MACGYVER'S RESIDENCE

LA

Mac screwed the last light bulb in place, then climbed off his perch on the back of his couch. He viewed his creation for a beat, nodded in satisfaction, and then walked out onto the deck and pulled out his phone. He set it to 'record', then held it up and pulled the rope that dropped the brick that launched the catapult to start his ravioli-making spaghetti machine.

Yeah, I know. I know what you're thinking. Ravioli-making spaghetti machine, has he lost it?

That is completely dependent on whether I had it in the first place, which is debatable.

Anyway, thing is, I've been stuck at home on medical leave for the last week and a half. Jack, Bozer and Riley are in San Diego on a surveillance mission. Jill kicked me out of the lab for modifying her mass spec without asking for permission, and it's Beth's first day off in a fortnight and she's running errands and enjoying not having to deal with terrible patients. Like yours truly.

I'm bored. Really, really bored.

I've exhausted my queue of YouTube videos. None of my favourite channels have updated this week.

I've read a tenth of my library for the fourteenth time.

I've read the latest issues of New Scientist, Nature, Science, The Economist and Time Magazine.

I've fixed six toasters that were, according to the owner of my favourite appliances shop, toast. Now I'm out of broken toasters.

Ergo…ravioli-making spaghetti machine.

With a grin (his ravioli-making spaghetti machine was a resounding success), Mac uploaded the video of his creation to the chain of texts he exchanged with Valerie, along with a request for pictures of the latest car restoration project she was working on with her dad.

Then, he opened another chain of text messages and uploaded the video to that, too.

Beth appreciated fine engineering; she'd like this.

And she'd be impressed.

And there was nothing wrong with impressing a lovely lady, as his grandfather said.

Text sent, he walked into his kitchen and grabbed a bowl and a fork.

Precisely four minutes later (he was counting…and probably not just because he was bored, admittedly), his phone chimed with a reply from Beth.

That, Angus MacGyver, is amazing!

And you must be so, so bored.

Are the ravioli any good? Somehow, I feel that Bozer would consider this wonderful machine of yours sacrilege, so for its sake and your sake, I hope they are!

Mac chuckled and started typing out a reply one-handed, since he was holding a large slotted spoon in the other.

Well, I'll let you know in a couple of minutes. They're just finishing cooking right now.

He fished out the ravioli as his phone chimed with her instant reply.

Mac, are you so bored that you built a ravioli-making spaghetti machine to make yourself lunch?!

On one hand, I should not be surprised, on the other hand…well, it does seem rather excessively inefficient.

He grinned sheepishly (not that she could see, but Beth was right) over his bowl of ravioli (which were good, but nowhere near as good as his best friend's – he'd definitely have to disassemble the whole thing before Bozer got home, or face his wrath for more than the fact that it took up more than half the living room), then started formulating a reply. However, he got another text from Beth before he finished it.

It was a link. He clicked on it, and found a paper published two days ago in ACS Central Science, authored by Michael Taylor (Beth's father, who ran his own biomedical engineering firm) and several academics and PhD students from Purdue. He skimmed the abstract, brows rising a little in interest, and kept reading, absent-mindedly eating his ravioli as he read.

Twenty minutes later, in the midst of going down a research rabbit hole, ravioli all finished, he remembered to shoot off a quick reply to her.

(He had a tendency to forget things like that. He was quite sure he'd gotten that from his dad, and was very determined to break that bad habit.)

(It wasn't going very well…but he was trying.)

Thanks, Beth.

The next morning, still home alone, Mac was woken at precisely 6 am by his phone ringing.

Rubbing his eyes, he grabbed his phone and answered after a glance at the caller ID.

When Matty the Hun called, you answered, immediately. No matter what.

'Sorry to wake you, Mac, but we need you to report to the Phoenix ASAP.' He was supposed to be on medical leave from active duty for another four days; his physical was scheduled for three days' time. 'Beth will meet you in the infirmary for your physical.' She paused. 'We need you back on active duty.'

With that, she hung up.

Matty never wasted words.

Mac sat up properly, now fully awake.

There was only one reason for Matty to pull him back to work early. She took the welfare of her agents as seriously as she could, considering her job.

And that reason was the man Matty and his father had spent hours upon hours over the last week and a half interrogating.

Murdoc.

PHOENIX FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS

SOMEWHERE IN LA

Sitting on an infirmary bed, Mac buttoned up his shirt, as Beth filled in the last of her report on her tablet. She looked up as he finished doing up the last button, and spoke.

'You pass for light active duty. Just.'

She did not sound or look happy. Not at all. There was very disapproving doctor look on her face, as if she was going to say something about this being highly inadvisable, in her professional opinion.

(Mac was sure that that was also her personal opinion, not that she'd voice that at work, even if she wasn't all that good at hiding it.)

He didn't blame her.

According to the very limited mission briefing she'd been given (which she'd let him have a peek of, since it was his mission and so light on details), this was a light active duty mission (mostly surveillance) on US soil.

Which he did pass medical clearance for. If only just.

Still, Beth was well aware, like every other Phoenix employee, that missions never went to plan. Light active duty rarely stayed light.

Mac raised a shoulder in a half-shrug, giving a wry and hopefully reassuring smile.

'Bad guys don't wait for reasonable recovery times; it's part of the job.' She nodded, clearly knowing that, but also obviously suppressing a sigh, and he continued, tapping the side of his head, smile growing more wry, bringing in some more levity to the conversation. 'And I'll do my best to let this do the heavy lifting, I promise.'

That made her smile, before she turned away and bent over to grab a couple of items from under one of the infirmary nightstands.

Beth handed him something that looked like a cross between a bullet-proof vest and a corset, thin, flexible and discreet, but made up of protective plates.

