A/N So much for me posting twice a week! lol You guys are quite persuasive with your reviews! Here is the next installment... I hope it stands up to your expectations! :-) My usual beta-readers/editors are incommunicado for the time being. This one was edited a week or so ago, but I had to make a few small changes to fit with the new scenes before and after. I did read it over myself but, as we all know, it's easy to miss stuff that way! As usual, please let me know if anything doesn't work, etc. ~Kelcor :-D

CHAPTER SEVEN

"Mac, help me!"

MacGyver spun around in a circle, seeking out the source of the plea which had an odd echo – as if two people were speaking almost simultaneously. Instinctually, he knew they were both people he loved dearly, he just couldn't figure out who. "Where are you?"

A small part of him realized he was dreaming, and that it was a dream he was quite familiar with, but he continued to play his role in the dreamscape because to not do everything he could to save his friends would surely drive him to madness.

"Over here! Help me!"

The echo bounced around him, seeming to come from two different directions. Finally, he saw something in the surrounding haze of smoke. He couldn't quite make it out but stepped towards it, anyway. Someone he cared about needed help.

A rumbling thunder sounded in the distance, getting closer by the second. He looked up but saw no dark clouds hovering above him.

"Mac, please!"

There! It came from behind him and this time, he recognized the voice. It was Frankie! He spun back in that direction, moving at a trot!

"Mac, I need your help!"

MacGyver skidded to a halt. "Jack?"

In front of Mac, the haze turned to smoke and bright yellow and orange flames licked out at him. Amidst the flame, Frankie reached one hand towards him. "Mac, help!"

Horrified, he took a step in her direction. He froze as Jack's voice again pierced his subconscious: "Mac, bud! I need you, man!"

The thunder increased in volume, seemingly directly overhead now, but still he saw no clouds. Just orange-tinged smoke; reflections of the flames colouring everything around him.

Mac spun to look behind him and almost tripped over Jack, stretched out on the ground at his feet. His eyes were closed, his arms crossed over his chest as if he were lying in a coffin… "NOOO!"

Jack's eyes snapped open and he fought at an invisible adversary, seemingly holding him in a vise-like grip. His desperate gaze found MacGyver. He shouted at Mac to help him but no voice could be heard! Mac lurched toward him! He had to get him out!

A deep rumbling beneath his feet knocked MacGyver to the ground. He looked up as a large oak tree grew impossibly fast next to him. Suddenly, the ground opened up and swallowed Jack, leaving behind no proof that he had ever been there in the first place! Mac dropped to his knees, digging frantically at the dirt with his bare hands. "JACK!"

The thunder was all around him now. It even seemed to come from within. Shaking him to his very core. Then he realized the thunder wasn't thunder at all. It was a laugh; a deep belly laugh – a laugh he would recognize until his dying day.

Frankie shrieked! Mac spun back around. The flames were devouring her now! "FRANKIE!"

He froze! Gaze snapping from Frankie to the ground that had swallowed Jack and back again. Who was he supposed to help? He couldn't save them both!

"What are you going to do now, Angus?"

Mac woke with a shout! It took longer than usual for him to get his bearings — basically because his anchor wasn't there. He looked around, eyes wild, breaths coming in quick, short bursts.

His gaze found the rearview mirror and the look in his own eyes frightened him. He hastily wiped at his tear stained cheeks, threw open the door and jumped out of the car. All around him were vast open spaces, which worked just perfectly for him under his current circumstances. He certainly didn't want any witnesses to his seemingly imminent breakdown.

In the previous dreams, the one who'd spoke to him at the end had always been Murdoc. This time, it was his father's voice that he'd heard. Sometimes the subconscious mind could be both confusing and painful!

Feeling like his heart was about to pound straight out of his chest, Mac placed his hands on his knees again, taking slow, deep breaths.

And, if he concentrated really hard, he could imagine Jack's calloused palm resting on the back of his neck.

Heart rate slowing, breaths deepening, Mac took in his surroundings again, only now realizing that the sky was darker. Dismayed, he returned to the GTO, and checked the time on his newly charged phone. It was almost nine o'clock at night—Jack had been gone for close to twelve hours now!

What also caught his attention was the dozen or so missed calls from Riley throughout the day. He slammed the steering wheel with the palm of his hand, then immediately called her back.

