A/N I ended up finishing the polish on this chapter a bit ahead of schedule, so I figured I'd share it. :-) I hope you all enjoy it! :-D Special thanks to Gib and Ridley C. James for their wonderful input and ideas, inspiring me even further with this story! Also got an idea from Poxelda which will appear in a later chapter - Thanks, Poxelda! You will be given special credit for that line once the chapter is posted... don't want to spoil any of the fun to come! :-D *wink*

CHAPTER FIVE

MacGyver and Jack were in the car, headed out to the address Riley had given them for Mac's father. Even at this early morning hour, the sun was scorching hot—reflecting off the hood of the car, the buildings on either side, even the pavement surrounding them.

Both men were still feeling the effects of the night before, especially Mac, and were incredibly thankful for their sunglasses. They were also slightly envious of Sparky currently sitting back in the air-conditioned hotel room because Bozer would never forgive them if the robot's wiring melted into copper welded soup in the Las Vegas heat.

The text from Matilda Webber continued to weigh on both their minds as Jack navigated the GTO along the busy streets, traffic proving that even folks living in the 'Entertainment Capital of the World' had to commute to work every morning.

"Matty never takes a leave of absence," Jack said. "She took a three-day vacation once when we were both at Langley, but never a leave of absence. I hope this isn't a sign that she's going to be replaced. I just got her trained to the point where I can work with her again," he added with a wry grin.

"Ohh," Mac teased, "it was Matty who got trained. See, I thought it was the other way around."

There was a tension in their laughter as they tried to hide their concern for their new boss, but Jack got the sense Mac was hiding something else. "Okay, out with it."

"Out with what?"

"Whatever's got you feelin' guilty all of a sudden."

"I'm not—" Mac started, then thought better of it. Jack had a right to know. "I just can't help but think that maybe a change in leadership might not be a bad thing."

"What? You're the one who's been pro-Matty from the day she got here! You even got me to clear the air with her after the Colton job. What gives, brother?"

MacGyver hesitated, rethinking the wisdom of telling Jack about the debrief a month earlier. But the possible ramifications of what Matty was suggesting—or threatening, Mac wasn't entirely sure which was the more accurate term—was something he and Jack both had to prepare for. "Remember my evaluation when she first started with Phoenix?"

"The one where she told you if your improv led to someone getting hurt, you'd have to drop it from your vocabulary?" Jack asked, recalling all too well his irritation when Mac first told him about that particular conversation. He'd wanted to set Matty straight right off the bat, but Mac had convinced him to just let it go, ironically wanting to 'play it by ear'.

Although, Jack was pretty sure the kid was just trying to protect him from Matty's wrath, he'd gone along with the idea to make his young friend happy. For the time being, anyway.

"Yeah," MacGyver continued haltingly. "Well… Matty's thinking about splitting us up."

Jack suddenly slammed on the brakes! Mac braced one hand against the dashboard as he was jolted forward. The sounds of car horns erupted all around them.

"Jeeze, Jack! Are you trying to kill us?"

But Jack had gone into Bulldog-mode, with the figurative bone held firmly between his teeth. "What do you mean she's thinkin' about splitting us up?" Jack demanded. "Who told you that?"

Another motorist honked angrily at them, shaking his fist at Jack as he passed. The look Jack gave the guy in response must've been a doozy because Mac saw the driver's indignation morph into wide-eyed fear before quickly driving away.

"What happened to those multi-tasking skills you're always bragging about, Jack?"

"What?"

MacGyver motioned to the vehicles lined up behind them, others passing on either side. "Do you think we could talk about this while still moving in a forward momentum?"

"Who told you that we're being separated," Jack repeated, but he did shift gears and step on the gas, merging into the flow of traffic once again.

Mac breathed a sigh of relief, waving a brief apology to the drivers behind them.

"Mac?"

"Sorry," MacGyver said, returning his attention to the conversation at hand. "Matty told me."

"When?" The muscle in Jack's jaw pulsed rapidly.