'It'll provide some protection for your ribs and your kidneys.' They were still healing from Murdoc's torture. She narrowed her eyes at him, putting her hands on her hips. 'Wear it.' She left the or else unsaid, and Mac nodded obediently. She passed him the small bag she was holding in her left hand. 'And that's additional NSAIDs, in both oral and topical form, as well as extra bandages for binding your ribs if necessary.' The medical kits were well-stocked, of course, but Beth was firmly of the opinion that a little extra never hurt. The Phoenix's infirmary did have a near-limitless budget, after all. 'Jack, Riley, Bozer and Matty, as well as Oversight, have all been informed of your activity restrictions. If Oversight gives you any problems, tell me, and I'll talk to them.'

That was said with fierce, protective determination.

It was also really rather ironic, since Beth had no idea who his dad actually was, despite meeting him at his Christmas party. As far as she knew, James MacGyver was a scientist who worked for DARPA, and as such, couldn't talk much about his work, as it was highly compartmentalized.

(As one of the Phoenix's medical team, Beth's authority actually did trump Oversight's in this case. Besides, Mac was pretty sure that when it came to her patients' welfare, she wouldn't listen to authority if she was convinced they were acting against that cause anyway.)

(Unbidden, his imagination conjured an image of his father – serious, authoritative, arrogant and a man used to being superior in any room – being scolded by this small, fierce woman and threatened with Dora the Explorer Band-Aids, prostate exams and revocation of infirmary paperclip privileges.)

(The image was really amusing, and a little terrifying…and oddly fascinating and alluring and hot.)

(He was not admitting that last bit. Ever. Except maybe to her. In private. One day. Maybe. If the occasion arose.)

Oh, get your head out of not-suitable-for-work hypotheticals and back into the game, MacGyver.

He tucked the bag under his arm and smiled at her.

'Thanks.'

She smiled back, a little wanly, but a smile nonetheless.

'Take care.'

'I always do.'

I'm not always careful.

But I do take care.

I guess sometimes, it might not look like it, if you're watching from a distance, but I always, always, want to come home to the people I love.

A few minutes later, Mac opened the door of the war room.

The glass was frosted already.

He swallowed.

That only supported his hypothesis.

Inside, Jack, Bozer and Riley were sitting in the armchairs, Bozer perched on the arm of Riley's. Matty stood at the front of the room as usual.

Unusually, Oversight (and make no mistake, he was definitely Oversight right now) was standing on the other side of the big screen, hands clasped between his back and looking deadly serious.

To borrow an iconic line from Jack's second-favourite movie franchise…I have a bad feeling about this.

'…how a girl from Down Under winds up working for the CIA? Isn't it…odd?' Murdoc smirked. 'Especially when her name isn't really Samantha Cage.'

Mac, Jack, Bozer and Riley all stared at the screen as the video of Murdoc being interrogated by James finished playing.

Then, once the initial shock had faded somewhat, they all turned to glance at one another in a highly synchronized manner that'd have been amusing in another situation.

There were three questions in their eyes.

Did they really know the woman they called Cage?

Could they trust her?

Had they been betrayed again?

They all turned as one to Matty, who gave a small shake of her head. She had no answers for them; in fact, had the same questions running through her mind.

Since that revelation, she and James had worked hard to try and verify Murdoc's claims and everything they knew about Cage, by interrogating the assassin further, conducting research using their very high security clearances and discreetly making enquiries to very trusted contacts.

They'd gotten nowhere.

All intel suggested that Samantha Cage was indeed Samantha Cage, former SASR 4 Squadron interrogation expert, later recruited by the CIA.

Though, they noted, details were a little sparse on the ground.

Matty turned and tapped the screen, bringing up a scrap of paper with a seemingly random series of fifteen letters and numbers written on it.

'That was the only thing we could get out of him. Murdoc says it proves his claim.'

And it'd taken ten days.

It'd been an hour and a half ago that they'd gotten this sequence, whatever it meant.

(If it meant anything at all.)

Without a word, James MacGyver reached into his pocket, pulling out a pair of permanent markers. He tossed one to his son, and in silence, father and son began scribbling on opposite sides of the war room's glass walls.

Meanwhile, Riley pulled out her rig and started typing, while Bozer got up to take a closer look at the alphanumeric sequence with Matty, and Jack started pacing.

'…It's not a Caeser-type cipher…'

'…Not Enigma-based either.'

'Could it be a phone-ROTX hybrid?'

'I'll take A-L, you do M-Z.'

Mac and James both turned back to the writing-covered walls and returned to scribbling.

'It's a bank account.'

Riley gestured to her laptop, where an algorithm that she'd put together had determined that it was 99% likely that the string of letters and numbers was a bank account number. Specifically, a Swiss bank account number from a particularly secure, secretive and no-questions-asked Swiss bank.

Everyone clustered around her armchair. Jack grinned proudly at the hacker, while Matty smiled and Bozer reached out and offered her a fist-bump. Mac, his brain running a million miles per minute, hands occupied with his marker and a paperclip, managed a smile and a nod and even James looked slightly impressed (approval and satisfaction had to be read as 'impressed' with him).

Then, Bozer cracked his knuckles and gestured to himself.

'Stand back, it's the B-O-Z-E-R's time to shine!'

In a gesture of immense trust and friendship, after giving him a very, very firm and almost-as-terrifying-as-Matty-the-Hun look, Riley actually handed over her rig to him.

Bozer immediately started following the money trail.

SMALL-TOWN CONNECTICUT

(YES, REALLY)

(NOT EVERY MISSION IS SOMEWHERE INTERESTING)

(THE SPY LIFE IS REALLY NOT THAT GLAMOROUS)

Mac and Jack walked up to the blue craftsman. The house was strongly linked to the sole name that Bozer had managed to find by following the money trail. Riley's digging had so far only worked out that the name was an alias.

(She and Bozer were still working on it in the van.)

All their surveillance and research suggested that there was nothing of interest going on in this house, which wasn't unexpected.

The money trail was seven years old, after all.

Still, they had to check it out.

Mac and Jack exchanged a glance, then started up the path and rang the doorbell.