He explained to Riley that he was fine but left out his father's duplicitousness because, quite frankly, he was ashamed of himself for not figuring it out sooner; even more so, for not listening to Jack in the first place! All of this could have been avoided if he'd just…

Shoving his feelings of guilt down to be dealt with at another time, Mac forced himself to focus on Riley's voice.

According to the hacker, all the license plate had revealed was that the van had been stolen earlier that day from some guy named Bradley Stonehouse - which seemed to indicate taking Jack was a last-minute plan. Or, at the very least, a poorly executed one. Regardless, the van seemed to have disappeared into thin air!

Even the logo on the kidnapper's ball cap, a lead which Mac's instincts still screamed at him to pursue, had turned out to be for the Vegas Golden Knights - a hockey team born out of a small community called Paradise which was located in Clark County, adjacent to Las Vegas. Riley had done the research on her end, trying to find any other connection between the Vegas Golden Knights and Jack's kidnapping, but hadn't really come up with anything concrete.

Although the population sits at over 200,000, and most of the tourist attractions people come to Vegas to see fall within its boundaries, Paradise is relatively unknown and caught in the shadow of its more popular big sister. Even its zip codes only bring up Las Vegas mailing addresses.

Disconnecting the call with Riley, both of them feeling forlorn and more than a little desperate, Mac needed to take a moment to re-evaluate his situation and figure out his next step. Any trail leading to the white panel van would be cold by now but he needed to do something—both to locate Jack and to get his mind off his own father's involvement.

He had no appetite, and enough time had already been wasted sleeping. Okay, yeah, he'd actually been unconscious both times, which didn't really have the healing power of sleep, but the fact remained—it had been time wasted!

After over five hours of searching, he'd still turned up nothing. His eyes were grainy from peering down increasingly darkened alleyways and into shadowy parking lots. He glanced down at the gas gauge, not surprised to see the GTO was basically running on fumes—and so was he!

He continued along East Tropicana as he'd planned, but as he came up to the intersection with Koval, he saw a promise of fuel for both the car and himself. So, just before reaching the intersection, he made a quick right into the Rebel Gas Station.

When other drivers honked their horns incessantly as they passed, he realized belatedly that he'd forgotten to turn on the signal light. He shook his head ruefully; he needed sleep badly. But there was no time for such luxuries—he'd sleep once he found Jack!

Pulling to a stop in front of the gas pumps, he got out and rounded the GTO. He slipped his credit card into the payment slot for the gas pump labelled 'A' and filled the tank, then darted into the store to buy an extra-large coffee with too much sugar—doing whatever he could to force his body to stay awake.

As he stepped out of the store and hurried back to the car, flashing red and blue lights across the street caught his eye… and there it was.

Seemingly abandoned in a mostly empty parking lot across from the MGM Grand, the van was all but hidden in the shadows.

Mac pulled a Dukes of Hazzard and slid across the GTO's hood on his hip, somehow managing to only spill a few drops of coffee in the process. Leaping into the driver's seat, he placed the coffee in the cup holder usually reserved for Jack, then gunned the engine to life and raced across the street to the vacant lot.

Seeing a dark coloured SUV near the main entrance of the lot, he quickly took the next right, which took him into an alleyway that led to the parking lot's alternate entrance at the opposite end. Jumping out of the GTO, Mac peeked around the corner of a nearby building to survey his surroundings.

An officer was currently leaning against the police cruiser, his back to MacGyver. As Mac got closer, he realized the cop was losing his supper. Something he suspected did not bode well for what he was about to discover in the van. A quick internal calculation told him that he was far enough away from the officer to go unnoticed as long as the man remained… preoccupied.

Grimacing slightly at the smell of vomit wafting its way through the gentle breeze, Mac crept over to the abandoned van. All the doors stood wide open, including the sliding door through which his best friend and partner had been tossed over 12 hours earlier.

Mac felt it in his bones that this was the right van, but still confirmed his suspicion before going any farther. With his bleary eyes, and the distance separating him from the van, he couldn't read the license plate from where he was standing.

Pulling out his cell phone, he took a picture of the plate, then used his thumb and forefinger to zoom in on the photo. The letters and numbers matched the plate he'd memorized earlier and, with a final glance at the officer, MacGyver crossed the remaining expanse of pavement to look inside. Jack was clearly gone but there could still be some clues as to his whereabouts. If the police had found him before Mac's arrival, surely Jack would have told them to call his partner.

