buried macdoc

[psifi872]

November 24th. 10 A.M.

MacGyver walked around the wreckage of the formerly thriving grocery and supply store, Keller's Outfitting. It had been a locally owned store that supplied food and winter survival equipment, including for hikers and campers. They had supplied firewood and other necessities for locals living higher up in the mountains of Colorado. A junior senator, Marshal Tompkins, had been injured in the bombing that had torn the store apart.

Fortunately, the store had been nearly empty. Only one child had been present and she had received only minor injuries. The store owners, unfortunately, had been instantly killed. MacGyver channeled his indignation and rage into focus and determination. Someone had done this and that someone was going to pay.

He found the remains of the device in the area where, according to local authorities, coolers had been stored. Apparently, the perpetrator had simply slipped the device into one of the coolers at the bottom of a stack. Simple and devious, MacGyver admitted, angrily. He picked up some of the scraps and cursed. After months of study, he recognized the style of the incendiary device. Mason.

MacGyver's phone rang, indicating a text message. He picked it up, noting the blocked number with a frown.

Come find me. I'm in the area.

MacGyver's mouth tightened and he gave a nod.

"Mac?" Desi asked, coming up to him.

"It's Mason and he's in the area."

"So, this was bait for a trap?"

"Apparently," MacGyver agreed. "We gotta find him."

"The houses in this area are pretty far apart."

"True, but the sheriff said the locals are pretty close-knit. Everyone knows everyone, even amongst the seasonal regulars. We start looking for anything out of place."

"Let's go talk to him again."

They found the sheriff talking with a group of local men, all of them stone-faced and armed.

"Sheriff? Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Don't worry. I know these men. They won't do anything stupid," Sheriff Reeds assured them. "Did you find anything?"

"Yeah. I know who did this. He's someone we've been trying to catch for the past three months. He's very dangerous and we have reason to believe he's still in the area. He's setting a trap. Has there been any unusual activity among the locals or maybe the seasonal crowd?"

"Not that I can think of. What are you looking for? Potential targets? A hiding place?"

"Maybe both," MacGyver admitted. "It depends on what his game is."

"Do you know what he wants?" one of the locals, Old Man Warner, asked.

"Yeah. He wants revenge," MacGyver said, tightly.

"We got our own share of snowbirds," Warner said. "If your guy needs a hidey-hole, there are a number of homes with absent families. The Hendricks are already gone for the winter. We won't see them again until late March at the earliest."

"Have you seen anyone unfamiliar? Anyone who stands out?" Desi asked.

"We get a lot of tourists, this time of year," Reeds said, shrugging. "The hunting and fishing are good. But, winter is coming on fast, so it's slowing down, except for those planning on spending the winter here."

"There was this one guy," Al Davis mused. "I saw him at Keller's a few days ago. He had a military walk. I was behind him in line. He bought a bunch of stuff, including ammo and a tent. Thing is he had an out-of-state driver's license, but he didn't buy any hunting or fishing permits."

"Did he say he was going to be hunting?" MacGyver asked. "Or did he say something about camping?"

"He didn't say much," Davis said, scoffing. "Man didn't have very good manners. He did say he was gonna be in the area for a bit, though."

"It's not a good time for camping," Warner added. "We've got sleet and snow on the way. You'd have to be pretty hardcore about it to insist on camping this next week or two."

MacGyver pulled out his phone and pulled up a picture of Mason, showing it to the men.

"Is this the guy you saw?"

"Yeah. That's him," Davis confirmed.

"The tent could just be a prop," Desi reasoned. "He probably bought it to justify being in the store. He might stand out, walking out empty-handed."

"Probably," MacGyver agreed. "We still need to get a crew to sweep the woods nearby and see if he's hiding out there."

"I'll tell Matty," Desi agreed.

"I'm going to go with the guys sweeping the forest," MacGyver decided. "It wouldn't surprise me, if they stumbled across another device or two out there."

"All right," Desi agreed, "but that means I go, too."

"Of course," MacGyver agreed, grinning. "Let's go."

11:12 A.M.

MacGyver pushed through the low brush around the trees, his stride confident, despite the obstacles. Desi walked silently beside him, a steady presence. MacGyver halted, spotting something on a nearby tree. Fiber. Grabbing it, MacGyver found it was a bit of wool, probably from a sweater. He forced himself to ignore the adrenalin spike that increased his heart rate. The fibers only proved there was or recently had been a human presence. A hiker, a camper, or a hunter were better possibilities than his target. Still.

"Come on," he said to Desi, pushing forward in the most likely direction.

Five minutes later, they stood in an empty campsite. The embers of a fire still glowed, within a circle of stones, a coffee pot set haphazardly in the coals. MacGyver frowned, his instincts blaring a warning. A rustling sound above him was the only warning he got, as a man slid down from the trees on a rope, his boot connecting with MacGyver's temple in a hard kick. Two other men launched a similar attack on Desi, who struggled back up, shoving her fist with painful accuracy into one man's crotch. The other got behind her, looping a thin metal cable around her neck and drawing it tight. MacGyver launched himself at his attacker, thrusting his fist hard into the man's solar plexus. His partner didn't deign to get close, but sent a blow dart into MacGyver's neck.

Desi watched in alarm, as MacGyver crashed to the ground, before she was grabbed by her two opponents, before the same man gave her a dart of her own. When she woke up, MacGyver and all traces of the camp, except the fire, which was now out, were gone. She made her way back to town and to the sheriff's office.

12:30 P.M.

MacGyver woke up, moaning groggily. He was manacled, hand and foot, to a metal bed or bed frame, raised in a slightly reclining position. It reminded him a bit of when Murdoc kidnapped him, but there was no i.v. attached to him. Then again, Murdoc had left him the dignity of his clothes. MacGyver was dismayed to find he had been stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers. Even his shoes and socks were gone. That explained why he was so cold!
He knew it was only about thirty degrees outside. In here, he doubted it was even fifty degrees. A bright light appeared above him, making him squint. He looked around, finding himself in a small room, with a concrete floor and wooden beams over the ceiling. A washer and dryer sat innocuously in one corner. He was in someone's basement.

"Ah, you're awake. Good," Mason said, dryly, stepping out from the shadows.

"Taking a page from Murdoc's book?" MacGyver asked, coldly.

"I've read your history with her. It's fascinating. But, no. She seems to enjoy playing cat and mouse with you. I just want you to suffer and die. I am, however, going to give her another opportunity to kill your friends. With you dead, I think she'll be willing to bring her game to a final end."

"She's not what I'd call cooperative, but whatever. Just get on with it, so I can find a way to stop you."

Mason gave a bitter laugh.

"I do admire your spirit, MacGyver. I almost regret having to break you. But, as you wish. I do want to get this done, before the really bad weather sets in. Gregory," Mason summoned.

A tall, thin man, with hungry eyes, stepped forward, his hands taped up, like a fighter.

"This is Gregory. The Organization allowed me to hire his services, along with the team that captured you. He's quite skilled at inflicting pain, usually for information. In your case, of course, I want only to mangle you enough to horrify those that love you, before they, too, are killed."

"You're twisted."

"Yes, and your father is the one who twisted me. Gregory, if you please."

Gregory grinned, stepping forward. He drove his fist into Mac's cheek, hard enough only to leave the beginning of a deep bruise. MacGyver grunted, more annoyed than hurt.

"Don't worry. I'm just warming us both up, priming your nerves, so to speak," Gregory promised.

MacGyver didn't bother responding, as Gregory drove a fist deep into MacGyver's gut. The air left MacGyver's lungs, leaving him panting heavily. Licking his lips, Gregory removed his heavy, leather belt, cracking it lightly on his own thigh. Lifting it high, Gregory brought it down with surprising strength across MacGyver's shoulders, getting a wince for his efforts. MacGyver couldn't keep back a cry of surprise, as the next blow fell across the same cheek as before, a burning pain flaring up, resonating in his gums. Gregory eyed the red mark left behind with deep satisfaction. It was a small, but satisfying, start.

Gregory launched a series of strong blows in a pattern starting at MacGyver's chest and ending at his knees. The blows landed mostly on bare flesh and MacGyver found himself groaning, after they began over-lapping. Gregory stepped forward, after a few minutes, and ran his fingers over some of the darkest marks. MacGyver's lips trembled slightly. Under the long strands of hair sticking to his forehead, MacGyver's eyes were wide and dilated. He glared at Gregory in disgust, but Gregory just winked merrily at him. Looking around, MacGyver noticed Mason had left the small room, the coward.

"He'll be back," Gregory told him, amused. "We're going to be at this for a while. In fact, I think I'll take a cigarette break myself and give the pain a chance to peak a bit."

Gregory went to a table across the room, picking up a cigarette and lighting it. He leaned against the wall, puffing contentedly, while MacGyver wracked his brain, trying to think of a means of escape. Unfortunately, he didn't have much to work with. Gregory couldn't say the same thing. Nearing the end of the cigarette, he came over to MacGyver, extinguishing it on the sole of MacGyver's foot, watching the slightly pink flesh turn a dark, angry red. MacGyver gave a brief cry of pain, before clamping his mouth shut, focusing on breathing.

"I was told you're not afraid of fire, so much as heights. It's hard to use those in torture," Gregory admitted, wryly. "Well, let's see if I can change your mind about fire."

MacGyver gulped, feeling a wave of anguish. Gregory tightened the manacles, leaving MacGyver unable to effectively move his arms or legs. He gritted his teeth, as Gregory brought the flame of his lighter into contact with MacGyver's calf. Within seconds, MacGyver screamed, the heat digging sharp and bright into his skin. Gregory removed the flame, watching a blister raise up, a milky white against the soft tan of the surrounding skin. MacGyver blinked, as sweat began running down his face. He admitted to himself that he was scared. Where was Desi?

What if she didn't find him?

Grimly, MacGyver forced that thought away. Gregory made that easy, as he brought the flame back, this time targeting MacGyver's upper left arm. MacGyver thrashed, desperately trying to get away from the searing pain. Again, Gregory withdrew the flame, once a good blister started to form. Once it was gone, MacGyver forced himself to take deep breaths, the sound ragged. His heart beat loudly in his ears, as he struggled to find a way to survive. He blinked, willing away the tears that were starting to form.

"You're pretty tough. A lot of guys are already begging me to stop, at this point. There's just something about fire that weakens people."

After the next few burns to arms and legs, MacGyver had to admit Gregory was right. He could feel his resolve, his hope, weakening. He wouldn't let himself be afraid, though. He was an expert on defusing bombs. He was well-acquainted with fire. MacGyver was far more afraid of the corrupted mind directing the flames.

"You're sick," MacGyver grated out, his mouth dry.