The door was answered by a tired, but cheerful-looking man a few years older than Mac, with a boy of about four or five clinging to his jeans leg. A woman sporting a messy bun and a slightly-stained T-shirt, cradling a baby in her free arm, was visible down the hall, and called out to her husband.

'Daniel, who is it?'

'Uh…'

Mac held out his hand with his most charming smile.

'I'm Scott, this is my colleague Paul, we're real estate agents. We have several clients who are interested in this area and we're wondering if you'd be interested in selling…'

Daniel shook his head with a smile, as his wife walked over, and he put his arm around her.

'No, Ellie and I bought this place almost seven years ago, to be our forever home. We got a great deal, this older guy was really keen to sell fast and move to Florida…'

'John Haworth.'

Riley pressed a key on her laptop, bringing up a photo of a man who had to be nearly seventy, with wispy white hair that was almost gone on top.

He was also wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt and appeared to be drinking some kind of cocktail on a beach.

Bozer shrugged in response to Mac and Jack's raised eyebrows.

'He's retired.'

Riley tapped a couple more keys, bringing up a rap sheet and several warrants, including an Interpol one.

'But before that, he dabbled in arms dealing, forgeries and money laundering for terrorist organizations.'

Jack let out a low whistle as he skimmed Haworth's very long list of crimes.

'Sounds like the kind of guy who'd shell out the cash to hire our least-favourite assassin.'

Mac pulled a paperclip out of his pocket and started unwinding it.

'Where is he, Riley?'

Her fingernails clacked on the keyboard, then a map of Florida appeared with a red star marking a coastal area in the southwestern part of the state.

'Pelican Bay, Florida.'

Jack grinned mischievously and clapped his partner on the shoulder.

'Better hope Beth packed us sunscreen.'

Mac rolled his eyes, and dropped the now-Florida-shaped paperclip beside Riley's laptop.

Let's just say…the first time Jack and I were sent on mission to Florida – Miami, specifically – I had to come up with some explanation as to how I wound up looking like a lobster after attending a conference in Maine.

Sometimes, I really wonder how I managed to keep my actual job description a secret from Boze for so long.

PHOENIX JET

ON-ROUTE TO PELICAN BAY, FLORIDA

Riley typed away on her laptop. Jack tapped an annoying rhythm that sounded vaguely like something by Guns N' Roses on the arm of his seat. Mac had a small pile of re-shaped paperclips next to him.

Bozer stopped trying to pretend to do something on his phone, sighed and spoke.

'Alright, we gonna talk about the elephant in the cabin or not?'

Riley's fingernails abruptly stopped clacking on her keyboard. Jack stopped tapping. Mac tossed down a question-mark-shaped paperclip with a sigh.

It was Riley who broke the silence.

'She's saved all of our lives and watched our backs…'

Her voice was calm and quite rational.

Jack pursed his lips.

'She was family.'

He sounded a little bitter, a little hurt, unsurprisingly.

Jack wore his heart on his sleeve. You could become Jack's family real quick, even in the space of a single gunfight.

And despite his and Cage's rocky start, he'd definitely considered her family first of all of them.

(He and Mac had gotten the chance to know her better first, after all. And despite the fact that Mac had been much nicer to Cage at first, that was mostly just Mac being Mac, all wholesome nice guy…with a known weakness for beautiful, intelligent, badass women. His walls were a bit higher and a bit tougher than Jack's, for good reason.)

(Jack had had less reason to be a little bit – just a little bit - wary of her.)

(So of course it'd been him to first invite her to one of their family get-togethers.)

'Hate to be the one to say it, but so was Thornton.'

Bozer really didn't look happy to say that, but gave a half-shrug, like he felt like he had no choice.

Jack nodded, pointing at Bozer in agreement.

'You gotta admit, she was real…cagey. Kept a lot of secrets, didn't much like sharing.'

'Everyone's entitled to their secrets; we've all kept ours.'

Riley spoke matter-of-factly, mostly, but also a touch defensively. Both for Cage, and for herself, Bozer thought.

(After all, even after almost dying alongside Mac and Jack more than twenty times and playing rubber-duck-mini-golf with Bozer, giving him CGI lessons and grabbing burgers with him a couple of times after meetings with her parole officer, she'd kept her cards so close to her chest that when The Collective came after her mom, it'd been a near miss from disaster that'd almost ruined the family she'd found.)

Mac sighed, running a hand through his hair, staring at the question-mark shaped paperclip.

His gut told him that even if Cage had lied to them, they had known the real her (or at least as much of the real her as someone like Cage – master interrogator and spy at heart - was willing to show), and they could trust her, when it came down to it. She had their backs.

The problem was, he wasn't sure if he could or should trust his gut.

He was well aware of his weakness for attractive women.

And…well, while he wasn't very talented at dating or correctly interpreting social cues, interactions and nuances, he was quite sure that there'd been something between them. An attraction, a level of connection, albeit from time-to-time a touch unsteady or inconstant, at least from his side (Cage was a lot harder to read than a normal woman), before she'd returned to Australia and, honestly, mostly cut herself out of their lives, occasional Skype calls and emails and that Christmas card aside.

Bias was a major concern.

Then again, his gut had ultimately been right about Nikki (even if he was well aware of how foolish he'd been during the Chrysalis saga), and about Frankie still being alive, and even about the fact that Allie really had liked him and not just used him, like his brain had loudly insisted (his brain had won that argument)...

He sighed again in frustration.

He really didn't know what to think.

Still, he spoke, falling back on logic and rationality.

'If Murdoc is lying, then this is all moot.'

He couldn't quite keep the hope that that was the case out of his voice.

Jack, Bozer and Riley all nodded in agreement, sharing that hope, then Jack pointed at the blonde.

'Right up his alley, setting the cat amongst the pigeons, sending us on some wild goose chase to keep us distracted from his real endgame…'

Bozer picked up the thread.

