AN: Very minor crossover with Scorpion here. We also have particularly obnoxious bad guys in this ep (warning for harm to a small child). This is also the shortest ep to date; I think, however, that the next one will be particularly long to make up for it.

Thoughts on 3.06, Murdoc + MacGyver + Murdoc, at the end of this chapter, with spoilers.

DISUSED WINE CELLAR

A BAD GUY'S CHATEAU

SWITZERLAND

'…I'm just saying, brother, ain't it a bit early to go all daddy-on-the-porch-with-a-death-ray? She just met the kid!'

Valerie had met a boy name Ralph when she was in LA for a special program at CalTech. He was, according to what she'd told Mac, also fourteen (nearly fifteen), was incredibly intelligent (he was already a CalTech student) and got her weird and seemed to like it, and had an amazing mom, a genius stepdad who was really cool and several also-genius and also-awesome surrogate family members.

Mac had worn his someone-stole-all-my-toasters-and-insulted-my-mom, paperclips-and-duct-tape expression the entire flight to Switzerland as a result of Jack bringing it up.

The blonde, who was at the wine cellar door, working frantically on something involving his Swiss Army knife and a couple of bobby pins (which weren't black, so he couldn't have borrowed from Riley…instead, they were light brassy-bronze, clearly meant for someone with light brown hair, something which Jack meant to annoy his partner about later), made an exasperated gesture.

'Is this really the time, Jack?'

(He knew he was probably being a little unreasonable, but A, Valerie wasn't even fifteen, B, he really cared about her, and C, Riley was a fully grown woman of twenty-eight, and Jack still went all Wookie-with-a-bowcaster-who-will-rip-your-arms-off-if-you-hurt-my-baby-girl…but this wasn't the time for this discussion.)

(He had to get this door open within the next four minutes, or he and Jack were going to be swimming with the fishes.)

(Pretty much literally.)

(The water level in the room had reached the bottom of Jack's ribs.)

PHOENIX FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS

SOMEWHERE IN LA

Mac (chewing on a bite of homemade Reuben sandwich), Bozer (about to take a bite of an identical sandwich), Riley (eating a third Reuben – Bozer had made an extra one for her; Riley was a terrible cook) and Beth (spearing a piece of whole-wheat macaroni coated with a tomato-based sauce with her fork) all exchanged fond, slightly teasing looks as Jill grinned at her phone, her lunch forgotten.

(She was texting Alex, who was on-route home from Argentina, where he'd been for the last week, along with the rest of the Edwards team.)

Then, just as he swallowed his mouthful of sandwich, Mac's phone rang.

It was a number he didn't recognize. He wasn't expecting any calls.

With a coil of worry rapidly developing in his stomach (thanks, Murdoc – not), Mac put down his lunch and answered, a hush falling around the table as he did so.

'MacGyver?' He recognized that voice. There was a lot more desperation in it than the last time he'd heard it, though. 'This is Secretary Vasquez.' SecDef. 'I need your help. You're my only hope.'

'…Three hours ago, SecDef's granddaughter was kidnapped in D.C.' Mac tapped the screen and a photo of a little girl wearing a Princess Anna costume appeared. 'Gabby Vasquez is three years old.' Jack cursed under his breath, as his, Riley, Bozer, Matty and Jill's expressions all grew grimmer. 'The kidnappers call themselves The Hand of Justice. They're a terror cell that popped up on the radar a few months ago and appear to be mostly home-grown.'

Jack skimmed the short briefing that'd popped up on the screen for a second, before turning to his partner, who'd reached for a paperclip as they read.

'Demands?'

Mac shook his head.

'None.' He tapped the screen again. 'All they said was she was taken as retribution…' There was a distinct note of anger in Mac's voice. '…and they sent him this link and told him to watch it in what is now twenty-one hours' time.'

It was a blank livestream page. The mood in the room grew grimmer.

The endgame did not look good for little Gabby Vasquez.

Especially as everyone knew that the US government did not negotiate with terrorists.

Even SecDef was powerless.

Mac nodded again as it all sank in, before continuing.

'Law enforcement is doing everything they can, but…'

Jack walked over and squeezed the younger man's shoulder.

'He's a worried grandfather and he wants to call in the A-team.' He squeezed Mac's shoulder again. 'So Boze, Ri and Jill are gonna do their things and find us these SOBs, and we're gonna save the little damsel-in-distress and kick their butts as usual…'

'No, Dalton, you will not.' Oversight (and he was unmistakeably Oversight, not James MacGyver, not Mac's dad, at that moment) popped up on the screen, looking very stern. Jack opened his mouth to protest, while Mac shot his father a very dirty look. 'This is not our job. This would be an unauthorized mission on US soil.'

In some ways, operating on US soil on authorized missions was even more dangerous for them than working overseas. They couldn't just walk away when it was all done, as Mac's pickle two Christmases ago had shown.

Mac's hands started working the paperclip he was holding even faster. Jack crossed his arms stubbornly.

'SecDef called Mac. SecDef, man! We've been authorized.'

'He's compromised, and this is personal. Angus got that request from Julian Vasquez, not SecDef.'

'Then get us authorized!'

'I can't do that, Dalton.'

Jack looked like he might punch Oversight if he were actually in the room.

Mac tossed his re-shaped paperclip (it was a set of scales) on the coffee table, before looking Oversight dead in the eye.

'Unauthorized or not, I'm going. Gabby is three years old.' He grabbed his leather jacket from where he'd flung it over the armchair's back, and shrugged it on. 'You can court-martial me when she's safe.'

Mac walked over to the door, opened it and left the room.

Jack shot Oversight one last glare, before following his partner.

