lines you like to throw out…' Bozer's voice shifted meaningfully in tone. '…the daddy issues…'
Mac raised an eyebrow, and smiled at his best friend, a little confused, rather amused and definitely very fond.
'Uh…thanks, Boze?'
Bozer grinned at him, then his expression grew much more serious.
'If you wanna talk, my door's always open.' He paused. 'Figuratively. Uh, probably good idea to knock first, we don't want a repeat of…well, you know.' He and Mac had pinkie-promised to never talk about that again. 'Anyway, knock, anytime, even if you just want a repeat of '01.'
Bozer had done everything he could to comfort Mac when his dad had left. Being a twelve year old boy, that might not have seemed like much, but to Mac, his BFF's constant attempts to cheer him up (ranging from baking him an incredible eight-layer chocolate cake, to stuffing him with grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, to inviting him to play mini-golf or go bowling, to going on very long walks around the neighbourhood with Mac and Archimedes which inevitably turned into runs – Archimedes was really fast and somehow frequently managed to slip his leash or tug it free – to spending hours in Mac's room or their treehouse-lab, just listening and offering words and hugs of comfort in turn) had been a very bright light at the end of a very dark tunnel.
Mac smiled, soft and fond, and reached out to pull Bozer into a side-hug.
'Thanks, Boze.'
Bozer smiled right back at him, returning the hug.
'Anytime, bro. Anytime.' Then, he pointed at the blonde. 'You know what we definitely should have a repeat of? That seriously incredible eight-layer chocolate cake.'
Mac grinned and pointed right back at his BFF.
'Exactly what I was thinking.'
Bozer grinned wider.
'Hey, great minds think alike! I'm sure I've still got the recipe somewhere…'
Fifteen minutes later, Riley pulled off her headphones and motioned over to the three men, as Matty and Jill appeared on the screen, Matty standing in the war room, Jill perched on the arm of one of the chairs.
'We have an ID on the buyer.' A picture of an Arab man wearing a red-and-white check scarf around his head with a beard who looked to be in his mid-sixties appeared on half of the screen. 'Tariq Al-Yami.' Matty paused. 'Who also happens to be the owner of the Palazzo, as of two months ago.'
Jill piped up from where she was sitting with her laptop on her lap.
'And he's got a seriously dodgy reputation…but no-one's ever been able to make any charges stick.'
Mac, Jack, Bozer and Riley all exchanged a glance.
They all knew that their mission had just gotten an awful lot more complicated.
Al-Yami, of course, had casino security in his pocket.
And he'd never get his own hands dirty, he'd have a lackey or lackeys do all the dirty work, so trying to pin this all on him was going to be seriously difficult.
Jack rubbed his hands together.
'Alright, what's the plan?' They all knew that they'd have to keep the casino security occupied while they got the evidence they needed to take down Stynes, Lim and Al-Yami. He glanced at Mac particularly when he said that. 'We gonna go all Ocean's 11? 'Cause seriously, it ain't Die Hard, and Clooney's no Bruce, but it's still pretty high on the Dalton Awesome Scale.'
Riley gave a snort and raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms and shooting Jack a look.
'There's a Dalton Awesome Scale?'
Jack nodded, as if it was obvious.
'Of course. It's in Daltons.'
The hacker rolled her eyes and exchanged a glance with Mac and Bozer, who both shook their heads, the former letting out a long-suffering sigh, the latter giving a little chuckle.
'Of course it is.'
'The Dalton is already a unit of measurement, it's the standard unit of mass for atomic mass…' Mac trailed off, his I-have-an-idea face appearing, then pointed at his partner. 'You're a genius.'
Jack preened.
'See, he approves of the Dalton Awesome Scale, Ri-'
'Not regarding the Dalton Awesome Scale, it's so subjective and specific it's really not useful, and you need to come up with a new unit for it anyway, since Dalton is already in use…' Mac shook his head, getting back on topic. 'No, Ocean's 11.'
BAR
THE PALAZZO CASINO AND HOTEL
LAS VEGAS
Bozer smiled at the stunning woman in a lacy black dress and bright-red lipstick who was sitting at a table, waiting for the man whom he assumed was her boyfriend to come back from the bathroom. He gestured at the very well-built man across the room with the edge of a nasty-looking scar poking out from under his collar.
(It was probably a product of having watched too many movies, having too wild an imagination and his line of work, but Bozer would bet at least 10% of Mac's winnings from the day before that the man was some kind of Mafia enforcer.)