"After the incident in Cordoba." At Jack's blank look, Mac added, "When you broke your arm?"

Jack did a double take. "Yeah, I remember the op, but why would that make her even consider…" A slack-jawed look of disbelief coloured his features as realization dawned. "Okay, first of all, that particular improvisation was my idea. Not yours. Secondly, that was a month ago! What were you thinking, not tellin' me about this?"

"I had a lot on my mind," Mac explained. "It was right before Frankie's funeral—"

"Her premature funeral," Jack corrected, not forgetting that Mac had mumbled her name in the midst of his dream the night before, too. "Incidentally, the nightmare you had last night, was that the same one that was keeping you awake back then?"

This time, it was Mac's turn to do a double take. "Incidentally?" he repeated. "Jack, that would insinuate your question has anything at all to do with the current topic of conversation. Which it doesn't."

"I beg to differ, bud, and you're avoiding the question."

Mac looked down at his phone. "Take the next right," he said flatly, happy that they'd left Sparky back at the hotel, giving him the opportunity to play the part of navigator and maybe distract Jack from the train of thought he was currently chasing.

Jack turned right onto the next street, but glanced at Mac as he did. "You know I'm gonna get it outta you."

"You can try," Mac told him stiffly, a stubborn set to his jaw. After a brief moment, though, he turned pleading blue eyes on his friend. "Just, please… not now?"

"Fair enough," Jack conceded, instantly regretting his mention of the nightmare as he pulled up in front of the house that presumably belonged to Mac's dad. "You ready for this, brother?" he asked gently.

"It's too late to turn back now."

"Never too late, Mac. Hey, why don't we go back to that Karaoke bar—"

"No!" Mac said with a bark of laughter. "Never again, Jack!"

"Awww, don't say that. You might just break my Achy Breaky Heart!"

The wry grin on Jack's face eased some of the pressure that had settled over Mac's chest; which he knew had been the whole point and he was beyond appreciative.

Mac smiled as he opened the passenger side door, but it was forced and didn't quite reach his eyes. That was all it took for Jack to make his decision. He opened his own door, getting out in time to join Mac as he crossed the street. The kid peered over at him.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I'm coming with you."

"Jack—" MacGyver began.

"I watch your back, remember?"

Mac knew he should feel indignant at the blatant overprotection, but he just couldn't manage anything less than a grateful smile. "Thanks, Jack," he said sincerely, not missing the fact that he'd been saying that a lot lately, and that each time it seemed inadequate.

"Anytime," Jack replied, clapping him on the shoulder and keeping his hand there for support until they got to the front door. He looked at Mac who seemed to be suddenly intent on imitating a statue. "You got this, dude," he said, giving the slender shoulder a quick squeeze before letting go.

As Mac reached up to ring the doorbell, he found he still needed the physical contact and shifted his position slightly so that his arm brushed against Jack's. If his friend minded the closer proximity, he didn't say anything, nor did he pull away.

They must have been seen coming up the walkway because the door opened up almost immediately, and father and son stared at each other for a long moment. Other than a few more wrinkles and a little less hair, Mac's dad looked just the way he remembered.

Jack, on the other hand, was somewhat stunned. He'd pictured James MacGyver to be tall and slim, much like his son—certainly not the barrel-chested man standing before him. That coupled with the almost black hair and dark eyes, was more than enough information to tell Jack that MacGyver had inherited more than just a kind heart and gentle spirit from his mother.

"Angus?" the man asked, tears springing to his eyes.

At first, MacGyver found himself unable to speak; a nudge in the ribs from Jack remedied that, though. "Uh, yeah. H - Hi, Dad," he stammered.

"Smooth," Jack whispered in an effort to lighten Mac's mood a bit. The heatless glare he got from the blond in response told him it worked.