'Wait up, brother!'

Bozer did his best to stare down Oversight with his best Matty-the-Hun impression, Riley crossed her arms and Jill tilted her chin up a little and hoped that she looked just as tough as the field agents.

'What Mac said.'

'100% agreed.'

'I'm with him.'

Then, all three of them filed out of the room, leaving Matty.

James sighed and glanced down at her. Matty just raised an eyebrow at him, as if to say, what did you expect?

He sighed again, something frustrated (and not at the insubordinate agents, either) in the sound, Matty could tell.

(Perhaps no-one else could, except maybe Cage. Even Mac would be unlikely to be able to tell, she thought.)

One always had to pay a high price for the corner office.

Matty had disagreed with James's choices many times in their long acquaintance…and had made her opinion known, as was her way.

But this time, she understood why he'd said what he'd said.

Being Oversight put him in very difficult positions from time to time.

(That Christmas, he'd had to let the LAPD charge his own son with domestic terrorism and would have had to let them put him in jail if they hadn't managed to prove he'd been set up.)

The two of them locked eyes for a moment, an understanding passing between them.

He knew she was going to use Phoenix resources (or rather, allow the use of Phoenix resources) to help the team rescue Gabby.

And she knew that ultimately, he'd cover for her as best as he could.

Matty nodded once, then James hung up the video call, and she walked out of the room.

When she stepped out of the war room, Beth was handing Mac and Jack a medical kit.

When she saw her boss, the doctor stood up very straight and locked eyes with Matty, something fierce in her eyes, something very determined and protective.

'Neither you nor Oversight can order me to violate the Hippocratic Oath, the Declaration of Geneva or any other ethical codes associated with my profession. It's in my contract.'

(As they watched, Jack was hiding a grin rather poorly and Mac had a look on his face that was somewhere between admiring and besotted with a touch of something else that Matty did not want to think about.)

Matty just nodded, a small smile on her face.

'Good work, Doc.'

PHOENIX JET

SOMEWHERE OVER THE MID-WEST

ON-ROUTE TO D.C.

In the 'commandeered' Phoenix jet (the pilot had volunteered to help them, consequences be damned, once he'd heard what – or rather, who - their unauthorized mission was for; the Phoenix hired a certain type of person, and that type of person was not going to let rules and regulations stand in the way of saving a three year old girl's life), Jack leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees, and sought out his partner's gaze.

(Mac was toying with a couple of paperclips and another one of those brass-bronze bobby pins.)

'So, brother…you wanna talk about your latest disagreement with your dad?'

Mac sighed, shoving his paperclips and the bobby pin back into his pocket. He did, however, remain silent. Jack raised an eyebrow expectantly at him, and the two of them had a staring contest.

Mac blinked first, both literally and figuratively.

(Jack had had lots of practice against Matty and his times were improving.)

The blonde sighed again, then spoke, his voice clipped. He clearly didn't want to talk about this.

'I had a disagreement with Oversight.'

'Who happens to be your old man, son.' Jack paused. 'You're good at compartmentalizing, but you ain't a robot; way you're reacting right now tells me you can't fully separate the two.'

Mac stared at him for a moment in a way that told Jack that his partner knew he was right, but still definitely didn't want to talk about it.

(Jack had seen that look many times in relation to James MacGyver and Mac's relationship with him.)

'We need to focus, Jack. We've got a kid to save.' Mac glanced at his phone, which was propped up on the window sill, the microphone muted while on video-call mode. He turned the mike back on, and spoke. 'Bozer, Riley, Jill, any updates?'

PHOENIX FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS

SOMEWHERE IN LA

Bozer and Riley exchanged a glance and a sigh, Bozer speaking as Riley kept typing.

'More MacGyver family drama…' He gave a wry smirk, looking inspired. 'They could give the Kardashians a run for their money!'

Riley snorted, and socked Bozer in the arm without even looking away from her laptop screen.

'Except for the fact that most of the drama has to do with highly classified stuff.' She glanced over at Bozer. 'And you really want to immortalize your BFF's complicated, angst-heavy and painful relationship with his father in film?'

(Sometimes, Bozer needed reminding about boundaries, even if his heart was in the right place.)

Bozer made a face, then rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

'Yeah…not a good bro thing to do.'

Meanwhile, Jill made a noise of triumph and looked up from her laptop screen, looking up at the big screen which showed Mac and Jack, just as Mac asked if they had an update.

(He had really good timing.)

'I've got something. A Hand of Justice safehouse in the Arlington area.' Her fingers flew over the keys. 'Sending you the address now…'

A new email popped into Riley's inbox from Matty. She opened it and gave a little smile.

When Matty the Hun set her mind to anything, she would get it done. God help anyone who stood in her way.

'Matty reports…' Riley was sure, as they all were, that that should be read as Matty has organized or Matty has called in a favour to make sure that. '…that an FBI SWAT team will be waiting for you on the tarmac when you land in Virginia. They're under your command.'

There was a knock on the door, and at Bozer's come in!, the door opened to reveal Alex, wearing his customary black leather jacket and carrying two bags of what smelled like Chinese takeout (the heavenly scent of pot-stickers permeated the air), a bag that seemed to contain chips and pretzels and a cardboard cup holder with three jumbo-sized cups of coffee in it.

He set down the food and drink on the coffee table, and then reached out to squeeze Jill's hand comfortingly, the couple talking quietly for a moment.

Bozer and Riley exchanged a smile.

The Phoenix was full of really good people.

