psifi872

negotiations revised

Sun, 07 Sep 2025 23:48:25 GMT

Loki watched as the portal opened over the skies of New York City. He felt a brief pang, as he watched the Chitauri fighters begin to emerge. New York hardly compared to an Asgardian city, but it was beautiful and he pitied the inhabitants. They were powerless, but, then, so were others. Loki firmed his resolve. This war was happening for a reason. He had to remain focused. Using the sceptre, Loki channeled the power of the tesseract and Selvig's machinery to open a smaller portal.

The Other emerged from the portal stepping onto Stark's balcony. A small, pink baby was held against his chest, with one arm. Loki gazed longingly at the tiny child, stepping forward, with his arms open. The Other stepped back, chuckling cruelly. Loki glared at him.

"Why have you come, if not to give me my child?" Loki demanded.

"We sense your thoughts, Asgardian. I came to remind you of the stakes you are playing for. You will conquer this pathetic planet and you will give us the tesseract."

"The tesseract is yours," Loki pointed out. "The humans don't have the power to close the portal. Give me my child, take your prize, and go."

"That was not our bargain," the Other denied. "If you no longer wish to rule, then we shall do so for you."

"The bargain was that I open the portal and you give me my child!" Loki shouted, desperate.

"You shall have your child, when your work here is done!" the Other insisted.

Loki blinked, feeling wetness gathering in his eyes. He swallowed back his emotions. A sign of weakness, of sentimental emotion, would be disastrous. The Chitauri scorned such attachments. Taking a deep breath, Loki gathered all the arrogance and command he had learned in the halls of Asgard, his voice resolute.

"You will give me my child or prove that you are without honor," Loki declared, voicing one of the worst insults amongst his people. "I have fulfilled my promises. It is time for you to fulfill yours."

The Other laughed, taking another step back.

"We care not for your notions of honor," he spat. "If I give you the child now, I will give you her corpse. If you want her alive, you will win this battle, Loki of Asgard. Do I need to be plainer?"

Loki's response was drowned out, as a giant, green humanoid dropped down between Loki and the Other, letting out a fierce roar so powerful that the Other staggered under the wind from it. Reaching out, the creature known as the Hulk plucked the infant from the arms of the stunned Other, with a dexterity surprising in one generally thought of as a brute. Loki gaped, as the Hulk placed the child in one arm, still growling at the Other.

The Other raised his hands, firing bolts of energy at the behemoth. Loki flinched, crying out raggedly, but Hulk merely turned his back, protecting the baby with his own bulk, which remained undamaged. The Other snarled. The Hulk turned around and backhanded the Other, sending him flying. He hit the wall of the balcony hard and fell forward onto his face. Staggering to his feet, the Other pulled a weapon from his robes, firing off more blasts. The Hulk took these with a roar, keeping them away from the child, who remained uninjured, though crying loudly.

"Die, you green monstrosity!" the Other hissed, aiming for the Hulk's eyes, hoping to find a vulnerable area.

"Ugly, dead-skin thing threaten baby. Make baby cry. Hulk not like!" Hulk roared.

Hulk took a gigantic step forward and swung his fist downward, on top of the Other's head. With a sick groan, the Other crumpled to the ground. Foolishly, he lifted his hands, firing off one last bolt at the Hulk. Sneering in contempt, the Hulk kicked out, lifting the Other up and hurtling him off of the balcony. Stepping back, the Hulk turned his attention to the child.

"Baby too loud!" he growled, though Loki was amazed to notice that the beast seemed to be trying to curb his own volume. "Baby hush now!"

"Sh-she can't. She's afraid and hungry," Loki pleaded, hoping the beast wouldn't turn on her.

"Baby not be afraid now," Hulk told her. "Dead-skin thing gone. Hulk protect."

"I have to close the portal or more "dead-skin things" will come through. Please, will you stay here with her? Please don't take her," Loki pleaded.

Hulk growled, radiating suspicion.

"I have no reason to help them, now that they don't have Ingeborg!"

The Hulk gave a huff of confusion, his eyebrows contracting in a manner Loki found both alarming and rather funny.

"The baby's name is Ingeborg," Loki explained.

"Bad name. Call Eeny. Puny horn-hat go stop dead-skins."

Loki sighed, obeying. He materialized next to the tesseract and was met by Eric Selvig, who grinned manically at him.

"Hey there! It's working...they're starting to come through!" Eric informed him joyfully.

Loki smiled, a bit amused at his human servant. Raising the scepter, Loki touched Selvig's chest and released him from the mind bondage.

"That's nice, Dr. Selvig, but I really need to shut the device off now. Things have changed."

Selvig stared at Loki in shock, trying to adjust to the abrupt shift in his reality. He watched as Loki turned the scepter on the portal, firing a blast of magic at it. The magic penetrated, but only slightly. The portal remained undamaged. Loki hissed in frustration.

"Push the scepter through to the tesseract," Selvig said, worried.

Loki whirled around, glaring at him. Selvig stepped back, his hands raised. He swallowed hard.

"I-I built in a fail-safe," he explained weakly.

Loki looked astonished, then turned back to the portal. He pushed the scepter through, until it just touched the tesseract, then released a bolt of magic. A sonic wave emerged from the portal, knocking Loki to the ground. He looked up, watching gloatingly as the portal closed, just as the tip of the large Chitauri mothership began to emerge. Loki laughed, giddy with relief. A hand appeared in front of him.

Looking to the side, Loki saw Selvig leaning down over him, his expression concerned and a bit fearful. Loki accepted the hand, but put no weight on it, standing easily. He released the human and shrugged.

"It's over, I think. The Avengers should be able to take care of the rest. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm needed elsewhere."

Loki teleported back to the balcony, using magic to bring the tesseract with him. The remaining Chitauri seemed focused on destroying the Avengers, perhaps with the idea of still conquering the Earth. Loki wished them luck, knowing they would have none. Their numbers were too small, particularly with Thor fighting them. He and Loki had defeated greater odds, before things went sour. The few Chitauri who came too close to the balcony were swatted out of the sky by the Hulk, who had laid Ingeborg inside, so his hands would be free. Loki sent a couple of blasts at the swarms, then headed indoors.

Loki found Ingeborg laying on a couple of cushions on the floor, crying fitfully for attention. Loki picked his daughter up, cradling her close and cooing softly. Tears finally fell from his eyes, as the stress and relief caught up to him. Loki kissed Ingeborg's cheeks and forehead, nuzzling softly. She stopped crying, snuffling.

"Are you hungry, sweetie?" Loki asked.

Loki went and sat at Stark's bar, using his magic to produce a bottle. He helped Ingeborg begin feeding, glad when she eagerly accepted the milk. Sigyn had given him a supply to leave with the Chitauri, though not really trusting them to care for their tiny hostage. Ingeborg suckled peacefully, as Loki sang to her.

The Hulk backed into the room, giving a last scream of defiance at the sky. He turned to Loki, starting at the sight of him feeding the child. He huffed, struggling with changing his view of Loki from enemy to Eeny's father. Walking close, the Hulk slumped down on the floor, his head still coming level with Loki's.

"Dead-skin things gone. Eeny and horn-hat safe now."

"Thank you," Loki told him, drawing another grunt of surprise from the Hulk. Loki reached out hesitantly, to touch the Hulk's shoulder.

"Oh, you can't be serious!" a voice interrupted, making Loki pull away abruptly, his arms tightening on his feeding infant. "Who gave this guy a kid?!"

"Eeny hungry! Metal man leave Eeny alone," Hulk rumbled.

Stark and the rest of Avengers walked forward, staring in shock.

"Uh, sure. No problem. Eeny can eat to heerrr? Yeah, her heart's content," Stark conceded, deciding it wasn't worth arguing with the Hulk over. The billionaire just wished Loki would stop looking at the green behemoth like they were best friends.

"Brother, what has happened? Selvig says you closed the portal and now possess the tesseract," Thor announced, torn between confusion and hope.

"Yes, well, my friend here rescued Ingeborg and freed me from the Chitauri," Loki explained, complacently, making Stark flinch. "So, I stopped the invasion, since it no longer served my interests."

"Hulk not friend. Hulk not have friends," Hulk rumbled.

"You do now. You're my friend and Eeny's friend," Loki told him.

Hulk seemed to consider this, then nodded slowly.

"Hulk be Eeny's friend," he agreed.

"Awww, I'm your friend, too," Stark protested.

"Metal man Banner's friend," Hulk disagreed.

"What, I can't be friends with both of you?" Tony complained.

"We have more important things to worry about," Steve interrupted. "SHIELD is going to want answers and to take Loki into custody, with the tesseract."

The Hulk hopped to his feet and roared in challenge.

"Leave puny horn-hat alone! Eeny need papa!"

"Yes and your people believe you need the tesseract. I have it, though, hidden away by magic. However, I have no real use for the tesseract. I will give it to Thor, in exchange for a pardon for my crimes. After all, I was coerced," Loki told them.

"Will you come home?" Thor asked.

Loki considered, looking over at the Hulk, who watched Thor suspiciously.

"No. I can't, not yet. No doubt Heimdall is reporting to Father about Ingeborg, but...I'm not ready. There are too few there, who would welcome me."

Thor swallowed, but chose not to press the matter. Loki seemed determined and the Hulk was looming over the younger prince in a decidedly defensive manner. Thor wondered if the Hulk had really considered the matter, given how little he could know of Loki. The creature certainly seemed more intelligent, and far more eloquent, than he had during their fight on the helicarrier. Perhaps, Hulk was being influenced by Banner or was taking a chance for Ingeborg's sake.

"Give me the tesseract, Brother," Thor agreed, nodding, taking the cube that Loki conjured.

"All right," Steve decided. "Stark, you and Hulk will stay here with Loki. The rest of us are going to SHIELD to deliver the tesseract and start the debriefings. Loki, just remember, the Avengers will make your stay on Earth very difficult, if you try anything."

"I'll keep that in mind, Captain Rogers," Loki assured him. "My continued presence on Earth will be peaceful."

"What does Earth have to offer you?" Stark asked bluntly.

"Well, I could start by helping to repair the damages to your city," Loki informed him, but his words had the tone of an opening bid.

"You want something," Tony deduced, his tone sharp.

"Of course, I do. The Chitauri might still come looking for me. I might need protection..."

"Hulk protect horn-hat and Eeny," Hulk shouted.

"Yes, of course," Loki agreed, smiling complacently. "We also need a place to live."

"You're joking," Stark stated, flatly, eyes wide. "You threw me out my own damn window."

"Well, yes, but you were a threat to my mission and Ingeborg's life depended on my winning," Loki reminded him. "The rude jokes didn't help, either."

Tony considered that, then nodded.

"Okay, fair enough. So, no conquering, no killing, and you help clean up New York. In exchange, you stay here and--figure yourself out. One problem though...no offense, big guy," Tony told the Hulk. "I offered to let Bruce stay here and he turned me down. How is Hulk gonna protect you and Eeny, if Bruce hightails it back to Calcutta?"

"Stupid Banner always try to control Hulk. Hulk hate Banner!"

"Oh, come now. I'm sure the three of us can come to an accord," Loki persuaded silkily. "Will you let me speak with him, please?"

"Hulk tired. Metal man watch over Eeny now," Hulk agreed, sitting on the floor.

Loki and Stark both watched, fascinated, as the Hulk transformed into Banner, green skin fading to pink. The shifting was only moderately less dramatic and painful than when the Hulk emerged and Loki winced a bit in sympathy. He smiled, when Banner lifted his head, groaning only a bit.

"Why do I have the feeling something strange happened?" Bruce asked roughly.

"A bit out of the ordinary, yeah," Tony agreed, laughing slightly. "You okay, buddy?"

"Sure. Why is Loki feeding a baby at your bar?"

"That's Eeny, his kid. Hulk rescued her and Loki switched sides, basically."

"Stark and I are hoping to persuade you to stay here," Loki told Bruce, smiling charmingly.

"Yeah, Hulk essentially signed up to be Loki and the kid's bodyguard," Stark added.

"Oh. Nice of him to consult me in that," Bruce chuckled bitterly.

Bruce started to stand, then sat back down abruptly, holding his pants together, awkwardly. He looked between the two other men and blushed, frowning. Loki smiled and waved his hand at Bruce. Bruce's clothes not only knit themselves back together, but changed, becoming finer. His trousers were now tighter and made from an expensive wool. Bruce's shirt remained a button down, but became purple silk, with light, gold embroidery at the cuffs and collar.

"Um. Thank you," Bruce said, politely, standing slowly.

"Wow, you have it bad, Reindeer Games," Stark teased, a bit impressed with the magic display. He wondered if he could coerce his new roommate into allowing some tests.

Loki rolled his eyes, but ignored him, otherwise.

"Dr. Banner, I would appreciate it, if you agreed to remain. I'm sure you would be of great value to Stark's scientific pursuits and it would comfort me to know that help was nearby, should the Chitauri return," Loki explained.

"Also, Loki has agreed to put Manhattan back together," Tony told Bruce, grinning. "Should be interesting to see, buddy."

"If I stay in one place, certain parties are going to find me," Bruce sighed.

"Nah, I've already warned Ross away from you," Tony boasted.

"Quite. Your staying here offers you protection, as well," Loki agreed. "After all, the U.S. Army is unlikely to attack as public a figure as Anthony Stark, Iron Man."

Bruce handed Loki a towel, then stroked a gentle finger across the side of Ingeborg's head.

"You should burp her. She'll get sick from the air on her stomach."

"Thank you," Loki agreed, shifting Ingeborg onto his shoulder and rubbing her back.

"Why do you really want me to stay?" Bruce asked Loki. "The other guy isn't exactly reliable and hopefully won't be around much, in any case."

"You two really do need to get along better," Loki told Bruce, a bit amused, but sympathetic. He placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "You saved my daughter, Dr. Banner. I would not have your reward for that be a life on the run. Besides, I find your form of magic fascinating."

"Magic?" Bruce asked, startled.

"You're a shape shifter," Loki reminded him reasonably.

"That's not...look, it's science, not magic," Bruce warned him, but Loki only laughed, shaking his head.

"The two aren't as different as you think. I think we three could teach each other quite a lot," Loki speculated.

Bruce and Tony both considered the possibilities and grinned.

"All right," Bruce conceded, laughing nervously. "I guess I'm staying. I hope we don't all regret this."

"We won't," Tony said confidently. "This is gonna be fun!"

It was, though all three men had second thoughts four years later, when Ingeborg insisted on joining her daddy, Uncle Bruce, and Uncle Tony in the labs for playtime. They didn't mind the fires, broken equipment, or tendency for random items to become bright colors. However, the men were not amused, when JARVIS suddenly took on the voice and personality of Mary Poppins.

comments

starwars/freddy crossover

Thu, 06 Feb 2025 01:07:01 GMT

Freddy lounged on the concrete floor, leaning against the boiler. The dreams of the citizens of Springwood were an irritating buzz at the base of his skull. He ignored them. Since Alice's death, at the nauseatingly ripe old age of eighty-nine, his prison had developed chinks large enough for him to escape...if he wanted. So far, he hadn't bothered.

Freddy sat up straighter, frustrated both by his own apathy and what he considered it's cause - the bland, wooly denizens of Springwood. He remembered when just thinking of Elm Street and it's suburbanite tenants would fill him with a hot, sweet rage. He would fill their self-satisfied dreams with screams of terror and bright, rich blood. He would show them what it meant to truly be alive...for the short time left before they died. Now...now he felt nothing, but a weary disgust. All of his victims looked and tasted the same. There was no challenge, no variety to weave into his dreams. What was a vicious killer of his caliber to do?

Perhaps...perhaps it was time to do something new. Something he hadn't anticipated doing for decades or centuries to come. Maybe...he should leave Springwood. Freddy restlessly tapped his claw on the damp concrete, creating idle sparks. The realm of dreams reached far through time and space and included hundreds of realities. He needn't stay in this paltry town or even on this tiny planet! Freddy hopped to his feet, finally feeling the old rush of anticipation. Yes! He would find a new place to scourge, new fears and souls to savor! Laughing cruelly, Freddy released the illusion of physical form to fling his putrid essence into the vastness of reality...to hunt.

Long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away...Freddy discovered a new playground.

Leia Organa-Solo looked at the body of the dead Senate guard, her face composed, but her eyes wells of sorrow. Luke Skywalker, Jedi knight and Rebellion hero, stood next to her, looking somber and confused.

"Doctor, this is the third mysterious death in as many weeks," Luke pointed out with determined authority. "You must have some clue to what caused them."

"Of course, I know what caused the deaths!" Doctor Delin Marsk protested. "I told you, Master Skywalker. Eliot Bruen died of multiple blaster shots. Moriadin died from choking and this poor man died of puncture wounds that pierced his heart and lungs. They have nothing in common!"

"They all died in their sleep," Leia countered quietly. "They were all experiencing terrible nightmares."

"Senator Organa-Solo, dreams do not kill people," the doctor snapped.

"I wouldn't be too sure," Luke warned. "The Force..."

"Are you suggesting a Sith is responsible? You supposedly killed the last of them," the doctor responded stiffly.

"My father vanquished the last known Sith," Luke countered calmly. "There are always those willing to serve the darkness."

"What, exactly, are you suggesting?" Doctor Marsk demanded.

"That you open your mind," Luke insisted. "How did Bruen die of multiple blaster shots? He was alone, sleeping, in a locked room. Moriadin died of choking on a lasaberry, a fruit not available on Coruscant at this time of year...not on his salary! Not to mention, he also was sleeping. Where did the fruit come from?"

"I don't know where he got lasaberries and I don't care. He must have gotten a snack and not swallowed properly. And assassins are paid to get into locked rooms, Master Skywalker!"

"He had no enemies," Leia protested.

"No known enemies," the doctor contradicted. "Obviously, someone took a dislike to him."

"Luke, let's go," Leia suggested. "We have the files on the victims. Let's start our investigation with them."

Luke nodded, sensing the doctor would be of no further help.

Leia walked down the rusted metal stairs, her face calm, but her heart beating wildly. She didn't need the Force to tell that she was being followed. Occasionally, she would hear a heavy footstep or a grating sound of metal on metal. Her stalker wanted her aware of him/her/it. Chains hung from the ceiling and a light moisture clung to everything, despite the heat. At the bottom of the stairs, Leia turned, presenting a facade of regal composure.

"Who's there?" she demanded.

A raspy, taunting chuckle floated in the air, then Leia was thrown back a few steps as a medium figure hurled into her, seeming to come up from the floor! Leia got a brief impression of muddy hazel eyes and a bald, badly scarred head, before the figure back-handed her and she found herself sprawled on the grime-coated concrete. Rolling swiftly away, Leia sprang to her feet. Backing a little further up, she studied the person in front of her.

A human-appearing male stood before her. Every feature she could see was covered in scars from terrible burns. He was dressed in dirty brown pants and a thick shirt striped red and green. On his head was a lumpy, much-worn brown hat. On one hand was a glove.

The glove alone told Leia that she would need her skills as a warrior, not a diplomat. Held together by a scrap of brown leather were four long blades. Light glinted on their edges and the corpse of Daniel Nasar was proof that they were sharp. This was the nightmare image that had haunted the senate guard for weeks before his death and that had driven him to seek help from Senator Organa-Solo and her Jedi brother.

"Who are you?" Leia inquired, her voice sharper than she wished.

His upper lip twisted in a sneer, the man bowed low.

"Freddy Krueger, your Hiiighness," he simpered mockingly, then rose again, chuckling deep and wet in his chest.

One wall disappeared and unnatural sunlight poured into the room. A group of children, all dressed in white, ran around a playground, singing:

"One, two, Freddy's coming for you,
Three, four, better lock your door,
Five, six, grab your crucifix,
Seven, eight, better stay up late,
Nine, ten, never sleep again!"

Freddy reinstated the wall, laughing harshly with delight.

"I, Princess," Freddy gloated, spitting her title," am the new source of terror in this galaxy!"

The man flung his arms wide, inviting her admiration. Leia did a mental check to see if she was carrying a weapon. The familiar feel of a lightsaber rested at her hip.

"Are you a Sith?" she asked, wondering if the Emperor had left behind a potential apprentice, in case his plans for Luke failed.

Freddy didn't answer and Leia thought she saw a brief look of puzzlement cross the thing's features.

"Where are you from?" she insisted, hoping to get some answers that might help her survive.

Freddy was suddenly standing close beside her, one hand on her shoulder. He leaned close, as if about to confide in her, his rotten breath hot against her cheek.

"Who gives a shit?" he whispered, his voice angry and impatient. He raised his left hand to deliver another blow, but Leia caught his arm and delivered a solid punch to his solar plexus. Freddy laughed, looking up at her with hateful eyes. Leia drew her lightsaber, igniting the blade. Freddy studied the weapon curiously.

"You can't stop me, Highness. No matter what little toy you use," he advised her, sneering.

"Really," Leia answered, taking nothing at face value.

Smiling happily, Freddy rushed at her, claw extended. Utterly calm, Leia ran the lightsaber back and forth, slicing off both of his arms and his head. She looked at the corpse, a feeling of dread anticipation choking her.

"Leia," Freddy's voice whispered from the air.

Leia looked up, startled, then back to the corpse...which was gone. Freddy stepped out from behind the boiler and spun around on the toes of one foot, chuckling.

"My last victim used a blaster on me," Freddy confided. "I just love the weaponry you people have invented!"

Leia released the 'saber and closed her eyes. This was just a dream and she knew the Force. She wasn't a Jedi, her training at a standstill, but she knew how to find her center, a place of calm. Fear was the darkside and this creature fed on it. She would not nourish him. In her mind, Leia pictured her favorite park on Alderaan. She invoked the little glen of trees with fragrant, blue-green leaves and felt a cool breeze caress her hair.

Opening her eyes, Leia grinned with delight. She'd done it. She sat down on a bench, where she used to study as a child, and breathed the clean, sweet air. Turning her head, she was surprised to see a small boy, staring sulkily at her. Leia moved over, smiling hesitantly.

"Would you like to sit down?"

"This isn't how it happens," the boy complained.

"I don't understand," Leia whispered, sensing something was wrong.

"You're supposed to be on the Death Star. You refuse to hand over some dangerous criminals and we die, because of you!" the boy shouted, crying.

Leia took a deep breath.

"That isn't true. Tarkin knew the Alliance wasn't here. He destroyed Alderaan out of spite and to spread fear."

The boy looked over his shoulder, gasping, and disappeared. Freddy stepped out from behind a tree.

"You helped kill this world," he goaded.

"No," Leia denied, keeping her face blank as pain lanced through her.

"You're not supposed to be here, Leia," Freddy crooned. "You're supposed to be...here!"

At the last shouted word, Leia found herself back on the Death Star - in the trash compactor! Hearing Freddy's vulgar chuckle, she looked up to see him standing in a wooden doorway that hadn't existed on the real Death Star.

"Time," Krueger intoned, "to take out the garbage!"

At a dramatic flick of Freddy's blades, the compactor walls began to move. Leia didn't waste time or words, but began rooting through the trash, looking for something to hold the walls apart. Finding a pipe, Leia began tugging it sideways, trying to line it up. Tripping, she fell to her knees, scraping them on debris. Leia looked at the blood, then the walls, beginning to panic.

"Leia," Luke's voice called out. "Leia, you must wake up!"

Leia came awake with a strangled cry. She was half-sitting, her brother's hands firm and reassuring on her shoulders.

"Luke," she gulped.

"I felt your distress in the Force. You were dreaming."

"You okay, Leia?" Han Solo asked, voice rough with worry.

"Yes, I think so," Leia sighed, then winced as her shifting brushed her knees against the sheets. She scrambled out of bed and placed one foot up on the mattress. Leia raised her nightgown, revealing an ugly cut and bruising on her knee.

"When'd you do that?" Han frowned, perplexed.

"On the Death Star," Leia murmured.

"You dreamed about him, didn't you? The man Daniel described," Luke prodded.

"Yes. His name is Freddy Krueger," Leia confirmed.

"You're saying you scraped your knees in a dream?" Han asked skeptically.

"Three men have died in these dreams, Han," Luke reproached mildly.

"How?" Leia demanded. "How is this thing able to kill people with dreams?"

Luke shook his head sadly.

"I don't know. I'm going to meditate and try to ask Ben and Father. Are you going to be able to sleep?"

"No," Leia laughed shakily. "I'm up. I think I'll just start my day."

"Princess, it's only a little after three!"

"I don't think Leia should sleep unless there is someone to watch her."

"I'm all right, Han, really. You go back to sleep. I'm wide awake anyway."

Leia followed her brother out of her bedroom.

"Do you want to come with me?" Luke offered softly.

"No," Leia responded, trying to keep her tone relaxed. "Why don't you wait? We could run through some Force exercises together."

"Leia, your training can't go any further right now. You have the ability to be a powerful Jedi, but you have to let go of your anger first."

"I can't just ignore everything he did to me, Luke," Leia responded flatly.

"I'm not asking you to forget, Leia. I'm asking you to forgive."

Luke kissed her cheek, then headed for his own apartment. Leia stood in the hallway for long moments, her mind awhirl with chagrin, indignation, anger, and sorrow. Leia had done her best to come to terms with her heritage. She had managed to release her hate and fear towards Vader, but anger still boiled in her. She couldn't completely forgive him and Luke refused to continue her training until she did. With a tired sigh, Leia headed towards her office.

Unwilling to hurt his father with thoughts of this latest argument with Leia, Luke decided to do some research on the Holonet before contacting Anakin and Obi-wan. Luke searched diligently for information on dreams and any references to a monster or demon named Krueger. Nothing showed up under that name and the information on dreams and dream states varied widely between humans and aliens and their different cultures. No one seemed to have a clear definition of what dreams actually were. The scientific explanations were scanty and vague at best. Luke felt mainly relief, when a knock on his door ended the search.

Luke opened the door to find his brother-in-law waiting.

"Come in, Han," Luke offered.

"Leia said you were going to talk to Kenobi and your father," Han asked, looking slightly uncomfortable. "They have anything to say?"

"I didn't talk to them. I tried a search on the Holonet, instead. I didn't find anything useful. No information on Freddy Krueger seems to exist. If he was ever human, I can't find a record of him. I can't even find a decent description of what dreams actually are."

"What I want to know is why Leia? Why is this guy targeting her?"

"I don't know, Han. I don't think it's personal, exactly. This thing lives in and on nightmares and, well, Leia has been through quite a lot. She has plenty of mental fodder for that sort of thing."

"And he can get to her anytime she goes to sleep?" Han questioned.

Luke nodded somberly.

"I'm afraid so."

"She can't just go without sleep, Luke!"

"I know. We'll watch her, Han. I do have a suggestion, but I'm not sure how well it will work...if at all."

"What's that?" Han asked warily.

"I want her to try and take a nap. You can watch her and I'll meditate. I want to see if I can use the Force to find a way into his dreamworld. If I can get in there, with some control, I might find a way to defeat him."

"Or you might just give him a path into your dreams," Han observed cynically.

"That's a risk," Luke agreed amiably.

Han ran a hand through his hair, nodding reluctantly.

"Okay, but I'm waking her up at the first sign of trouble and you be damn careful, Luke. You've got a lot of untapped trauma yourself, y'know?"

Luke nodded, smiling ruefully. Together they went to Leia's office and found her slumped in her chair, staring sightlessly at some papers.

"Getting a lot done, sis?" Luke teased gently.

"Not a lot," Leia admitted, smiling. "I keep thinking about my dream, about what it means. I had a lightsaber in my dream. I cut Krueger into four pieces with it...and he just came right back. How do you kill a dream?"

"I don't know. I've never heard of anything like this before. I have a plan of sorts. I want you to sleep with Han watching you. I'm going to try and use the Force to get into the dream and confront Freddy myself."

"Of sorts is right," Leia scoffed. "It'll all still be a dream, Luke. It just sounds too risky to me."

"Leia," Han disagreed. "Luke's plan may not be the best, but it's all we got right now. You gotta sleep sometime. Even if he doesn't immediately defeat Freddy, maybe he can learn more about him."

There it was again. Another reminder that Luke was a full Jedi, perhaps even a Master, while Leia's anger was blocking her own training and ascension. Leia took a calming breath, releasing her frustration. The real problem was she didn't want to risk Luke. Scary as Krueger was, she'd rather face him alone than see her brother burdened by this nightmare. Conceding the illogic of her desires, she nodded.

"All right. Let's try."

Leia walked over to her couch and stretched out, while Han pulled a chair up next to her. Luke smiled tenderly at the sight, then sank into the chair at Leia's desk and closed his eyes. Leia watched him sink into his trance, then closed her own eyes. She honestly was ready for a nap and sleep came all too easily.

Leia found herself back in the boiler room. Freddy sat on the steps, lounging and sneering.

"Welcome back, Princess."

(Luke!) Leia gave a mental cry. (Luke, are you there?)

"He can't help you, Princess!" Freddy gloated. "I control all the doors in my dreams, not your goody-good brother or some over-tapped energy field, either!"

Leia frowned, dismayed that Krueger had known what she was doing. She could sense Luke's presence, but it was dim and seemed far away. A pounding began, making everything in the dream shake and distort briefly.

"Little pig, little pig, let me in. Not by the hair on my chinny, chin, chin!" Freddy screamed, laughing wildly, jumping to his feet. "Try again, Jedi! Go on, I dare ya!"

Nothing further happened. Leia could no longer sense her brother and she had the feeling he had lost his trance-state. Freddy walked towards her.

"I know about you, now, Princess. I know all about the Jedi and the Sith. Pooor Princess," Freddy crooned. "No more Jedi left to keep the wolves at bay! Brother didn't have much luck! Too bad your daddy isn't around! But, then, he wasn't much use to you when he was!"

A harsh, mechanical breathing filled the air and Leia turned, feeling a cold dread. Darth Vader stood behind her, the fire from the boiler glowing red against the black plastoid of his suit. A lightsaber was in his hand, waiting to be ignited.

"Darth Vader is dead," Leia whispered, reminding herself. "He ceased to exist right before Anakin Skywalker died."

"You never really believed that," Freddy mused. "Here, I can make things end much differently. Kill her!"

A low rumble of laughter echoing in his throat, Freddy moved to get a good view. He'd never witnessed a lightsaber death and was hoping for lots of blood...but the image of Vader didn't move. Freddy used his power to goad the image, wondering why it wasn't responding.

"I said, KILL HER!" he demanded angrily.

"No," Vader intoned, then the mechanical sound of breathing faded to normal human levels.

Leia and Freddy both stared at the figure in shock. Light swept over the figure of Vader, turning the black suit to gold, then the suit and Vader were both gone. A young man, strongly resembling Luke, stood before them. He had Luke's eyes and a wild mane of curly, dark blond hair. He was handsome and striking, with Vader's height. He wore the robes of a Jedi and a lightsaber was still in his hand.

"Father," Leia whispered.

"You can't be here," Freddy hissed, no trace of laughter remaining. "This is my dream!"

"You opened the door, Freddy," Anakin responded calmly. "You summoned Vader and I am all that is left of him."

Freddy glowered, hating the calm warrior, who had relinquished what Freddy craved.

"Then you can watch the little bitch die!"

Freddy reached forward to grab Leia, but Anakin moved with the speed of a Jedi, igniting his lightsaber and placing himself in front of his daughter. As Freddy's claw reached them, Anakin sliced off his arm at the shoulder. Freddy backed up, shaking his head.

"It ain't that easy, Jedi!" He spat, moving his shoulder and bringing back his arm.

"That doesn't work," Leia scolded impatiently.

"It buys time," Anakin corrected gently.

Leia felt a gentle pulling and the dream disappeared. She found herself in a whirl of vague green and blue, heard Freddy howl with rage.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"In the Force, a place between life and death. Leia, I can't keep Freddy out for long. You're still dreaming and his power here is strong."

"Is he a Sith?" Leia demanded.

"No. He's evil, but not Force-sensitive. I'm not sure what his connection to dreams is, how he controls them. I'll need to go deep into the Force and see if I can find some answers."

"And what should I do?" Leia demanded, growing angry.

"For now, the best thing you can do is wake up and stay awake as much as you can. Don't sleep for longer than an hour...less if you can manage it."

"I can't just not sleep and wait for you to fix things," Leia scoffed.

Anakin sighed, eyes sad.

"Leia, I know you have good reasons to not trust me. I know I've hurt you, but I'm no longer Darth Vader. That person is gone..."

"I know. I've listened to Luke and I do trust him. That's not the point..." Leia broke off as the blue faded to red and she heard Freddy calling her name.

"We can argue later," Anakin sighed. "Right now, you have to wake up."

Leia started as the ground shook.

"He's coming!" she warned.

"Leia, wake up now!" her father insisted his voice stern.

Leia sat straight up on the couch, crying out softly. Han's hand was halfway to her shoulder and he looked concerned.

"You okay, Leia? You were starting to toss a bit."

"I'm fine."

Luke came over, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, Leia. You were right. We risked you for nothing."

"Well, it wasn't a complete loss," Leia admitted reluctantly. "Freddy tried to use an image of Vader to shake me. He was going to use that dream image to kill me."

"Leia..." Luke protested softly.

"Father showed up instead. The image of Vader was gone and I saw the man you saw at the celebration on Endor. Only it wasn't a ghost, he seemed real. Somehow, Freddy's use of Vader's form gave him a door into Freddy's dream."

"You're sure it was really Father?" Luke prodded.

"I'm sure," Leia affirmed. "He got me out of the dream long enough for me to wake up. He said he's going to go deep into the Force and try to find some answers about Freddy. In the meantime, he wants me to stay awake as much as possible."

Luke nodded firmly.

"I agree..."

"Oh, you would," she snapped irritably.

"Leia," Luke soothed. "What is it? You said yourself that Father got you out...that he helped you."

"Luke, try to understand. I'm still coping with the fact that the man who was Darth Vader was also my biological father. That isn't easy for me. Now, on top of that, I'm having to rely on him to battle this crazy dream demon!"

"And you don't like having to rely on anyone," Han pointed out, almost amused.

Leia took a deep breath.

"I don't like being helpless or not having options."

Luke kept silent, his eyes resigned.

The spirit of Anakin Skywalker watched the exchange between his children, his heart heavy.

"She will overcome her own darkness, in time, Anakin," a gentle voice assured him. "You sense this as well as I. It's only a matter of time."

"I don't blame her," Anakin pointed out. "I can't. I earned every bit of animosity in her."

"Darth Vader did that," Obi-wan corrected. "And you had the strength and love to renounce him."

Anakin looked at his old master and dear friend, smiling gratefully.

"Thank you, Obi-wan," Anakin acknowledged. "You're right and I have work to do. I just hope I can find an answer for her. She can't stay awake more than a few days."

"She's your daughter and very strong. It will be enough."

Anakin placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, then reached out, merging deeply with the Force. Time didn't exist in the realm of the Force, so Anakin was unaware of any passing. He searched calmly, following the trace he had picked up from Freddy, the back trail of his path through the Force. His searched ended with a gentle tug. Opening his eyes, he found himself in a beautiful meadow, that reminded him of Naboo. Wildflowers grew in profusion under a gentle sun.

"Hello, Anakin Skywalker," a soft, feminine voice greeted.

Anakin turned and saw two young women. One was brunette, with a white streak running down one side of her hair. The other had strawberry blond hair, yet at times an after image of great age appeared over her. Anakin smiled, instantly liking them.

"Hello," he responded. "Where is this?"

"The antithesis of Freddy's nightmare world. This is a wonderful dream to balance his evil. My name is Alice and this is Nancy. We sensed that Freddy had moved on, but we didn't know where, until we felt you looking for him."

"You're his enemies," Anakin deduced.

"I was his jailor for over eighty years," Alice agreed.

"Freddy is from our world, Anakin, and our town. We'll show you his story and ours," Nancy offered. Anakin felt a soft brush on his mind and opened himself to what they offered. Bleak images flooded his mind as he learned of the horror Freddy had created and the valiant deeds that had led to his imprisonment. Anakin sighed sadly at the pain and waste.

"Your actions were worthy of a Jedi," he granted.

The girls smiled, blushing at the compliment.

"I know of no one who has your power, Alice," Anakin observed. "I need another way to defeat Freddy."

"We don't know," Alice admitted. "Nothing else we tried worked. He used me to learn how to bring victims to himself, then used my son to return to the dreamworld. Once Jacob was born, I was able to keep Freddy trapped. From here, though, I can't do that anymore."

Anakin nodded.

"We'll help anyway we can," Nancy offered kindly. "You can come here anytime, now that you know the way. We can follow you back, so we can watch over you."

"It's not me. I'm one with the Force, similar to you. Freddy is attacking my daughter...and probably others, too."

"He can be defeated, Anakin," Alice assured him. "Show us a path to your place and time."

Anakin sent his being towards home, and felt the wonderful dream following him. He found himself standing in front of Obi-wan and shrugged.

"I found some answers and some help," Anakin released his knowledge into the Force, letting others know what was happening.

"Disturbing answers, Anakin," Obi-wan mused. "You'd better tell Luke."

Anakin agreed, leaving to talk with his son.

Luke sat beside his sister, holding her hand.

"Father says for now, you have to remain awake," Luke informed her gently, revealing what their father discovered..

"These girls," Leia sighed. "They're positive he can't be killed?"

"He's already dead, Leia," Luke sympathized.

Leia got up, pacing, nodding impatiently.

"Then I'm doomed. I can't stay awake much longer, Luke! Sooner or later, you're not going to be able to wake me up from these naps I'm taking!"

"You aren't doomed! Don't talk like that," Luke reproached.

"I...I'm sorry, Luke. I'm just so...weary of all this," Leia apologized.

"Father and I will find a way to defeat Krueger," Luke assured her implacably.

"Oh, don't start, Luke. I am too tired to deal with Father right now," Leia complained.

"I wish I knew how to help you past this. You're a loving, compassionate woman, Leia. I don't understand why you find it so hard to forgive him."

"No," Leia informed him flatly. "You don't understand. In a way, I don't even want you to. I don't want you taking blame for something he did."

"Tell me, Leia," Luke urged. "Explain it to me, then."

"I knew Vader years before you encountered him on the first Death Star, Luke, and he either didn't know or didn't care that we were related. You fought one battle against him and he knew who you were and was combing the galaxy to bring you to his side. I know he hurt you, Luke, and I'm not down-playing that, but basically, he wanted a relationship with you, his Force strong son. He threw over the Empire for you!"

"He did it for us, Leia!"

"Mostly I'm grateful that he never tried to turn me to the darkside, Luke," Leia continued. "But, he never offered. I guess I just wasn't strong enough...or male enough."

"Leia, he didn't know you were his daughter, until I accidentally revealed it on the second Death Star!" Luke protested.

"Really? He could tell you were his son, but not that I was his daughter? I find that difficult to believe, Luke. It just doesn't make sense to me. I'm trying to forgive him, Luke. I am, but it just isn't simple. Can we please drop this now? Let me deal with it in my own way," Leia pleaded.

Luke nodded, his heart heavy with sorrow for both his father and sister.

Han tucked Leia into bed, sitting up against the pillows over her.

"You okay, sweetheart?" he asked tenderly.

"I'm fine, Han. I'm just tired. Let me sleep until you see me start to dream rough, okay?"

Han nodded reluctantly.

"Okay, but one twitch and I'm waking you up."

Leia nodded silently, relaxing into sleep. She found herself in the meadow that Luke had described as a wonderful dream. Her father stood there alone, his eyes sad and tear stains on his cheek.

"Leia...we need to talk. We can't stay here long, but Nancy and Alice managed to guide you here long enough for us to speak. I...well, I owe you several explanations, but I wanted to explain to you what you discussed with Luke."

Leia sighed, then nodded miserably.

"Fine. I'm not sure what good it can do, but go ahead."

"Leia, when I fought Luke over the first Death Star, I sensed a young man, strong in the Force...and I was very willing to kill him. I had no idea that he was my son. I believed that my child had died with my wife in childbirth. I only found out he was my son after the Battle of Hoth, because of his name. Skywalker is not a common surname in the galaxy and the Emperor himself told me that Luke was my son. I was elated. I had a part of her back and, yes, I wanted him to join me. I didn't know that she was pregnant with twins, so I didn't know to look for a second child."

"I thought you knew through the Force that he was your son. He kept saying he could sense your presence and that you could feel him."

"Once he started his training and made his mark in the Force, yes, I could detect and recognize him...as an individual. But, that didn't give me any information that he did not possess. I knew of our connection before he did. He told you the truth, Leia. I only found out about our relationship, when he reached to you through the Force at Endor," Anakin explained, then smiled ruefully. "And, bringing you to the darkside was pretty much my first thought."

Leia sighed, feeling a knot of hurt relaxing in her. Anakin saw her softening and placed his hands on her shoulders, tilting her face to look directly at him.

"I am very proud of you, Leia. You might have accomplished different things, but you have done as much, if not more, than your brother. You have fought for justice and goodness, since you were in your teens. How could I fail to be proud of you? I love you very much, my daughter."

Leia's breath hitched and a tear rolled down her cheek.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, holding her father's warm gaze. "I tried to let go of the anger and mostly I did, but I just couldn't get past that last bit of hurt."

Anakin smiled sadly, wiping away the tear, then kissing her forehead. She leaned into him, allowing him to hug her for the first time...just as the dream faded into Freddy's nightmare.

"Time's up!" Freddy crowed.

Anakin turned, so that Leia was behind him, pushing his feelings into the Force to be dealt with later.

"Krueger," he greeted politely.

"I see you found the bitches," Freddy observed conversationally. "Not much help were they? All that Force strength...but you don't have Alice's power!"

"I don't need her power. You have a weakness, Krueger. I just have to find it," Anakin stated bluntly.

Freddy shook his head, smirking. A blast of hot air formed against Leia's back. Turning she saw a long corridor...that opened over a river of lava! She clung to Anakin's back, feeling the floor begin to tilt down.

"Father," she warned.

Anakin looked down, his expression grim. He turned back into the room, looking for something to hang onto, but all of the chains, the boiler, and the stairs were gone. Nothing was in front of them, but a smooth wall.

"Maybe I can turn Leia to the darkside, Anakin!" Freddy's disembodied voice taunted. "Hell, it worked on you!"

The floor pitched wildly, sending Leia to the floor. Anakin grabbed her hands and tried to brace himself against the wall.

"Leia, wake up! You have to wake up now, child!"

"I can't! Father, I'm too tired!"

Anakin watched, as the corridor began to shorten, bringing them closer to the flames. Leia tried to stand, but there was no room.

(LUKE! HAN! YOU MUST WAKE LEIA!) Anakin screamed into the Force.

"FATHER!" Leia cried, as she began to fall towards the lava.

Anakin slid an arm around her shoulders, trying to use the strength in his legs to move them further back in the corridor. Leia pushed forward, trying to help, but the last of the corridor disappeared, sending them plummeting! Leia screamed.

She landed hard on her bedroom floor..with her father beside her. Leia jumped to her feet, ready to run or fight.

"Leia?" Anakin addressed her, climbing to his feet.

"Sweetheart? What happened?" Han asked.

Leia looked up. Her husband was on his knees, over her side of the bed. She looked between her husband and father, unable to tell if she was still asleep. Her bedroom door opened and Luke stepped in, gazing around with wide eyes. He looked at Anakin, puzzled.

"Father?" he inquired hesitantly.

Anakin grinned, nodding. Luke came over and hugged Anakin, hard. Deeply confused, Leia probed the men around her with the Force, sensing that she was indeed surrounded by her family.

"I don't understand," Leia mused. "If I'm awake, how can Father be here?"

"Yeah, how did you do that? Han agreed. "I was trying to wake Leia up, then suddenly she pitched off the bed. When she hit the floor, you appeared beside her."

"I don't know," Anakin confessed.

"But, you are alive, right?" Luke insisted.

Anakin grinned crookedly, for one odd moment resembling Han.

"Evidently," he concurred.

"Why do you look like you're the same age as your kids?" Han asked sardonically.

"That's a good question," Anakin conceded. "Obi-wan!"

Obi-wan materialized in the room, answering his pupil's call.

"You look this way, because this is how you appeared in the dreamworld. Two young ladies spoke with me. They wanted me to remind you of how Nancy ended up with Freddy's hat," Obi-wan instructed with dry amusement.

"You make even less sense dead than you did alive," Han observed rudely.

"Han," Luke protested, but Anakin and Obi-wan laughed.

"Perfect sense he makes, to those who are listening," Yoda scolded, appearing next to Obi-wan.

"Who is Nancy and why do we care how she stole a hat?" Han demanded.

"Nancy is one of Freddy's enemies from his homeworld," Luke reminded him.

"They were fighting," Anakin recalled. "She grabbed at him, catching his hat, just as she woke up. When she did, the hat was still in her hand."

"I pulled you out of my dream the same way," Leia reflected.

"The will of the Force, this is," Yoda decreed. "Work to do, your father still has."

"Well, the first thing I have to do is help defeat Freddy!"

"Speaking of fighting Freddy," Luke spoke somberly. "Leia isn't his only current victim. I got a call from an orderly at the med center. A Senator's aide is being brought to Dr. Marsk. She's been suffering from nightmares and told people they were real."

"Sith," Leia swore uncharacteristically. "Marsk will sedate her!"

"We can't allow that," Anakin declared.

"Hurry, you must," Yoda urged. "No more victims must Krueger acquire. Rich this universe is with fear. A danger he could become to all worlds."

Screams echoed down the corridors of the med center, leading Anakin and the others to an exam room. Security stood aside for Senator Organa-Solo and her companions. Marsk was leaning over a pale, blond woman, whose tear-stained face was red with panic. A hypodermic needle leapt across the room from Marsk's hand to Anakin's. Marsk whirled.

"Excuse me!" she fumed, glaring at Luke. "You can't be in here! Give me the sedative."

"You don't need this," Anakin informed her calmly, holding up the syringe.

"Who the Sith are you?" Marsk demanded.

"My name is Anakin Skywalker and this woman is under my protection."

"This woman is my patient," Marsk corrected stiffly.

"She isn't ill," Anakin countered, walking to the woman's side.

"She's suffering from delusions!"

"She's under attack from a very powerful evil," Anakin disagreed, then used the Force, suggesting, "You are busy and have other patients to see."

"Fine. I'm busy and have other patients to see," Marsk snapped.

Anakin turned to the Senator's aide and sat beside her.

"What's your name?" he asked gently.

"Linsa Raylen," she whispered. "Who are you?"

"Anakin Skywalker. I'm a Jedi," Anakin revealed. "You're not insane, Linsa. Freddy is real."

Linsa smiled shakily, running a hand over her eyes.

"I'm so tired," she sighed.

"I know," Anakin assured her. "I am going to protect you."

"How?" Linsa persisted. "He can't be hurt! I've tried! I tried everything I could think of, every weapon! Finally, I just quit sleeping."

Leia and Luke watched with a certain awe as their father calmed and soothed the innocent woman. Both were amazed at the gentle kindness he was projecting.

"You're going to come with us. Leia, may she stay with you?" Anakin asked.

Leia looked up from where she was brooding against the wall and blinked.

"Um, yes, of course."

"Come," Anakin beckoned softly.

Luke watched in amazement as Linsa smiled gratefully and obeyed. Anakin herded her gently past his family, then paused. Leia leaned back against the wall, frowning at the floor.

"Leia? What's wrong?" her father asked concerned.

"We're missing something," she complained. "There's an answer right in front of me...and I can't see it!"

"Come on," he coaxed.

Leia nodded and followed him out. She stayed deep in thought on the way back to her apartment. Anakin asked Han to watch Linsa, so she could take a brief nap. Leia then pulled her father and brother into her office.

"Leia, what are you thinking?" Luke probed.

"I'm not sure. The biggest problem with fighting Freddy is he's already dead, right?"

"Yes and that he can manipulate the dream world in his favor," Anakin agreed.

"Yes, but you were dead, too, and now you aren't. You're alive and not immortal?"

"No, I'm not immortal," Anakin conceded, amused.

"So, we could pull Freddy out of the dream and he'd be vulnerable!"

"Wait," Luke interrupted. "Nancy pulled him out, already, but he still came back."

"Yes, but she turned her back on him...to take his power away. She pulled him into the waking world, but used a dream method to fight him!"

"All right," Anakin inquired. "So, we pull him out and...what?"

"Kill him," Leia offered, flatly. "I think bringing him out of the dream might make him mortal again. And...maybe Nancy and Alice can block his nightmare world long enough for the darkside to claim his soul."

"The idea does have merit," Obi-wan observed, materializing near Anakin. "The ladies from the other dream are willing to attempt it."

"We can't pull him out, then just murder him," Luke objected.

"I think once he appears in the waking world that Freddy will attack...and make his death necessary," Obi-wan countered sadly.

Luke nodded, asking, "Who will bring Freddy out?"

