Disclaimer: I wrote this before I saw 3.04, Guts + Fuel + Hope. I planned it all out before Season 3 even started. All similarities are coincidental and have to do with the characters and show that I'm playing with!
Thoughts on 3.04, Guts + Fuel + Hope at the end of this chapter, with spoilers.
MACGYVER'S FAVOURITE DINER
(BOTH THE ELDER AND THE YOUNGER)
SOMEWHERE IN LA
Mac glanced at the cup of coffee sitting opposite him (black, no sugar, no milk), taking a sip of his own (black, two sugars).
If he didn't get here within the next ninety seconds, it'd be on the wrong side of tepid, taking into account ambient air temperate, air flow and effective surface area.
It'd been a while since they'd had any time to work on rebuilding their relationship.
They'd both been so busy.
He'd had that whole saga with Cage and Murdoc, and now helping Cassian settle into his new life with Diane.
His dad had some new obsession, a new target and some leads to follow.
(Which he refused to tell Mac anything about.)
('Need to know, Angus. Don't worry about it.')
Whatever it was, it'd been eating his father up.
(Mac got obsession. He'd most likely inherited his tendency for it from James.)
(Still, he was beginning to learn that dealing with the object of one's obsession solo was not only unwise and unnecessarily dangerous, it hurt the people you loved, the people who loved you, when you didn't let them in, when you didn't let them help.)
(And he hated hurting the people he loved. He might not always be aware that he was doing it, but once he was…well, apologies were in order, and his best effort to not do it again.)
(Even if those best efforts, shamefully, tended to fall short. He was working on it.)
(Somehow, he thought that not hurting the people who loved you wasn't quite as high on James MacGyver's priority list.)
The diner door swung open, and Mac forced himself to not look expectantly, excitedly, like a kid.
A few seconds later, James MacGyver sat down opposite his son, who looked up from where he was mutilating his empty sugar packets.
The waitress strode up to the two of them, and raised an eyebrow expectantly, her pencil on her notepad.
'Uh…Eggs Benedict, hash browns, please.'
'California Benedict, spinach instead of ham, side of muesli and yoghurt.' Mac raised an eyebrow at his father, who took a sip of his barely-tepid coffee as the waitress bustled away. 'Like Jack, I'm watching my cholesterol levels.'
There was a touch of wry humour on his face, in his voice, as he spoke, and that made Mac smile.
(Times like this, he was the father he remembered. The one he'd loved and idolized and wanted to be when he grew up.)
The younger MacGyver gave a slight, teasing smirk.
'Inevitable for the middle-aged American male.'
His father snorted.
'Yes, so it'll be you in twenty years, Angus.' He arched an eyebrow. 'Perhaps sooner, considering Wilt's cooking.'
Mac gave a chuckle and shrugged.
'Beth will give me a lecture about changing my diet the minute my cholesterol levels start rising beyond normal fluctuations; I'll have plenty of warning.'
James smiled in a way that seemed knowing as he looked at Mac over his coffee cup. The smile reminded Mac a little of Jack and a little of Matty, but he wasn't sure if he could or should welcome this line of conversation from his dad yet, so he pulled out the New Scientist magazine he'd been reading while he'd waited.
(He'd started ripping up sugar packets when he'd finished it and grown bored.)
'I've got a couple of ideas I wanted to run past you…'
Their eggs had barely been eaten (and James' yoghurt and muesli was untouched) when the older MacGyver's phone chimed.
Mac watched him shift from Dad to Oversight instantly before his eyes as he read the text. Mere seconds later, he was getting up from his seat, pulling out his wallet, and dropping some cash on the table.
He did, however, pause before leaving the booth, and look at Mac.
'This…this was nice, Angus.' Mac had inherited his occasional social awkwardness from him too, even if James hid it better. 'We…we should do it again, sometime.'
Well, he was trying, at least.
Mac swallowed the slight bitterness in his mouth (which he knew wasn't really fair – how many times had he had to run off in the middle of some social engagement or the other?), and nodded.
'When…when will you be back?'
He kicked himself for how much like a kid he sounded.
But…it was his birthday in six days.
'When it's done.' Oversight pulled his coat tighter around himself. 'See you, son.'
Mac raised a hand in acknowledgement, trying not to roll his eyes at the flippant, entirely true and utterly infuriating response his father had given.
(He had to try too. Even if he honestly felt that most of the time, he was doing most of the trying.)
'See you, Dad.'
Mac sat there, staring at the abandoned bowl of muesli in yoghurt, and doing his best to bury that hope that his father would be there for his birthday at last (the hope that would not be buried), until the waitress, a woman old enough to be his mother, came up to him.
'You're staring awful hard at that yoghurt. Want it to go, sweetheart?'
He just nodded.
The microbiome of yoghurt was fascinating.
He could come up with a couple of experiments to throw his mind and his hands into.
Why waste perfectly good yoghurt, after all.
SIX DAYS LATER
MACGYVER'S RESIDENCE
LA
Mac smiled and shook his head fondly as he walked through his house, which was covered in birthday decorations, thanks to the efforts of Bozer and Penny (who'd conscripted just about everyone else, except him, since he was the birthday boy and all). He made his way out onto the deck, where Jack was standing, leaning against the railing with his back to the view.
His partner spun around when Mac walked up next to him, resting his elbows on the railing and staring out at LA.
Jack reached out and wrapped an arm around the younger man's shoulders.
'You made it through another year, eh, son?'
Mac's smile widened as he returned the side-hug.
'Thanks, Jack.'
Riley walked out onto the deck, three opened cold beers in hand, and the two men turned a little to face her. Quite deliberately, she handed the first beer to Mac, then passed another to Jack, before putting an arm around the blonde for a side-hug.
When she let go, she held up her beer in a toast.
'Happy Birthday, Mr Can-Do.'