'…or sowing the seeds of distrust and conflict and drama as set-up for his real endgame…'

Riley quirked an eyebrow at Bozer, but shrugged and added her two cents.

'…Or maybe this is a trap and part of his real endgame.'

Mac gave a bitter snort of laughter.

'You never know with Murdoc.'

PELICAN BAY

FLORIDA

'...You gonna be alright, son?'

As he and Mac strode through the local park on their way towards the house that then backed onto Haworth's house, Jack gestured subtly (or so he thought) to his partner's torso.

Mac nodded, rolling his eyes with fond exasperation.

'I'll be fine, Jack.' He spread his arms. 'Beth cleared me.'

'Yeah, just.'

Jack was protective of his partner. It was literally his job description.

So, of course, he wasn't exactly happy that Mac was coming back to active duty early, cutting short his recovery from being tortured at the hands of his arch-nemesis.

Still, Jack knew to pick his battles.

(Anyone who looked after Mac had to know that.)

There was no way that Mac would stay at the Phoenix, safe and sound and not compromising his recovery, while the rest of them pursued this lead.

Not with both Murdoc and Cage caught up in it.

(Jack didn't think that even Beth could keep him there. Not even if she were actually willing to use her feminine wiles, as well as her doctor-y logic and threats and authority.)

(Mac's priorities were either really good or really bad, depending on how you looked at it.)

So, instead, Jack would just make sure to keep an extra-special eye on the kid. Take extra care of him, 'cause he wasn't convinced that Mac would.

Hence, as the two of them started climbing the fence that led into Haworth's neighbour's yard, Jack hardly took his eyes off his partner's side.

As he climbed, Mac rolled his eyes again, a little more exasperated, but still fond.

Jack was a deadly, ex-Delta Force, ex-CIA covert operative. One of the best in the business.

He was also a mother hen.

HAWORTH'S HOUSE

PELICAN BAY

FLORIDA

'…honey, I'm telling you, this is the place!'

'It doesn't look like it!'

'It's an Airbnb! It's not meant to look like a hotel! That's the whole point!'

Bozer and Riley, both wearing stereotypical on-holiday-in-Florida clothing (he had on a Hawaiian shirt, she was wearing a floral sundress) and fake wedding rings, bickered loudly just outside Haworth's fancy HGTV-worthy beach house.

'…trust me, I know what I'm doing!' Bozer began searching the fence line. 'We just gotta find one of those little safes to get the keys; I got the code for it on my phone…'

Riley rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, decidedly not helping her 'husband'.

'You said you knew what you were doing just two months ago, when you and your best friend were building that huge light-up centrepiece for our wedding…and he wound up in the ER!'

'Where he met his now-girlfriend!' Bozer spread his arms wide. 'It's gonna be a great story for them to tell their kids one day!'

Riley opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a loud, authoritative male voice yelling at them.

'Oi! This isn't an Airbnb, get out of here!'

She rolled her eyes and shot Bozer an I-told-you-so look, while Bozer bristled and pulled a print-out from Airbnb out of his pocket, which depicted Haworth's house.

'Yeah it is!'

Mac and Jack, hidden in a tree several feet from the fence between Haworth and his neighbour's house, exchanged a glance as the blonde lowered his makeshift binoculars.

Haworth's security was all rushing towards the front gate, to deal with a pair of unruly honeymooners.

Both of them smiled as they made the jump out of the tree and into Haworth's yard.

Bozer and Riley (usually led by Bozer) were great at causing a dramatic and loud distraction. They'd used that skill to great effect on several missions.

Bickering honeymooners was usually their go-to.

(They did it so well, after all.)

'…You're gonna hear from my lawyer about this!'

Riley rolled her eyes as a security guard dragged her 'husband' off, allowing herself to be pulled away by another equally-burly man.

'You don't have a lawyer!'

'I will as soon as we get out of here, sweet-pea!'

'I've told you not to call me that!'

'Come on, brother, hurry up…'

Mac rolled his eyes as he picked the lock to Haworth's study. He was just as aware as Jack was that Bozer and Riley's distraction was over; he could hear the feed from Bozer's modified watch and Riley's modified necklace just as well through his earpiece.

Instead of deigning to reply, he simply clicked the last tumbler into place and opened the door, quirking an eyebrow at his partner.

'…uh, how many percent we got left to go on that doo-dad?'

Jack pulled his head back from where he'd poked it out the door to check for incoming. Mac, who was searching the study and photographing anything he thought might be of use, glanced at the computer, which was currently being hacked and its contents downloaded using a special USB made by some Phoenix techs with input from Riley.

'Uh…we're at 65%...'

'Well, you gotta find a way to speed that thingy up, brother.' Jack jabbed his thumb at the door. 'We're gonna get incoming soon enough.'

Mac glanced around the room, his thinking-face appearing, before being replaced a second later with his I-have-an-idea face.

Quickly, he pulled books and trinkets from a bookshelf, then started unscrewing the shelf with his Swiss Army knife.

'Jack, grab those crystal glasses.' He gave a little smirk. 'I can't speed up the download…but I can slow them down.'

TWELVE MINUTES LATER

'Oh no, not again…'

Jack groaned as Mac, one foot up on the balcony railing, carefully stowed the USB, his phone and Jack's phone into a small waterproof pouch the Phoenix had provided. The Texan looked down at the swimming pool below them.

Mac rolled his eyes and put his hands on the railing.

'We're lucky it's there.' He gestured behind them, to the barricaded door (which had a trap on either side – Haworth's security, from the noises they were making, were still dealing with the first trap). 'Or would you rather fight your way through that?'

With that, Mac leapt off the balcony and into the swimming pool.

Jack muttered under his breath.

'I swear, Boze makes him watch too many movies…'

Then, he too jumped off the balcony.

Mac and Jack, both sopping wet, had just reached the fence when two of Haworth's guards found them.

(Judging by the lack of crystal fragments or ink on them, they hadn't been caught up in Mac's trap.)