"I will," Anakin answered firmly. "I'm the least tired."

"I'm going with you," Leia insisted. "We don't even know if you have access to the nightmare anymore. If you do, I can provide a distraction."

Anakin sighed, but didn't argue.

"All right, now we just have to sleep."

"Anakin can sleep on the couch in your bedroom, while you are in the bed. That way, we know where Freddy will show up, if you succeed," Luke pointed out.

They made their way to the bedroom and Obi-wan merged into the Force to help Nancy and Alice prepare.

Luke sat in a chair halfway between his father and sister, his lightsaber ready.

"One of us will call out to you with the Force, when we have hold of Freddy," Anakin instructed.

"I'm ready, Father," Luke assured him.

Anakin looked around, a bit disappointed. The dreamscape was of the training grounds in the old Jedi Temple. He looked around slowly, remembering with bittersweet fondness the many hours he had spent sparring with Obi-wan in this place. Something tugged at his attention and he looked around cautiously...then noticed that the patterns on the floor were red and green...not the blue and gold of the actual temple.

He heard a hard laugh and turned to see Freddy standing off to the side.

"Now, we can play, Jedi," Freddy mocked.

Hoping to buy time, Anakin drew his lightsaber. Freddy laughed.

"You Jedi are fond of that little toy, ain't ya? I've got a weapon of my own, Anakin!" Freddy bragged.

"A steel claw is no match for a lightsaber...or the Force," Anakin warned.

"Nooo? How about this then!" Freddy sneered. He flicked out his blades...and each of the steel blades began to glow, now mini-lightsabers. Freddy waved his fingers proudly, admiring the red and greed blades. "Now, let's see if I'm a match for a Jedi!"

Freddy attacked, waving the glove back and forth, then slashing at Anakin, who ignited his own lightsaber and reflected the deadly glove. Freddy laughed deeply, then disappeared. Anakin stood still, closing his eyes. He could still feel Freddy's presence and the monster's intent to attack. He spun abruptly to his right, hearing the sudden whine of Freddy's lightsaber glove, and brought up his own weapon. The blades clashed.

Anakin used the Force to push Freddy back a bit. Freddy charged in, the glove held high, then abruptly ducked down and tried to sweep his blades through the Jedi's ankles. Hopping over the blades, Anakin kicked him in the jaw, sending Freddy reeling back. Freddy leapt to his feet again, his ugly laugh a wet rumble in his throat. Edging closer to Anakin, Krueger tried to find a way to reach him.

Anakin held his lightsaber ready, waiting for Freddy to move closer again. A sneer twisted Freddy's malignant features. He pointed the blades at Anakin one by one, then they all shot out, growing impossibly long, heading for Anakin's head! Anakin swerved, bending over backward and slashing up with his lightsaber to deflect the longer blades.

(Leia!) he called mentally. (If you're here, now would be a good time!)

Freddy looked at his glove with delight, then crowed, "Hey, Anakin! Look what I can do!"

To Anakin's horror, the blades on Freddy's glove began to twist and writhe, circling around each other, then going off in different directions. Freddy aimed them at Anakin and the blades struck at him independently, contorting into wild shapes and making random attacks from the front and sides! Anakin backed away, swinging his lightsaber around, barely deflecting some of the bolder thrusts. Seeing Leia behind the monster, Anakin reached out, swirling his lightsaber in and around Freddy's blades. His lightsaber was twisted around the red and green lightsabers as if they were strands of pasta.

Leia edged in closer. Freddy whirled, grinning. The lightsaber blades disappeared and he flicked out his normal, favorite blades.

"Welcome back, Princess! Game's over!" Freddy bragged.

Letting his own lightsaber go, Anakin took advantage of the distraction to catch Freddy in a headlock, wrapping his arms up under Freddy's limbs and over his neck.

(LUKE! WAKE US UP NOW!) he called out through the Force, ignoring Freddy's twisting and snarling.

With a sharp tug, Anakin found himself back on the couch. Freddy was no where in sight, but Leia was sitting up in bed.

"Where is he?" she inquired anxiously.

"Right here, bitch!" Freddy answered, coming out from under the bed, on the opposite side of Anakin and Luke.

Leia rolled swiftly away, landing on the floor. She stayed down, giving Luke and her father room to deal with Freddy. Freddy laughed, derisively.

"This has been done, ya know?" Freddy pointed out.

"Yes, we know," Luke answered calmly.

"You want some, brat?" Freddy offered harshly.

He leapt at Luke, bringing his claw down hard towards the younger Jedi's throat. Luke remained calm, igniting his lightsaber and bringing it up in a smooth, firm arch that caught Freddy in the middle of his chest. Freddy fell, his eyes wide with shock. Leia stood up slowly, watching as Freddy struggled and failed to stand.

"No," he croaked, blood spilling from his mouth.

Three distinct lights emerged from the wound and the awareness went out of Freddy's eyes. Anakin and his children gazed down at the fallen monster, sensing the hasty retreat of his life force. An anguished howl came from no known place. Obi-wan appeared, smiling gently.

"Well, done, all of you. Freddy is gone. He was unable to retreat to his nightmare and the darkside has claimed him."

Leia sighed deeply.

"It's safe to sleep?" she asked, wanting to be sure.

"Yes," Anakin answered, sure of the answer. "It's safe."

Leia studied her father's face for a brief moment, then gave him a strong hug.

"Welcome home, Father."

Anakin grinned with delight, then held out an arm for Luke.

Anakin watched Han Solo walk across the outside of his ship. The man was engaged in the continual repairs and improvement that went into maintaining the Millennium Falcon as one of the fastest ships in the galaxy. Anakin picked up a quarkdriver and held it out to his son-in-law. Han paused, then took the tool.

"Thanks," he offered.

"You're welcome," Anakin answered. "Han...I am sorry."

Han looked at him, blinking.

"For what happened...what I did to you on Bespin. I want to apologize."

"Yeah. Kind of a crummy way to try and get your kid back," Han criticized, roughly.

"I know," Anakin admitted. "I'm not going to make excuses."

"Right," Han agreed, nodding decisively, then hesitated, before shrugging and going back to his repairs.

"I have a lot of atoning to do," Anakin mused, mostly to himself.

"Good luck with that," Han scoffed, lightly. "I admit, I have a hard time with the idea that you and Vader are really two different people. But, I feel that way about most of that Force stuff."

"Well...that isn't entirely true, either," Anakin admitted. "Becoming a Sith changes you, yes, but Anakin...I made the decision to become a Sith."

"Look, I don't want you to try and atone to me, okay?" Han complained. "And, I certainly don't want to make things harder on the kid...or on Leia, since they've both forgiven you."

Han tossed the quarkdriver aside and Anakin silently handed him a laser caliper. Han accepted it, frowning heavily.

"AND. I don't need the Force to tell me that holding a grudge is like constantly swallowing poison, either."

"You don't seem to like the Force very much."

"A cosmic energy force that gives some people weird powers and fuels some great battle between good and evil and controls stuff? Yeah, no, I don't like that."

Anakin considered that, then nodded.

"That's fair, but the Force doesn't rob anyone of free will. If it did, Jedi couldn't become Sith, much less Sith turn back into Jedi."

"I'll take your word for it," Han muttered, focusing on his repairs.

Anakin watched the repairs, absorbed by the steady, familiar work. The creation and repair of machinery had always soothed and fascinated him. Han shut down the laser caliper with a deep sigh.

"Same guy or not, you sure don't seem like Vader, anymore," Han reluctantly admitted.

"I don't want to be that person anymore," Anakin said, sadly.

"So, don't be," Han advised with brutal practicality, holding out his hand.

Anakin smiled, warmly, shaking the offered hand. Leia watched from the apartment as her husband and father made peace. A better time was dawning, both for her family and the galaxy.

comments

max fic

Thu, 03 Feb 2022 01:02:15 GMT

Author's note: All alien languages are conveniently translated into idiomatic English, for the comfort and entertainment of the reader. You're welcome. Also, I tweak the Star Trek timeline a bit, because three years is incredibly fast for a recovery from the Eugenics Wars.

Aver Gaque hummed happily, as he strolled down the corridors of his spaceship. Ahhh, he loved history. A hard snap, followed by cursing, interrupted Aver's pleasant musings. Shaking his head, Aver approached the forcefield separating him from his upset...guest. Now, what language did this creature speak? Ah, of course. Chomskese.

"Now, now. You'll only hurt yourself."

"Let me go! I am the king!"

"Well. You're a king, certainly, certainly. But, you see, you lost the battle with the Romulans. If I hadn't taken you, you would have died. Now, doesn't that earn me a little gratitude?"

"What do you want with me?" King Cimtiv growled.

"I want to display you in my museum."

"Display?!"

"Well, of course. You're an important historical figure, but not one that people know very much about. My museum will change that. People from all over the galaxy will be able to speak with you and learn about your time period directly from you. I promise you, you'll be very comfortable."

"What makes you think history will care about me?"

"Oh, I know it does! You see, I originate from about two thousand years in your future. My, you're a modest one. Surely, you know the importance of your work in joining the Federation and driving the Romulans from your planet?"

"You just said I died in battle."

"No, I said you would have. And you would! It was quite heroic and inspiring! The people of Chomsk rose up in a fury after the battle..."

The floor bucked beneath their feet, almost sending Aver to his knees and Cimtiv into the forcefield. Aver steadied himself, turning to gape for a brief moment at Cimtiv, before dashing off down the corridor. Fortunately, he reached his bridge quickly.

"Curator!" his helmsman, Seum, greeted. "It's a Federation ship. Sir. It's the Enterprise. Anyone from that ship would make a momentous display."

"Yes...no! No. It's too risky. We have to protect what we already have. Navator, disable their tracking device. Seum, make a time jump."

"When and where?"

"Earth 1995. We're going after our next exhibit."

"I thought we'd already collected everyone of interest from there," Seum said, sending a quantum magnetic pulse at the Enterprise.

"Almost," Aver grunted, as the ship faded and restabilized in the past. "There is one man, though, who we know almost nothing about. And we're going to find him."

"Seum!" Navator growled. "You have to give me more than thirty seconds!"

Aver sighed.

"Navator. Are we still attached to the Enterprise?"

Navator slammed his finger into a few buttons, before answering.

"Not. Anymore."

Seum groaned.

"I'm sorry! It's the Enterprise. I thought you would speed things up!"

"I can't speed up physics for your convenience, Seum!"

"GENTLEMEN. It doesn't matter. We have two advantages over the Enterprise. Firstly, we can land directly on the planet and, secondly, we can camouflage ourselves to appear as part of the surroundings. So, why don't we do that, very promptly, hmm?"

Navator turned back to his console with an angry huff, still jabbing his buttons harder than necessary. Seum sighed.

"Who are we looking for, anyway?"

"A man known as Mad Max."

"Are you sure he's a real person? I mean. The stories about him are pretty...well, mythical. You believe someone really just roamed the desert wastes, helping people? And ended up establishing civilizations?"

"I'm certain both that the man existed and that the stories are grossly exaggerated. There are surviving records from this time period, scant as they are. And, the stories told do agree on some details. It's widely acknowledged that Mad Max was a bronze."

"A bronze what?" Navator asked, nose wrinkling.

"That's a colloquialism. He was a guard charged with enforcing law and order. Guards like him were called police."

"You just said they were called bronze."

"In his society and age. The more universal word was police."

"Do the surviving records include a picture? No one seems to know who this guy was before the Eugenics Wars, as they're called.

"Oh, not for certain, no, but there are a few theories. Now, look at this."

Aver tapped into the ship's computer and a human face came up on the screen. The photo had been taken at night. A fairly young man stood on the sidelines of a street, the sort used by vehicles with wheels. Two or three vehicles lay in a twisted muddle of bent metal and broken glass. The young man, wearing a leather uniform, stared hard at the wreckage, his eyes sad and his mouth set in a grim line.

"This, gentlemen, is Max Rockatansky. He's mentioned in several newspaper articles and is mentioned more than a few times in news programs of the time. Evidently, he was a very skilled driver and ran down several criminals. But, then, he disappeared."

"Killed?"

"No. His disappearance happened around the time a notorious gang was hunted down and killed...a move not sanctioned by local authorities. It's supposed that he was their killer and then he fled."

"From the justice he was supposed to uphold."

"Yes, well, we don't judge. I'm sure his story will be quite enlightening, one way or another. So, let's get to finding him, yes? And, do remember he'll be quite a bit older now."

"Captain's Log. Stardate 7604.28. James T. Kirk commanding. Thanks to some unknown alien, we have arrived hundreds of years into Earth's past. Our mission is to rescue King Cimtiv of Chomsk from the aliens who kidnapped him and return him to his planet, the newest member of the Federation. Unfortunately, the alien ship disappeared, as it entered Earth's atmosphere. Our sensors have been unable to pick up any trace of the ship...and very little in the way of Earth technology.

Earth. Our readings show that this is Earth in the latter part of the twentieth century, a dark time. The Eugenics Wars are over, but Earth is in the earliest stages of recovery. Most countries are in chaos. Food, water, and fuel are all in short supply. Society, in many countries, has almost entirely collapsed. We actually know very little about this time period. Historical records from this time are rare.

Our scanners show very few signs of organized society. Most of the technology is either transportation or weapons. Some countries' populations are almost entirely nomadic. Ecological damage is severe, with famine and drought...rampant.

The good news is no one will care about who we are. The bad news is that won't stop them from trying to kill us, if they think we have anything of value.

However difficult, we must find and rescue King Cimvtiv, without disturbing the timeline."

Kirk ended his log and turned to Spock, who stood gazing cooly at him.

"And, I am open to suggestions."

"We were able to form a trajectory from the alien ship's emissions. The emissions decreased, once the ship disappeared from our sensors, but some remained. Based on that trajectory, we narrowed the field to a twenty-mile radius on the fringes of Sydney, Australia."

"Twenty miles, Mr. Spock?"

Kirk frowned up at him, but Spock shook his head, firmly.

"Given the alien ship's capabilities, we were fortunate to narrow it down that much."

"Twenty miles, which we will have to cover on foot?"

"Indeed, Captain, and this is a decaying age. From what our sensors detect, most clothing is leather and other durable goods from twenty years ago or animal skins from recent kills."

"That bad."

Kirk gave himself a few seconds to grieve for the humans of this time, then shook himself.

"So, the landing party will have to be small."

The bridge went still, wondering who the captain would choose to go.

"Captain. This is a high-risk mission. I must recommend that no one in the command chain go down."

"Risk is part of the job, Spock. We know almost nothing about this time period. We don't have an expert we can rely on. I'm going, with one security guard. Any more than that and we risk detection."

"Very well, Captain," Spock said, his tone heavy with a suppressed sigh. "Then, I recommend that you take Arthur Temadsen with you. The lieutenant has expertise in hand-to-hand combat, projectile weaponry, and a personal interest in archaic engineering."

"What kind of archaic engineering?"

"Combustion engines seem to be his main, though probably not only, focus."

"Very well. Have him report to the transporter room. Order the computer to replicate suitable clothing."

Kirk suppressed a sigh, seeing the "suitable clothing" that waited for him. Lt. Temadsen was wearing a leather jacket. The left side of the jacket was black leather, while the right side was short-haired fur. A length of chain around his waist held up thick, stained denim trousers, torn and patched. Heavy black boots completed the outfit. Temadsen hadn't bothered with headgear, his hair close-cropped enough to fit in well enough.

"Well. That is stylish," Kirk drawled, flatly.

Temadsen smiled, his bright blue eyes twinkling with humor, though he held in a grin. He handed Kirk a heavy bundle.

"Yours, Captain. I'm afraid it isn't any better."

"Well, I don't imagine it's much worse."

Kirk went behind the transporter console to change and revised his opinion. His boots, fortunately, were similar to Temadsen's. The rest of his outfit was leather, except for the parts that were metal chains. Some of the chains formed a codpiece that went up from his groin to wrap around his hips, uncomfortably like a metal diaper. More lengths of chain ran from a heavy belt around his waist from front to back, forming a sort of vest over a stained shirt. A short cape was tied loosely around his neck. Kirk ran his fingers over the metal studs that covered the sides of the helmet he'd been given.

"Are all these chains really a good idea? Who designed this?"

"I picked it out, sir," Temadsen admitted, sheepishly. "I thought you should look more dangerous than me."

"Dangerous? Well, yes, I suppose anyone who would wear this could be considered that."

"I had the computer replicate some weapons our scans indicate will blend in. We'd look odd, and be targets, without them, sir."

Kirk examined the array of weapons, handguns, rifles, and knives of various sizes, grimacing. He picked up a serrated knife and sighed.

"All right. We'll carry these, but remember we're not here to fight. We'll also carry standard phasers, set to stun. Let's hope we don't have to use any of this."

"Of course, sir," Temadsen agreed, taking his share of the weapons and tucking them away. "Sir?"

"What is it, Lieutenant?"

"Why this time and place? What connection could King Cimtiv have to twentieth-century Australia? Or, the kidnappers, either?"

"I don't know...yet. Believe me, I intend to ask them."

Most living things yearn to communicate. Birds cheep, garbluses spriffle, and cats meow. Thinking beings, inevitably, feel the need to talk with each other. If there was a song to the universe, it was the sonic tide of voices, spreading a throbbing harmony of greeting, information, and idle gossip.

Of course, the song was flawed. Discordant notes, fighting, screaming, and cursing, broke up the harmony. Still, there was something reliable about the constant presence of chatter in sentient societies. This one was no different. Aver strode out of his ship, wearing loose layers of linen that covered the feather-like feelers that covered his cheeks and chin. They almost could have passed for a human beard, if they weren't a vibrant green. So, he and Seum wore linen over their leathers, as they headed out into the desert.

Seum looked around, frowning.

"It's amazing this planet came back from this wreck."

"That's why what we do is so important, Seum. History is a guide, to keep from repeating terrible errors and history is most effective, when you can learn about it firsthand."

"So, you never feel any doubts about taking people?"

"Why? We only take people, when history says their lives end or they disappeared. Anyway, it's for the greater good," Aver insisted, looking around, then sighed. "I certainly won't have any qualms about removing someone from here. They'll be far better off."

"Yeah, steady food and drink is a good thing. Are you sure our display will be around here?"

"He has to be somewhere. We're directly in the center of the triangle formed by the three civilizations he is supposed to have founded. Most nomadic sentients keep within a certain territory. For now, we will suppose he is in the area. If he isn't, we might find someone who is familiar with his route."

Seum grabbed Aver's arm and dragged him behind a nearby tent, making a warning hiss in his throat.

"Now, Seum," Aver whispered. "Do calm down. This is a dangerous time, certainly, but we've braved worse."

"I saw a transporter beam."

"Then, again, we've never been pursued by the Enterprise. Which direction?"

"East."

"Fine. We'll go North."

"Not west?"

"No, no. They'll probably head in a straight line. North it is, unless you prefer to go south?"

Seum blinked, giving a half-shrug.

"I don't see how it matters. North is good. Though. Maybe we should try and get a look at them?"

"Erm. I'd rather not, thank you."

"But..."

"No, Seum! Don't twist my arm about it," Aver snapped, his face feelers throbbing and inflating.

"I thought you told me to calm down."

"Yes, well, I did. It's no good both of us being anxious. I need you to keep a clear head."

Seum kept his sigh silent, nodding. There was no use arguing. Aver was simply like that, so Seum headed north. Soon they came upon a couple of females with a few barrels of dark red liquid. One had silver hair twisted into a long rope down her back, while the other had dark hair chopped to just below her jawline. Aver recalled that white hair, among humans, was a sign of age. A mother and daughter, perhaps? Seum led them closer, pulling out a small bag of grain from a sack underneath his robes. He stopped in front of the younger female, staring a bit at the wine.

"How much?"

"What's in the bag?"

"Barley."

"Half for two cups."

"A quarter."

"Go thirsty, mate."

"It's good grain. No contamination, no vermin. Good enough to bake with."

"Hm. Let's see, then."

Seum spilled a small quantity of grain into the palm of his hand, allowing the female to take a couple of grains and chew on them.

"Tell you what. I'll give you a skin for the whole sack."

"How large a skin?"

The female held up a skin that would hold nearly two liters of liquid. Seum nodded.

"Deal."

They traded and Seum took a careful sip of the alcohol. He was impressed. It completely lacked the tang of radiation. He passed the skin to Aver, who took a sip, nodding graciously at the females. Barrels, boxes, and flat tires surrounded the women, serving as chairs and tables for their customers. Aver and Seum sat down, sipping slowly at their wine and listening.

"Look, there's got to be trade. People gotta be able to get goods, without all the stealing and killing. How else'll that happen without trade?!"

Aver looked over at the speaker, seeing a tall, heavy man with scars all across his cheeks. He sat, seeming at complete ease, across from a younger man, who was equally tall, but thin. The thin man shrugged.

"I didn't say there shouldn't be trade, Trimmer. Just not with someone else giving out rules. Look at Bartertown!"

"Oh, well...Auntie meant well enough."

"Did MasterBlaster 'mean well enough,' too? Heh? People start giving out rules to others and you get fights about who really gets to make the rules. Which is what got us here to start with."

"Well, sure, but then how do you keep trade fair and free? Eh, Moggy? Someone has to make rules or people like that Joe guy take everything for themselves."

"Yeah, but Bartertown and Joe are both gone. Both done in by a single guy."

"You don't believe that do you?" Trimmer scoffed. "That 'Mad Max' story is pure bunkeroo. Bartertown got burned down by Master and a bunch of kids. Plenty of people have sworn to that. Even if they did have some guy helping them, you don't really believe it was the same guy that took out Immortan Joe?"

"Joe was taken out by Furiosa," the younger wine trader told them, firmly.

"Right you are, Tapster," Trimmer agreed, raising his tin mug in salute. "Here's to Furiosa!"

"Plenty of people say those kids that burned Bartertown had help from the bloke who killed Blaster," Moggy insisted.

"I thought it was Iron Bar who did that. The bloke fighting Blaster refused."

"He's here, you know," Tapster told them, lowering her voice. "I saw him myself."

"Is he seven feet tall, covered in weapons, with glowing, red eyes?"

Moggy rolled his eyes, giving his friend a light shove.

"Name me someone who don't go armed," Tapster snapped. "And, his eyes are blue. Nice pretty shade of blue, too."

"Oooo, Tapster's interested!"

"Shut up, Trimmer."

"Nah, it's okay. I admit to looking. No harm in that."

"Not unless your mam catches you," Moggy chuckled.

"She was looking, too," Tapster retorted, grinning.

"I hear he used to be a Bronze," Aver interrupted, drawing stares, then shrugs.

"Don't know about that," Trimmer answered. "That's said about 'Mad Max,' but I'm telling you, it's all rubbish. We are cursed to live in interesting times and people tell tales. Then, they get drunk or confused, and those tales get stitched together. And, LO, a warrior wanders out of the desert, supposedly saving little pockets of civilization, but never sticking around."

"He didn't save Bartertown," Seum argued.

"Well, no, but those kids are supposed to be rattling around the ruins of Sydney."

"Then, he probably didn't save the kids, either, not in the long run," Tapster said, with a sad shrug, lifting a skin in salute and drinking.

"Well, actually, Sydney might be safe. Both sides wanted it, what with it being a port city."

Seum poked Aver in the side, keeping his movements unhurried.

"I'll be right back. Just gotta...ehm. I won't be long."

He waited for Aver's nod, then walked away. He ducked between two tents, emerging slightly ahead of his target.

Seum captures Temadsen. Temadsen pretends to be Max. Kirk captures Aver. Learns about Max's history and Aver's plans. Strikes deal to capture Max, if Aver agrees to return Enterprise to proper timeline. Has to convince Max to go along, in order to get Temadsen back.

comments

expy

Mon, 26 Jul 2021 23:50:09 GMT

I love my macdoc fics, loved writing them, love the characters. BUT. I’m a Christian. I believe in obeying God, even when, especially when, it goes against my own ideas/inclinations.

The Bible has strong things to say against homosexual relationships. By modern standards, most people would call me homophobic.

I disagree. Homosexuals are human, valuable, and should be treated with dignity and respect. That’s my firm belief. Things like conversion therapy and all the other abuses are evil. They’re sins and NOT in keeping with how Christians are ordered to treat other humans. Now, a lot of you may argue that the Bible doesn’t condemn homosexual relationships and I don’t know. I used to agree, but some of the language is pretty clear, particularly in Paul’s letters. And here’s the thing and this is where people are going to get mad (more mad?) at me:

I care more about God’s view on things, than I do yours, than I do mine. I value you, I love you, but God decides what is right and what is wrong. I’m trying to get close to God and that means obeying him. I can’t call Him my Lord and my God, then disregard his Word. So, as a Christian, I can’t promote and dabble in what He says to avoid. Even if modern theory is correct and homosexual relationships and my stories are innocent, I would rather make a willing sacrifice, a permanent fast if you will, of something innocent, than risk standing in opposition to God.

He means that much to me and I submit myself to His authority.

Mac and Murdoc both being male was never what made me like them as a pairing. What drew me to them is their personalities and the way they interact together. I love redemption stories and enemies to friends/lovers/families. I love stories where love conquers and extinguishes hate. That’s why I wrote those stories.

I’m sorry, if anyone is hurt by all of this. I don’t want to hurt anyone or be hurt, either. But, this is where I am.

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who we always are

Sat, 10 Jul 2021 16:46:43 GMT

"I'm so bored," Rimmer groaned, turning off the viewscreen.

Above him, hidden from view, Lister gave a polite grunt, as he pretended to listen. His attention was really devoted to a pile of race and track magazines that he'd found in someone's locker. Lister didn't care about racing, at least, not the kind that involved humans running with their own legs. Still, reading material he hadn't seen before was becoming rare and the last human alive couldn't be picky. Rimmer, being dead, wasn't inclined to be so philosophical. He got up from his bunk and glared impatiently.

"There has to be a better way than this to spend the evening," he persisted.

"Like what?" Lister asked, uninterested.

"I don't know! Like anything!" Rimmer protested. "We could...play cards, watch a movie...discuss literature?"

"Rimmer, we don't play cards, because you currently owe Cat three new suits, an earring, and twenty-five hundred pounds of mackerel. We can't watch movies, because Kryten is still cleaning the seats from last time!"

"That was your fault!" Rimmer accused. "You should have known getting Cat drunk while watching Wolfman would end in disaster."

"How was I supposed to know?" Lister objected. "It was just a movie. I didn't think he'd try to ward off Lon Chaney with eau d'Cat!"

Rimmer pursed his lips and rolled his eyes, shaking his head slowly. "Pathetic. Fine. What about literature?"

"Forget it! Your idea of discussing books is to nitpick the fight scenes and tell us why the heroes are all stupid! You said Scrooge was a superstitious old woman!"

"He was!" Rimmer protested. "He never checked a single 'spirit of Christmas' for wires! I'm telling you, Bob Cratchit was having him on!"

"You are such a smeg-head, Rimmer," Lister told him, tiredly.

"Um, I hope I'm not interrupting," Kryten interrupted. "I was just doing some cleaning in Captain Hollister's office and I came across these! Evidently, they belong to you two."

In Kryten's hands were two old-fashioned fob-watches, plated in gold, with strange markings covering them. Kryten handed one out to Rimmer, who took a step back.

"That isn't mine."

Kryten looked startled, glancing from Rimmer to the watch. "Are you certain, sir? It has your name on it."

"Why would I own a broken old fob-watch?"

"If it's not yours, how do you know it's broken?" Lister challenged, grinning.

"Well, I just...I...shut up, Lister!" Rimmer demanded.

"This one is yours, Mr. Lister, sir," Kryten interrupted, handing the second watch to Lister.

Lister took the watch, examining it a bit, before stuffing it in a pocket. "Thanks, Kryten. Funny, though, I don't remember owning one, either."

"Why would Captain Hollister have our watches and how would we end up with them, anyway? They look almost exactly alike!"

"I'm afraid I don't know, sirs," Kryten admitted, frowning helplessly.

"HOL!" Lister shouted.

Holly, the computer's AI, appeared on the screen, blinking owlishly at them. "Hello. What's up, then?" she asked.

"Hey, Holly, you know anything about these watches? Kryten found them in Hollister's office with our names on them."

"Oh, them."

"What do you mean, oh them?" Rimmer demanded, dreading the answer.

"Those arrived in the post, just before you killed everyone," Holly explained.

"Do you have to say it like that?" Rimmer objected, squeakily. "It was an accident!"

"Right, that's what I meant," Holly replied. "They arrived just before you accidentally killed everyone."

Rimmer glared murderously, while Lister laughed.

"Never mind that," he said. "What can you tell us about the watches, Hol? Who sent them?"

"Don't know. They were dropped off in the post with the right amount of stamps and no return address."

"Why didn't Hollister give them to us, then?" Rimmer asked, confused.

"I don't know. He just said he'd do it later. They seemed to make him a bit uneasy."

"We should jettison them," Rimmer decided.

"Don't be stupid, Rimmer. They're just watches. They can't hurt us," Lister assured him, sarcastically.

"You don't know that!" Rimmer objected. "How many seemingly innocent things have almost killed us in the past few years?"

"Well, you can jettison yours, then, but I'm keeping mine. It's kinda cool looking."

Rimmer rolled his eyes, giving his watch a scathing glare. "Fine, just...throw the idiotic thing in my trunk, will you, Kryten?"

"As you wish, Mr. Rimmer, sir."

"Heyyyyy, monkeys and Chrome Head!" Cat announced himself, spinning into the room. He grinned. "Guess what?"

"What is it, Cat?" Lister asked, smiling, but not taking any bait.

"We're being hailed by another ship!" Cat gloated, waiting for their reactions.

To the Cat's satisfaction, everyone on Red Dwarf, which was just the five beings in the room, immediately headed for the bridge. Those who could run were running. Holly disappeared from the viewscreen and reappeared on one of the secondary screens on the bridge. Lister sat at the communications booth and brought up the incoming message.

A tall humanoid appeared onscreen, standing on the bridge of his own ship. He was rough-looking, with long hair pulled back into a ponytail. He was wearing worn, dirty clothes that consisted of a long sleeve t-shirt, a vest, and dirty brown pants. He grinned at the motley crew of Red Dwarf.

"If you'll check your sensors, mates," he began, "you'll see you're surrounded by four ships, one on each side of you. The ships are smaller than yours, yeah, but most of their space is devoted to weapons. Do anything other than what I say and we'll cut you open."

"Who are you?" Rimmer demanded, trying to sound brave and authoritative, but unable to keep his voice from raising a bit in fear.

"I'm Captain Dawson," the man introduced himself. "We're coming aboard. You're going to give us anything we want. If you're lucky, we'll leave you with your ship or somewhere with a breathable atmosphere."

"No chance!" Lister retorted. "We'll fight, thanks."

"You're outgunned, mate. Be reasonable," Dawson responded, still grinning.

"You're bluffing," Lister bluffed. "There's no way your guns are getting through our shields."

"Um, sir," Kryten began, looking alarmed.

"Shut up, Kryten," Lister suggested, grinning.

"But, sir," Kryten protested.

"Not now, Kryten," Lister insisted, trying to give the mechanoid a meaningful glance.

"But..."

"But, you haven't got any shields," Dawson kindly finished for Kryten.

"Precisely, sir, thank you!"

Lister slumped in momentary defeat, raising his hands.

"Fine, fine. We don't have shields, but we do have Holly, a computer AI with an IQ of six thousand! Top that, mate!"

The rest of the Red Dwarf crew gave Lister brief glances, before focusing back on the viewscreen, fake smiles plastered on their faces. Dawson laughed, shaking his head. He turned to someone off screen and nodded.

"Sorry, mates, but you've made a demonstration necessary," Dawson informed them, with mock sadness.

A beam of light appeared and hit Rimmer, striking him right between the eyes. The hologram only had time to widen his eyes, before disappearing, his light bug falling pitifully to the floor. Lister gave the bug a shocked look, before crossing his arms, his expression stony.

"Okay, you shut him off. We can always turn him back on again."

"Still bluffing," Dawson noted admiringly. "You know, if you survive this, I might let you join my crew."

"No, thanks," Lister retorted, disdainfully.

"We didn't just turn your friend off, mate. We hijacked your hologram projector, using a nifty little computer virus. You don't surrender and we erase him, then we take you and your ship apart, if need be. You have twenty-four hours."

Dawson disappeared from the screen. Kryten walked over and picked up the light bug, holding it carefully.

"What do we do now, sir?"

Lister wasn't listening. A strange whisper had his attention. It was a soft, soothing voice intended, he knew, for him alone. It whispered and coaxed, promising help.

"Who are you?" Lister asked, nervous.

"I'm Kryten, sir," the mechanoid reminded his confused friend.

"Not you, you dork! The voice!"

"What voice?"

Obeying an impulse that seemed to come from outside of himself, Lister pulled his fob-watch from his pocket. He stared at it, fascinated, but filled with misgivings. "My watch is talking to me," Lister explained, his tone full of wonder.

"Sir, I think you had better lie down," Kryten advised.

"What would a watch want to tell one of you monkeys?" Cat asked confused. "If it were me, I'd tell you that you didn't deserve such a fine accessory!"

Lister ignored them. The whispers continued, issuing vague promises and hints about time and victory. "Look, I don't know what you want!" Lister snapped, impatiently. He opened the watch, hoping to get clearer answers from whatever was inside. Half a dozen streams of gold light flooded out and circled around Lister, touching him. Kryten started forward, but Lister held up a hand in warning, his eyes wide.

"Mr. Lister, sir?"

The gold light settled on Lister, briefly filling his eyes. Lister seemed to absorb the light, glowing, before it disappeared, leaving Lister standing alone and blinking.

"All right, then," he said, stepping forward and taking Rimmer's light bug from Kryten. "Time to get to work."

"But, Mr. Lister, sir, what are you going to do?" Kryten protested.

"Don't call me that, Kryten. My name isn't Lister," he scolded mildly.

"Well, who are you, then?"

The man turned, Dave Lister's open smile on his face. "I am the Master."

Kryten watched, stunned, as the self-declared Master turned and left the bridge.

"What do you think that dude's going to do with goal-post head?" Cat asked.

"I don't know," Kryten admitted. "Whatever was in that watch seems to have possessed him!"

"Well, what are we going to do about the pirates, then?"

"I-I...don't know that either! Look, I'm going to go talk with Mr. Lister, er, the Master. You go to the hologram projection suite and see if you and Holly can do anything to help Mr. Rimmer."

"Fine, but if the Master starts wearing go-go boots and carrying a whip? I'm joining the pirates!" Cat declared, sauntering off with a yowl.

Kryten couldn't shiver, but he did feel a great sense of unease. Mr. Lister was definitely not himself. Apparently, it was up to Kryten to save the day again. "Holly, locate Mr. Lister for me."

"Dave Lister is not on board."

"What do you mean? He can't have gone anywhere!"

"Whatever was in that watch changed his DNA structure. He is no longer Dave Lister or human."

"All right, fine. Where is the Master?"

"The Master is currently in his quarters."

"Right, join Cat and I'll see if I can get through to him."

"You got it," Holly promised.

Kryten hurried down the hallway to Lister's and Rimmer's quarters. He was almost there, when the Master emerged, Rimmer's fob-watch in his hand.

"What are you doing with that?" Kryten asked, puzzled.

"Putting things back the way I prefer them," the Master answered, cheekily.

"Um, sir, Mr. Master, we need to talk," Kryten informed him firmly.

"I have a better idea. Come give me a hand. We do only have twenty-four hours, after all," the Master countered, continuing down the corridor.

"Sir, I must insist on knowing who you are and what has happened to Mr. Lister!" Kryten protested, keeping pace with him.

The Master sighed but shrugged. "Look, it's simple. Rimmer and I made someone called the Valeyard really, really angry, yeah? So, to punish us, he transformed us into humans, using a thing called a chameleon arch. Then, to really rub things in, he gave us these ridiculous identities, making us people we would be embarrassed about! Our real selves, our real minds, were stored in the fob-watches. Now, I'm free and I've got to free Rimmer and get him properly alive."

"What about the pirates?"

The Master smiled.

"Oh, they won't be a problem, trust me. Now come on. The first thing we need to do is build a genetic loom."

"Um, one more thing, if you please. Why do you call yourself the Master?"

"Oh, that? Yeah, I'm called that, because I'm going to conquer and rule my home universe," the Master explained lightly, opening the doors to the medical bay.

"I see," Kryten said, frowning deeply but following. "And what about Mr. Rimmer?"

"Oh, I'll leave you to find out about him on your own," the Master told him, chuckling.

Kryten cringed a bit, but began helping the Master rewire one of the scan beds. Ten hours later, the Master screwed a final panel into place. Kryten looked at the new equipment, impressed. The Master had revealed a very in-depth understanding not only of engineering and electronics, but of DNA and micro-biology. Kryten just hoped those skills would be used benevolently.

"What's wrong, Kryten?" the Master asked impatiently.

"Where do I begin?" Kryten mused. "You're planning on conquering a universe, Mr. Rimmer has been deactivated, pirates are waiting for our surrender, and we just built a piece of equipment that would give Mary Shelley nightmares! My circuits can't take much more!"

"Oh, come on, it's not as bad as it sounds," the Master soothed, sounding so much like the old Lister that Kryten would have cried, if he had tear ducts.

"But, the entire universe, sir?"

"Look, it's just the way things are, Kryten. You have to either rule or be ruled. That's all. I just won't be ruled by others. You feel the same, yeah? Isn't that why you're trying to break your programming?"

"Well, not so I can rule others! And, what about Mr. Rimmer? What is this device for?"

The Master took a few bags of protoplasm from a nearby repository and attached them to the loom, then hooked up Rimmer's light bug. A computerized coding of DNA began scrolling down the screen.

"There. The loom will take the protoplasm and the DNA code from Rimmer's light bug and recreate Rimmer's body. Once he's back alive, I can open the fob-watch."

"How long will that take?"

"Not very long," the Master assured him.

"The entire universe?" Kryten pleaded.

"Every bit of it," the Master insisted sternly. "Where's Cat gone?"

"I sent him and Holly to the hologram projection suite."

"Well, get him back. I don't want him interfering."

"Yes, sir," Kryten agreed.

Kryten obeyed, going and bringing Cat back to the medical bay. When they got there, the first thing Kryten noticed was that the Master had changed his appearance. Lister's clothes had been replaced by neatly pressed, black dress slacks, a black silk shirt, and a black suit jacket. Highly polished black boots completed the outfit. Worst of all, the Master had cut off Lister's dreadlocks, leaving his hair laying short and neat next to his skull. Cat did a double-take, then grinned.

"Hey, someone finally developed some taste! That's an elegant outfit. Boring, but elegant!"

"Thanks, I'm glad you approve," the Master said, dryly.

"How's Mr. Rimmer coming along?" Kryten asked.

"See for yourself," the Master invited, waving a hand.

Kryten stepped up to the plexiglass dome that covered the bed of the loom. Inside, he could see a vaguely human form growing. He watched, intrigued, as muscle and tissue slowly formed and knit together over a skeletal frame. The Cat came and stood beside him, looking confused.

"Is that your dinner?" he asked, repulsed at the idea.

"No!" the Master snapped. "That's Rimmer."

"I've seen him look better," the Cat commented.

"I've seen him look worse," Kryten countered.

"Shut up," the Master ordered. "At this rate, the whole process will only take another two hours and eighteen minutes."

"Good, that's just enough time for my nap!" Cat announced, bouncing off to a corner of the room.

Kryten stayed where he was, watching intently. He could see the loom translating DNA into flesh, so fast even his processors could barely keep up. The skeleton finished first as the ribcage encased new organs. As the organs completed, flesh and fat welled up, smoothing over the body. Skin settled over the whole, like a bag pulled tight, then shaping and conforming to the frame beneath. Hair formed last, sprouting on the arms and legs, then covering the head. Finally, Rimmer lay on the bed and his eyes began to move beneath their lids.

"You did it," Kryten announced, awed.

"Of course, I did," the Master agreed, lifting off the clear covering.

"But, what about his brain? It's completely new and untrained!"

"It doesn't matter," the Master reminded him. "Rimmer's personality was made up. His real self is in the watch."

"Are you going to open it?"

"There's no point in waiting."

Kryten nodded helplessly, worried more than he would admit. If Mr. Lister, the affable, moral human, who had befriended a lonely mechanoid, became a megalomaniac, what would one of those infernal watches make of a selfish weasel like Arnold Judas Rimmer? The Master ignored Kryten and his misgivings, gleefully opening Rimmer's fob-watch. Golden light surrounded the prone form, settling over it like a blanket. Time Lord and mechanoid both waited, spellbound, as the light finally faded...and the body's eyes snapped open.

"Sir? How do you feel?" Kryten asked.

"I'm fine," he responded, sitting up and stretching. "I feel really good, actually."

The former hologram got up and examined his bed, then grinned, the open expression looking odd to Kryten. Seemingly unaware or uncaring of his nudity, the newly alive man walked around the loom, touching and stroking different parts of it.

"Um, sir, are all of your memories intact?"

"Of course they are, Kryten," he was reassured. "I'm the Doctor, he's the Master, and we're in one of the most cocked up situations imaginable."

"So that contraption really worked?" Cat asked incredulously, coming out from the shadows.

"To perfection. The Master's an untrustworthy lunatic, but he is competent," the Doctor declared smugly.

"Who are you calling a lunatic?" the Master asked indignantly. "You're the one who flits about at random, from one deadly situation to another."

"Oh, yes? And how many of those situations were you responsible for?" the Doctor retorted.

"Not enough of them to suit me!"

"Gentlemen!" Kryten interrupted, shaking his head.

"Some things just don't change," the Cat observed, amused.

"Now is not the time!" Kryten asserted, firmly. "Remember, we still have the pirates to deal with. They may no longer have Mr. Rimmer, er, the Doctor hostage, but they do have us surrounded."

"I suppose you're utterly opposed to just killing them, like any sensible person would?" the Master asked the Doctor sarcastically.

"They're living beings!"

"They don't have to be," the Master pointed out, cheerfully.

"No killing!" the Doctor insisted, pointing a commanding finger at the Master.

"Fine, fine, so what's your brilliant plan, then?"

"I suggest we start by getting Dr. Alphabet Head some clothes," the Cat voted.

"Wasting time on frivolities just increases the danger that the pirates will kill us," the Doctor scolded.

"Well, you wearing clothes will lessen the danger of me losing my lunch!" Cat retorted.

"Go get dressed and meet us on the bridge," the Master ordered, exasperated.

"Oh, have it your way," the Doctor agreed, peevishly.

The Master spent the time waiting for the Doctor lost in his own thoughts...or sulking, Kryten wasn't sure which. Nothing in the Master's face or posture invited conversation, so Kryten kept silent. He noted with interest, however, that the Master became animated the moment the bridge doors opened. Kryten studied the Doctor's new outfit with interest.

Like the Master, the Doctor had ignored his own former fashion choices. Now, he wore a pair of dark blue trousers, a burnt orange dress shirt, and a cardigan in mottled shades of blue and green. A black newsboy cap sat jauntily on the Doctor's head. A green silk ascot was tied loosely around the Doctor's neck.

"So, any ideas....other than killing everyone?"

"Sorry. Flighty ideas are your department," the Master quipped.

"One word for you, bucko...Kalid!" the Doctor scoffed, his hands going to his hips.

"Did you recognize me?"

"You looked like a cross between a zombie and Ali Baba...your own mother wouldn't have recognized you!"

"Well, then," the Master concluded, shrugging.

The Doctor crossed his arms, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"Sirs, please," Kryten intervened, losing patience. "We really must do something about the pirates."

"Right. So, what do we know about these pirates? Anything?"

"They're from an Earth colony located in this quadrant, exact location unknown. Apparently, the colony was populated by a religious order, wanting to separate itself from Earth and it's cemeteries. Apparently, they have a strong aversion to death and it's trappings. Even talking about death or mentioning the soul is taboo..." Kryten began.

"And these gents?" the Master interrupted, sharply.

"Ah, the current leader of the pirates is intelligent, superstitious, and rather too successful," Kryten concluded, unhappily.

"Superstitious, eh?" the Doctor repeated. "Right, I think I need to have a chat with this pirate captain. Punch him up for me, will you please, Kryten?"

"What are you going to tell them?" Kryten asked, confused and suspicious.

"I'm going to invite him to surrender."

"Sir," Kryten scoffed. "I hardly think a professional pirate of this man's caliber is going to surrender to you, a recently resuscitated technical officer dressed as a college frat boy!"

"Kryten, the fact that I'm 'recently resuscitated' is exactly why he will surrender. Now, be a good chap and put him on, please?"

"Very well, sir," Kryten conceded, sending a request for communication to the other ship.

The pirate captain came onscreen, looking smug. "You're ready to surrender, I trust?"

"Not at all. In fact, I rather thought you might like to surrender to me," the Doctor informed him, smiling.

Dawson focused on the Doctor, frowning. "Hey, you're that hologram we hijacked. How'd you get free?"

"I'm no longer a hologram. I'm alive now."

Dawson shifted, hiding unease behind a sneer. "That's impossible," he pointed out, though Dawson also couldn't see how another person had got on board past his own ships.

"Run a scan. You checked for lifeforms before contacting us before, didn't you? You'd have wanted to see how many you were up against, like a good, sensible fellow. It said two, plus a mechanoid and a hologram, didn't it."

"Well, yes," Dawson admitted, "and we found out we have you quite a bit out-numbered."

"Run your scans again, then."

"Why? What are you playing at?"

"Go ooon!" the Doctor encouraged, grinning smugly. "Just do a simple little scan...where's the harm?"

"Run the scan," Dawson ordered his crew.

"Three lifeforms and one mechanoid on board the mining ship, Captain," a nervous voice confirmed.

Dawson stormed over to the scanning station and read the information himself. He paled, but came back to his command chair, his jaw set.

"What sort of trickery is this?"

"No trickery. I was a hologram and now I'm not. I should have done that ages ago, but well, never mind. I did see some interesting things in the afterlife, though, would you like to hear about them?"

"Don't talk about death, you idiot!" Dawson snapped. "It's bad luck."

"Well, it's bad luck for you, maybe," the Doctor replied, uncaring. "I've been there and back and you would not believe the people I met on the other side! Really, I encountered some of the nicest souls imaginable...they seemed to take quite an interest in me..."

"Shut up!" Dawson commanded, his eyes wide.

"Oh, come on, you're not the least bit curious?" the Doctor wheedled, innocently.

"All right! Look, we'll leave you alone. We don't want anything to do with that stuff, okay? Just, just shut up and go away!"

"Oh, fine, if you want to be like that," the Doctor pouted. "Oh, one more thing, though..."

"What?" Dawson snapped, his crew already preparing to flee.

"You...wouldn't happen to have heard anything about a strange blue box, not very big, but not quite normal? That or a stone column of some sort?"

Kryten eyed the Doctor, beginning to speak, but was cut off by Dawson.

"According to the latest rumors, the Bound Ones were last seen on Calistair Five, about a month's journey from here," Dawson replied, just before his ship zoomed away.

"Well, there they go and all because the dear Doctor knows how to run his gob," the Master observed, laughing.

"Calistair Five. That's about a month away, Holly?" the Doctor asked eagerly.

"Well, yeah, about that," Holly agreed.

"I don't understand, sir. Why are you so interested in the Bound Ones?" Kryten asked.

"They're ships and they belong to us," the Master explained.

"The Bound Ones have been traveling the universe for centuries. People have tried to separate them, to sell them, even to put them in museums. Always they get free," Kryten lectured. "It is said they belong only to each other."

The Doctor and the Master exchanged disturbed glances, before the Doctor coughed, dramatically.

"Yes, well, they must have been looking for us all that time, trying to come to our rescue."

"But, if they're ships, why do they look like a stone column and a police call box?" Kryten asked.

"That's just their outward appearances. They can look like anything, as long as their circuits are kept in proper order," the Master explained, throwing a wry look at the Doctor. "It's meant as camouflage."

"What happens to us in a month, when you get your ships back?" the Cat asked, looking up from steaming the pleats on his pants.

"Well, that depends on you, really," the Doctor explained. "We can take you to any point in space and time, practically."

"Just don't ask him to take you to Heathrow," the Master teased.

"Oh, do be quiet," the Doctor moaned.

"Now, wait, what do you mean by anywhere in space and time?"

"We're Time Lords, Kryten. Our ships can travel to anywhere and when."

"I've never heard of Time Lords."

"Yeah, me neither," Holly interjected.

"We're not from this reality. The Valeyard stranded us here," the Doctor explained. "Once we have our ships, we'll be going back."

"I hate to say this, but without Dave Lister or Arnold Rimmer, we have no purpose in this universe. If you took us back to Earth, I'd be reprogrammed and Cat, well, he'd probably be dissected or something terrible!"