Jack grinned, raising his own beer to Riley's, as Mac did the same, shaking his head a little at the nickname.
'Amen! I'll drink to that!' He pointed at Riley. 'You know, that's a real good one, gonna have to remember it…'
When Mac walked back inside, Bozer, in the kitchen, pointed very firmly at him.
'Stay outta here, bro! No sneak peeks!'
The blonde chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender.
Bozer was preparing his birthday cake and insisted on keeping it a surprise.
(Mac knew what it was anyway.)
(One of Bozer's famous and incredible eight-layered chocolate cakes, in the shape of several interlocking cogs.)
(Subtle wasn't really Bozer.)
(Still, of course he'd pretend to be surprised.)
(After all, he knew the secret ingredient of Bozer's top-secret, special-occasion hot chocolate.)
(Had for years.)
(Bozer was none the wiser.)
(As far as Mac knew anyway.)
Penny straightened the ridiculous plastic crown on his head with a rather firm motion, and Mac just held his hands up in surrender.
'I'll wear it, I promise!'
A combination of Nick, Carter and Jill had managed to wrangle the entire Edwards team into party hats.
Nick and Carter were grinning. Jill had a wide smile on her face, and May's hat was on a jaunty angle, matching the smile on her face. Rowena somehow managed to make the sparkly orange cone look elegant, and Alex, who had his arm around his girlfriend, let go of her and held his hand out to Mac, a teasing smirk on his face as he took in Mac's plastic birthday crown.
He tugged the younger agent a little closer, pulling him into a hug (complete with back-slapping, of course).
'Enjoy your twenty-ninth trip around the Sun.'
Mac chuckled.
'I will, thanks.'
Mac, crouching down, grinned up at Cassian, who'd very proudly handed him a picture he'd drawn for his birthday.
(It showed Mac – dressed like Bill Nye - teaching a science class of people who looked suspiciously like his friends-who-were-family.)
(It was definitely going to go over the mantle. He had some great wood and metal scraps he could make a frame out of for it.)
He carefully set the drawing aside on the coffee table, and hugged the boy with a grin.
'Happy birthday, Mac.'
'Thanks, buddy.'
A couple minutes later, Cassian had headed over to sample some of the samosas Bozer had made (using Mrs Patel from two doors down's recipe), and Diane smiled fondly as she watched Mac smile softly, affectionately, at the boy, then the lovingly-drawn picture on his coffee table.
'He spent three days on that.'
Cassian had a heart as big as Mac's or Jack's or Bozer's or (even if she sometimes tried to hide it – much less nowadays) her daughter.
Mac's smile widened as he looked over at Diane.
'It shows.'
He meant it, both ways.
Diane smiled a little wider, holding her arms out for a hug.
'Happy birthday.'
'Happy birthday, Mac.'
Beth stood just inside the front door, holding a very large cardboard box, neatly wrapped in colourful wrapping paper with a pattern of balloons on it, a wide smile on her face.
(The box was so big she had to tilt her chin up a little to be able to see over it.)
(It was odd-looking…but also oddly adorable.)
She handed him the box, which made a distractingly-pleasing series of metallic clanging sounds as he set it down on the floor next to them, before stepping forward for a hug. He tucked his chin over her shoulder, smile widening. Beth rose up on her toes a little to hug him better, which made her arms tighten just a fraction more around him.
(That was also really pleasantly distracting.)
(Her very pretty dress – light blue with yellow flowers, one of those 50s-style dresses with a full skirt – was not helping.)
(It had a hemline that fell to mid-calf and a neckline that was probably suitable for a schoolteacher…but it was still really distracting.)
(He just knew it'd occupy more of his mind over the next few hours than working out exactly what he'd been given for his birthday.)
(Which was saying a lot, because practically every box had made distinctly metallic noises when he'd shaken them gently.)
Don't be so surprised.
Some things are more…fascinating…than science.
Not very many things, but…well, between you and me, I'm hugging one of them right now.
Matty, a beer in hand, paused in her stroll from the kitchen back towards the deck and smiled at the view of the young agent and young doctor, heads close together and talking about something to do with the history of birthday decorations.
She raised her beer a fraction in a silent toast.
'Happy birthday, Baby Einstein.'
Bozer had already put the burgers on the grill out on the deck (where everyone had congregated to chat, share embarrassing stories about Mac and eat snacks) when there was a knock on the door.
Mac, who was just ducking out of the bathroom, furrowed his brow and headed over to the door. He checked the peephole (he'd learned his lesson about opening the door without checking who was on the other side), then opened it immediately to reveal his father.
'Dad? I thought you were in Costa Rica, chasing a lead?'
The older MacGyver gave an awkward half-shrug.
'It could wait a day.' He passed over the rectangular box he was holding in his right hand, wrapped in butcher's paper. 'Happy birthday, son.'
Mac took the box and smiled.
'Thanks, Dad.'
His father smiled back at him, looking a little less awkward, and then reached into the bag he had in his other hand and pulled out a Sonic the Hedgehog piñata.
Mac stared at it for a moment, then raised an eyebrow at his dad, who shrugged again.
'You wanted one for your ninth birthday…'
'And you wouldn't let me have one because you thought my fondness for an anthropomorphic blue hedgehog from a video game was childish and had gone too far.'
He couldn't help the touch of bitterness that leeched into his voice.
He'd been nine.
Every bit a kid.
And all he'd wanted for his birthday was his new best friend Bozer, his granddad and his dad to all be there and a Sonic the Hedgehog piñata.
James MacGyver just nodded, and held out the piñata to his now very-much-grown son.
'I'm not saying I was right.'
That was said softly, apologetically, even.
Said in a way that made it sound like, I was wrong.
(Not that James MacGyver would ever say those fateful words out loud.)
After a moment of the two of them staring at each other, Mac gave a little smile and took the piñata.
This was the closest his dad would come to apologizing.