The four men watched each other in a stand-off for a moment, before Jack grinned and raised his fists.

'You go left, I'll go right, brother?'

And with that, he went for the guy on the right, going straight for a right hook to the jaw. Of course, the man dodged, which put him exactly where Jack wanted him to be. He kicked the man in the back of the knee, then kneed him hard in the solar plexus when he stumbled. Then, he went for the head-butt, knocking the guy out. He fell at Jack's feet like a sack of potatoes, and Jack immediately focused his attention on helping his partner out.

(He'd been aware of Mac and the other guy in the back of his mind as he focused on his own fight, had realized that Mac had, being Mac, used his brain over brawn, waiting for the guard to make the first move, then cleverly using the man's own momentum to fling him into the fence, producing an advantage for him to press.)

As Jack turned, Mac rammed his foot (with precise force and angle) into the side of the guard's knee, causing the man to stumble badly, allowing the blonde to cleanly knock him to the ground. He fell hard, winded and dazed, but managed to strike a glancing blow (Jack wasn't sure it was deliberate; the guy was pretty out of it) to the side of Mac's torso, right at the bottom of his ribs.

Jack cursed internally, but didn't waste any time jumping the fence, Mac right on his heels, then hot-footing it through the neighbour's backyard and the park.

Getting out of there with the intel was their number one priority.

For now, anyway.

Finally, Mac and Jack slowed to a walk as they reached the rendezvous point, confident that they'd lost any potential tails.

Jack gestured to his partner's torso.

'You okay, brother? I saw that guy get in a hit…' Mac rolled his eyes, looking remarkably like a teenager exasperated by his overbearing, over-protective and overly-worried parent. He tugged up his shirt (already half-untucked) to show Jack the protective vest Beth had given him. The older man looked relieved (a serious expression) for a beat, before grinning teasingly (a very much not-serious expression) and socking the younger lightly in the arm. 'I'm sorry, brother, never thought I'd say anything like this…but she's too good for you.'

As emphasis, he clapped Mac on the shoulder in commiseration. Mac chuckled, and grinned back at him.

'Eh, maybe she'll take pity on me.' His grin turned teasing, mischievous, a bit more like a smirk. 'There's got to be a reason why Diane puts up with you.'

Jack snorted, joining in that bicker and banter that kept them sane, despite the high pressure, violence and darkness of their jobs.

'I'll have you know I got plenty of charms, thank you very much!

'Well, those charms certainly don't include your singing abilities, your fashion sense, your cooking skills or your storytelling capabilities…'

PHOENIX JET

PRIVATE AIRSTRIP

NEAR PELICAN BAY

FLORIDA

Riley plugged the USB into her rig, and started typing immediately. After about a minute, she let out a low whistle.

'He might be retired, but Haworth hasn't let his cybersecurity slip.' She gestured to the screen. 'This is going to take me at least a few hours to decrypt and go through.'

Jack, who was leaning against the doorway into the cabin, arms crossed, gave a slow, almost-childish grin with more than a hint of a smirk in it.

'Well, we got some time to kill, you thinking what I'm thinking, brother?'

He gestured at Mac, who was leaning against the other side of the doorway, toying with a paperclip which was taking the shape of a shirt (assumedly a Hawaiian shirt, even with the lack of colour). The blonde quirked an eyebrow.

'Pick up a souvenir for Matty?'

Jack rubbed his hands together.

'Never hurts to stay on the boss's good side.'

A ROAD

(A DESERTED ROAD…HANDILY)

PELICAN BAY

FLORIDA

Jack, dressed as a local police officer, complete with an impressively huge moustache to disguise his face (thanks to Bozer), pulled over Haworth's vehicle, stepping over to the driver's window.

The chauffer/guard driving lowered the window with an artificially polite expression on his face.

'What's the matter, officer?'

Jack bent his knees, lowering his face to the same level as the driver's, taking care not to block the window.

'One of your taillights is out, sir.'

In the back seat, Haworth paid no attention to what seemed like a routine stop, continuing to read a local racing guide.

The guard's brow furrowed.

'It was fine when we left…'

Jack shrugged.

'Must've gone out on the road, sir.' He gestured to the back of the car. 'Take a look if you want.'

The guard glanced at his employer, who just waved a hand, engrossed in the odds for the afternoon's races.

The man got out and walked around to the back of the vehicle with Jack. He'd just bent down to take a look at the offending taillight when he gave a gasp of pain. He reached up to his neck and pulled out the makeshift dart (it was made of a syringe needle from the med kit, a twig and some cleverly-cut paper). He looked at Jack, eyes wide, and tried to stagger forward and attack the Phoenix agent, but keeled over, only half-conscious, before he could.

(Mac had spent an hour and a half while Bozer got Jack into costume and Jack came up with a backstory for Adrian Thompson, Florida Police, mixing and boiling extracts from tree leaves and bark and pills and creams from the medical kit using the jet's electric kettle, muttering to himself and drawing on scraps of paper what Jack recognized as pictures of molecules, but didn't understand beyond that.)

(Bozer had muttered something about his BFF resembling the love child of a Dramione – whatever that was - kid and Dr Frankenstein.)

(Mac had said that the yellow syrupy stuff he'd made was a very fast-acting, extremely potent sedative.)

(Jack hadn't quite realized it'd be that fast.)

He walked back around to the front of the vehicle as if nothing was wrong.

'…we'll try turning it on and off, see if that works…' He reached into the car as if to turn the taillights on and off, but instead lowered the window next to Haworth. 'Oh, sorry, sir…'

Haworth looked up suspiciously. He stared at Jack for a moment, before he made to reach for the seat in front of him, scrabbling for what Jack assumed was a secret compartment with a weapon in it.

But his guard had been down for too long.

Before Haworth could open the compartment, a dart struck him in the neck, and seconds later, he was slumped over in his seat.

Thirty seconds later, he was sound asleep.

Jack turned and peered into the trees.