"Dissected!" Cat hissed. "A great-looking Cat like me?!"

"No one is getting dissected!" the Doctor assured him strongly. "Well, you're certainly welcome to come with us, Kryten. Our universe is a wonderful place. I'm sure you'd enjoy exploring it. And, with my and the Master's technical expertise, we can at last free you completely of your programming."

"What about me?" Cat demanded.

The Doctor smiled at him affectionately. "Oh, Cat, our universe would be perfect for you! I can introduce you to the Cat people on New Earth. You'll fit right in!"

"You have Cat people in your universe? Does that include...Cat women?"

"Indeed it does," the Doctor agreed.

"What about me then?" Holly asked a bit sadly. "With your own ships, you won't need me anymore."

"Well, maybe not as a ship per se," the Doctor conceded, "but I can always hook you up to my TARDIS. She doesn't get company often. You'd be good for each other."

"That's very generous of you, Doctor," Kryten conceded, rather astonished.

"Oh, good. We're not even back home yet and you've started."

"Started what?"

"Collecting companions. You've no plans other than traipsing about."

"I suppose you'll immediately start in trying to dominate everything," the Doctor observed, disapprovingly.

"Why do you have to do that? Why are you always so down on my dreams?"

"Because, your dreams get people killed!"

"Other than that!"

"You want to be a totalitarian dictator with complete control over everyone and everything!"

"So I'm ambitious, so what? I might be a good ruler. You don't know."

"You really are going to leave, once we're in your universe?" Kryten asked, unhappily. Dave Lister had been his best, perhaps only, friend. Now, everything was backward!

"He'll be off like a shot," the Doctor predicted, irritated.

"What do you want me to do? Wait around for you to trap me on some backwater?" the Master scoffed. "No, thanks."

The Master stormed off the bridge. Kryten watched him go, wanting to help, but believing that, for once, the Doctor was in the right.

"What are you going to do, sir?"

"Please, don't call me sir, Kryten. I don't know. I've never been able to get through to him. Right now, I think we should just let him cool off. We can work on breaking your programming," the Doctor suggested with fake cheer.

"You think you know how?" Kryten asked, hesitant.

"Certainly. The Master and I are both scientists, you know. That's just one small part of ourselves that was hidden in those watches."

"Well, all right," Kryten conceded, thinking of the loom that the Master had constructed so rapidly. He let the Doctor lead him off to one of the work areas.

When he went back to their quarters, the Doctor found the Master lounging on his bunk, reading a scientific journal that Lister had scorned at. He looked up, when the Doctor came in, frowning.

"What have you been up to?"

"I was helping Kryten break his programming. We've nearly got it fixed."

"Oh, good. Another slave freed. A slave freed and pirates vanquished, not a bad day's work for you."

"Please, stop."

"Always asking me to stop. Just stop. Try thinking of something more original."

"Is that what the problem is? You need me to think of something constructive for you to do?"

"To quote the erstwhile Dave Lister, 'smeg off.'"

"It doesn't have to be this way, you know."

"What do you want, Doctor? Seriously, think about it. What do you want from me?"

"I want us to stop. Look at us! Even as humans, we became some weird blend of friends and enemies! I want to drop the enemies bit."

"How then?"

"Just, stay, please. You once offered to let me rule with you. Well, now, I'm making my own offer. See the universe with me for a bit. I told you once I'd like that and I meant it. If you really can't stand it, you can always go back to conquering later. I don't think you'll want to though."

"You think traipsing around as one of your companions will be better?" the Master asked, skeptically.

The Doctor came forward, standing close beside his bunk. "As much as my companions mean to me, and I'm not denying that, I think you know you'd be more than that. You'd be my partner."

"Partners. Full partners."

"We were practically brothers, growing up. We can be again."

"We gotta get home, first."

"True. Good thing we have a couple of geniuses onboard."

"Yeah. Too bad one of them is an annoying git."

"That's all right. You're still my best enemy, anyway."

"Best friend, Doctor. If we're going to be traveling together, it's best friend."

"Right! Sorry. Best friend. That's what I meant."

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Sun, 20 Jun 2021 05:08:03 GMT

Author's note: This story is the result of a meme on Livejournal, where I was asked to write comment fic featuring Eloquent!Ainley!Master and Dorky!Koschei.

The Master sat at the bar of a rather upscale, drinking establishment. A glass of very good brandy sat in front of him. It was his seventh brandy, so far, and he had shut down the mechanism in his body that kept him from getting drunk. He wanted to be intoxicated and felt he was making a rather good job of it. The bartender apparently thought so too. The first four brandies had been excellent, not merely very good.

Excellent, very good, or very bad, the brandies were doing their job and the Master was more relaxed, though no more cheerful, than he had been, when he came in. He decided to let himself daydream a bit, so he used his imagination and telepathy to create a sort of dreamscape inside his mind. He reconstructed the bar, almost exactly as it really was, but filled it with more, livelier people. It was a Wednesday, actually, and things were a bit too slow. The Master decided, in his daydream, to make it a Friday.

The Master had intended to have the Doctor show up in his daydream, so he was a bit surprised to find his younger self sitting next to him instead. Koschei, looking sixteen by human standards, sat on a stool next to the Master, wearing his school robes, orange and collarless, with a badge proclaiming his family's House. The Master stared at this apparition with distaste.

"You're quite drunk," Koschei observed, sounding sad.

"You're dead, so go rot," the Master snarled.

The boy had the nerve to laugh at him.

"What an intelligent, genteel thing to say!" he mocked.

"Why are you here? I don't want you here. I want to forget you ever existed!"

"Well, you're doing a damn fine job of that!" Koschei retorted. "You seem to have forgotten a lot of important things!"

"Oh, have I? What might those things be?"

"Theta. You've forgotten Theta," Koschei complained.

"Theta Sigma," the Master scorned. "He's just as dead as you. We aren't those boys anymore."

"Names don't matter..." Koschei began earnestly.

"Names are everything," the Master denied, glaring. "I am the Master. I was once you, but you died, when I came into being, the same as Tremas died, when I took this body."

Koschei shook his head.

"I won't be your victim. You've torn my future to shreds, made me hated. You're keeping me away from Theta Sigma!"

"Theta Sigma, what's left of him, doesn't want you anymore!" the Master proclaimed, cruelly, ignoring that the words stuck a knife of pain into his own gut.

Tears welled in the boy's eyes and he shook his head.

"That's not true. Theta is my brother and always will be."

"Why was I ever so drawn to him?" the Master wondered bitterly.

"Because he's wonderful," his younger self answered. "He's brilliant, he listens, he has the cleverest ideas..."

"Rassilon's sake, spare me, boy! You've brains enough to see past such inane drivel!"

"It's not drivel! I love him and so do you! I know you do!" Koschei sulked.

"He left me to die, twice, in the Death Zone! He refused my help and stole the Seal of the High Council! No! Theta is dead. There is only the Doctor and he's our enemy. Get used to it, boy."

"I'd like to think our futures hold a bit more than that, really," a new voice responded.

The Master turned and rubbed blearily at his eyes. Theta Sigma, dressed similarly to Koschei, came walking up behind them, smiling. He came and stood between the two versions of his oldest friend, then turned and gave Koschei a quick hug.

"You're right," he told his schoolmate. "I am your brother and always will be."

"You shouldn't tell lies, Theta Sigma," the Master sneered.

"I'm not lying, Master," Theta argued.

"Really? You could have taken me with you. You chose to take the recall device and leave me to the Cybermen, instead. You left me to die. Is that your idea of brotherly love?"

"I'm sorry," Theta offered softly and urgently. "I thought you were allied with them and weren't really in danger. I wouldn't have just left you to die. Master, you must believe me."

"It hardly matters, if I believe you or not. You aren't him. You're just a figment of my imagination, telling me what I want to hear! This daydream has gone terribly wrong," the Master mourned.

Theta Sigma sat on the stool with Koschei, who leaned into him. Theta wrapped his arms around the other boy and rested his chin on his shoulder.

"Maybe you should wake up, then," he replied gently.

"I think I shall," the Master agreed, with drunken dignity. "I'll wake up and leave the pair of you to molder in your broken dreams."

Theta just nodded, smiling enigmatically, an expression that left a sour taste in the Master's mouth. The Master gave a harsh mental tug, sending the dream spiraling into oblivion. He came to himself with a sharp jerk of his shoulders, then took a deep breath. Cursing in ancient Gallifreyan, he finished off the current glass of brandy.

"I'm really surprised you let yourself daydream like that in public. You left yourself terribly vulnerable, you know."

The Master whirled to his right, stunned. Sitting next to him, his hat on the bar, was the Doctor from his own timeline, his cricket outfit strangely suiting their surroundings. Studying his nemesis, the Master noted that there was a line of sweat at the Doctor's temple. Theta Sigma's presence in his daydream was now explained.

"You invaded my dream, without my sensing another's psychic presence? How very impressive. I must be drunker than I thought!" the Master observed.

"Seven brandies, while suppressing your metabolism? I'm impressed that you're still standing," the Doctor agreed.

"Why are you here, Doctor?" the Master sighed. "I'm not plotting anything that would interest you, unless you've decided to protect the bar's stock of alcohol."

"I wanted to find you. I didn't really trust Rassilon to simply let you go, you see. Also, I wanted to apologize. You were right. I didn't listen. I should have known you were telling the truth. Undisguised, you've never denied your intentions."

"You've never refused my help before," the Master pointed out, trying to keep his tone even and free of the hurt he felt.

"I know," the Doctor acknowledged, his voice still soft, but now with a hint of pleading. "Master...Koschei, please believe me. I honestly thought you were safe, when I left you behind. I wouldn't abandon you to be killed, truly!"

The Master studied his old friend and nodded, too full of drink and emotion to challenge the use of his old name.

"I suppose it really isn't the way you do things," he grudgingly allowed.

"Well," the Doctor began, sounding frustrated, "yes, that too, but, more importantly, I wouldn't do that to you!"

The Master simply stared at him, whatever eloquence he'd had used up for the moment. He sat, gazing at the man who had once been the boy he'd loved fiercely. The Doctor gazed back and for the first time in a long time, he saw Koschei staring out at him, hidden behind the Master's fierce control.

The Doctor shivered, horrified that Koschei had been there all along and he hadn't seen it!

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xmas letters

Tue, 08 Jun 2021 04:16:50 GMT

December 24 Eight forty-five p.m.

Dear Saint Nicholas,

If you exist, which I doubt, you must be surprised to be receiving a letter from a soldier who is almost forty years old and who has been accused of being an assassin and worse. Well, if you do exist, you know whether I've been naughty or nice, right? Of course, those terms are kinda relative, aren't they? I certainly wouldn't call a lot of what I've done the last few years "nice," but it's for a good cause! I'm trying to save the human race, after all, so I hope you'll excuse some of the dirtier tasks I've had to perform. For the sake of this letter, I'm going to assume I'm forgiven. Otherwise, there's not much point to my writing you, is there?

Actually, 'why am I writing you?' is a very good question. I assume you don't get many letters from lucid adults. Do you remember a man named Fox Mulder? I'd really love to know if he made your nice list when he was a kid or if he occasionally got himself on the naughty one. The man may have ironclad morals, but he's also stubborn, arrogant, and a trouble magnet.

Anyways. Mulder believes in everything. I would not be at all surprised to learn that he believes in you. Unfortunately, Mulder has a scary habit of being right, especially about things that could be called bizarre, unusual, or paranormal. So, since there are things I want and I haven't been able to get them for myself, I decided to hedge my bets and send you this letter.

The first thing I want for Christmas is world peace. I'm serious. I mean, I'm not asking that you stop every stupid little border skirmish or make the USA and the Middle East best buddies. I'm trying to keep this realistic. However, I did mention that I have a cause I'm fighting for, namely keeping humanity from extinction. The human race is running out of time and if something doesn't change your very last toy run will occur in roughly fifteen years.

Trust me, the Colonists just aren't the types to celebrate peace and goodwill, not to mention the more religious aspects of the holiday season. So, while we're dying, you'll be facing unemployment. I'm not threatening you! I just want to be very clear about the danger. So, I could use some help here. A working vaccine against the black cancer would be very useful.

The second thing I could use is a new prosthetic. It'd be nice to have something like Luke Skywalker got in Empire Strikes Back! Yeah, I could get one myself, but not easily. I mean, I'd have to find a doctor I could trust and I hate doctors. They aren't as trustworthy as you might think. They all seem to have at least a bit of a God complex. Of course, the only ones I'm familiar with work for the Project, so maybe I'm biased. Plus, even if I could find a good doctor, I'd have to get an exam and fittings and crap and I'm kinda busy! You know, that whole saving the world thing? It's a bit time-consuming.

Sorry, if I seem to be harping on the point, but you know how it is. So, I could really use a good, durable prosthetic. I'm kinda rough on them.

Lastly, the thing I want most is Fox Mulder's friendship. I want him to understand me and the choices I've made. I want him to forgive me. I think Mulder and I could be very good partners against the aliens. I really don't understand him. I mean, he's a federal agent.
He knows about tough choices for the greater good and he certainly knows how dangerous the Colonists are. I'm not sure what he expects me to do...or not do, maybe.

If you're real, then you probably know our history and it isn't pretty. Well, there has to be some way to convince him that I want to make things right. I want him to know that I'm sorry for hurting him. He's had too much of that and I regret adding to it. Problem is I've had to lie to him a few times and he's not going to believe anything I say. That's where you come in. I know you're not a matchmaker or anything, but can't you give him proof that I'm on the right side...on *his* side?

I don't know why I'm writing this. I just have to try. I can't think of any way to approach him that won't end in a fight. He doesn't trust easily and I burned him once and I don't know how to win his trust back, without endangering our species! So, if you could help me, I'd very deeply appreciate it.

Sincerely,

Alex Krycek

Alex threw down his pen and rubbed his eyes. He felt foolish. Vodka and loneliness only excused so much irrational behavior and Krycek was fairly certain he had crossed the line. Writing to Santa? Spilling out his frustration and need for a friend in a Christmas wish list? Krycek vowed to avoid the Hallmark channel during the holidays from now on.

Stretching and yawning, he decided to call it a night. He stumbled wearily towards the dubious comfort of his bedroom. Just as he shut the door, something happened.

Green, red, and silver sparkles began dancing merrily around Alex's letter to Santa.

Then it disappeared!

In the morning, Alex noticed it was missing and put the entire episode down to a liquor-inspired waking dream.

December 25 12:31 a.m.

Krycek stumbled into his kitchen, intent on coffee, but came to a halt just inside the door. Something was wrong. Scanning the room from left to right, he started. He had a guest, sitting calmly at the small kitchen table wedged into the right-hand corner of the room.

"Mulder? W-what are you doing here?"

"You asked for me to be here," Mulder reminded him, smirking.

"I asked..." Krycek began, then broke off, confused.

He walked over and sat across from Mulder, his nose wrinkled in sleepy thought, as he tried to figure out what Mulder meant. Mulder chuckled and handed Krycek a large, cream-colored envelope. Krycek's name was on the front in elegant calligraphy. Krycek took the envelope and opened it carefully. He looked at Mulder again, questioningly, but Mulder just nodded towards the envelope again, smiling softly. Krycek opened up the letter.

Dear Alex,

Merry Christmas, dear boy. Of course, I exist. It's sad that when men and women gain the experience of adulthood, they lose the gentler wisdom of childhood. I was not surprised that you wrote to me. Ah no! Children are not the only ones who feel the need to write to me. I know of your war and your cause. I know your battle is an ugly and difficult one that sometimes forces you to use methods that are unsavory. Yet, that must be balanced against what is at stake. Obviously, you have made the nice list, for this year at the least.

I am glad to see that young Fox is having an influence on you. His willingness to believe and accept life as it comes to him is one of his greatest strengths, despite the fools and jackals who ridicule him. I certainly will not tell you what parts, if any, of his youth were spent on my naughty list. Ask him, if you insist on knowing. Perhaps you'll learn something about each other.

World peace. Oh, my dear young man, how I do wish I could grant this wish. But, I am not God. You must know that there are powers far greater than mine. In the end, I am but a toymaker and a reminder of the hope and joy that this world can hold. I can support you, but I cannot win this war for you.

Still, you mentioned a vaccine. I am not a doctor and know very little about medicine. However, you will find a second sheet of paper in the envelope of this letter. On that paper is the name and address of someone who will eventually become important to your fight. My advice is that you not seek this person out, just yet. Your paths will cross, when the time is right. However, when you meet this woman, you must introduce her immediately to Agent Scully. Until then, remember this. You are not alone in your fight. There are as many, hopefully greater, powers with you, as against you.

Now, as for a new prosthetic, this is something I can grant! Well, within reason! I think a prosthetic such as Luke Skywalker's would draw some very uncomfortable attention to you! Still, you are very hard on your limbs and not just the fake one! I gave the problem to my elves and I think you will be very pleased with the result. If anything, this new limb will be much more comfortable than your previous ones.

And, speaking of comfort, I admit, playing matchmaker, even just for friendship, is not comfortable for me at all. I was very reluctant to interfere in your relationship with Fox Mulder. However, you asked me to intervene for you and to help convince him of your sincerity. I have done so as best I can. He knows now where your loyalties lie.

Where you two go from here is between the two of you. You're stronger together-that is one reason I granted your wish, but such things cannot be commanded. You will be friends or enemies as you both choose. I wish you well.

Sincerely,

Saint Nicholas

Krycek stared down at the letter in amazement. It had worked! He'd actually received presents from Santa Claus. He looked up at Mulder, who smiled gently at the wonder in Krycek's eyes.

"What could he possibly have said to you?" Krycek asked.

"The truth," Mulder answered, shrugging. "He showed me some things...what you'd tried to do and been through. He showed me how my bitterness had colored my perceptions of you. He said we need each other. He showed me your letter to him. Points for a very earthy eloquence."

Krycek chuckled, his nose wrinkling in irritation, though he couldn't help being amused as well.

"Thanks, I think. Look, Mulder, I just...I'm tired of fighting this war alone. Y'know?"

"Yeah, me too," Mulder agreed, earning a surprised look from Krycek. "Yeah, I have Scully, but, then again, I don't. She doesn't believe and I'm beginning to think she never will."

"She doesn't want to and, frankly, I don't blame her. If Cancerman would let her ignore this whole ugly mess and lead a normal life, I would tell you to just back off and let her."

"Ignoring it won't make it less real," Mulder countered sadly. "Ignorance may be bliss, but it's not protection."

"No. It's not. So, what now?"

"Now? We celebrate Christmas. Next week we get back to work."

"Good thing I went grocery shopping."

comments

Please 2

Tue, 09 Mar 2021 00:49:24 GMT

Dear Dad,

I'm glad Mr. Taylor is letting me write to you again. Please be good. I want to see you. I love you, you know. These past couple of years have been hard, though Dr. Webber tried to give me updates about you, when she could. It's not the same as seeing you and I miss you.

I'm mad at you, though. They told me you BEAT Mr. MacGyver, that you tried to kill him! Dad, how could you do that?! He saved my life. You said that to me, that you couldn't have saved me from that Liu guy without Mr. MacGyver. And, now you try to kill him?

I don't understand. I'm not sure I want to. You gotta stop. You're the strongest person I ever met. I know you can stop, if you really try. It makes me sad that things have gotten bad between you and Mr. MacGyver. He seemed like such a great guy and I know you admire how smart he is. I'm trying to figure this all out, but none of it makes sense. Of all the people in the world, he and his friends are the last ones you should be hurting.

I mean, you shouldn't hurt anyone. Ever. Just, especially not them.

I'm okay. I do love you and I'll forgive you. Eventually, I guess. My foster family and I are okay. We came through the pandemic. We all got sick, but none of us had to be in the hospital. They didn't tell me, if you ever got sick or not. Anyway, I'm back in school. I won an art contest! I'll tell you about it later and send you pictures, if they let me.

I do love you, Dad, but you need to be good, okay?

Love,

Cassian

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monster adoption

Sun, 25 Oct 2020 05:01:28 GMT

Over the course of three generations, monsters came to the town of Oak Shade. And to the forest. And to the river. And, according to Old Lady Habich, to the mill yard. Of course, Lady Habich was known to be a bit overfond of a nip of sherry. Ahem. No one was overly surprised at the arrival of the monsters. Everyone needed somewhere to go. Everyone knew that nothing was forever, not people, not towns, not nations. The only thing that seemed to last was the War Time, when thousands of towns had been established, abandoned, then re-established. Finally, though, even the War Time had finally ended. Peace reigned and everyone settled into their homes, setting down roots, including the monsters.

The nosferatu came and settled in the abandoned manor house. They were most frequently seen, coming to town at dusk. The male, called Steffen, was tall, with black hair and black eyes. His wife, Lauren, had chestnut hair and pale, golden eyes.

People, human ones, understood this.

They were still afraid, of course. Monsters were, after all, monsters.

Henry Lofton was five years old and very afraid of the monsters. They liked the dark and the dark was scary. Henry was sure that the monsters were responsible for the soft, slithery sounds outside his window, the ones that only came at night. Monsters, Henry was sure, liked tromping around outside at night.

Only someone awful and very wrong would be out, once the sun was down, unless it was an emergency. Daddy had gone outside at night sometimes, usually when one of their animals was in distress. Daddy wasn't awful, but, Henry conceded, Daddy was wrong. Daddy was laying in bed with Mommy and neither of them was moving. True, their horrid, coughing sounds had stopped, but so had everything else. Now, Daddy just stared at the ceiling, looking tired. Henry supposed Daddy was sleeping now, so maybe that was okay, but Henry was afraid.

Monsters were scary, but death was scarier. Death was so scary, that Henry was sitting outside in the moonlight. So, something was wrong with him too! Henry gave a hiccupy sob, wrapping his blanket more tightly around his shoulders. He didn't dare sleep, in case the monsters came to get him. All he could do was sit and wait. He knew how to get to their nearest neighbor's house, a mere mile or two down a dirt path. The Rodericks would know what to do, would help him. That's what adults were for, right? All he had to do was survive the night. Outside. With the monsters.

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the better killer

Thu, 15 Oct 2020 04:59:11 GMT

Tuesday, April 11. 11:30 P.M.

Ellen considered bitterly the irony of shivering. The boiler room was hot and humid. The chains hanging from the ceiling were coated in rust and grime, swaying slightly. Her cotton nightdress clung to her skin with sweat. Yet, Ellen felt almost as if she were freezing, goosebumps standing out on her arms and legs, as a chill crawled over her back.

Terror, she supposed, would do that to you.

Whimpering, Ellen walked slowly up the stairs, hoping to find an exit or a place to hide. She whirled, as metal scraped against metal behind her. A note of protest erupted from her throat. She wasn't alone anymore. A shadowy figure stood next to the boiler, running a glove with knives lovingly over the top, chuckling thickly.

"El-len," it crooned. "Come play with Freddy!"

Ellen shook her head, forcing herself to move up the stairs, but not daring to turn her back on the twisted caricature of evil.

"Leave me alone," she tried to demand, drawing more laughter from Freddy.

"Awwwww. Whatsamatter? Is the piggy scared?"

Freddy winked out of sight and Ellen felt cold metal touch one shoulder and slick flesh the other. Desperate, Ellen flung herself forward, less afraid of the stairs than the monster behind her. She rolled down, managing to avoid hitting her head. Her arms, though, flailed wildly and her elbow came down on the last step with a sickening crunch.

Howling in pain, Ellen woke up. Tearing off her sheet and blanket, Ellen stood frantically, trying to control the ragged sobbing of her breath. Her door banged open, almost closing again, after bouncing off the opposite wall. It was caught and held open.

"Ellen? Are you all right?" her father, Alex, demanded.

"I hurt my arm," Ellen whispered. "I think I broke it."

Thursday, April 13. 12:30 P.M.

Ellen walked carefully, balancing her lunch tray uneasily. It started to slide to the floor, but a quick hand caught it, keeping it steady, as Ellen adjust her grip.

"Here. Let me set my tray down and I'll help you," her foster brother, Cassian, offered, smiling warmly.

"Thanks, Cassian," Ellen agreed wearily.

Cassian set his tray down at a nearby table, then came back for hers. He set it down across from his own and Ellen sat down gratefully.

"Are you okay? I mean..."

"Mm. I know. I am. I think."

"You seem tired."

"Well, emergency rooms aren't really restful. Wanna hear something stupid?"

"Sure."

"I've been having nightmares. In my dream, I flung myself down a flight of stairs. My elbow hit the bottom of the stairs and broke."

"So, that made you fall out of bed and break your arm for real," Cassian concluded, shaking his head. "That sucks, El. I'm sorry."

"Thanks. I got lucky, though. The break is super clean."

"You've had a lot of bad dreams?"

"Yeah, ever since we got that assignment about researching our families. I chose my mom's family and it gets really creepy."

"Creepy how?"

"If I tell you, will you promise not to laugh or tell anyone else? 'Cause, I'm thinking of going with my dad's side of the family, instead."

"I promise," Cassian said, gazing steadily at her, unsmiling.

"My great-grandfather was a serial killer, Freddy Krueger. He killed a bunch of kids, then got murdered by their parents. My grandma didn't know, until she was an adult, even that she was adopted."

"Your parents told you that?" Cassian whispered, shocked.

"Oh, hell no!" Ellen disagreed, laughing. "I was going through stuff in my mom's filing cabinet and found grandma's adoption papers. Then, I did a little internet research."

"Makes sense," Cassian said, shrugging.

"You're not gonna make any stupid jokes or anything, are you?" Ellen asked, swallowing painfully.

"No!" Cassian assured her. "Actually, I get it. You know my dad is in prison. That's why I'm living with your family."

"Yeah, but your dad probably didn't kill anyone."

"Well, not a bunch of kids, but...I think he might have. They won't tell me what he's in jail for and I don't think they'd keep it so secret, if all he did was rob a bank."

"Yeah. Do you think he killed a lot of people?"

"I don't know. I can't picture him killing anyone. He's a great dad."

"I'm sorry. At least my family skeleton is a distant ancestor. I don't have to miss him or anything."

"Sure, but I get you having bad dreams. That's scary stuff."

"Thanks. You haven't visited your dad in a while."

"No, he did something and lost his privileges. I will, though. I'm sure he'll work something out, so I can see him. He's smart and I know he wants to see me."

"I hope you get to see your dad."

"I hope you stop dreaming about Freddy."

"Thanks, Cassian."

Friday, April 14. 2 A.M.

Ellen walked past the boiler, stopping abruptly. Freddy sat, sprawled out on the stairs, right on the step where she had broken her arm.

"Hello, Ellen. It's time we got to know each other better."

"No. This is just a dream."

"Awwww, but you're such a special little piggy," Freddy crooned, leaning forward, his lips spread in a ghastly smile, revealing rotten teeth. "Don't you wanna spend time with grandpa?"

"Y-you were a killer," Ellen accused, barely able to force the words out.

"AM!" Freddy corrected, snarling. "I AM a killer."

Ellen flinched, backing away. Freddy smiled again, a certain sly twist to his lips.

"Don't be afraid, Ellen. We're going to have a lot of fun together. You're going to help Grandpa Freddy with his special work."

"Help you?"

"Mmmmhmmmmm. I can't reach the other piggies. This isn't Elm Street. I can only reach you. But, you can bring them to me," Freddy explained, brandishing his glove knives for her to see, "because you share my blood!"

Freddy emphasized the last word by drawing one of the knives across the palm of his other hand, releasing a spray of blood, wetting the floor. Ellen screamed, as Freddy laughed loudly.

"NOW, let's see who we should play with first," Freddy said, flicking his tongue rapidly.

A huge television appeared next to Ellen, showing her sitting outside the school, with some of her friends. Ellen whimpered, watching herself laugh with Laura, Jess, and Gabby. Freddy made a pleased sound from deep in his chest and the television zoomed in, focusing on Gabby.

"NO! Leave Gabby alone," Ellen said, glancing rapidly back and forth between Freddy and the television.

"Aww, don't fret, piggy," Freddy said, chuckling, as he reached into the television. "I just wanna say hi!"

Freddy grabbed Gabby's hair, pulling her kicking and screaming into the boiler room.

"No, no," Ellen screamed, rushing forward.

"Wake up, brat!" Freddy commanded, flicking his glove at Ellen in contempt.

Ellen started awake, screaming and crying. Jenna, her mom, was sitting next to her, holding her shoulders.

"Ellen!" Jenna cried out. "It's just a dream, baby, wake up."

"I'm awake," Ellen whispered. "Gabby..."

"What about Gabby, baby?"

"He has her. Freddy has Gabby."

"Freddy? Freddy who?"

"Freddy Krueger."

"Honey. Freddy Krueger has been dead for decades," Jenna reminded her gently. "He can't hurt you or anyone."

"My arm..."

"You broke your arm by falling out of bed. It was just an accident. Now, close your eyes."

"I don't wanna sleep."

"Ellen. Baby. It's the middle of the night."

Ellen whimpered, starting to cry. Jenna sighed, shifting around so she was stretched out next to Ellen, leaning against her headboard. Looking around, Jenna noted with saddened amusement that all the cheerful creams and greens that colored Ellen's room had turned gray and black in the dark. Jenna pulled Ellen close, cradling her as if she were a smaller child.

"It's all right. I'll stay right here, until you're asleep again. I'm right here, baby."

Friday, April 14. 10 A.M.

Ellen walked slowly into the principal's office. Her mom sat in one of the chairs in front of Principal Hayworth's desk, looking pale.

"Ellen, please sit down," Hayworth said, kindly.

"What's wrong?" Ellen asked, trembling, even as she obeyed.

"Oh, baby. There's no easy way to say this," Jenna told her, her eyes wet. "Baby, Gabby died last night."

"She was killed?" Ellen shrieked, her breath becoming sobs.

"She died of an aneurysm in her brain," Hayworth said, stunned. "What made you think that?"

"She's been having nightmares, lately," Jenna explained, reproachfully. "But, baby, the principal is right. Gabby died of natural causes. Something just went wrong in her brain."

"No. No," Ellen denied, weeping and shaking her head. "She's my age. We don't just die. Not like old people."

"I wish that was true," Hayworth said. "Take a few minutes..."

"I'm taking her home," Jenna said, sharply. "You can't expect her to just suck it up and go back to class."

"Uh, yes, of course," Hayworth conceded. "I'm very sorry."

Friday, still the 14th. 4 P.M.

Ellen looked up, flinching as footsteps came up behind her. Cassian stared down at her, smiling sadly.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"Hi, Cassian."

Cassian sat next to her, opening his mouth, then closing it with a shake of his head.

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything. I know you're sorry. Everyone is."

"Are you okay?"

"No."

"She was one of your best friends."

"It's not just that. Do you think it's true? That you can be crazy, like, really crazy, and no one around you notice?"

"I guess so, if you work hard at hiding it."

"What if you're not trying to hide it? What if you think you're sane, too, but you're not?"

"Well, if you think you're not crazy and no one else does either, what's to say you are?"

"I think Gabby was murdered."

Cassian blinked.

"I thought she died of a stroke?"

"Hayworth said aneurysm. But, he's wrong. I dreamed about her death last night. Just like I dreamed about breaking my arm."

"That's not possible. You can't dream someone to death. Maybe some part of you, some primal part, recognized that she was sick and in danger."

"I'm not saying I killed her by dreaming about it. Not exactly. I think..."

"What? It's okay. We're just talking."

"In my dream, Freddy used me to bring Gabby into the dream. He said I could bring people to him."

"You think your great-grandfather killed Gabby?" Cassian asked, carefully.

"Stupid and crazy," Ellen scoffed. "I know, okay?"

"Not stupid," Cassian objected, strongly. "Crazy, sure, but not stupid."

"Still crazy."

Cassian sighed, not speaking for a few moments, considering.

"The idea is crazy, but maybe you're allowed to be, for a bit. You broke your arm, your friend died, and you've been having awful dreams. I think you're allowed to be a bit crazy. Anyway, life is crazy sometimes."

"Do you think I could be right?"

"Honestly, no. I don't want the world to be that messed up."

"The world's messed up either way. Gabby is still dead."

Ellen made a small, choking sound and Cassian scooted closer, placing his arm around her shoulder.

"Tell me something good," she pleaded.

"I'm getting to see my dad next weekend," Cassian said, unable to hide his happiness.

"Good," Ellen said, trying to smile.

Monday, April 17. 10 P.M.

Ellen whimpered, looking around the boiler room. She hadn't had this dream, since Gabby's death. She'd hoped it was over.

"Elll-en," Freddy crooned, appearing out of the shadows and flames, chuckling wetly. "Time to play, sweetie. Come on. Gabby made me stronger, so now we can start to really play!"

"No. No more. It's not fair! You're dead. You're not supposed to hurt people, if you're dead."

"HA! Says who? I'm just getting started! But, we need more playmates, more piggies! Come on, Ellen. Show me who you got!"

"NO! I DON'T WANT TO!" Ellen screamed, turning and running.

"ELLEN!" Freddy boomed, his voice echoing towards her, as if from a long distance.

Ellen panted, not slowing down, but running hard to get away. She shrieked, as Freddy appeared in front of her, skidding to a stop. She missed him by inches.

"Hey," Freddy said, casually, as if having a sudden idea. "Let's have an assembly!"

The boiler room faded and Ellen found herself standing on the school's theater stage. The bleachers were full of students, some she had never spoken to, but only passed in the halls. Ellen shivered. The students' skin and clothes were faded and gray looking, as if they were from a bad photograph. They stared at the stage with somber expressions and empty eyes.

Ellen stood to one side of the stage. In the center, a small group of children, boys and girls dressed all in white, played hopscotch.

"One, two, Freddy's coming for you,
Three, four, better lock your door,
Five, six, grab your crucifix,
Seven, eight, better stay up late,
Nine, ten, never sleep again," they sang, in eerie, cheerful voices.

As they sang, certain students were suddenly lit by spotlights, some color returning to them. Ellen's friends, Karen, Jessie, Michael, Anna, and Cassian began looking around, confused.

"No, no, no," Ellen chanted, desperately. "Wake up! Guys! Wake up, now!"

Cassian focussed on her, frowning.

"Ellen?"

"One piggy at a time, please," Freddy crooned, clicking his glove's fingers together. "Oh, Ellen. We're going to have so much fun!"

Karen and Michael faded away, while Jessie and Anna huddled together, whimpering in fear.

"Cassian, it's my nightmare!" Ellen warned. "Run!"

"You can run, but you can't hide," Freddy teased, as heavy iron bars crashed down over the doors and windows.

Chains appeared on the children's ankles. Darting forward, Ellen back-handed Cassian sharply, sobbing in relief as he faded away.

"Naughty brat," Freddy snarled, grabbing Ellen by the back of her nightdress and throwing her into Jessie and Anna.

Ellen came awake, wincing at the pain in her neck and back. She flinched, as her door swung open.

"Ellen?" Cassian asked, coming in and sitting on her bed.

"I had another nightmare. Freddy was picking friends of mine. You were there. We were at school and..."

"And Freddy was holding an assembly from hell. There were these weird kids on the stage, singing a nursery rhyme."

Ellen whimpered, nodding.

"You dreamed that too? Is that a real thing? Can people share dreams?"

"No, I don't think that's supposed to be possible. Tell me a line or two from the rhyme."

"One, two, Freddy's coming for you, three, four, better lock your door..."

"Five, six, grab your crucifix, seven, eight, better stay up late..."

"Nine, ten, never sleep again. Sounds like good advice to me!"

"We'll die, eventually, if we don't sleep."

"Or we fall asleep and Freddy kills us."

"Yeah. Your grandfather sucks."

"What do we do? Adults aren't going to believe us!"

"I don't know. Take turns sleeping? One person sleeps and the other person wakes them up, if they start dreaming badly. At least, until we figure something out."

"Like what?"

"I don't know," Cassian admitted, sadly, shrugging helplessly. "I mean, he's basically a ghost, right? There's gotta be a way to exorcise him."

"I guess so."

Saturday, April 22. 1 p.m.

"Dad!" Cassian exclaimed happily, throwing himself into Murdoc's arms. Murdoc hugged his son, ruffling his hair.

"How are you doing, buddy?" Murdoc asked.

"I'm okay," Cassian lied, making Murdoc frown.

"You don't look okay. Are you feeling all right?"

Cassian grimaced. He knew better than to lie to his dad. It never worked and Cassian knew he looked rough. Sleeping only every other night was harder than it sounded.

"I haven't been sleeping well," Cassian admitted.

"Come sit down and talk to me. How's your surrogate family?"

"They're great. This isn't their fault..." Cassian protested, obeying and sitting down in the chair provided for him.

"What isn't?" Murdoc asked, fighting to keep his tone gentle.

"Dad...do you believe in ghosts?"

Murdoc blinked, a bit surprised at the change in subject, but shrugged.

"I don't disbelieve in them. I've never encountered one, but I've seen enough of this world to know it can be strange and we humans don't know as much as we think we do."

"If ghosts do exist, do you think they could hurt living people? Maybe even kill them?"

"Well. I don't know," Murdoc mused, shrugging. "Ghosts are just dead people. I don't see why someone who never killed, when alive, would suddenly kill, when they're dead."

"What if they did kill, when they were alive?"

"Are we talking about anyone in particular?" Murdoc asked, confused and wary.

"Well, someone like...Freddy Krueger. For instance. Do you know who that is?"

"Yeah, I'm familiar with that little piece of history. I'm wondering why you are. That's pretty rough stuff, buddy."

"He's Aunt Jenna's grandfather. Her mom was adopted, when Krueger was killed."

"You were placed with the granddaughter of a serial killer?" Murdoc asked, his voice rising against his will.

"It's not her fault!" Cassian defended, frowning.

"No, no, it's just...ironic," Murdoc said, forcing his tone to even out.

"You killed someone, didn't you?" Cassian asked, sadly.

Murdoc stared silently at him, his eyes wide and glittering, his face taut.

"Never mind," Cassian assured him. "I don't really want to know."

"Cassian, my crimes...look, we can discuss that later, if you really need to. Right now, though, I want to know what's going on."

"Okay, but you're going to think I'm crazy."

"Well, I actually am crazy. That's now official, so spill the beans, kiddo."

"Ellen and me have been having crazy dreams about Krueger. Like, once or twice, we both dreamed the exact same thing. And recently, she dreamt one of her friends died and it turns out she really did."

Murdoc stiffened, feeling a spike of cold in his chest. He experienced intense emotions only rarely and it always amazed him how painful they were. Honestly, he just didn't understand why people thought emotions were good things!

"A kid you know died?"

"Yeah. Everyone says it was an aneurysm, but..."

"You think it was Freddy."

"I know that's dumb, Dad, I really do!" Cassian pleaded. "I mean, I don't get why he killed when he was alive. Why would he as a ghost?"

"Men like Krueger feed on fear. It's their drug. It makes them feel special and important."

"I am scared, though. I can't just not be. He's horrible, Daddy...mean and burned, with that awful glove..."

"You both had the same dream?"

"Yeah, exactly the same. Well, we did once or twice. We're never asleep at the same time anymore."

Murdoc's eyes squeezed shut, as he realized what that meant.

"You're taking turns sleeping and waking each other up?"

"We couldn't think of anything else. How do you get rid of a ghost?"

"There's a way," Murdoc assured him, firmly. "Listen to me, buddy. I want you to look at me."

Murdoc knelt in front of Cassian, staring deeply into his son's weary gaze.

"If Krueger is real, he can be beaten. Destroyed. I promise you that."

"But, he's not human. Not anymore."

"He started that way, though. Think about it. Have you ever heard of a monster that didn't have an Achilles heel? Most of them can be taken out with fire, according to the old tales. Krueger has a weakness. We just have to find it."

"So, you believe me?" Cassian asked, eyes wide, somewhere between disbelief and hope.

"I know you're not lying and you're a smart kid. You wouldn't believe this, without good reasons."

"What do I do?"

"Hang in there. Buy me some time. Hopefully, it won't take me too long to figure something out."

Sunday. April 23rd. 3 p.m.

Riley sat down in the visitor's chair across from Murdoc, frowning severely. The maniac smiled at her, looking pleased as punch.

"Okay, I'm here. What do you want, Murdoc?"

"It's always good to see you, dear Riley. I want to do a little exchange of favors, of course. I need you to do some research for me."

"What kind of research?"

Murdoc sighed, leaning back in his chair.

"I want you to investigate a man named Freddy Krueger..."

"The serial killer? Hell, Murdoc, that sicko's been explored on every true-crime drama ever."

"Yes, but it's not his life that I want information on. I want information on the aftermath of his death. What happened to the people that killed him? Anything strange?"

"Strange how?"

"Unusual deaths...especially if anyone connected to him, in any way, died in their sleep."

"Dying in your sleep isn't all that unusual, Murdoc. What exactly do you want me to find?" Riley pressed, annoyed.

"I don't know!" Murdoc snapped, barely keeping himself from screaming at her. "Anything. Everything. I don't know what the information I need will look like."

Riley leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest and shaking her head.

"Why?"

"Because, if you do this for me, I'll give you some juicy secrets about Codex that the Organization is keeping."

"More bank account numbers?" Riley asked, dryly.

Murdoc leaned forward, smirking.

"That bank account number led you to your mole, yes? However, what I will give you for this is far more substantial."

"You must want this information pretty badly."

"Oh, I do, yes," Murdoc agreed, then sighed again, shrugging in exasperation. "It's about Cassian. I'm trying to protect him."

"From what?" Riley asked, allowing a bit of concern to surface.

"Well, that, dear Riley, is what you're going to find out for me."

"Yeah, but...Krueger is dead."

"Burned alive by the parents of his victims," Murdoc recited. "But, I just suspect that isn't the actual end of the story. Especially let me know, if you find out any weird information connecting him and dreams."

"Dreams."

"Mmhmm."

"You're nuts, Murdoc."

"That is a very well-established fact, dear Riley. Do we have a deal?"

"Yeah, fine," Riley agreed, shrugging and standing. "One portfolio of a very dead killer coming right up."

"Thank you."

Riley blinked, Murdoc's sincerity throwing her off balance. She gave a slight nod and strode away, hoping Murdoc really was just being crazy and not plotting something.

Wednesday. April 26th. 2 p.m.

Murdoc picked up the cell phone that had been pushed to him through his food slot. He started to say hello, but recognized the sound of his son, crying.

"Cassian, what's wrong?" Murdoc asked, pushing away the creeping dread that made his skin crawl.

"Michael is dead," Cassian sobbed. "He was...they're trying to say it was suicide, but that just...Daddy, Krueger killed him! It had to be Krueger!"

"Cassian, take a deep breath and let it out slowly..."

"I can't! Krueger killed Michael!" Cassian all but screamed into the phone.

"Yes, you can," Murdoc said firmly. "We need to talk and we can't with you like this. Now take that breath."

He listened as Cassian all but swallowed a huge gulp of breath, then released it.

"Now. What happened to Michael?"

"He...he fell off the roof of his house."

"Why are you so sure it wasn't a suicide?"

"I knew Michael, Dad," Cassian said reproachfully. "Anyways, I mean, yes, his house is two-story, but simply falling like that...he was too banged up. It wasn't just a broken neck or something. All of his bones were broken. It was like he'd fallen off a cliff. They're gonna have to have a closed casket funeral."

"And the adults there told you that?" Murdoc asked, furious.

"Well, no. Michael's older brother did. He...Michael told him about the dreams and seeing us in them. Josh feels awful, because he didn't believe Michael."

"Cassian...buddy, I need you to hang on. I have someone looking into this for me, but there's nothing I can do, until I get more information."

"I know, but...Dad. Michael didn't. He just didn't."

"I know. I know you're scared, but I'm going to protect you, buddy. I just need a little more time."

"Yeah. I just wanted you to know. I gotta go. Aunt Jenna is taking us home."

"You're still at school?"

"Yeah. I told them I needed to use the bathroom."

"Okay. Well, you go back, now. Be as careful as you can."

"I will. I love you, Daddy."

"I love you, too, son," Murdoc assured him, still surprised at how easily the words came, true as they were.

Murdoc hung up and dialed Riley.

"Hello?"

"Riley. How is the research coming?"

"How did you get a phone?"

"I have phone privileges, occasionally. Cassian called me a few minutes ago."

"Yeah, we heard about his friend. Matty is actually on her way to see you."

"Oh. Excellent. Then I'll return this to the guard."

"She'll be there in twenty."

Murdoc waited impatiently, barely keeping himself from fidgeting in his chair. Matty came in and Murdoc couldn't help beaming with pleasure. MacGyver was with her.

"Boyscout! What a pleasant surprise!"

"Murdoc," MacGyver greeted gravely, as he and Matty sat down in front of Murdoc.

"I think I have what you were looking for," Matty announced, shoving a thick file across the table to Murdoc. "For a dead man, Krueger gets blamed for a lot of death and Springwood is officially the weirdest place I've ever heard of."

"Why is that?"

"The teenage death rate is about five times higher than anywhere else in the U.S.," MacGyver answered. "And a lot of those...well, suicide seems to be the default explanation for anything that defies explanation."

"Yeah, teens have been dying, in and out of institutions, mental hospitals mainly, for decades, starting with every single child of the people suspected of killing Krueger," Matty added. "And, every single one that was hospitalized complained about nightmares."

"After his death?" Murdoc prodded.

"Yes. A few of his suspected killers died, too. Murdered."

"Krueger's body was found about fifteen years ago, in a junkyard," MacGyver said, shrugging.

"So, you don't think it's him," Murdoc concluded, shrugging.

MacGyver and Matty exchanged a long glance, before Matty cleared her throat, while MacGyver picked at the fabric covering his knee.

"Like I said, a lot of teenagers ended up in institutions and, as teenagers do, a lot of them kept journals...including Nancy Thompson, whose father was the officer who arrested Krueger. She talks about him stalking her in her dreams. About ten years after Krueger's death, when Nancy was in high school, a bunch of teens in Springwood died...including Nancy's boyfriend, Glen."

"There's photos in there of the crime scene," MacGyver added.

Murdoc found the relevant photos and blinked in pure astonishment.

"What? The kid went to sleep with farm equipment?"

"Except none was found. Nothing was found. No explanation was ever given."

"Teenage deaths seemed to come in waves," Matty continued. "Officially...the explanations are actually pretty weak. The local authorities insist the deaths aren't connected, despite the similarities."

"Perfect," Murdoc drawled, dropping the photos, huffily.

"It gets weirder," MacGyver said, shifting in discomfort. "Nancy's mother died the same night as Glen. Her father investigated and found Krueger's hat and gloves, hidden in her basement."

"Her basement?"

"The Thompsons were divorced. Springwood also has a very high divorce rate."

"Ooo, the killer's killers kept trophies!" Murdoc quipped, amused.

"Maybe," Matty admitted, "but that's not what Nancy said."

"Oh?"

"Well, first off, it's a fedora. There's no way it could have survived the fire that killed Krueger. The newspaper reports made a pretty big deal about the intensity of the blaze. And, Nancy claimed in her journal that she brought Krueger's hat out from her dream. She grabbed it off his head, just as she woke up."

"Any chance I can talk to her?" Murdoc asked eagerly.

"No, because she's dead. She was killed at the asylum where she was working, when another batch of teenagers was dying. But, the hat, according to her journal, is what finally convinced her that her nightmares were real."

"So, supposedly, a bunch of teenagers believe Krueger can come back and kill them in their dreams?"

"That's the urban legend, yes."

"Hm. What happened to the hat?"

Matty reached into her duffel bag and pulled out Freddy's hat.

"We confiscated it from the Springwood Police Department," MacGyver admitted.

"Is that legal?" Murdoc asked, amused.

"I pulled some strings," Matty admitted, shrugging.

"The rules in this place are so strict," Murdoc lamented. "I'd love to see you try and burn that thing."

"It's just a hat," MacGyver assured Murdoc, taking out his swiss army knife and piercing the brim of the hat, which took it passively.

"Oh, so you do realize that can be a weapon!" Murdoc cried out, delighted.

"Don't get your hopes up," MacGyver advised him, drily.

"Spoilsport. So, are you going to get me out of here?"

"Why?" Matty asked, a bit gently. "Even if we did, this guy's still a ghost, Murdoc. How do you kill a dream?"

"By making it as real as that hat. I bring him out of the dream, into reality, and kill him here. Ah well. I didn't think you'd go for it, but figured I'd ask."

"One hundred and four," MacGyver announced, cryptically.

"Meaning what?"

"That's the minimum amount of lives destroyed, directly and indirectly, by Freddy Krueger," MacGyver explained grimly. "Drug and alcohol abuse are also very high in Springwood."

"So, you are going to get me out?" Murdoc asked, blinking, then narrowing his eyes, his gaze sharpening. "Why?"

"Because Krueger is a problem and we need someone to finish him."

"And, you don't want the intelligence community to think you've gone insane, chasing after a ghost," Murdoc finished, chuckling.