THE HAND OF JUSTICE SAFEHOUSE

ARLINGTON

VIRGINIA

Mac pressed a button on the thingamajig he'd put together (using a megaphone 'borrowed' from the FBI team, Jack's poor unfortunate phone and the bobby pin that Jack was sure belonged to Beth). Apparently, it'd knock out any kind of electronic security system The Hand of Justice had in place.

He counted in his head for one minute, before nodding to Jack, who signalled to the leader of the FBI SWAT team, and they moved in, the heavily-armed SWAT team first, followed by Mac and Jack, the latter in a set of spare SWAT gear and with his own weapon in hand.

Mac picked up the floor lamp and swung it at the guy who was rushing at him with a giant knife, as Jack cleanly shot another terrorist through the knee, making the man drop to the floor. The lamp's head broke off, stunning the man and throwing him off-balance, and Mac quickly tested the weight and balance of the remains of the lamp, then, satisfied, pressed his advantage, using the lamp stand as a bo staff. Meanwhile, Jack kicked the shot terrorist's dropped gun underneath the TV console, then knocked the man out with the butt of his own gun, before swinging around and shooting the guy with the knife through the shoulder. A strategic and precise strike by Mac with the lamp-stand-bo-staff then knocked him unconscious, as gunshots kept ringing out.

Jack gestured to the couple of SWAT guys in the living room with them (there were three other terrorists either dead or unconscious on the floor), as Mac ducked his head into the corridor.

He pulled it back quickly, then gestured at the other three in the room.

'They've barricaded themselves in the kitchen.'

Two minutes later, the kitchen (which was thankfully large) was a chaotic mess.

Mac, clutching a tomato, punched the terrorist who was attempting to stab him in the eye socket, making sure the tomato juice got into his eyes. As the man struggled to clear it enough to see and dealt with the stinging sensation (tomato juice might not sting as badly as something citrus, but it still packed a punch…pun unintended), Mac kneed him hard in the stomach, then shoved him even harder into the kitchen counter.

'Mac!'

At the sound of Jack's voice, with so much packed into a single syllable, he immediately dropped to a crouch, as a bullet went whizzing over his head. There was another gunshot, as one of the SWAT team shot the guy who'd nearly shot Mac.

A minute later, the chaos has calmed.

There were only three terrorists left, held at gunpoint by the SWAT team and Jack.

The eldest of the three men (all three were almost-distressingly young) just smiled darkly.

'You're too late, infidels. She's gone.' His smile widened. 'And she will scream and burn and hurt, just as all your children should-'

He was cut off as Jack launched himself at him, grabbing him by the throat with his left hand and pinning him to the wall, punching him several times with his right hand, before grabbing his gun and holding it to the man's head.

He just laughed, as Mac held out a hand, speaking calmly.

'We need him alive, Jack.'

(His partner had a temper. Sometimes, it got the better of him. Jack did wear his heart on his sleeve, felt everything so keenly, after all.)

(And Mac got it. He'd felt that anger course through him too at the terrorist's words, even if he'd managed to hold it in check.)

Slowly, Jack pulled his gun back, and then brought the butt of his gun down on the terrorist's forehead, before letting him drop to the ground like a sack of potatoes, making no attempt to ease his fall.

Then, Mac cursed internally as one of the other terrorists seized a pile of documents from the kitchen table, while the other turned on one of the stove burners, and the first tossed the papers onto the burner.

It'd been a distraction. And it'd worked.

Seconds later, both of the terrorists were down, nursing gunshot wounds in the shoulder and the knee respectively, and Mac was running over to the stove, reaching in and grabbing the burning papers, heedless of the flames.

Two minutes later, the half-burned papers were flour-covered, but otherwise undamaged, and Mac's left hand was sporting a red, throbbing patch which he ignored.

As Jack and a couple of the SWAT team hauled the surviving terrorists into separate rooms for interrogation, a couple more field-dressing their wounds, Mac photographed the pieces of paper, which mostly seemed to have Arabic text written on them, after shaking off the flour.

He sent off the photos to Jill, before dialling her number on video-call.

'Hey, Mac. I'm assuming you want me to work out what's on those papers you sent me?'

He nodded, a little smile on his face. Jill was very quick on the uptake, as always.

'Yeah, my written Arabic is really rusty. And I'm better at setting stuff on fire than reconstructing stuff that's been on fire…'

Jill chuckled, nodding, before her expression grew serious.

'I'm on it. I'll let you know as soon as I get something.'

Jack toyed with his gun as he very deliberately leaned closer to the man (the one he'd nearly killed earlier) duct-taped to the heavy wooden chair.

'We can do this the hard way, or the easy way.'

The terrorist just laughed.

'You are some kind of law enforcement. You people have rules that you cannot break. How hard can the hard way be?'

Jack just grinned darkly back at him.

'Well, you're wrong there, buddy. I'm on an…unauthorized mission. So, right now, I ain't law enforcement.' Jack gestured to the room at large. 'And there's no-one else here…and no cameras or mikes…so…' He tapped the barrel of his gun on the terrorist's knee. 'Easy way or hard way?'

Mac strode through the safehouse, searching for clues, with a bag of frozen peas duct-taped to his left hand.

(He was well aware that cold water would be superior, but he didn't have time to stand with his hand under a tap. Not with Gabby still in danger.)

He ducked into one of the bedrooms, carefully inspecting the bedding, sniffing the pillow (and making a face), then tipping out the trashcan and studying the contents.

PHOENIX FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS

SOMEWHERE IN LA

As Mac hung up after sending some photos of financial documents and receipts he'd located in the safehouse and updating them, Bozer glanced at Riley, his brow furrowed.

'Did…did you see that? The peas?'

He said it as if he couldn't believe it.