"Well, yeah, probably," Gregory admitted, uncaring. "I'd rather be me, than you, though."

Gregory pulled out a razor sharp knife, holding it up, so the edge glinted in the light.

"Y'know what I love about knives? They're actually more painful, the less damage you do! Shallow wounds don't get the endorphins going. The contradiction never fails to amaze me."

Gregory placed the tip of the knife on MacGyver's collar bone, letting the blade sink in mere millimeters, before dragging it slowly across his chest. MacGyver let out a cry, thrashing against the bright pain. Gregory soaked a cloth in alcohol and ran it over the cut, soaking up the thin ribbons of blood. He wasn't sure what he enjoyed more: his victim's pain or the irony of the moment. MacGyver just breathed, hissing in pain, but refusing to give any further reaction.

"Not that it matters, if you get an infection, but that stings, doesn't it?" Gregory said chuckling.

He made several more cuts, up and down MacGyver's arms and legs, before stopping.

"Time for a break. Patience is hard, but y'know. I can't let you get desensitized. Mason wants you to look a bloody mess, when all this is done. I'll be back."

MacGyver rested, trying to get as comfortable as possible, trying to think. Unfortunately, his mind told him he was in big trouble. His arms and legs were practically immobile and there was nothing close by for his mouth to grab and make use of. He was trapped and could only hope he would be rescued. He wasn't sure how much time he had left, but surely they would find him. He forced himself to believe that.

Gregory came back, dragging a couple of damp, canvas bags. Huffing with exertion, he pulled one of the bags onto the bed with MacGyver. He recoiled from the cold of the bag. Gregory laughed, upending the bag and sending a flood of ice cubes over MacGyver's legs. The next bag went onto his arms and shoulders. MacGyver shivered, the intense cold quickly becoming painful.

"You're gonna freeze me to death?" he said, his teeth chattering.

"Nah, Mason has something better planned. Gotta admire him. He's almost as sick as me!"

MacGyver grimaced, staying silent to reserve his energies. He thought of Desi, Riley, and Bozer, of Matty and even of his dad. They were out there. They were looking for him. He just had to hold on.

"Get that off of him," Mason ordered, reluctantly. "I don't want him losing consciousness or becoming muddled. I'm afraid we have to step up our plans. A major storm is coming. We have less than an hour."

"The hole is already dug," Gregory said, hopefully.

"You want to risk getting stuck up here for the winter?" Mason challenged. "I appreciate your work, but I want his body found before spring. I need to get him in the ground, so I can leave clues to his location."

"You're the boss," Gregory said, shrugging, beginning to push the ice to the floor.

"Let me go, Mason," MacGyver offered. "You'll never get away with all of this."

"Do you honestly think I care?" Mason asked, incredulously. "What happens to me, after you and your friends are dead, after your father is defeated and destroyed...is absolutely unimportant. I'll probably rot in jail. I might even be executed. It only matters that I avenge my son, first."

"Would your son want this?" MacGyver challenged.

"No. He was kind," Mason said, flatly. "And your father killed him. Unfortunately for you, he got that kindness more from his mother."

"Grab his arm," Gregory instructed Mason.

Together, Gregory and Mason got MacGyver's hands and feet secured with zip ties. Gregory then grabbed a long, plastic tube, which he forced into MacGyver's mouth, then taped it heavily into place. Once that was done, Gregory threw MacGyver over his shoulders and carried him up the stairs and outside to the backyard.

MacGyver thrashed wildly, when he saw the hole, the grave, that Gregory had referred to. A wooden cross with his name and the date carved into it had been planted at the head. Fighting did him no good. Gregory stumbled a bit, but succeeded in carrying MacGyver to the grave and dumping him inside. Making sure MacGyver was facing upward, Gregory took a nearby shovel and began filling in the hole. MacGyver tried to get to his feet, but Gregory just knocked him back over.

"This is good-bye, Mr. MacGyver," Mason said. "Your death will be slow and lonely. I'm sure your friends will mourn bitterly, when they find you in a few days."

He turned and left. Moments later, MacGyver heard the roar of a truck pulling away.

"My usual bosses, on the other hand, aren't going to mourn at all," Gregory noted, cheerfully. "You've been a pain in the Organization's ass for far too long. Bye, now."

MacGyver shuddered, feeling the heavy, plodding thump of dirt on his bare skin. He was cold and the dirt wasn't warming him much. Hope faded, as the weight swiftly became slightly crushing. The grave was just shallow enough that it allowed MacGyver to breathe the air coming in through the tube. He wouldn't die of suffocation, unless it started raining and filled the tube up. Though, thirsty as he was, MacGyver would probably be able to drink the water and clear the tube that way. As cold seeped in, he knew he wouldn't last the night. He prayed someone was coming.

2 P.M.

Someone unexpected was coming. Murdoc had woken up in a hotel room. Along with some warm clothes, including a heavy, leather jacket, someone had left a letter, giving her directions to this place and the keys to a truck. Supposedly, the person was interested in helping Murdoc destroy the Phoenix Foundation and had promised she would find something of interest here. Well, Murdoc was certainly intrigued. She had parked a few yards back from her destination and was stealthily making the rest of the trip on foot. Fortunately, her supposed benefactor had left her a gun and some bullets. Murdoc had thoroughly inspected both, taking the gun apart and cleaning it, before deciding it was safe to use.

Hearing the roar of a truck approaching, Murdoc disappeared into the shadows of the surrounding trees, waiting until the truck was gone, before moving ahead. She approached her destination from the side, noticing movement in the back. Murdoc crept around, watching as a man shoveled dirt into a grave. Gregory. Murdoc recognized him from her own past, doing jobs for the Organization. Gregory's task was about half done. Weirdly, a hollow tube was sticking up from the site. Noticing the cross, Murdoc crept around to read what it said: Angus MacGyver. Laid to rest November 24th, 2019.

Without thinking, Murdoc aimed and fired her gun, killing Gregory instantly. Murdoc ran forward. Surely the tube was for breathing? The thought that MacGyver was already dead was...unacceptable. Murdoc ignored her own racing heart, telling herself it was just from exertion. Grabbing the shovel, she began removing the dirt from the grave, working furiously. She forced herself not to think or examine her own motives. She'd get her boyscout out and come up with excuses later. After a couple of feet, the shovel hit something softer than dirt and a cry of pain could be heard clearly. Tossing the shovel away, Murdoc began clawing the dirt out with her bare hands.

The cry of pain echoed through Murdoc's mind in an alarming way, as she worked, the icy soil tearing at her fingers. The closest comparison she could find for the sensation was the way she felt, whenever Cassian was crying. Not fitting at all, she told herself, scornfully.

With enough dirt cleared, MacGyver struggled into a sitting position, taking deep, gulping breaths from the tube. Murdoc drew a knife, then cut away the tape holding the tube in place and the ties around his feet and hands. Uneasily, Murdoc took in MacGyver's state. The boyscout was nearly naked and shivering violently. Even through the light layer of dirt on MacGyver, Murdoc could see his injuries, the dirt, mixed with blood, clinging to the cuts. Fierce anger and protectiveness welled up in her. No! Not protectiveness, possessiveness, Murdoc told herself angrily, but she didn't listen, not even to herself.

Murdoc froze, eyes wide, when MacGyver's gaze focused on her.

"Murdoc?" MacGyver asked, confused, almost not believing it.

He was too cold, tired, and wounded to hide his vulnerability. He gazed at his nemesis and trembled, waiting for whatever would come, shoving away the part of him that wanted to hope. Murdoc just nodded slightly at him, a strange expression blazing in her dark eyes. She looked...alarmed? MacGyver winced, as icy water started falling on him, the sky opening up and delivering sheets of sleet on their heads. Murdoc gave an angry hiss, launching to her feet. Too weak to fight, MacGyver wrapped his arms around his knees, trying to control his shaking. To his surprise, Murdoc scooped MacGyver up into her arms, holding him close. They made it to the door in just a few strides of Murdoc's long legs.

Fortunately, Gregory and Mason had left the door unlocked. Murdoc got it open and carried MacGyver inside, like a groom carrying a bride over the threshold. The thought made MacGyver giggle hysterically.

"Don't you lose it on me, Boyscout," Murdoc said, fuming. "You're going to explain what's going on to me!"

MacGyver nodded, though he wanted to tell Murdoc he didn't know. What did Murdoc have to do with any of this? Shouldn't she already know, herself? The questions became unimportant, as Murdoc found the bathroom and set MacGyver on the sink. Murdoc grabbed the box of handi-wipes sitting on the back of the toilet and began cleaning away the dirt that clung to MacGyver. MacGyver cried out in pain, surprised, when Murdoc stopped for a moment or two, before continuing.

"I know, Boyscout, but we have to get you warmed up and those cuts and burns tended," Murdoc said, grimly. "Just take it easy."

MacGyver nodded, too confused to be worried, as Murdoc cleaned him. Once that was done, Murdoc grabbed a towel from the rack and dried MacGyver's hair. MacGyver let her, his thoughts rolling around. Why? Why was Murdoc helping him? How had the assassin even found him? MacGyver wasn't as surprised as he wanted to be, that Murdoc had managed to escape. It was kind of her thing, really. MacGyver tried not to be touched by the care he was receiving. He couldn't afford that.

"I'm not thinking clearly," MacGyver told Murdoc, the words trying to twist his tongue into knots.

He was fairly certain it was a stupid thing to say, anyway.

"You're in no condition to be thinking," Murdoc said, dryly, going through the medicine cabinet, then the drawers on the side of the sink. "Just...worry about it later."

Murdoc found a thermometer and popped it into MacGyver's mouth, then continued rummaging. She managed to find antibiotic ointment, dressing, and bandage tape. The thermometer went off and Murdoc took it out, studying the reading, with a grimace.

"Ninety-five point nine," Murdoc announced. "You're on the verge of hypothermia."

"Fun," MacGyver replied. "Explains the exhaustion, shivering, nausea..."

"Shut up, Boyscout," Murdoc advised.

She liberally slathered MacGyver's burns and wounds with the ointment, then bandaged them. MacGyver gave a sigh, still shaking from cold. He sneezed, the sound almost startling him into falling off the sink. Murdoc chuckled, catching him.

"Easy, Angus. You're gonna end up sick, if we don't get you warm, soon. Stay right here. I'm going to find you some clothes."

MacGyver considered obeying. He felt weak and disoriented. But, breathing deeply, he caught the faint scent of wood smoke. Stumbling and catching at the walls for balance, he followed it and found himself in a cozy living room with a blazing fire roaring in the fireplace. Had Murdoc had time to do that? Or was it Gregory? Would he have doused the fire, before leaving? Or, had he left? Shivering, MacGyver sat as close to the fire as he could stand, staring into the flames and listening to the crackling of the wood. Something glinted and caught his eye. A sliver of glass was at the edge of the fire, surrounded by black plastic.