At this little exchange, James MacGyver shifted his gaze to Jack. His disapproval was clear, but there was also a slight hint of surprise in his expression as if he hadn't even seen Jack for the 30 seconds they'd been on the porch. In fact, it was like, when he'd obviously been watching their approach from the window, his attention had been solely focused on Mac the entire time. Jack supposed that was a good thing. It was about time the man treated Mac like his number one priority. But something about Mr. James MacGyver still seemed... off.

"Uh, Dad, this is Jack," MacGyver said by way of introduction. "Jack, this is James MacGyver; my, uh… my dad."

Despite Jack's efforts to convince himself that MacGyver's father was on the up and up, his hackles still rose as he continued to hold eye contact with the other man.

Still, when James stepped to the side to allow them both entry into his home, Jack followed his partner through the door, offering up a forced smile of greeting to Senior, along with a quick handshake. He didn't miss the way James' eyes flicked over to Mac before he accepted the quasi-peace offering, either.

What gave the former Delta Commando pause, however, was the fact that he couldn't tell if the man's interests fell in the realm of making his son happy… or something else entirely.

A few minutes later, MacGyver and Jack were sitting on a comfortable sofa; Mac's father sat in an armchair across from them. Jack's gaze wandered about the room as Mac and his dad talked. There wasn't a whole lot of decor, which was a little weird because Riley said the man had moved into the house before Christmas—usually, eight or nine months would be plenty of time to collect a few knick-knacks. Then again, James could simply be a stereotypical bachelor, choosing to go the way of the minimalist when it came to his interior design options.

One item on the mantel did catch Jack's eye, however. He stood up to get a better look at a photo of James and a boy who could only be a young Mac, standing next to a large lake. Mac was holding a trout in his arms. The fish was almost as long as he was tall. James had a mile-wide grin on his face, his hand resting on the slope of the boy's shoulder and neck; little Mac appeared to be almost tearing up, the smile on his face as forced as the one Jack had seen when he was getting out of the car to meet his father for the first time in over a decade.

"When was this taken?" Jack asked, holding up the photo to show the father and son who were both stumbling over what to say to each other.

MacGyver Sr. got up to join him, taking the photo frame out of Jack's hands with a slight scowl. Jack sat down again, giving Mac a shrug that said 'Sorry, kid. Just tryin' to make nice.' One side of Mac's mouth turned up in a fond smile for Jack, then his curious gaze moved to his father whose own expression had become one of melancholy. "Remember this, Angus? You were, what? Around eight or nine?"

"Actually," Mac said, "that was taken during the fishing trip you treated me to for my eleventh birthday. Almost a year to the day before you dropped me off on Harry's doorstep and never came back," he added. He wasn't sure why he brought up the topic of his dad leaving him with his grandfather on the pretense of going on a business trip; it certainly hadn't been the plan, at least not this soon in the conversation. But he couldn't take it back now.

"Right," James said, clearing his throat awkwardly and placing the photo back on the frame. "So, how did you even find me?" he asked, retaking his seat across from them.

"It wasn't easy," Mac admitted.

"But, luckily, we got ourselves a good friend who can find almost anyone with a few clicks of a mouse," Jack explained.

The other man smiled politely but it was the most insincere smile Jack had ever seen. Mac obviously got his friendly and honest demeanour from his mother, too. The former Delta Commando was trying really hard to like MacGyver Sr. for Mac's sake, but the guy sure wasn't makin' it easy. He glanced over at Mac, trying to see if the kid was getting the same vibe from his dad as Jack was but the blond's expression was inscrutable, even to Jack.

"Do you think we could talk alone, Angus?" James suddenly asked, almost giving Jack a severe case of whiplash as his attention snapped back to him.

Before Mac could respond, Jack said, "He goes by 'MacGyver'; and if you think I'm goin' anywhere, you got another think comin'!"

James rose to his feet. Jack did, too. Both men were now toe-to-toe. Challenge accepted, Jack thought defiantly.

Amazed at the sudden turn of events, Mac jumped to his feet. He placed himself between the two men, facing Jack. "Jack — " he began, beseechingly, one hand splayed out on the other man's chest.