(It wasn't the fact that there was a packet of frozen peas duct-taped to his BFF's hand that was weird – Mac had once worn a hat made out of three pineapples attached together with pineapple leaves for some kind of strange competition with his engineering buddies in his MIT days; Bozer had photographic evidence from Smitty – but the fact that he'd decided to treat an injury that wasn't, you know, life-threatening or mission-threatening, while in the middle of a really, really urgent mission.)

(And people didn't believe that love could change you completely! Bozer was firmly convinced he was looking at cold, hard evidence that it totally could.)

Riley nodded, and Bozer groaned.

'Seriously, Beth, where have you been most of my life?'

That was said with all the long-suffering drama of someone who had spent more than two-thirds of their life attending to the care and feeding of one Angus MacGyver.

(Great guy, big brain, bigger heart, but nearly no sense of self-preservation and questionable self-care skills when caught up in an idea or a mission or some kind of duty or responsibility – so, often.)

Riley raised an eyebrow and snorted, but still reached out and patted Bozer's shoulder comfortingly. He sighed, and then, dramatic moment over, sat up and started digging through the money trail.

They had to find Gabby in time.

THE HAND OF JUSTICE SAFEHOUSE

ARLINGTON

VIRGINIA

Mac held his tweezers up to eye level, studying the hot-pink thread held in them.

Gabby Vasquez had been wearing a hot-pink T-shirt when she'd been taken.

He glanced over at the pile of trash in the corner.

Taking into account level of decay, the garbage collection schedule for this area, and the quantity…that was far too much trash for just the twelve men they'd captured to generate.

They were looking at a minimum of twenty-four men in total.

Jack smiled at the terrorist, who stared back at him with hatred.

The hatred of someone who knew they'd been beaten.

'See? That wasn't so hard, was it, man?'

Jack stepped out of the room, pulled out the phone he'd 'borrowed' from the SWAT team, and called Riley.

'Hey, Ri…terrorists left with Gabby only an hour ago.'

PHOENIX FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS

SOMEWHERE IN LA

Jill's laptop pinged as the reconstruction algorithm she'd been running on the digitally cleaned-up images of the papers Mac had sent to her finished running.

She started scrolling through the Arabic text that had been reconstructed, pursing her lips worriedly, before glancing over at Riley and Bozer, turning her laptop screen around so that they could see.

(Neither of them could read – or speak – Arabic, so it was probably kind of moot.)

'It's a script for an announcement in Arabic; the gist of it is that they are acting to achieve vengeance on infidels and the killers of their women and children…'

Bozer swallowed, then spoke, voice small and fearful, as Riley began to type with renewed fervour.

'Sounds like a script for an execution…one to make a point.'

Jill just nodded.

It confirmed their worst fears.

Mac and Jack and the FBI SWAT team needed to rescue Gabby Vasquez before the time was up.

And they only had three hours left.

Forty minutes later, Riley looked up from her laptop, a muted kind of triumph that was really more relief in her eyes.

Her algorithm, which incorporated every single scrap of intel they'd found, including all of Bozer's money trail work, had gotten a hit, which she'd then verified with satellite imagery.

She pressed a couple of keys, and then a picture of a warehouse (nondescript, as always) in an industrial area on the outskirts of Norfolk, appeared on the screen.

'We found them.'

SWAT TEAM VAN

ON-ROUTE TO THE HAND OF JUSTICE'S WAREHOUSE

VIRGINIA

In the back of the van, Jack leaned forward to speak to the driver, and immediately, they started going faster.

Meanwhile, Mac's phone chimed as Riley sent through the warehouse's schematics. He opened the file, studied them for a moment, then handed his phone off to Jack and the leader of the SWAT team, so they could plan an assault.

There was silence for a moment as the two men thought, before Jack spoke.

'It's an open area, they'll see us coming.'

The SWAT leader nodded in agreement, rather grimly.

'With their mind-set, they're not gonna use Gabby as a hostage to get out of there alive. They consider themselves martyrs. There's not going to be a stand-off. Instead…'

He didn't need to say it out loud.

These self-proclaimed bringers of 'justice' would kill her to achieve 'vengeance', before going down in a 'blaze of glory'.

Jack turned to his partner, without a trace of his usual humour and goofiness.

Even he couldn't muster up a little lightness for this darkness.

'Brother, we gotta somehow secure Gabby and/or neutralize those SOBs before we breach the warehouse. Anything shaking out of that big brain of yours?'

Mac was silent for a moment, his thinking face firmly on, before it changed to his I-have-an-idea face and he reached out, seized the medical kit and started pulling out rolls of gauze bandages.

Jack gave a little smile.

Slowly, the smile morphed into a look of bemused amazement as the number of rolls of gauze bandages Mac pulled out of the med-kit (which was not gigantic or anything, and which Jack knew had to contain all the essentials, plus the extras Beth always included) kept growing.

Mac made a noise of satisfaction when he extracted the last roll, bringing the total to fifteen.

Even the SWAT team members looked amazed.

Jack raised his brows, pointing at the bandages.

'That's a lot of gauze…'

Mac picked up the first roll and started unwinding it, a little smile on his face.

'Beth is really good at packing.'

He said that in the same tone that Jack had heard his fellow soldiers say things like my girl makes the best pie south of the Mason-Dixie line or she's the most beautiful woman I've ever laid my eyes on or she's the best mama to our little ones.

(Of course Mac would find uncanny packing skills to be an attractive trait. Especially when said packing skills provided him with materials to do his thing.)

(Jack had come to realize that this was all explained by Mac being a MacGyver man. He might only have met two of them – only two of them currently existed, anyway, unless James had another crazy secret he was keeping from Mac – but he'd learned that MacGyver men were just plain weird and did not do anything the normal way.)