His cell phone. His cell phone was in the fire. It must have been there for a while, he mused. It was almost all gone, melted away.

"MACGYVER!" Murdoc shouted from the bathroom.

MacGyver started, then blinked. Wow. The woman certainly had a good set of lungs. He ignored the note of concern in her voice. MacGyver was probably just imagining it, anyway. He took a breath.

"Here!" he called, the sound coming out weakly and inducing a coughing fit.

Murdoc strode into the room, her face set into hard lines. Her expression softened a bit when she spotted MacGyver and the fire. She held up MacGyver's leather coat, which was on top of a pile of MacGyver's clothes.

"Looky what I found, Boyscout. Your ridiculous jacket! Come on, get dressed," Murdoc ordered, dropping the clothes beside MacGyver.

Nodding, MacGyver reached for his pants, but his fingers weren't cooperating. It took him a try or two, before managing to snag the pants and draw them closer. Once he had them, he sat, looking at them, feeling clumsy. He looked up, when Murdoc sighed. Reaching out, she took the pants back and grabbed MacGyver's foot. MacGyver peered owlishly at his own extremity, wondering what Murdoc wanted with it. Murdoc drew the foot into the pants' leg, then grabbed the other one, repeating the move. MacGyver picked at the bunched-up cloth around his knee, making Murdoc laugh. She slipped MacGyver's feet into his socks, then stood.

"Can you stand on your own?" Murdoc asked.

"I don't know," MacGyver answered mildly, making no move to find out, too tired to care.

"Well, then," Murdoc said dryly, putting her hands under MacGyver's armpits and lifting him to his feet.

"You're strong," MacGyver told her, blinking.

"Yes, I am," Murdoc agreed, somewhere between amused and alarmed.

The cold was definitely getting to her boy scout's magnificent brain. Murdoc lifted MacGyver's hands up above his shoulders.

"Keep those there," she ordered.

MacGyver obeyed, head tilted in curiosity. Murdoc slipped MacGyver's sweater over his head, placing his hands into the sleeves and tugging them into place.

"There. Now, you're all cozy and ready for bed," Murdoc said, cheerfully.

"Bed? It's not dark out. I haven't even had lunch!"

"I'm going to get some food together, while you take a nap and warm up."

"I'm thirsty," MacGyver complained.

"I'll bring you some broth."

Murdoc led MacGyver into a bedroom, maneuvering him into the middle of a king-sized bed. She started to drape the blankets over MacGyver, but the boy scout began thrashing, shoving the blankets away.

"Stop it, Angus. You need to get warm."

"No! I don't want them."

"Tough," Murdoc said ruthlessly, shoving MacGyver back.

"Murdoc, please!" MacGyver begged, his breath coming in heavy gasps. "Shoot me first."

"Beg your pardon?" Murdoc asked, warily.

"Don't bury me alive. Please."

Murdoc froze, the blankets still in her hands. Well. Hell. Okay, she supposed that made sense, sort of, psychologically.

"Okay," Murdoc soothed. "We'll find a way, without the blankets. Lay down and I'll see what I can find."

"Okay," MacGyver agreed, laying down.

Well, great. Now what? Murdoc fumed. She ought to just strip down and use her own body heat to warm MacGyver up, but...she really did need to get them both something to eat. She looked around, opening the bedroom closet. Inside was a microfiber bathrobe, obviously meant for someone taller and heftier than MacGyver. She also found a heavy, wool beanie.

"All right, these should do, in place of blankets. Stand up and put these on."

MacGyver struggled to his feet, wrestling with the clothes. Murdoc disappeared for a couple of minutes, coming back with a large mug of broth. Thoroughly layered, MacGyver drank the broth, then laid down on top of the blankets, curling in on himself. Whatever Murdoc did next, MacGyver planned on sleeping right through it. He fell into a blessedly dreamless, healing sleep.

MacGyver drifted reluctantly awake, as his stomach protested being empty. Groaning, he forced himself to sit up, rubbing at his eyes. A warm, pungent smell that hadn't been there before drifted into the bedroom. His stomach rumbled hungrily, as MacGyver breathed in the scent. He wasn't sure what he was smelling, though he thought he detected carrots. He just knew he wanted some. MacGyver followed his nose, making his way to the kitchen and dining area.

Murdoc sat in a chair at the heavy, wooden table, placing a spoonful of stew into her mouth. Looking about, MacGyver spotted a large pot, being kept warm on the stove.

"Help yourself, Angus," Murdoc invited. "I didn't drag you out of that hole just to poison you."

"Guess not," MacGyver agreed, roughly, going over to the stove and spooning stew into the bowl left out for him. "How did you escape?"

"I didn't. I was kidnapped," Murdoc claimed, amused.

"You what?" MacGyver asked, confused. "What does that even mean?"

"It means, my evening meal was drugged. I fell asleep in my cell and woke up in a hotel room. Someone left me a letter, directing me here."

"Mason," MacGyver clarified, bitterly. "It had to be him, but why? What does he want with you?"

"I don't know. Apparently, he thought I'd find your death of interest."

"I was kind of under that impression myself."

"Oh, c'mon, MacGyver. I'm not going to kill my best bud!" Murdoc claimed, boldly.

Somehow, she didn't think MacGyver was going to believe any future threats against his life, not that Murdoc didn't intend to still make them. She had to have some fun!

"I have to get out of here and contact Matty."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's your cell phone in the fireplace and Mason, whoever that is, didn't give me one."

"We could just leave?" MacGyver suggested, but Murdoc shook her head.

"You might want to take a look out the window."

With a sense of dread, MacGyver obeyed and swore. Sleet and snow came down heavily. A blizzard was raging. There was no way they'd be able to drive safely.

"How far from town are we?"

"About twenty miles, straight up the mountain. I don't think there's much above us."

MacGyver groaned, his head falling back in dismay.

"If you were planning on either of us hiking to civilization, forget it," Murdoc said, flatly. "You're not out of danger from hypothermia..."

"Yeah, I get it!" MacGyver interrupted, annoyed. "I'm going to sit here and Mason's going to get further and further away. He might even be trying to kill the others."

"Well, you'll just have to trust your merry band to take care of themselves. Come finish your stew."

"Fine," MacGyver muttered, coming back to the table.

"Tell me about Mason. News of him hasn't got to me, yet."

MacGyver's face tightened, his mouth thinning into a hard line. He met Murdoc's eyes defiantly, his own wet and bright with tears.

"He murdered my friend Charlie. He set up a...twisted scenario. He wanted me to choose between saving Charlie and an entire building of people. I refused to give up, so Charlie set off the trap he was in. He saved those people."

"Mason's what? A terrorist?"

"No, he's former FBI. My dad got his son killed. He was a Marine and my dad sacrificed his life, in an inexcusable way."

"Ouch. So I take it you and he are on the outs again."

"I don't know," MacGyver said, grimly, shaking his head. "Mason wants revenge. He plans on destroying the Phoenix and anyone he thinks my dad cares about."

MacGyver studied Murdoc's reaction, but the lunatic only looked thoughtful. Murdoc stood, gathering up her bowl and spoon, before picking up MacGyver's empty bowl.

"Want any more?"

MacGyver gave a rough sigh, shaking his head a bit. Murdoc took his spoon, too, going over to the sink and turning on the taps. MacGyver watched, feeling a deep confusion and wariness, as Murdoc calmly washed their dishes.

"What about Gregory?" MacGyver asked.

"He's dead, of course," Murdoc answered lightly. "He's currently occupying the grave he intended for you."

"Why?" MacGyver asked, frowning.

"I'm an assassin, not a savage. Every single one of my victims has received a proper burial."

"Point is, did he have a cell phone?" MacGyver prodded.

"He did, but I wasn't able to get a signal. You're welcome to try. It's in the living room."

MacGyver went and found the phone, a basic flip phone, on the table. He opened it and found Murdoc was right. There was no signal and the phone was cheap, a piece of junk, really. MacGyver set it back down, sighing. There was no way he was going to be able to boost that thing enough to get a signal twenty miles away in a snowstorm. Defeated, he went back to the kitchen.

"No luck?" Murdoc asked, standing at the counter next to the sink and chopping potatoes.

"Anything I can think of would fry that thing. It's garbage. What are you making?"

"Hashbrowns for breakfast tomorrow. Anyway, I doubt it matters. If we can't get down, they can't get up."

"Yeah, but at least they'd know I was alive and where I was."

Murdoc chuckled, as MacGyver grabbed the tea kettle from the stove and stood beside him at the sink.

"Relax, Boyscout. I doubt they think you're dead. They just know you're missing and will be looking for you. Tomorrow or the next day, we'll be off this mountain and you can give them all the reassuring hugs and cuddles you want."

Glaring, MacGyver turned to her, ready to make a scathing remark, but stopped, his attention drawn to the rhythmic movement of Murdoc's hands. Murdoc's fingers were raw and red, the tips and sides covered in scratches and bruises.

Her hands. Murdoc had dug him out of that grave with her bare hands.

Gulping, unthinking, MacGyver reached out, gently running a finger over one of the worst cuts. Murdoc dropped the knife, then spun around, wrapping that finger's hand in MacGyver's hair and tilting his head back. MacGyver's eyes went wide and bright. He wondered if Murdoc had thought MacGyver was attacking.

He wondered if Murdoc was going to kiss him, their faces were so close.

MacGyver squashed the thrill that went through him, as Murdoc seemed to struggle with herself, her eyes squeezing tight. When Murdoc opened her eyes, they were intense, shining maniacally. MacGyver took a breath, reminded that his companion was not sane. Murdoc read something in his expression and laughed breathlessly.

"When are you going to learn not to tempt me?"

"I didn't know I did," MacGyver admitted, a bit lost, watching Murdoc's lips curl up in an angry smile.

"I'm tired of being conflicted about you," Murdoc hissed, not releasing him, but somehow seeming to withdraw a bit. "Part of me wants to tear you to pieces and the other part wants...to watch you go on being brilliant."

The other part wanted to shelter the boy scout, but Murdoc wasn't about to admit that, not even to herself, if she could avoid it.

"Those are mutually exclusive. You're going to have to choose," MacGyver told her, feeling a weird calm.

Murdoc released him, stepping back with a soft snort of laughter.

"I don't have to do anything, Boyscout. It's a privilege of the insane. What did you come over for?"

"I want some tea."

Murdoc turned and grabbed a steaming mug from her side of the sink and handed it to MacGyver.