"A problem we don't have with you. However, I'm not totally on board with your kill plan," Matty said, a bit sharply. "For one thing, Nancy tried that already."

"What happened?"

"She wrote in her journal, after her mom died, that she succeeded in bringing Krueger out of the dream world, then she robbed him of his power, by turning her back on him."

Murdoc sat back, his mouth slightly open and working ever so slightly.

"I'm sorry, Matilda, but she did what now?"

"It's a Balinese dream theory. You turn your back on the monster in your dreams and steal its power."

"She turned her back on someone trying to kill her."

"Well, it's a bit more complicated than that, but yes," Matty agreed, shrugging.

Murdoc leaned forward, folding his hands together.

"I promise you, Matilda, I am not going to turn my back on Freddy Krueger. I will be looking right at him, as I fill him with bullets."

"You have to get him out of the dream world, first," MacGyver reminded him, rolling his eyes. "And, from what we've learned, Freddy can't get to you, so you can't get to him."

"Yes, which means we need bait."

"Jenna can do it," Murdoc said, smiling. "You know. The granddaughter of a serial killer that you left my son with."

"Jenna is a good, loving person," Matty said, flatly, staring hard at him. "And, her husband is my cousin. I put Cassian with the best family I could find."

"Oh. Really?" Murdoc asked, intrigued.

"Yes, really. Did you expect me to predict something like Krueger?"

"Mmm, probably not," he conceded. "But, we still need someone to drag Krueger into reality."

"We'll talk to Jenna about it," Matty promised.

Wednesday. April 26th. 7:21 P.M.

Jenna stared at the convict Matty had brought into her home, before leaving on a mysterious errand. Murdoc sat on the other side of her dining table, dark eyes shining coldly, with a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. He was a handsome man, but even that only made him seem more uncanny. Murdoc stared steadily at her, making her feel like a mouse confronting a snake. This was Cassian's father? That wonderful boy came from this?

"I really don't know about all this. It's insane!" Jenna protested.

"Yes, well, I'm sorry to disrupt your neat, little life, but knock, knock!" Murdoc said, his tone light and cutting. "It's the real world calling and the real world, Jenna darling, is dark, dangerous, and strange."

"That's not news to me," Jenna told him, flatly, her mouth tightening.

"Murdoc, play nice," Macgyver ordered. "Jenna, I know how this sounds, but I saw Michael's body and... something is going on here. I promised Murdoc I would protect Cassian and I'm making you the same promise about Ellen."

"I don't really know what you want me to do."

"Go to sleep, dream, and find Krueger," Murdoc explained, slowly.

"I know about lucid dreaming, but I've never done it!"

"Hopefully, that won't matter," MacGyver said kindly. "You're his granddaughter. If he knows you're looking for him, he'll find you. That's what we need to find out."

"Dad!"

Everyone turned, as Cassian burst into the dining room, followed closely by Ellen.

"This is your dad?" Ellen asked, studying Murdoc with open curiosity, as Cassian flung his arms around his dad's neck.

"I am and you must be Ellen," Murdoc greeted, his tone softening, placing an arm around his son's shoulders.

"Don't frighten her," Jenna warned, wincing, when Cassian gave her a look of hurt reproach.

Murdoc just tilted his head to one side, as if not comprehending why Jenna would be worried.

"I'm not afraid of him, Mom. Everyone else seems tame compared to Freddy. I wish someone would make him afraid for once."

"Well, it so happens that's why I'm here," Murdoc assured her. "I'm going to stop him."

"How? He's a ghost," Cassian reminded him.

"Only in the dream world, I think..."

"Murdoc!" MacGyver said, sharply, shaking his head.

"Let him talk," Ellen said, glaring. "No one believes me anyway."

"Ellen, baby, we just..."

"You've been let down," Murdoc interrupted, his voice smooth, but not soothing. "And, you and Cassian have been very brave. But, dealing with Freddy is not your job."

"Because we're children," Ellen clarified, bitterly.

"Because I have a specific skill set that this situation needs. There's nothing wrong with needing help, Ellen. Some very powerful people have hired me to take care of things they couldn't."

"We couldn't figure out a way to stop him," Ellen admitted, her breath becoming uneven, as she held back tears.

"Yes, well, to be fair, Freddy is a very remarkable problem. The good news is we do have a plan."

"I'm going to help," Ellen insisted.

"You are going to stay awake," Murdoc countered, smiling. "I need Freddy's attention on your mother."

"M-mom?"

Ellen stared at her mom, worry and grief adding unnatural lines of age to her young face. Jenna forced herself to smile calmly, nodding.

"It's okay, baby. We just want to try an experiment."

"Speaking of experiments, I have something that will let the children sleep safely."

Matty came in the door, waving a white bag.

"Then all of this isn't necessary?" Jenna asked, hopefully.

"It's very necessary," Matty retorted, frowning. "I managed to get hold of a dream suppressant called hypnocil. It is not recommended for long-term use."

"A drug? Matty..."

"Jenna. Until Krueger is dealt with, it's the only way we can know the children are safe."

"Do you approve of this?" Jenna asked Murdoc, hoping for even an unlikely ally.

"I trust Matty," Murdoc said simply, shrugging.

"Thank you, Murdoc. Jenna?"

Jenna grimaced, but nodded.

"Good."

Same night. 11:31 p.m.

Jenna dreamed of floating down a dark stream, in a tunnel. Spots of light came and went, but Jenna was almost as afraid of them, as she was of the dark. She was supposed to be looking for something, but she couldn't remember what.

"Jeeennnnaaaa..." a gravelly voice sang from the air, not seeming to have a source, taunting her.

Jenna stood up in the stream, looking around her wildly. The water suddenly stank and she carefully didn't examine the sudden debris she could feel brushing past her. The dream gained a clarity Jenna found repulsive. Shivering, despite the damp heat, Jenna walked to one side of the stream. The shore grew wider the closer Jenna got to it. As she climbed onto the shore, the stream disappeared. A few more paces and Jenna found herself surrounded by concrete and metal. A hissing boiler loomed on one side of the room.

"What do you want, bitch?" the gravelly voice demanded, contemptuously.

Jenna whirled, shocked and afraid to find herself facing her notorious ancestor. She thought of Ellen, facing this figure, night after night.

"I...I needed to know, if you're real. Ellen..."

"Tsk, tsk, it's not nice to tell lies, little girl," Freddy scolded, smirking. "Ellen didn't send you to me."

Jenna tried not to think about Murdoc, fairly certain the killer wanted his presence to remain a secret.

"Pretty clever, bringing a killer to deal with me," Freddy crooned, dashing that hope. "It won't WORk!"

He ended on a shout, darting forward and dragging Jenna close. He held up his glove, the tips of his knives hovering above her eyes.

"He doesn't have power. I do," Freddy hissed. "I can't BE killed."

Jenna whimpered, wishing Murdoc was here, instead of her. Freddy had to be wrong, right? Matty wouldn't have brought that awful man to her house, her home, if he couldn't help! She thought of Murdoc's cold, calm eyes and felt a tugging sensation.

"I'm not sure this is what people mean, when they talk about family moments," Murdoc mused, his incisive voice cutting through the tension.

He strolled around the boiler room, examining its shadows and corners, amusement tilting the edges of his mouth. Freddy gave a low snarl, shoving Jenna away and taking a step closer to the intruder. Murdoc turned, eyebrows raised.

"Sorry. Did I interrupt?" he asked, unrepentantly, walking closer to Jenna, making a shooing motion with his hand. "I think you can wake up now, thanks."

Jenna nodded, reminding herself that, in the end, this was a dream. With a jerk, her breathing harsh, she came awake, leaving the killers alone.

Freddy smirked, clicking his finger knives together. The intruder...Murdoc? He really called himself that?! Murdoc just stood there, that repulsive smile on his mouth, fueling Freddy's rage.

"Why are you here? You fucking my bitch grand-daughter?"

"Ew," Murdoc laughed, shaking his head. "No offense, but she's not my type."

"She's boring," Freddy conceded. "So? You just here for a tour?"

"Well. I mean, the nightmare thing is a bit impressive, honestly. As hideouts go, this one is a winner! But, no."

"You think you can stop me," Freddy guessed, snickering.

"Mm," Murdoc hummed, non-committedly. "I certainly intend to try."

"Why bother? You're a killer, too. You know what it's like. Maybe we could team up."

"Why bother? Neither of us has anything the other needs. And, neither is stupid enough to trust the other."

Freddy glared, disappointed that Murdoc couldn't be toyed with. Still, he was just a man.
Freddy reached into Murdoc's mind, looking for his fears, his passions, his weaknesses.

He failed and was almost impressed. Very few adults had ever made their way into Freddy's nightmare. Their minds had been bright and layered, full of passions, motives, emotions, dark secrets, and juicy fears. Murdoc's mind was cold and twisted, his emotions dull. There was a disappointing lack of fear, a blasé acceptance of mortality, both Murdoc's own and others'. Freddy ground his teeth, digging deeper, but with no luck. Murdoc's mind was deliciously dark, but Murdoc didn't keep secrets.

He wore his bloodlust on his sleeve.

Murdoc wanted to kill Freddy.

Impossible, of course, but it made Freddy uneasy. Murdoc actively wanted to kill Freddy. It wasn't merely a matter of necessity, of protecting himself or some child. Everyone else who had ever fought Freddy had felt a hesitation, a revulsion at the deed. Some human part of them had rebelled at the thought of destroying any remaining humanity that existed in Freddy. That always made Freddy laugh with delight. He'd stopped being human, long before his own first kill. Murdoc was different and Freddy felt a chill rage at this other predator invading his home.

"Assassin, huh? Fancy. Whatever she's paying you, it isn't enough!" Freddy warned, chuckling wetly and waving his glove in a threatening arc.

"Assassin, yes, but I'm not getting paid for this, Freddy. I'm quite happy to take you out for free."

"Even if you live, you can't harm me! NOTHING can harm me."

"Well, that's what makes it fun, isn't it? Two killers squaring off, death inevitable," Murdoc coaxed.

"Okay, let's have some FUN!"

Freddy charged forward, using the dream to propel himself with inhuman speed at his victim. But, he was used to terrified children. Murdoc didn't cower or duck aside. He stood his ground, grabbing Freddy right before he struck. Heaving, Murdoc flung Freddy back across the room.

"So, other than the kill, what's in this for you? You some sort of danger junkie? Killing live people getting boring?"

"A bit, maybe. Mostly, you're...repulsive," Murdoc announced cheerfully. "And, you're not the first criminal garbage I've disposed of."

"And, you think you're what?" Freddy scoffed, angrily.

"Somewhat hypocritical," Murdoc admitted lightly, smiling.

"WHY ARE YOU HERE?!" Freddy bellowed, then gave a sudden hiss of satisfaction. "Oohhh. So, that's it. You're a piggy's daddy!"

"Cassian, yes. Your granddaughter has the privilege of raising my son."

"Some killer you are. You know the taste of blood and death, but you're wasting time protecting some brat!"

"Ahhh, nihilism. Trite," Murdoc huffed, bored. "You're really not anything unusual. Well, not until after you died. I mean, come on, preying on kiddies? What's special about that? You destroyed a few families and drove up some local statistics. In a rinky-dink little town, full of rinky-dink little people, before being taken down by the local constabulary."

"You think that's all I've done? I made myself immortal! I took death and pain and turned it into a meal! And you think you're better than me?"

Freddy threw back his head and laughed in pure contempt.

"I am better than you," Murdoc agreed, smirking. "You spent your time tormenting children in an otherwise unremarkable town. I've spent mine shaping international politics and helping criminal organizations weed out their weaker branches. My work has influenced nations. You're just so...small town."

"Nations. Who cares about that shit? I'm eternal and I'm gonna gut you. Fat lot of good your politics will do you, then."

"No," Murdoc disagreed, chuckling. "You won't kill me, because you need me to be afraid, first. Murder with no terror? You don't want that."

Freddy hissed, worried that Murdoc understood that. He needed his victims to be afraid. A large part of Freddy's power came from generating fear. Without that fear, there was no bond and Freddy couldn't feed as deeply.

"I can MAKE you afraid," Freddy boasted, "I know every dark and bloody thought that happens here!"

The boiler room disappeared, morphing into a small bedroom. The furniture was sturdy and fairly new, but plain. The blankets and sheets were plain green and blue and only a few toys could be seen sitting on a shelf. A full-length mirror Murdoc was fairly certain he hadn't actually owned reflected an image of Murdoc as a small child.

"Wow. Cassian really does look a lot like me."

"DENNIS! ARE YOU DOING YOUR HOMEWORK?" a sharp voice bellowed, just outside the door.

Murdoc sighed.

"Oh, no, not my childhood traumas!" Murdoc gasped, mockingly.

An image of Murdoc's dad stopped in the doorway, his hand still on the door. Murdoc studied the image. His father's image was dressed in crisp blue jeans and a light, button-up shirt. A slack, paisley tie hung loosely around his neck. He was an inch or two shorter than Murdoc, with watery eyes and slumped shoulders. Freddy studied Murdoc, disgusted by the unnatural calm on his childish face.

"He's really not very imposing is he?" Murdoc mused, chuckling. "A face only a child could fear. Heh. Really, Freddy, I hope you can do better than that."

The bedroom burst into flames. Freddy studied Murdoc, back in his adult form, certain the flames would instill terror in his opponent. Who didn't fear fire? Murdoc just studied the flames with fatalistic fascination, preparing to force himself awake. Freddy transformed the flames into the sweaty heat of the boiler room. He wasn't letting this pig go, until he found his fears!

"How about this?" Freddy asked, making a cascade of body parts fall from the ceiling in a gory mess.

Murdoc lifted his arms, carefully keeping Freddy in view. The flood of rotting flesh was short-lived and he shook his shoulders, making sure nothing was clinging to him.

"Oh, come on, Freddy. I've waded through battlefields. A bit of meat isn't going to frighten me."

"You might not be afraid for yourself, but how about Cassian? How about I make him next?"

Murdoc blew out a laugh, shaking his head and staring intently into Krueger's eyes. He almost seemed happy, but Krueger could read the tension in the man's shoulders and stance, could interpret the emptiness of everything burned away by fury.

"I'm not afraid for my son, because I can protect him," Murdoc said softly, his voice just above a whisper. "You're a bit slow, Freddy. Let me spell it out. You're not the hunter this time. I am."

"Go on, then! Do your worst!"

Freddy smirked, crossing his arms over his chest, the knives on his glove tapping against his arm. Murdoc just smiled, almost mildly, shaking his head.

"Not yet. Tomorrow night, Freddy, one of us will die."

Fear or no fear, Freddy shot a metal spike up from the floor to skewer Murdoc, but Murdoc was already gone, back to the waking world.

"Murdoc! Murdoc, wake up!" Matty commanded, shaking him.

Murdoc reared up, forcing Matty to back away. He took a deep breath, then laughed.

"What happened?"

"I pissed off Jenna's grandfather."

"You're bleeding, Murdoc," Matty told him, a note of concern breaking free from her control.

Murdoc looked down at himself and saw a small cut on his inner thigh, just above his knee.

"Ooops. That was a bit close."

"Murdoc. What. HAPPENED?"

"Jenna can get to Freddy. She pulled me into her dream, somehow, so I took the unexpected opportunity to have a little chat with him. Know thy enemy and all that."

"Did you learn anything useful from this 'little chat?'"

"No, just that Freddy and I despise each other, but that's hardly surprising."

"No, it isn't. Go bandage yourself up."

Murdoc obeyed, cleaning the cut and placing a band-aid over it. He came back to the living room, sitting on the couch, where he had been sleeping. Matty sat next to him, leaving a wide gap between them.

"I've already given Jenna some hypnocil. She's sleeping again. Do you want some?"

"No, I've slept enough. Save it for the children. Matty, why am I here? You're a decent enough shot."

"Not as good as you, though. Bringing you in does increase the chances of mission success. I'm needed for other things."

"Nurse-maiding Jenna?"

"Okay, spill it. Why don't you like her?"

"I'm a sociopath. I don't like people in general."

"This is more than that."

Murdoc shrugged elaborately.

"Fine. She's..." Murdoc trailed off, frowning.

"Freddy's granddaughter?"

"No. Utterly unimaginative. She never even considered the idea that Freddy was real."

"You said yourself the situation is remarkable."

"Yes, but I didn't completely dismiss my son's story, because of it."

"Oh, so it's her sanity you don't like."

"Yes!" Murdoc agreed, giving his widest, creepy grin.

"You really aren't good at making friends."

"True, but then she isn't the one I want to be friends with."

"Stop killing my employees," Matty suggested, pointedly.

Murdoc rolled his eyes, shrugging sharply.

"I was doing my job," he pronounced slowly.

"No one paid you to kill Jill, even if that was a good excuse. Which it isn't."

Murdoc gave a sharp chuckle.

"On the contrary, Matilda, I received money from two different sources, upon her death."

"Excuse me? She never even went into the field!" Matty protested, shaking her head.

Matty frowned, staring hard at Murdoc's bland expression. He didn't seem to be lying, but she couldn't imagine anyone, except him, wanting to hurt Jill. Murdoc shook his head, his mouth tight with anger, even though his lips were tilted into a slight smile.

"Come on, Matty. You must know the sort of information she was pursuing would need sources outside the Phoenix and not all of those sources are as discreet as your people. Did you think no one was paying attention? I wasn't the only one inconvenienced by all those juicy leads she gave you."

"They managed to trace her investigation back to the Phoenix."

"Mmhm. Riley is one of the best, but she isn't the only talented hacker in the world. Frankly, I think I treated you and the Phoenix rather well, all things considered."

"Oh, really?"

"Her leads included information on my son, but I still spared her...for a time. And, when her death became inevitable, I took the job and kept her death in the family, rather than letting an outsider kill her."

"Mac and Jack pursued you all across the globe and you never attacked them, like that."

"Mac and Jack cover their tracks. They never broadcast information between agencies that could get into the wrong hands. Benjamin Liu's hands."

"You should know I wouldn't let anything happen to Cassian. Even after Jill, you should have told me he'd been kidnapped, instead of blackmailing MacGyver."

"Mm, probably, but I wasn't ready to give up on raising him myself."

"And there it is--everything I'm fond of about you, side by side with everything I despise."

"Fair enough," he conceded, relaxing back against the couch. He tilted his head, studying her, his smile almost soft. "I'm fond of you, too."

"Prove it," Matty challenged mildly.

Murdoc blinked, then gave a slow smile, nodding in respect.

Thursday. April 27th. 9 A.M.

Murdoc dragged his heavily buttered toast through the creamy yolks of his fried eggs, popping the bread into his mouth with pleasure. MacGyver shook his head at the theatrical gesture, drawing Murdoc's attention.

"I have an idea, Boyscout..."

"No."

"Be nice, Angus, it's nothing you'll disapprove of," Murdoc assured him. "I think you should play scoutmaster for the kids. They can camp out in the backyard and you can find some brilliant way for them to roast marshmallows for s'mores, without actually starting a fire...or using the barbecue pit, which is just boring."

"Not boring for food," Alex disagreed. "If they're gonna camp out, they might as well do it on a meal of hamburgers and hotdogs."

"Um, yeah," MacGyver agreed, blinking a bit at the actually thoughtful request. "I can make something for that pretty easily."

"Excellent. That takes care of the kids. Now, we just need to settle on the rest of the sleeping arrangements. Awkward, but we need me in the same room, when Jenna pulls Freddy out of the dream world."

"Matty said she and Jenna were sleeping in the living room tonight. I guess I thought she was giving you a turn in the guest room," Alex said, confused.

Murdoc stared hard at him, eyes wide, then he threw back his head.

"MATILDA!!!"

"What are you bellowing about?" Matty asked, coming back from the living room.

Murdoc pointed sternly at her, his eyes wide and bright, his mouth twisted into a snarl.

"I know what you're planning!"

"That's nice," Matty retorted.

"NO, Matilda."

"I'm sorry. Were you under the impression that you're in charge?"

"You can't agree with this!" Murdoc snapped at MacGyver, turning on him.

"Okay, one, I have no idea what you're going on about, and two, Matty is my boss. She tells me what to do, not vice versa."

"Oh, sorry. Let me explain. Dear Matilda wants Jenna to pull her into Freddy's nightmare, so she can pull Freddy out!"

"Ah."

"Ah? AH?!"

"Murdoc."

Murdoc swiveled back to Matty, who smiled serenely at him.

"Do you want to kill Freddy?"

"Of course, I want to kill him," Murdoc scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Okay. Do you trust Jenna to grab Freddy and wake up, before he can kill her? Because you don't get to kill Freddy, if she simply goes to sleep and dies."

Murdoc leaned back in his chair, deflating, his mouth twisting in a sulk.

"Fine. You are in charge, after all."

"Damn right, I am. Now, you and Mac need to make arrangements for Krueger's corpse."

"Hallowed ground?"

"Better safe, than sorry, yes."

"Wait, hallowed ground?" Alex asked. "Shouldn't we be more discreet?"

"If Krueger was simply a terrorist or senator, sure," Murdoc agreed, shrugging lightly. "But, Krueger is a very unfriendly ghost, so unusual measures are called for."

"So, you're going to sneak a dead body into a graveyard and bury it without anyone noticing the new grave? Can you pull that off?"

"Tell you what, Alex, you leave the disposing of murder victims to me and I'll leave the accounting to you."

"I'm...not an accountant."

"So what?"

"So daylight is wasting," Matty scolded. "Get up and get going."

"Ooh! Yes ma'am!" Murdoc assured her, pushing away from the table, with a chuckle.
Rolling his eyes, MacGyver joined him, following Murdoc out the door.

"So," MacGyver said, climbing in the driver's side door. "Any preference on which cemetery we use?"

"Amanda Krueger was a nun. Let's keep the theme going."

"Catholic it is."

MacGyver drove to the back portion of the Catholic cemetery, where some of the graves dated back before the Civil War. Murdoc eyed the wrought iron fence, laughing.

"Welcome to Horror 101, Angus. Today's lesson...the spooky graveyard."

"If this was a horror movie, we'd be about to flunk out by dying."

"Mm, true. Let's not do that."

Murdoc jumped, grabbing the top of the fence and hauling himself over, landing gracefully on the other side. He stood, watching as MacGyver took his turn over the fence. Murdoc backed up a scant few inches to give MacGyver room to stand up.

Mac's expression, eyes wide and mouth slightly open sent Murdoc spinning around, yearning for a weapon.

Standing two feet away was an older woman, her brown eyes dark with sorrow. Her lined face was surrounded by a white wimple, matching the rest of her nun's habit.

"Well, hello," Murdoc greeted, grinning toothily. "How are you today, sister?"

"Murdoc..." MacGyver hissed in warning.

"I'm glad you're here," the nun responded, giving a slight, somber smile that only increased her air of mourning.

"Are you sure you don't have the wrong party?" Murdoc asked, hopefully.

"Quite sure, yes."

"Sister Mary Helena?" MacGyver asked, as Murdoc huffed, waving his hands in frustrated arcs.

"Yes, born Amanda Krueger."

"Well, I'm sorry, if you object, but I'm going to murder your son," Murdoc said, cheerfully.

"Others already committed that act many years ago, child."

"Fine. Technically, that's true," Murdoc conceded, rolling his eyes. "It just didn't stick very well. I'm going to correct that."

"He's still killing and we have to stop him," MacGyver said, gently.

"Yes, you do. I"m glad you chose this place for his remains."

"Sooo, you're here for moral support?" Murdoc said, with a giggle.

"I'm here to help you," Amanda agreed, gliding closer and fully facing Murdoc, "because you're right. This is not the same as killing a terrorist or a senator."

"My part of it is. The person you should be helping is Matty."

"When the time comes, I will help her all I can."

"And what do you think you can do for me?"

"That remains to be seen. For now, come with me."

Amanda began walking the neat rows of graves giving way to crumbling tombstones nestled amongst tall trees. MacGyver fell in beside her, keeping her pace.

"I'm sorry about him."

"He's a lost child. You should be sorry for him."

"No, he shouldn't. The 'lost child' can hear you, you know."

"He's a killer," MacGyver argued, grimly, ignoring Murdoc.

"Yet, he's here, protecting children."

"Yeah, well, my son is involved."

Amanda stopped, turning around to look Murdoc in the eyes.

"You would be here, anyways. Even if you had never been a father, you would still be here."

"Well, no, because I wouldn't know Krueger was still around," Murdoc disagreed mildly. "Probably it's a good thing for the rest of the neighborhood that Cassian is here."

"Quite providential," Amanda agreed, turning and continuing on.

"Where are we going?" Murdoc demanded.

"You can't dig a grave, without it being noticed. But, I may know of a solution."

"We hide him in some abandoned family crypt?"

"I think it best to let the others here be at peace, without my son's unsettled spirit haunting their rest."

"I don't think they care."

"You don't believe in life after death?" Amanda asked, amused.

"I'm talking to it, but I really hope the dead don't just hang around their own decaying bodies. I mean, please, tell me they usually go bye-bye!"

"Nevertheless," Amanda chided, coming to a halt.

MacGyver stared with interest. Several stones, the smallest the size of a man, lay jumbled together in a small clearing. The stones were pockmarked and gray, with bits of white shining through.

"I think you may be able to conceal his body inside of these."

"I'm surprised they're not covered with graffiti."

"They're said to be haunted."

"We might make that true. What do you think, Angus? Can we use a lever or something to get him inside there?"

"I won't need to. It looks like some animals have used these rocks as covers for a den."

"Occasionally, moles have been spotted in the area," Amanda agreed.

"So, that will disguise any digging we do and we just shove the body into the abandoned den. And you'll be able to visit the grave!" Murdoc congratulated.

"I don't think Freddy would want that," Amanda said, sadly.

"Hm, guess not. Heh. I bet you never imagined you'd be helping hide a body, when you became a nun! Especially your own kid's!"

"MURDOC!" MacGyver shouted, angrily, whirling away from the stones to confront him.

"Mr. MacGyver," Amanda chided gently. "You do realize you're giving him what he wants, when you lose your temper at him?"

"If he wants me angry at him, he's succeeding."

"He wants your attention, though, he could find better ways of getting it."

"Whatever works. I'm not picky!" Murdoc assured them.

"That is a symptom of your mental illness," Amanda said, shaking her head.

Murdoc just smirked, shrugging carelessly.

"We need to get back to the house," MacGyver said, sighing. "Sister, thank you for your help. I'm sorry this is necessary."

"Yes, condolences, Sister, yada yada. C'mon, boyscout. I want to get back to Cassian."

"Yes, fine, we're going!"

MacGyver couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes, as he watched Murdoc stalk off with long strides.

"Mr. MacGyver," Amanda persisted, a hint pleading in her voice. "He'll either live up or down to your expectations for him. That's part of his personality, too, a very childish part. He's not your responsibility, but you do have the power to influence him. Pick a worthy goal and find a path to it. For more sakes than one."

MacGyver thought for a moment, then shrugged, smiling.

"I'll think about it. Good-bye, Sister."

"Good luck."

MacGyver caught up to Murdoc at the car, finding him slouched against it, his brow furrowed.

"Did the good sister make another plea for this 'lost child'?"

"Don't knock it. I think she likes you."

"Well, that's just weird."

"You think liking you is weird?" MacGyver asked, a bit surprised.

"A sociopathic murderer whose people skills are limited to burying them? Most people don't like that in a person."

"Yeah, well, she's a nun. It's kind of her job to reach out to lost souls."

"I thought nuns were supposed to all be crabby, old ladies who go around hitting kids' hands with rulers," Murdoc mused, getting into the passenger's seat.

"You know that's just a cliché."

"Why would I know that? I don't hang out with nuns, Angus."

"Okay...point."

"Oh, and we need to stop at Wal-mart."

"Why?"

"I need a really large plastic tote and some bubble wrap."

"Okay, again, why?"

"For Freddy's shroud and coffin, of course. It'll get us to the cemetery, with no one the wiser."

Thursday. April 27th. 11:09 P.M.

Matty took a deep breath. It had worked. This wasn't the boiler room Murdoc and Jenna had described, but sheer ugliness marked this as Freddy's nightmare. She was standing in a living room, shivering with cold, from the breeze coming from holes in the walls. A gray, torn-up couch stood starkly in the middle of the room, the rotting corpse of comfort. Matty had to give Freddy credit. Giving furniture a sense of death, of being dead, took some skill.

The front door creaked open. Matty stared outside, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever might be waiting. The only thing visible was a cloudy sky and dying grass.

"Are you allergic to living things, Krueger?"

A faint sound that might have been laughter or just the wind drifted in from outside. Sighing silently, Matty walked to the door, peering out cautiously to both sides, then throwing in a glance up. Nothing. She stepped onto the porch and the house disappeared. Matty found herself standing on a flat gravestone, surrounded by other graves. She moved onto the grass, reading the tombstone at her feet.

Wilt Bozer.

"C'mon, Freddy. I made peace a long time ago with the dangers of my work, both to myself and those I lead," Matty called out, forcing herself to read the rest of the tombstones, unsurprised to find Mac, Riley, Desi, and Jack's names.

It still hurt. Matty blinked back unexpected tears, fighting the grief that shot through her guts, like a cramp. A nearby grave began heaving, the soil coming loose, a muffled thumping barely audible rising up from the ground. As more dirt poured away, a coffin shook free of the ground. Matty stood still, ready to attack, if Krueger emerged.

The shouts coming from the coffin sounded like Jenna, accompanied by fists pounding angrily on the coffin's lid.

Matty strode up to the coffin and flung it open, darting back, not trusting her senses. Jenna was there, not Freddy, breathing deeply in relief.

"Matty! He...he trapped me. I think I'm bait!"

"Get it together, Jenna," Matilda ordered, keeping her own voice calm. "Where is he?"

"I don't know. He disappeared, once I was in the grave. The atmosphere changed, y'know?"

"All right. We look around. He's here and I doubt he plans on killing us remotely. According to his files, Freddy likes his kills up front and personal."

"Yeah, but I'm not ready to kill you yet, bitch!" Freddy announced, appearing directly beside Matty, out of nowhere.

Grabbing Matty, Freddy tossed her into the coffin, which snapped shut, then sank rapidly into the ground.

"Matty," Jenna cried, alarmed.

She took a deep breath and imagined a shovel, trying to make one appear.

"Uh, uh, little girl. I control what's real around here," Freddy scolded.

"Let her go."

"Oh, I don't think sooo," Freddy crooned. "We're all gonna stay right here. I'm sure more people will show up to play. You ever do any sleepwalking, Jenna?"

"No. Grandfather, no!"

Freddy chuckled derisively.

"Let's watch. Open your eyes, little girl. I want to see what's happening!"

In the real world, Jenna's eyes cracked open, just enough to let her and Freddy see into the living room. From her couch, Jenna could just make out Matty tossing and turning on the love seat. Murdoc stood over her, frowning.

"C'mon, Matilda. Wake up."

Freddy sneered, moving over to Jenna. A slick cold filled Jenna's body, as Freddy merged into her, possessing her. She shuddered, barely able to breath, trying to draw away, but the cold seeped into her bones, as Freddy took control. In the waking world, shadows like burn scars appeared on Jenna's face, puckering her smooth skin.

"Hey, Murdoc," Freddy taunted, speaking through Jenna.

Murdoc whirled, glaring.

"Neat trick. What are you doing to Matty?"

"Aw, I'm keeping her nice and cozy for you, big boy! You want your girlfriend back? Come and get her!"

"You're trying to up the stakes. With the woman who keeps sending me to prison?" Murdoc rattled off with a chuckle. "That's hilarious."

"Liar," Freddy sneered. "You forget I've been in your head."

"All I know is I am SO going to enjoy killing you."

"So, c'mon. Come and get me!"

Jenna fell back, landing hard against the arm of her couch. She whimpered, but didn't wake. Murdoc glared down at her, then threw his head back, screaming in rage. He picked up the coffee table and threw it at the far wall, only barely controlling himself enough to throw it away from Jenna and Matty. Next, he tossed the armchairs over onto their backs.
Hearing footsteps pounding towards him, Murdoc stopped, panting more from anger than exertion.

"Murdoc? What's wrong?" MacGyver asked, staring in dread at the mess.

The two couches remained in place, slanted slightly towards each other. The windows, one in front of each couch, with a television centered between them, were intact. Two armchairs and a tall, standing lamp had sat between the couches, a couple of feet back, but still in easy reach of the coffee table. Now, the lamp lay shattered, between the upended chairs. The coffee table lay in pieces, beneath a triangular dent in the wall.

"What did you do to my living room?!"

"Freddy has your wife and Matty trapped in his dreamworld. They're alive, but we're going to have to send someone in to rescue them. So, maybe now isn't the time to worry about your furniture, hmmm?"

"I haven't taken hypnocil, yet," MacGyver assured him. "I'll go in."

"Have the children taken hypnocil?" Murdoc demanded.

"No, it's best to take it right before sleeping..."

MacGyver trailed off, as Murdoc stormed towards the doorway. He stopped just outside, hearing harsh words.

"I will not let him use Ellen in this fight!"

"He's not. I don't think he wants them awake, when he kills Freddy. Murdoc's gone to great lengths to keep Cassian from seeing that side of him."

"That doesn't mean he'll protect Ellen."

"Cassian cares about Ellen. Murdoc cares about Cassian. I think you can give him the benefit of the doubt."

"He's a killer."

"Yeah, I know, but maybe that isn't all he is."

"Hmph. I guess we'll find out."

11:31 P.M>

Murdoc gave a slight smile, walking briskly outside. Cassian and Ellen stood outside their tent.

"Dad? We heard something. Is it over?"

"No, I just got a bit frustrated. Freddy made a move I didn't expect. He's trying to lure me into his nightmare. Matty and Jenna can't wake up."

Ellen gave a small sob, but raised her chin.

"Then, I'll get you in there."

"Oh, no. I came out here, because it's time for you both to take the hypnocil."

"But..."

"But, nothing. We're the parents. Our job is to protect you. Besides, your mom can still pull us into the dream. She just can't leave herself. Now, get the pills and something to drink. I'm going to watch you take it."

Cassian gave a defeated sigh and went into the tent. Ellen stomped in after him.

"Look, maybe we can palm the drug," she hissed, hoping Murdoc wouldn't hear.

"Bad idea. You do not want to try and pull one over on my dad. It wouldn't work, anyway."

"What would he do to me, if I did?"

Cassian rolled his eyes.

"He wouldn't hurt you, but you'd end up looking pretty stupid."

"Bummer," Ellen declared, grabbing the pill bottle and going back out.

Murdoc smirked at her, as Cassian came up behind her with their sodas.

"He's right, you know. I can tell, when someone is swallowing air or an actual object."

"And, you have awesome hearing," Ellen added, huffily.

"That, too. Now, pill time. Swallow them."

"Adults suck," Ellen said, swallowing her pill and taking a long drink.

"Yes, and you get to be one someday."

Murdoc watched as Cassian took his own pill, then turned back to Ellen. He placed a careful hand on her shoulder, smiling.

"You're a smart kid, Ellen. I came here to protect you, both of you, from a predator. I can't do that and let you get involved. They're opposite things. You get that don't you."

"Yeah, but...he has my mom."

"Not for long. So, are we good?"

"Yeah," Ellen agreed, smiling shakily. "We're good."

"Excellent."

"Dad? Are you going into the nightmare now?"

Murdoc gently ruffled his son's hair, shaking his head soothingly.

"No. In order for our plan to work, I have to stay awake and alert. Now, no more questions and worrying. It's time for bed."

Both children stepped forward, wrapping their arms around him and resting against him. Murdoc could never quite keep from stiffening, almost from flinching, at that much contact, but he forced himself to relax, hugging back lightly. Cassian pulled back first, smiling up at Murdoc, trusting.

"Good night, Dad."

"Good night, Mr. Murdoc."

"Good night, kiddos. We'll see you in the morning."

Murdoc waited until they were settled in their tent, before striding back inside. He found MacGyver alone in the living room, pulling the coffee table back into place.

"I sent Alex to bed. He's taken hypnocil. He took Jenna with him."

"Very romantic. So. Time to get back to work."

"Mmhmm. Good thing the army taught me how to go to sleep, whenever I had to."

"Good thing."

MacGyver settled on the couch, a bit wary, when Murdoc sat down on the floor next to him.

"I'm almost sorry I won't get to witness this."

"You think I'm a match for Freddy?"

"There's no one like you, Boyscout. He has power, but you're far smarter than him."

"Any advice?"

"Improvise."

MacGyver gave a sharp laugh.

"Thanks."

"Seriously. He's used to adults who are stuck in their patterns of thinking, stuck in adult disbelief. You think Santa Claus could be real."

"Why do you know that?"

"I keep tabs on you. I...might have planted a bug or two, the times I broke in."

"I didn't ask how, Murdoc. I asked why."

"Oh. Curiosity, mostly. Plus, you're almost as much fun with science stuff in your spare time as you are on the job."

"You need a better hobby."

"I knooow, but they're so hard to find and this one is so entertaining."

"Murdoc," MacGyver sighed, giving a small laugh. "Shut up and let me go to sleep."

"Aye, aye...sergeant, was it?"

"Close enough."

MacGyver closed his eyes, reaching for sleep. He came back to himself with a jolt, as a hand landed on his shoulder. Opening his eyes, MacGyver stared into the gentle warmth of Amanda's gaze.

"We don't have long," she told him. "I can only hide you from Freddy for a short time, as I'm hiding my granddaughter."

MacGyver looked from side to side, spotting Jenna standing nearby.

"Jenna..."

"I'm sorry. I messed up."

"No, this isn't your fault. We have to stop underestimating Freddy."

"Right now, you need to rescue Director Webber. She is in the greatest danger."

"I wouldn't bet on that," MacGyver disagreed dryly. "But, I am here to help her...or, at least, to help her help herself."

"What are you going to do?"

"Think outside the box."

MacGyver pulled out his swiss army knife, holding it up in the flat of his palm. Concentrating, he thought of Matty, molecules, and wormholes. He grinned, as the knife seemed to break into tiny pieces, before fading away.

"What, did you..."

"Matty gave me that knife. It connects us, so I used that connection to send it to her."

"You're going to try to use his dream world against him? The stories say he's in complete control."

"Not complete. If he were, no one would ever have survived."

"Well. Did anyone?"

"Yes, at least one girl, Alice. He never managed to kill her. Amanda. Can you help me find Matty?"

"I can take you to her," Jenna disagreed. "Amanda is going to hide our movements from Freddy."

"I'm going to try. He can be fought, but it isn't easy. You don't have much time left."

"We'll hurry. Jenna? Are you ready?"

"Yes, follow me."

Jenna led MacGyver to a pale door, carved out of stone. She pushed lightly on it and they stepped through, into a decrepit hospital room. Live wires hung from the light fixtures and water pooled on the floor...and other liquids too, MacGyver noted with disgust. A single hospital bed sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by malfunctioning or dead monitors. A doctor's table sat next to the bed, covered in knives, some of them stained with blood.

Matty lay on the hospital bed, her mouth and eyes taped shut. Her limbs were fastened to the bed with chains. MacGyver couldn't pinpoint the problem, but there was something wrong with the way she was laying, an unnatural angle to her spine. MacGyver's mouth tightened into a grim line, his eyes narrowing, until only a slight sliver of blue shone behind his lashes.

Forgetting his mission, MacGyver strode towards Matty, intent on freeing her.

"Mac, look out!"

MacGyver spun around, shifting to one side, as Freddy appeared behind him. Freddy laughed and a whirling wind filled the small room. The door burst open and MacGyver could see open sky.

"Y'know," Freddy shouted over the roaring air, "I actually really love the simple fears! Go splat, asshole!"

"Actually, Krueger, this much wind gives me my best chance for survival! It's all in the math," MacGyver countered, not fighting the wind, but letting it push him around the room, allowing him to control his path.

The air of the room filled with numbers, in bright blues and greens, writing themselves into complex equations. MacGyver filled the doorway with them, forming a net. The wind died, leaving Freddy staring at MacGyver, warily. Jenna eased slowly over to Matty, as MacGyver taunted Freddy.

"That much wind creates lift, slowing the rate of descent..."

"No one CARES!" Freddy snarled.

"Well. I care."

Freddy rifled through MacGyver's brain and shuddered in disgust. Formulas, facts, creative inspirations all swirled around in dizzying patterns, in every color. Worse, was the underlying order, strict rules, and moral code. Oh, he was definitely killing this. The guy wasn't even that old. Time to get old-fashioned.

Cackling with bloodlust, Freddy charged at MacGyver, intending to make quick work of him. Like Murdoc, MacGyver stood his ground...and Freddy went right through him, almost toppling over Matty. Freddy spun, snarling in outrage, ignoring Jenna, who hovered on the other side, her eyes wide and her hands very still.

"Matter phasing," MacGyver informed him cheerfully. "Spread your molecules apart and let everything else pass through the empty space."

"Think you're smart, huh?" Freddy taunted, throwing a tray of scalpels at MacGyver's face.

MacGyver threw his hands up around his face, feeling the knives cut into his arms. Pulling his hands away, he saw Freddy chuckling, his eyes bright with evil glee at even that small amount of bloodshed.

"I read a lot," MacGyver agreed, shrugging, ignoring the assault.

"Bet I can kill you that way."

Freddy concentrated and MacGyver began separating into small bubbles. MacGyver hissed in pain, as his body started to drift apart. MacGyver grabbed up a scalpel and dragged one of the live wires from the ceiling, wrapping it around the metal knife.

"It's actually amazing how magnetics play such a huge part in how the universe works. Our molecules are actually held together by magnetism, so I can use an electromagnet to stabilize myself...at least in the dream world."

MacGyver ran his electromagnet over himself, healing Freddy's damage. Freddy gave an unwilling huff of admiration.

"You think quick, but you still can't stop me. How're you planning on killing me, bright boy?"

"I'm not here to kill you."

"Damn boring brat! What, you come here just to fetch your boss? I figured loverboy would want the honor," Freddy sneered.

The live wires MacGyver had used began spitting out electricity, waving around madly, before striking at MacGyver, wrapping themselves around his throat. He felt them dig into the soft tissues, his air cutting off. MacGyver wheezed, his throat and eyes burning, trying to imagine a way to trick air into his lungs.

"Think you're way out of that one, brainiac!"

A sudden searing pain lanced through Freddy's back, making him scream, though mostly in shock. Something small and hard twisted inside, beside his spine.

"He doesn't need to," Matty told Krueger, twisting MacGyver's army knife further into Krueger's back. "Mac, Jenna, wake up!"

"What? No!" Krueger protested, trying to wrench free from Matty's hard grip.

Her strength surprised him and he found himself torn from the safety of his nightmare.

Friday. April 28th. 2:09 A.M.

Matty, Jenna, and MacGyver all came awake in the same instant, sitting up abruptly. Murdoc drew his gun, aiming it in Matty's general direction, but not directly at her. Freddy was nowhere in sight, but there was a foulness to the air, almost too faint to detect, but Murdoc could taste it, like ash on his tongue. He nodded at Matty, then nodded sharply to the side. Matty obeyed the silent signal, getting up and heading to one side.

Freddy sprang up from behind her couch with an enthusiastic shout, driving his knives towards Matty's neck. Murdoc fired, catching Freddy in the upper flesh of his shoulder.

Freddy gave a shriek of pain, deeply shocked. He dove back behind the couch.

"OOoooo, I scored a point there, Freddy," Murcoc taunted, happily. "Come on. Come play with the big boys, you coward. No kids here, pal."

Pain, pain and blood, bright red, flowing red, into his sweater. The pain, the pain didn't matter, but the BLOOD. No, no, no, nope, he was supposed to be beyond that, he was FREDDY, the king of nightmares and he. Did. Not. BLEED.

The shuffle of boots on carpet called out to Freddy. He wasn't done yet, though. He could still win. He just needed their fear, their fear and their deaths, especially the kids, but start with the adults. If he could, start with the other. The dark shadow now clinging to his own heels. Oh, Freddy wanted that blood! Kill them all, drink their fear, and he could go home. Easy.

He just had to stay away from any more bullets.

The window...no, too obvious, and predators could always see in the dark. No, the window with the moonlight and star shine, disgustingly clean and bright, that way lay defeat. No, shadows, that was it. He needed to be the boogeyman, hiding in shadows, creeping up. Forcing away his chuckle, Freddy scooted under the couch, merging into the darkness. He watched the boots, knew Murdoc was now in front of the couch. standing in the star light.

"Murdoc..." the bright boy's voice came from the other couch, still close to the window.

"Out, both of you. I need this to be me and him."

Freddy gnashed his teeth, angry and excited. Him and the shadow, but the shadow didn't fear. The bright boy and the woman were calm and cool, too, so contained, practiced. Why weren't these piggies properly afraid?! But, oh...there was fear. Ohh, the delicious thrum of terror, a tasty snack! Not a proper meal, not yet, but enough. The energy of the dream had started to fade, sure, but this helped. Freddy flowed, almost a shadow himself, from the back of the couch, to a corner of the ceiling.

"What's happened?" Alex asked, his voice thready with anxiety.

"The hunt has begun," Murdoc said cheerfully.

"He's here, then? In the house?"

Freddy let himself laugh, then scurried across the ceiling, like half of a spider, disappearing out the door, despite the bullets that pinged next to him or the one that bit off a small piece of his outer thigh. And, oh, that terror increased, as Alex screamed in shock.

"It didn't work! He can still...he's not human!"

"He spent decades in dreams. It's not so surprising he carried a bit out with him," MacGyver reasoned.

"He'll kill us. He'll find the kids and Jenna; they're asleep. They can't protect themselves..."

A sharp thwack, fingers hitting flesh, stopped the torrent of words.

"Now, listen to me, Alex," Murdoc instructed, the words light and sharp, like a slicing blade. "Freddy feeds on fear. He's bleeding, but your fear makes him stronger. I really need you to not do that."

"Of course, I'm afraid. My wife and daughter's lives are at stake!"

"Oh, I don't expect you to stop being afraid," Murdoc assured him, that disgusting smile showing in his voice. "I expect you to be afraid of me."

Alex began choking. Freddy angled himself, so he could just peek back inside the living room, without being clearly seen. Murdoc had put his gun away and had a hand wrapped tightly around Alex's throat.

"You're interfering in my hunt, Alex, and I can't have that. Do you think Freddy is the only one who can do terrible things to you? To protect my kid, I will cheerfully see how many times I can shoot you, without killing you."

Freddy flexed his glove. Guns. This guy liked guns. Where was the fun in that? Knives, knives, slicing, stabbing, watching the blood well up. A gun? Pop, pop, and done. Pop. Pop. Okay, the sound was exciting, but ohhh. To drag cold metal across hot skin, to feel the wetness of death...a gun couldn't give you that!

"Don't worry. I'm plenty afraid of you."

Freddy watched Murdoc shove Alex away, releasing him. Alex stared, rubbing his neck, with sick, anxious breaths, but oohhh. The fear was not for Freddy and had become pale and useless.

"What are we going to do? We don't know where he is," Alex argued, anger further diluting his fear."

"You know he's not in here. Feel free to stay put. If things get too much for you, you can always go out the window."

"Murdoc," Matty ordered, waving him over to her.

Murdoc came and knelt down, as she continued beckoning to him, once he was in front of her. Matty leaned in, her voice becoming a faint whisper.

"I'm going to send Mac to the kids, once you get Freddy away from here. If we can, Alex and I are going to stand watch over Jenna. Don't make him a victim of friendly fire."

"He's not really in danger from me. I just needed to redirect his fear."

"Yes, I know," Matty agreed, calmly. "I also know you're not afraid, but don't underestimate Freddy. The most dangerous predator is a wounded one."

"Hopefully, the one protecting their child is the most dangerous, but I concede your point."

"Tell me something. Is Dennis your birth name?"

"Sure. I didn't start collecting aliases, until after I met Helman. There wasn't any need before."

"Hm. Well, be careful, Dennis," Matty instructed warmly.

"Take care of the others," Murdoc countered, eyes shining with affection, standing back up.

"I will," Matty promised.

Murdoc turned towards the living room door and gave a long, shrill whistle.

"Ohh, Fred-dy! Oley, oley, oxen free! We're finally being left alone, bud. Time to play."

"Come and get me!"

"Ohhh, I intend to."

Murdoc approached the living room door, pulling out his gun. Stopping, he eyed the doorway, fully expecting to be ambushed. Well, so be it. Murdoc rushed through the door, swiftly checking in each direction for his quarry. Nothing. Murdoc huffed.

"Oh. Come. On. You had a clear advantage!"

"Awww, did I disappoint you?"

Murdoc shifted to the right, seeing Freddy standing a short way down the hall.

"Oh, you still have your glove! To be fair, you didn't actually bring a knife to a gunfight. You brought five knives."