And it at least seemed to serve the same purpose, more or less. Starting that conversation between them. Helping them to rebuild their relationship.
(Or, more accurately perhaps, build a new one.)
An hour and a half later, after they'd all eaten their fill of Bozer's incredible-as-always burgers, Mac and his dad were in the front yard, hanging the piñata from a tree.
Mac motioned for his father to lower the piñata a couple of feet, to well below what'd be shoulder level for him.
(Piñatas, like skee-ball, were fun for all ages.)
(But they were always more fun for kids.)
(Cassian was definitely more excited about it than Mac was.)
(Even if explaining what in the world a Sega Genesis was to the eight-year-old made him feel a little old.)
Piñata secured, father and son stood in silence, staring at the cardboard head of Sonic the Hedgehog.
Eventually, Mac broke the silence.
There was a conversation they had to have. The piñata was a good starting point for it.
'I was so angry when I was a kid. I was so mad that you couldn't have waited a few more days to leave, spent my tenth birthday with me, so I'd have that at least-'
'I had a mission at the time that could not wait, Angus.'
Mac pushed away the little stab of hurt those words shot through him.
What had he expected his dad to say? Something sappy about how he should have waited those few days, but couldn't bear to, because then he wouldn't have been able to leave?
There was silence again, this time with more tension through the air, before James broke it.
'Harry told me how you were.' He paused. 'He stayed up all night when you slept over at Bozer's the night before, trying to get me to come back, because you'd be devastated if I didn't come back in time.'
Mac glanced at his father, then stared into the distance for a moment. He hadn't known that.
I guess as my dad put it, my apparent 'greatness' comes from him.
Which I'd dispute, because both Mom and Grandpa were pretty brilliant too.
But he was right about the other part.
Grandpa made sure I'd grow into a good man.
He made sure I'd learn from his example.
After that beat of silence, Mac swallowed and continued.
'I waited the whole party for you. Swore up and down to everyone who asked, including Darlene Martin, that my dad was going to be home any minute now.' He paused, trying to let go of the worst of the bitterness and anger and still-hurting little boy in his voice. He probably didn't succeed. 'Grandpa made me do the cake twenty minutes before everyone had to go home.' James studied his face for a beat, before simply nodding in acceptance. Mac gestured at the piñata dangling from the tree. 'This piñata, Dad? It's not going to cut it.' It was a touching, sentimental gesture. Sometimes, in moments that he wasn't all too proud of, Mac was surprised that his dad remembered things like that. But it was not going to make up for years of hurt and lies and abandonment. (As far as Mac was concerned, the whole I-kept-an-eye-on-you-and-steered-the-entire-course-of-your-life-without-you-having-a-clue thing did not count as not abandoning him, and was even worse than actually abandoning him. He'd have forgiven James a lot easier and they wouldn't have this complicated relationship that might be the only unsolvable problem either of them had ever encountered if his dad had simply abandoned him, unable to bear the constant reminder of his dearly departed wife, and started a new family.) He took a deep breath. 'But it's a start.'
Twenty minutes later, the remnants of the piñata were on the grass under the tree, next to a foam-padded bat that Bozer had dug out from somewhere in his and Mac's house (they never threw anything out; you never knew when it could be useful), and a grinning Jack was running around the yard, being chased by Cassian because he'd stolen most of the candy.
(Riley just glanced at her mother with an eyebrow cocked, and Diane simply smiled one of her knowing little smiles, both women with plenty of affection in their eyes.)
Mac, meanwhile, smirked as his I-have-an-idea face appeared.
'Hey, Boze, remember that time we caught Archimedes in the woods near Donnie Sandoz's?' Bozer scrunched his face up for a moment (Archimedes had escaped so frequently, he and Mac had spent a lot of time chasing and catching the dog), before he, too, smirked. Mac's smirk widened a bit as he gestured to Jack and Cassian, who were still doing a pretty good Road Runner and Wile. E. Coyote impression, both of them laughing their heads off. 'We should level the playing field…'
After all, Jack's got a couple of feet on Cassian.
Plus years of experience and training as an elite soldier and covert operative.
Not really fair, is it?
Standing off to one side, sipping beer, Matty smiled as Cassian, Bozer, Mac and Jack played some kind of game that involved tossing M&Ms into each other's mouths (Jack had forgiven the two younger men for their intervention). She looked up at James as he, too, watched the scene, something far away, wistful, in his eyes, and smiled encouragingly at him.
'Today, you did the right thing, Jim.'
He'd long since grown used to and accepted the fact that Matilda Webber spoke to him like that.
That she was just as stubborn as he was, and not that he'd admit it, right just as often as he was.
And more frequently right than him when it came to matters like this.
(He had a lot of respect for her.)
(She'd have been – was, really – a better parent than he'd ever be.)
(Not that he'd admit that to anyone.)
(Hell, Jack Dalton was a better father than he'd ever been or ever would be.)
(He definitely wasn't admitting that.)
So, he just nodded and smiled, sipping his own beer.
PHOENIX FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS
SOMEWHERE IN LA
There was a map of Yemen on the screen when Mac, Jack and Riley walked into the war room. They all exchanged a glance, and Mac reached for a paperclip.
Given the current situation, any mission in the war-torn country in the midst of a humanitarian crisis was going to be hard…and heart-breaking.
Matty, standing at the front of the room, just nodded in agreement and acknowledgement, and tapped the screen, bringing up images of an overcrowded, run-down hospital.
'This is Al Thawrah Hospital. It's the major public hospital in Hodeidah, and it's almost out of nearly all essential supplies.' Mac's expression grew even grimmer, as the paperclip in his hands took the shape of a crescent. He reached for another one, which quickly became the more-recognizable 'square' cross symbol of the Red Cross. The Saudi-backed government coalition (which the US was also backing, albeit more indirectly) were blockading the country's major ports, which were in Houthi-rebel-controlled areas, causing mass starvation and shortages of other crucial supplies. 'In secret negotiations, US diplomats have extracted concessions from Houthi rebels in exchange for a large shipment of clean water, food and medical supplies.'