"Here. Clean cup and everything. I haven't drunk from it. Take it and go."

MacGyver took the tea, sipping carefully at it. He studied Murdoc, trying to read her expression. Murdoc rolled her eyes, turning and making shooing motions at him, with her hands.

"Go, Boyscout! Go get some sleep. Shoo!"

"Fine," MacGyver said wryly, turning and leaving the kitchen.

In the hallway, he stopped, overtaken by a huge yawn. Taking Murdoc's advice was usually a bad idea, but he was exhausted. Sighing, he trudged back to the bedroom, finishing his cup of tea on the way. He wondered where Murdoc was going to sleep, then viciously shoved the thought away. He glanced at the alarm clock next to the bed, wondering what time it was. 7 P.M. MacGyver shook his head in bemusement. It felt like centuries, since he'd been in the forest with Desi. Desi. He hoped she was still alive. MacGyver was proud of himself, when he managed to shed the bathrobe and crawl beneath the covers, without panicking He curled up on his side and waited for sleep.

MacGyver woke up a few hours later, panting heavily, the blankets a strangling weight across his chest. MacGyer threw them off, ignoring the rush of cold air. Shivering, he looked at the other side of the bed, but it was empty He still didn't know where Murdoc was sleeping. Maybe, she wasn't.

MacGyver shuddered. Apparently, the physical trauma had eased enough to make room for mental trauma. He was awake now, but his nightmare lingered. He realized with dread that he could still hear a shovel crunching through soil and feel the soil hitting his bare skin. No, not bare, he reminded himself. He was fully dressed now and warm. MacGyver rubbed his arms, trying to break through the phantom sensation with solid, tactile contact. The feel of dirt hitting him persisted.

MacGyver got out of bed, grabbing and putting on the discarded bathrobe. He went into the living room. The fire had died down and been banked for the night, but was still going, giving off a gentle heat. MacGyver sat back down on the hearthstones resting his head on his knees. The imaginary dirt hitting him was distracting, but MacGyver struggled to get his thoughts in order.

Somewhere down the mountain was a murderous lunatic determined to kill him, his friends, and everyone at the Phoenix. Another murderous lunatic, probably armed, was asleep somewhere close by, who evidently wasn't sure herself what she wanted. MacGyver thought he should be more worried about that, but the fear wouldn't come. He was worried that remembering Murdoc's hands on his skin helped banish the memory of being buried, as long as MacGyver held the thought.

"Is going to bed and just sleeping a foreign concept to you?" Murdoc interrupted, with her usual, light sarcasm.

"No. I manage it just fine most nights. Just not when I'm trapped in a mountain cabin with my nemesis and my brain wants to dwell on being buried alive."

"Good point," Murdoc conceded, coming over and sitting next to MacGyver. "I take it you're not okay."

"Nope. Not one bit," MacGyver admitted, taking a deep breath.

"Anything I can do to help?"

"Distract me," MacGyver suggested. "Tell me why you saved me."

"Did it occur to you there might not be a 'why'? Honestly, Boyscout, I didn't waste time thinking about it. I just acted."

"You could make up a lie. You enjoy that. From the look on your face after you unburied me, I'd say you've been lying about wanting me dead, at least for a little while."

"Well, I lie to everyone else. Lying to myself, too, seems only fair."

Usually, MacGyver forced himself not to laugh at Murdoc's sarcastic quips, but this time he gave in and chuckled, shaking his head.

"Not to be pedantic, but you know that's not healthy, right?"

"That is pedantic and sure! I'm quite aware of the messy state of my mind. All the times Jack's called me a lunatic, did I ever actually deny it?"

"No. No, you didn't."

"This fire really isn't all that warm. You should go back to bed."

"I can't. I can't...feel anything."

"You're numb?"

Murdoc frowned, placing her hand on the back of MacGyver's neck. MacGyver's skin felt satisfyingly warm against her fingers. MacGyver stiffened a bit, but then relaxed, making a soft, relieved sound.

"No. I just...I can't feel anything, fully. It's all drowned out by the dirt hitting me. I can still feel it falling on me, still hear the shoveling," MacGyver admitted.

MacGyver felt a bit uneasy, confiding in his enemy...frenemy? But, surely the rules were a bit different, when your frenemy had saved your life.

"How bad are we talking? Nothing is getting through the memory?"

MacGyver hesitated a moment, then admitted, "Your hand on my neck. That feels real."

MacGyver expected a sarcastic comment about Murdoc being flattered or something, but, instead, Murdoc just pressed her hand a bit more firmly and began moving it in small circles. MacGyver sighed, relaxing further into the touch, savoring more than just the reality of it. He peeked up at Murdoc. Shadows and light highlighted the curves and planes of her lovely face, the shine of firelight somehow emphasizing the darkness of her hair and eyes. The subtle light and surrounding darkness emphasized Murdoc's coiled intensity, rather than softening it. MacGyver shivered, for the first time not shoving away and suppressing the ache of wanting.

Was he wanted?

"D-do you want me?" he asked, anxiously, then continued, "Please, help me."

Murdoc reached out and lifted MacGyver into her lap, her hand once again making its way into MacGyver's longer hair.

"Do you really doubt that?" Murdoc challenged, eyes almost glowing.

MacGyver didn't answer in words. He laid his hand in a caress against Murdoc's cheek, then leaned into her, kissing her softly. Murdoc made a sound of pure glee, kissing back and squeezing MacGyver as close as she could. MacGyver reached up, letting himself finally test out the texture of Murdoc's dark hair. It felt like silk against his fingers and MacGvyer wondered how she managed that, using prison shampoo.

"Are you really going to let me have you, Boyscout?" Murdoc asked, nibbling at MacGyver's jaw.

"I want you," MacGyver told her, nodding.

Murdoc stood up, pulling MacGyver up with her. She led him into MacGyver's bedroom, pushing him onto the bed. With almost supernatural ease and speed, Murdoc got rid of their clothes and got them both under the covers. MacGyver pressed close to her, letting Murdoc's body heat soak into his skin.

Murdoc burned the sheets up with him.

MacGyver writhed with pleasure underneath her, too thrilled by their love-making to notice the sensation of falling dirt ending. MacGyver felt Murdoc's body moving against his own and tasted the sweet spice of Murdoc's tongue and lips. He saw Murdoc's almost black eyes glowing with affection and hunger, hearing the growling rasp of her breath and the drumming of her heart. MacGyver's own breath sounded loud in his ears, as he moaned through his excitement.

Once sated, Murdoc and MacGyver curled up together, with Murdoc coiled possessively against MacGyver's back. Murmuring, MacGyver threaded their hands together, tugging Murdoc infinitesimally closer. Murdoc placed a final kiss on the back of MacGyver's neck, then fell asleep.

Objectively, MacGyver knew that Murdoc was snoring. But, the rumbling sound that emanated from deep in her chest was slow and rhythmic, coming in long peals. Lying in the dark, MacGyver could easily imagine he was lying in some deep forest, with a panther pressed snugly against his back. Breathing deeply, he noted with relief that he no longer was haunted by the memory of being buried. Closing his eyes, MacGyver let himself fall asleep.

November 25th 8 A.M.

MacGyver woke up to an empty bed and the warming scents of coffee and frying potatoes. Smiling, he climbed out of bed and pulled on his clothes. He found Murdoc in the kitchen, leaning idly agast the stove, waiting with a spatula in her hand to flip the hashbrowns.

"You're wrong about me," Murdoc said grimly, then continued in a softer tone, "I can love."

"Murdoc," MacGyver said, feeling sad and weary. "You were hurting me, when I said that. Is it any wonder it took me so long to...and it wasn't just me, it was my friends. Bozer, Cage...Jill."

Murdoc grimaced, nodding and shrugging.

"I usually don't hurt the people I love, but you're not the only one who was staying in careful denial and..."

They both remained silent, as Murdoc flipped the hashbrowns. Finally, Murdoc laughed, genuinely amused.

"You just can't help asking why," she admitted, apparently still finding that cute. "You and I both know there's nothing I can answer that will help you."

Putting the spatula down, Murdoc turned to face MacGyver, her gaze intense and unwavering.

"But, Angus, you don't dangle a mouse in front of a cat and expect it not to pounce."

MacGyver blanched.

"Angus?" Murdoc asked warily.

"A dangled mouse. Is that what Jill was?"

"It was a metaphor," Murdoc snapped, waving her hands in frustration.

"Yeah, but who dangled the mouse at you?!" MacGyver shouted, his breathing becoming labored.

Murdoc blinked, realizing the subject had changed.

"Matty or your dad, presumably."

"My dad," MacGyver echoed, bitterly. "I was so caught up in avoiding him and being worried about Jack. I never stopped to question what a lab tech was doing heading a task force."

"A bump up the ladder?"

"Yeah. I'm sure it looks great on her resume."

Murdoc reached around and turned off the stove.

"What are you thinking?"

"Dad wanted me back at the Phoenix. He knows my profile. He knew if you killed Jill that I would want to go after you."

"He let her die, so he could manipulate you? Your team isn't supposed to be naughty like that."

"There's a precedent. That's what happened to Mason's son. He was killed in a battle that was set up to give me a chance to escape from terrorists," MacGyver said woodenly.

"Are you going to quit again?"

"No. And, not just because of what else my father might pull to get me back. It wouldn't be fair to Matty and the others. I like my job. I believe in it. I'm not going to let my personal issues with Oversight destroy things."

MacGyver stormed off to the living room. He grabbed Gregory's phone, then hesitated, looking out the window. It was no longer sleeting, but snow was still falling, steady and heavy. Grimacing, he went back into the kitchen and began rummaging in the drawers and cupboards. He took the phone apart and tinkered with it, using what he could find to strengthen it. Murdoc watched quietly, mixing up some scrambled eggs, while the pan got hot again. MacGyver finally finished, turning the phone on. It came on for a few moments, then crackled alarmingly. A burnt scent rose from the back. Cursing, MacGyver removed its battery, smothering it with a hand towel.

Turning to the kitchen door, MacGyver flung the phone as far and hard as he could, listening to the crunch of its landing with satisfaction.

"They just don't make them like they used to," Murdoc lamented, wryly, shaking her head.

"Why was someone from the Organization carrying a piece of junk like that?"

"Not everyone is addicted to using a cell phone, Angus. I'm pretty sure Gregory's was for roadside emergencies and receiving instructions. I met him, before. He made me look like a people person."

"I believe it," MacGyver agreed, then sighed angrily. "I just made one of the worst discoveries of my life, after a hellish previous day, and I'm hungry. I just want to eat."

"Life goes on. Sit down and I'll serve breakfast," Murdoc said with light ruthlessness. "Don't they say living well is the best revenge? And, actually, Maggie, one of my favorite soap characters, said that living well was the best way to honor the dead that loved you."