'All good, brother!'

His partner, wearing a makeshift sniper's disguise (a straw hat covered in leaves, plus an old fish net wrapped around his shoulders, also covered in leaves) and holding a DIY blowgun (pretty much an old piece of thin PVC pipe), popped out from his hidey-hole at the foot of a tree, behind some bushes.

Mac shrugged off the disguise and discarded the blowgun, then jogged over to the unconscious, snoring guard, checking the man's pulse, before dragging him into the vehicle and securing his wrists with the handcuffs he found in the man's pocket. Meanwhile, Jack secured Haworth's wrists and climbed into the driver's seat.

He grinned as Mac hopped into the front passenger seat, and started the ignition.

'Matty's gonna like this so much more than a snow globe…'

PHOENIX JET

SOMEWHERE OVER ARIZONA

ON-ROUTE TO LA

'…Hey, Riley, you want some coffee?'

Bozer walked from the cabin area (where Mac and Jack were keeping an eye on Haworth and his guard, who were still down for the count) into what he personally thought of as Riley's mobile Bat-Cave (though, more accurately, she was probably Oracle while Mac and Jack were Batman and Robin…which maybe made him Alfred?), carrying a cup of coffee.

She'd been working for hours. He figured some caffeine wouldn't hurt at all.

Riley looked up from her rig, and raised a sceptical eyebrow at the coffee.

(Mac had used the kettle to make an extremely fast-acting, extremely potent sedative, after all.)

Bozer grinned reassuringly.

'I washed it out twice. Then disinfected it with the alcohol wipes from the med kit. Then washed it out five more times.'

Riley gave a snort, but took the cup of coffee gratefully.

'Probably overkill, Boze.'

He shrugged a little sheepishly.

'Better safe than sorry.'

She took a sip and smiled at him.

'Thanks.'

He smiled back.

'No probs.' Bozer gestured with his head to the screens in front of her. 'Anything I can help out with?'

Riley pursed her lips.

'I'm still decrypting most of it, but…'

She typed for a beat, pulling up some financial records on the other terminal, and Bozer's smile widened as he did some 'warm-up exercises', waggling his fingers vigorously.

Riley snorted again and rolled her eyes with fond exasperation, then turned back to her work, as Bozer settled down next to her and started typing.

PHOENIX FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS

SOMEWHERE IN LA

'…Eight and a half years ago, the CIA uncovered an operation smuggling weapons from the US to Australia, supplying several home-grown terror cells. The operation was run by Haworth, a US national, Mitchell Donner, Australian national, and Clarke Keys, New Zealand national.'

Riley, perched on the arm of one of the chairs in the war room, her laptop on her lap, explained to Mac, Jack and Bozer what she'd found in the records Haworth had kept, gesturing to the pictures of the three men on the screen. Haworth looked easily thirty years older than the other two.

Matty, who was standing by the screen, continued, tapping the big screen to bring up some documents stamped 'top secret'.

'The op to bring down the ring was a joint CIA-SASR 4 Squadron operation, codenamed Shearwater.' At the mention of Cage's former employer, Mac's hands, which had been fiddling with a paperclip, stilled. 'Unfortunately, one of the agents involved was a mole.' The image on the screen changed to a photo of a middle-aged man, his hairline beginning to recede, in a smart suit. 'David Parkes sold out his team to Haworth, Donner and Keys…'

Mac's fingers started re-shaping the paperclip again as he spoke.

'…who hired Murdoc to take out the team.'

Matty nodded, tapping the screen to bring up a list of eight names. First names only, with the surnames redacted, and no photos. Clearly, Riley hadn't been able to get hold of non-redacted versions of these documents, which meant that they had to be really, really, really classified and compartmentalized (possibly existing only in hard copy). One of the names was David; Mac assumed that referred to David Parkes.

'According to all official records, he succeeded. All eight agents are deceased. Parkes committed suicide when the team made him.' Matty paused, glancing up at the list of names for a moment. 'And according to official records, they didn't die in vain.'

Riley picked up the thread again.

'They managed to take down Haworth, Keys and Donner's operation before Murdoc…finished the job.'

There was silence for a moment, before Bozer spoke up, quieter than usual and hesitant.

'So…does this mean that Murdoc was just messing with us?' He gestured at the screen, at the list of names that none of them recognized. 'I mean, this doesn't have anything to do with Cage, right, since she's definitely alive...'

Mac tossed the paperclip (which had become a tangle) onto the coffee table, while Jack spoke, shaking his head.

'I dunno, Boze…Murdoc says her name ain't Cage…' Three of the names on the list were female. '…and SASR 4 Squadron-CIA joint op? Murdoc had a point; really is weird for the CIA to recruit an Aussie, joint op might go a long way to explaining it.' He glanced over at Mac. 'And wouldn't be the first time the CIA was involved in faking someone's death.' Jack's expression grew set, a little grim. 'Too much of a coincidence; it's giving me the heebie-jeebies.'

Mac nodded in agreement, already mutilating another paperclip.

'It's too improbable.' He glanced at Matty. 'We need to bring in Donner and Keys.'

They needed more information.

Their boss nodded in agreement, as Riley showed Mac her laptop screen; she was already searching, with no luck.

They appeared to have gone to ground even more than Haworth.

Matty straightened her back a little, and started striding out of the room.

'Leave it to me.'

Matty strode into the interrogation room where Haworth, still in his Hawaiian shirt, was seated and secured to the table.

She pulled the folder out from under her arm, tossed it onto the table, and then pulled out a photo of Keys and a photo of Donner, before looking expectantly at him, faux-pleasantness in her expression.

Haworth shrugged, looking confused.

She did admit, he was a good actor, a good liar. Good at this business.

But he wasn't better than her.

'I have no idea who these guys are, and no idea why you've brought me here, I'm just-'

Matty snorted derisively, then leaned forward, planting her hands on the table.