(After all, as best as Jack could tell from a story that Mac had shared with him in the middle of the night as they flew home from Armenia, James MacGyver had developed feelings for Ellen after she'd scolded him, slapped him and corrected his chemistry.)

The SWAT team were now staring at Mac as he (obliviously) braided gauze bandages into a rope. Jack just slapped the leader on the back with a grin.

'You get used to him.'

At that moment, Mac turned to his phone (Riley was on the line, updating them with any bits of intel they scrounged up as they found it).

'Riles, is there a body shop in that industrial park?'

They heard her fingernails clacking on her keyboard for a couple of seconds, before she responded.

'Yeah, five doors down from the target warehouse.'

Mac nodded in satisfaction.

'Great.'

He returned to braiding gauze, muttering something under his breath about the average volume of a liquid nitrous oxide canister, the real gas equation and the estimated volume of the warehouse.

The SWAT team leader raised an eyebrow at Jack, who just shrugged.

'Kinda, anyway.'

HAND OF JUSTICE WAREHOUSE

NORFOLK

VIRGINIA

Mac, with his coil of gauze rope over his shoulder and a canister of nitrous oxide on his back, wearing a strange-looking makeshift gas mask, found a secure grip on the warehouse's windowsill, twenty feet off the ground, and shot the two SWAT team members who were holding a sturdy metal pole and had helped him overcome the force of gravity a thumbs-up.

The two SWAT members jogged off to join Jack and the rest of their team, taking care to stay as hidden as possible, even though Riley had looped the terrorists' surveillance cameras.

Meanwhile, Mac prised open the window, and as silently as he could, slipped through it and onto the nearest rafter beam.

He edged his way along the beam, again as silently as possible, towards the middle of the cavernous space, where he could spot Gabby, her wrists bound with rope, gagged and sitting cross-legged on the floor, several men with guns and one man with a very large machete around her. There were other guards standing at the door to the warehouse, also heavily armed.

I might be terrified of heights, but little Gabby Vasquez must also be terrified right now.

I'd be terrified in her position, and I'm a twenty-eight year old former EOD tech and covert operative of the US government.

She's a pre-schooler.

And at the end of the day, terrorists killing a three-year-old girl in some twisted act of vengeance is much more terrifying than being twenty-five feet off the ground.

When he reached the spot directly over Gabby, Mac very carefully reached behind his back and grabbed the canister of nitrous oxide. He opened it gently, and slowly released the gas.

Nitrous oxide is also known as laughing gas.

You know, the stuff they sometimes give you at the dentist to make you all calm and light and sleepy?

Handily, it's fast-acting and commonly used in combustion engines to boost power.

He watched in satisfaction as the gas took hold on the terrorists, causing them to slacken their grips on their weapons and grow visibly woozy, uncoiling the rope from his torso and tying it securely to the rafters as he did so.

Then, Mac raised his hand to his earpiece and tapped in a pre-arranged pattern, before dropping the end of the rope down.

(Several of the terrorists had clearly recognized what was going on, looking up at him as the rope dropped down, but the gas had had too much of an effect on them for them to act on it properly, thankfully. They staggered a little towards the rope, but managed little else.)

Then, as the first flash-bang grenade was tossed through a window, Mac climbed down the rope as fast as he could, letting go and dropping the last six feet (despite Beth's packing skills, there hadn't been quite enough gauze), scooping up Gabby (who being smaller than the terrorists, was very, very woozy) and tucking her close to his body, then running for cover as Jack and the SWAT team breached the warehouse door.

Once he'd reached the relative safety of cover (a stack of boxes on pallets; the warehouse was short on decent cover), Mac set down Gabby as gently as he could, beginning to untie the rope around her wrists. He put the friendliest smile on his face that he could muster, and gave a little wave.

(It was awkward, but kids didn't usually care.)

'Hi, Gabby. I'm Mac, and your grandfather sent me and my friends to rescue you.' She blinked up at him, still woozy, her eyes very wide and still full of tears. There were clear tear stains down her cheeks, and he took a moment to rub her wrists gently to try and restore the circulation through them when he finished untying the rope. Then, Mac reached up and touched the gag in her mouth. 'I'm going to take this off, but I need you to be really brave and be really quiet, okay?'

Gabby nodded, and he forced himself to smile a little wider, and undid the gag and pulled it from her mouth as gently as possible.

She reached out for him as soon as he was done, burying her head in his chest, and Mac picked her up again, rubbing her back soothingly.

He tensed as he heard a set of footsteps, quite distinct from the gunshots and flash-bangs that were echoing out on the other side of the warehouse.

They weren't Jack's. They weren't the distinct sound of jack-booted SWAT commandos either.

That left only one conclusion.

Despite their best efforts, one of the terrorists had managed to follow Mac as he took Gabby as far as possible from the fight.

Keeping his steps as light as possible and holding the little girl securely, Mac hurried away, darting towards the next stack of boxes on pallets, searching through his mental picture of the warehouse.

There were no good hiding spots that he could access; getting back up to the rafters with Gabby was something too difficult and too risky to attempt.

Cover options were poor at best.

He couldn't fight off a guy with an assault rifle while adequately protecting her either; one shot would be all it took, and he knew the terrorist tracking him was more likely to go for her than him.

Mac pursed his lips.

There was a ground-floor window on the end of the warehouse opposite the front door…

He'd have to go across fifty feet of open ground to get there, and then he'd have to get it open, but if he could…

Yeah, that was his best option.

He tucked Gabby closer to himself, shielding her with his body as best as he could, and whispered into her ear.