MacGyver sat down and looked up at him, frowning in disbelief.

"You really do watch soap operas?"

"Mmhmm."

"Even when you're not in prison?" MacGyver asked, incredulous.

What was an admitted sociopath doing watching television shows that dealt primarily with emotions and relationship drama?

"I'm addicted to them," Murdoc admitted, with a touch of glee. "They're just so fascinating. The characters are adorable."

Murdoc turned to load their plates. Standing back up, MacGyver walked over to him, pressing close, relieved, when Murdoc simply went still, not pulling away.

"I know you love me," MacGyver assured her, returning to the conversation Murdoc had tried to start. "I love you, too."

Murdoc turned, placing a brief kiss on MacGyver's lips, then handing him a full plate of eggs and hashbrowns. Smiling, MacGyver took it back to the table and sat down, eating. Okay, the woman was a dangerous lunatic, with questionable tastes. At least she could cook and MacGyver still loved her.

November 26th. 9 A.M.

Murdoc moved through the cabin, her eyes darting around, her gaze sometimes lingering, if she found anything of interest. That was rare. Her boy scout was asleep on the couch, still recovering from torture and a near brush with death...well, and from an intense session of love-making. A good breakfast had left them both hungry for each other. Murdoc smirked, her body tingling with remembered pleasure. She wasn't fond of cold, so she wrapped her borrowed housecoat tighter around her, hiding her t-shirt and boxers from view.

Opening a door, Murdoc found a cozy little den and the smile dropped from her face. A landline phone sat in plain sight on the desk, mocking Murdoc with its no longer common presence.

Well. She knew better than to expect good things to last. Her time here with MacGyver was always doomed to be short-lived. Murdoc almost snarled, checking to see if the phone was even hooked up. It was, a clean, white cord leading from it to a port in the wall. She considered hiding the phone, destroying it. No. That would only delay the inevitable and her boy scout would consider it a betrayal. Sighing, Murdoc picked up the headset and turned the phone on, bringing it to her ear.

Nothing. There was no dial tone, only a soft buzzing. The weather was still sparing her.

For now.

"Murdoc?" he heard MacGyver call, her boy scout's voice full of sleepy complaint.

"I'm in here."

MacGyver came in and saw the headset in Murdoc's hand, his eyes widening.

"Does it have a dial tone?" MacGyver asked, the hesitance in his voice making Murdoc a bit happier.

She handed the headset over, with a shake of her head. MacGyver listened, barely bringing the phone to his ear, before shutting it off with a shrug.

"Could you boost it?" Murdoc asked, grimly.

"No," MacGyver said, shrugging, then smiled ruefully. "Well, maybe, but it'd probably destroy the phone and I really shouldn't do that to someone I don't even know."

"You do that to your neighbors," Murdoc pointed out, amused.

"They know me," MacGyver argued, grinning.

"The storm's easing," Murdoc challenged.

"As far north as we are? We aren't using the road anytime soon."

MacGyver cut off the discussion by pressing himself against Murdoc, pulling her into a deep kiss. Murdoc hummed happily, wrapping her arms tightly around MacGyver's waist. MacGyver pulled away, only to tug Murdoc to the door.

"Come on. I was all comfortable!"

"You were asleep," Murdoc pointed out, amused.

"Not asleep, just dozing," MacGyver corrected, going back to the living room.

They got to and settled back on the couch, snuggling into each other. Both of them had left the DVD player running and Murdoc watched happily, as tiny aliens with sharp teeth rolled up onto a farmhouse porch.

"What's the name of this movie again?" MacGyver asked, dubiously.

"Critters. Shhh! This is the best part," Murdoc said gleefully.

On the screen, one of the aliens brusquely dismissed the new knowledge that humans possessed weapons. A shotgun barrel poked its way out the door, reducing the other alien to a dark bloodstain. Murdoc laughed.

"Fuuuuuu...ha! A peashooter will kill just as effectively as an automatic, if used right, little buddy," Murdoc told the movie alien, snapping her teeth at the screen with cheerful menace.

"You...do know you're not supposed to identify with these guys, right?" MacGyver asked, somewhere between amusement and disbelief.

"Why not? They're dangerous predators. I'm a dangerous predator..." Murdoc countered.

"Murdoc," MacGyver said dryly, vying for her attention. "If you haven't already, do not take up cannibalism."

"Oo! Be afraid, Boyscout, be very afraid," Murdoc teased, staring with deliberate intensity into Mac's eyes.

"You be afraid," MacGyver retorted, dragging Murdoc down into a kiss. "Gotcha."

"Hmmmmm," Murdoc hummed in agreement.

A sharp thud from the hallway made the lovers jump. A cold emptiness settled over Murdoc's face, as she fluidly rose from the couch. Reaching under the couch, she pulled out a gun, leaning into MacGyver.

"Go out the window in the study. There's cover, but you'll have to fight. Follow the road about two hundred yards and you'll find the truck I came in. The keys are in the tailpipe. Go!"

"But, you..."

"I'm not the target, Boyscout!" Murdoc hissed. "Now, go!"

Reluctantly, MacGyver obeyed, trusting Murdoc's instincts and ability to plan ahead.

Murdoc watched him go with grim satisfaction, then made her way towards the front door, scouting carefully ahead. With any luck, Mason's men would either expect only MacGyver or plain underestimate Murdoc.

Unfortunately, Murdoc's reputation preceded her.

Waking up in the basement, Murdoc examined her condition. She was mostly unharmed. Her arms were chained behind her back, leading to another chain that wrapped around her waist. Hm. A bit too loose, really. She realized the door banging shut had been a trap, not the Organization's usual clumsiness. At least one man had already been in the house and had tasered her from behind. She'd explored the cabin enough to know this was its basement.

Murdoc knew Angus had been tortured here and anger flared in her gut. MacGyver was hers.

The door at the top of the stairs opened, then closed. An aging man walked steadily down the stairs. Grinning, Murdoc wrestled herself into a sitting position.

"Mr. Mason, I presume!" Murdoc greeted, smirking.

"Murdoc," Mason acknowledged, flatly. "Why?"

"Hmph," Murdoc chuckled, shaking her head. "I'm a sociopath. I don't play by anyone's rules. Not even my own."

"I thought you wanted them all dead!" Mason protested. "Your file..."

Murdoc cut him off, with deep, fake snoring.

"My file? Really? Do you think that thing says anything I don't want people to think?"

"You have a reputation for being not only clever, but mercurial," Mason conceded.

"I know," Murdoc agreed, amused.

"Falling in love with the mark is a bit cliche."

"Noooo, it's a trope. Cliches are cliches, because they're true, well, mostly. In real life, assassins almost never fall for their marks. It's just...Angus is so extraordinary!"

"He's his father's son..."

"No," Murdoc disagreed, laughing. "He far outshines Jim Daddy."

"Nevertheless, James MacGyver killed my son..."

"Mm, yeah. Sociopath? I don't care."

"I wasn't expecting you to," Mason assured her. "I'm merely explaining my motives."

"Oh. Well, don't worry. My boy scout took care of that for you."

"Did he. Well, then, you understand that you are now a target. I intend to destroy Angus MacGyver and everything else James MacGyver loves, before killing him, as well."

"Interesting plan, given how James treats Angus."

"I think he feels more than he shows," Mason said, shrugging. "I just need to get the younger MacGyver back again. You are going to be the bait that draws him to me. I hope you understand that none of this is personal. I didn't expect loyalty from you, after all."

"Killing you won't be personal, either," Murdoc promised, cheerfully. "It's just what any good assassin does for her lover."

"You have a very interesting mind, Ms. Murdoc. It's almost a pity I have to let the Organization kill you, though only after I have MacGyver," Mason said. "Goodbye."

"Have a nice day!" Murdoc taunted.

"It'll certainly be better than yours," Mason countered, before closing the basement door between them.

Murdoc shook her head, looking around the basement for anything useful. She stopped, when she heard footsteps on the stairs again. Four tall, beefy, Organization thugs walked down the stairs and stood around her in a semi-circle.

"Well, hello, boys," Murdoc greeted, smirking. "I take it you're here for some revenge."

"No one cares that you killed Gregory," the leader told her, shrugging. "But, you are working against our interests. We can't allow that. Mason insists on leaving you alive, but we're going to make sure you're in no shape to cause trouble."

"And hurting me hurts MacGyver?" Murdoc guessed.

"Yeah, that, too. Mason really wants that guy to suffer," the leader agreed.

The thugs surrounded Murdoc and began kicking. They carefully avoided her head, but covered the rest of her with deep, boot prints. Murdoc curled in on herself, trying to protect her breasts and the vulnerable area around her stomach.

Pain rolled over her like a thunderstorm, making her hiss and groan.

Blows pounded against her arms and legs like a deep, thudding rain, settling in pools of aching down to her bones, with occasional sharp flares, like bursts of lightning.

Mercifully, the flats, not the tips, of boots, tossed her like a horrible wind, battering against her ribs and back, driving away her breath. They bent and bowed under the pressure and more lightning flashed across her, brighter and stronger.

The storm ended, when a careless boot drove hard into her kidney. One last, long burst of lightning, a shattering blast of pain, brought a harsh cry from her throat. Murdoc gasped and gagged, glad she was already on the floor. She sensed the other men withdraw. She looked up, finding them staring down at her, their faces dark thunderclouds looming over her, still full of threat. Murdoc studied them, marking them for death. The leader understood the look and gave Murdoc a nod of respect.

"We're done here. Let's go," he ordered.

Left alone, Murdoc took a few careful breaths, testing herself. Deep breaths brought searing pain through her rib cage. She was sure at least a couple of ribs were cracked, if not broken. She shoved away her anger. Sooner or later, MacGyver or his team would show up and Murdoc would need to be ready. Making herself as comfortable as possible, Murdoc forced herself to sleep, grateful for the deep, soft warmth of her housecoat.

Meanwhile

MacGyver hurtled down the mountain road. Even with the heater going full blast he could feel the outside cold, seeping in, trying to bite into him. Fortunately, he'd been wrapped in his borrowed housecoat, while cuddling on the couch with Murdoc.

Murdoc.

MacGyver prayed his lover was still alive. Murdoc had saved his life again with her swift instructions. MacGyver had managed to slip past all but one of the Organization's men, swiftly knocking the man unconscious. As slippery and snow-laden as the road was, MacGyver estimated he was only five miles away from town.

He'd passed more and more houses, as he drove, but he wasn't about to bring trouble to their doors. No. He would find Matty and his family and they would deal with Mason...well, them and Murdoc...if she was still alive.