Mac, Jack and Riley exchanged another glance, before Jack crossed his arms, looking rather belligerent.
'What kind of concessions?'
In an ideal world, water, food and medical supplies for civilians should never be used as bargaining chips.
Unfortunately, we don't live in an ideal world.
Matty looked about as apologetic as she ever would about anything to do with their jobs.
'It's need-to-know.'
Mac sighed.
'And we don't need to know.' He gestured at the pictures of the hospital. 'We just need to smuggle the supplies through the blockade.'
Matty nodded.
'The US government can't be seen to be doing deals with the rebels. As always, if you're caught, you'll be disavowed and will probably spend the rest of your lives in a Saudi Arabian prison.'
The three of them all nodded seriously, then Jack headed for the door.
'Come on, what are we waiting for? Let's bounce! The people of Yemen need our help!'
Mac managed a little smile as he tossed the crescent and cross paperclips onto the coffee table.
Jack always managed to distill even complicated situations down to what really mattered.
PHOENIX JET
SOMEWHERE OVER WEST AFRICA
ON-ROUTE TO DJIBOUTI
'…What I'm saying, brother, is a leopard don't change his spots!'
Jack gestured emphatically at the file in front of him, which contained a primer on their local contact, Salim al Khulani, a former warlord who'd allied himself with the Saudi-Hadi-government coalition, before undergoing a change of heart, deserting and becoming some kind of cross between Han Solo and Robin Hood.
(He ran the blockade frequently in small, fast boats, smuggling small amounts of supplies in, or very sick civilians out.)
He'd agreed to assist in the operation to get a much larger boat of supplies through the blockade.
Mac gestured to his own copy of the file.
'He's spent the last two years risking his own life to help other people, Jack, without any hints of being a double agent.'
Riley gestured to her laptop.
'I have video footage. Lots of video footage.'
Jack crossed his arms and made a humph noise.
'All I'm saying is, we gotta be careful.'
'Aren't we always?'
SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE
(WELL, IT'S ON THE GULF OF TADJOURA)
DJIBOUTI
'As-salaam 'alaykum. Hello, and peace be upon you.'
Salim, a surprisingly young man of thirty-five with a short, neat beard, held out his right hand to Mac, who shook it with his own with a smile.
'Wa 'alaykum salaam.'
The smuggler's eyebrows rose slightly and he smiled and gave a little head-shake.
(People never expected a blonde young American to know much Arabic. Or really any at all.)
Salim then held out his hand to Jack, who took it and shook it briefly with a curt nod.
'Howdy.'
Mac shot his partner a look as Salim turned to his men to start organizing the loading of the supplies onto the boat they'd acquired for the mission.
Jack just crossed his arms stubbornly.
'Leopard. Spots.'
CAMP LEMONNIER
DJIBOUTI
Riley, in a small but secure room that'd been provided by Combined Joint Task Force – Horn of Africa command, spoke into the microphone on her headphones as she brought up satellite imagery.
'Got everything loaded up?'
SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE
DJIBOUTI
Jack watched as Mac, assisted by Salim and a couple of his men, secured the last tarp over the last set of boxes.
'Yeah, we're about to get going, Ri.' He paused. 'See you on the other side.'
'Be careful. The weather forecast isn't looking so good. They're forecasting storms and turbulent seas.'
Jack waved a hand with quite a bit of bravado.
'Eh, we'll be alright, Riles. We're all tough.'
NONDESCRIPT FISHING BOAT
(AT LEAST, THAT'S WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE)
RED SEA
40 MILES OFF DJIBOUTI
'I'm not gonna die, am I, brother? I'm too young and handsome to die!'
Mac rolled his eyes at his partner's theatrics.
The boat had hit the predicted inclement weather, and now they were pitching and rocking. It was made worse by the fact that aside from a couple of the men (unarmed – mostly – and disguised as simple local fishermen), they were all in the hold of the boat, which was stuffy and windowless.
To be fair to Jack, the seasickness was pretty awful.
Some of the worst he'd ever experienced.
As he tried to stare into the middle distance (it'd help the queasiness), his eyes were caught by some cardboard scraps.
A kernel of an idea growing in his mind, he reached out, grabbed it and started making some strategic cuts and folds.
A few minutes later, there were a couple of makeshift fans in the hold, increasing air flow.
It really did seem to help reduce their feelings of queasiness.
Jack reached out and clapped his partner on the shoulder, partly in pride (Salim's men were looking on as Mac built a third fan, rather awed) and partly in thanks.
'Now that's a good idea, brother.'
Mac finished the fan, winding up the pen-and-rubber-band rig that kept it running (it'd need rewinding every couple minutes, but it was far better than nothing) and set it down before jogging his partner lightly with his elbow, tone teasing.
'Most of my ideas are good.'
Jack raised an eyebrow at him.
'Portaloo. In a hurricane. In Micronesia.'
He'd nearly puked his guts out several times that day.
Mac looked a little sheepish, but shrugged anyway.
'A, we survived, and B, Jill managed to reconstruct those documents…'
Jack arched an eyebrow at him as he trailed off, and a couple of the men, who were mostly younger than Jack but older than Mac, chuckled. One of them spoke.
'Salim once decided that we should run aground. Deliberately.'
'To be fair, we did get away from those Saudi soldiers.'
And then, just like that, they were all sharing war stories.
Mac smiled as he wound up the fans again.
Distraction is an excellent cure for seasickness.
Mac and Jack were in the middle of a slightly-exaggerated and free-of-all-classified-info retelling of a mission off the coast of Iceland that'd involved some really rough seas when Salim climbed down into the hold, having been talking to the man who was driving the boat.
