There were any number of things that made Mac not feel great this morning.

He felt bad about stiffing the O'Malleys for the room, and about stealing clothes out of their laundry, say nothing about the sheet Jack had torn to bandage the angry red gash across his chest. The couple looked to be about a hundred years old and whether he was forced by circumstances or not, he still felt guilty about it.

He didn't feel any better about the wallet he'd lifted, off the local constable, of all people. Nor was he thrilled that they'd stolen some poor bastard's fishing boat to get to Scotland. It was what he planned to do, sure, but since Phoenix wasn't backing them up, no one was stepping in right behind them to make things right, either by getting property back to its owners or compensating them for their loss.

The meal they'd bought in the town's one pub had seemed like a good idea at the time. For the truly hungover, food always seems like a good idea. Turned out that's what had Mac feeling the worst. He'd never been prone to seasickness, and the water was fairly calm this afternoon. But he found himself leaning over the stern for the third time since they'd gotten out of the small marina.

"Regretting that blood pudding, are you?" Jack asked, half in sympathy, half in slight amusement. Mac was not prone to excess when it came to alcohol or anything else, so seeing miserable, hungover Mac had a little bit of entertainment value.

"Regretting letting you talk me into meeting those women when what I wanted to do was watch soccer!" Mac growled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Jack shrugged, wincing at the pull on his chest. "Hangovers suck, pal."

"This is a lot worse than a hangover. I'd give about anything to know what the hell they dosed us with."

Jack gave a rueful shake of his head as he glanced at Mac. "I'm sure we'll find out. Losing two days like we did? No way Matty doesn't just order us to put up with getting every tox panel known to man … and a few she has to communicate with her home planet about."

"Right," Mac snorted, and Jack couldn't tell if it was with laughter or something else.

"What's so funny, bud?" he asked as they both got moving to ease the boat alongside an unoccupied dock with conveniently free mooring cables.

"Like we're gonna just tell Matty about this." He rolled his eyes.

Jack was on his feet, doing his best to tie off the boat to the nearest rope without setting his injured chest bleeding again. There was already a dark stain on the grey jumpsuit he was wearing from the wound continuing to slowly seep blood. Mac had already hopped up onto the dock and was tying off the back of the small craft.

"Mac, it's not like we can just pretend everything is fine. We lost two days, man. And we woke up naked, with no money, no papers, and no way out. I don't know about you, bud, but that has me pretty freaked out. You gonna tell me that doesn't bother you?"

"Of course it bother's me, Jack! But we can't tell the boss, who has a) been looking for an excuse to bust up our team since she got to Phoenix and b) is up to some shady bullshit when it comes to my father, that we let a couple of random women get the drop on us and lead us into God only knows what … and seriously only God knows because I don't remember … Ah, shit …" Mac sat down on the dock, holding his head.

He could hear Jack speaking to him, and after a moment or two, could feel his partner's warm hand, securely squeezing his shoulder, but he just shook his head slightly, too caught up in a memory to answer.

The music in the pub was deafening all of a sudden. Mac opened his eyes and the room swam. "Um, hey guys," he said in a voice that was a lot quieter than he wanted it to be. "I think I maybe went overboard here. I can't remember the last time I ate and …" he looked down at his plate and found he'd only consumed about half the chicken and leek pie he'd ordered. "I don't feel so hot. Hey Shersh," he addressed his companion with a slight slur. "You know the number to the local cab?"

"But yer room's just up the street, Angus."

"Yeah, I definitely can't walk that far. Jack! Hey Jack! If I get a cab, you comin'?"

Jack lifted his chin, but not his whole head off the ample bosom of his date. "Um … sure, buddy. Gimme a minute to …" His head dropped again, with a contented sigh.

"Ah, love, don't putchureself out then. I've a room upstairs. And the idea was to gettcha there anyway." She paused and brushed his hair off his forehead, looking almost worried. "Seamus! Give us a hand, won't ya?"

A trip un the stairs where he felt like his limbs weighed a thousand pounds. Each.

Falling onto cool sheets.

Someone carefully loosening his collar.

Sound of Jack moaning softly, but not in a way that said he found anything about what was happening pleasant.

"Sersh, what … what's happening …"

"I'm sorry, love. I think I'd've liked you, but he paid us an awful lot of money."

"Who paid …" He couldn't stick with the thought.

"Said his name was Murdoc. He should be here any minute. Said you'd think it was hilarious when you woke up."

Cobwebs dissolved like dew in the sun, and Mac was suddenly sitting up. "No. Please. He's a killer. You have to help us get out of here."

"Bud … Hey, buddy. You okay?" Jack was sitting next to him on the dock in the cool damp breeze now, an arm draped around his shoulders.

Mac shook his head, holding it in both hands for a moment, his mind dragging him back into that basement last fall. Chained to the chair of a killer who wanted nothing more than his pain. He pretended he wanted information, cooperation, but Mac knew, even drugged, that it had been a lie. All Murdoc wanted was his suffering. And ultimately his death.

Finally, he looked up at his partner and saw Jack's bruised and swollen face drawn into deep lines of concern. "Mac, what is it? You remember something about what happened to us?"

Mac groaned, closing his eyes for a second again before taking his hands away and looking up at Jack. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I remembered something."

Mac swallowed several times and Jack wished that in addition to the boat and a little bit of money Mac had maybe stolen a water bottle.

He asked carefully, "What'd you remember, bud?"

"We probably do need to call Matty," he said like an almost desperate admission. Jack was about to prompt him to go on, but Mac shook his head, like he actually meant to stop him.

"Mac, brother, talk to me."

"It's Murdoc."

"Well, shit."