'Compliments of the gentleman over there.'
He'd timed it perfectly, because the woman's equally well-built boyfriend (who gave off pretty similar vibes as the other guy), walked up to her just then.
He glared at Bozer, then at the man across the room, and Bozer gulped and beat a hasty retreat, his job done.
(It was in-character.)
(Also, he really didn't want to get into the crossfire of this one.)
SLOT MACHINES
THE PALAZZO CASINO AND HOTEL
LAS VEGAS
'Oh my God! I won! I won!'
The middle-aged woman let out a high-pitched cry of excitement, jumping up and down and reaching out to hug the stranger next to her.
Several machines away, another jackpot symbol lit up, and the young man at the machine made a noise of disbelief, before grabbing one of his buddies into a hug that involved a lot of back-slapping.
As the spontaneous celebrations grew louder and more raucous, a third machine, two rows away, lit up, and there were more screams.
As casino security staff began muttering to one another on their earpieces, looking (understandably) suspicious, beginning to discretely investigate, Mac gave a little smile-smirk and reached up to tap his earpiece in a series of dots and dashes.
(Riley's Morse code wasn't as good as Jack's or his, but he knew she'd understand great job and thank you.)
BAR
THE PALAZZO CASINO AND HOTEL
LAS VEGAS
'Ladies, ladies!' Three security guards were trying to break up a melee between two young women in evening gowns. It was proving to be a very difficult task, especially since the other four security guards in the room were dealing with dragging two very burly and very angry (and very jealous) men out of the bar, as well as the surprisingly vicious girlfriend of one of them. 'We have a situation in Sector 4, requesting back-up…'
(Honestly, Bozer had only intended to cause a scene, by playing a clumsy waiter and bumping into one of the two women enough to cause her to spill her drink on the other.)
(He had not been planning on the catfight, but it was proving to be a really useful distraction.)
(Sure, it wasn't in the plan, but Bozer figured no-one would complain.)
(They actually had a plan – a pretty detailed plan – for once, so…)
POKER TABLES
THE PALAZZO CASINO AND HOTEL
LAS VEGAS
'…Hey, he's cheating!'
'I am not!'
'You can't have the Ace of Spades, 'cause I have it!'
'Security, we have a situation…'
As all-round chaos erupted, Mac slipped out of the casino area, and into the very classy VIP lounge, the one that Riley (or rather, her cover) supposedly worked in, where they'd determined that Stynes and Lim were meeting Al-Yami's henchmen.
When I was fourteen, I devoted hours and hours to perfecting the art of illusion.
Magic is definitely not real, but magic tricks definitely are.
For some reason, I thought it'd impress Darlene Martin. Or, you know, at least maybe get a girl who wasn't Penny to actually talk to me about something other than borrowing my homework.
Yeah, I know. Fourteen-year-old me was a pretty stupid genius.
But those sleight of hand skills were not learned in vain.
I just never considered actually utilizing this potential application when I was fourteen.
VIP LOUNGE
(REALLY, REALLY VIP VIP LOUNGE)
THE PALAZZO CASINO AND HOTEL
LAS VEGAS
Mac casually strolled into the lounge, and, glancing around as if he was looking for the person he was meant to be meeting, he spotted Riley, in a seat near the piano, sipping what looked like pineapple juice, then located Jack and smiled and gave a nod at his supposed business partner and slipped a hand into the pocket of his suit jacket to turn on the recording device that he and Riley had put together.
(It had a good range of up to 20 feet for really clear recordings, up to 50 for something that'd need clean-up with one, or several, of Riley or Jill's programs, but unfortunately, it couldn't transmit the data to the Phoenix or to the FBI team that Matty had standing by while it was inside the casino.)
(The casino had a lot of security to both jam and detect any transmissions within the premises, for good reason.)
(Mac and Jack would either have to get the device outside or into the hotel area to send out the evidence they collected.)
Jack had staked out a booth for them that was only about 15 feet from the table where Stynes and Lim were sitting at, the older man looking reasonably serious (he'd ditched the Hawaiian shirt for business attire), the younger woman looking just as business-like as she'd been the day before, albeit a little impatient, but handily hidden behind a combination of a large potted plant, a pillar and some beaded-curtain-sculpture-hybrid.
(Besides, even if Lim and Stynes spotted them, it wasn't exactly suspicious for Travis Bates and Curtis Agnew to be drinking in the VIP lounge anyway.)