"It's all I ever needed. Come on! You got firepower, sure, but I got the shadows. Come get me!"

Freddy disappeared into the shadows behind him. The shadows welled unnaturally, absorbing the hallway's overhead light, the bulbs seeming to pulse and dim. Murdoc strode down the hall, looking for variations in the shadow and listening for his enemy. It saved his life, as he heard Freddy's glove scrape against the wall. He backpedaled so Freddy's glove only grazed his chest, slicing through his sweater and opening the upper layers of skin. Murdoc laughed, as blood oozed out.

"See, that's more like it!" Murdoc said, grabbing Freddy's wrist with his left hand and driving the gun in his right hand into Freddy's jaw.

Freddy spit blood, narrowly missing Murdoc's eyes, a reluctant laugh burbling up from his chest.

"Fella," Freddy told him, falsely kind, "you got something seriously wrong with you."

"Sociopathy," Murdoc provided, smirking.

"Uh, huh," Freddy muttered, crashing his forehead into Murdoc's, then tearing free.

While Murdoc was momentarily stunned, Freddy ran, fading back into shadows, heading for Jenna. Sweet, sweet child, so sweetly afraid, like a chocolate bar, her death rich on his tongue, he could taste it, feel it, wanted it. But, he could hear the unsafe shadow, boots measured, coming ever closer. Freddy swallowed, hurrying along. No more bullets. Yet. It was only yet. He stopped, pressing into a corner, panting. The measured steps, coming closer, set Freddy's heart racing, fear, anger, fear, anger, anger, RAGE.

The game had twisted, but he wasn't prey. He was NOT. He'd heard. Freddy had heard the whispers--Murdoc's woman was with Jenna. Well, good. Screw fear. She died next. That would show Mr. Fancy who ruled. Freddy would gut her and make sure Murdoc tripped on her entrails. Freddy chuckled, bouncing loudly up the stairs, towards the bedrooms.

Halfway up, POP, and Freddy's leg collapsed underneath him.

"Guns are always louder in the movies," Freddy grunted.

"I'm using a silencer. We don't want the neighbors interfering in our business."

"Fine, yeah, duh."

With a bellow, Freddy took a might leap, flinging himself off the stairs, directly at Murdoc. They thudded together, rolling around in an ecstasy of violence, clinging, punching, scratching. Murdoc's gun skittered to one side, momentarily forgotten, as Freddy's glove became the deciding factor in their fight. Freddy's bizarre strength soon flagged, wore down by Murdoc's expertise. Murdoc twisted Freddy's arms behind him and grabbed onto the thick metal plate on the glove's back.

"No, no, no, that's MINE!" Freddy whined, twisting his shoulders back and forth in a vain attempt to pull free.

"It's the most interesting thing about you," Murdoc grunted, finally prying the glove free from Freddy's hand. "I give you points for craftmanship."

Hopping up, Murdoc drove his boot into Freddy's ribs, listening with satisfaction to the brittle snapping of ribs. Grinning, Murdoc put the glove on, then fetched his gun, cradling it in his other hand. Freddy turned onto his back, raising up on his elbows. Freddy licked his lips, tasting defeat. His glove, his glove, sweet death-maker, he needed it!

"Like that? Guess professionals don't knife people much. Too much evidence?"

"Hm. It does leave traces, but there are ways to cover them," Murdoc answered, waving the glove around and clicking the knives. "Mm. Solid craftmanship, Krueger."

"Sure you don't want to partner up? You'd be surprised what I could show you with that thing."

"I'm sure, but, here," Murdoc said, throwing the glove to Freddy. "It's fitting you finally die with it."

Freddy caught the glove, putting it on. An opening, that's all he needed. People always made mistakes and this guy loved to talk and talk. He inched closer. He swallowed, surprised at how much his leg hurt, how shaky it was beneath him. He told himself it didn't matter. He just needed a kill. One kill and he'd be strong enough to wipe them all out. Before he could attack, Matty showed up at the top of the stairs.

"Murdoc, you've played enough. Finish him, so you can get his corpse hidden before sunrise."

Murdoc looked up at her and smiled brightly.

"Matty, coming from you, that's the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me."

Freddy used the moment of distraction to attack, flinging himself at Murdoc. Murdoc barely managed to fling his arm up, Freddy's knives opening long gashes in Murdoc's forearm. With a pained hiss, Murdoc delivered a powerful blow with his uninjured right arm, the fist connecting powerfully with Freddy's chest. Freddy staggered back, crashing into the wall.

He straightened up to see Murdoc standing still, his gun already aimed, lips curled up slightly and his eyes shining merrily. Freddy felt sick, wanting to slice that smile off the other's face.

"Goodbye, Freddy," Murdoc said, serenely.

"NO!"

Freddy's protest was answered by two bullets, one in his chest and one in his eye. He collapsed, falling in a loose pile at Murdoc's feet. Alex came running out of his bedroom, then walked downstairs, heading towards Freddy.

"Stay back!" Murdoc ordered.

"He's..."

Alex stopped, as Freddy lurched up, growling. Murdoc fired two more shots, both entering Freddy's head, shredding his brain. A quiver went through Freddy's crumpling body and the scent of ashes and blood filled the air. Despite the smell of death, the atmosphere lightened, a foulness to it fading away. Murdoc gave a sharp nod.

"Okay. He's dead."

"Are you sure?" Alex asked, eying the corpse with dread.

"Alex, don't provoke him. He knows a corpse, when he sees one. Goodness knows, he's seen enough of them," Matty chided. "Do me a favor and go get me some bandages and antiseptic."

Alex obeyed, while Matty sat down on the stairs. Sitting a couple of steps below her, Murdoc stripped off his ruined sweater, leaving him in a short-sleeved t-shirt. Matty carefully examined his slashed arm.

"Not too bad. It definitely needs cleaning."

Alex came back with a first aid kit, then left to check on Jenna. Matty cleaned and bandaged Murdoc's arm, her touch firm, but gentle. She didn't let herself linger on the pale, strong limb, steadfastly ignoring Murdoc's state of undress.

"Well, that was fun. Back to prison, I guess."

"I have to keep you there," Matty agreed, reaching out and running the tips of fingers through the hairs at the base of Murdoc's neck.

"It's the sensible thing to do. You don't have to ignore me, though," Murdoc complained.

"What do you want? Mac to show up and play chess with you?"

"Mac as Charles Xavier...I like it! You could, too."

"I prefer poker."

Murdoc leaned forward, resting his forehead on hers, staring silently into her eyes. Matty gave a rueful chuckle, before brushing her lips lightly over his.

"Good thing for you, I'm the boss and can arrange visits, of any kind, as I see fit."

"OOoo, that sounds promising!"

"Yeah, well, you have to get away with murder one last time, first. Go on. You and Mac need to get rid of Freddy."

"Done, boss lady."

3:42 A.M.

Mac couldn't help staring over his shoulder to the back seat. As promised, Murdoc had wrapped Freddy in bubble wrap, before folding him up inside the large, plastic tote. One of Freddy's legs stuck out, covered thickly with bubble wrap. And gift wrap. Murdoc had found a roll of Christmas gift wrap covered in unicorns with red and green manes. The assassin had gleefully covered the serial killer's leg in the whimsical paper and dumped a large bag of bows over the rest of him. Knowing what it was for, MacGyver felt the cheery decorations contrasted starkly with the rope harness fastened around the tote.

"What?" Murdoc asked.

"I'm not sure Amanda is going to appreciate your sense of humor."

"You laughed."

"I was startled."

"Oh, okay, Boyscout," Murdoc laughed. "She's a nun. They like Christmas, right?"

"Yeah, disrespecting the dead, not so much."

"We didn't respect him, when he was alive. I don't see the point in starting now."

Murdoc pulled off the road, parking close to the cemetery fence. Murdoc and MacGyver wrestled the tote over to the fence, then Murdoc climbed nimbly over. MacGyver threw the end of the rope over. When MacGyver was over the fence, too, they both hauled on the rope, bringing Freddy to the top of the fence.

"Okay, I can keep him up for a minute or two. Go over and keep him steady."

MacGyver obeyed, keeping a firm grip on both sides of the rope harness. Murdoc worked his way swiftly but carefully over to the fence, keeping the rope taut. Within minutes, they had Krueger's tote on their side of the fence.

"Okay, time to get this bad boy out of sight," Murdoc said gleefully.

"Right. Grab an end."

Murdoc followed instructions, lifting one end, while MacGyver lifted the other. They managed to haul the tote in unison, keeping an almost easy stride together.

"We work so well together, Angus. It's a shame we can't do this more often."

"You're the one who joined a foreign army and became an assassin."

"Not the point, Boyscout. True, but not the point."

"It kind of is. You don't want to help us, Murdoc. You just want to have fun."

"Why can't I want both?"

Murdoc frowned, turning as far away from MacGyver as he could, while keeping a comfortable grip on their shared burden. MacGyver noted Murdoc's lowered brows and slightly protruding lower lip, sighing.

"What difference does it make?" Murdoc continued, angrily. "If I want to help, or have fun, or just keep prison from making me any crazier, you'd still benefit."

"If you're trying to make friends with us, Murdoc, it matters."

"I can't earn your trust, if you ignore me."

"And, you hate being ignored."

"Absolutely. Who doesn't?"

"Fair enough. Anyway, Matty makes those decisions, not me."

"She brought up the idea of you coming and playing chess with me," Murdoc said, as they came up to the rock grouping.

"As long as you limit yourself to playing chess, not with my head," MacGyver retorted, setting his end of the tote down.

"Arguing again, already?" Amanda asked, appearing next to them.

"Sorry, Sister," MacGyver said, chastened. "We're ready to bury him."

Amanda looked at the tote and gave a slight chuckle.

"Well, that's one way to avoid suspicion. I don't think the tote will fit."

MacGyver hurriedly removed the wrapping paper and bows. He and Murdoc spent a difficult few minutes maneuvering Freddy, but finally, the dead killer was put to rest. MacGyver gathered some smaller rocks and shoved them underneath, making sure Freddy was completely out of view and nearly inaccessible. They straightened up, finding Amanda praying, her cheeks wet with tears. Murdoc started to speak, but MacGyver put a hand on his arm, shaking his head firmly. A moment later, Amanda looked up.

"Sister...I'm sorry," MacGyver said gently.

"I know. I am, too. But, the children are safe, now that it's finally over."

"We need to go, Boyscout. The later it gets, the more likely questions will be asked."

"Be well, both of you. Murdoc? Don't let yourself die unmourned, except for your son. You don't have to share my son's fate."

"Hm. Maybe, maybe not. Good-bye, Sister."

Amanda faded out of their sight. She reappeared in Alex and Jenna's house, sitting next to Matty on the couch.

"Amanda Krueger," Matty stated calmly, setting her coffee down. "What can I do for you?"

"The task is finished. The young men are on their way back."

"Both of them?"

"Yes, I believe so. They walked away together."

"Good. Tell me. Why so much concern for Murdoc? That is why you're here."

"Those in darkness are the most in need of light. I can't help wondering, what might have been, if I had raised my child."

"You had good reasons to believe he would be all right."

"Yes, perhaps, but he wasn't. The worse thing is he never really loved anyone. He stopped wanting to be loved, at a terribly young age."

Matty picked her coffee back up, sipping at it.

"But Murdoc loves and wants to be loved? It's not that simple, Amanda, even if that is true."

"There's nothing simple about love," Amanda said, firmly. "If he wasn't loved, I wouldn't be here. I would be in church, praying that someone would."

"I have to send him back to jail."

"Yes, but you don't have to abandon him there."

"He's not a good person, Amanda."

"No. But, he is still human. Would you love him, if he wasn't?"

"No, I wouldn't," Matty admitted, smiling. "Fine. I do love him. I know he has a lot of, so far, wasted potential."

"I wish you luck, Director Webber. There are too many sad endings in this world. Perhaps this story can have a happy one."

"That depends on Murdoc, but I'll do what I can. Thank you, Amanda, and I'm sorry about your son."

"Thank you. Good-bye," Amanda said softly, fading away.

"Oh, MATILDAaaaah! We're ho-oome," Murdoc sang out, coming in the front door.

"And loud enough to wake the dead, much less Alex and Jenna," Matty retorted, coming to greet them.

"Freddy is well hidden," MacGyver assured her. "There shouldn't be any further problems."

"Good. Now, go get a few hours' sleep. I'll wake you, when breakfast is ready."

"I call dibs on the guest room," Murdoc tried.

"No, you don't. You two are sharing the living room. I get the guest room," Matty retorted.

"Fine with me," MacGyver said, shrugging and trudging into the living room.

Murdoc sprawled down on the floor in front of Matty, smirking.

"I could join you."

"You could and, eventually, you might. One step at a time, Dennis."

Murdoc leaned forward, kissing her, pleased at the feel of her lips moving underneath his. He pulled back, barely suppressing a yawn. Not fooled, Matty smiled wryly at him.

"Okay, fair enough," he conceded, hopping up. "Sleep well."

"You too," Matty answered, smiling fondly, as he walked away, then laughed lightly. "Men."

Matty went upstairs to the guest room, deliberately putting away all thoughts of Murdoc.
Their relationship held as much danger and potential for reward as any mission, if not more. When she was less tired, she would give it her full and careful attention, planning cautiously, but with optimism.

Murdoc wouldn't be able to complain about being ignored anytime soon, that was for certain, Matty promised herself.

comments

A Grimm Love Story

Tue, 08 Sep 2020 01:58:43 GMT

Lisa stood still for a moment, savoring the sweetly fragrant breeze that
played with her loose curls.

"How much farther, Buck?" she asked, sounding concerned. "We're getting
awfully deep into these woods, hon."

Buck laughed, shifting his heavy knapsack across his muscular shoulders. He
bent and placed a small kiss on her lips.

"Don't worry so much," he soothed. "We're almost there and you don't believe
those old stories anyway. Do you?"

"No," she laughed.

Buck gave her a brief hug, before moving on. Within a few minutes, they came
to a small, natural clearing. Lisa gasped. The floor of the clearing was
thick with grass and flowers. The clean scent of nature and honeysuckle hung
heavily in the air. Sunlight shown through the leaves of the forest, giving
a dappled shine to their surroundings.

"Thought you'd like this," Buck murmurred, caressing her shoulders.

"It's beautiful," she sighed.

"Yeah, I can live with a bunch of dumb stories, if it preserves places like
this."

Lisa smiled affectionately.

"You hungry?" she asked cheerfully.

"Actually, yes," Buck grinned, trailing his fingers gently from her cheek
down and over the full curve of her breast. Lisa laughed, slipping her arms
around his neck.

"Well, let's see what we can do about that!"

Mulder allowed himself a moment to gaze at Scully, as he entered the office.
She was busy perusing the file he had left on her desk. Scully was wearing
her glasses, which always made Mulder's heart beat faster, and her auburn
hair fell in tidy waves almost to her shoulders. Mulder stared at Scully
until she looked up, then continued in as if just arriving.

"What do you think, Scully?"

"I'm wondering how we got the case. It would seem to me to be in the
province of the CDC."

Mulder smiled. One of the joys of working with Scully was the challenge each
presented to the other's views and assumptions.

"And the sheriff is patient zero, Scully? What is he spreading?"

"I couldn't say...and you still didn't tell me how we got the 302."

"FBI assistance was requested by the town's mayor, an Edward Stuart, who has
friends in D.C. Seems the town's gone a bit haywire, since the sheriff was
suspended."

"I bet. But the sheriff's violation of the civil liberties of a number of
suspects hardly seems worth pulling in the resources of the FBI. If it
weren't for the strange behavior of other citizens, I would say there was
nothing going on at all."

"Maybe, but that's just what is in the file. It seems the good sheriff, who
until recently was considered stable and well-liked, also recently seduced
the mayor's daughter, who is now also displaying some unusual behavior."

"How old is the girl?"

"Nineteen. The sheriff is 36."

"Was the sex consensual?"

"Evidently. The girl flew into a rage, when her father tried to press
charges. She was examined and no signs of abuse were discovered."

Scully paused a moment to study her partner. He was leaning forward,
grinning happily. His soft dark hair fell enticingly across his brow. His
warm blue hazel eyes sparkled as he waited for her response.

"Mulder? What's your interest in this?" she asked, amused.

Mulder's grin widened and Scully chased away thoughts of sucking and chewing
on his lush lower lip.

"Had to get to that eventually, huh, Scully?"

"I suppose," she conceded with dry humor.

"One of the people displaying strange behaviour is Jenna Rickson--an alien
abductee. These incidents could be the work of the Consortium. However,
there is an interesting town legend, which states that the settlers who
founded the town were plagued by fairies. There are areas in the forests
around the town where even the most avid hunters won't go. Some of the
townspeople are claiming these areas were disturbed."

"Fairies, Mulder?" Scully asked, sounding disappointed.

Mulder shrugged.

"That's what the stories say, Scully."

"Fine, Mulder. Let's go to Forest, Arkansas. But if my field report ends up
looking like something out of Grimm's fairy tales, I *will* hurt you!"

Mulder and Scully gazed in amazement at Main Street in Forest, Arkansas.
Pandemonium raged across the landscape. Children ran up and down, unfettered
by adult supervision. Flowers lay strewn all along the street, intermingling
with broken glass and furniture from the various stores and offices. Two
teenage boys stood in the middle of the street, bitch-slapping each other
and crying. An old couple, neither under the age of seventy-five, leaned
against a lamp pole, kissing with fierce passion.

"What a cute little town!" Mulder averred, with flat humor. "We should
retire here, Scully."

"What makes you think you're going to live that long, Mulder?" Scully
inquired, sweetly.

Mulder just laughed, leading Scully down a side street.

Mulder gazed in sympathy at Jenna Rickson as she bustled around her kitchen,
making coffee. Her long, silver hair, though probably silky under normal
circumstances, hung lank and uncombed down her back. Her brown eyes were
weary, their dullness accentuating the rim of silver that outlined her iris.
Sitting down, she fidgeted nervously with her creamer.

"Normally, I wouldn't talk to you; you have to understand that. I don't
discuss my abductions. I have or *had* a strong reputation as a sensible
woman."

"I understand, Mrs. Rickson. But, then, why have you recently begun telling
your story?" Mulder probed gently.

"I don't know. I just...don't know. I haven't experienced an abduction in
three years, Agent Mulder. Until this past week, I had enough hope to pray
that it was over."

"But you haven't been abducted this week?"

"No, but if it isn't aliens, what is it? And why am I involved?"

"I don't know, ma'am. Some people seem to believe it's connected to
something in the woods."

"The fairies? I don't know. I believe in aliens; why *shouldn't* they
believe in fairies?"

"You've said that talking about your experiences feels almost like a
compulsion, over-riding your former preferences. When did this start?"

"Ten days ago. I talked about it for the first time a few hours after a
tutoring session. I offer tutoring to students going to college. I had just
seen Elaine Stuart. The dear girl...I offered her what comfort I could and
she kissed my cheek."

"This is the young lady who slept with Sheriff Jacobs?"

"I'm not a gossip-monger, Agent Mulder."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way."

"No, I don't suppose you did. Still, if you want their stories, you'll have
to ask them yourself."

"Thank you for your time, Mrs. Rickson. I'll let you know, if I have any
news."

"Good day, Agent Mulder."

Mulder strolled into the restaurant, glancing around until he spotted
Scully. He walked over to the booth she occupied, plopping down across from
her.

"Any progress, Scully?"

"Oh, sure," she confirmed wearily. "I could list you a whole slew of things
it *isn't*, but I've no clue at all what it is. According to every test I've
managed to run, these people are perfectly normal."

"What about the silver ring that appears in their eyes?" Mulder asked,
curious.

"I don't know, Mulder. It doesn't seem to interfere with vision, but I can't
explain it."

"Hmm. I haven't had much luck, either. It *might* be fairies or it *might*
be aliens, but I have found no evidence to confirm or deny either theory."

"Well, I talked to Elaine Stuart. She claims she has always had a crush on
the sheriff. When he made a move on her, she acquiesced. She says before
that, she felt perfectly normal."

"Has she displayed any other symptoms?"

"Well, she claims she feels fine. She's refusing to go back to college,
though everyone says she wanted to before. The most outrageous thing she
seems to have done is sleep with Sheriff Jacobs."

"I guess after lunch, we should talk to the sheriff."

Martin Jacobs stood at his window, looking out. He had admitted Mulder and
Scully willingly enough, but had then grown silent.

"Sheriff Jacobs, please tell me in your own words what happened to you."

"I don't know what to tell you, Agent Mulder. One day I was normal, the next
I was doing things I'd never dared before. It was like I had been released
from my inhibitions and was making my most hidden desires come true."

"Surely you didn't think you would get away with violating the civil rights
of those men?" Scully inquired, cooly. "You kept Dan Hambly in prison for
two days with no evidence and without allowing him to contact legal
counsel."

Jacobs shrugged.

"I didn't think about it, Agent Scully. I knew he was guilty, so I threw his
butt in jail."

"Hardly professional behavior, though, Sheriff," Mulder countered. "And you
can't think of any event that might have precipitated your actions?"

"I've heard the rumors, Agent Mulder. I don't especially believe in aliens
and I certainly don't believe in fairies. They make a good story, but I'm a
practical man."

"We appreciate that, Sheriff," Scully approved, ignoring Mulder, who rolled
his eyes.

"Sheriff, can you recall what you were doing a few hours before you first
noticed any change?"

"I spent the entire day, starting with breakfast, with my sister, Lisa, and
her husband, Buck."

Mulder hesitated, then asked, "Did you know that there are rumors that they
went into the woods?"

"I'm sure they did," Jacobs answered dismissively. "They both love walking
on trails and Buck is a good hunter."

"Were they behaving unusually?"

"Not that I noticed. They were in pretty good moods, but that's
understandable, given the circumstances."

"What circumstances?"

"Lisa's pregnant. She always wanted kids, but circumstances never seemed
right before. She was so happy, she gave me a kiss when we parted."

"She kissed you?" Mulder asked, his voice sharpening.

Sheriff Jacobs gave him a reproachful look.

"My family and I aren't very touchy feely with our affection, but she is my
sister, Agent Mulder. Given her good news, I don't find a peck on the cheek
all that unusual, do you?"

"No, no, of course not. Thank you, Sheriff, we appreciate your time," Mulder
soothed, guiding Scully to the door.

Mulder walked towards the car, not bothering to conceal a smug smile.

"Mulder, what are you thinking?" Scully asked, warily.

"Kissing, Scully. In classical literature, kisses hold a lot of power."

"They can also be significant medically...in the spread of disease," she
reminded him patiently.

Mulder just grinned, shrugging.

"Either way, it's a breakthrough, Scully."

"How? Two of the victims report having been kissed, but the time frame isn't
certain. Whatever this is could just as easily be spread through
touch...especially given how widespread this has become."

"True. Yet the symptoms don't appear to have spread past this town."

"Mulder, it's a small town. It's isolated."

"Maybe. Or maybe whatever it is happens to be naturally confined to this
area."

"Please tell me you're not giving the idea of fairies serious thought."

"Okay," Mulder responded in a reasonable tone, shrugging. "I won't tell
you."

"Mulder," she protested. "You can't be serious."

"Why not?"

"Fairies, Mulder," Scully stressed. "Tiny magic people with wings who live
in flowers."

Mulder winced.

"Your nieces and nephews have inflicted *way* too many cartoons on you,
Scully."

She laughed.

"Yeah and what's your excuse?"

"I'm insane," Mulder dead-panned.

"You said it, Mulder, not me."

"Yeah," he admitted. "I thought I'd beat you to it."

"So...what now? Are you going to interview more witnesses? You only have two
cases where kissing is involved."

"Mm. I think the mayor's daughter qualifies, don't you? It's a safe
assumption that Jacobs kissed her, when he seduced her."

"Okay, three then. Based on interviews, I'd say at least fifty people are
affected."

"I think there's enough evidence to at least warrant investigating the
woods. That's where Lisa and Buck went...and from what we've heard they're
most likely the first people affected."

"But if the woods are taboo, Mulder, won't we make things worse by going
there?" Scully questioned, archly.

Mulder grinned.

"We'll just be careful not to step on any toadstools, Scully."

"You watch out for the toadstools, Mulder. I want to run a few more tests,
based on what we've learned today."

"Okay, I'll meet you back at the motel."

Scully dropped Mulder off at the mayor's house. While he didn't believe the
stories, the mayor was familiar with the legends of his town and could
probably give Mulder a good layout of the forest and which areas were
"forbidden." He knocked on the door, which immediately swung open. A young
woman, in her late teens or early twenties, opened the door. Noting the
silver circles around her eyes, Mulder realized it was Elaine Stuart, the
mayor's daughter.

"Ms. Stuart, is your father home?"

"You're Agent Mulder, aren't you?"

"Yes, yes I am."

"Come in, please."

"Thanks."

"What did you want to see my father for?"

"Um, I want to ask him about some of your town legends...and the taboo areas
of the woods."

The girl's eyes widened.

"You're taking the stories seriously?"

Mulder hesitated, not yet convinced enough to openly commit to his theory
with anyone but Scully.

"I'm not convinced the stories have merit, but the woods do seem to warrant
investigation."

"Well, I din't expect it from the FBI, but at least someone is considering
the idea of fairies. Everyone scoffs openly, but I can tell you...no one
goes too deep into the woods. You can't miss the edge of the forbidden area.
There's a huge oak tree that some of our superstitious neighbors have hung
with crosses. Some people even leave offerings of food. Just follow the main
hiking trail from town; it veers sharply at that point."

"So you believe it is fairies?"

"Martin Jacobs is a sane, stable man. No one affected is sick, weak, or
feverish. What else can explain it?"

"Sickness; mental collapse. A virus in the brain," a harsh voice answered.
"Why else would a nearly forty year old man seduce a girl almost half his
age?"

"Stop it, Daddy!" Elaine stormed. "Martin didn't do anything that I didn't
want."

"He took advantage of your...crush to satisfy his own sick needs. He belongs
in jail!"

"Sir!" Mulder interrupted.

"What? Who the devil are you?!"

"I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder. Sir, whatever is going on, I doubt a case
could be made against the sheriff. Your daughter is of legal age. And
whether the cause of his behavior was fairies or an unknown pathogen, he
can't legally be held responsible for actions that weren't under his
control."

"He slept with my daughter!"

"I understand. I know you're concerned for her well-being. Hurling
accusations and invective won't help us figure out what is going on."

"And you're looking to fairies for the answer?" the mayor scoffed.

"My partner is a qualified medical doctor. I can assure you that we're
following every available lead."

"Well, let me give you a little advice based on local legend," the mayor
sneered. "Our stories state that only a fool will go into the woods this
close to sunset. Supposedly, anyone caught in the forbidden areas after dark
will be driven horribly mad."

Glaring at the federal agent and his daughter, the mayor stormed through the
door to the hallway leading to his den. Elaine sighed.

"Will you be okay?" Mulder asked, concerned over the mayor's hostility.

"Oh, yeah. Dad's a blowhard, but he means well. I'll be fine. Eventually,
he'll cool off and see reason."

Before Mulder could react or protest, Elaine swept forward and planted a
huge kiss on his cheek.

"Um, Elaine? Don't do that to anyone who isn't already affected. I suspect
that whatever is going on is spread through kissing."

Elaine looked shocked, then laughed.

"Oops! I'm sorry, Agent Mulder, I didn't mean anything, but really, it's
nothing to be afraid of!"

Mulder nodded, smiling ruefully. It was done; he would either develop
symptoms or he wouldn't. Bidding Elaine good-bye, he stepped out into the
late afternoon sunlight. Scully would still be conducting her tests. Walking
slowly down the street, Mulder felt himself relaxing. He no longer felt
concern, either about the case or how Skinner would accept his theories. He
knew it was fairies, evidence be damned, and his boss would just have to
live with it.

After a while of walking down the street, he came across the town park. A
bunch of kids were playing baseball, while others ran back and forth from
the slides and swings. Laughing with delight at the carefree atmosphere,
Mulder plopped down beneath the shade of the nearest tree, a full weeping
willow. After a few moments, he removed his trenchcoat and tie, unbuttoning
the top few buttons of his dress shirt. He watched the ball game for a few
minutes, then considered jogging around the track around the park. Laziness
prevailed, however, and he continued lolling underneath the green leaves
shielding him from the sun.

"You're not some wacko wannabe, are you, Mister?"

Mulder looked up to see a young boy of about nine, staring down at him with
cautious curiosity.

"No, why?"

"You've got those funny silver circles around your eyes. My mom says I
should be careful of anyone with them, 'cause they've been acting funny."

"Well, that's true. Caution can be a good thing. So can relaxing."

"Don't you have a job?" the boy asked bluntly.

"Yeah. I'm an FBI agent."

Billy Henderson's blue eyes widened. He thought the FBI was cool and here he
was, talking with a real, live agent!

"Are you on a case?" he asked excitedly.

"Yeah, I'm supposed to be finding out what's causing all the strange
behaviour."

"Wow. What do you think it is?"

"I've decided it's the fairies."

Billy frowned, thoughtfully.

"Yeah, I suppose it is, but no one will believe you, y'know."

"That's okay, guy," Mulder responded laconically. "I'm used it."

"If you say so," Billy answered, before running off to join his friends.

Mulder laughed, again, feeling completely relaxed. He wished Scully was
there to share this feeling with him...of course, Scully wouldn't actually
approve, since she would conclude it was a side effect of his new condition.
Mulder didn't see what the big deal was; he felt great. He chuckled to
himself, imagining the look in Dana's big blue eyes, when she saw the silver
circles in his.

Mulder hopped up. Relaxed as he was, a burst of energy was making him
restless. He figured he had about an hour or so, before he needed to meet
Scully back at the motel. Children weren't the only ones at the park. With a
grin, he noticed a basketball game taking place at the far end of the park.
He was willing to bet at least one or two of the men playing would have the
silver circles. Mulder headed their way, hoping they would allow him to join
the game.

Part 2

Scully entered Mulder's room, smiling. She held up a bag of Chinese takeout.

"Ah, Scully," Mulder purred, taking the bag. "I knew there was a reason I
love you."

"Mulder," Scully drawled in minor reproof as she moved to place a stack of
files on the table.

Mulder moved up behind her.

"But I do love you, Scully," he murmurred.

Scully heard a click as something cold touched her wrist. She turned in
surprise, finding herself cuffed to her partner. He was smiling, his face
suffused with mischievousness and tenderness.

"Mulder,what are you doing?" Scully asked, confused, her trust in her
partner keeping any alarm at bay.

Mulder's smile broadened to a grin.

"Pretty, pretty Scully," he crooned. "We should have done this ages ago."

Bending down, he ran his free hand through her hair, bringing her lips to
his, while she stood immobilized by surprise. Pulling away, she noted his
eyes were half-closed.

"Open your eyes," she ordered.

Mulder pouted a little, but obeyed, revealing the silver circles enclosing
and enhancing the blue of his hazel eyes. Scully sighed.

"Oh, Mulder."

"You don't believe I love you," he sulked. "You didn't believe me after the
Queen Anne, either."

"Mulder, you were drugged and now..."

Mulder drowned out the rest of her response in a passionate kiss, his mood
lightening.

"Naughty Scully, not believing I love you," he purred, caressing her hair.

"Undo the cuffs, Mulder," she coaxed, gently.

Mulder smiled sweetly, then swept her into his arms.

"Mulder!" Scully protested.

Laughing, Mulder layed her gently on the bed, then relaxed on top of her. He
buried his face in her neck, inhaling deeply.

"You smell so good, Scully," he sighed, tenderly.

"Mulder," Scully repeated, forcing a stern note into her voice. "Undo the
cuffs."

A sly light appeared in Mulder's eyes as he removed the cuff from his wrist.
Scully started to release a sigh of relief, until Mulder quickly captured
her other wrist, using the last cuff to fasten her to the headboard. She
gasped, feeling a fearless brand of alarm. Despite where this situation
seemed to be heading, Scully knew Mulder would never hurt her. The thought
that the next few moments could tear their partnership apart, however, left
her shaking with anxiety.

"My Scully," Mulder whispered lovingly.

Mulder kissed her, flicking his tongue against her lips, licking and sucking
on them. Scully moaned. She couldn't resist the sweet kisses being inflicted
on her; even a woman of her control could only take so much. Mulder
unbuttoned her blouse, moving his kisses slowly from her mouth to the point
above her pulse. A ragged whimper of need made its way out from the back of
Scully's throat. Mulder's eyes widened with delight.

"Yes," he growled. "That's what I want; I want to hear your pleasure."

Mulder covered her neck and face with nipping kisses and licks as he
continued.

"Wanna hear you sigh and cry out for me, Scully; wanna hear how much you
enjoy me."

He took a long lick down her ear, biting her lobe, before whispering, "I
want to hear you scream with pleasure, when my cock plunging into you makes
you come!"

Scully groaned, knowing that was exactly what would happen if this
continued.

"Mulder, please," she tried, her voice breathy with arousal. "Think!
Wha...what about when you get better, back to normal? Don't do something
you'll regret," she pleaded.

A mere shadow of normalcy appeared in his bright eyes, dulling the silver.

"I won't regret it, Scully," he husked. "Love you too much for that," he
soothed.

Mulder moved down and sucked her nipple throught the thin lace of her bra.
Scully sighed, feeling herself surrendering. Sitting up, Mulder removed her
shoes, then slid her pants down her legs in a slow, erotic movement. He
gently removed her stockings, before moving half way up her body. Bending
down, he lapped at the edges of her panties, moving to the insides of her
thighs as her legs parted, almost involuntarily. He removed this final
obstacle, running his hands over her silky flesh as he slowly drew her
underwear down over her legs.

"Mulder, Fox," she murmurred.

"Dana," he moaned. "My Scully."

Mulder gently slid her shirt and bra off her shoulders and up her arms,
bundling them around the cuffs. He sat back, drinking in the view. The
motel's lamplight gave her creamy skin a golden glow, highlighting the soft
flush of her excitement. He trailed gentle fingers down her cheek, over her
shoulders to her breast. He cupped her flesh tenderly, rubbing her nipple
with his thumb. The warmth of his hand and the delicious friction sent
searing heat from her chest to her groin.

"Oh, Dana," Mulder whispered, appreciatively.

Mulder moved his fingers down her torso, rubbing her mound softly, before
exploring her slit. Scully gasped, bucking her hips. Mulder used two fingers
to slowly stroke her hot center, until he found her engorged clit. When she
shuddered, he paused, then rubbed briskly at the tender nerve. Scully
whimpered, starting to thrash.

"Fox, my Fox," she whispered.

Mulder stopped, slipping one arm around her waist, and caressing her hair
with his other hand.

"Love you, Dana," he rasped, then kissed her deeply.

Mulder worked his tongue deep between her lips, stroking her mouth,
encouraging her tongue to meet his. Scully returned the caress, enjoying his
masculine flavor, tinged with the salt from sunflower seeds.

"I love you," she admitted, when they broke for breath.

Mulder stood up, his eyes shining, as if she had given him an unspoken
signal. He shakily began undoing the buttons on his shirt, shivering under
the weight of her gaze, toeing off his shoes and socks. Scully drank in the
sight of his bare, muscular chest as he lifted his t-shirt over his head,
revealing his well-toned arms. Mulder took a deep breath, then opened his
fly. Dropping his pants, Mulder pulled down his underwear, freeing his
substantial erection, and kicked the clothing away.

Scully gazed hungrily at Mulder's cock, standing out proudly from a thick
bush of dark brown hair. Mulder stepped forward, gazing down into her eyes.
Scully twisted onto her side, leaning forward as much as she was able.
Mulder came forward, hypnotized by the invitation in her eyes. When he was
close enough, Scully bent her head and took the tip of his cock into her
mouth, rolling her tongue around him, savoringt his taste. Mulder gave a
sharp cry, relishing the electric pleasure for a moment, before pulling
away, gasping and shaking. Scully shivered, too, licking her lips.

Mulder laid down over her again, kissing her deeply. Scully whimpered,
wishing her hands were free so she could run her palms over his strong back.
Mulder leaned over on one elbow, then stroked his other hand down her neck,
over her shoulder, and down her flanks to her hip. Scully gasped, arching
into his touch. Smiling, Mulder moved down until he lay between her legs,
his cheek resting on her thighs.

"That felt so good, Dana, let me show you how good that feels."

Pulling her legs tenderly apart, he lowered his head to her center and gave
a long, slow lick up her wet heat. Pleasure crashed through Scully, making
her cry out. Mulder hummed happily, sending vibrations through her sensitive
flesh, as he continued giving loving licks to the center of her pleasure,
enjoying the musky salt of her sex. He thrust his tongue into her slit,
fucking her with his mouth. Scully's breath became erratic as her delight
threatened to overwhelm her. Encouraged by her moans, Mulder drew her clit
between his teeth, sucking on it softly. Dana wailed, writhing
uncontrollably.

"Fox," she sighed. "Now, please."
"All right, love," he assured her, rubbing his face on the sheets, before
moving up to once again give her a deep kiss, letting her taste her juices
on his tongue.

He tenderly lifted her hips, moving closer. Scully arched, giving him access
to her body. Mulder guided his cock to her entrance, then held her hips
still as he gently eased his length into her depths, with small rocking
motions. Scully closed her eyes, breathing hard. The hard heat of Mulder's
cock stretched her, rocking her body with sharp waves of pleasure. When she
felt his torso meet hers, she opened her eyes and wrapped her legs around
his hips.

"Fox...so good," she sobbed breathlessly.

Mulder nodded, too out of breath to answer, her silken heat driving away his
ability to form words. Taking a deep breath, he pulled out slowly, leaving
only the tip of his cock, then drove back in hard. Scully cried out,
tightening her legs around him. Mulder arched over her to capture her lips
as he continued his rhythm. Scully moaned as he loved her. Breathless from
pleasure, she broke the kiss, burying her face in his neck.

As the drive for completion took over, Mulder began thrusting hard, barely
leaving her tight heat, his own breath coming in ragged gasps. Scully threw
her head back on the pillows, screaming and gasping. Her heat tightened on
him and he watched fascinated as her orgasm consumed her. Pulling her limp
body even closer, he held her tight as he gave in to his own satisfaction.

Scully sighed with contentment as Mulder collapsed bonelessly across her
body, giving his own sated grunt.

"Mulder..." she whispered.

"Mm...s'good, Scully," he murmurred groggily.

"Mulder," she said with more energy, forcing her words to be coherent.
"Don't you dare go to sleep without uncuffing me!"

Mulder laughed, shakily, retrieving the key from the nightstand. He released
her, then lay back down beside her, pulling her into his arms and curling
around her.

"I never did investigate the woods, Scully."

"Tomorrow, Mulder," Scully promised, kissing his shoulder.

Mulder sipped idly at his morning coffee, watching complacently as Scully
savored her french toast with strawberries and cream.

"You should try this, Fox," she encouraged in a dreamy voice.

"I'm stuffed, thanks," he declined, amused.

Scully smirked at him, chewing with slow delight. Chuckling, Mulder took her
hand, kissing and nibbling gently on her fingers. Scully made a soft hum,
almost a purr, of pleasure.

"Um...excuse me?"

The agents sat straight, staring at the curvy blond standing over them.

"Good morning," Mulder greeted, smiling brightly.

"Are you the FBI agents?" she asked doubtfully.

A middle-aged woman spotted Mulder through the restaurant window. Smirking,
she lifted her blouse, showing her bare breasts and posing lewdly. Mulder
stared appreciatively, until a man came along and dragged the woman away.
Scully snickered at her partner's poleaxed expression. Mulder turned back,
smiling sheepishly.

"Yeah, I'm Agent Mulder and this is Scully."

"My name is Lisa Harold. May I join you?"

Scully scooted over, making room for their guest. Lisa looked out the
window, grimacing at the pandemonium.

"Isn't there anything you can do about that?" she asked.

"Not much," Mulder denied. "Local law should be containing the problem,
until we remove the root of the problem. Scully and I were going to look for
the fairies after breakfast."

A customer nearby snorted.

"Even if there are fairies, you'll never find 'em. The forbidden areas cover
a good fifty square miles!"

"Shut up, Morgan," Lisa hissed.

Mulder shook his head, sadly.

"He has a point. It will take us awhile to cover that much territory. Not to
mention we have to find out how to appease the fairies, if they're
responsible."

"It's my fault. And Buck's. We went to the woods and made love right on one
of their mounds," she whispered, then drew a deep breath. "I can show you
the way."

"Did you see a fairy?" Mulder asked eagerly.

"I saw...a being. I have to assume it was a fairy. It didn't look like
anything out of a nursery rhyme. He...was scary. Really scary. I can't
describe him. There was a lot of light and he was so *angry!*" she shivered.
"He said he was going to teach us the value of self constraint. That we'd
long for the ability to control ourselves! See, we knew, Agent Mulder.
Everyone around here knows not to go to those areas."

"You didn't believe, though," Mulder pressed, trying not to sound
judgmental.

"In fucking *fairies??*" Lisa whined.

"It's okay," Scully assured her, placing an arm across her shoulders. "You
couldn't know."

"I don't know what you can do, but if you want to try and speak with them,
I'll take you to the woods," Lisa offered, again.

"Lead on, fair maid," Mulder encouraged, grinning happily.

Lisa led them across town to a park with several trails marked.

"Take this trail and go about half a mile. You'll come to a large rock,
covered with the names of couples. Go left off the trail onto a deer trail.
In about fifteen minutes, you'll come to a large clearing. That's where Buck
and I went."

"You're not coming, too?" Scully asked, surprised.

Lisa's hands hovered protectively over her abdomen as she shook her head.

"No. I can't risk it."

"That's okay, Lisa," Mulder assured her, warmly, grinning. "We'll be fine."

Scully grabbed Mulder's hand and pulled firmly.

"Good-bye, Mrs. Harold."

Scully led Mulder through the woods, swinging their joined hands
arrythmically.

"Slow up, Scully. It's gorgeous out here," Mulder chided plaintively.

"I want to see these damn fairies, Mulder," Scully argued. "*You* usually
get to see all the good stuff, while *I'm* stuck doing autopsies!"

Mulder pouted, but allowed Scully to pull him briskly along. They easily
found the clearing and breathed in a collective sigh of appreciation. A soft
hill rose gently in the middle of the clearing, covered in wildflowers of
various hues. The sun shone down in falls of gold, gilding the leaves and
blades of grass.

"Well, it does look like an enchanted glade," Scully sighed.

"Yeah," Mulder agreed, wandering in slowly.

Scully sat at the foot of the hill, then stretched out.

"So, what now, Mulder?"

Mulder shook his head, grinning, sitting beside her.

"Beats me, Scully. We're on their turf. Hopefully, they'll show up to get
rid of us."

Scully leaned against him, lifting her face to the warm morning sunshine.

"This is nice, Mulder. Much as I want to see a fairy, they can take their
time."

"Why so eager to see a fairy, Scully? You usually don't buy into my theories
so easily."

Scully sat up and cuffed him almost gently across the ear.

"I always believe you, Mulder! It's just...it scares me."

Mulder studied her, perplexed.

"You're the bravest person I've ever met, Scully. Why does the paranormal
bother you?"

"It's...disorderly. I mean...I don't know! Science has rules, it's knowable.
It's...impartial. Mulder, we've chased so many monsters. If there's a
scientific reason, that means there's a human reason for their behavior."

"Well, okay, but...there's both negatives and positives to science, Scully.
For every miracle cure, there's a superweapon. The paranormal isn't any
different."

"Isn't it?" Scully complained. "We've come across vampires, mutant fungus,
ghosts...Mulder, we never encounter anything positive! We've never come
across anyone with ESP or any power who uses it for good! Where's the
fucking altruism?"

Mulder shifted uncomfortably.

"That doesn't mean it isn't out there, Scully! I mean, we're in law
enforcement. We investigate crimes. Meeting negative characters in the line
of work is part of the job."

Scully sighed and nestled her head in the crook of his shoulder.

"I know. You're right, I guess. It just brings me down sometimes."

"You're Fox William Mulder, aren't you?"

The agents scrambled to their feet and turned to face the top of the hill.
Half way up sat a female. Though her form was basically that of a woman, no
one would ever mistake her for human. Her eyes were a glowing amber, looking
almost like the eyes of a cat, despite her round pupils. Rich auburn hair
cascaded in ringlets down her back and sides, held back from her face by a
ring of flowers, some looking like they were still blooming. Her skin was
the color of polished ivory, seeming to almost reflect the sunlight
surrounding her. She was dressed simply in a long blue robe, that was almost
transparent. Her feet were bare. She laughed softly.

"My name is Meighan and, yes, I am what you call a fairy!"

Mulder smiled, tilting his head.

"How did you know my name?" he asked, confused.

"Oh, you are quite well known in certain circles, Fox. It's rare for humans
these days to acknowledge the mysteries of life. Most are complacent in
their own arrogance. So, when a man, whose name evokes a spirit totem or
familiar, searches for us and our like...we take notice."

"I'm not the only believer out there," Mulder protested.

"True. There are others. Few, however, pursue as relentlessly as you do...or
as publically. You're almost like a knight of old, pursuing quests."

"I only have one quest," Mulder corrected sharply.

"Ah yes. We're well aware of the task you've shouldered. The ones from the
stars...a dangerous foe."

"Aren't they your foe, too?" Scully asked indignantly.

Meighan blew her a kiss.

"Why, yes, Danae, they are, as a matter of fact. However, we choose these
days to stay out of purely human affairs. The human collaborators amongst
you are your own problem to deal with. None of ours supports the Grays."

"But, you will help us fight the Grays themselves...and colonization,"
Mulder urged.

Meighan laughed, charmed.

"Oh, yes, my handsome knight. We'll play a part in your battle...when the
time is right."

"Well, for now, I'd settle for you lifting the curse on this town," Scully
countered.

Meighan shrugged.

"The mortals of this town know not to come here. They angered my brother."

"I think they've learned their lesson," Mulder suggested wryly.

Meighan studied him, smiling slyly.

"There's a price for everything, Fox. Will you pay?"

"What do you want?" Scully asked, suspicious.

"A kiss of course!" Meighan laughed. "That's the carrier of the spell. Give
me a kiss, handsome fox, and the spell will break!"

"And your brother won't object?" Scully persisted.

Meighan shrugged.

"Possibly, but perhaps not. His temper is hot, but quick. Easily riled, but
easily settled. I'm sure I have some bauble that will appease him, if he is
not already satisfied."

Mulder cast Scully an apologetic glance, then stepped towards the fairy.
Leaning down, he gave her a soft, lingering kiss. The fairy ran her tongue
over his bottom lip, sighing softly. Pulling away, she licked her lips,
chasing the last remnants of an elusive flavor.

"Well done," she whispered, then disappeared, fading into the sunlight.

Mulder walked back to Scully, then shut his eyes as a note of strange music
throbbed through his entire being. He opened his eyes to meet Scully's wide
gaze. Her blue eyes were clear of silver. He touched her cheek hesitantly.

"Um, Scully..."

She grinned, wickedly, then kissed him, thoroughly, claiming him.

"I still love you, Mulder. This really happened and I won't deny it."

"I love you, Scully," he answered, grinning happily. "What are we going to
tell, Skinner?"

"The truth," Scully replied firmly, then paused. "Well, most of it, anyways.
Not the part about you cuffing me."

Mulder shuddered, agreeing, "That would be too much information."

"I just don't want him to know I let you get the drop on me actually,"
Scully corrected.

"Let's go home, Scully," Mulder laughed.

Scully followed him back towards the trail, enjoying the view of his strong
backside.

"Mulder? You do know I'll hurt you if you kiss another woman, again, don't
you?"

comments

Close as my Heart

Mon, 22 Jun 2020 03:35:38 GMT

Let us praise you, Lord, for simple joys:
The sun in the sky, the breeze upon skin.
Rich blessings are found within easy reach,
The sweetness of fruit, the savor of bread.

comments

reylo fix-it

Tue, 31 Dec 2019 02:43:45 GMT

Rey's eyes widened, as Ben collapsed backward, out of her arms.

"NO!" she cried out, shaking her head.

Reaching out, she placed her hands on his chest, pushing her own life force into his dead body. This could work. They could share! Surely, between them, they had enough life force to let them both live, even if it left them weak and wounded. She felt his pulse quicken, but her energy was draining fast. Ben's eyes opened, going as wide as hers.

"Rey," he protested, weakly. "No. Let me go."

"No. We both live."

Ben didn't sit up, but placed his hands on hers and pushed, shoving the life force flowing between them back into her.

"Ben! Stop it!"

Ben met her fiery glare with a soft smile and a shake of his head. Rey's face hardened into fierce lines and she pushed back, struggling once again for victory over the man she loved. The prize was his life and she would not fail. Ben met her eyes, calm and equally determined, his warm mouth thinning down to the barest line.

"Please."