"What? No way," Jack insisted. "I ain't leavin' you alone with him."

"I'm his father," James protested indignantly. "I would never hurt Angus."

"Oh, yeah," Jack countered, "you certainly proved that when you left him 15 years ago, didn't you!?"

"I didn't have a choice!"

"We always have a choice; you just chose yourself over your son! Well, let me tell you, that was your loss, not his!"

Mac had to use all his strength to prevent the two men from coming to blows. He placed his shoulder against Jack's sternum, wrapping his arms around his torso as he propelled him backwards into the entryway. With James now an entire room away from him, Jack calmed somewhat but the fire in his eyes remained. Mac couldn't help but be touched by his partner's loyalty and dedication to him, and he hated that it was probably about to seem like he was taking his father's side over Jack's. "I won't be long," he told Jack softly. "I'll be fine," he promised, knowing that was what his friend really needed to hear.

Jack's gaze moved from Mac to his dad and back again. "Are you sure?"

"Oh, for cryin' out loud," James said impatiently. "He's a grown man! He told you what he wants— "

"No one asked you, pal!" Jack told him between clenched teeth.

Placing one hand against Jack's chest again, Mac turned to his father. "I got this," he said firmly, while still trying to show the man some respect. He was still his father, after all. Returning his attention to Jack, Mac took him by the arm and led him over to the door. "I need to do this, Jack. Please."

"All right," Jack conceded, albeit hesitantly. Before he left, however, he leaned toward Mac and whispered, "I don't like this guy, Mac. Something doesn't feel right."

"Are your Spidey-senses tingling?" Mac asked, smirking.

"I'm being serious, bud."

"I know," Mac said, realizing his father wasn't the only one he should be respecting—and only one of them had actually earned that respect a thousand times over. "You're worried about me; I get it. And I appreciate it. But this is something I need to face on my own," he added, allowing Jack to see the sincerity in his gaze.

"I'll be right outside."

"Thank you," Mac whispered, sensing his father had joined them in the foyer and not wanting him to be privy to his and Jack's rapport; it suddenly seemed… sacred, somehow. Like, if his dad knew about it, witnessed it firsthand, Mac's relationship with Jack might disappear altogether. It was silly and superstitious, but that didn't make it any less true in Mac's heart. He watched with more than a little regret as Jack sauntered down the walkway, clearly in no rush to leave Mac on his own, and wondered briefly if he'd made the right decision as the tightness slowly returned to his chest.

"Why don't we talk in the kitchen," his father asked from behind him.

"Yeah, sure," Mac agreed after a moment, forcing himself to look away from his friend's retreating back. He turned and followed James down a long hall, which terminated in a generously sized kitchen. On a round table next to the entrance was a glass of milk and a plateful of the one-bite brownies Mac and his mom used to indulge in before she got sick. "I love these," he said, picking two up and popping one into his mouth.

"I know," his father admitted. "But, it's too early for sweets, isn't it? I'll make you some breakfast," he said, turning toward the pantry and retrieving a box of pancake mix. "Do you still like pancakes?"

"I don't think we'll be here long enough for a full meal," Mac told him, picking up another brownie. He tried to dismiss the sudden thought that his dad was trying a little too hard — almost like he was trying to erase their 15 years apart.

"Don't be silly," James said, dismissively. "What's your rush? Commando-boy out there won't melt while you and I eat some breakfast" James said. "I'll even make some of that sweet tea you and your mom used to love. How are you liking the brownies?"

"Mom used to have such a hard time finding these in the stores," Mac remembered wistfully, turning the second brownie over in his hand as his mind drifted back to a much happier time. He popped the sweet, chocolatey goodness into his mouth and followed it up with a gulp of the ice cold milk. The sugar of the brownies seemed to be helping with his hangover.

"They're no easier to find around here, let me tell you," James laughed.