'Keep your eyes closed as tight as you can, okay?'

She nodded into his chest, and Mac darted over to the last stack of boxes before the stretch of open ground between him and the window.

The footsteps were definitely getting closer, but were thankfully behind him, not between him and the window.

He took a deep breath.

He ran.

He was only twenty feet from the door when two gunshots rang out in rapid succession. Instinctively, Mac flinched, hunching protectively around Gabby as he kept running.

'Yippee kay yay, mother…oh, sorry, kid.'

Mac smiled, slowing as Jack appeared in his field of vision. He turned to find a very dead terrorist with his head and shoulders sticking out from behind a stack of boxes. The gunshots had died down, too, and on the other side of the warehouse, the SWAT team had started cuffing the surviving terrorists. One of the SWAT team members obligingly dragged the dead man further back behind cover when Jack gestured to Gabby, who still had her face buried in Mac's chest. In fact, she was clinging very tightly to him, one hand fisted in his shirt, one clutching the unzipped edge of his leather jacket. Mac rubbed her back again soothingly, then shifted her weight so that the two of them were more comfortable. Gabby raised her head for a moment, her eyes still screwed tightly shut, before burying her face back in the crook of Mac's neck.

'You can open your eyes now, Gabby. You're safe, there's nothing to be scared of anymore, I promise.'

Gabby did open her eyes at Mac's words, and looked up for a moment, her eyes very wide, before burying her face in his shoulder again.

He felt hot tears spill out onto his shirt, and kept rubbing her back. The poor little girl had had a terrible ordeal.

Jack watched the interaction, something fond and proud in his eyes, before speaking gently, soothingly.

'It's okay, kiddo, you're in safe hands now…'

BETHESDA NAVAL HOSPITAL

MARYLAND

Mac got out of the SWAT van, Gabby still wrapped around him like a limpet.

He'd managed to coax her into eating some pretzels and M&Ms he'd picked out of the trail mix from the med-kit, but she'd refused to let go of him the entire trip over.

Secretary Vasquez, a younger man who bore a startling resemblance to him, and a woman who looked an awful lot like Gabby were waiting for them, and immediately, Gabby's mother rushed over, her husband in tow, followed by Gabby's grandfather.

'Mama!'

Gabby finally let go of Mac, and let herself be transferred over to her mother, who burst into tears as she held her baby to her.

Gabby's father just turned to Mac, tears in his own eyes, and held out a hand to him.

'Thank you, thank you so, so much…'

'Just doing my job.'

Gabby's grandfather (it was hard to think of him as SecDef when he was looking a little teary-eyed too) reached out to shake Mac's hand as well.

'You went above and beyond.' He smiled wryly. 'I owe you two, MacGyver.'

An hour later, Mac and Jack stood outside Gabby's hospital room, Mac's left hand lightly bandaged. On the other side of the glass, the little girl was lying in a hospital bed, sedated. The doctors said that the sedation might take her memories of the last twenty-four hours, which was probably a good thing. Her mother and father sat on either side of her bed, each holding one of her hands, her mother stroking her hair gently. Secretary Vasquez sat in a chair at the foot of her bed, lost in thought.

Jack reached out and put an arm around the younger man's shoulders.

'You did good today, son. Real good.'

His voice was a little rough with emotion.

Mac gave a little smile, and put his own arm around Jack's shoulders.

'Thanks, Jack.'

I am terrible with rules.

I've been breaking them my whole life, as my grandfather, Mr Ericson, Coach Wilson, Mission City Police and the local Boy Scout troop leaders can all tell you.

He looked into Gabby Vasquez's hospital room.

And when the reason to break them is this…I will always keep breaking them.

No matter the consequences.

MACGYVER'S RESIDENCE

LA

The next day, Mac walked into his house, followed by Bozer, both of them more exhausted than they should have been.

The two of them, plus Riley, Jack and Jill, had been given extra administrative duties (read: more paperwork) as punishment for their insubordination.

None of them had been court-martialled.

It'd been barely even a slap on the wrist.

Mac wasn't quite sure what to read into that.

(Well, more accurately, he did know what to read into that – he knew SecDef didn't have much authority over the Phoenix, but he very well knew who was in charge – but he didn't know what to think about it.)

His phone chimed, with a second unanswered message.

He ignored it.

Bozer yawned, and stumbled over to the fridge. He opened it and inspected the contents.

'Bro, whaddya say we just UberEats something?'

Mac nodded absent-mindedly, slumping down on the couch and grabbing a paperclip from the bowl that lived on the coffee table, making an annoyed sound as it caught on his bandage.

'Yeah, sure, Boze, whatever you want.'

His mind was definitely elsewhere, his voice flat and distracted.

Internally, Bozer sighed worriedly.

As they ate quesadillas from their favourite Mexican place on the couch (or rather, Bozer ate his quesadillas while Mac built an improbably-tall quesadilla tower on his plate, occasionally taking a nibble), Bozer sighed worriedly out-loud and texted a select handful of numbers.

Mac was so distracted he didn't even notice.

The next morning, a bleary-eyed Bozer padded out of his bedroom, still in his PJs, to find his BFF fully dressed for the day, hair damp from having had a shower, with a plate of very fancy breakfast (there were home-made waffles topped with fruit compote containing fruits Bozer knew they did not have when he went to sleep last night and a tri-fold omelette containing Swiss Brown mushrooms, which they'd also had none of as far as Bozer had known) under a heat lamp (which he hadn't known they'd owned) on the counter.

'Morning, Boze. I made you breakfast.' Mac held out a mug of coffee. 'And coffee.'

Bozer took the cup gratefully and had a sip.