A very pretty cocktail waitress set down a drink in front of Mac (a martini, which Mac was sure would be shaken, not stirred – which he maintained was not the proper way to be drinking a martini, no matter what James Bond thought – knowing his partner), smiling at him in a way that Jack knew was definitely not a customer service smile. Not even a sucking-up-for-tips one.
Mac, being Mac and being very focused on the mission at that moment, didn't notice.
Jack gave her an apologetic little smile and handed her a $20 tip (funded from a couple of the chips he'd taken from Mac's winnings that morning – Curtis Agnew was definitely the type to splash the cash, and he had to play his cover to the hilt, of course – besides, there were still, like, 100 chips sitting in that rack). The waitress seemed to cheer up a tiny bit, just as Mac gave Jack a little nod, shifting his martini a little, in a way that could have just been thanking his partner for the drink, but Jack knew wasn't.
He took a look in one of the shiny silver metal balls that made up that really weird sculpture and caught a glimpse of a very well-dressed man of Arab appearance, flanked by no fewer than six bodyguards. Five of the guards took positions around the room, the sixth remaining by the (presumably) head lackey's side as he shook hands with Lim and Stynes, taking a seat opposite them.
Jack and Mac exchanged a glance, the expression on the older man's face clearly saying it's show-time, Mac picking up the olive from his martini glass and eating it, before pocketing the toothpick.
(He had a particular soft-spot for martinis that didn't have much to do with James Bond and had an awful lot to do with toothpicks.)
(They were so useful!)
'…How do we know he can pay?'
The chief lackey gave an elegant snort.
'Miss Lim, I am not a fool. You have done your research into my boss.' He paused, something bragging in his tone. 'Besides, look around you…'
Mac and Jack exchanged a significant look. That was probably enough, at least enough to get a subpoena to do some more thorough digging on Al-Yami.
Unfortunately, at that moment, one of the bodyguards posted around the room caught Jack's gaze.
Clearly, this bodyguard was really, really good. Had those instincts that some said you had to be born with, and some said could be honed with long enough in their line of work, because he seemed to recognize Jack for what he was, or at least, his suspicions were raised enough, because he started moving towards him and Mac.
Jack swore under his breath, and he and Mac wasted no time jumping up from their seats and running over to the discreet door that led to the kitchen area, Mac in the lead, having already memorized the casino layout while on the jet.
The six bodyguards all exchanged a look, before five of them gave chase, the sixth remaining beside his boss, as Al-Yami's man, Lim and Stynes all exchanged a look, Lim shifting a little in her seat as if she wanted to get out of there, even as Al-Yami's man tried to assure her that his men had the situation under control.
As he narrowly avoided barrelling into a waiter carrying a whole tray of champagne glasses, Mac pressed a hand to his earpiece.
'We can't let them leave the lounge…' They all knew that if that happened, Lim and Stynes would be in the wind, and they'd have a hell of a time tracking them down again. '…Riley-'
'I'm on it.'
There was something a tiny bit unsteady in her voice, but it also, somehow, sounded very sure, very confident, at the same time.
Mac pushed his curiosity and the touch of worry aside for the moment (Riley could handle herself, and besides, he and Jack had bigger problems to deal with right now – he shoved a trolley covered in dirty dishes in the direction of one of the bodyguards who'd gotten too close for comfort), and kept running.
Mac and Jack jumped over the bar that Bozer was working behind, Mac brushing against his best friend, though he didn't even stop to look at him or apologize.
Bozer, too, played his part perfectly, as Mac and Jack sprinted through the bar, barely avoiding the patrons.
'Hey, what the hell, man?' He turned to another one of the bartenders. 'We need to call security…'
Three of the five bodyguards practically shoved Bozer and his fellow bartender aside, knocking the other man to the floor. Bozer managed to catch himself on the edge of the bar, as the other two bodyguards rushed into the room, and swore as they just missed Mac and Jack.
Riley, swallowing her nerves, not letting them show at all, strode up to the piano, a seductive little smile on her face, and elegantly picked up the microphone, leaning over to whisper something to the pianist.
The man nodded, and started to play, and Riley took a deep breath, then plastering that little smile back on her face, putting a deliberate swing in her hips, strode over to Al-Yami's chief henchman, beginning to sing.
'There's a saying old, says that love is blind…'
Just as she'd intended, all eyes in the lounge turned to him.