He reached into the messenger bag he had slung across his body and started pulling out packets of saltine crackers and passing them out.
Mac smiled as he received one, ducking his head in thanks.
'Thank you.'
Salim smiled back, and passed another pack of crackers to Jack, who gave a perfunctory and not particularly polite little nod.
The warlord-turned-smuggler seemed mostly nonplussed, though Mac got the impression he expected this sort of treatment.
Mac sighed internally as he bit into a cracker.
Jack was really, really stubborn once he'd made up his mind.
But he, like Mac, also believed in the goodness of people, and frankly, Mac had no idea why Jack had decided to fixate so much on the idea that Salim hadn't actually reformed and was playing some kind of long game.
(Mac got why it'd cross his mind – honestly, it had crossed his too; he was a covert operative who'd experienced his fair share of betrayal – but he didn't get why Jack was being so…well, Jack about it.)
(Actually, that was the explanation in itself, wasn't it?)
(Jack was Jack.)
'Guys, you've got a government patrol heading your way. ETA of just under an hour.'
Not long after nightfall, Mac and Jack exchanged a glance as Riley addressed them over Mac's phone.
Then, mere seconds later, Mac held his hand out to his partner.
'Give me your phone.'
Jack gestured at the phone in his hand.
'Why can't you use your own for once?'
Mac gestured to the hacker who was still on the screen.
'We're in the middle of a phone call!'
Riley raised her hands.
'Oh, do not get me involved in this, Mac. I'll call you two back if I have any more updates.'
And with that, she hung up…just as Jack realized that his partner had stolen his phone right out of his pocket.
'Brother, we had a talk about this, you can't just take my stuff-'
Mac prised the cover off with his Swiss Army knife and started doing something to the innards of what had been Jack's phone.
'Sorry, there's no time!' He pulled out a paperclip and started doing something with it and the insides of Jack's poor phone. 'I have to turn this into a radar jammer…' That'd go a long way towards keeping them hidden from the blockading ship, but when they got within visible distance, it wouldn't do them any good. '…and make us invisible.'
He started rushing off towards the other side of the hold, still working on his DIY radar jammer. Jack was left with no option but to follow him, still holding Mac's phone.
'How are you going to do that, man? You keep saying you ain't a wizard and can't actually do magic…'
Jack obediently taped the circle of green soft-drink-bottle plastic over the industrial-powered flashlight, then handed it over to his partner, who leaned over the side of the hull, a little too far for Jack's taste, and attached it to some kind of rig he'd put together.
'Alright, so how's lighting us up like a Christmas tree gonna help make us invisible? 'Cause the way I see it, this defuse lightning camouflage sounds like nonsense…'
Mac popped back up again and pointed at another, similar rig he'd put together halfway down the boat, directing one of the men who'd been watching him attach the flashlight, who just nodded and got to work attaching another flashlight. Then, he turned to his partner.
'Diffuse lighting camouflage. We're going to use the principle of counter-illumination.' Jack didn't look any more enlightened. Mac made one of those slightly-apologetic and still somehow slightly exasperated gestures he made when he was told to explain again, but in English and with smaller words. 'We're going to make the brightness of this ship match the night sky behind us, making our silhouette harder to see.'
'Why didn't you just say so?'
Mac just sighed in a very long-suffering way, already getting to work on another one of those rigs he'd made up using mostly spare rope and some nails.
'I did!'
Mac pursed his lips as he finished attaching the last flashlight to the last rig, which was as yet unattached to the ship.
This had to go onto the bow, which required climbing along the outside of the ship itself, pretty much relying on finding handholds and footholds in the rough wooden body.
It was pretty dangerous.
He should do it himself, but he had a whole heap of calculations to do to calibrate precisely how many of the flashlights to turn on and to what level (he'd thankfully rigged up a controller – using his own phone – so they wouldn't have to do it manually, but he still had to do the math) and they were running out of time…
Riley said they'd be within visible distance of the patrol ship within ten minutes.
Abdul, one of the older members of Salim's crew, ran up to him with a pen and a large piece of cardboard, which Mac accepted gratefully. His captain gestured at the writing utensils, then at the rig in Mac's other hand with his head.
'I can hang the flashlight; you do the math.' Salim gave a wry smile. 'Any one of us can hang a light, but you are the only one who can do such complicated calculations.'
The first thing that wanted to come out of Mac's mouth was that the calculations weren't really that hard, simply tedious and with a lot of variables, but he managed to rein that thought in. Instead, he smiled back at Salim and handed him the rig and the flashlight.
'Thanks.'
Jack watched as Salim swung first one leg, then the other, back onto the relative security of the ship's deck.
He noted the relief in many of the men's eyes that he hadn't slipped and fallen into the sea and possibly to his death.
This was a man who was a popular and respected leader.
The kind of man that others would follow into hell, because they knew he'd go there for them.
Maybe leopards could change their spots.
He was pretty sure his partner could come up with a way to make that happen.
(Mac had dyed his hair orange while they were in Afghanistan, somehow, after all.)
They all held their breaths as the patrol ship came within five hundred yards.
Then, when they heard the unmistakeable sound of it chugging away, followed a minute later by Riley saying that it was definitely heading away (over Salim's phone, as both Mac's and Jack's were no longer fit for their intended purpose), they let it out.
Jack grinned at his partner, putting an arm around his shoulders briefly.
'Always knew that defuse lightning stuff would work!'
'Diffuse lighting, Jack. Defuse lightning is just…nonsense!'
Mac's tone was very exasperated. He was pretty sure Jack – who was not stupid, even though he sometimes really acted it – was doing this on purpose.
Leaning against the opposite wall of the ship, Salim gave an amused smile, before it turned a little more sympathetic as he made eye contact with the blonde as Jack started telling everyone, whether they'd listen or not, all about defuse lightning camouflage.