'Thanks, bro.' Then, he pointed very firmly at his best friend/roomie/landlord. 'Did you eat breakfast?'

'Yeah, I had something a couple of hours ago, when I got back from my run.'

Oh, that was not a good sign at all. It was only 8 AM.

'Mac, bro, did you sleep last night?' Mac nodded, and Bozer sighed and re-phrased his question. 'Did you sleep more than five hours?'

'Uh…yeah, of course.'

Mac was a terrible liar.

Bozer sighed again, then did his best to channel Matty and Beth, pointing at the blonde very firmly and sternly.

'If you keep doing this, man, I'm going to have to tattle on you to Beth. And I know you won't like that. She might insist on coming over and making sure you eat and sleep and…' Realization dawned on Bozer's face. 'Actually, you probably would like that…'

Mac didn't roll his eyes exasperatedly or protest. His ears didn't even turn red.

Instead, he kept staring at his phone, probably not really listening to Bozer in the slightest.

Bozer sighed again and pulled out his own phone.

Hey, Riley? We might need to change our plans.

They had the day off. They'd planned on going out to this cool new arcade, then grabbing brunch at this hot new brunch spot that one of Bozer's friends from his days at Killer Burgers, a fellow former line cook, had just opened.

Riley replied almost immediately.

Mac?

Bozer typed out a response.

Yeah. Can you come over a little earlier?

Mac's phone chimed again, and he picked it up, saw who the text was from, and rolled his eyes.

Angus, I think we should talk. Lunch at the diner at 1?

His father had sent him three unanswered texts in the last thirty-six hours.

He supposed he should be grateful for the fact that his dad now initiated communication. It no longer felt like he was the only one trying.

But he was in no mood to talk to him.

Especially not when there'd seemed something deliberate or designed about the previous two messages.

The first one had been a photo of his mom that his dad had apparently just found. The second was a truly fascinating article from Mac's favourite engineering journal (which also happened to be his dad's favourite).

There were precisely two things the MacGyvers could talk comfortably about, without coming across landmines, like a father and son with a healthy, functional relationship.

Ellen MacGyver and science.

He tossed his phone back on the coffee table, just as the front door opened and Riley stepped inside. In the kitchen, Bozer smiled at her as he grabbed the ingredients for his super-special, top-secret-recipe hot chocolate.

Ten minutes later, Riley and Bozer, the latter carrying three mugs of hot chocolate, sat down on the couch on either side of Mac. Bozer passed him a mug of hot chocolate.

Mac sighed internally (he knew an intervention when he saw one), but took a sip of hot chocolate anyway.

(They were family. True family. And they always meant well, and they were always there for him and to help him.)

'Mac, bro…you know, with that whole thing with your dad and all…maybe there's more to the story? You know how he is, with his whole obsessed-with-the-job thing, and he's Oversight, so lots of secrets, and maybe Oversight has Oversight…'

Mac took another sip of his hot chocolate and nodded.

'I know, Boze. I know.' Those were all facts he was well aware of. He knew even Oversight's hands were tied, like Matty's had been, when she couldn't just tell him that Oversight was his father. He knew, objectively, that he wouldn't be reacting like this if Oversight was someone else. 'It's just…he's my dad. The guy I looked up to, idolized and wanted to be when I was a kid.'

His voice was soft, quiet. Confessional.

(Mac wasn't sure how many people he'd admit that out-loud and explicitly to. It was easier to Bozer, since Bozer had been there when he was still around and in the aftermath of him leaving, and Riley, given her own situation with her dad.)

Riley spoke up, her voice gentle.

'You expect better of him?'

Mac nodded.

(Besides, he wasn't exactly happy that he'd looked up to a guy who'd advocate – even just for appearances' sake, for checking a box, really – not rescuing a three-year-old girl from terrorists.)

(There were hills worth dying on. Things worth sacrificing everything for.)

Riley nodded, before speaking after a moment of silence.

'I don't expect my dad to ever completely change. He's always going to waste too much money gambling, and part of me is always waiting for the other shoe to drop, and him calling me to bail him out after his latest con, but…' She paused. 'I couldn't let the chance go by. Maybe he has changed enough, maybe he hasn't, but…I'd regret it forever if I let the chance for us to build a real relationship go past.'

Mac was silent in contemplation for a moment, before giving a little nod.

He'd regret it forever too, if he just gave up on rebuilding a relationship with his father.

Still, he wished it wasn't quite so complicated, so difficult, so full of landmines…

A little voice in his head that sounded like his grandfather snorted, and reminded him that nothing worth having comes easy, bud.

Mac managed a little smile, and reached out to give Bozer a side-hug, then Riley, switching his hot chocolate from hand to hand to manage it.

'Thanks, guys.'

'Anytime, Mac.'

'We're always here for you, bro.'

There was a long, comfortable silence in the living room as the three of them finished their hot chocolate. When they were done, Bozer nudged his BFF with his elbow.

'So, me and Ri are gonna head to this cool new arcade, and then we're gonna stuff our faces at my buddy Patrick's new place. You wanna come?'

Mac considered for a moment, before shaking his head.

'No, I'll pass, Boze. You guys have fun.'

Twenty minutes later, Bozer and Riley had headed out, and Mac was alone in his house, sitting at his desk, half-heartedly rearranging his prism collection.

He turned a little to stare at one of his bookshelves, and found his eyes caught by the old copy of The Wizard of Oz his dad had given him for Christmas.

He got up, picked it up, sat down on his bed, and opened it to the title page, read that inscription in his father's hand again.

For my Good Witch. With love, your Tinman.

He thumbed through the book.

Something caught his eye.