Trapping him, and his companions.
'…only man I ever think of with regret...'
As the beautiful, haunting, rich and pitch-perfect voice rang out over his comm, Bozer almost dropped the tray of glasses he was carrying through one of the service corridors, to the autoclave.
It was less so the incredible, amazing quality of the voice…but more the fact that he recognized it.
He hadn't known Riley could sing.
Clearly, the lady was seriously, totally, amazingly, incredibly awesome.
Mac started a little as he and Jack ran into the casino.
Well, you do learn something new every day. Even, sometimes, about the people you know best.
Jack just smiled, soft and fond.
He hadn't heard Riley sing often, and he hadn't heard her sing for years, but somewhere, deep in his heart of hearts, he'd truly missed it.
(Riley was really, really good.)
(But Diane was even better.)
(Once upon a time, she used to sing for him. Well, for herself too – she loved it - but when it was just the two of them.)
(A private show.)
(He hoped that he'd get another one of those one day.)
(He wished, quietly and secretly, deep in his heart of hearts, that he might just get a whole lifetime of them.)
As one of the bodyguards cornered him by one of the poker tables, Mac reached into his pocket and tossed the small black box in there at his partner, 15 feet away, who, drawing on his high school and college football days, caught it, pushing the bodyguard who ran at him aside in a truly football-style move and making for the doorway on the other side of the room. Mac, meanwhile, as the bodyguards focused their attention on his partner, seized a deck of cards from a quite shell-shocked dealer, and started precisely throwing them at a precise angle and with a precise amount of force, with a special flick of his wrist, at the exposed skin of the bodyguards chasing Jack.
He struck one in the neck, causing him to flinch a little (papercuts really, really, really stung), and bring a hand back to rub the wound. Mac took that chance to hit the man in his right hand, across the knuckles, with a card, before throwing one at the exposed wrist of another bodyguard.
He saw an opportunity out of the corner of his eye and took it, pulling an empty chair from one of the nearby tables and flinging it into the path of a third bodyguard, causing the man to trip over it and hit the deck hard, as he only sort-of managed to get his hands out to cushion the blow.
Barely stopping to check his handiwork, Mac threw another playing card at the bodyguard he'd already cut twice, finally letting him catch up with the man. He pressed his advantage, grappling with the man briefly until the bodyguard had backed him into a whole row of slot machines. Then, Mac grabbed the handcuffs he'd seized from the man's belt, and with a little smirk (he couldn't really help it), clicked one side closed around the man's right wrist, then another closed around the slot machine, quickly jamming the lock with the toothpick from his martini.
Then, he raced off to help Jack.
'Brother!'
Jack, with two of the guards advancing on him and backed into a corner, tossed the black box at his partner, who caught it with his lightning-quick reflexes and incredible hand-eye coordination, and turned tail agilely and ran off. Jack, meanwhile, as soon as he'd thrown it, trusting Mac to catch it, socked one of the bodyguards in the jaw, hard, then kneed him in the stomach, even harder. The man crumpled, and Jack took a leaf out of his boy's book and used what he had, tossing the unconscious man at his co-worker, then used a leaf out of his book and head-butted the man, who also crumpled like a sack of potatoes.
'Woo, boy! Who's the man?'
Even though he was running like the hounds of Hell were on his heels, Mac shook his head and rolled his eyes with fond exasperation.
Eventually, the two remaining bodyguards (one sporting a nasty cut on his head from where he'd hit the deck after Mac tripped him with that chair) cornered Mac and Jack in a deserted service corridor, their weapons finally drawn.
(They had orders not to shoot in front of the casino and hotel patrons…but there was no-one here.)
Both men gave very dark grins, each holding their guns aimed centre mass at one of the partners.
Mac and Jack exchanged a glance, then slowly raised their hands.
The older and presumably more senior of the bodyguards spoke, voice terse.
'Give me the device.'
Jack gestured to his partner with his head.
'Well, you heard the man, brother, give him the thingamajig.'
'You've got it!'
Jack's brow furrowed in exaggerated confusion.
'Nah, you've got it, I tossed it to you back over by the roulette wheels…'
'Yeah, but I gave it to you when we passed the laundry room!'
'You did? I must have dropped it, it's probably lost in those towels somewhere…' Jack turned back to the very irate and impatient bodyguards. 'Sorry, gents, you're gonna have to go laundry-basket diving…'
The younger bodyguard's hand tightened on the trigger, and the older one held out a hand to stay him, levelling a stare at Mac and Jack.