'Drop the fuddy-duddy retiree act, John.' She looked him up and down, still derisive. 'You might look the part, but we both know that appearances can be deceiving.' She leaned back, that fake pleasantry back on her face. 'Now, I just need one thing from you: how can I contact your former business partners?'

He was silent for a long, long time, staring her down. Matty stared right back, and then, slowly, let that side of her, the part of her who'd broken stronger, scarier men in their prime, show. Just a glimpse. Just in her eyes, some of the lines on her face.

He swallowed.

'I'm retired.'

Matty arched an eyebrow at him.

'And you expect me to believe that you took your ear off the ground, giving your many, many enemies a chance to take pot-shots at you?'

He swallowed again. She slowly peeled back that pleasant mask, letting him see what was underneath, again, then leaned forward once more.

'We can do this the easy way…or the hard way. Your choice.'

He swallowed again.

Impressively, he held his resolve for several minutes.

Then, he opened his mouth.

SANTA MONICA PIER

LA

Bozer, wearing a fifties-style diner uniform, grinned at the little boy as he handed him a stick of colourful cotton candy, returning to stirring the warm spinning sugar, the grin still on his face, seemingly scouting the surrounds for potential customers to entice.

'No sign of either of them here, guys.'

Riley, dressed in a stylish maxi-dress, an equally-fashionable leather jacket on, along with a wide-brimmed suede hat and boots, strummed on a guitar, singing covers of pop songs while apparently looking into the distance, occasionally glancing around to try and encourage passers-by to drop some change into her guitar case.

She strummed a few chords in a pre-arranged signal.

There was no sign of Donner or Keys near her either.

Jack licked his ice-cream as he strode down the boardwalk, looking every bit a tourist in his I heart LA T-shirt and big sunglasses, appearing to be gawking at just about everything around him.

When he finished his treat, he tossed the napkin in a nearby trash can, speaking just loud enough for his earpiece to pick it up.

'Not a hide or hair of 'em.'

Mac, wearing slightly baggy jeans and a T-shirt with an abstract Rubik's cube on it, kept juggling several colourful balls as he grinned at a pair of pre-teen boys who put a couple of dollars into the fedora at his feet.

He threw one around his back, without dropping any of the other four, as he kept pretending to look idly around, trying to get more people to stop and watch his show.

Then, in the corner of his eye, he caught a glance of a man he swore was Donner. He forced himself to not look his way, and was rewarded by Donner walking further into his field of view, accompanied by a dark-haired man who matched Keys' height and build, who had his back to Mac.

Then, somehow, Donner looked directly at him. Looking away immediately would have broken his cover, so Mac just grinned and swapped hands without dropping a ball, playing the part of a juggler showing off a trick.

It didn't work. Donner tugged the sleeve of the man next to him (who Mac confirmed as Keys when he turned slightly), and the two of them ran, heading for the less-enclosed streets, rather than further down the pier.

He shoved two of the juggling balls into his pockets, letting the rest of them fall to the ground, and took off after them,

'I've got them heading east from my position, I've been made!'

Jack had been debating buying a corn dog (it suited his cover…plus he hadn't had one in ages, since everyone had taken the whole Jack's-cholesterol-levels-are-edging-towards-high thing really seriously) when he heard his partner call out over his earpiece.

Immediately, he took off running west to intercept, corn dog and cholesterol levels forgotten.

'Coming, brother, we'll try and cut them off!'

As he ran, Mac grabbed a bunch of balloons from next to some vendor's stall, ignoring the man's shouts of protests (he'd already used the juggling balls, to not much effect, unfortunately). Using his Swiss Army knife, he cut the balloons off the weights, letting them drift away. He lifted up the weights by the remaining strings, and started swinging them over his head.

When he'd built up enough momentum, he aimed carefully and tossed the makeshift bola at Keys' and Donner's legs, successfully making them stumble and slowing them down.

As he bore down on them from behind, Jack skidded into view in front of them, his gun in hand and pointed at Donner.

Keys and Donner finished untangling themselves from Mac's bola, and quickly sprinted down an alleyway, the partners in hot pursuit.

Mac seized a full trash bag and swung it at Keys' face, causing the man to stumble backwards and allowing the blonde to stick a leg out and trip him, causing him to stumble further, to his knees. Mac pressed his advantage, wrapping an arm firmly around Keys' neck to cut off his air supply and knock him out.

Meanwhile, Jack grappled with Donner, his gun having been kicked out of his wrist and under a dumpster by the smuggler. He head-butted the man, then, as he recovered from being dazed, Jack shouted yippee-kay-yay and charged towards the brick wall, Donner in front of him. The arms dealer hit the wall with a satisfying, meaty thwack.

Keys struggled hard, and eventually, using his superior weight and leverage from his position, managed to dislodge Mac's arm, flinging the blonde into the brick wall. It wasn't a hard hit, but Keys was much faster than his rather-substantial weight suggested, and pressed his advantage, delivering a hard punch to Mac's ribs as he rebounded off the wall, trying to get his arm around Keys again.

Even though the protective vest, the punch, with almost three hundred pounds of very angry arms dealer behind it, really, really hurt his still-tender ribs, and Mac gave a grunt of pain.

Keys smirked darkly, having found a weakness, and Mac changed his strategy, keeping himself behind the taller, bigger man using his greater speed and agility, then, when the moment was right, grabbing him from behind.

At the same time, Jack and Donner were wrestling on the ground, Jack trying to prevent Donner from reaching below the dumpster for his weapon. He had Donner pinned to the ground, one arm under him, but the other was free, and Donner was managing to scoot along, closer to the dumpster and the gun, despite Jack's full weight resting on him.

Keys slammed Mac, who was pretty much on his back, into the dumpster, the metal ridge of the top striking his lower back, too close for comfort to his almost-recovered kidneys. He couldn't help but grunt in pain again, and Keys managed to loosen his grip by repeating the action.

Then, the huge man undid his jacket as he slammed Mac into the dumpster for the third time, before twisting free of the garment and taking off.