A small section, a couple of lines, faintly underlined in pencil.

'You people with hearts', he said once, 'have something to guide you, and need never do wrong; but I have no heart, and so, I must be very careful.'

Mac pulled his phone out of his pocket, and stared at the three texts from his dad again.

He did have to eat.

(Mother-henning Bozer would recruit Jack to helicopter-parent, and they'd tattle to Beth – who would probably notice if he didn't eat properly for several days anyway – and he really wanted to stay on her good side.)

(Besides, he did know that not eating properly for days on end was really bad for you.)

(And he was starting to feel peckish for the first time since he'd gotten that call from SecDef.)

And he didn't feel much like cooking, and Bozer was out…and his grandfather always said (as did every guide to relationships ever written in the modern era) that communication was key…

But before he could type out a response to his dad, an affirmative to lunch, another text came through.

Sorry, Angus. I need a rain-check on that lunch. Something's come up. I'll contact you when I get back.

He sighed and tossed his phone down none-too-gently on his bed.

It was that new obsession of his dad's, the one that he didn't need to know about, again.

Screen down on his bed, his phone chimed again, and Mac made a noise of extreme annoyance, and picked it up, not wanting to hear what half-cocked excuse his dad had for him this time.

But it wasn't from his dad.

It was from Beth.

Hey, Mac. Hope you're also enjoying your day off! I just wanted to let you know – this appliances shop near my place is closing down, and they have ridiculous markdowns. Maybe you can get a great bargain or two? I'd love to see recreations of your pancake-making toaster or slow-cooker foot spa, *hint, hint* :P

That was followed by an address.

He smiled, soft and slow, then, after a long moment, grabbed his leather jacket from where he'd flung it over his desk chair and put it on, grabbing his wallet, keys and some paperclips, then pocketing his phone.

There was a reason why the term retail therapy existed, after all.

Nothing like a brand-new, half-price-or-less toaster to cheer you up.

AN: Any guesses as to what James is up to? And yeah, the MacGyvers have a really complicated relationship, still. I know it seems like they've gone a little backwards, but just trust me? Things will become a little clearer next week, I think! I firmly maintain that the team would go rogue to save a three year old girl from terrorists, no matter the consequences, and that Matty would cover for them as best as she could, and that James would too, even if he has to be Oversight as well. I added in the stuff about the events of 2.11, Bullet + Pen, because it hit me the other day that James refused to go in there and order his own son's release and instead let him be charged with domestic terrorism. Given that he clearly does love Mac (even if he has skewed priorities and is really bad at showing it), I suspect that could not have been easy for him and must have had a reason behind it, and wanted to hint at that with his and Matty's little interaction.

In other news – I have now finished my presentation, my thesis and my oral defence, which means that I have completed my Honours year! Not all of my results are out yet, but I'm reliably assured that I will pass and graduate in a fancy (and boring) ceremony in a month! I've now got nearly three months off (at least) before I commence my PhD, so will definitely work on finishing this story for you guys ASAP.

There will be an episode tag in Detours for this ep, which will be the first one that is set before the events of the ep! Here's the summary:

Belonging, tag to 3.18, SecDef to Grandpa. 'His name is Ralph, and he…he's like me.' Valerie makes a new friend (or more), and Beth tries to stop Mac from going all daddy-on-the-porch-with-a-death-ray on the boy. Or, how Mac wound up in possession of some of Beth's bobby pins.

And here's the press release for the next episode:

3.19, Past to Future. James shows up on Mac's doorstep, having tracked down the man who ordered the hit on Ellen. Is this a quest for justice, or for vengeance? And how does it end with Mac, Jack and James showing up on Beth's doorstep in the middle of the night?

Thoughts on 3.06, Murdoc + MacGyver + Murdoc: Oh, God…so many things. So many feels. Poor, poor Cassian and poor, poor Nasha, honestly. Cassian just happened to be born to a pair of psychopaths, and Nasha just fell in love with the lovely young man who moved to her village, and look where they've wound up…It is always fun to see Murdoc and Mac interact, and throwing Amber into the mix made it really interesting. (Mac playing marriage counsellor to psychopaths was the kind of surreal humour that is so very MacGyver.) Murdoc giving Cassian up, and exchanging his freedom for Cassian's safety was also a lovely touch – I like them giving Murdoc more depth, giving him a glimmer of humanity, and Cassian is such a sweetheart…plus it does give the Mac/Murdoc relationship a really interesting dynamic. They've got a twisted gentlemen's agreement going on…

And finally – Mac threatened to kill Murdoc! (That sounds bad…) I pretty much knew it was going to happen in this ep, but seriously, he finally reached that breaking point. It was always going to be the next logical step; Mac is only ever angry at two people – his dad and Murdoc.

I am also glad that they did not kill off Nasha, nor have Mac break up with her right away, but I am completely convinced that that is going to happen. Murdoc saying that it's dangerous to date Mac and the look on Mac's face when he hugged her sealed it…plus his whole speech about minimising the risk (to Cassian) with Murdoc. He's smart enough to know that breaking up with Nasha won't ensure her safety (there are unrelated dangers for her, and he's never going to be able to stop caring about her, and will probably always love her in a way, so she still might be used as leverage), but he also has to know that the target on her back becomes much smaller if he cuts himself out of her life, especially as time passes. However, the logical storyline to follow will be that Mac breaks up with Nasha and swears off (romantic) love for life (he would do it, because Mac has a martyr/self-sacrifice complex). Cue emotional and angsty conversations with Jack and Bozer trying to set him up with women/sign him up for online dating again…seriously, writers of MacGyver, will Mac ever be allowed to be happy?