'Quit stalling.' He gestured with his head imperiously at his younger colleague, who passed him his gun, then started frisking Mac, and then Jack. He pulled out the black thing with several lights on it that Mac and Jack had been tossing back and forth, held it up and swore.
It was an extremely fancy, adjustable, digital mini measuring cup from the bar.
FIFTEEN MINUTES EARLIER
Bozer, having ditched the tray of glasses he'd been carrying (no-one ever bothered someone who looked like they were walking somewhere with a purpose, especially not a waiter labouring under a load of glasses), burst out into the alleyway behind the casino's service area, and immediately, the device in his pocket, which Mac had slipped in there when he'd brushed by him when he'd jumped over the bar (lifting Bozer's fancy measuring glass as he did so), began to made a whirring-beeping noise that Mac and Riley had assured him meant it was transmitting.
BACK TO THE PRESENT
(AND MAC AND JACK'S LITTLE PREDICAMENT)
(YES, IT'S A LITTLE ONE)
(THIS IS THE THIRD TIME THEY'VE BEEN HELD AT GUNPOINT THIS MONTH)
Both bodyguards stared at the measuring cup for a long moment, before turning to Mac and Jack, unrestrained fury now in their eyes. The older guard handed the younger back his weapon…just as an FBI SWAT team burst in.
Mac and Jack let out that breath that they'd been holding, and Jack reached out and clapped the younger man on the back as the FBI agents restrained the two bodyguards.
'George Clooney ain't got nothing on you, man.'
Mac shook his head, and clapped Jack's back in return.
'Didn't I see you tackle one of those guys just like Kevin Perkins?'
Jack preened and smirked.
'Worthy of a place on the highlights' reel, eh, brother?'
The smirk on Mac's face grew teasing.
'Well, your technique could have used a little more improvement, you'd get more force if you changed your mechanical femoral-tibial angle by about five degrees…' Jack shoved him lightly as they walked out of the corridor, followed by the FBI agents and their new prisoners. Mac put up his hands innocently. 'Just pointing out the facts.'
PHOENIX JET
SOMEWHERE OVER THE MOJAVE DESERT
ON-ROUTE TO LA
'Seriously, you were incredible. Amazing. Like really, really amazing. Not speaking ill of the dead, but…' Bozer held up his hands, something very genuine and admiring and still stunned in his eyes. 'You really gave Amy Winehouse a run for her money.' She was a little too dark-skinned for it to be obvious, but both Mac and Jack swore Riley was blushing. She swatted at Bozer's arm lightly, looking ever-so-slightly bashful. Bozer's expression then shifted, and he pointed at her. 'But you've been holding out on us, Miss Davis! Seriously! How come you've never told us you can sing?'
Riley gave a deliberately-nonchalant shrug that didn't fool any of them (and they knew she knew that it didn't, that it wouldn't), but gave a very Riley little grin.
'Hey, a woman's entitled to her secrets…but play your cards right, and I might take some requests.'
Bozer rubbed his hands together and leaned over to the hacker and stage-whispered.
'Well, I was just about to ask you if you had any requests for dinner…'
Jack and Mac just exchanged a glance and affectionate, amused head-shakes.
MACGYVER'S RESIDENCE
LA
As Bozer, assisted by Leanna, put together the shrimp po'boys that Riley had requested for dinner and got the first five layers of his really fancy chocolate cake going in the kitchen, Mac fired up the fire-pit and Riley picked up her mom, Jack walked back in from the deck to fetch the beers to put in Mac's self-opening, walking Esky.
(He was really hoping that he wouldn't catch the lovebirds canoodling in the kitchen.)
(There were some things you didn't want to catch your surrogate children doing.)
(Bozer was better than Mac, and far better than Riley, but still…)
(And besides, their dinner was being prepared in the kitchen. Some things, he didn't want this food to witness. Eww.)
The door opened, and in stepped Matty. Jack did a double-take.
'You're early, Matty.'
His boss put her hands on her hips.
'Not happy to see me, Jack?' Jack, wisely, just put up his hands, and Matty just smirked, before her expression grew more wry. 'And the paperwork didn't take as long as usual; this was the first Phoenix mission to turn a profit, thanks to Baby Einstein.'
She gestured to Mac, who'd just walked in, a little smudge of grease on his chin.
Jack pointed at the blonde.