Please let her be alive, MacGyver thought, his throat tightening.

He'd lost Charlie and his trust in his dad. He wasn't prepared to lose anything or anyone else to Mason.

MacGyver nearly crashed into the curb of the police station, as his wheels slipped on the patches of snow and ice the plows hadn't quite cleared. He took a deep breath of relief, as the truck came to a stop. Unless the police station was wired to explode, he was relatively safe. For now. Wrapping the housecoat tightly around him, he threw open the door and ran for the station, getting inside as quickly as he could. He skidded to a stop in the reception area, greeted by stunned looks from the sheriff, Desi, Riley, and Matty.

"Mac!" Desi cried, relief eating into her astonishment.

"Uh. Hi," he greeted weakly, wondering where to begin with his explanation...his plea.

"Come sit down, Blondie," Matty ordered. "I bet that robe has an interesting story behind it."

"Ee-yeah. Yeah, it does," MacGyver agreed, swallowing. "Well, you know Mason grabbed me. He took me to a cabin about twenty miles up the mountain. He had an Organization man with him, Gregory. You'll find him buried in the backyard."

"You buried him? Why?" Riley asked.

"No. Um. He dug the hole himself and buried me alive in it."

"Buried you alive?! What? How did..." all three women shouted, in a mix of anger, astonishment, and worry.

"Guys, I'm fine! Well, mostly. I was rescued by...the person who buried Gregory."

"Not Mason, I take it," Matty prodded.

"No. Not Mason. Murdoc."

"Did you say Murdoc?" Desi asked, flatly.

"Yes, I said Murdoc," MacGyver agreed, sighing. "Look. It's not what you think!"

"Oh, come on, Mac. It makes perfect sense. Two lunatics want to see you suffer and die, so they teamed up. Mason'll probably throw in some cash for our favorite psycho," Riley theorized, folding her arms angrily.

"She saved my life. In fact, as of today, she's officially saved my life more times than she's tried to take it," MacGyver told her, trying to keep his temper. "I'd be dead and buried, if Murdoc hadn't dug me up."

"Murdoc got you out of a grave Mason had you put in? Blondie, that doesn't make sense."

"It's the truth. Matty. She dug me out of that grave with her bare hands...after accidentally hitting me with the shovel," MacGyver reluctantly admitted. "She got me out, she got me warm...she's spent the last forty-eight hours taking care of me."

"The snowstorm trapped you in the cabin," Desi concluded. "That still leaves the question why. Why change her mind now? She has to want something, Mac."

"She wants me," MacGyver admitted, giving a small grin.

"As in..." Riley began, then trailed off, certain she was wrong, but then continued, sharply, "So, what happens, when she realizes you don't want her?"

MacGyver looked away, for a brief second, before looking her solidly in the eyes.

"I love her. I have for quite a while now."

"You do a good job hiding it," Desi said, mildly, before turning to Matty. "It sounds like Stockholm Syndrome to me."

"She wasn't my captor!" MacGyver shouted at her. "Don't you get it?? Pretending to hate her, reminding myself of her crimes...it was the only way...I didn't know she wanted me. I couldn't let her know, thinking she didn't want me back. I thought she would use it against me!"

"What makes you think she won't?" Matty asked.

"She doesn't hurt people she loves. Look at Cassian, hell, even Allen! He destroyed their relationship, not her."

"Why are you telling us this?" Matty asked, knowing there was more.

"Mason and some of the Organization showed up. Murdoc sneaked me out, but she stayed behind, distracting them."

"So, she sacrificed herself for you, now?" Riley asked, skeptically.

"I seriously doubt that was her intention," MacGyver said, rolling his eyes. "She probably thought she could take them all on and win."

"I'm almost inclined to agree with her," Matty admitted, amused. "So, you want us to go rescue her, falling neatly into the trap Mason is no doubt laying for you."

"Yeah, we need to get up there..."

"No, Mac. Us does not include you. You're pale, shivering, and I don't think you've told us everything that happened, before or after Murdoc showed up," Matty said, firmly.

"Wait, how did Murdoc even get involved in all this? Or out of prison?" Riley demanded.

"Mason made the same mistake you guys did. He kidnapped Murdoc, thinking she would be interested in seeing me killed, in helping him kill all of you. Murdoc killed Gregory, instead."

"She also killed Jill," James said, coldly, coming into the room.

"Dad? What are you doing here?"

"This business with Mason is personal. I think I should be here, to help. Anyway, we aren't rescuing Murdoc. If she gets free, we'll work on getting her back into custody, but we're not helping her."

"You want to just let Mason kill her?" Matty asked, surprised. "She does provide valuable intelligence, at times."

"She's a loose cannon. She chose to be one of the bad guys."

"Well, if we're the good guys, I don't think we should pick and choose whose lives we're willing to save," Riley argued.

"Dad..." MacGyver began, trying to keep his anger under control.

"No!" James snapped. "She killed one of us!"

"SO DID YOU!" MacGyver shouted, standing and facing James. "Her death is your fault too! Just as much as Murdoc's!"

The others stared at MacGyver in shock.

"What does that mean?" Matty asked, quietly.

"Think about it. Think about the timing. Jill starts hunting Murdoc, once I quit and go to Nigeria?"

"You were gone. We needed the most intelligent person to lead, to get things done," James explained.

"Mmmhm," MacGyver said thoughtfully. "Matty? What's your take on this? What was a forensics lab expert, with very little field training and zero experience, doing leading a task force? Against someone as dangerous as Murdoc?"

Matty swallowed, hearing out loud, for the first time, the question she had kept asking herself, since Jill's death.

"James convinced me Jill would be safe, since she never actually went after Murdoc. Jill only twice went to places she had already left, gathering evidence. Most of her information came from others."

"How about you, Dad? What made you think it was a good idea?" MacGyver asked sardonically.

"I did not set Jill up to be killed," James argued, with quiet anger. "That was never supposed to happen. I thought Murdoc would threaten and bluster, play some game. Then, we would be able to get her."

"We. Why don't you just admit that 'we' includes me? That was the point, right?"

"Ideally, yes, but I certainly would have settled for simply catching Murdoc."

"Yeah," MacGyver said, unimpressed. "I am going to go save Murdoc. You all can come along, or not, if you want."

"No..." Matty started.

"I won't abandon her!" MacGyver shouted.

"I told you before," Matty answered sharply. "You are in no condition to help and I'm sure Murdoc would not appreciate us dragging you out into the cold, when you're still fighting hypothermia. Like I said, Desi, Riley, and I will go get Murdoc and try to find Mason. You are going to stay right here and rest!"

"I'm coming, too, then," James told them, grimly.

"No."

"Angus..."

"I don't trust you," MacGyver told him, wearily. "Even if I did, she doesn't like you. You used her and she knows it. Why tempt her?"

"Fine. We could use some time to talk," James conceded.

"I don't have anything to say to you," MacGyver told him bluntly.

James stared hard at him, letting MacGyver see his hurt and frustration. Matty, Desi, and Riley walked away, leaving to plan their mission. Sighing, James went and got MacGyver some coffee, hoping his son wouldn't actually throw it in his face. MacGyver didn't, taking it reluctantly and holding it.

"You can't be serious about loving that maniac," James persisted.

"Yeah, well, I am. Frankly, I don't think you should be casting stones."

"All right. I've made mistakes. I let the end justify the means..."

"You became a cold-blooded...at least, Murdoc admits she's a sociopath. What's your excuse?"

"I was trying to save the world."

"That's noble, but the big picture is only important, if it helps protect the little pictures."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I abandoned you and that I'm a disappointment, now that you've found me."

"Me too," MacGyver said, shaking his head. "Believe it or not, I'm trying to forgive you. I don't want things to end this way. Is there anything else you've done that I need to know about?"

"Not like this, no. Most of the hard choices I've made, and they were hard, were the same sort Matty makes all the time. It's part of the job, son."

"I know that," MacGyver said, sharply.

James sighed, then suggested, trying to sound kind, "Why don't you go to the hotel and rest? Mason isn't here, right now. He's too busy trying to lure you to the cabin."

"I'm worried about my lover. How much resting do you think I would do?"

James sighed, sitting in a chair nearby, but not next to, his son.

"On the other hand, you look like you could use some rest yourself."

"Are you concerned or are you trying to get rid of me?"

"A bit of both probably," MacGyver admitted, shrugging. "You just look tired."

"Mason captured you. I was worried."

"You should be. He's not done yet, unless Murdoc gets hold of him."

"So, you're okay with Murdoc committing murder for you?"

"No. I'm not," MacGyver said, shortly. "I'm just not love-stricken enough to think I can stop her or pretend she isn't capable of it."

"I'm sorry. I guess that was a low blow."

"Yeah, it was."

"All right. I guess I will take your advice. After all, I can't do much, until they get back. You'll be all right?"

"Yeah, Dad, I'm fine," Angus said, trying to soften his tone. "Get some sleep."

12 P.M. The mountain cabin.

Murdoc woke abruptly, listening to the steady scrape of feet across the floor above her head. To her, the footsteps sounded measured and a tad impatient. Someone was waiting and not enjoying it. Well. She was rested enough. There was always the chance something else had happened to MacGyver...or her boy scout had been denied permission for a rescue. That made things more difficult, but part of Murdoc hoped that was the case. Honestly, why put yourself at unnecessary risk? It would be refreshingly practical of her boyscout.

Time to move.

Murdoc shifted herself into a sitting position. First, she had to become somewhat less restrained. Shifting, contorting, and tugging, Murdoc managed to send spiking pain through her ribs, shortening her breath. That was all right. When she was done, her manacled hands were in front of her and she had a loop of chain hanging from them. Perfect. Coming smoothly to her feet, Murdoc crept up the stairs.

She was going to kill all of them or die trying, unless the Phoenix intervened.

Fortunately for Murdoc, the chain she wore allowed her to kill the first two Organization soldiers quickly and silently. Murdoc made her way back into the living room, amused to find the Critters DVD was still on, the start menu showing a Crite grinning viciously. Murdoc gave her favorite aliens a friendly wink, before heading for the kitchen. She made it to the doorway and found a gun in her face. Desi stared up at her, smirking slightly.

Murdoc grabbed her by the throat, slamming her hard enough against the wall that she dropped her gun.

"Desi, dear, do you want to explain how Angus ended up buried alive?"

"Nope."

Desi retaliated by striking hard at Murdoc's ribcage. She wheezed, almost laughing at the brittle snap of bone, as a cracked rib broke. Shoving her away, Desi dove for her gun, grabbed it, then rolled away, all while Murdoc struggled to breathe. She looked her over and whistled, noticing the bruises on her legs.