MacGyver set the glass of milk back onto the table and took a bite of a third brownie. As he chewed, he canted his head to the side and watched his father get a box of tea bags out of the cupboard. Something wasn't right… "Wait. You've always hated these brownies; you can't stand pancakes, and you always complained the sweet tea was too sweet. Why did you buy all this stuff?" He watched his father freeze mid-movement and all the pieces began to fall into place. "You knew I was coming," he surmised, thoughtfully. "But how—" Mac's eyes widened as the truth suddenly became painfully clear.

"I'm sorry, Angus," James said, turning around to face him and boldly meeting his gaze. "He doesn't want you. He just wants Dalton."

Mac threw the third, half-eaten brownie to the floor and turned to leave the kitchen. James grabbed him by the arm and tried to hold him back, but MacGyver wrenched free of his grip and raced for the front door. He could see Jack slowly crossing the street. "Jack!" he yelled.

At the sound of Mac's voice, Jack turned back to the house but, even as MacGyver threw the storm door open, a white panel van pulled to a stop between Jack and the GTO. A man Mac didn't recognize opened the side door of the van and hopped out.

"Jack!" MacGyver yelled again, running toward the street. "Behind you!"

But Jack was already turning toward the vehicle, hand on his weapon and ready to draw. The man grabbed him from behind and stuck a needle in his neck! Jack suddenly went rigid, then dropped his gun to the pavement and collapsed into the man's arms. A second later, his limp form was tossed into the van. His assailant jumped in after him, grabbed Jack's cell phone from his pocket and tossed it onto the ground to join the Glock. The door was slammed shut with an ominous clatter & clank just as Mac reached it. He slammed into the side of the van and grabbed for the handle to slide the door open again, but it was locked!

His gaze moved to the side mirror on the driver's side of the van. He tried to identify the driver but whoever it was had the presence of mind to pull the ball cap he was wearing down low on his head.

The van lurched forward, yanking itself out of Mac's grip. "No!" he hollered, lunging for the driver through the open window; pounding on the door, instead, as the van moved out of his reach and sped away from him. Mac chased after it on foot; Jack had the keys to the GTO and it would take too many precious seconds for Mac to hotwire it.

He quickly memorized the license plate number as the distance between him and the van steadily increased. Mac skidded to a stop… and so did his heart. He tried to catch his breath but filling his lungs with oxygen seemed too insurmountable a task at the moment.

He bent over, placing his hands on his knees, gasping desperately for air. He tried to quell the dizziness that he could feel creeping up on him—though, whether it was due to the dehydration and headache caused by his little alcohol splurge the night before, or his childhood panic attacks making a sudden reappearance, Mac couldn't be sure.

James watched his son run after the van. Just like when he had seen Angus approach the house less than an hour earlier, his perspective alternated between the 12-year-old boy he remembered and the 27-year-old man he had become. He supposed such a flashback was a normal occurrence for a man who hadn't seen his boy in 15 years, but the jolt he'd felt when noticing Jack at Angus' side on his porch continued to concern him. Even though the plan had always included Dalton showing up as well, he hadn't even noticed the man before that moment.

He made a mental note to discuss all of that with his therapist, but didn't have time to think about it any further right then because when he saw Mac slide to a halt and bend forward with his hands on his knees, the devastation at the loss of his friend was clear, both in boy and man. James ached to go to him, to offer some form of consolation, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He'd been raised to keep his emotions under a tight rein, and those instincts ran deep. Ellen had been the only person to find a way to slip past those well-honed defenses, but after she died...

Once steady on his feet, and certain he could speak again, Mac pulled out his cell phone and called Riley. She answered on the second ring.

"Hey, Mac! How's Vegas treating—?"

"Jack's been kidnapped!" MacGyver blurted, abandoning all small talk.

"What? How… why?"

"I don't know that yet," he admitted, glancing back at his father's house. James was standing just inside the door, arms crossed over his broad chest. He stared out at his son, expression ambiguous.

"Well, who took him?"

"I don't know that either!" Mac snapped. "They just drugged him with something and tossed him into the back of a white panel van!"