'Don't think I've forgotten, brother, we're gonna go all Rain Man next time we get a vacation!'
Later that evening, Mac, Jack, Bozer, Riley, Leanna, Diane and Matty sat around the fire-pit, playing charades.
(It was Mac, Jack and Matty versus Bozer, Leanna and Riley, with Diane acting as the 'impartial' judge.)
Mac was currently miming something that neither Jack nor Matty (nor anyone else, for that matter) had any idea was.
(He seemed to be miming something falling from a height, then hitting the ground? Possibly? It might also have been something bouncing off the ground, or an elevator or God knows what, knowing Mac.)
'Elevator?'
'Basketball?'
Bozer tapped Leanna and Riley on the shoulder, and Riley nudged her mom, who raised an eyebrow, then smiled and added another four minutes to the clock.
(Mac, Jack and Matty were losing, sixteen to four. And they all knew – except Leanna – from previous experience that charades was one of the very, very few things that Mac was terrible at.)
Bozer, Leanna and Riley then headed into the house, towards the kitchen, to dish up Bozer's eight-layer chocolate cake, which the alarm on his phone had told him should be ready now.
They came out five minutes later, holding plates with very tall slices of chocolate cake on them, to find Mac and Jack bickering, as Matty and Diane just exchanged a very knowing, fondly exasperated look.
'How in the hell was that a globe, brother?'
'The oldest surviving terrestrial globe is called the Erdapfel, literally earth apple in German. I was miming the famous apple-falling-to-Earth incident that led to Newton's development of his theory of gravitation! Earth apple! It's obvious!'
Everyone else stared incredulously at him, and Jack opened his mouth to speak, but before the Mac-n-Jack-show started up again (it was really amusing, but they all had their limits), Bozer spoke, holding up the three plates of cake in his hands.
'Seriously amazing eight-layered chocolate, anyone?'
That got many noises of approval, and a hell, yeah from Jack.
After he, Riley and Leanna finished passing out the plates of cake, Bozer sat down next to his BFF, who took a bite of the cake, closed his eyes in bliss and in memory for a moment, then opened them and smiled at Bozer, soft and affectionate.
'Thanks, Boze.'
Bozer nudged him gently with his elbow.
'Anytime, bro. Anytime.'
AN: Did you guys enjoy the team's romp in Vegas? How many of you were right about Mac's (not so) secret talent(s), I wonder? Or Riley's? Or who Jack was texting? I hope you liked the generally lighter tone of this ep!
I really wanted to include a Mac and Bozer moment in this episode, as well as plenty of what I've apparently now dubbed the Mac-n-Jack-show, after the last episode and its notable lack of the partners being, well, partners! I also felt that the conversation that Mac and Jack have at the start of the ep is pretty key – the revelations about his dad are definitely having a lot of impact on Mac, and how he's going to go about his life and any decisions he'll make in the future, and I really wanted to show that. Also, I really like Jack/Diane and I wanted to develop that further…yes, I have a shipper heart, and hey, it's my fanfic, I'll do what I want! :P (And I'm not restricted by anything like the cost or practicalities of having actors guest star…so I can have 'guest star' characters appear whenever I want, as much was I want!)
Riley can sing because Tristin Mays can (she's a triple threat who can act, sing and dance, apparently – which makes her almost as awesome as Riley :P ); that's where my headcanon started. Other headcanons spontaneously invented while writing this are why Mac likes martinis, coconuts being his favourite nut, and him learning magic tricks at 14 (we know from the show that he has some knowledge about sleight of hand and is a really good pickpocket, so…).
Here's the 'press release' for the next episode:
3.03, Sticky Rice to Glue. The team heads to Singapore to stop a threat to the Korean Peninsula peace talks. How will Mac cope in a country that bans chewing gum? Meanwhile, Jack and Bozer try to work out why Mac has suddenly become a not-terrible patient.
Yes, I've gone for 'inspired by real events' (I started the ep before the talks were cancelled…). As for the question – see the episode title! And ooh…why might Mac suddenly be listening to a doctor? :P
I've had a very tough couple of weeks (seriously, I know Mac's incredibly brilliant, but speaking as someone who does science every day – even if I don't have Mac's talents – he's also very, very lucky that his stuff always works!), and the next few aren't going to be any easier, so I think it'll take at least two weeks for Sticky Rice to Glue to be done. Hopefully, though, fingers crossed, in about a month or so, I'll have a little bit more time to write, so…