An hour and about thirty miles later, Salim's phone rang, and he answered, before holding it out to Mac and Jack.
'It is for all of us.'
Riley's face was on the screen, and she looked very serious and grim.
'There's been a skirmish and a couple of airstrikes right next to Hodeidah's port. Hospital staff can't get there to pick up the supplies, and judging from these sat images I'm getting, you won't be able to land there anyway. We've arranged a new rendezvous point, I'm sending you the coordinates and the name of the nearest landmark now…'
Salim's phone beeped with a text, and they all read it through the notifications. The smuggler's face fell.
'I recognize this place. It is a good place to land a little boat, but this one is too big…'
Mac and Jack exchanged a worried glance, before the Texan clapped a hand on the younger man's shoulder, pasting an optimistic grin on his face.
'Well, if anyone can work out how to stick a big boat in a small hole, it's Mr Can-Do here…' Jack made a face. 'That sounded weird, didn't it?'
Mac had already raised an eyebrow when Jack started mentioning relative boat and hole sizes, and just nodded. He turned to Salim.
'You're far more familiar with the terrain and the smuggling business. Got any ideas?'
Salim pursed his lips, thinking.
'One or two.' His expression turned wry again. 'How many do you have?'
Mac's face scrunched up a little as he mentally sorted through the explosion of ideas in his brain that'd gone off the moment Salim said he'd recognized the place and that their boat was too big that hadn't been discarded yet.
'Uh…eight? No, wait, nine.'
It was said without any arrogance whatsoever, just as a simple statement of fact.
Salim gave a little chuckle, despite the situation, and leaned over to Jack.
'Is he always like this?'
'Pretty much.'
Ten miles.
Only ten more miles, and they would have made it.
As the other ship, bigger and sturdier than theirs, pulled up beside them, and government soldiers (far more rag-tag and rough than ones from movies, these guys really looked more like pirates) carrying semi-automatics jumped on board, Mac and Jack glanced at one another and slowly put their hands up.
Salim did the same, somehow managing it with more dignity.
He looked at the man wearing a captain's uniform, and spoke, his voice even, gaze cool and composed.
'As-salaam 'alaykum, Jamal.'
The captain laughed, a cruel sound, and spat crudely at Salim's feet.
'You really have gone soft, you dog. I did not believe the rumours at first, but now…' He flung one of the tarps off the crates of supplies. '…now you risk your neck to bring food and water and medicine with Americans instead of bringing us victory!' He laughed again, and then grew deadly serious and turned to one of his men. 'Tie their boat to ours. We may as well put their gifts to good use. Show our guests where they will be staying. Bring Salim to me.'
Sitting in a cell, complete with bars on the door, their hands bound with rope, Mac, Jack and Salim's men exchanged worried glances.
Abdul murmured something that sounded like a prayer under his breath, before glancing at the two Phoenix agents.
'Salim and Jamal were once friends. The best of friends. Jamal was Salim's second-in-command. But then…'
He trailed off. They knew the story from there.
Salim had had a change of heart.
Unfortunately, Jamal had not.
Far too many minutes later, Salim was dumped into their cell, his hands bound in cuffs, rather than in rope.
He was also badly bruised, and there was blood leaking from the corners of his mouth, his nose and a cut above his left eyebrow.
Abdul and a couple of the other men were at his side as fast as they could be, one of them trying to tear some cloth from his shirt for some kind of makeshift bandage, but Salim raised his cuffed hands.
'It…it is alright. I will be alright…'
Abdul helped him into a sitting position, and all of the men locked in the cell exchanged another worried glance, silence falling on them like a tomb.
Jack broke it, eventually, gesturing towards Salim with his head.
'Why'd you do it? You know, switch sides and betray your best friend and really piss him off, give up everything you had to be a Robin-Hood-Han-Solo?'
A couple of the men looked rather confused at the Robin-Hood-Han-Solo descriptor, but Salim just gave a soft little smile, which looked incongruous with his bloodied and bruised face.
'Someone put me in front of a mirror, and refused to let me look away from my sins.'
And suddenly, it hit Mac.
Glancing at the door, making sure that their guards were out of earshot, he leaned close to Jack, and whispered in his ear.
'I know how to get us out of here.'
Jack, to his and his years of experience's credit, managed to school his expression into something quite neutral, and leaned over to the next man to pass on the message, before turning back to his partner.
'How are you gonna do it?'
That look appeared on Mac's face.
'Oh, I'm going to get them to throw me overboard.'
Fifteen minutes later, still spewing Arabic insults, Mac was dragged onto the deck. Jamal's eyes were cold as he gave his orders, and only seconds later, Mac was hurled into the ocean.
Just before impact, he forced himself to relax his muscles and to take a deep breath.
Once underwater, he swam as best as he could, considering his bound hands, towards the ship, finding a rough edge of slightly-rusted metal, just as he'd been counting on.
He raised his wrists, moving them against the ridge as best as he could, using it as a makeshift blade.
Thankfully, the rope, of poor quality and well-used, was easy to cut through.
Hands free, he kicked back up to the surface, exposing his head for a second for a quick, deep breath, then dove back under again, pulling his Swiss Army knife out of his pocket.
(No-one ever thought to confiscate it.)
(At least, no-one who'd never seen him in action.)
'And then, I'm going to cause some chaos. Nothing that'll sink the ship, but plenty to cause a distraction…and that's where you guys come in.'
Back in their cell, Salim gave a wry smile.
'His command of our language is excellent. So is his vocabulary. His pronunciation leaves much to be desired.'
Jack chuckled.
Apparently, the same was true of Mac's Mandarin.
They heard some screeching noises, and then the ship came to a sudden, jerky stop. There was shouting in Arabic and the sound of boots thumping as their guards suddenly ran towards what they assumed was a bigger threat.