"Well, you're in sad shape. Nice underwear," she said dryly, eying her t-shirt and navy blue, silk boxers.

"What?" Murdoc quipped, gasping slightly. "You're disappointed they don't have hearts or stars or something?"

"A little, yeah," Desi admitted. "I think you know more about what happened to Mac than I do. I was knocked out and you're the one who ended up here with him."

"See?!" Murdoc mocked with an angry smile. "If you didn't insist on thinking like a human, you might have checked the trees. But nooo, it's not human instinct to look up! You gotta think like a predator, if you want to catch us."

"You know what? I really don't want to discuss this with someone in a bathrobe, but you got captured too. So what's your excuse, oh psychotic one?"

"I was outnumbered and they were more competent than usual," Murdoc said, shrugging.

"You underestimated them, then," Matty said, coming into the living room with Riley.

Murdoc considered that, then nodded.

"That's one way of looking at it," she agreed, carelessly. "Desi still messed up, though. I expect you to take good care of my boyscout."

"Whatever. I assume you have clothes here somewhere."

"Well, yes," Murdoc said, laughing, "but shouldn't we focus on finding Mason and his helpers?"

"No need. They're outnumbered," Matty assured her. "We came with two strike teams in three helicopters."

Murdoc whistled, amazed.

"Yeah, James is on a bit of a guilt trip," Riley said, smirking at the thought.

"Mmhmmm. Did you find Mason?" Murdoc asked Matty.

"No. He slipped by us. He was probably gone, before we got here."

"Ooh. He said he was using me as bait to draw MacGyver here."

"Three helicopters isn't subtle. I doubt it's what he was expecting," Riley pointed out.

"Or maybe he lied and is a step ahead of us," Murdoc countered, grimly. "We need to get back to town fast."

"Really? You planning on going like that?" Desi teased.

"Probably not the best idea," Murdoc admitted. "Fine. My clothes are in the bedroom."

"Does the bedroom have a window?" Matty asked with acid sweetness.

"Yes, it does," Murdoc said, amused.

"Then, you can change in the bathroom. We'll talk more about what happens to you later," Matty commanded.

"Of course, Matilda."

Sheriff's station. 1 P.M.

Desi opened the door, letting Murdoc, her hands bound in front of her, into the station, followed closely by Matty and Riley. MacGyver looked at his lover with intense relief, then frowned at the cuffs.

"She's still supposed to be in federal custody," Matty reminded MacGyver, though her voice was softer than he had expected.

"I'm wondering why we didn't drop her off at the nearest hospital, personally," Riley said, dryly.

"Hospital?" MacGyver repeated, alarmed.

"Oh, the Organization boys decided to have some fun," Murdoc said casually.

"Apparently they were in the mood for some soccer," Desi agreed.

MacGyver came over to Murdoc, lifting the side of her shirt and earning a hiss of pain.

"Murdoc? How bad is it?"

"Oh, y'know. Deep bruising, a couple of cracked ribs, one broken rib, and my kidneys aren't happy, either."

"O-kay, I'm seeing Riley's point. Why isn't she at the hospital?"

"Mason wasn't at the cabin and we needed to make sure he wasn't attacking here. We didn't know Murdoc had been hit in the kidneys and they don't tape broken ribs anymore. It can cause pneumonia," Matty explained.

"Oh," MacGyver said, a bit non-plussed. "Okay, then."

"Speaking of kidneys," Murdoc hinted strongly.

"Come on," MacGyveer said, smiling.

"Oh, please," Riley scoffed.

"Well, unless you want to assist, dear Riley..." Murdoc began, grinning.

"Just go and don't take forever," Matty ordered, not expecting them to listen, but buying herself time to think.

At least if they were canoodling in the bathroom, they weren't causing actual trouble.

MacGyver led Murdoc into the one-stall bathroom and locked the door. He released Murdoc from her handcuffs and stood close by as Murdoc relieved her bladder. MacGyver frowned, seeing the blood marring the toilet water.

"Oh, relax. It'll clear up in a week or so," Murdoc scolded, lightly. She grinned, noting the sour look MacGyver was giving a bruise on her hip. "Why are you glaring at that particular bruise? It's not the worst of them."

MacGyver rolled his eyes.

"Y'know, it bothers me that your injuries bother me more than you."

"Sociopath, Angus. You keep forgetting."

"With other people, sure, but towards yourself?" MacGyver protested, as Murdoc went to the sink and began washing her hands.

"Our traits include impulsive behavior and a lack of concern for consequences. It happened, end of story."

"End of story," MacGyver repeated, wryly.

"Well, except for the killing Mason part, of course."

"Can you let yourself heal first?" MacGyver asked, running his hands under Murdoc's sweater, gently skimming them over Murdoc's ribs and back.

"Probably not. I doubt he's going to wait that long to attack again."

"Excuses, excuses," MacGyver muttered, continuing to offer comfort Murdoc didn't seem to need.

Want seemed to be a different story, though, or, at least, Murdoc didn't offer any objections. Looking up at her, MacGvyer found Murdoc studying him, her head tilted to one side, her dark gaze intrigued and, oddly, a bit wistful.

"Yes?"

"Angus. You do know they're not going to let us be together, yes?"

"No," MacGyver countered, smiling brightly. "I don't, actually."

"Are you planning on claiming conjugal visits or do you actually have a plan?"

"Conjugal visits would be interesting, but no. And, I don't have a plan...yet."

"You..." Murdoc said, astonished, then laughed, shaking her head. "Well, I look forward to seeing what you come up with!"

"What? You didn't expect me to try?" MacGyver asked, a bit hurt.

"Well, unlike you, I'm not currently experiencing a break with reality, Boyscout. The most I was hoping for was being allowed to see Cassian again."

"Okay, that will happen, regardless of anything else," MacGvyer assured her, adamantly, before smiling warmly again. "But, I'm still going to figure something out for us."

Murdoc leaned their foreheads together, smirking.

"You're getting to be as crazy as me, in your own boyscout-y way."

"Nah, that's not a recent development," MacGyver countered, chuckling, before pulling Murdoc into a long kiss.

The kiss ended when Riley picked the lock on the door and stomped inside, deliberately making as much noise as she could with her boots.

"Riley!" MacGyver protested, a bit stunned.

"Matty told you not to take forever and you're about halfway there," she reminded him.

"Better start thinking fast, Boyscout," Murdoc told him, dryly.

"Yeaaahh, I'm getting that," MacGyver agreed, leading her out of the room.

3 P.M

Murdoc shifted uneasily in the back of the Phoenix jet. The local law had gotten trapped by the weather in a local bowling alley and Mason had disappeared. They'd waited an hour or so, for the officers to come back or some sign of their enemy, some word, but...nothing. Finally, Matty had decided they should just go back to Los Angeles.

They were going to leave Mason out there, somewhere, plotting Angus' death. Sure, Murdoc had decided not to kill the boyscout, but Angus' death was still hers. No one else could have it, certainly not some former Fibbie with a grudge against Daddy Mac. If Mason wanted to kill James MacGyver, Murdoc would allow that. It might even be better for Angus in the long run. Everything and everyone else was off-limits.

"Hey, relax," MacGyver coaxed, sitting next to her on the plane. "Everything will be fine. We'll work things out."

"I'm not worried," Murdoc retorted, frowning. "I can handle prison or anything else thrown at me. I just don't like leaving with Mason still out there."

"Me neither. My family life keeps getting more and more complicated. Now, we're all being hunted."

"Your problem is you're confusing 'family' with 'blood relative.' Trust me, sometimes, blood family is the worst! Being alone is better."

"That's lonely."

"Well, most normal people can do what you have and just build a family from scratch."

"Yeah, well, now my dad has put them in danger, too."

"Exactly my point, Boyscout. He keeps landing you in messes and we're walking away from this one. Have I mentioned I'm not a fan of that idea?"

"We're continuing the hunt, but I agree with Matty. I don't think he's there, anymore."

"I know!" Murdoc said, her voice rising. "How are you not frustrated by this? I just want my hands around his damn throat."

"Well, staying in Franklin wouldn't get that for you and even you would have a hard time finding leads in that weather," Matty scolded. "Anyway, you do not have dibs on Mason's hide, Murdoc."

Murdoc slumped down in her seat, pouting.

"Fine. So, what does happen now? Concerning myself."

"We're going back to the Phoenix and we're going to have a very long talk, most of which you are probably not going to enjoy."

"Oh, that's where you're wrong, Matilda. I always enjoy our conversations."

"I'm glad to hear it, Murdoc, because I have a lot to say to you."

"Oooo."

4 P.M.

Matty led Murdoc and her team to the conference room, surprised to hear voices coming from inside. She opened the door and a woman's voice emerged.

"I'm perfectly fine with waiting, I assure you. This situation is important."

"Oh, hell," Murdoc whispered, backing away. "You have company, Matilda. It might be best to lock me in an interrogation room for a bit."

"Why, Murdoc?" Matty asked, eyes narrowed.

"Murdoc? What's wrong?" MacGyver asked, surprised.

"Oh, nothing. It just might be awkward explaining me to a U.S. senator."

"Get inside, Murdoc," Matty ordered, curious about the assassin's almost fearful reaction.

"You know, you're quite merciless, when you want to be, Matilda," Murdoc scolded, walking behind them into the room.

"Who is that?" MacGyver whispered to Matty, as they entered the room.

His voice carried more than he intended and a stately, older woman turned on him in amusement.

"I'm Senator Rhonda Cabot. Who are you?"

"Angus MacGyver."

"Ah, Mason's target. This is getting a bit out of hand, Director Webber. Mason isn't just some terrorist. He's one of our own gone rogue."

"I know that. Senator, this is Murdoc. She's a felon, but she also saved Agent MacGyver's life and is now also a target for Mason."

Rhonda Cabot turned, intrigued, to look Murdoc over. Seeing her, her face went white.

"Denise?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly.

The Phoenix members all looked between Murdoc and Senator Cabot, wide-eyed and waiting.

"Hello, Aunt Ronnie," Murdoc greeted, with grim humor.

Rhonda strode over to Murdoc, studying her intently, before pulling her hand back and slapping her hard enough to rock her head to one side. She looked back at her, eyes blazing, only to be pulled into a fierce hug, ignoring the handcuffs that kept her hands bound behind her back.

"You're alive," Cabot whispered, her voice cracking slightly. "Dammit, Denise Cabot, how dare you let us think you were dead?!"

"Denise Cabot?" MacGyver repeated, arching his eyebrows, as Rhonda released Murdoc.

"Oh, hurray, you've found out my birth name," Murdoc drawled, with exaggerated cheer.