Unless, the inconceivable had happened…

As if confirming that worst-case scenario, Mac's heart plummeted and his knees became weak when he saw the small pool of a dark coloured liquid on the floor of the van. Shining the light from his phone on the pool only served to confirm his suspicions—blood. Although, it didn't seem enough blood to indicate someone had died there, the foot-wide pool still seemed to be taunting MacGyver at his failure to keep his partner safe like Jack had done for him for so many years..

Suddenly, someone rounded the corner of the van! Mac was so caught of guard, he couldn't breathe for a moment. It was Jack! His friend's lips were moving but the roaring in Mac's ears drowned out the words. Jack was alive!

"Are you okay, kid?" the voice sounded distant, echoed.

MacGyver laughed wetly with relief. But, wait, the eyes looking back at him held no recognition; even the concern was not quite right. As if the brown eyes were staring at a complete stranger.

Mac canted his head to the side, studying the man standing before him. The brown hair was short but not pulled to a peak, as was Jack's personal preference; the face was less weathered, as if 10 years had been shaved off his friend's age. Even the gaze now locked with his, carried less experience within their depths—no tortured memories of Afghanistan, or any of the other countries Jack had fought in either as a soldier or during his time as a spy.

The final piece to the puzzle was the Kevlar vest—Jack hadn't been wearing that when he'd been taken. Plus, the vests given to them by Phoenix—or even DXS or the CIA—never had names on them, as that pretty much negated any effort to conceal their identities. The front of this particular vest bore the words 'CSI' on one pocket flap and 'Stokes' on the other.

Mac's gaze found the blood in the van once again and his short-lived relief was quickly replaced by despair. Of all times for him to discover that Jack had a twin, this was not the most opportune.

The switch in extreme emotions, coupled with the lack of sleep and food—and possibly the final remnants of whatever drug his father had dosed him with still coursing through his system—had MacGyver feeling weak with dread. The world tilted on its axis, the van and not-Jack blurring in and out of focus, and Mac reached out to steady himself against the open back door of the van.

"Whoa!" not-Jack exclaimed, stepping forward to nudge his shoulder beneath Mac's arm while wrapping his own arm around Mac's waist and pulling him close to keep him from collapsing to the ground. He also seemed intent on keeping Mac from touching the van in his desperate attempt to catch himself.

As he was held against the broad chest, one arm loosely draped over the other man's shoulder, Mac fought to get oxygen into his lungs, even as he flashed back to the orange juice incident a week earlier when his Jack had prevented him from slamming down onto the kitchen counter—then his father catching him several hours earlier.

The last memory had Mac suddenly fighting the hold, but the struggles were feeble and he was easily overpowered.

"Take it easy, kid. I'm not gonna hurt you."

He was getting really sick of feeling so fragile; powerless as not-Jack—Stokes?—continued to support his weight until he was able to get past the dizzy spell.

Mac never liked showing weakness in front of his partner, but at least he could trust Jack not to judge him for it … he hated showing any kind of vulnerability in front of anyone else—even Jack's twin—because, in Mac's experience, people tended to err on the side of opportunistic and used Mac's weaknesses against him.

His own father was a prime example of that!

Finally, MacGyver was able to get his feet firmly beneath him and pulled away from the impromptu embrace. Not-Jack was hesitant but once he knew MacGyver wasn't going to collapse again, he stepped away, granting Mac his personal space.

"You okay?" Stokes asked, with an all-too-familiar southern drawl.

"Yeah, sorry," Mac blushed.

"You looked like you saw a ghost there, bud."

Mac's heart clenched at the nickname which, although said with a friendly tone, held none of the usual affection and familiarity that Jack always put into it. He chuckled to hide the despair once again welling up inside him. "I kind of did, to be completely honest."

Stokes watched him, brows raised in typical Jack-fashion as he waited for an explanation. "I'm sorry?"

"Never mind," Mac grinned, trying to make it sincere but knowing he'd failed. He noticed for the first time that Stokes held Jack's gun in one hand, not aiming it per se, but definitely keeping it out of MacGyver's reach.

And the blond couldn't really blame him. He'd likely felt it against the small of Mac's back while keeping him upright and confiscated it for his own protection. However, the fact that Mac had no recollection of the action was disconcerting, to say the least. He pulled out his wallet to show the man his ID, then motioned towards the gun. "May I?"