Jack, Salim and the men exchanged a glance, before Jack opened his fist to reveal the already-re-shaped paperclip Mac had passed to him. He scooted over to Salim and started picking the lock on his handcuffs.
'After that, there's the simple matter of taking the ship…'
Jack kneed the man in the stomach, making him emit a loud oof, before head-butting him to knock him out.
'Oh, yeah!'
He crouched down to grab the man's semi-automatic, and quick as a flash, shot the guy who was about to shoot Abdul, before running further down the corridor to help Salim, who was fending off a very angry Jamal.
'And then you'll have to pick me up before a shark gets me. Which is statistically highly improbable, but I'd appreciate being fished out ASAP.'
Jack scanned the waves around them, looking for his partner's thankfully-distinctive, overly-blonde head.
'Come on, son, come on…'
It'd been ten minutes and no sign of Mac.
Ten of the longest minutes of Jack's life.
He'd seen Mac nearly die far too many times for his (or Mac's) own good.
But there was something about losing him (nearly losing him, Jack told himself firmly) in the vast expanses of the ocean that was really getting to him.
Nothing like the ocean to make you realize that you were really tiny and insignificant and powerless.
Abdul pointed into the distance.
'There he is!'
Sure enough, there was Mac, blonde hair plastered all over his head, treading water. Jack waved and thwacked the side of the boat with a relieved grin. Salim, who was being patched up by one of the other men, smiled in relief too, as Abdul started directing the helmsman to steer them closer to Mac.
With a grin, Jack lowered the rope down the side of the ship. With a matching grin, his partner grabbed the other end, and started climbing, as Jack, Abdul and another man braced themselves as counterweights.
When the sopping-wet blonde reached the deck, Jack punched him in the arm, then pulled him into a hug.
'That was genius, son! Don't ever do it again!'
RENDEZVOUS POINT
SOMEWHERE NEAR HODEIDAH
YEMEN
They were just pulling the tarps off the supplies when some beaten-up trucks, all with the universal symbols of the Red Cross and the Red Crescent on them, pulled up.
A woman who couldn't have been much older than thirty, in scrubs and a headscarf jumped out of the driver's seat of the first truck, and started giving orders in rapid-fire Arabic.
Salim smiled, and he and his men began to form a human chain to efficiently pass the supplies over to the hospital workers.
The woman herself jogged over, calling out greetings to most of Salim's men, addressing them by name. Up close, Mac could see a burn scar on her left cheek, which disappeared under her headscarf. A similar scar poked out from under the left sleeve of the long-sleeved shirt she wore beneath her scrubs, the irregular shape extending out onto her hand. They greeted her back, and from that, Mac picked up that her name was Fatima, and that she was a doctor…and was very special to a certain warlord-turned-Han-Solo-Robin-Hood.
He smiled.
Fatima took a box and retraced her steps to load it into the truck she'd jumped out of. Salim followed, holding another box, as Mac and Jack took their own loads over to another waiting vehicle.
As they put the boxes in and turned around, Jack made a little noise in his throat and then held up his hands in a loose gesture of surrender.
'Alright, maybe leopards really can change their spots. At least, maybe leopards named Salim can.'
Mac looked incredulously at him.
'Now you believe he's changed?'
After everything else that'd happened…
Jack simply gestured over to where Salim and Fatima were standing by the truck. They were hardly touching, right hands barely brushing, but the way they were looking at each other, and the way that they were smiling at one another, made it seem as if he'd swept her into a passionate kiss, then maybe spun her around for good measure.
The two Phoenix agents looked away from the intimate moment, and Jack pointed very firmly at his partner.
'There ain't anything a man won't do to get a woman who he looks at like that to smile at him like she's smiling now, so yeah, he's definitely on the side of the angels now.'
I agree with Jack that Salim is definitely reformed.
I also agree that it probably does have a lot to do with Fatima.
But at the end of the day, I firmly believe that change has to come from within.
The people you love, they can help, to an extent.
They can be your motivation, to an extent.
They can help show you where you're going wrong.
But you need to change for yourself.
PHOENIX FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS
SOMEWHERE IN LA
As Bozer tidied up his work area, the lab doors swooshed open, revealing Beth, dressed in a soft-looking grey Henley and blue jeans, her bag over her shoulder, having obviously just clocked out. He grinned at her.
'Hey, Beth.'
'Hi, Bozer. Are you done for the day?'
He nodded.
'Just got a whole disguise kit done for May.' He smirked. 'What's up, Doc?'
He'd been dying to use that one for ages.
Beth snorted, shaking her head with what could only be described as fond exasperation.
'Please do not say that in front of Jack, he'll say that every time he sees me if you put the idea in his head…' Her expression grew a little more serious. 'And, well, if you're going home…could you give me a hand with something?'
MACGYVER'S RESIDENCE
LA
Mac, Jack and Riley, exhausted but relieved and proud, walked in the front door, to be greeted by delicious smells in the air.
Beth was at the kitchen counter, picking up slices of bruschetta with tongs and placing them on plates, while Bozer took a lasagne out of the oven.
Bozer grinned and Beth smiled as they filed into the living room, and then, as soon as she could put the tongs down, the young doctor rushed over and quite literally flung her arms around Mac.
'Thank you.'
It took him half a second to recover from the shock, and hug her back, tucking his chin over her shoulder with a soft smile.
I don't do this for recognition or thanks or even gratefulness. I do what I do because it's the right thing to do.
Still, I gotta admit, this is a really nice auxiliary benefit…
Hey, I'm human.
After a very pleasant, long moment, she let go of him, a little awkwardly, cheeks a bit pink from embarrassment, and reached out to hug Jack, as Bozer, who'd strode over from the kitchen at a more leisurely pace than Beth, waggled his eyebrows and smirked, making Mac roll his eyes fondly, before the shorter man bumped his fist to the blonde's to initiate their not-so-secret handshake, then pulled him into a hug.