"I love you, Rey."

"I love you, too!" she snapped, eyes boring into his.

"I know."

"Oh, you're just like your father!"

Ben and Rey started, then looked around them, finally seeing the soft blue glows that surrounded them. The throne room was gone, replaced by a peaceful darkness, utterly unlike the darkness of the Sith. Closest to them were Luke, Han, and Leia. She gazed down at her son, radiating annoyance, amusement, and affection, all in one sardonic stare. A few inches back from them stood a man who looked only a bit older than Ben, a scar running across one of his eyes. Standing close enough to touch him was a woman who looked so much like his mother it made Ben's heart hurt.

The life force between Ben and Rey throbbed, stuck between them, equal in strength and love.

"Please help me," Ben pleaded. "There isn't enough for both of us to live. Help me save her."

"That's why we're here," the young man assured him.

Ben studied the man and his eyes grew even wider, his mouth working, as he tried to find words.

"Hello, Ben. You've finally asked me for something I can grant."

"Who are you?" Rey asked, confused.

"He's my grandfather...Anakin Skywalker."

Rey started again, pulling back to study Anakin better.

"He's your grandson. Don't let him die!"

"No. Sacrifice for love is beautiful, but history doesn't always need to repeat itself," Han grumbled.

"Han, really," Leia chided.

"Well, he's not wrong," Luke defended.

"Children, hush," Padme said, gently. "Go on, Anakin. We're ready."

The spirits moved into a circle around Ben and Rey.

"What happens now?" Ben asked, confused.

"You finally found my real strength, though you were afraid you never would," Anakin told him, pride and love in his voice. He turned to Rey, "You finally know the truth and have found family, though it's not the one you expected. You are the new Jedi order and stronger together."

"There's not enough for both of us," Ben reminded him.

"The Force has more than enough of anything we need," Luke instructed.

The spirits fell silent, their eyes closing. Rey let her eyes close, too, feeling the life force, still held evenly between her and Ben. It swelled, then swelled some more. Rey relaxed, no longer trying to shove the entirety of the essence into Ben. There was too much for any one person to hold. She let it flow back into her, relaxing and submitting, feeling the will of the Force. Life and energy warmed her, strengthening her. She gave a laugh, soaking in the Light, feeling not mere power, but love and hope. The feeling settled on her, like a comfortable tunic and she opened her eyes.

They were back in the throne room, though still not alone. Anakin beamed cockily down at them and reached his hand out to her. Grinning, Rey let him pull her to his feet, as Luke pulled up Ben. Both were drawn into giant hugs.

"Welcome back, Ben," Luke said softly, shaking his head. "I'm sorry."

"That's my line," Ben corrected. "I should have realized...I shouldn't have listened to Snoke. I wanted to be strong, like my grandfather. Instead, I embraced all of his weaknesses."

"You have my strength," Anakin said, coming over and placing an arm around Ben's shoulders. "And, if not, you're still smarter. You figured out the truth a lot sooner than I did."

Ben gave a wry chuckle, pulling his grandfather into a hug.

"What do we do now?" Rey asked, suddenly feeling a bit lost.

"Well, that's up to you. You could fill the universe with fat, happy Jedi babies," Han advised.

"Han Solo!" Padme warned.

"Well, they really should restore the Jedi order," Anakin defended.

"Ani, don't encourage him."

"We can't birth the entire order ourselves," Rey pointed out, laughing.

"If we restore the order, there will be changes," Ben said, firmly.

"Absolutely," Rey agreed. "I won't separate children from their parents."

"And, the Jedi must be allowed to marry. How can we stay connected to the Force, if we breed it out of ourselves?"

Leia stepped forward, taking their hands in hers.

"You are the new Jedi. Feel the Force and let it guide you. Don't follow the old ways, simply because that's the way things were. And don't be afraid."

"You should go now," Anakin told them. "You don't want to miss the party."

"We've won?" Rey asked, remembering her friends.

"You've won," Luke agreed. "Poe sent out a call for help and finally received an answer."

"Yeah, go on, you two. Get out of here," Han shooed. "Ben, tell Chewie 'hi' for me. And remember, we love you both!"

"We love you," Ben said, smiling at his family, feeling them, even as they faded from view.

"Come on. I have Luke's x-wing," Rey said, taking Ben's hand in hers.

They sped to Kef Bir and joined the rest of the Resistance, running into the depths of celebrating Resistance. Rey found Poe and Finn. Ben watched, smiling sadly, as the three friends embraced, clinging to each other. He didn't flinch, when a heavy, furry hand dropped onto his shoulder. Turning, Ben looked up into Chewbacca's eyes, his own feeling wet and hot.

"Chewbacca," Ben said, his voice breaking.

"Cub?," Chewbacca growled.

"Yes. Chewbacca? I--I'm sorry.."

"I almost killed you. I'm glad I failed."

"I killed Dad!"

"You came home."

Chewbacca reached out and pulled Ben into a tight hug, resting his cheek against the boy's dark hair.

"I hate to interrupt, but..."

Chewbacca released Ben, turning with an annoyed groan to find Poe and Finn staring warily at Ben. Ben gave them a rueful smile.

"I know of you, of course. I'm Ben Solo. I'm glad to meet you."

"Yeah. Rey told us," Poe agreed, sounding more astonished than anything.

"Ah, hell. I switched sides. Why not you?"

Finn held his hand out to Ben, who grinned, the crooked joy in familiar to anyone who had met Han Solo. Finn grinned back, chuckling.

"Sure. Better a live friend, than a dead foe, I guess."

Poe took his turn shaking Ben's hand.

"Welcome to the Resistance."

"There's nothing left to resist. I think you'll find you're in charge of a lot more than just an army," Ben advised, gently.

Finn and Poe exchanged glances.

"Maybe the Force can give us a day or two off?" Finn suggested. "Let us party a bit?"

"Oh, that is definitely the will of the Force," Ben assured them, laughing.

"You are definitely your father's son," Rey retorted, joining them, turning and hugging Chewbacca, who roared fondly.

"That's what you like about me."

"Mm. Yeah. One of the things."

Rey put an arm around Ben's waist, laughing up at him.

"So. Partying! Drinks?" Poe suggested.

"I could use a drink," Finn agreed.

"Yes, of water," Rey teased, laughing at the round of protests.

"How about tea?" Ben suggested.

"Tea!" Poe said, horrified. "Are you serious?!"

"No."

Poe just stared at Ben's smirking face, shaking his head, grateful when Chewbacca gave Ben a gentle cuff on the head, sending him staggering a bit.

"Drinks it is," Rey pronounced, as her family walked off together, united and laughing.

comments

online macdoc

Thu, 26 Dec 2019 18:56:54 GMT

Twitter. A Star Wars thread, no less. Saturday. 8:30 P.M.

MacGyver snorted, reading the latest comment on a Star Wars thread on Twitter. He'd dragged Bozer and Riley to see Rise of Skywalker on opening night, feeling a bit like Jack in the process.

happyAXident: I'm telling you, there's no one left to prosecute Ben Solo, even if they wanted to!

wireit321*: They just got a whole lot bigger. Finn and Poe are generals and there are still planetary governments in place. The Resistance doesn't have to prosecute him themselves.

happyAxident: That would be utterly stupid of them! They need Solo to bring down the First Order. The man has valuable information. Letting him rot in prison or executing him won't accomplish anything.

Jedilore257: It would show justice being brought back to the galaxy. It would avenge the millions who died, because of Kylo Ren.

wireit321*: But, in the Star Wars universe, Kylo Ren and Ben Solo wouldn't be considered the same person. And, they consider themselves on the side of Light. Light doesn't seek revenge. Justice, yes. Revenge, no.

happyAXident: Which is more important: some abstract notion of justice or putting the universe back in order?

Jedilore257: What about his victims' families? Don't they deserve anything?

happyAXident: Well, practically, there's nothing to be done for them. Whoever they lost is still going to be dead.

wireit321*: Ouch. I mean, true, but they do deserve closure. Ben Solo owes the galaxy a debt that he needs to pay. That's true. But, I think that debt is better paid through service, than punishment. Let him pay for his crimes, by helping undo the damage.

Jedilore257: He's a space Nazi. He doesn't deserve that.

happyAXident: Probably we should all be grateful we don't get what we deserve.

wireit321*: I believe in giving second chances, even to people who have done inexcusable things. But, even if Ben Solo doesn't deserve a second chance, the galaxy deserves the good things he could do for them.

Jedilore257: Sure, okay. Like he's really changed. He's still a space Nazi. Kylo Ren just changed his name to Ben Solo, because Rey is stronger and he wants in her pants.

happyAXident: ROFLMAO I like you. You're almost as cynical as me.

wireit321*: Well, that's...fair. I don't interpret his actions that way myself, but you do you.

happyAXident: That's pretty calm and stable for a guy whose handle is about blowing stuff up. :D j/k

wireit321*: Thanks. I like your handle, too, though I don't think Bob Ross would want you chopping the trees down.

happyAXident: Now, now. Ross supports ALL artistic choices. Are you a fan, too?

wireit321*: Well. I'm more a fan of him as a person and of his philosophies, than as a tv star. I don't paint and I'm not bored enough to watch someone else paint.

happyAXIdent: Oh, come ON, fella! You don't have to be bored to watch my man Bob. You said you like his philosophies, right?

wireit321*: Yes, I did. LOL Okay, fine, I promise to hunt down an episode.

Reylolove715: Guys, unless you're proposing Ross as a Jedi Master, you're off-topic.

happyAXident: The Jedi should be so lucky. It was two comments. Sheesh.

wireit321*: It was a few, but nevermind. We can always talk in direct messages, if you'd like to just chat?

happyAXident: Sure, sounds good.

Twitter. Wednesday. 3 P.M. A few months later.

wireit321*: Hi, Denise.

happyAXident: Hel-lo, Mac! I wasn't expecting you to be on. No work?

wireit321*: Yeah, but I finished my project. The boss decided to give me the rest of the day off.

happyAXident: Oo. Hurray for the end of the day!

wireit321*: And I was glad to see this day end. LOL How was yours?

happyAXident: Unproductive, which is a good thing.

wireit321*: All of my hobbies qualify as productive. I like tinkering.

happyAXident: Well, I paint and that's productive, but I also like soap operas. I spent a lot of time at online museums today.

wireit321*: Soap operas? Really?

happyAXident: Sure. You don't like them?

wireit321*: I've never watched them. It's an unusual interest for a man.

happyAXident: ...

happyAXident: I'm laughing at you, jsyk.

wireit321*: LOL Fair enough, I guess. Which ones do you watch?

happyAXident: Guiding Light and Days of Our Lives. You should watch an episode or two! It's not Shakespeare, but it is fun.

wireit321*: I'll keep that in mind.

happyAXident: I did get a letter from my kid today.

wireit321*: Awesome! Are you going to get to see him soon?

happyAXident: I think so, yes. It always takes some planning, but that's all right. What about you? Any plans to see your own wayward parent?

wireit321*: I don't know. Part of me wants to, but...well, like you said, complicated. He doesn't make it easy. And you aren't wayward. You're at least trying to do the best you can for your son. I'm not sure the same can be said of my father.

happyAXident: Wow. Not even dad. Father. I guess he really screwed up this time.

wireit321*: Yeah. He did. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, though.

happyAXident: Would you like some very callous advice?

wireit321*: Sure?

happyAXident: Don't take him so seriously. He's a crap dad and you know that. So, stop pining for the wonderful father he'll never be. Take what you can get.

wireit321*: I don't exactly chase after him. He keeps trying to re-establish our relationship. I mean, I do wish we could have one, but...idek.

happyAXident: When he behaves, enjoy his company and, when he doesn't, ignore him.

wireit321*: Stop expecting him to be better than he is?

...

wireit321*: Denise?

happyAXident: Define better? If someone wants to connect or reconnect...we all make choices, Mac, good and bad. You set a goal and you find a path to it.

wireit321*: Voice of experience?

happyAXident: As a matter of fact. I was scared, when I found out I was pregnant. Not for me. For my child. Which was a very weird experience for me.

wireit321*: You didn't think you'd be a good mom?

happyAXident: Hell, no. I was sure I would suck at it. My parents did and...I have a hard time forming connections with people.

wireit321*: You've connected with me. *grins*

happyAXident: Because I've worked at it. Because I want to. And, I wanted to connect to my son.

wireit321*: So, what did you do?

happyAXident: I read books, I talked to people I thought might give me answers...doctors and a couple of religious people. I followed parenting websites.

wireit321*: You talked to doctors? No offense, but you didn't strike me as the type.

happyAXident: I strike you as the type to talk to religious people? LOL I'm not the type to do either, but I had to make sure I wasn't going to pass my problems on to my kid.

wireit321*: So, you're saying my dad could have chosen to be a good father and didn't.

happyAXident: You already knew that. I'm saying he can make that choice, now. If he wants to connect with you, he needs to find a path to that. It's not your job.

wireit321*: *grins* Thanks, Denise. That's actually pretty wise.

happyAXident: Well, it's that or blow him up with a car bomb and I know how you feel about that sort of thing.

wireit321*: ROFLMAO Did anyone ever tell you that you have a very dark sense of humor?

happyAXident: A couple of people might have mentioned it. Including you. I did warn you that I don't have a filter. Oddly enough, you've still stuck around, you brave boy you.

wireit321*: Well, we have a lot in common. Speaking of, are we still on for a Zombieland marathon this Friday?

happyAXident: Absolutely.

wireit321*: Cool. I gotta go. I'm gonna help Bozer get dinner together.

happyAXident: Heh. Don't blow the house up! Or, if you do, take photos.

wireit321*: lol I'm getting better! I think I can avoid any unintentional fires.

happyAXident: Oooo, but what about intentional ones? :D :D :D

wireit321*: Bozer would kill me, if I deliberately ruined a meal, so no. LOL I'll talk to you later.

happyAXident: ttfn

Twitter. Friday. 11 P.M.

wireit321*: I'm really surprised Tallahassee and Little Rock ended up together.

happyAXident: Why?

wireit321*: He's...thirty-five years older than her?

happyAXident: Sure, but, they're also in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. Dating options are a bit limited.

wireit321*: Okay, fine. LOL I'm being squeamish, sorry.

happyAXident: You're so adorable, when you're being a prude. LOL Don't worry. If she was any younger, I'd be having very violent thoughts.

wireit321*: Gotta love those mama bear instincts.

happyAXident: Only when you aren't on the receiving end of them.

wireit321*: LOL Well, true! Were you smiling, when you typed that?

happyAXident: I don't know! LOL I am, now.

wireit321*: The Arts District is having a Fall Festival starting next Saturday, here in L.A. A lot of the restaurants and galleries are teaming up and some new artwork is going to be displayed. Is there any chance I can convince you to go with me?

happyAXident: You're very persistent, in a polite sort of way.

wireit321*: You've never actually said "No, Mac, I don't want to meet you." You've always just said later and "Let's get to know each other a bit better, first." Well, I think we do know each other now.

happyAXident: People are different in person, than they are online. That's always true.

wireit321*: Okay, say it is. That's not necessarily a bad thing. They say people don't change, but the truth is most of us change every day, as experience molds us. Meeting you, getting to know who you are offline, is just a first step to watching those changes.

happyAXident: That's very philosophical.

wireit321*: Do you want to meet me or should I stop? Because, I do have strong feelings for you and I do want to meet you. I need to know, if it's mutual.

happyAXident: Of course, it's mutual. What I want or don't want isn't the issue.

wireit321*: Y'know, you're just as likely to be disappointed in me, as you think I'm going to be in you.

happyAXident: HA! No chance. But, you're right. Our meeting is...the next step. But, listen. I want you to know I love you. I started this without any real purpose in mind but it’s grown into something amazing that I don’t want to lose. I would do almost anything to have a real, full relationship with you. I just want you to remember that.

wireit321*: I will. I want that, too. That's why I want to meet you, so we can have that.

happyAXident: We'll see. Where would you like to meet?

wireit321*: Hauser and Wirth, noon? Asuka Anastacia Ogawa is going to be displaying new works. Um. Shoot. I don't have a photo to give you. How will we know each other?

happyAXident: Well, I certainly don't have one of me. Look for a tall, dark-haired woman in a dark green sweater, a brown suede skirt, and a black leather jacket.

wireit321*: I thought you said you only have black clothes. LOL

happyAXident: Currently, but I also have an Amazon account. Hurray for two-day shipping. lol

wireit321*: That is handy. I'll see you there.

happyAXident: Good-night, Mac.

One week later. Saturday. The big day.

Mac stood on the second-floor balcony, looking down at the other guests, as they prowled around the exhibits. Well, only one of them was really prowling. Mac's hands gripped the balcony railing, flexing and twisting, in time with his aching heart. He stared, as his date walked slowly around the room, her eyes scanning constantly.

For him. For danger. Both.

Murdoc moved with her usual predatory grace, sturdy and contained. Mac tilted his head, studying the soft curls surrounding the curves of her cheeks, for once free of gel. Murdoc, Mac told himself firmly, was anything but soft. He let his eyes drift to Murdoc's arms and legs, seeking out the taut lines of muscle he knew were there. The strong lines of her long limbs and firm torso led to the curves of her hips and breasts. Murdoc's breasts usually seemed proportionately small, compared to the rest of her long, lanky body. Her tight green sweater emphasized their fullness, showing they would be almost too generous on a smaller woman. Mac squeezed his eyes shut, remembering Murdoc's usual outfits, black and functional, but, even in his own mind, he found his attention wandering, appreciating her robust beauty.

MacGyver snorted in amusement at himself. What else had he expected? Murdoc was never androgynous, but always matter-of-factly female. Her clothing and bearing so completely failed to either emphasize or hide her womanly curves that it could only be deliberate. Her gender was a simple fact, no more noteworthy than her hair and eye color.

And, apparently, MacGyver wasn't the only one who appreciated Murdoc's beauty. A tall, athletic man with perfectly groomed hair, wearing an expensive suit, sauntered up to Murdoc, standing just inside her personal space. Murdoc turned to the man, her lips curled up and her eyes shining brightly. MacGyver knew that particular look promised murder and he felt a slight twinge of guilt at the warm satisfaction that filled him. Whatever they said to each other, the man backed away from Murdoc, his hands raised in surrender. Murdoc watched him leave, her shoulders shaking with mirth.

"I would do almost anything to have a real, full relationship with you."

MacGyver supposed he should find that "almost" comforting. Sighing, Mac pulled himself away from the balcony and headed back downstairs. When he reached her, Murdoc was quietly studying a Zezhou Chen painting, where a woman with short, black hair reacted in shock to a man being completely crushed by a heart-shaped arrow, as a gigantic, shadowy cupid walked away.*

"I think it's a portent," Murdoc announced, when MacGyver stopped next to her.

"Neither of us believes in portents," MacGyver said shortly, shaking his head slightly.

"Mm. I was beginning to wonder if you were going to come down from there."

MacGyver gritted his teeth lightly, shaking his head.

"Yeah, strangely enough, I needed some time to collect myself."

"I gathered. Your glare spoke volumes."

"You never looked directly at me. How do you know I was glaring."

"Other than you still are? There's plenty of reflective surfaces here and I have amazing peripheral vision."

"How long were we chatting, before you realized it was me?"

"Oh, Angus," Murdoc said, laughing, shaking her head. She took his arm and began walking, guiding him around the room. "Someone with strong morals and a username about going boom? I didn't plan on meeting you in that Star Wars chat, but I knew it was you."

"So, why did you keep talking with me?" MacGyver pressed, following along.

"I like talking to you and you were finally talking back...just chatting, relaxed."

"You think it's reasonable to expect me to just 'chat' with someone who's promised to kill me?" MacGyver said, guiding them into the shadows of a large, neglected statue.

"Mm-weelll...no. Not actually. But, life isn't reasonable, either. And, it was nice, while it lasted."

Murdoc turned and leaned against the wall, leaving MacGyver standing with his back to the crowd, which milled around them, as if they weren't there.

"Just tell me why!" MacGyver demanded, forcing himself to take a step back, instead of forward.

"I did tell you, Angus. I enjoy talking to you. And, when you weren't busy hating my job, you seemed to enjoy talking to me."

"That wasn't you! The real you," MacGyver denied, bitterly.

Murdoc didn't answer, her full lips quirking up at the corners in a wry smirk.

"That's not fair," MacGyver said, swallowing hard.

"No, but really, Angus. Do you truly think I maintained a persona for that long? You may have noticed that I'm a prolific liar, not actually a very good one."

"That's because you don't care, if anyone believes you or not."

"True! So, I didn't lie, except by omission."

"Right. You just decided we could be online friends, because you enjoy chatting with me."

"It's not healthy, that you find that so unbelievable."

"Not really. You're a sociopath, remember?"

"I have trouble connecting to people, but I can if I work at it. Remember?" Murdoc retorted, keeping an eye on the crowd to make sure they were clear of eavesdroppers.

"I also remember you promising to kill me, telling me what an honor it would be."

"I didn't mean that in a 'the world would be better off without you' way," Murdoc protested. "You're hard to kill. Succeeding would be proof of your killer's skill. Anyway, if I still intended to kill you, I would have shot you in the heart, before shooting Helman, not the shoulder."

"You wanted to play hero, so you could get in to see Cassian."

"Come on. Do you really think I didn't know where Cassian was all along?"

"Yeah, I do. That's why you planned on torturing me."

"Don't be silly. I told you I don't have the patience to torture people. I just needed to give you a crime scene to investigate, so you would find Henry and bring him to me."

"So, why didn't you go get Cassian?"

"I was just waiting to get my collective in place, first. Instead, they betrayed me and I had to shoot you to get Helman or we both would have been dead."

"Is that why you tried to bring all those assassins together? As bodyguards for Cassian?"

Murdoc tilted her head slightly from side to side, neither confirming nor denying.

"Strength in numbers and all that. I thought we could have each others' backs. I didn't want to take Cassian on the run. That was strictly a last resort."

"And Jill?"

"Jill endangered Cassian. Or, did you think Liu found him, because I was indiscreet?"

"Jill's investigation led Liu to Cassian?" MacGyver asked, feeling a bit shocked.

"Yes and, honestly, Boyscout? The hell were your people doing setting someone like Jill on my trail?"

"Someone like Jill?" MacGyver demanded.

"Look, she was smart and I'm sure very sweet. But, honestly? She needed armed backup to lead a kindergarten class. A trained operative she was not!"

"That was my dad's decision and she didn't deserve to die for it!"

"It was her or Cassian and Cassian always comes first," Murdoc warned, her gaze cold and intense. She gave an angry snort, then looked around the room, stepping close to MacGyver to gaze past him. "It's taking an awfully long time for your friends to arrive."

"I never called them."

MacGyver couldn't help smirking, as Murdoc blinked at him, confused.

"Why not?" Murdoc asked, in a voice carefully devoid of hope.

"We need to talk and...what do you think I was doing on that balcony?"

"Getting control of your temper, so you didn't end up killing me in front of all these innocent bystanders?"

MacGyver smiled wryly, staring Murdoc down silently. She gave a huff of annoyance, spreading her hands in frustrated surrender.

"Okay, fine, that's me, not you. So what were you doing?"

"When I first saw you here, I assumed my feelings for Denise would just...evaporate. They didn't. So, I thought I just needed a few minutes, time for my rational side to take over. It didn't. I had to figure out where that left me."

"Which is where, exactly?" Murdoc asked, grimly.

"Up a creek. I still love you. Which is absurd and not good for my health."

"You love me, but still think I want to murder you," Murdoc drawled, her head tilted in exaggerated thought. "Hm. You're right. That's, again, not healthy."

"I was actually thinking of how Matty will react, when she finds out. I'm not going to try and hide anything from her."

"Ooh! That could be fun. She'll throw me back in prison and we can do conjugal visits."

"I don't think that qualifies as a 'real relationship.'"

"I never really thought you would let me have that anyway," Murdoc admitted, returning to her spot on the wall.

"You said you would do anything to have a real relationship with me. Does that include not killing, except in absolute self-defense?"

"Well, naturally, boyscout. You would never have a relationship with a practicing assassin."

"I fell in love with one," MacGyver argued, his mouth twisting sourly.

"No, you fell in love with a woman, who, unknown to you, happened to be an assassin."

"That I happen to know professionally."

"You do get more than your fair share of plot twists," Murdoc said, smirking.

"Thanks."

"I'll apologize, if you want."

"We've already established you're unconvincing, as a liar."

"Huh. Rude."

"Murdoc! Denise," MacGyver sighed. "Do you not believe me?"

"That you love me? That isn't the question."

"What is then?"

"Whether you can believe that I love you...or at all."

"Convince me," MacGyver urged, simply.

"Spoilsport," Murdoc accused, watching MacGyver's lips curl up.

"Sorry, Scully, I'm not saying it."

Murdoc huffed, shrugging sharply.

"If I knew how to convince you, boyscout, I'd have been in your pants years ago."

"You were married."

"Only technically. The marriage was over. I just would have made the inevitable divorce a higher priority."

"Fair enough."

"You don't have any ideas, either. Sad, really. So good with guns and tech, but we both suck at emotional intelligence."

"Actually, I do have a solution or at least part of one. How does one person eat an entire bear in one sitting?"

"One bite at a time," Murdoc answered, tilting her head and frowning lightly. "So?"

"That's how you prove you love me. One murder-free day at a time," MacGyver explained. "The only real problem is dealing with your legal troubles."

"So, we talk to Matty. The government has made deals with far worse people than me. I just have to prove my usefulness outweighs my crimes."

"It'd help if you had something specific to offer them."

"Well, there's the fact that I spotted at least three forgeries, while waiting for you to come down from the balcony."

MacGyver gave a slow blink, his eyes widening.

"O-kay, what?? Which ones?"

"A Sherman painting and at least one of the Liu Weis. One of the Kusama sculptures, maybe, too."

"Well, that's something for us to take to Matty," MacGyver agreed, smiling.

Murdoc stepped forward, not smiling, gazing intently at him, a strange note of uncertainty in her posture. Leaning forward, she brushed her lips across MacGyvers'. He swallowed and stepped forward, closing the slight distance between them. He placed one hand on her shoulder and another on her cheek, pulling her into a deeper kiss.

"We'll work it out," MacGyver promised.

"Mmm, but if we can't, we can still do the conjugal visit thing, right?" Murdoc asked brightly.

"I mean, I could arrange that anyway, if you really want me to!" MacGyver offered, laughing.

Murdoc smirked.

"Maybe later. Right now, let's just look at some art."

MacGyver silently offered her his arm, smiling when she rested her hand on him lightly.

"Are you going to show me the fakes?"

"What fun is that? I think I'll let you show me, instead," Murdoc challenged.

"You're on."

comments

macdoc vignettes

Tue, 12 Nov 2019 04:46:55 GMT

Maniac Monday

He liked her. He'd already decided that.

That wasn't going to stop him, though. After all, this was about family.

And, it'd been too long, since he simply had fun, his own way.

Monday afternoon.

Desi strolled across her gym's parking lot, alert and ready, even though she wasn't expecting trouble. It was simply protocol and common sense, in her line of work. There were tall buildings nearby and she routinely scanned the tops, making sure there was nothing suspicious in view. All seemed to be clear.

Seemed to be.

Until, the paintball struck her square in the chest, leaving a splotch of bright green all over her.

Desi froze, waiting for another shot, scanning in vain for any sign of her attacker. Nothing more happened and no one suspicious was in sight. A teenage boy stopped in front of her, looking confused.

"Um, you okay? Is there some sort of event going down?"

"I'm good," Desi assured him. "There's no event. I don't why this happened."

"You a fan of the game?"

"Not especially and I'm not a fan of whoever pulled this stunt."

"I don't blame ya," the boy agreed, shrugging, as he walked away. "Kick his or her ass."

"Sure thing."

Fortunately, she had gone to the laundromat, before going to the gym, and had a clean shirt in her car. She changed in a nearby bathroom and vowed to find out who had shot her and why.

Tuesday morning.

Desi stepped outside of her house, placing her trash out for pickup. As she turned to go back into the house, she felt something strike her in her butt. Reaching back in reflex, she felt something wet, then examined her hand, groaning in anger.

Blue paint covered her fingers.

Desi didn't bother going inside. Dignity be damned. She was going to find whoever was responsible and tear them a new one. Playing was only cool, when both parties were in on the game, after all. Desi did a full circuit of her house, but didn't see anyone or anything. Nothing but her butt had been hit. An uneasy sensation crawled down her spine. Swallowing, she climbed the tree in her front yard, hoping she would see someone or something out of place.

There was nothing.

Desi leaned against the tree trunk, thinking hard. On the one hand, whoever was doing this was good, really good, and not a friend. This wasn't the style of any friend of hers. She considered that it might be one of her new teammates, but...she couldn't picture any of them doing this. She couldn't picture any of them being good enough to do this, though they were slowly earning some respect from her. They weren't so bad.

On the other hand, it was just paintballs. Desi's instincts could detect a certain playfulness in the attacks. If they were attacks. Yes, the situation was maddening, but she didn't really have proof that it was threatening. If her opponent wanted to use live rounds, wouldn't she already be dead? Honestly, nothing about this made sense. She wasn't going to waste Phoenix resources, if this was some loser's way of trying to get her attention. She would just wait, until he revealed himself, and set him down. Hard. No, she wouldn't tell Matty or the others about this. Not yet.

Friday evening.

Desi walked into her living room, yawning. She was glad the date was over. How had she thought that guy had a brain? Oh, well. Live and learn, she coached herself, reaching for the lamp switch. She turned it and it the light bulb exploded, covering the lampshade and end table in orange paint.

Desi shut her eyes, forcing herself to a semblance of calm. If whoever was watching, she wasn't going to entertain them, with her reaction. This was getting serious.

Really? After two days of peace! Shooting her in the open was one thing, but invading her home? She was going to find the bastard and kill him. Or her. It could be a her. Desi could do this, if she wasn't sane. It made seeing the appeal of this difficult. Well, that sealed it. She wasn't going to call an emergency meeting, but this qualified as escalation. She was going to have to tell Matty and the others.

Damn it.

She considered calling the police, but decided it wasn't worth it. They wouldn't believe her and she was fairly certain the culprit hadn't left behind any evidence. Matty would be upset, but that was life.

Monday morning.

Desi sighed, as she headed for the front doors of the Phoenix foundation. She was not looking forward to admitting that someone had been continually getting the drop on her, even if it was only with a paintball gun. She again admitted to herself, that her assailant could have dropped her permanently, at any time. She only wondered why they hadn't.

"Hey, good morning!"

Desi turned to find Mac approaching, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to a nauseating degree. Desi didn't mind mornings, but there were limits. She plastered on a smile.

"Good morning, Mac."

Mac frowned, slightly, sensing tension in Desi. The confused frown turned into shocked dismay, when a burst of liquid red appeared over her heart. Instead of falling dead, Desi turned her face to the sky and screamed in fury. Her anger only increased, when another paintball hit her in the stomach. Paintballs hit her in each of her shoulders, then her legs, before a virulent purple ball hit her directly in the middle of her forehead. She wiped away the paint, before it could get in her eyes and saw Mac gaping at her, looking on the verge of laughing.

"Are you in on this?" she demanded.

"N-no!" Mac assured her hastily. "I...wait. This has happened before?"

"Yeah, a few times over the past week. Always a single shot, even if you include the exploding lightbulb."

"And, you didn't tell anyone??"

"I was going to today. At first, it seemed...almost playful. Until whoever it is broke into my house."

"Oh, man. I'm sorry, Desi. I thought he was out of town..."

"He? He who?"

"Murdoc," Mac admitted, reluctantly. "I don't know anyone else good enough to do this and not get caught."

"Okay. Who's Murdoc?"

Mac blinked at her, stunned.

"Jack didn't tell you about Murdoc?"

"No. I've never heard of him. Breaking into files is Riley's thing, not mine. So. Who is he?"

"He's a former assassin, who came in from the cold and now works with the Obsidian division."

"What's he got to do with you?"

"Uh, he's my boyfriend," Mac explained, sheepishly.

"You're dating? And, you're dating a former assassin."

"That's right," Mac agreed, blandly.

"Your boyfriend is a lunatic," Desi said, sharply.

"Wellll, yeah, but he's never actually denied that."

"Why would I deny it?" Murdoc asked, walking up the sidewalk towards them.

"Hey. You've been in town all this time and I haven't got to see you?" Mac complained.

"Sorry, Hero, but I was on a mission. Sort of," Murdoc defended himself, coming and kissing Mac deeply for a moment.

"Hang on."

Mac sent a quick text, waiting for a reply. Fortunately, she received one fairly quickly. Unfortunately, it wasn't very helpful.

"Jack?" Desi guessed.

"Yeah."

"What'd he say?"

"He didn't mention Murdoc, because you can't really prepare anyone for Murdoc. Which is true. Plus, letting you find out for yourself is funny," Mac explained, unable to stop the grin from spreading over her face.

"I can't say I disagree with the first part of that," Desi said, smiling. "So, how did you even do this? I never saw a sign of you."

"I was too far away for you to spot me."

"Paintball rifles don't have that kind of range," Desi corrected flatly.

"Normal ones don't. Mine does," Murdoc informed her mildy, smiling.

"Okay, so what was all this? Hazing the new kid on the block?"

"Oh, no, no, no! This, Des, was revenge!"

"Revenge?"

"You were being rather gentle, if you were getting revenge," Mac pointed out, amused.

"You're all lunatics," Desi decided. "The question stands. Revenge for what?"

"For the way you introduced yourself, of course," Murdoc said, then hastened to explain, seeing the emerging anger in Desi's face. "Oh, don't get me wrong! I approve and I definitely see your point. But. I had to avenge them, anyway."

"And I'm currently head to toe in paint, because I messed with your girlfriend?"

"Hm? Oh, no. Not at all. The exploding light bulb was my revenge for Agnes. You broke into her house. I broke into yours. This was revenge for Leanna."

"Leanna?" Mac asked, puzzled.

"Why go all out for her?" Desi agreed, equally confused.

"Because, I was an assassin for decades and I never once took anyone out, when they were on the toilet. That's just gauche," Murdoc scolded.

"Have you ever considered therapy?" Desi asked, smirking.

"I'm a sociopath. Giving therapy to sociopaths tends to drive the therapist crazy."

"Besides, believe me, he's very high functioning."

Desi stared incredulously at Mac, while Murdoc dissolved into giggles.

"I'm almost sure the girlscout didn't mean it that way."

"What way?" MacGyver asked, then blushed. "N-no! I didn't!"

"Good, because I don't want to know that. Do me a favor. Get your backside into work and let Matty know I'll be back, as soon as I can get cleaned up."

"Uh, yeah, I better get inside," Mac agreed. She kissed Murdoc again, grinning up at him. "I will see you later. You have an entire week to make up to me."

"Sure, Hero. You'll see me tonight."

MacGyver went inside, leaving Desi and Murdoc standing together on the sidewalk.

"So, is this little game over now?"

"For now," Murdoc agreed, his smile going cold. "I do approve of you testing their defenses. But, keep this one thing in mind. These people? They're my family. So, play nice with them."

"I got their backs. I'm not gonna damage people I'm supposed to protect."

"Excellent."

Territorial Tuesday

"Honestly, you are impressive. Have you considered asking for a raise?" Murdoc said, her tone dripping with admiration.

MacGyver felt his jaw clenching and wished he could quit reacting. Murdoc was just being Murdoc. Nothing she said meant anything, beyond emotional manipulation. Never had. Never would. The sickening thing was CIA agent Darren Markus seemed to be eating the flattery up. He was smiling, almost warmly, at Murdoc, paying close attention to the assassin. Every. Word.

MacGyver hated himself for wanting to punch both of them in the teeth.

It didn't help that Murdoc was noting his every reaction, the corners of her lips turned up just so slightly in amusement. MacGyver gave her a flat look back, hoping to appear merely impatient and unimpressed. It only seemed to amuse Murdoc even more, her eyes shining merrily.

"I'm glad you approve of my methods, Ms. Murdoc," Markus said lightly. "We weren't expecting any unofficial help in our investigation."

Help. Right. MacGyver supposed Murdoc showing up and killing Leo Jennings, the trafficker and drug runner they'd been sent to capture, was "helpful." Granted, Leo and his men had been about to execute MacGyver and Markus.

"Oh, you're very welcome," Murdoc assured him.

MacGyver couldn't help rolling his eyes in derision.

"So, are you actually being paid to take down Leo or is this some of your 'pro bono' work?" MacGyver asked, coldly.

"We all find little ways of giving back to others, Boyscout," Murdoc lectured, shrugging. "If I can bring a little justice to some working parents whose son, their only child, has been kidnapped, well..."

"Well, you didn't have to commit murder to do it," MacGyver interrupted, almost amused at the disbelief in Markus' face. "I've had plenty of run-ins with Murdoc before. We...know each other."

"Indeed, we do," Murdoc admitted.

"Oh, I know quite a bit about you, even if we've never met. I hate to admit it, but you're something of a legend at CIA headquarters. Prisoner 218. I'm willing to cut you a deal, of sorts. Don't try to run. Help us get the kids safely onto U.S. soil and we might be able to reduce your sentence...or at least provide better accommodations."

MacGyver felt an acid flare of anger burst through his gut, but he nodded, anyway. He couldn't believe Matty had partnered him with this guy. Politics sucked. He couldn't deny, though, that Murdoc might be useful. They hadn't known that Leo had a partner, Chadwick, who was responsible for obtaining the teenagers they planned to sell. Leo was responsible for keeping them secure. Until they got home, MacGyver and Markus had to assume they were being pursued.

"Sounds fair," Murdoc agreed. "If you'll excuse me, I'm just going to use the little girl's room."

Murdoc disappeared into Leo's bathroom and MacGyver blew out an angry breath.

"Problem?" Markus asked, annoyed.

"Yeah, two of them. One, if Murdoc doesn't betray us, she'll 'help' us by killing anyone who comes after us. Yeah, they're bad guys, but I don't feel like throwing their lives away. Second of all, you're taking her flattery way too seriously. She doesn't mean a word of it. She's not impressed with you or anything but her own cleverness and charm," MacGyver finished, appalled at the bitterness in his own voice.

"I can see why she calls you boyscout," Markus said, grimly. "Look. We're out-numbered and Chadwick knows we have the kids. He has the resources to come after us and take the kids back. We need help, at least until back-up arrives. As for Murdoc's flattery, I'm not taking it at all seriously. I don't care, if she loves me or hates me. We're just going to get the job done and arrest her afterward."

"It won't be that easy," MacGyver promised.

"It will be, if we keep our heads together."

"Fine."

Murdoc came back into the room, shrugging, with her hands spread apart.

"Are we ready to leave, gentlemen?"

"Yeah. Let's go," MacGyver ordered, grimly.

They made their way to Leo's basement, finding four teenagers, two boys and two girls, locked into dog kennels. MacGyver swallowed, hurting for them, as he noted the fear in their eyes. He lifted his hand in a calming gesture.

"Take it easy. The guy who was holding you is dead. We're going to get you back to your homes."

MacGyver grabbed some wire from the basement walls and began picking the locks on the kennels. As he worked, a long series of thumps shook the ceiling above them. Footsteps. From the sound, MacGyver guessed there were probably three or four men, coming in at a run. Murdoc tensed, her hand going for her gun.

"Stand down," Markus ordered. "Get those kids free and protect them. I'll handle whatever is up there."

"No. We should all stay together," MacGyver disagreed, frowning.

"I know what I'm doing Agent MacGyver," Markus said, dismissively. "I'll let you know, when it's safe to come up."

"Well, he's dead," Murdoc said, cheerfully.

"I thought you admired him."

"Hm? Oh, well, I'm easily impressed, when it comes to Langleys. Most of them are jokes. The glamorous poster boys of the intelligence industry. And, mostly, he was almost competent."

"Nice," MacGyver grumbled.

"We both know I'm not," Murdoc disagreed, smirking. "Okay, kiddies, things might be about to get ugly, so you're going to hide and keep really, really, really quiet. Yes? Good!"

Murdoc ushered the kids into an adjacent room that was mostly filled with a washer and dryer. The kids squeezed in, sitting on the appliances and the floor. She came back out and found MacGyver glaring up the stairs, his arms folded across his chest. He gave Murdoc a brief look, as she returned, then turned back to the stairs.

"Well, you're in a good mood," Murdoc commented, amazed. "What's wrong, Boyscout? We've won."

"I'm just waiting for Markus to return," MacGyver said, blandly.

"O-ooookay. Would you like to talk about it?"

"No," MacGyver denied sharply, then hastily corrected himself. "There's nothing to talk about."

Murdoc walked in front of MacGyver, blocking his view of the stairs. She tilted her head, studying MacGyver, who avoided Murdoc's gaze. A delighted grin bloomed on Murdoc's lips.

"You're jealous!" Murdoc crowed.

"I'm...what?" MacGyver scoffed. "Don't be absurd. Why would I be?"

"I complimented another agent and you're sulking!"

"I'm not sulking. I just think him going upstairs was a bad idea."

"Probably a fatal one," Murdoc agreed.

"Look," MacGyver said, with an aggravated sigh. "I didn't need you complimenting Markus to know that all the flirting and over the top gushing about how fun I am are just mind games. Okay? Even if I did, your gloating about my so-called jealousy would tip me off."

The smile disappeared from Murdoc's face. She blinked, gazing with some alarm at MacGyver.

"Those aren't mind games," Murdoc protested. "I meant every word!"

"Yeah," MacGyver scoffed, laughing. "Prove it."

Murdoc gave a tight smile.

"Well, since you offered!"

Murdoc swiftly grabbed MacGyver by the shoulders and pulled him close, pressing their bodies together. Bending, Murdoc placed a surprisingly gentle kiss on MacGyver's lips. MacGyver almost instinctively kissed back, leaning into Murdoc's embrace. Murdoc pulled back, studying MacGyver's face to try and gauge his reaction. MacGyver blinked up at her in astonishment.

"You kissed me."

"You told me to prove it. I've tried everything else and nothing worked."

MacGyver's gaze turned inward, blinking rapidly, as a series of thoughts flashed rapidly through his head. He looked back up at Murdoc, who gazed almost warily at him. MacGyver made a soft sound in his throat, then leaned up and kissed Murdoc.

"I'm not supposed to do this," MacGyver reminded both Murdoc and himself.

They heard gunfire and screaming. MacGyver was fairly certain he recognized Markus' voice.

"Oh, yeah, he's dead," Murdoc repeated. "We'll negotiate things, later. Right now, I think we better get out of here."

"Yeah, I think you're right," MacGyver agreed. "If you can get us to the kitchen, I think I can whip up something to get us to one of their trucks."

"Whatever you say, Boyscout. Come on, kids! We're leaving!" Murdoc called to them.

MacGyver followed Murdoc up the stairs, the kids trailing behind them. He thought rapidly, of what he would say to Matty...what MacGyver would have to do to finally claim and keep his favorite psychopath. One thing was certain.

No one else could have Murdoc. She was MacGyver's.

Whump Wednesday

MacGyver strolled around in downtown Detroit. She'd taken a two-week vacation to attend a science seminar. Stunned, MacGyver came to an abrupt halt on the sidewalk, her eyes wide. Murdoc. Murdoc was walking, just two blocks ahead of her, heading away from a small mom and pop grocery store. MacGyver's astonishment turned to smug anticipation. Murdoc hadn't spotted her and, with a bit of care, he wouldn't. Falling back, staying just close enough to keep Murdoc well in sight, MacGyver began tailing him.

A few blocks ahead, Murdoc turned and entered an apartment building. Once he was through the doors, Mac sprinted to catch up. Stopping at the apartment building's door, Mac took a deep breath and went inside. The building was cheap enough that there was no extra security, a fact that rather surprised MacGyver. She supposed Murdoc didn't trust anyone to have his back. Fortunately, MacGyver was just close enough to get to the elevator and see it land on the third floor. She took the elevator up and her luck held. The elevator doors opened, just as the door to an apartment on the left of the hallway shut.

MacGyver smirked, listening to locks slide into place. As if.

MacGyver stood outside the apartment door for a couple of minutes, waiting for Murdoc to relax inside and get comfortable, at least as comfortable as the assassin probably ever did. She frowned. What if this was a trap? Tailing Murdoc back to his apartment had been rather too easy. Murdoc was many things, but an easy mark was never one of them. MacGyver considered calling Matty, but there was too much chance that would give her away and they were too far away to be any help. She would just have to hope that knowing this was likely a trap would help her keep out of it.

Taking some tools from her pockets, MacGyver slowly and carefully removed the locks, including disarming a couple of alarms and booby traps. Easing open the door, she took a good look around. The door opened into a small living room, with a short wall on the left, leading to an open door. The living room was sparsely, but comfortably, furnished with a couch, coffee table, and an armchair. A small television sat against one wall, though it wasn't connected to cable, just a dvd player and antenna. So, this was a temporary shelter, MacGyver decided. Through a door to the right, MacGyver could just make out the corner of a very rumpled bed.

She heard a thump and running water through the wall to the left. Moving slowly and silently forward, MacGyver walked towards the door. She peeked in and found Murdoc standing in a small kitchen. MacGyver started to say something, when Murdoc began coughing. Violently. He turned, hacking into the sink.

Pausing, MacGyver took a good close look at her nemesis. Murdoc was dressed in thick, gray woolen, pajama bottoms, and a long-sleeved t-shirt. His skin was sickly pale and dark circles were smudged, a deep purple, underneath his dark eyes. Normally well-groomed, Murdoc's black hair hung in untidy strands against his cheeks. MacGyver saw bright dots of red on Murdoc's cheekbones, showing fever. His lips were dry and chapped. Murdoc finally looked up from the sink, flinching, when he saw MacGyver standing there.

"Well. Shit," Murdoc said, weakly.

"You do not look your best," MacGyver agreed, glancing wryly at the small pile of medicines and tea that Murdoc had dumped on his counter, in an effort at self-care.

"I don't get sick much," Murdoc said, shrugging, "but, when I doooo..."

He broke off, gesturing at himself. MacGyver felt a warm swelling of sympathy and affection expand in her chest. Without his black leather armor, Murdoc just looked lanky and almost ordinary. It was a bit disturbing to see her deadly nemesis looking vulnerable and off his stride. MacGyver had expected to be amused at catching Murdoc unaware, but instead, she felt a bit sad.

"Is any of that stuff helping?"

"No, not really," Murdoc mused, his brow crinkling in irritation. "Honestly, I think I feel better without it. Well, the medicines. The tea helps."

MacGyver walked forward and grabbed Murdoc's wrist, pulling him, almost unresisting, towards the door.

"Oh, Agnes, I love you," Murdoc moaned, "but if you try to drag me to prison right now, I really am going to snap your pretty neck."

"I'm not sure you're up to it," MacGyver told him, smiling, still walking. "How about to a doctor?"

"That's worse than prison," Murdoc told him flatly.

MacGyver gave a warm chuckle, shaking her head.

"Well, fortunately, we're not going to either of those. I'm taking you to bed."

"Oh, this is a fever dream, then!" Murdoc decided, then changed his mind. "Nah. If this was a dream, having fun would sound a lot better."

"You're not dreaming and the idea is not to have fun. Not unless sleeping qualifies."

"Well, actually, at this point it does," Murdoc admitted. "I keep coughing myself awake."

"Yeah, you're dehydrated and that isn't helping either," MacGyver said, absently running a thumb across the papery skin of Murdoc's palm. "Is your stomach upset?"

"Not really, but the coughing is making me a bit queasy. I can't stand the feel of a bunch of liquids sloshing around, while I'm hacking my lungs up."

MacGyver didn't reply, just looked down at Murdoc's bed, a bit warily.

"The sheets are clean. I washed them this morning," Murdoc said, bypassing MacGyver and sprawling out on the sheets.

MacGyver grabbed the blankets and pulled them up over Murdoc, helping him to get comfortable. Murdoc sighed, letting his eyes close, a bit appalled at how nice that felt. Maybe there was something to the frankly dangerous notion of people needing other people. Being sick sucked, sure, but he hadn't realized it turned him into a needy mess.

"Did you mean that?" MacGyver asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "About loving me?"

"Hm? You knew that already."

"No," MacGyver corrected, giving an astonished laugh. "I really did not."

Murdoc cracked his eyes opened, puzzled.

"No?"

"No."

"I thought I'd been rather obvious about it."

"You have not expressed yourself in ways normal people would recognize."

"Agnes, you are wonderful and amazing, but you are not normal," Murdoc said, with a weak chuckle.

"Yeah, okay, fair enough," MacGyver agreed, brushing a stray strand from Murdoc's forehead.

"It doesn't really matter, though. The only thing you want with me is to see me in prison."

"I don't want to send you to prison," MacGyver corrected. "I have to send you to prison to keep you from killing other people, including my friends."

"You don't know that. You never tried anything else."