"What does a think-tank employee need with a gun?"

This time, Mac did feel the wry grin playing on his lips. "CSI. That stands for Crime Scene Investigation, yeah?"

Stokes nodded.

"So, that means you're a scientist."

Another nod, followed by sudden realization of Mac's point as Stokes looked down at the gun holstered at his own hip. "Touché," he responded, handing Jack's Glock over and watching as the blond returned it to nestle at the small of his back.

Suddenly remembering the uniformed officer losing his supper, MacGyver glanced across the parking lot.

Stokes followed his line of sight. "Ah, don't worry about him. Michaels won't be joining us anytime soon," he smirked, before turning back to MacGyver. "In all seriousness, though, would you mind telling me what you're doing at my crime scene, kid?"

Mac shook his head with a discontented sigh—looking young came with its advantages, of course, but part of him really couldn't wait until his face started showing his age. "My partner is missing. He was kidnapped by whoever was driving this van," he added, gaze once again finding the blood on the floor of the van's interior.

Seeming to read MacGyver's mind, Stokes said, "Dog."

"What?"

"We tested the blood and determined that it belongs to a dog. So, unless your partner's a canine…"

Mac breathed a heavy sigh of relief, scrubbing one hand down his face. He felt badly for whatever dog had been used in the cruel joke but was incredibly thankful that it wasn't Jack's blood—there was still a chance Mac would be able to save him.

"How long have you been searching for this partner of yours?"

"Since this morning," Mac said, purposefully leaving out the debacle with his father.

"Well, you look like crap, kid. When was the last time you ate something?"

"Your partner goes missing," MacGyver muttered challengingly, "would you stop for a burger and fries?"

Stokes nodded thoughtfully. "Fair enough."

Those two words made MacGyver's heart clench that much tighter, as he remembered all the times Jack had used the same phrase—the most prominent recollection being while investigating Frankie's apparent murder. The mere memory of Jack's arms wrapped around his shoulders while he pulled himself together that day had embarrassed Mac to no end, but he would take that embarrassment one hundred times over if it meant having Jack Dalton back safe and sound.

"What is it?"

"It's just… with the exception of being about 10 years younger, you're the spitting image of my partner," Mac explained. "Like to the point of being creepy. You even talk like him."

"They do say that everyone has a doppelgänger somewhere in the world; never thought I'd find out about mine being so close in proximity, though."

MacGyver couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, if I'd held any doubt about your true identity, it would definitely be gone now."

"Why's that?"

"He would never have used the word 'doppelgänger' in the proper context."

"Don't you think-tank folk have to be brainiacs or something? What?" he asked when MacGyver grinned again. "It's not a pre-requisite?"

"Let's just say, what Jack lacks in formal education, he more than makes up for with his skills for strategy and tactical training."

Stokes peered at him for a moment, studying him carefully, as if trying to determine his truthfulness; he pivoted and saw the GTO for seemingly the first time. "Your partner's name is Jack?" he asked, turning back to MacGyver.

"Yeah, why?"

"You wouldn't happen to have a picture of him, would you?" Nick asked, needing confirmation of this whole doppelgänger bit before saying anything further.

Confused, Mac extracted his phone from his pocket and pulled up a group-selfie Jack had insisted on taking after the success of a particularly difficult mission in Afghanistan. His gaze moved from the phone's screen to Stokes as the other man's jaw dropped in surprise.

"Jack Dalton?" he said with disbelief. "Jack Dalton is your partner?"

Mac hesitated. If this man ended up actually being Jack's long-lost twin brother, Mac solemnly decided to pinch himself to see if he had fallen into one of Hortence Leadbetter's soap opera induced nightmares. "Yes," he finally confirmed.

Checking his watch, Stokes seemed to make a decision. "My shift ends in about 20 minutes, and I just finished with the photos and sketches for this scene. How about I clock out and then you 'n me go get ourselves a late supper."

"I'm not hungry—" Mac began, hackles rising at the thought of wasting any more time than he already had.

But, in a very Jack-like fashion, Stokes raised a hand to halt any protest. "You won't be any good to Jack if you collapse from exhaustion. Food will give you more energy while we search for him."

"We?" MacGyver asked.

Stokes grinned. "You didn't think I'd let you search for my cousin all on your own, now did you?"