There was a brief moment of silence at the other end of the line.

"I'm sorry, Riley," Mac said sincerely. "I'm just…"

"It's okay," she told him. "I get it."

And, just like that, they were fine. Mac wished he knew what he'd done to deserve such understanding friends.

"Okay," Riley began, voice shaking with the effort to keep her own emotions in check. "Did you get a plate?"

"Yeah," Mac said. He rattled off the license plate number as he made his way back to the GTO.

"I'll run the plate and follow the GPS on Jack's phone," the computer hacker promised.

Mac looked down at the gun and cell phone on the pavement at his feet. "Don't bother with GPS," he told her, picking up both items. "They tossed his cell phone before they took him," he explained as he slipped the phone into his pocket and tucked the gun beneath his waistband at the small of his back. The weapon felt foreign there; wrong. But it was Jack's and he'd want it back, so MacGyver was determined to keep it safe for him until he could get his partner back safe and sound. Besides, the weight of it also made Mac feel like Jack was still watching his back.

"Anything else?" Riley inquired. "Any signs or logos on the van?"

"No—wait, yes!" MacGyver replayed the scene slowly in his head. In his mind's eye, he could see the ball cap again. "The driver was wearing a hat, the logo on the front was a knight's mask and shield. Kind of like the mask Russell Crowe wore in Gladiator." There was a soft gasp on the other end of the line. "Riley? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Riley assured him. "I'm, uh, I'm good. Do you really think the hat could be a clue?"

"I don't know. But we don't have much else to go on."

"Good point," the computer hacker conceded. Then: "We'll find him, Mac."

"We have to," MacGyver agreed. Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, he turned to see his father was now standing on the lawn… watching him.

"Hey, Riley? I gotta go," Mac said into the phone. "Call me when you have something, okay?" He disconnected the call without waiting for her response and stalked toward his father.

The indisputable spark of fury in his son's eyes as he crossed the yard surprised James and had him raising his hands in supplication. "Angus, I—" the rest of his statement was lost in the right hook that caught him in the jaw and had him stumbling back a few steps!

Mac shook the pain out of his hand—but, man, did that feel good!

"They were going to take my house," James protested, rubbing ruefully at his jaw as he began his well-practiced explanation.

"Oh, you mean the house you won!?" Mac demanded, blinking back another wave of dizziness. It had been years since he'd had a panic attack, but somehow he still knew this vertigo felt… different. "Let me guess, you cheated in some high stakes game and now they're coming after you, right?" He paused for a moment, bringing one hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, and suddenly remembered something his father had said earlier. "Wait. You said 'he' before; not 'they'. You know who did this? Who, Dad? Who took Jack?"

James drew himself up to full height again. He would not be spoken to like this! After all, if a man doesn't have the respect of his own son, then what kind of man was he? "If I tell you that, he'll kill us both," he declared haughtily.

"But you're okay with this guy killing—" Mac stumbled forward a step. What was happening? "You're okay with… with him… killing Jack… in… instead?" MacGyver tried really hard to sound angry but his energy was failing fast.

James stepped forward, bracing a hand on either of Angus' shoulders. Once again, the 27-year-old man morphed into the 12-year-old boy of yesteryear.

Mac made a valiant attempt to pull away from the hold, only to stumble again, this time falling straight into his father's outstretched arms. He peered up into the ambiguous face from his past, trying desperately to remain standing. "Wha'… What'd you do?" The effort it took to say those four little words was astronomical. He watched as his father glanced to the left, then to the right.

Certain that no one was watching, James leaned down and scooped MacGyver up into his arms. "I'm sorry, son," he said simply, carrying Mac up the porch steps and back into the house.

Abruptly flashing back to three years earlier when Jack had carried him from the control van to the exfil chopper in their escape from the Cairo debacle, Mac was able to mumble one single word – "J'ck…", then his head fell onto his father's shoulder as consciousness threatened to completely abandon him.

TBC