"Denise Cabot disappeared, shortly after turning sixteen," Matty explained to her team. "It was a huge scandal. People suspected kidnapping, but no ransom demand was ever received. They found some of her clothing and possessions near the ocean, stained with blood. She was thought dead, either murdered or by suicide."

"That's the real reason the army wouldn't take you in. You didn't fail a psych exam. They found out you were underage!" MacGyver realized.

"Hm. Fortunately, they didn't discover my actual identity. I was never more grateful for someone else's stupidity."

"Oh, man," MacGyver groaned.

"Well, if you didn't join the army, what have you been doing? How are you a felon?"

"I'm an assassin," Murdoc retorted, shrugging.

"An assassin?!" Rhonda thundered. "A young woman with your talents and intelligence and you became some ridiculous killer for hire?! Denise, that is an absolute waste of your potential!"

"Not to mention a waste of other people's lives," MacGyver countered, sharply.

"Not to mention I'm the best in the entire world."

Rhonda deflated.

"Of course, you're right, Mr. MacGyver," she agreed. "It's just...we had such high hopes for Denise."

"Ah, yes, my family's 'hopes.'"

"Was it wrong for us to be proud of you and to know you were capable of great things?" Rhonda protested.

"Possibly, but I really couldn't care less," Murdoc assured her.

"We'll talk more about this later. We've aired quite enough of our family laundry," Cabot decided.

"I'm afraid, Senator, that we've lost track of Mason..."

"His capture is to be your first priority!"

"Of course, it is!" Matty agreed, icily. "We actually were going to discuss what role Denise..."

"Murdoc, if you don't mind," she interrupted, rolling her eyes.

"...what role, if any, Murdoc is going to play in all of this. She has a debt to pay to society, but I'm not putting her in a cell to be a sitting duck for Mason."

"Why is Mason after my niece?"

"She's MacGyver's lover and Mason knows it. One attempt has already been made on Murdoc's life. She was badly beaten by some Organization men working with Mason. Things are getting more complicated."

"Beaten? Are you all right?" Cabot asked Murdoc, genuine concern warming her voice.

"Eh. Some busted ribs, some bruises, some unhappy kidneys," Murdoc rattled off, shrugging.

"So, your injuries might be worse than they appear," Cabot suggested, earning a huff of laughter from Murdoc.

"I doubt it, Auntie."

"But, they don't know that."

"Well. No. I suppose not," Murdoc admitted.

"Director Webber, we'll negotiate details and Denise will pay her debt. But, I want Murdoc declared officially dead."

"Absolutely not," Murdoc declared, her lips twisting in a feral grin.

"Why not?" Matty asked, surprised.

"Because it's who I am. My loves, my hates, even my few regrets are all MINE and belong to the identity I created for myself."

"Murdoc," MacGyver whispered, placing a hand on her arm. "You could come in from the cold."

"That's an interesting thought and one I'm willing to entertain, but not like that."

"Mac, Desi, take Murdoc to an interrogation room. I want to talk with the senator alone."

They obeyed. Desi dutifully cuffed Murdoc, leaving her hands bound by a chain to the table.

"Can we have a few minutes, Desi?" MacGyver pleaded.

"Sure. I'll be just outside. Scream if anything is wrong. So, don't do anything too interesting, okay?"

MacGyver just rolled his eyes, waiting for her to leave. When she was gone, he released Murdoc's cuffs and sat on her lap.

"Are you okay?"

"As fine as a spoiled, rich sociopath can be," Murdoc quipped, almost merrily, then softened. "I'm fine, Angus. I'm not going to fall apart, because my family finally ran into me."

Angus sighed, staring wryly into Murdoc's eyes, unfazed by the intense, indifferent gaze that hid her thoughts.

"You ran away at sixteen, wanting to kill someone. You made them think you were dead. That doesn't suggest a healthy, family environment."

"Mm. No. I wasn't a healthy kid, either, not mentally. They just didn't have the tools to cope with me."

"You sound like you're making excuses for them."

Murdoc tilted her head, studying her boy scout's expression. MacGyver was smiling, but there was a sad twist to his lips and a steady, challenging gleam in his brilliant, blue eyes. Murdoc huffed in amusement.

"I'm not, really. They've bought into all the tired, old dramas of those with old money. Expectations. Appearances. You have to toe the line and uphold the family name. Boring, really."

"Murdoc. How bad was it?"

"No physical abuse, but no real affection. I was rarely hugged or kissed. Daddy thought that made kids weak. Honestly, I barely ever saw them. I read somewhere that child sociopaths need unconditional love. Nothing in my family is unconditional."

"You researched sociopathy?" MacGyver asked, bemused.

"I needed to make sure I didn't make the same mistakes with my own son. There is a genetic element."

"Of course. I don't even know how you managed it. You were only sixteen and you managed to get away clean."

"Money. It really does make wheels turn. I had plenty stashed away, just hiding the money my grandparents gave me for Christmases and birthdays."

"Plenty?"

"Thousands. They weren't exactly warm, but they were generous."

MacGyver leaned in, kissing Murdoc. They were interrupted by a loud, sarcastic harumph.

"Mac. Get out of her lap," Matty instructed, walking over and sitting at the table. "We need to talk."

"Ah, dear Matilda, caught between the assassin and the senator."

"Funny, Murdoc. Actually, I have a question for you."

"Oh! Do ask!"

Murdoc leaned forward across the table, staring into Matty's eyes, silently impressed by the quality of her glare.

"Are you really going to turn down an opportunity to leave behind all of your legal problems, regain custody of your son, and openly be with your lover, just because you have issues with your family?"

"Issues?!" Murdoc hissed, her hands clenching into fists.

Matty leaned forward, too, going into lecture mode, her voice fine and biting.

"You're an adult! You don't have to go to Thanksgiving dinner, if you don't want to. They can't do anything to you, anymore, and you damn well know it. You don't want anything to do with them? Fine! That's not going to be part of this deal."

"Ha! Did you tell Auntie Ronnie that?"

Murdoc leaned back, smirking, fairly confident she had made her point. She admired Matilda for her strength and intelligence, but Rhonda Cabot had plenty of both herself, coupled with money and authority. Matilda surprised her, by smiling complacently, the faintest hint of understanding, maybe even compassion, in the curve of her lips.

"As a matter of fact, I made that very clear to her."

Eyes narrowed, Murdoc studied Matty, then shrugged.

"Well, she's obviously up to something."

"Given she's your auntie, yes, probably."

"No," Murdoc sighed.

"No what?"

"No, I'm not going to pass on all that just to snub The Fam. Though, I probably will give Thanksgiving dinner a pass."

"That's your choice, but it might be fun to go. Imagine the looks on their faces, if I show up with you and you get to explain how we met."

Murdoc twisted to face MacGyver, her eyes wide and her mouth opened, just a bit. MacGyver grinned, his expression full of mirth and innocence. Murdoc lasted a couple of seconds, but the laughter came bubbling out of her throat.

"Okay, it'd be worth it for that...and Auntie Ronnie's pies."

"Twenty years later and you remember her pies?" Matty asked, amused.

"Her pies are amazing, Matilda. So! How do you plan on pulling the Murdoc/Denise Cabot bait and switch?"

"Murdoc died from injuries she received, when rescuing MacGyver. Denise Cabot will be revealed as a long-standing member of the intelligence community, doing extensive undercover work."

"Brilliant, as always, dear Matilda. It's a shame there's no one to actually vouch for Denise Cabot or whatever aliases she's been using."

"Oh, come on, Murdoc. You have to have a few aliases that interacted with federal agents, over the years. I'm sure some of those interactions can be spun to look like the work of an undercover agent."

Murdoc hummed, tilting her head back and forth in exaggerated thought.

"Oh, fine. That'll work," she conceded, grumbling playfully.

"Good. So, you're good to go. And, Mac doesn't even need to uncuff you."

Matty gave MacGyver a sharp look, frowning slightly. He shrugged, running a hand across his hair, a bit embarrassed. They left the interrogation room and found Rhonda standing outside. She eyed Murdoc warily, biting her lip.

"Well?"

"Denise Cabot is back, hurray."

"And, will your family be seeing you around?"

Murdoc rolled her eyes, giving a sharp shrug.

"Yes, fine, on one condition. They're to know the truth. I'm not 'reforming,' at all, much less into a picture-perfect Cabot."

"You don't get to keep being an assassin!" Matilda countered, sharply.

"No, of course not. But, you did say I'm going to be in the intelligence community and hunting Mason. If you promise not to let me get bored, I promise to mostly behave myself."

"Try not to be too insubordinate," Rhonda advised, dryly. "I called your father, while Matty talked to you."

"Oooo, did you tell him the whole truth and nothing but the truth?"

"Did you think I lied to him?!"

"No, you're quite boringly honest."

"That's not a bad thing, Murdoc," MacGyver told her dryly.

"Whatever. What did Daddy Dearest have to say?"

"He wants to see you, of course, but he understands, if you refuse. We're all older and wiser, Denise. He does ask that you at least spend some time with your mother and brothers."

"You have brothers?" MacGyver asked, amazed.

"Oh, yeah. Twins: Michael and Gabriel--ten years younger than me. They were okay. I wouldn't mind seeing them, assuming Dad didn't ruin them."

"Oh, he didn't," Rhonda assured him. "Once you were gone, your mother put her foot down. Losing you was hard for her. She wasn't about to lose her boys, too."

"Hm. I think I'm a bit jealous."

"Go home, Denise. Introduce your boyfriend to your parents."

"Oh, we're saving that for Thanksgiving," Murdoc promised, grinning her creepiest grin. "But, sure, fine. We'll be around. Once, I've dealt with Mason."

"I don't think I'll be wanting the details," Rhonda observed, drily, reaching up and kissing Murdoc's cheek. She turned to MacGyver. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Try to keep her and yourself safe. Good-bye."

"We'll keep each other safe," MacGyver promised, placing a hand on Murdoc's hip, watching Rhonda nod and walk away.

"And, do I feel sorry for whoever has to clean up that mess!"

Matty shook her head.

"That will be no one, because it's my job to keep you from making messes."

MacGyver ignored the banter, turning and wrapping his arms around Murdoc's waist, being careful of her damaged ribs.

"Are you really okay or just faking it?"

"Mm. Matilda has a point. This gets me a lot of things I do want. The rest...I'll adjust to."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, go home, both of you. Mason isn't going to attack tonight and I need time to get Denise Cabot back into society. Take a couple of days of medical leave. I expect you to come back ready to work!"

"Yes, ma'am," MacGyver agreed.

"Technically, I don't have a home. I need to buy a house."

"Well, you'll just have to bunk with me, until then."

"Wanna watch Critters again?"

"Sure, why not?" MacGyver agreed, leading Murdoc away.