"Like what?"

"I don't know," Murdoc complained, sulking. "You're the good guy, not me."

"If I had any ideas, I would've used them by now. But, since you brought it up, I'll consider it, while you recover."

"I don't want to kill your friends. They're more fun than anyone else I've ever met. They're cute."

"You make them sound like puppies."

"Mm, no. Just young. Really young."

"You're not exactly an old man."

"They make me feel like one," Murdoc grumbled, annoyed at himself for being so open. "I just remembered. I went into the kitchen, because I'm hungry."

"Well, get some rest and I'll make us both some lunch."

"Agnes, please don't burn down my kitchen. I'm too ill to properly enjoy it."

"I'm getting better at that. Don't worry. I can manage soup and sandwiches."

"Hm, I'm sure you can, Hero," Murdoc murmured sleepily, his eyes drifting back shut.

MacGyver grinned, finally feeling the thrill of triumph she had expected, when she first started tailing Murdoc. Murdoc loved her. Wasn't that a kick? MacGyver let herself savor her own warm feelings for a few moments, then headed to the kitchen.

Home

Murdoc did his thing and escaped. Jack and Mac did their thing and caught up to him. Then, something else did its thing...a thing that happened only once every several centuries, like a rare weather pattern. A hole in this reality opened, connecting to another reality. It opened, just as Murdoc and MacGyver accidentally collided and Jack threw himself at them, determined to get them apart, before MacGyver got hurt.

All three collapsed, looking unconscious, but sharing images from the other side's past, as they lay between the two realities.

The Other Side

Jack leaned against the boxcar opening, listening to MacGyver and Murdoc exchange stories about their equally garbage fathers. He grimaced, wishing one or both of them would shut up. Federal agents were not supposed to play nice with hired killers. Not mercenary ones, at least. Jack's partner knew that and had firmly expressed how little he cared.

For whatever reason, Dennis Murdoc was endlessly fascinated by his own would-be killer, Agnes MacGyver.

As they traveled along, Jack went over his own history with MacGyver, wishing he could bring himself to just put the crazy kid in the ground.

When they first met, they fought. Jack had expected to take the scrawny girl down fast and hard, but the kid surprised him. There was a vicious anger to MacGyver's punches that made Jack a bit uneasy. The younger woman had a darkness inside her that went way beyond PTSD. Sure the kid had seen combat, but not enough to mess her up that badly, not unless something was wrong, to begin with. Jack decided to lay off of MacGyver. He didn't want any part of releasing mojo that bad.

Seven weeks later, Jack stepped on a bomb and ordered MacGyver to get clear. They weren't exactly friends, but there was a sort of bond between them. MacGyver seemed, on a personal level, to need something he thought Jack could offer. But, the kid also didn't seem to be very good at connecting to people. Jack was more than a little shocked, when MacGyver came to his rescue. Almost as surprising, MacGyver successfully got them both out alive. Jack had vowed, then and there, to give his own life for his partner, if necessary, to keep her safe and to try and give her whatever it was she needed.

One week after that, everything went to hell.

They were walking through a building the Army had commandeered and a lot of brass was present. Suddenly, MacGyver came to a halt, her eyes wide with a wary sort of wonder. Jack followed his gaze to a major with a similar build and hair color.

"Dad," MacGyver stammered.

"Hello," Major MacGyver greeted, his voice lacking any warmth or welcome.

"You're in the army?!" MacGyver asked, incredulous, beginning to smile.

"Obviously. Go about your duties, soldiers."

"But, Dad..." MacGyver protested, her expression falling.

"That's an order," James MacGyver said, icily.

"Yes, sir," MacGyver agreed, her tone flat and her eyes empty.

They'd gone on. Later that evening, Jack returned to their bunk after eating and having a couple of beers. He found MacGyver angrily throwing her property into a duffel bag.

"What are you doing?" Jack asked, confused.

"I'm leaving."

"You've been reassigned?!"

"No. I'm just leaving."

"Dude, the army doesn't work that way," Jack told her, laughing incredulously.

"I don't give a damn how it works!"

"Hey, hey...calm down, now. Is this because of your old man? Look, he's a major. He just didn't have time to talk right then..."

"Oh, we talked. I haven't seen him, since I was ten, but evidently he's been there all along. In the background," MacGyver said scornfully. "He's been guiding me 'in the right direction.' He even got you assigned to me."

"Okay, that's upsetting, but he's still your dad. Maybe, now that you know, you can spend time together and get things to a better place."

"He doesn't want to. He said so."

"Seriously?!"

"He doesn't have time for personal relationships, but I need guidance. I can rest assured he's satisfied with the work I do. I'm nothing to him, but a tool for the greater glory of the U.S. government."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm not sure. Something as far away from his plans for me as possible. Do me two favors. Don't hesitate to sound the alarm on me. I'll be long gone, before anyone can do anything. Keep your record clean, go home to your family, and be grateful you have one that loves you."

"Aw, kid..."

"Good-bye, Jack."

For a long time, Jack didn't know what happened to the kid. Jack had gone on to join the CIA, then the DXS. Along the way, he met Dennis Murdoc, a single father and sarcastic nutjob that Jack had slowly come to like and admire. Jack couldn't name anyone who beat Murdoc for style and unflinching competence. Murdoc had an uncanny way of strolling through chaos, getting the job done. It was equally unnerving and comforting, when it wasn't pissing Jack off.

Murdoc and Jack had been working as partners at the DXS for about three years, when Agnes MacGyver came up, exploding her way into both their lives.

Jack walked around the junkyard MacGyver had lured them into, his gut churning. He hadn't expected to see Agnes MacGyver again. He certainly hadn't expected the kid to show up trying to kill him. A hand fell on his shoulder and he just missed turning and shooting his own partner. Murdoc gave him a wry smile.

"Wow. This gal is something. All these traps and she just built them out of the junk she found lying around!"

"That's her M.O.," Jack agreed. "According to the file, she breaks into her victim's homes and sets traps for them from the stuff she finds in their homes."

"Yes, I read that," Murdoc agreed, not even trying to hide his admiration. "Without leaving fingerprints or hardly any traces at all."

"So, you got any plans for how to catch her? Because, we don't even know if she's still here."

"She's here. I don't know what happened between you two, but she wants to watch you die. She could have set devices in all our homes. She didn't."

"Rumor is she doesn't kill kids."

"I'm not taking that chance," Murdoc replied, coldly.

"Hey, man. Cassian's safe. We just gotta get MacGyver behind bars. So. We need a plan."

"I have one. I need you to play dead."

"Oh, that doesn't sound fun."

"No, but it will work. We find one of her devices and set it off. You play like you got caught in it. I sneak up on her and you pop up, at the same time."

"That plan sucks."

"Do you have a better one?"

"Nah, it'll work. It just sucks. This whole thing sucks. I gotta warn you, though...I don't think I can kill this kid."

"I don't want you to kill her, just help me get the drop on her."

"Uh, Dennis..."

"I'm not going to kill her, either, Jack. I know she saved your life and...there's something about her."

"Yeah, you're both lunatics."

"Flatterer."

They got to work and, sure enough, they soon had MacGyver caught and covered by their weapons.

"I have to admit, I do admire your abilities," Murdoc told her. "To stroll empty-handed into a junkyard and create all of this..."

"Not quite empty-handed," MacGyver interrupted, holding something up for them to see. A Swiss Army knife. "I always have this on me."

"Look, Mac, I get wanting to blow off your dad, but isn't becoming an assassin a bit much?!" Jack protested, grabbing the knife out of her hand.

MacGyver just glared at him. She turned her attention back to Murdoc.

"You're good. Most people would be dead by now. Jack would be, if you weren't helping him," MacGyver said, admiration and petulance mixed in her voice.

"Why did you agree to kill him?"

"It's my job," MacGyver said, her expression shutting down, radiating stubborn pride.

They'd captured MacGyver, but that hadn't been the end to anything. They found themselves consulting the looney genius, when things got really rough. Jack wasn't sure why MacGyver helped them. She made it clear she hated Jack, though Jack couldn't imagine why. The only one she seemed to really like was Murdoc, of all people. She'd even done her best to help Murdoc pretend to be her and hadn't that been a fun conversation!

"Look, no offense. You're good at what you do," MacGyver conceded. "But, I can't teach you how to be me! I improvise. That's how I get away with stuff. No plan, no set up. I go in, find what I need, and get out. I have no idea what "the Architect" has lying around his house."

"Okay, so I bring you with me."

"Hell, no."

"Come on. Don't you want a little field trip?"

"Sure. I go along, help you find out who the Architect is...and become a victim of friendly fire!"

"Agnes, look at me," Murdoc said, leaning forward and pinning MacGyver with that stare that always creeped Jack out. He even went so far as to rest his hands on MacGyver's. "If you die from a bullet, it won't be one fired by me or Jack. I promise. We'll do everything we can to protect you."

Jack hated that Murdoc was right about that, but it worked. MacGyver's expression softened, even as she looked hesitant. Jack could tell the kid wanted to believe Murdoc.

"You promise me?"

"On my life," Murdoc assured him.

"Okay."

The kid had helped. Jack granted that. MacGyver had also escaped, in the ensuing chaos of the mission, a fact Murdoc had accepted with infuriating aplomb.

Which brought them to today. MacGyver had killed some higher-ups in a terrorist organization that was familiar with the Phoenix. Instead of simply killing her, the terrorists decided to make some money by handing her over. Unfortunately, they had also approached Nicholas Helman, who had introduced MacGyver to the world of being a killer for hire. When Helman tried to leave the business, MacGyver's attempt on Helman's life killed the older assassin's wife, instead. Now, Helman was after all of them.

It was an ugly business all around, in Jack's opinion, but it got MacGyver back in prison.

"Penny for your thoughts, Jackie boy."

"Oh? You done talking to your pet assassin?"

"For now. She's your friend, too."

"No, she used to be a friend. Now, she wants me dead."

"That's your own fault," MacGyver snapped, glaring from across the car.

"Excuse me?!" Jack protested. "What did I ever do to you? Why do you hate me?!"

"Maybe you should ask yourself that...when you're done figuring out why the train is slowing down," MacGyver said blandly, smirking.

Murdoc swore, rushing back over to MacGyver and releasing her.

"We have no choice. Jump," Murdoc instructed.

"Um, hold on," MacGyver hedged, uneasily.

"Nope, go," Jack said, flatly, shoving MacGyver out of the car.

"Mean, Jack," Murdoc reproached, though mildly amused.

Jack ignored him, jumping. Murdoc swiftly followed. Jack herded all three of them together and they ran, heading for a metal building a few yards ahead. Murdoc examined the heavy lock on the building's door with frustration.

"It's low-grade steel," MacGyver lectured. "The high carbon in my cuffs would go right through it."

"Hell, no!" Jack objected.

Murdoc ignored him, taking out the key and releasing MacGyver.

"Get us inside," Murdoc ordered softly.

MacGyver obeyed, making quick work of the lock, just as Helman got close enough to open fire. They ducked inside, Murdoc keeping a firm grip on MacGyver's arm. As soon as they were away from the door, Murdoc brought them to a stop.

"Why do you hate Jack? You don't hate me."

"You weren't there, when I left the Army. Jack was. He knows...working for the Phoenix is the worst possible betrayal of our friendship!"

"Why? Because I stayed with the good guys?" Jack scoffed.

"My father is not a good guy!"

"What does your father have to do with the Phoenix?" Murdoc prompted, confused.

The fury bled out of MacGyver's face, leaving her looking young and vulnerable. She avidly studied both Jack and Murdoc, seeing genuine confusion on both faces.

"You--you don't know? He's your oversight," MacGyver explained, anger and sorrow in every word.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding," Jack groaned, his eyes shutting in frustration.

"Why else would I be angry at you?" MacGyver asked, lost.

"We didn't know," Murdoc promised her, "and we can't do anything about it right now. We have to survive first and we're going to need your help with that."

"I can build a trap, but I'm not being bait."

"Yeah, great. I guess that's my job," Jack grumbled, heading away.

"I need to find some stuff first."

It didn't take MacGyver long to find the items she needed and Jack quickly went off, hunting for Helman. Murdoc kept watch on the open doors, his bright eyes taking in everything around him. Fortunately, he was well-prepared, gun in hand, when Helman came up behind MacGyver, shotgun raised to fire.

Murdoc shot first, dropping MacGyver with a shot to the shoulder, before firing multiple rounds into Helman's torso. Walking around MacGyver, Murdoc fired a last shot between Helman's eyes. Murdoc turned and found MacGyver staring up at him in horrified shock, shaking her head. Acting purely on instinct, Murdoc put his gun away, sitting down on the floor and pulling MacGyver into his lap.

"I'm sorry," Murdoc swore, putting pressure on the wound. "Dammit, dammit, I'm sorry."

"You promised," MacGyver said, mournfully. "Murdoc. You promised."

Murdoc looked briefly stunned, then gave a shaky laugh.

"I promised not to kill you," he corrected, smiling. "I never said I wouldn't shoot you to save your life. I want to keep you around and shooting you was the only way."

"Do you?" MacGyver scoffed, her eyes sliding away.

"Yes, very much. You always amaze me," Murdoc told her, kissing her forehead.

MacGyver pulled away, severe and indignant.

"I'm not a child," she said dryly, leaning up and kissing Murdoc's mouth.

Murdoc deepened the kiss, finally tasting what he had longed for, what he hadn't known he was welcome to. Jack rushed back into the room, drawn by the gunfire.

"Okay, really? You two are really gonna do that?"

"I'm about to go back to prison. Be nice to me," MacGyver ordered.

"Are you?" Jack asked, skeptically, before turning to Murdoc. "Is she?"

"Aren't I?" MacGyver chimed in, surprised. "What are you planning?"

"Hm. I'm not entirely sure," Murdoc admitted. "It depends on how much Matilda will let me get away with. But. If I could arrange it, would you come in from the cold?"

"And you'd be there? With me?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay, yeah. Yeah," MacGyver said, sighing. "I'm tired."

"You're losing blood," Murdoc agreed. "Come on. Let's get you to the hospital."

Home

The hole closed and Murdoc sat up, seeing the other two also coming awake.

"Well," he quipped, shaking his head. "That seems rather unfair."

"Yeah. I never got an apology," MacGyver agreed, dryly.

"Well, I was saving your life."

"Only so you could get to your kid," Jack scoffed.

"If you say so, Jack," Murdoc agreed amiably, then noticed the laser-bright stare MacGyver was leveling at him. "Something, Hero?"

Jack and Murdoc both watched a thousand thoughts flit across MacGyver's mind in the space of seconds.

"No. That wasn't the only reason," MacGyver realized, her gaze narrowing. "Would you come in from the cold? If it was an option?"

"We'll never know, because no one, least of all Mac Daddy and Matilda, is going to agree to that."

"Would. You."

"Yes!" Murdoc agreed angrily. "The only reason I ended up on the wrong side of the law is the right side wouldn't have me, remember?! And, even if you really wanted to do that for me, Hero, you can't."

"We'll see about that," MacGyver said, accepting the challenge, before commenting more softly, "Those two. They weren't that different from us."

"Just remember I have Mac's back in both universes. You hurt her and I'll end you," Jack promised, disbelief and dread sitting heavily on his chest.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Jack," Murdoc promised.

Freeform Friday

8 A.M.

Murdoc walked into the kitchen, scrubbing his hair with a towel.

"Good morning, Dad," Cassian greeted, warmly and somewhat smugly.

Murdoc almost dropped the towel, though he would firmly deny it.

"Cassian! Uh...what's going on? Is everything all right?"

"Everything's great," Cassian promised, coming over and giving Murdoc a hug. "I get to spend Thanksgiving and the entire weekend with you! I'm going home Monday at the earliest!"

Murdoc hugged Cassian, running a hand through his boy's hair.

"How long have you been here?"

"Since about three-thirty this morning," Cassian admitted. "Aunt Mindy and Uncle Roger had to catch their plane at five. They're going to visit with her parents."

"Why didn't they take you?" Murdoc asked, not yet offended, but wanting to know the details.

"Her parents don't like Roger and her fostering kids. Aunt Mindy says they're kind of uppity. She doesn't visit them often, but her sister is pregnant and talked Aunt Mindy into visiting."

"Mm. How long have you known you'd be coming down here?" Murdoc with playful suspicion.

"A few days," Cassian admitted, grinning. "I asked Aunt Mindy to arrange things with Aunt Mac, so I could surprise you."

"Heh. That's my boy!" Murdoc encouraged. "I'm glad you're here."

"Good morning! Oh. Hey, Cassian, what's up, guy?" Bozer greeted, with cheerful kindness.

"I just got done surprising my dad."

"Not an easy thing to do," Bozer admitted. "I'm afraid breakfast is cold cereal today, guys. I gotta get Thanksgiving started, if we're going to eat around four."

"Oh, that's okay..."

"Agnes went to get some takeout for breakfast. I think she's bringing back breakfast burritos."

"Awesome!"

"Sounds good to me," Bozer agreed.

"Can I help you cook?" Cassian asked.

"Yeah, you gotta be better at it than Mac!"

"What would you like us to do?" Murdoc asked.

"Well, mostly, I want you to keep your girlfriend out of here! Last year, she managed to blow up the mashed potatoes."

"Did she really?" Cassian asked, intrigued, while Murdoc just laughed.

"She really did," Bozer assured him, chuckling, too. "Other than that, I might need help prepping vegetables."

"Consider it done," Murdoc agreed, hearing the front door open. "Speaking of which, I think I'm on distraction duty. Come say hello, Cassian, and grab some food for yourself and Wilt, okay?"

"Okay, Dad."

They found MacGyver setting breakfast out on the patio table. She looked up at Cassian and grinned.

"Did we succeed in surprising your dad?"

"Yep!" Cassian crowed, running over and giving MacGyver a long hug. "Bozer says he's to distract you from going into the kitchen all day, but he said I could help."

"Oh, now, that's not fair," MacGyver mock-pouted. "You blow up one bowl of mashed potatoes..."

"That's what Bozer said! How did you do that?" Cassian asked, mystified.

"Well, I was trying to use..."

"Actually, I don't think Cassian needs to know the details, even if they can be explained without a bunch of advanced physics," Murdoc interrupted, handing a bag of food to Cassian. "Go on. Take some to Wilt."

"Oh, sure," Cassian said with exaggerated innocence. "I'll give you two time alone!"

He rushed away, dodging around his dad's playful swatting, laughing merrily.

Murdoc waited until he was sure the boy was gone, then pulled MacGyver close to him, kissing her soundly.

"Thank you."

"Thank Mindy. It was mostly her doing. I just cooperated."

"Agnes," Murdoc chided, then chuckled. "Oh, never mind."

4:30 P.M.

Cassian finished helping MacGyver set the table, just as Bozer arrived on the patio with the turkey.

"All right, you guys. Go grab a dish from the kitchen and we can get this meal started."

Everyone cooperated, bringing out the mashed potatoes and other vegetables and side dishes. They set everything in place together, then sat around the table. MacGyver poured out wine for the adults and sparkling grape juice for Cassian. She raised her own glass of wine in a toast.

"To this family. I'm more grateful than words can say that you are all here and all well."

"Cheers!" everyone echoed.

"Let's eat!" Jack prompted.

"Um, we should say prayer first," Cassian offered, hesitantly.

"Yes, we should," MacGyver agreed, immediate and calm. "Actually, Cassian, would you do the honors?"

"I-I guess so," Cassian agreed, looking at Murdoc, who gave a confident, encouraging nod.

"Dear heavenly Father, thank you for all this food. Thank you for providing us what we need and family and friends to enjoy it. Be with us this year and help us show gratitude by being generous to others. Father, thank you for bringing me and my Dad into this family. Thank you for giving him a family and people to help him be happy. Thank you for Aunt Mac and everyone here and allowing us to be part of them. Amen."

"Amen," everyone echoed, touched, though Murdoc's sounding a bit bewildered.

"We're thankful for both of you, too," MacGyver said warmly, "and, yes, Jack, you can eat now!"

Everyone laughed, beginning to pass the trays around. Cassian looked up to see Murdoc's reaction. Murdoc just shrugged, his expression wry, as he leaned over and placed a kiss on top of Cassian's head.

"You're a great little guy," Murdoc murmured. "I wasn't sure, at first, how you would react to me and Agnes."

"I like her a lot," Cassian whispered. "She's good for you."

"Yes," Murdoc agreed, grinning. "Yes, she is."

Seduction Saturday

Murdoc sat, manacled to a metal chair, in yet another interrogation room. He had his eyes closed, not resting, just existing inside his own head, while he waited. There was nothing to see in the interrogation room and nothing to do. Until his visitor arrived, it was just another empty space, carved out into the world.

Murdoc heard the door scrape open and opened his eyes. An eager grin lifted the corners of his mouth.

"Agnes. It always sooo good to see you."

"You say that every time we meet," MacGyver observed, smiling slightly herself, her head tilted to one side and eyes slightly narrowed.

"Well, even I have to tell the truth every once in a while."

"I've been thinking and replaying our history together."

"I do that all the time."

"Mm, I believe you do," MacGyver agreed. "But, I've noticed a few things. You've saved me, more times than you've tried to kill me. You've been rather...consistent, persistent, in your praise of me. As for honesty, I think you've been lying, when you said you still want to kill me."

"I haven't threatened that, since I got my son back. Well, except as leverage. I mean, if you're going to believe I would kill you, I might as well use it to my advantage."

"Fair enough, I guess," MacGyver agreed.

She walked over and Murdoc studied her, taking in her soft jeans, button-up shirt, and the lack of any jacket. She looked casual and appealing. Smirking slightly, MacGyver pulled Murdoc and his chair away from the table, leaving plenty of space.

"What happens now, Hero?"

"You're in love with me," MacGyver told him, ignoring the question.

"Mm. And, what are you going to do about it," Murdoc challenged, smirking.

MacGyver sat down in Murdoc's lap, looking deep into his eyes. She didn't answer in words, but leaned slowly down and ran her tongue over Murdoc's lips.

"Ooo, Hero, I think you're supposed to ask first!"

"Why? We both know I'll stop, if you tell me to," MacGyver said, shrugging and waiting.

Murdoc stared, taken aback, his mouth working, as he tried to find a response. He shrugged helplessly. They both knew he wasn't going to give that order. MacGyver smiled, more gently, running her hands through Murdoc's hair.

"I thought not. I hoped not."

Murdoc just hummed with pleasure, until a more practical thought occurred.

"As much as I appreciate this, I don't think whoever is viewing those cameras is going to agree."

"Never mind about the cameras."

"Okay, but, Hero, I won't get to see you, if you get thrown into a mental hospital. Though, if you get arrested, we could be roommates!"

"You really do think you're funny, don't you?" MacGyver scoffed. "We're not going to get caught. Relax."

MacGyver kissed Murdoc, working their mouths open and tasting his tongue. Murdoc shivered as the hero drowned out his other senses. MacGyver ran her hands down Murdoc's chest, then gave a huff of annoyance.

"You're over-dressed," MacGyver told him, taking out her Swiss Army knife.

"Could we start with my jewelry?" Murdoc asked, rattling his cuffs.

"Nope. Those come later."

MacGyver sliced away the sleeves of Murdoc's jumpsuit, then pushed the remains of it off of his shoulders. She made quick work of the t-shirt underneath, once more impressing Murdoc with her skills. Finished, MacGyver kissed Murdoc, running her hands up and down Murdoc's arms, then stopping at her shoulders, massaging them. When Murdoc was hazy and relaxed, MacGyver let her hands roam lower, brushing over Murdoc's stomach and making him squirm.

"I want to touch you," Murdoc told her.

"I'm busy touching you," MacGyver retorted, letting her hand slip down past Murdoc's hips.

Murdoc came awake with a groan, then gritted his teeth, hissing in angry frustration. Figures. A dream. A damn dream. Real anger began burning in him, until the cobwebs of sleep fell further away. He took a deep breath, feeling MacGyver's warmth and her breath on Murdoc's shoulder, as she nuzzled her lover in her sleep. Blue eyes fluttered open.

"Murdoc? Did you have a nightmare?" MacGyver asked groggily.

"No, I just woke up at an inconvenient moment. It was actually a very lovely dream. I woke up just as you put your hand down my pants."

"Bad timing," MacGyver agreed. "Sounds like a nice dream."

"Oh, it was. I was still in prison and you decided to seduce me in an interrogation room. I was manacled and you were doing very interesting things to my clothes with your little knife."

"Sex in an interrogation room? Is this a kink?"

Murdoc paused, giving that thought.

"Mm? If it is, I didn't realize it before. It's worth exploring."

"I'll save that thought for later," MacGyver promised, rolling on top of Murdoc and kissing him. "For now, why don't we just pick up, where your dream left off?"

"You always have the best ideas, Hero."

Supernatural Sunday

Friday. 5 P.M.

MacGyver sat on a park bench, throwing handfuls of seed to a variety of birds--a tree swallow, a trio of robins, and a sparrow. The park was beautifully kept, the trees intermixed skillfully with shrubs and fragrant flowers. The day was warm, but not oppressively so.

The only oppression came from MacGyver's thoughts and anxious heart.

MacGyver loved Murdoc. He'd tried for years to deny it, to stifle it, and to argue himself out of it. Against all reason, MacGyver had finally accepted the fact. He'd assured himself it was unrequited. He might not have been able to deny it, but he felt safe ignoring it. That is, until Murdoc pulled the rug out from under that thought.

MacGyver shifted against the bench, feeling slightly sore from his and Murdoc's recent love-making. He'd spent the night in the assassin's arms and woke up alone.

Murdoc claimed to love MacGyver, too, and it'd been easy to believe, when wrapped in her arms. Well, easier, anyway. Murdoc had kissed MacGyver hungrily and, as usual, showered him with praise and admiration. But, Murdoc was a consummate, or at least habitual, liar and physical attraction wasn't love.

MacGyver wasn't in love enough to shrug off or ignore Murdoc's darker nature. If they were to have a relationship, Murdoc would have to respect certain boundaries, starting with not hurting MacGyver or his friends. MacGyver wasn't sure Murdoc could do that. He wasn't entirely sure Murdoc wanted an actual relationship.

MacGyver was pretty sure he was wishing for the moon.

"Such a troubled brow on such a young face and on such a fine day."

MacGyver started, looking to the other side of the bench. An old man, tall and striking-looking, sat next to MacGyver. The stranger wore his long, gray hair in a neat braid and his black eyes shone with amusement.

"Yeah, sorry. I was lost in thought," MacGyver admitted. "Hello."

"Hello. Reminiscing about a lady love, perhaps?"

"She's not even respectable, much less a lady."

The old man laughed merrily, showing off his bright, white teeth.

"And what troubles you about this unseemly love of yours?"

"Whether she really loves me or is playing a game," MacGyver said, the words pouring out. "We're...opponents in our lines of work."

"Ah. Is she generally trustworthy or are you hoping for better than usual in this regard?"

"The word trustworthy doesn't belong anywhere near her."

"My name is Cato. May I have yours?"

"Angus MacGyver, but I prefer Mac."

"A strong name. And what is your lover's name?"

"I have no idea," MacGyver admitted, laughing. "When I first asked her, she said she had many names, but was partial to Murdoc, if she had to choose one."

"We have no truer names, than those we choose for ourselves."

"I guess so."

"Do you want her love to be real?"

"Well...yeah. I love her. But, I can handle whatever the truth is. I just can't afford to be wrong, either way."

"Hmm. We all need truth and people to be lights in our lives. Would you like my help?"

"Sure, though I don't know what you could do. Thanks for listening to me. It's not something I can really discuss with the other people I'm closest to."

"You're welcome. Here, take my card. You might find it useful someday."

MacGyver took the card. Itw as unadorned, listing only a phone number and an address in one of L.A.'s business districts.

"Okay, thanks," MacGyver said, a bit dubiously.

Cato laughed, standing up again. He held out a strong, slender hand and MacGyver shook it.

"Good-bye, Mac. I hope things resolve happily for you."

"Good-bye, Cato."

Saturday. 6:45 A.M.

MacGyver dreamed.

"I don't trust you," he told Murdoc, frustrated.

"Well, you don't have any reason to," Murdoc said, laughing warmly.

"I want to! I love you."

"I love you, too, partially because you're not a fool. Did you expect me to be offended?"

"I don't know."

"Most people would be?" Murdoc teased.

"But, you're not most people," MacGyver answered, drily.

"Too true, Boyscout, too true."

Waking, MacGyver replayed the dream. He gave it a fifty-fifty chance of being in character for Murdoc. She seemed to fake offense, more often than she actually felt it. MacGyver felt a sense of confusion flood through him.

But, the confusion wasn't his own.

MacGyver sensed something, a presence or layer of thoughts, brush across the surface of his mind. At first, the sensation was cold, even angry, but then MacGyver felt confusion return, with a hesitant warmth. He swallowed, trying to gather his thoughts together. Was he having a stroke?

Alarm and fury burst across his brain.

MacGyver got up and looked at his reflection in the mirror, trying hard to separate his own emotions from...from what? From someone else? From his brain misfiring? He knew he, himself, wasn't angry, though he was a bit alarmed. Examining his reflection, it was hard to believe he was physically ill. His eyes were properly dilated, his skin tone healthy, and his heart and breathing even. He felt fine.

The alarm and fury disappeared, replaced by relief and amusement.

MacGyver shoved emotion away, trying to think. Everything had been normal, when he went to bed last night. He quickly shuffled through the past twenty-four hours, recalling his conversations, what he had eaten...nothing seemed abnormal. Well, for him. MacGyver thought about the presence in his mind, trying to feel it. He got a sense of patience and waiting.

"Is someone there?" he asked, hoping, if someone was, they would be able to detect the question.

The only response was his phone ringing.

"MacGyver."

"Hello, Angus. How is your morning going?"

"Um. I...just woke up."

MacGyver felt a rush of amusement in his mind, at the same time Murdoc began chuckling.

"Murdoc? Are you in my head??"

"Mm, or you're in mine, or we're in each others'. Tell me, Angus, did you dream, as you were waking, that we were talking about your lack of trust in me?"

MacGyver went still, stunned.

"I'm going to take your shocked silence as a yes," Murdoc decided.

"H-how did you know it was my mind connected to yours?" MacGyver asked suspiciously.

"Because, my darling Boyscout, you're the only person I know who can so accurately and swiftly relive an entire day. Anyway, it just...felt like you. I'd have had to murder anyone else."

The tone was flippant, but MacGyver could sense real fear and anger behind the comment.

"I'm hoping to get you past that gut reaction, at least where my friends and I are concerned."

"Mm. Right now, I'm more concerned about how this happened. I do love you, but I'd like some mental privacy."

"Same. A lot of my thoughts are classified," MacGyver agreed, disappointed that no particular spike of emotion had accompanied the declaration of love.

"You feel disappointed. Were you hoping to live out some sci-fi fantasy? I admit, I'm not familiar with many stories involving mental bonds."

"No, it's nothing like that. I always thought mental bonds were pretty over-rated, for the most part. They're kinda lazy. If you love someone, make sure they know it. Show them. If you want to know what they're feeling, pay attention to them or ask. Communication as a process isn't that clumsy, if you work at it," MacGyver ranted, wincing when he realized how plaintive he sounded.

Murdoc stayed quiet for a moment, her mind projecting attention and protectiveness.

"Have I made sure you know it?"

"Well, it's pretty early for that. How sure are you of me?" MacGyver asked defensively.

Murdoc laughed and MacGyver felt relief at the wave of affection, of love, that poured into his mind.

"I'm absolutely sure of you, my darling boyscout," Murdoc promised, then sobered. "The advantage of a mental bond, of course, is there's no room for misunderstanding. I love you, absurd as that might seem."

"It's not absurd. It's just..."

"A dangerous chance for you to take," Murdoc finished for him, her mental tone one of pride, of all things.

"Yeah, that," MacGyver said, sighing.

"You're safe, Boyscout. I'll make sure of it. And, lazy or not, we do seem to have taken a needed shortcut here. So. I love you and you love me and we really need to get out of each other's heads."

MacGyver chuckled.

"Yeah. We don't actually know that no one else is listening in."

"Well, if they are, I'll cheerfully entertain them with my plans to dismember them."

"Please don't make me an accessory to murder."

"Hm. Good point. No murder thoughts, until we get this settled then. Absolutely nothing unusual happened to me yesterday. No new acquaintances, no surprises, no funky tasting dishes..."

"Cato."

"The clothing store?" Murdoc asked, confusion resurfacing.

"What?! No! The old man I met in the park."

"An old man tried to pick you up in the park? You're not that young," Murdoc teased.

"No, Murdoc," MacGyver sighed. "He just gave me an ear to bend...in fact, I told him about us. I told him about my doubts."

"You told a complete stranger in a public park that you're in love with an assassin and worried about not being loved back? MacGyver! He could be a terrorist looking to blackmail you!" Murdoc scolded, radiating anger and suspicion.

"Oh, come on! He's nothing of the sort," MacGyver scoffed, then spoke more gently. "I didn't mention you being an assassin or any other details, except our names."

"Do you think he's the sort to create a mental bond?" Murdoc asked, resigned.

"Possibly. He gave me his card and said it might be useful."

"Do not go there by yourself!" Murdoc ordered, afraid.

"Of course not," MacGyver said confidently. "You're coming with me."

"Oh," Murdoc said, hesitant. "And, I'm to be on my best behavior."

"Yeah. Is that going to be a problem?" MacGyver asked, wondering if he was about to learn what a lie felt like.

Murdoc didn't bother lying.

"Well, that depends on his motive and if he can remove this."

"I don't see how it could benefit him, at all."

"Well, obviously, it does."

"Maybe, he just felt sorry for me. Kinda like when you do hits for free, but with less bloodshed."

"Okay, point," Murdoc conceded. "I'll be over there in a little while. I need to eat first."

"Me, too. I'm not even dressed."

"I know," Murdoc purred, "and I really hate that that has to change."

"Me, too, but we have work to do. I'll see you, when you get here."

9:15 A.M.

Cato's place of business was as colorful and full of weird trinkets as a junk shop in a movie. Cato, however, had everything clean, well-organized, and clearly labeled. Cato himself was kneeling by some open boxes, placing books on a shelf.

"Cato," MacGyver greeted.

"Ah. You're here rather sooner than I expected. I thought you would want more time to explore."

"My mind is messy enough, without letting even my lover play around in it," Murdoc said, her voice light, but with a razor's edge.

"You are Ms. Murdoc. Or, is it Murdoc Something?"

"I think it's like Prince. Just the single name," MacGyver said, smirking, ignoring Murdoc's burst of amused indignation.

"How did you do this to us?" Murdoc asked. "I've never even met you before!"

"I had your true names."

"Murdoc is not my true name," she argued, wryly.

"Your legal name is almost never your true name. A chosen one almost always is," Cato disagreed, grinning. "I wrote the names down and performed a very precise and safe spell."

"Why?"

"Because, I had the power to help him and I believe, if you have the power to help someone, then you have the responsibility to do it."

"I bet you're fun at parties."

"I am actually. I mix wonderful drinks, ordinary ones, and can play a very mean guitar. Though, I leave singing to others."

"Do you do parlor tricks?" Murdoc asked, a bit meanly. "I know a particular one I'd like to see you do!"

"Murdoc," MacGyver chided. "Cato, I appreciate you helping me. But, I can't have Murdoc constantly in my head. We both need privacy."

"Of course. I never meant this to be permanent," Cato assured him. "Come into the back."

They followed him and Cato took them to a small lounge area. Unlocking a cabinet, he removed a small, tin box. Murmuring a few soft phrases, Cato removed two slips of paper from the box. Quietly, he handed one to Murdoc and one to MacGyver.

They found themselves alone in their own heads.

"Those have been used to perform magic on you, so I suggest you destroy them. You can do so safely."

Murdoc pulled out a lighter and burned her paper, then grabbed MacGyver's and burned that, too.

"You really should have asked for permission, before doing this," MacGyver scolded.

"I did. I asked, if you would like my help. I couldn't be specific, because I hadn't thought of anything yet."

"Well, from now on, figure that out, then ask permission," MacGyver ordered firmly.

Cato considered that, then nodded.

"You're right. We old people tend to be presumptive, even when we don't mean to be. I apologize."

"We forgive you, especially since it did work," MacGyver said, smiling at him.

"And, since you were wise enough to remove it sooner rather than later," Murdoc added, her grin sharper than MacGyver's open expression.

MacGyver rolled his eyes and grabbed Murdoc's hand.

"Yeah. Aaand, we'll be going now. Good-bye, Cato, and thank you."

"Good-bye. Feel free to drop in, any time."

MacGyver got Murdoc out onto the sidewalk, surprised, but pleased, when Murdoc plastered herself against MacGyver's side.

"I miss it. You have such a pretty mind."

MacGyver laughed.

"What I have is the day off," he corrected. "Let's go take advantage of that."

"That's not all I plan on taking advantage of," Murdoc promised.

"Exactly."

comments

macgver fics to do list

Thu, 15 Aug 2019 17:25:54 GMT

V fusion -- Murdoc as V who "adopted" Cassian

Murdoc and Bozer sharing a hospital room

Crossover with Aladdin Finding Jafar's lamp Murdoc/Riley

Crossover comedy with OG MacGyver

Murdoc and Mac as brothers

comments

prison macdoc

Fri, 26 Jul 2019 16:36:17 GMT

April 12th, 2019. 3 P.M.

MacGyver woke up, her head aching. She searched her memory, remembering. Ah. She'd been hit in the head with a rifle butt. That explained the searing pain. Looking around, she saw the row of bars that formed one of the walls. Mac sat up on the hard bunk that formed her bed.

"You are awake. Good!" a voice boomed, making MacGyver wince.

She turned to find herself staring at a man in a guard's uniform. The man entered the cell, a small square of folded cloth in one hand.

"Who are you?" MacGyver grated out.

"I'm the warden of this prison," the man announced. "My name is Donato Gallo, but you will address me as sir at all times."

"Okay. Sir. What am I doing here?"

"Well, officially, you have been convicted of smuggling. Unofficially, you showed up uninvited to a private warehouse. The owner of the warehouse is friends with a certain judge, who, of course, has friends among the police. All together, enough evidence was presented to get you a sentence of twenty years...should you live that long."

"I take it no one knows where I am?"

"No one who cares to help you, no."

"Desi's going to be pissed off at me. And you."

"Desi will have to find me, first. It's unlikely. So! It's time for you to go to your new home, Ms. MacGyver."

"How did you know my name?"

"Oh, the Rana cartel knows people who know people...you know how this works. Now, get up!" the warden commanded harshly.

MacGyver struggled to her feet, noticing she'd been stripped down to her t-shirt and boxers. The warden tossed her a prison uniform and watched as MacGyver struggled into the light gray outfit. Once dressed, MacGyver was handed a thin pillow, a sheet, and a threadbare blanket. The warden ushered her out of the holding cell. A short walk later and they passed through a pair of electric, steel doors, into the outside.

MacGyver looked around, seeing rows of barracks. Nearby was a work area, including clotheslines. A water pump stood outside every third barracks. A small guardhouse stood to the far right of the barracks. Everything MacGyver saw was plain, but sturdy.

"There you are. Your new home. Now, where should I place you? Hmmm?"

Peeking around him at the barracks, MacGyver saw two or three men, standing in a group, in front of each one. Some were glaring, some smiling, but all of their eyes were bright with hatred.

"Gosh. How do I choose?"

"Gentlemen! Which of you would like to share space with the American federale?"

"Oh, I think any of us would be glad to entertain her," a tall man answered, chuckling.

"Why, have we met?"

"No. My name is Silvio," the tall prisoner said. "Don't worry, Agnes, we'll have plenty of time to get to know each other."

MacGyver started, frowning heavily at Silvio. Warden Gallo smirked.

"Oh, yes. I told them your name. You don't seem to like your choices, but there is one other place, where you won't have quite so many men paying attention to you. Prisoners! I've decided the lady shall share rooms with El Mal Lindo!"

A few moans of disappointment were swallowed by the eager cries and laughter of the majority.

"El Mal Lindo," one prisoner snickered and several others nodded, eagerly.

"Beautiful evil?" Mac asked, still using English. "Sounds like a contradiction in terms to me."

"Oh, El Mal Lindo is very special. I was forced to break one of his legs, to keep him from killing other prisoners. But, the cartel wants him alive. So, I sent someone in to set El Mal's leg. He killed that man, too."

"Uh-huh. Why not just execute me?"

"The cartel wants you alive. I don't know why. They might fear reprisals, publicity...or they might have some use for you. But, they'll understand, if El Mal kills you."

"How long has El Mal been in there?"

"Two days. Some of the prisoners have pushed food and water into him on a board."

"Why?"

"He frightens them."

"So, where is this El Mal Lindo?"

"In there," Gallo said, gesturing.

"The guardhouse?"

"Oh, it's not a guardhouse. It used to be a storage area, but we moved the supplies to other areas and put in a couple of bunks. El Mal is one of the worst, but he's not the craziest prisoner we've ever had here."

"Go in, Agnes!" a third prisoner taunted, as he and some of the men from the doorway came closer, hovering in a semi-circle behind her.

"Right. Fine," Agnes agreed.

"Goodbye, Ms. MacGyver," Gallo mocked, turning and walking back to his office.

MacGyver ignored him, musing on what she was likely to find inside. What sort of man could kill while nursing a broken leg? And, why kill the man sent to set that leg? MacGyver approached the guardhouse, trying to think of an approach that wouldn't get her killed. Since the man's leg was broken, keeping her distance seemed a good idea. MacGyver could always outrun him.

The prisoners waited, eagerly, as MacGyver entered the guardhouse. Bets were placed on how long the federale would last. Most agreed that she would be dead sooner, rather than later. Only a minute after MacGyver entered the building, long peals of laughter could be heard. Many of the men shuddered.

What was El Mal Lindo doing to the federale to cause such delight?

MacGyver stunned them, by storming out of the building a minute later, a bucket in her hand. She went to one of the water pumps and began filling the bucket. El Mal Lindo was still laughing. The laughter only stopped, when MacGyver stood in the doorway of the guardhouse and tossed the contents of the water bucket inside. The prisoners froze, a swelling murmur going through them. Turning, MacGyver went and filled the bucket again, before heading back to the warehouse.

Inside, Macgyver found Murdoc rubbing the water off of himself with one of his own bedsheets. Two days without a shower had left him sweaty and dirty. A full shower could wait, but he needed to be at least somewhat clean, for what came next.

"Why did you kill the guy sent to set your leg?" MacGyver demanded, angrily.

"He wasn't a doctor and he didn't seem very bright. For instance, I told him to keep his hands off of me and he didn't listen."

"A fatal mistake," MacGyver agreed, then waved at a pile of medical equipment, including a portable x-ray machine, sitting on one of the room's beds. "He had plenty of equipment. I'm surprised you didn't set the leg yourself."

"Oddly enough, first aid training isn't a big priority for assassins," Murdoc said, cheerfully, shrugging. "I can sew a bullet wound, but that's about it."

MacGyver sighed.

"Are you going to let me do it?"

"Sure. You wouldn't offer, if you didn't know how."

"Lucky me."

MacGyver examined the x-ray machine, quickly figuring out how it worked. He used it to examine Murdoc's leg, finding the fibula had a large, horizontal crack.

"Well, your fibula is cracked, but still in one piece. I think a splint and you keeping your weight off will be sufficient."

"Hurts like hell," Murdoc admitted, sounding amused.

"Yeah, and getting it bound isn't going to help. Sorry," MacGyver told him, with a surprising amount of sincerity.

The prisoners were still waiting patiently, expecting El Mal to throw a corpse outside. Instead, they heard a brief scream of pain, followed by silence. They exchanged stunned looks. That hadn't sounded like the federale. Their viewing ended, when Murdoc hobbled out of the guardhouse, his leg properly splinted, using a light aluminum crutch and heading for the showers. MacGyver came out a few moments later.

"I'm still alive," she told them, dryly.

"El Mal seems happy to see you," Silvio said warily.

"His name's Murdoc," MacGyver told him, irritated.

"Murdoc or El Mal, he seems to like you, either way."

"I hadn't noticed," MacGyver said, shortly.

"You're alive," Silvio said mildly.

"For now," MacGyver agreed grimly. "Why did the guards leave all that equipment and stuff there for two days?"

"I'm sure they planned on trying again, once El Mal was a bit weaker."

"Huh. They don't know Murdoc," MacGyver observed, dryly, giving Silvio a slight nod, before turning and walking away.

MacGyver gave herself a tour of the prison, the parts she could access. She was surprised to find a large vegetable garden in a corner of the complex, behind the barracks. A low-roofed building in the work area held rows of washing machines and dryers. She couldn't get close to the areas with the watchtowers. The fences around the complex were, of course, high, with barbed wire around the top. A huge gate, large enough to drive through, stood on the west side, with thick doors. Sighing, MacGyver began walking back to the guardhouse. Her head was still painful and some sleep sounded good.

As she was passing the barracks, the beefy guy who had called her gringo stepped in front of her, a nasty smirk on his lips.

"Can I help you?" MacGyver said sarcastically.

"I don't like federales. Particularly ones from the U.S."

"I'm sure they don't like you, either."

"I really was hoping El Mal would kill you. But. If he doesn't want to, well. The rest of us can just have our own fun, yes?"

MacGyver loosened her stance, preparing to fight. She was ready when the other man took a powerful swing at her jaw. Ducking back, MacGyver prepared to go on the offensive, until Murdoc's crutch came swinging up between the beefy man's leg, crashing into his groin. The beefy man howled, falling to his knees and cupping himself.

"Play nice, Rodrigo. The girlscout is a friend of mine," Murdoc warned, lightly.

"She's a federale," Rodrigo protested.

"Mmhm," Murdoc agreed. "One of the best. Now, go crawl away."

"Thanks," MacGyver said, almost sullenly, walking away, before Murdoc could respond.

Murdoc followed, keeping silent, until they were in the privacy of the guardhouse.

"You're actually welcome, by the way."

"Am I? That's new," MacGyver said, crawling onto her bed. "Anyway, you owed me for setting your leg."

"Can we talk, before you take a nap?"

"About?" MacGyver sighed, sitting back up.

"We should come to an arrangement."

"Why?"

"We need each other."

"I don't need you, Murdoc. I bet most people here are willing to kill me. You've become a bit redundant."

"Hah, cute!" Murdoc retorted, giving a small nod of respect. "Come on, Agnes! We're both better off helping each other, rather than squabbling. I'll watch your back, you'll watch mine...and when you do escape, you'll take me with you."

Sighing, MacGyver squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ward off, for a few seconds, her current reality. But, Murdoc was right. The odds of making allies here were...slim. She had few resources and nothing she was willing to offer these desperate, violent men. She needed at least one ally, if she was going to survive.

"Fine, but you'll just be trading one prison for another," MacGyver warned.

"Of course, Agnes," Murdoc agreed, his mild expression almost hiding the slight trace of sarcasm in his voice.

"Great. I'm sleeping now. If you're going to murder someone, do it quietly."

Murdoc just chuckled. He opened the door and placed the bent tines of half of a fork into the strike plate of the doorknob. Closing the door, he slipped the handle half of the fork through the straight part of the tines, effectively locking the door.

MacGyver woke to a warm hand on her shoulder, shaking her lightly. Starting, she opened her eyes to find Murdoc looming over her. Well. It beat being slapped awake. MacGyver was relieved, when Murdoc backed up a bit, smiling down at her.

"Wakey-wakey, Agnes. It's grub time! Though, grub is a bit unfair. The food here isn't actually bad. Luis is a fairly good cook."

"Okay, I'm up," MacGyver said, standing up, which drew her closer to Murdoc, who didn't move back. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all," Murdoc assured her, happily.

MacGyver rolled her eyes and shook her head. Whatever. She refused to waste time trying to figure out Murdoc's personal brand of psychosis. Something of her thoughts must have been clear to him, because he gave a satisfied chuckle.

"Hurry, Agnes. I'm hungry."

"Yeah, yeah," MacGyver said, turning to the door.

She stopped, seeing the makeshift lock. Well. She had to give Murdoc credit for competence. She removed the lock, handing the fork pieces to Murdoc, who hid them on his person. They walked to the canteen. MacGyver was painfully aware of the stares, most of them openly hostile, that were directed at both her and Murdoc.

"Hey, Lindo! When did you sell out to the federales?" a voice barked out from behind them, as they got in line for food.

"I'm an assassin, Diego. I don't have loyalties," Murdoc corrected, rolling his eyes.

"When did the federales start hiring assassins?" another man asked, with casual humor.

"Miguel. How stupid are you?" Silvio scorned. "The federales have always done that!"

"No, they have assassins," Miguel argued. "They don't hire from outside."

"Miguel has a point," Murdoc said to MacGyver, with a shrug.