At the same time, Donner suddenly stopped going for the gun, startling Jack, and instead kneed him very hard in the backside, then concentrated on throwing him off.

He took off down the alleyway as Jack retrieved his gun and rolled to his feet.

He fired off two shots, but they were already too far away for them to be effectual; one missed entirely, the other grazed Donner's calf.

The Texan swore, before turning to his partner, who was leaning against the dumpster, wincing, and holding Keys' jacket.

'Son-'

'I'm fine.'

Mac took off down the alleyway after the pair without another word, and Jack sprinted after him.

(Mac was definitely not fine, but they had bigger fish to fry at the moment.)

They reached the main street, which was packed with masses of people, and looked from right to left and back again.

'Riley-'

The hacker's voice was frustrated when she responded.

'I've lost them.'

It was Mac's turn to curse, and he started searching Keys' jacket pockets, hoping against all hope to find some kind of clue, some kind of hint.

His hands closed around a USB.

PHOENIX VAN

ON-ROUTE TO PHOENIX FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS

SOMEWHERE IN LA

'We were set up.'

Mac stared at the USB as Jack drove them back to the Phoenix. Via the rear-view mirror, his three teammates exchanged a glance.

They didn't like it at all, but Mac was probably right.

Keys and Donner had made him so easily.

And why in the world would Keys bring a USB (heavily, heavily encrypted – Riley had taken an attempt at breaking it while the others updated Matty, but she was pretty sure it'd take her even longer than Haworth's to break) to what was supposedly a meet with Haworth?

And why would he leave it behind so readily, without any attempt to retrieve it, when he and Donner had made their retreat?

When he stopped at a red light, Jack glanced at his partner, who was lost in thought, down a rabbit hole, in a way that Jack knew spelled trouble.

'Murdoc?'

Mac just nodded, and spoke, extremely, extremely sardonically. Bitterly.

'Who else?'

TWENTY TWO HOURS LATER

PHOENIX FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS

SOMEWHERE IN LA

Mac (who looked like he hadn't slept a wink and immediately grabbed a paperclip from the bowl), Jack (who looked like he'd just gone several rounds with a punching bag) and Bozer (nursing a large cup of coffee) all filed into the war room, to find Matty and Riley standing on either side of the screen, their expressions grim.

The taller woman tapped the screen.

'This is what we found on that USB.'

The big screen filled with photos of a blonde, blue-eyed girl. There were thirteen of what were clearly school photos, in which the girl ranged in age from about five to eighteen. There were photos of a high school soccer team, the blonde girl in the middle, wearing a captain's armband, and even a photo of her from a local newspaper that the caption indicated belonged with a profile of the local high school's regionals-winning team's captain.

The girl looked familiar. Very, very familiar. Far younger than the woman they knew, but nonetheless her.

But the name under each and every one of the photos was one they'd never heard before.

Wordlessly, Jack, Mac and Bozer all turned to Riley, then to Matty, who just nodded, then back to Riley again. It was the hacker who spoke.

'I've quadruple-checked.' She gestured at the photos. 'They're legit.' She swallowed. 'Her name isn't Samantha Cage. It's Tasha Sommers.'

There was silence for a long moment, then Mac tossed another question-mark shaped paperclip onto the table.

'Why?'

He wasn't even sure what he was asking. Why did she change her name? Why did she hide it from them, her family? Why did Murdoc even reveal this to them in the first place?

Matty caught his eye, her eyes sympathetic, even comforting.

'You can ask her yourself.' She reached out and tapped the screen, bringing up an image taken from the Australian Border Force, gaze turning business-like again. It showed a bulky, tall, dark-haired man – Keys – and his smaller, lighter-haired companion – Donner. 'They passed through Immigration in Melbourne an hour and a half ago. I got in touch with an old Australian contact, who put me in touch with…let's just say, an Australian counterpart. You'll be working a joint mission with their best agent.'

She tapped the screen again, bringing up an image of the woman they knew as Samantha Cage.

Or had thought they knew.

AN: Strap yourselves in…it's going to be a bumpy ride! I hope you guys liked the way I've taken this storyline, and the responses that everyone had were in-character. I didn't want them to freak out entirely immediately – after all, I'd think they'd still trust Cage more than Murdoc, and they all know Murdoc's a serial liar, and I wanted them to be uncertain. Cage was family, and as I think the whole Nikki/Thornton/Chrysalis storyline, as well as the Riley-goes-rogue and Matty-knew-Mac's-dad-and-has-lied-to-him-the-whole-time storylines show, the team doesn't give up on family all that easily. They have doubts, they throw thoughts and theories out there, but without really irrevocable proof, they're not going to label them a traitor (Thornton was arguably a bit of an exception, but I think they tried to demonstrate later via comparison with Matty that she simply wasn't as close to them, wasn't really part of the family…). I also firmly maintain that Jack was the first to consider Cage part of the family, even if Mac was nicer to her and accepted her as part of the team first – I think Jack wears his heart on his sleeve and gets attached hard and fast, while Mac is 'nicer/sweeter' and has more of a bleeding heart, but also has more trust issues. So, I guess Mac will let you in a certain distance faster, but will keep some walls up for longer, while once you get through some of Jack's walls, you get through all of them (and he starts oversharing!), if that makes sense?

Cage's real name comes from the character that Isabel Lucas played on the iconic Australian soap opera Home and Away (Tasha) and the location in which it is set (Summer Bay).

In other news – I am officially a published author! A published scientific author, that is! A paper on which I am a very junior author was recently published. Maybe one day I'll be able to approach Mac (or Jill or Frankie) in number of publications!

There will be no episode tag for Detours for this ep, but here's the press release for the next episode, in which the team comes to my home town!

3.14, Team to Australia. With Cage's secret in the open, the team heads to Melbourne, Australia, reuniting with their former teammate, in pursuit of Murdoc's former employers…whom Cage has a history with. But can they trust her?