After the excellent dinner, thanks to Beth and Bozer, they all sat out on the deck, sipping beers and toasting marshmallows.
Riley was texting Billy, looking more than a little distracted. Her lips were pursed and she seemed a little frustrated.
(They hadn't had a chance to see each other for ages, after they'd had to cancel plans three times since Christmas, twice for Riley's job, once for Billy's.)
Jack resisted the urge to go over there and wrap the young woman he still sometimes thought of as his little girl (pseudo-father and maybe-one-day stepfather's prerogative) in his arms in comfort, nudging her to tell him all about it (and possibly threatening to do some damage to Billy if he was being an ass about Riley's job).
He knew she wouldn't appreciate it.
Riley liked to live her own life, and while she did share a lot of it with them, that was on her own terms.
As Riley finally gave a soft little smile at her phone, Bozer saved her abandoned marshmallow from catching fire by taking the stick himself, muttering something about lovebirds with an indulgent head-shake, and got to work putting together a s'more for the hacker, before returning to making his own.
On the other side of the fire, Mac was showing Beth his prism collection.
(Jack almost wished that was a euphemism, but it wasn't.)
(He literally was showing her his prism collection.)
(At that moment, Beth had her cheek pressed to the deck, looking through a line of prisms at the fire, as Mac chattered excitedly about diffraction and refraction and angles of incidence.)
(Mac's romance game was weird, just like him.)
(To be fair, it seemed to be working. The young woman looked fascinated and rather impressed, particularly by his dodecagonal prism and whatever math he was now scribbling on the chocolate bar wrapper.)
Jack shook his head affectionately, turning to Matty, who sat on his left, and then James MacGyver, who sat on his right.
(Their boss and their boss's boss had shown up – with beer and s'mores supplies – just as they sat down to eat.)
(Matty had strode right in as usual, but James had actually waited a moment at the door, as if to check he was welcome.)
He gestured with his beer vaguely in the direction of Mac and Beth, who were now having some kind of lively discussion full of words that Jack did not recognize.
(From the look on his face, James clearly did and was trying not to interject.)
(Jack took that as a good sign.)
(Sometimes, a father had to step back.)
(When your son was in the middle of trying to woo a woman – no matter how weirdly – was one of those times.)
'You MacGyver men never do anything the normal way, do you?'
James gave a little smile, more soft and fond than superior.
(Jack was pretty sure he took 'not normal' as a compliment.)
'No, no we don't.'
AN: Did you guys like Mac's birthday? I thought it'd be a really important benchmark/touchstone in his relationship with his dad, given that Mac stopped celebrating his birthday for fifteen years because his dad left just before his tenth. (Seriously, Mac does not do anything by halves, does he? Stop celebrating your birthday for more than half your life because your dad left just before your tenth, dramatically quit your job and move to the other side of the world with no intentions of returning in a reaction to the revelation he's secretly been your boss's boss for years…) Hopefully you think I did it justice? I hope you guys liked the mission; I've wanted to do a mission like this for ages and almost put one into Every End is a Beginning. I tried a bit of a different format with Mac's plan to free them from Jamal and his men; I have a sneaking suspicion that it'd be better on TV than it is in words, but hopefully you still liked it? And yes, I firmly maintain that MacGyver men do not do anything the normal way, and you gotta admit, Mac's prism collection is pretty cool (I've only seen one better one, and that is in the archives/museum of the School of Chemistry at my university)!
There will be an episode tag in Detours for this ep. It should be up on Wednesday. Here's the summary:
Yenta, tag to 3.16, Supplies to Hospital. 'She's real smart, real pretty and she's got some spitfire in her. Everyone knows our boy's got a type. And she started weeks after he quit, then took it back. Hell of a coincidence, ain't it?' Jack confronts James about something that's been bothering him.
Yup, I finally wrote a serious one (I promised, remember?)!
And here's the press release for the next ep:
3.17, Black to White. A security breach at the Pentagon leads to the team working with a CIA white hat…whom Riley has a history with. Bozer demonstrates he's learned his lesson, and Billy pays Riley a surprise visit.
Thoughts on 3.04, Guts + Fuel + Hope:
Probably an unpopular opinion owing to the utter absence of Jack (and our favourite bromance), but I think I have a new favourite episode from this season! I really enjoyed it – such a MacGyver mission, with Mac at his most, well, Mac. I kinda saw Vasil's betrayal coming (from when he ducked away to call his wife), but it was still a good twist, and a nice little insight into the complexities and difficulties of living in such an unstable region. (I think Mac and Riley are being a bit simplistic at the end, but it's also pretty Phoenix team, so…) I really liked how Riley, Matty and Bozer were gently calling Mac out about his behaviour towards his father and nudging him, and I think Riley was a really good choice of character to talk to Mac about rebuilding his relationship with his father, given her own experiences. (I love Jack, I love how he kept nudging Mac but always taking his side in the Season 2 finale and in Improvise, but I really liked what they did, too. Everyone who matters to Mac – including Nasha – has now had a chat with him relating to his dad, and I think that really nicely reflects the Phoenix family and his relationship with them.) The little bit at the end with Matty and Bozer about Jill was also really great, and I did like how Mac showed up to start a conversation with his dad. Hopefully it doesn't become all sunshine and roses between them (they have a lot to sort out, and James has an apology to make and lots of questions to answer) but what Mac and Riley were talking about, about having their eyes wide open, essentially, gives me hope that they won't.
Chemist moment: Liquid oxygen...sparks…high-speed car chase…oh, God, they are very brave! I had to watch videos about the dangers of liquid oxygen when I started my Honours. We have a piece of equipment in the lab called a high-vac that we use for drying the compounds we make that, if put together improperly, will lead to the condensation of liquid oxygen, with a decent chance of a very dangerous explosion resulting…they show us videos to horrify us into doing it properly (and junior students must be closely supervised when setting it up to run overnight…).