MacGyver just rolled her eyes, ignoring the conversation.

"Relax, girlscout. You're going to need to blend in, at least a little. It won't hurt you to be a little chatty."

"I don't think making small talk is going to help me, here."

"Well, you'd be surprised."

"That's not the advice Riley gave me, when I went undercover in a prison."

"Dear Riley was in a supermax, with hundreds of prisoners. This is different. It's the difference between surviving in a city and a small town. I'm not saying be friendly, but interact."

MacGyver considered that, then nodded. Despite his advice, Murdoc led them to an empty table, ignoring the other inmates.

"How hard is this place to escape?"

"Well, it isn't Alcatraz, but it's not badly managed, either. There's the usual gates, guards, at least six on duty at all times, then there are patrols on the outside, with dogs. It doesn't help that we're miles away from the nearest town."

"How many miles?"

"Fifty and that's through woods in most directions."

"How did you even end up here? All of Phoenix hasn't managed to recapture you."

"Well, to be honest...I wanted to get caught."

MacGyver started, then glared.

"You're here to kill someone. Who?"

"His name was Paolo and I'm afraid you're far too late."

"What do you need me for, then? You didn't come in here without an escape plan...did you?"

"I did not, but my plan required assistance."

"That was trusting of you."

"Well, my helper was someone I'd worked with before. Sadly, he got shot dead, in his preparations for getting me out."

"Okay, then," MacGyver responded, rolling her eyes.

Criminals, honestly.

MacGyver looked up to find Murdoc just grinning at her, his food apparently forgotten. MacGyver gave an unimpressed stare back, for a few moments, but that didn't seem to impress Murdoc at all.

"What?" MacGyver demanded.

"You're so cute, when you're annoyed. That disbelieving eye roll is just the most adorable thing. Honestly, MacGyver, it makes teasing you hard to resist."

"I don't think you try very hard."

"To resist teasing you? No. No, I don't," Murdoc agreed, chuckling.

"Murdoc."

"Hmm?"

"Eat."

April 14th. 5 A.M.

MacGyver woke to the piercing shrieks of an electric horn.

"Agnes," Murdoc prodded, pulling himself out of the bed. "Come on. Up and at 'em. We have one hour to get dressed and eat, before work."

MacGyver didn't argue, but pulled on her clothes. She wondered if she would need to help Murdoc, but he managed to get into his clothes on his own. They went as swiftly as Murdoc could manage to the canteen. Breakfast was a rapid affair, conducted with a sense of urgency. Toast, potatoes, eggs, and ham were rapidly consumed. MacGyver noticed everyone, including Murdoc, was drinking multiple cups of water and followed suit, wondering why it was apparently needed.

Breakfast ended when the horn sounded again. Everyone disposed of their plates and filed outside, heading for buses that were driving in from the outside gate.

"Where are we going?" MacGyver asked, as they stood in line to board.

"A coffee plantation," Murdoc answered. "We get to spend the next ten hours earning our keep."

"Sounds great," MacGyver quipped.

Standing in line, the prisoners were shackled together in pairs, then walked together onto a bus. As they rumbled down a dirt road, MacGyver studied the road and the surrounding landscape. She analyzed the route, trying to discover any possible escape route.

"Eyes forward, prisoner," an armed guard at the front barked.

"Don't fret, girlscout," Murdoc murmured, sounding amused.

"I'm not," MacGyver said, calmly.

"Quiet!" another guard warned.

The buses stopped at the edge of a plantation, with neat rows of trees. The prisoners exited the buses and each one was handed a large, five-gallon basket.

"You know the rules. Work hard and keep your interactions to a minimum. Your quota is a full basket of ripe berries only! Get to work."

Murdoc and MacGyver were herded towards the second row of trees. MacGyver noted with sour amusement that all of the berries were ripe.

"Pick away. We're at the end of the season. Don't worry about bruising the fruit. Just gather them up and drop them in. Simple, but boring."

"How long have you been here?"

"Almost two months."

"These trees provide pretty good cover."

"Sure, but there are obstacles. Both prison guards and plantation security, including dogs, patrol the grounds in shifting patterns. We're not given second chances, either. Escaping prisoners are shot, not recaptured. And, we're a long way from anyplace secure. The plantation owner, Raul, owns almost all of the land around here."

"Well, if it was easy, you wouldn't be here," MacGyver sighed.

"I love it, when you compliment me," Murdoc said, smugly.

"Don't let it go to your head. You're still a criminal who needs to be in jail."

Murdoc just chuckled, ending the conversation, when he saw a guard coming by, glaring at them. They worked silently and the work was as boring as Murdoc had promised. MacGyver entertained herself by imagining tools she could make to speed up the work. Ultimately, though, that proved frustrating. She would love to build something, but she had nothing to build with. The only thing she had was a bucket and the chain connecting his ankles together and connecting him to Murdoc.

"How's your singing voice?"

MacGyver started, looking up at Murdoc, bewildered.

"My singing voice?"

"Yeah."

"Um. I don't make people's ears bleed, but I wouldn't call it one of my talents," MacGyver said, shrugging.

"Sing with me," Murdoc instructed. "Come on, Agnes! The whole 'whistle while you work' thing does have some merit."

"No whistling!" MacGyver retorted, sharply, earning a sarcastic grin from Murdoc.

"You don't like whistling? Hm. Fine, fine, we'll stick to singing," Murdoc assured him blandly.

Singing apparently was one of Murdoc's talents. His voice was smooth and pleasant. MacGyver wasn't sure if she should be surprised or not, that Murdoc chose to sing "Whistle While You Work." She definitely wasn't surprised that Murdoc broke his word, whistling merrily in the appropriate places. MacGyver just shook her head, singing along.

"Aw, see now, you have a nice voice. You just need practice," Murdoc praised, smirking.

"Thanks," MacGyver said dryly.

She hated it, when Murdoc was right, even just about singing. Agreeing with the sociopath felt unnatural and wrong, like something MacGyver should fight against. She almost felt she should argue with Murdoc, even if he claimed two plus two equals four. Still singing along, MacGyver amused herself by coming up with wild equations where she could twist it, so two plus two represented other things. She only felt a bit guilty, that it was deliberately bad math. She abandoned the line of thought, when Murdoc switched songs.

"Wise men say, only fools rush in..." Murdoc crooned, softly.

MacGyver blinked, too surprised to join in. "Can't Help Falling In Love?" Really? She waited for an edge of sarcasm to appear in the sociopath's voice, but Murdoc sang the song simply and easily. MacGyver went back to picking berries, finding it a bit tempting to stop and stare at Murdoc. Murdoc noticed, arching an eyebrow at MacGyver, but not stopping the song.

"What? You're not in the mood for Elvis?" Murdoc asked, annoyed, once he finished.

"I'm surprised you even like Elvis," MacGyver retorted.

"Who doesn't like Elvis?" Murdoc asked, seeming genuinely mystified.

"I don't know. There has to be someone. Death metal fans?"

"Nope. Music haters, maybe."

"Maybe. I just thought you would disdain anything sentimental."

"I don't disdain emotions, Agnes. Mine are just duller and harder to engage than most people's."

"Okay. Fine. Sorry."

"What sort of music did you expect me to like? Murder ballads?" Murdoc scoffed.

"Do you like murder ballads?"

"Well. Not exclusively. I like anything that's done well. I love art."

"Shut up down there!" a guard called from the head of their row.

As if in defiance of MacGyver's expectations, Murdoc began singing again.

"Close every door to me, Hide all the world from me..."

MacGyver shook her head, silently granting Murdoc his point, even as her own uneasiness grew. MacGyver grimaced, realizing she couldn't avoid learning more about Murdoc. Like it or not, he would be forced to see the man behind the murderer. Part of MacGyver was curious and intrigued at the prospect, but mostly she just felt wary. She couldn't allow greater knowledge of Murdoc's humanity to cloud her judgment. Murdoc was a danger, not only to others, but to MacGyver herself. A temporary truce didn't change that.

April 15th. 10:16 P.M.

MacGyver was only half asleep and woke up, when Murdoc stopped giving the occasional hiss of pain and started swearing, panting a bit.

"What's wrong?" MacGyver asked, wondering if Murdoc had bumped his leg.

"Have you ever tried sleeping with a broken leg?" Murdoc snapped, glaring over at his bunkmate.

"Yeah. I've had one twice," MacGyver admitted, getting up, glad to have a problem she could actually fix. "Good thing it's warm out. Can you sleep without a blanket?"

"If I have to."

MacGyver gave a wry smile and gathered up his and Murdoc's blankets. She folded the first up six times, then laid it horizontally across the lower part of Murdoc's bed. The other blanket was folded four times and laid vertically across the first blanket, then folded the end closest to Murdoc up over the bump.

"Lay down so your hamstring is resting on the blanket closest to you and your leg is elevated," MacGyver instructed.

Sulking, Murdoc obeyed. He sighed, laying back against his pillow.

"Isn't sleeping on your back supposed to be bad for you?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Yeah, but this is temporary. It's harder to elevate your leg comfortably, if you're on your side."

"Hm, true," Murdoc admitted, his tone growing sleepy.

"You're welcome."

"Mm. I'm no use to you, if I'm half asleep and in constant pain."

"If you want to believe that, I can't stop you," MacGyver said, shaking her head. "Truth is, though, I don't actually want you in pain. Evil or not, you're still a person."

"And you don't want to see anyone die today," Murdoc quoted, wryly.

"No, I don't," MacGyver agreed. "Now, go to sleep."

MacGyver climbed back into her own bed, more than ready to sleep, herself. He shut his eyes, enjoying the silence. He was just barely awake enough to hear, when Murdoc whispered to him again.

"Thanks, girlscout."

April 20th. 6 P.M.

"Murdoc, you're insane," MacGyver scoffed, taking a bite of the baked chicken they'd been fed for dinner.

"You keep saying that. I don't disagree," Murdoc assured her.

"Look. I'm not saying Loki isn't a sympathetic villain. He is! But, he's still a villain."

"Not in the last two movies," Murdoc countered.

"Okay, he was given a redemption arc. Sort of. Heroes don't get those. Villains do!"

"I'm not calling him a hero, just more...neutral. And, it wasn't redemption, so much as family reconciliation. He didn't change so much as grow up. A little."

"Murdoc. He was the main villain of the first Avengers movie. Leading an invasion is not neutral behavior!"

"Sure, but that was a one-time thing. His behavior was villainous, if you consider politics through conquering villainous. Still, one single act doesn't define a person."

"Yes, I do, and it wasn't a single act. Stressed or not, Loki tried to commit genocide in the first Thor movie. So, that's two instances of villainous behavior."

"Temporary insanity."

"Not so temporary, actually," MacGyver countered dryly. "Is that the appeal? You have lunacy in common?"

"Nah, I just think Tom Hiddleston is hot," Murdoc said, smirking.

MacGyver blinked, caught off guard. She gave a huff of laughter, shaking her head.

"You said you find humans repulsive."

Murdoc went still, blinking and bemused. He paused thoughtfully, before replying.

"Did I actually say that?" he wondered.

"Uh, yeah. When you kidnapped me and told me that lie about Cassian's mom."

"Oh. Hm. Well, I tend to feed you the sort of things you expect from me."

"Why not be honest?"

"Because, girlscout, you still wouldn't believe me and it wouldn't be as much fun."

"Whatever."

"You don't think Loki is attractive?" Murdoc teased.

"Bruce Banner's more my type," MacGyver shot back.

"You just want inside his brain," Murdoc scoffed.

"He has a lot of brain to get inside of," MacGyver agreed, easily.

"Girlscout."

"Lunatic."

"Hah."

April 27th 2 P.M.

MacGyver hauled a basket of wet sheets from the laundry to the waiting clotheslines. She didn't know why they were allowed washing machines, but not dryers, not that it mattered. She dragged a sheet out of the basket and carefully draped it over the waiting clothesline. They weren't allowed clothes pins, either, which was even more disappointing. MacGyver almost envied Murdoc, who was in charge of loading the washing machines. MacGyver wasn't sure if he'd been granted that position or simply taken it.

A heavy blow between her shoulder blades sent MacGyver sprawling, knocking over her basket. She had the absurd thought that Murdoc would be irritated, if he had to redo a load. Looking up, MacGyver saw Rodrigo and two inmates she didn't know looming over her. Rodrigo smiled, his lips twisted in evil joy. The other two just glared.

"Prison is a place of punishment, federale," Rodrigo spat. "And, I owe you some payback. These are Manuel and Erik. They hate federales almost as much as I do. "

MacGyver rolled away, managing to get to her feet, before Rodrigo and his friends could close in on her. MacGyver darted away from the clothesline, not wanting to lose sight of his opponents amongst the hanging laundry. Rodrigo stormed towards MacGyver, who managed to dodge past him, only to find herself facing the other two. A hard fist pounded into MacGyver's cheek, sending her reeling. The other prisoners formed a circle around them, cheering them on, not caring who won.

MacGyver pushed away her forming panic. Her cheek ached, an omen of pain to come. Rodrigo closed in on her, herding her towards the others. MacGyver felt strong arms grab her, pinning her arms. She struggled, almost slipping loose, until Rodrigo drove a hard fist into her gut. Erik managed to get a more secure grip on MacGyver, grabbing her hair and pulling back her head.

"Scream, federale. It's been a while, since we had such pretty, new meat."

Rodrigo laughed, stepping forward to deliver another blow. Instead, a sharp thunk sent him reeling to the ground.

"Rodrigo, Rodrigo," Murdoc scolded, with mock gentleness, his crutch held tightly in his hands. "You should've listened."

Murdoc swung the armrest of his crutch, slamming the end into Rodrigo's temple. Rodrigo screamed, curling in on himself, allowing Murdoc to drive the foot of his good leg into Rodrigo's kidney.

"If you kill him, the guards might break your other leg," Silvio called out, laughing.

"They might," Murdoc agreed, mildly, shrugging.

"We'll spare them the trouble," Manuel boasted, nodding at Erik, who nodded back, but grimly.

They tried to rush Murdoc, but he ignored the spikes of pain in his leg, dodging nimbly. Released, MacGyver drove herself into Erik, sending him sprawling. MacGyver pinned him, with ruthless efficiency, driving her fist into Erik's nose. Her aim was a bit sloppy from panic and anger and one of his blows landed directly between Erik's eyes, stunning him. Realizing his crew was finished, Manuel raised his hands in defeat, facing Murdoc's cheerful grin with horror.

"Murdoc. Don't," MacGyver ordered, standing.

"Don't what?" Murdoc asked, innocently, placing his crutch back under his arm and taking his weight off of his leg.

"Pretty much anything," MacGyver said dryly.

"You never want me to have any fun," Murdoc complained.

The other inmates whispered, stunned at the turn of events. Everyone backed off, going back to their tasks, ignoring the fallen trio. MacGyver gave a huff, rolling her eyes, looking around for her basket.

"Nevermind the laundry, Agnes," Murdoc said, warily. "I'm afraid we're not out of trouble yet."

MacGyver looked up and saw a couple of guards approaching.

"Go back inside. You can't help me now," MacGyver urged.

"Just follow orders and don't try to argue," Murdoc advised. "You won't sway them. It might help."

MacGyver nodded, watching Murdoc go back in. The guards came up to her, one of them grabbing her arms.

"Leave it to a federale to cause trouble," the taller one spat. "I think you need a time out."

April 28th. 7 A.M.

MacGyver leaned against the pole she was chained to. The guards had placed her in a far corner of the camp, that was used for punishing prisoners. Her hands were chained in front of her and her ankles were chained closely together. She could both sit and lay down, though not very comfortably. There wasn't enough chain for her to stand up straight.

MacGyver tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore her thirst and hunger. She'd been given a cupful of water last night, but no food. The second cup of water she'd been given a couple of hours ago was probably all they planned to give her for breakfast.

"You look miserable," Murdoc commented, startling MacGyver out of her thoughts.

"I've had better days," MacGyver agreed wearily.

Murdoc set a tray of food on MacGyver's lap, then sat down close to her.

"Here. This should help. I convinced the servers to give me Rodrigo's breakfast."

"I was told Rodrigo's in the infirmary. Won't they feed him there?"

"Probably. Go on, Agnes. Eat."

"Thanks," MacGyver said, obeying.

They sat for a bit in silence, as MacGyver ate. She wasn't sure, if she should be surprised or not, that Murdoc stayed. They'd spent the past two weeks working and eating together. They'd talked, but mostly only to share information and to find things to argue about. Looking back, MacGyver was grateful for even that much. Challenging Murdoc's twisted thinking had provided much-needed mental stimulation.

"Why did Helman take you with him, when he escaped the black site?"

"He planned to kill me, once we were clear. He didn't want to do it there, since the guards would have tightened his security, after. I just managed to get away."

"Ironic. We put him in there to give you something to focus on, other than making escape plans."

"I thought it was punishment."

"Well, we were pretty pissed off. No matter where we put you, you kill."

"Brilliant as you are, you're not very good at sociopath management, Agnes."

"Oh? Got any tips for me?" MacGyver asked, feeling surprisingly amused.

"We're attention whores," Murdoc claimed, shrugging. "I didn't plan on escaping, when I turned myself in. You ignored me. My best intentions didn't extend to being essentially buried alive."

"So, if I had visited you and gotten help from you, you would have stayed put?" MacGyver scoffed.

"Maybe. You and I are alike, MacGyver. We need our minds stimulated to survive."

"What about Cassian? Did you plan on taking him on the run again?"

"No, not at all. I thought I would find a way to pay him regular visits. I just hadn't figured out how."

"How long do they usually keep people out here?" MacGyver asked, awkwardly changing the subject.

"I've never seen anyone out here more than three days. Normally, you'd get only enough water to keep you alive. Well, unless it rains."

"Normally."

"The guards really don't like you. You're not a criminal and not one of them. You're an American agent."

"So I need to get in good with the guards?"

Murdoc paused, then burst into laughter.

"Oh, Agnes. You're so clever, but so naive. How do you plan to do that?"

"I don't know. Fix something? Help them out somehow? I thought you might suggest something."

"I suggest you abandon the idea. It'd most likely backfire and make the inmates resent you even more. Just work on getting us out of here."

"Yeah, great idea. What I need is a way to get in contact with the Phoenix. Is there any way, other than getting in trouble, to get inside the warden's office?"

"No. He actually has very little contact with the prisoners and then it's always with us in a group."

"There has to be a black market. Can any of the inmates get me a cell phone?"

"And what would you give said inmate in return?"

"I don't know. What would that go for?"

"You'd probably have to bed or kill someone."

"Well, aren't you a bundle of sunshine," MacGyver observed sarcastically.

"Cell phones are highly contraband and amazingly difficult to get hold of," Murdoc reminded her, with equal sarcasm.

"Do you have one?" MacGyver asked suspiciously. "You said, if you killed someone..."

"No, MacGyver," Murdoc sighed. "Who would I call?"

"Someone you could pay to break us out?"

"If it worked that way, prison breaks would be a lot more common, Agnes. I suppose I could try to get one for you..."

"Yeah, no. Just don't," MacGyver said, sternly.

"Oh, don't worry. I'm actually not sure anyone here is that competent."

"Certainly not Rodrigo."

Murdoc laughed and MacGyver had to admit it was a pleasant sound, when no one was being hurt...or maybe she was just tired and grateful for the company. Murdoc was certainly keeping his end of their bargain. Bad as this punishment was, the beating she could have taken from Rodrigo and his men would have been much worse.

"How's your leg? You put a lot of weight on it, during the fight."

"It hurts, but that's life for you," Murdoc answered, glibly. "I might have set the healing back a day or two."

"Meaning a week or two," MacGyver retorted, feeling a pang of guilt.

"If you say so, girlscout. How about some music?" Murdoc suggested, pulling a small radio from his pocket.

MacGyver obligingly kept quiet, listening. Music drifted between them, a sole spot of beauty in the bleak space they shared.

May 5th. 6 A.M.

MacGyver walked away from the food line, heading for an empty table near the windows. She wondered why she bothered. The view of the prison was hardly inspiring. She was pondering the benefits of sunlight and almost collided with another prisoner. MacGyver tensed, expecting sharp words, possibly even an invitation to fight. Instead, the young prisoner, Carlos, MacGyver remembered, gulped a bit, backing away and giving MacGyver a slight nod.

MacGyver watched Carlos hurry away and frowned in confusion. Se changed directions and headed for the same table as Silvio and Miguel.

"Mind some more company?"

"Not at all. Sit down, MacGyver," Miguel encouraged.

"Thanks."

"What can we do for you, MacGyver?" Silvio asked, amused.

"Do you know why Carlos is acting funny?"

"He isn't."

"You don't find the way he backed off from me a bit odd? He's usually a fighter."

Silvio and Miguel both laughed.

"You are a strange woman. You either underestimate El Mal or yourself. Perhaps both," Silvio said, grinning.

"What do you mean?"

"You do understand El Mal is dangerous?"

"I probably understand that better than you do," MacGyver assured him drily.

"Yet, you control him."

"I what?!" MacGyver asked, incredulous.

"You tell him to be quiet and he stops talking. You tell him not to hurt Rodrigo and he doesn't. Do you know why?"

"Not really," MacGyver admitted. "We agreed to be allies in here, but..."

"But, he doesn't actually need you, especially once his leg heals."

"I'm not sure he needs me now."

"Exactly."

"Exactly what?" MacGyver pressed, bewildered.

"El Mal, for whatever reason, has chosen you. He defers to no one, not even the guards, but defers to you. If he doesn't need you, he must want you and he seems to respect you."

"Yeah, I wouldn't call it respect."

"But, I would and so would many others here. We won't risk you bringing El Mal down on us."

"What did he do, before I got here? Besides kill people. I mean, he's not the only murderer in this place."

"That's like comparing a child blowing a kazoo to a flute player in an orchestra," Miguel chided.

"What did El Mal do? He kept to himself, as much as possible. He ate, drank, and worked along with us, but apart. El Mal sang and daydreamed and walked around. He waited and, as you said, he killed. El Mal did not hold conversations or sit beside those being punished," Silvio answered.

"It's not like that," MacGyver protested, shaking her head and drawing more laughter from her tablemates.

"Yes, it is," Silvio promised her, smiling.

May 8th. 11 A.M.

MacGyver lounged on her bed, listening to the steady thump of rain on the roof.

"There has to be some work they need done, even with it raining so much," she complained to Murdoc, who was sitting on the floor, stretching.

"You want to be used as slave labor?" Murdoc retorted, amused.

"I want out of this room," MacGyver sighed, twisting a paperclip into a set of scales.

In a surprising display of kindness, Murdoc had provided MacGyver with a swiss army knife and a large supply of paperclips. MacGyver kept the presence of the knife well hidden, even from the other inmates, but she could use it freely in her room. Disposing of her paperclip sculptures might become a problem, if she didn't find something else to do.

"We could play cards," Murdoc suggested, lifting himself onto his own bed.

"You have cards?" MacGyver asked, surprised.

"Don't be so surprised," Murdoc scolded. "I get bored, too."

"You know, not everything I say to you is meant as a jibe," MacGyver told him pointedly, tucking her knife into her pillow, then standing.

She scooted their small table into a position between their beds, moving her bed close enough to sit on comfortably. Murdoc watched, amused, already shuffling his cards, which MacGyver noted were brand new.

"If you say so, Agnes," Murdoc soothed. "Egyptian Ratscrew or Golf?"

"You know, the name is actually Egyptian Rat's Crew, not Ratscrew."

"Neither makes sense and Ratscrew is more fun," Murdoc retorted, grinning. "Is that a yes or no to the game?"

"Yes," MacGyver said, wryly, sitting down on her bed across from Murdoc. "I get to deal."

"Ooo! Yes, sir," Murdoc laughed, handing over the cards.

MacGyver smirked, taking the cards and shuffling them, before dealing them out.

They played one round fairly rapidly. Both were highly competitive to the surprise of neither. By the end of the round, the backs of their hands were a light pink, from getting slapped, trying to claim the pile first. Murdoc won the first round, scooping up the pile with a twirl of his long fingers. Until now, MacGyver had forced away any curiosity about Murdoc, but finally gave in and asked.

"Do you really paint?"

Murdoc looked up, surprised into momentary silence, but then smiled.

"Yes and I really am a fan of Bob Ross."

"When did you start painting...and why?"

"I love art is why. I started shortly after I was introduced to Helman. He educated me in more than just killing. Ole Nick always thought the best assassins had to be more than thugs. He insisted that I be a gentleman assassin, educated and all that. Hm. He probably wasn't wrong."

"So, you what? Have a secret stash of paintings somewhere? Or do you just paint over the canvases, once you're done?"

"Stash is probably too strong a word. I don't have much time for painting, but I don't destroy my work, once I'm done with it."

"Huh."

"Why?"

"Just curious," MacGyver said, shrugging, not about to admit she'd been noticing the shape of Murdoc's hands.

"Do I get to be curious?"

"With all your spying, is there anything interesting you don't know?"

"Everything about you is interesting, Agnes."

"That sounds obsessive. You're not going to start trying to copy me, I hope."

Murdoc laughed, his shoulders shaking, sounding truly delighted.

"Me trying to be like you would be just as absurd as your attempts to be like me."

"Attempt. I only did that once."

"Twice. Once for the Norrises and once for the Architect."

"Yeah, okay, twice," MacGyver conceded, as Murdoc began dealing out cards for a second round.

"I heard a rumor that you actually got kicked out of the girlscouts," Murdoc said, with a hint of disbelief. "True or false?"

"True and I suppose you want to know why."

"I absolutely want to know why."

"Okay, fine," MacGyver said, sighing, throwing a card onto the pile. "I accidentally broke another kid's arm."

"Oh! A MacGyver contraption backfired?"

"Nooo, it was just...a bit more powerful than I anticipated. The kid was a bully and I got tired of him picking on the smaller kids...including me. So, I rigged up a hammock with some pulleys and bungee cords. I meant for it to swing into him hard enough to knock him to the ground..."

"And? Instead?" Murdoc prodded, incredulous, slapping and winning the pile.

"It sent him flying into a tree," MacGyver admitted, reluctantly. "He tried to protect his head, by throwing up his arm...and his arm broke. Fortunately, it was a clean break, but...yeah. They tossed me out and I didn't blame them."

"You felt guilty," Murdoc concluded.

"Of course I did!" MacGyver snapped, frowning.

"You still feel guilty!" Murdoc amended, incredulously.

"Yeah, I mean, it's a bad memory for me."

"Wow."

MacGyver shook her head, not knowing what to make of Murdoc's tone. As usual, Murdoc sounded impressed and pleased, but disbelief and amusement were there, too.

"You wouldn't have cared, at all? Even at that age?"

"I don't know. Maybe a little. Did he stop?"

"I only knew him through the Scouts. I never saw him again."

"Hm. No. I don't think I would have felt bad. If he stopped, well, then the broken arm accomplished something. If not, then he was asking for it."

"No one deserves to have a broken arm, Murdoc," MacGyver said, sighing. "Remember, he was a little kid, about nine! He wasn't a terrorist or something."

"Hm, point," Murdoc conceded, reluctantly. "I wasn't actually violent, until I hit my teens."

"Except towards spiders and pigeons, apparently."

"Hmmm?" Murdoc asked, then laughed. "Oh! Well, I lied about the pigeons and the spiders have it coming."

"You're an arachnophobe?"

"No. A phobia is an irrational fear and hatred of something. I have good reasons for despising spiders. Ever been bit by a black widow?"

"Fortunately, no."

"Yeah, five-year-old me was not happy about it."

"Ouch. So, why make up the story about the pigeons?"

"I told you. I thought Jack would like it. He'd been so grumpy all day," Murdoc reminded MacGyver, rolling his eyes.

"You thought Jack would like hearing about you killing animals?"

"He likes explosions!" Murdoc snapped, slapping at the pile and hitting MacGyver's hand.

"Explosions are only fun, when innocent people and animals aren't hurt by them," MacGyver explained, claiming the pile.

"Fine! Lesson learned," Murdoc said, sulking. "I was trying to cheer him up."

"Okay, fine," MacGyver soothed, shrugging.

"Are you having any luck figuring out how to get us out of here?"

"Yeah. The woods actually work in our favor. The guards are mid-level criminals. Only three seem the mercenary types. So, we should be able to lose them, once we hit the woods. Fortunately, our prison uniforms are made of polyester and you got me a knife. We'll survive. All we need is a way to get from here to the woods."

"What happened to that x-ray machine?" Murdoc wondered, looking around.

"I think the guards confiscated it, when we went to supper."

"You must really be jonesing for some good tech."

"It would certainly help. Working would help, too. That, at least, got us outside. As it is, I'm waiting for an opportunity."

"We might have to make an opportunity."

"We might, but I want this done with no killing, Murdoc," MacGyver warned.

"Of course, you do," Murdoc sighed. "Just tell me you're making progress."

"I am," MacGyver assured him. "Look the more I know about this place, the better chance I have of making a plan that will work. We can't afford for it to backfire on us."

"I know the risks."

"Then, just be patient and let me do this."

"Well, I hope you enjoy card games and being chatty, then, girlscout. I really doubt this rain is going to let up any time soon."

"Do you want to switch to poker?"

Murdoc chuckled, shrugging.

"Sure, Agnes. Poker sounds good."

May 17th. 1:30 P.M.

MacGyver and Murdoc walked around the prison compound, enjoying the rare day of sunshine. Large, fluffy clouds were hovering on the horizon and the scent of rain still filled the air. That night or tomorrow would undoubtedly bring more rain and another day spent indoors, but, for now, they could enjoy the open air.

"You really don't like being indoors much, do you?" Murdoc asked.

"No, I don't really. I'd rather be outside, even when I'm reading or relaxing."

"Yeah," Murdoc surprisingly agreed, stopping to get off of his crutches and stretch.

MacGyver couldn't help looking disapprovingly at the weight Murdoc was placing on his injured leg.

"Quit," Murdoc ordered dryly. "It's been five weeks. I'm almost entirely healed."

"Bull," MacGyver said, agreeably, grinning at him. "You would be almost healed, if you took better care of your leg."

"Look, I'm a fast healer, okay?"

"Right."

"No, I really am," Murdoc promised, in a serious tone.

"Well, I hope so, because with any luck, you'll need to be able to move quickly soon."

Murdoc eyed her suspiciously.

"Girlscout. Have you been delaying things because of my leg?!" he hissed.

MacGyver gifted him with a look of sunshiney innocence.

"Hey, these things take time."

Murdoc glared, looking murderous, and MacGyver felt cheerfully smug at being able to face that without a qualm.

"I'm fine, thank you!" Murdoc gritted out, angrily.

"Look, that was only one part of the delay," MacGyver soothed, chuckling. "I really am waiting for our best opportunity, too."

"Just get on with it," Murdoc said, sulkily, resuming walking.

"You are such a child, sometimes."

"Fortunately, for you, I'm a deadly child," Murdoc said gravely. "Do you have your knife on you?"

"Yeah, why?" MacGyver asked, tensing.

"Because I don't think those trucks belong to the Rana cartel," Murdoc told her, pointing to the east of the camp.

MacGyver turned and saw eight transport trucks rolling swiftly towards them.

"Why are they attacking a prison?"

"Half the prisoners here are from their rivals the Moreno cartel. It's probably them."

"Why? They can always get new workers for their business."

"Hey, some cartels consider their members family, even low-ranking ones. Besides, if they succeed, they humiliate the Rana cartel and maybe cost them some business and exposure. Or take over the prison for themselves."

"All right, makes sense, so..."

Murdoc gave her creepiest grin.

"...we steal one of those trucks."

"Exactly," MacGyver agreed.

The trucks had split off, heading for the compound from different directions. Two made for the main gate, while three went in the direction of the administration building. Murdoc frowned as a sixth went straight for the vegetable garden, as the seventh and eight went between the posts.

"Okay, they're destroying things I helped plant," he complained.

"You're not going to be here for harvest, anyway," MacGyver reminded him, amused.

"It's still annoying."

"Just come on," MacGyver ordered, leading them both behind the barracks, heading for the administration building.

Chaos was the word of the day, as the prisoners headed for the middle of the compound, trying to avoid getting hit by the trucks. The guards in the watchtowers opened fire, making the trucks swerve, using their elevated positions to their best advantages.

Bazookas destroyed that advantage.

"Wow," Murdoc observed, mildly.

MacGyver didn't bother responding, picking up their pace and weaving around the buildings. They stopped a few yards away from the now parked trucks, watching as Moreno soldiers poured out of the trucks. MacGyver noted with interest that they, for the most part, avoided firing at the prisoners, who seemed happy enough to stay out of the way. Unfortunately, Rana guards, heavily armed, were pouring into the compound.

Pain exploded in MacGyver's cheek, just below the corner of her eye. Reeling, she found herself sprawled out on the ground. MacGyver looked up, dismayed, finding two Rana guards and Donato Gallo standing over her. Gallo's mouth was twisted into a bitter sneer.

"The Moreno cartel is winning a victory today. I might not live through it," he admitted, angrily. "But, you know? I can at least have the satisfaction of knowing you won't see tomorrow, either. Your executioners are Raul and Poncio, two of my best men."

"Good to meet you," MacGyver said dryly, as dread built like acid in her stomach.

Raul stepped forward, raising his arm to drive his fist into MacGyver's jaw. MacGyver ducked under his arm, spinning around and planting her fist in Raul's armpit. Raul cursed and spun away himself, glaring. A sharp pain lanced into MacGyver's back, as Poncio took advantage of her distraction. MacGyver flinched, trying to back away and give herself room to run, but the three men circled around, blocking her. Together, Raul and Poncio delivered a vicious flurry of blows that put MacGyver on the ground. Gasping, MacGyver struggled to a sitting position, looking around anxiously.

"Are you looking for Murdoc? Why should he help you now, when he can get help from the Moreno cartel?"

"Because I like the girlscout," Murdoc admitted, cheerfully, coming up behind Gallo and wrapping a belt around his neck, pulling it tight.

Raul and Poncio turned towards Murdoc, pulling their pistols out. Gallo tried to shake his head, but that only tightened the belt further, making him gag.

"Release him!" Raul demanded.

"Oh!" Murdoc exclaimed sarcastically, laughing. "Are you going to shoot your boss, boys?"

"It'd be worth it, to kill you," Poncio snarled, angrily.

"Hm. Fair point," Murdoc admitted, shrugging. "It's not like I'll spare him, in any case."

"Murdoc," MacGyver snapped, frowning deeply.

MacGyver flinched, hearing three sharp retorts of gunfire. She focussed on Murdoc, but he was uninjured. The bullet that tore out Gallo's throat had just missed hitting Murdoc in the shoulder. Murdoc shoved Gallo's corpse, so he lay next to the dead bodies of his men. Murdoc looked around in confusion, wondering who had made the kills.

"Murdoc! Maje, what are you doing here?" a Moreno soldier asked, coming from behind one of the trucks.

"Why, Jafet!" Murdoc greeted. "Any chance of a lift?"

"I would, if I could, maje, but Giorgio Arce is here. He's not going to let you and an American federale go free."

"Oh, hell," Murdoc responded, rolling his eyes.

"What does Arce have against you?" MacGyver asked. "I'm assuming you killed someone."

"His brother, Emilio," Murdoc agreed.

"It's rude to kill your host, maje," Jafet scolded mildly, "but...I probably would have done the same."

"What do you mean?" MacGyver prodded, frowning heavily.

"He means, Emilio made the same mistake you often make. He forgot that I'm other things in addition to a morally challenged assassin," Murdoc said with quiet anger. "Including a father."

"I'll tell you what," Jafet offered. "I can't take you out of here, but I can get you out the fence. The forest is only twenty yards. Go while everyone is distracted."

"Thanks, Jafet."

MacGyver and Murdoc squeezed through the torn-open fence at the back of Jafet's truck. Murdoc couldn't run, so they spent a tense five minutes walking rapidly to the woods. They stopped five feet into the forest, gasping in surprised exhilaration at making it so far, unchallenged.

"Okay, we need to get to the nearest town..."

"No, no, that's not necessary," Murdoc assured her. "I have a small cabin about twenty miles west of here, on the edges of the forest. We can probably get there by noon tomorrow at the latest. From there, we can call the Phoenix."

"All right. Let's get going. Keep an eye out for anything edible."

"Of course, girlscout."

They made good time, working their way carefully through the forest. MacGyver picked their path carefully, making sure they left no traces and keeping Murdoc away from tree roots, rocks, and tangled weeds that might trip him up. It was slow going, but MacGyver kept their pace steady. She decided Murdoc was right and they would cover ten miles that day and another ten the next.

Around seven-thirty, MacGyver found a place to camp, where she could build a lean-to. She bent over to pick up a stick of wood and something swished over her head, crashing violently into the tree she was leaning against. MacGyver jumped, shocked that Murdoc was attacking.

Except, Murdoc wasn't. The assassin had stepped back and was brandishing a dead snake in triumph.

"Okay, really?" MacGyver scolded, half-glaring at her companion.

"Hey, meat is back on the menu, girlscout!"

"Terrific. Except that means lighting a fire and giving away our position."

"I doubt they have that many resources to spare right now, no matter how much Giorgio hates me. Besides, he'll be expecting us to head for Honduras, not the lovely, little village of Sesori."

"All right. We'll risk it. We'll just have to keep the fire banked low."

"Something I know how to do. I'll do that, while you work on sleeping arrangements."

"Uh-huh."

Murdoc was impressed with how much sarcasm MacGyver worked into those two little syllables. He stepped back and a small rock slid out from underneath his foot. Murdoc staggered and a surprising bolt of pain went through her nearly-healed leg. Hearing her involuntary hiss of pain, MacGyver spun back to face Murdoc.

"What did you do?"

"I slipped a bit. Never mind. I'm fine."

"Because, of course, you are," MacGyver retorted, with fine sarcasm, swallowing back the stab of concern that threatened her. "Sit down and rest. I'll bring you stuff to make a fire."

"Oh, yes, sir," Murdoc agreed ironically, sitting on some tree roots.

"You're such a brat," MacGyver muttered, moving off to perform her tasks.

Murdoc just watched her go, chuckling lightly.

"I don't, you know. We don't," MacGyver said, once they were settled around the small cookfire and waiting for the snake to roast.

"Don't what?"

"Forget that you're a dad. Forget about Cassian. I mean, Jack's killed guys a lot less dangerous than you are, in order to protect me and our country."

"That's appreciated, Agnes, but not really what I meant."

"I don't think you always know what you mean," MacGyver hedged, not wanting to consider the point Murdoc was trying to make. "Is that meat nearly done?"

"We're actually waiting for those roots you gathered to soften up just a bit more, but yes," Murdoc responded dryly. "Supper is almost ready."

"Good," MacGyver said, ignoring the faint suggestion of sorrow in Murdoc's eyes, by stooping to tend to the fire, feeding it small twigs and pieces of a larger branch.

May 18th. 11:30 A.M.

MacGyver stared at the small, cozy-looking cottage that Murdoc was leading her towards. A stone staircase led to a house decorated with, if not made of, logs. Red tiles, set at a jaunty angle, formed the roof. This...was not what she had expected. Considering things honestly, MacGyver admitted to herself that a cave, a room above a seedy bar, or an empty warehouse might be crime drama cliches, but they didn't really fit what she knew of Murdoc. The cottage, though, just seemed absurdly homey. Surely Murdoc hadn't meant to bring Cassian here?

"Come on, girlscout, daylight is wasting," Murdoc prodded, holding his door open.

"Ah. Yeah," MacGyver agreed, walking inside.

"What were you expecting?" Murdoc asked, amused.

"A hideout vibe. This place is more like a summer vacation home."

"Why be uncomfortable? I've stayed here for weeks, before, when I needed a secure place to wait."

Walking into the living room, MacGyver would have responded, but her attention was drawn above the fireplace mantel. A large painting hung there, masterfully done in vibrant colors. The blood on the falcon's beak and cElws looked ready to drip out of the painting and onto the floor. The falcon's eyes were nearly at the center of the painting and had been given an almost human expression of emotion. A nest with a single falcon chick rested firmly in the center of the painting, the focus of the other falcon's intense gaze.

It was a beautiful and disturbing image of a predator caring for its child.

"Well, what do you think?" Murdoc prodded, with manic eagerness.

"You should stop killing and stick with painting," MacGyver said, dryly. "Not everyone would realize it's a self-portrait."

"I wouldn't want everyone to know."

"I guess not."

"Come on. I'll display another skill I have, aside from killing. I want to eat something that isn't mass-produced."

"That really isn't fair to Luis," MacGyver chided lightly.

"And, again, I don't care," Murdoc said, cheerfully, leading MacGyver to the kitchen. "Would you like to help?"

"I actually am a terrible cook. I get distracted and burn things."

"What do you get distracted by?" Murdoc asked, a bit mystified.

"The science of what I'm doing and ways to improve the processes," MacGyver explained, smirking.

"Have a seat," Murdoc invited, dryly, waving at the kitchen table.

MacGyver sat down, unease creeping over her. She should be calling the Phoenix. Why wait? She couldn't explain her own reluctance, so she sat, watching Murdoc preparing a meal for them. He pulled steak and chopped potatoes from the freezer and made a quick batch of biscuits.

"You can call your team as soon as we've eaten," Murdoc told her, seeming to read MacGyver's thoughts. "You might even be home by nightfall."

"Are you going to try and escape? You must have a vehicle."

"That depends. Have I earned visits with my son, again?"

"Yeah," MacGyver assured him, hiding her wince.

"We agreed I would trade one prison for another," Murdoc reminded her, turning his attention back to preparing his food and cleaning the mess he was making.

"You didn't have to help me, to have contact with Cassian," MacGyver pointed out, taking a wild guess. "You know where he is."

"He told me," Murdoc confirmed, shrugging. "That doesn't change that he's better off where he is, than on the run with me. He's in a safe, stable place. That's what is best, right?"

"Right," MacGyver agreed, trying to sound calm and unaffected.

Murdoc set their plates in front of them and they began to eat. For MacGyver, the silence was companionable, but marred with a sense of dread. Panic welled, as she realized just how emotionally compromised she was, now that home was so close. Murdoc wasn't just an enemy, anymore, or a problem to be solved. He was...MacGyver clamped down on herself, refusing to finish the thought. Last night, she hadn't wanted to think about it. Now, with rescue and going home so close, MacGyver couldn't think of anything else. She didn't know what Murdoc was to her, after an entire month of constant companionship.

MacGyver didn't want to know, to deal with the consequences of her own emotions.

"You didn't answer my question," MacGyver prodded.

"You didn't ask one," Murdoc retorted, reasonably.

MacGyver sighed, struggling, before admitting, "I don't know how to phrase it. Just...why? You don't need...haven't needed me, not since I set your leg."

Murdoc stared at her, an angry smile curving his lips.

"The phone's in my nightstand, in the second room to the left down the hall. You better make your phone call, girlscout."

"Answer my question," MacGyver persisted.

Murdoc shoved himself away from the table, storming off to his bedroom. MacGyver reluctantly followed. She didn't really believe Murdoc was going for a pistol, but...MacGyver knew she sometimes drove people crazy. And, Murdoc had started off there. She caught up to Murdoc and found him brandishing, not a gun, but a cellphone. Angrily, Murdoc thrust it in MacGyver's direction.

"Call your buddies, Agnes."

"No. Not until you answer me. Why have you stopped trying to kill me?"

"You really don't want to know the answer to that," Murdoc warned, a savage light in his eyes."

"Maybe, but I'm still asking."

Growling angrily, Murdoc darted forward, grabbing MacGyver's face between his hands. MacGyver stiffened, not sure what was happening. Fear and hope warred in her, though she couldn't have identified what she feared or hoped for. Murdoc's mouth latching onto MacGyver's answered all of her questions nicely. The burst of pleasure she felt staggered her. Relaxing, her breath shuddering, MacGyver tentatively touched the tip of her tongue to Murdoc's lower lip.

Murdoc pulled back, his eyes wide, his body thrumming with tension.

"Murdoc," MacGyver whispered, swallowing hard, reaching out to place her hands on Murdoc's shoulders.

Murdoc stared hard into MacGyver's eyes, then pressed her into the wall, continuing the kiss. Kisses turned to petting and petting to undressing. Soon, they were entangled on top of Murdoc's bed, the phone dropped to the floor and forgotten. They made love with quiet intensity, finally admitting and giving in to desire. They lay together, after, still entangled, neither moving away.

"You have to make that phone call, girlscout," Murdoc murmured, still holding MacGyver close.

"Say it."

"No."

"Murdoc..."

Murdoc gave an angry hiss, rearing up over MacGyver and staring deep into her eyes, unblinking.

"Fine. I love you. Did you really want to hear that?"

MacGyver blinked, puzzled at Murdoc's anger.

"Murdoc, I..."

"Don't!" Murdoc commanded, his tone warier, now, than angry.

MacGyver frowned, hurt and confused.

"You love me, but don't want me to love you?"

Murdoc blinked, then tilted his head, studying MacGyver avidly. Smiling, he shook his head slightly, in confused wonder. MacGyver shut her eyes briefly, then sighed.

"You didn't think I would believe you. Lying naked with you, in your bed, you expected me to snark at you?"

"Pretty much," Murdoc admitted, his usual, cool calm back in place. Giving a soft growl, MacGyver flipped them, surprising Murdoc. MacGyver leaned down, resting her forehead lightly on Murdoc's.

"What am I going to do with you?"

"Send me to prison," Murdoc said, his tone almost soft. "Will you visit me this time?"

"Yes, I'll visit," MacGyver promised, though her mind was already struggling to find a way to make that unnecessary. "Like I started to say, I love you, too."

"The rest of Team Phoenix isn't going to like that."

"No, but they'll adjust."

"Unless, you plan on just staying here forever...or until Giorgio catches up to us."

MacGyver groaned, pushing away.

"You are a pain in the ass!"

"Excuse you," Murdoc retorted, smirking.

MacGyver gave a huff of laughter, retrieving the phone and powering it up.

"Hello?" Matty asked, warily.

"Matty, it's Mac," she greeted.

"Mac! Did you escape? We were told you had been sent to prison!"

"Yes to both. I'm someplace safe for the moment, though, and could use a ride home."

"Where are you?"

"Just outside a small village called Sesori. There's one other thing though. I'm not alone. Murdoc is with me."

"Murdoc! MacGyver..."

"I'm okay, Matty," MacGyver assured her. He's turning himself in again. It's...a long story. I'll tell you, once I'm home, okay?"

"Mac, the quickest I can get anyone there is three hours."

"That's fine, Matty. I'm safe. I promise."

"Be very careful, Mac. We'll see you soon."

"See you soon, Matty."

"How soon?" Murdoc asked.

"We have a minimum of three hours," MacGyver said, grinning, crawling back onto the bed.

"Excellent," Murdoc said with greedy glee.

May 19th 8 A.M

MacGyver sat in the conference room, shifting nervously. Matty had allowed her debriefing to wait, until she had a good night's sleep, in her own bed. The entire team had met here an hour ago, to listen to MacGyver's story. She'd told them everything, except that she and Murdoc had made love.

"Mac? Are you okay?" Bozer asked. "Being in prison with that guy..."

"He kept me safe and sane, Bozer," MacGyver interrupted, playing with the fold of her pants over her knee.

"MacGyver? What aren't you telling us?"

"I love him," MacGyver announced.

"You've got to be kidding," Desi said, severely.

"I'm not. I got to know him, in prison, a lot better. We...understand each other. Sort of. In an 'agree to disagree' way."

"You're both brilliant and he can be charming," Matty conceded. "But, he can't be trusted. He has a large debt to pay to society."

"I wouldn't ask you to free him," MacGyver assured her.

"What are you asking?" Desi asked, warily.

"Murdoc owes a debt," MacGyver repeated, spreading her hands in acknowledgment. "Why not let him pay that debt? He has a lot of information and, as you said, Matty, a brilliant mind. He could help us. He's offered to help us."

"In exchange for what, though?" Riley prodded. "He's not gonna do it for nothing."

"He might. He doesn't know I'm...he thinks he's going to prison, in exchange for nothing more than visits from Cassian and me," MacGyver countered.

"You're emotionally compromised," Desi told her, flatly.

"Sis, maybe you should take some time and think about all this," Bozer advised, gently. "You just got home. You aren't dependent on him here. You might see things differently, in a few days."

"Well. He's going to be in jail at least that long, no matter what we decide. But. I'm not going to change my mind, Bozer. I know how I feel and it's not dependent. I helped him, as much as he helped me."

"You said you weren't asking for him to be released," Desi reminded her.

"I'm not. I was actually thinking of something along the lines of house arrest."

"Which house?" Bozer asked, alarmed.

MacGyver gave him a sad smile.

"Bozer. I want him with me."

"You realize there are limits to what I can authorize?" Matty asked. "Even if I thought this was a good idea, which I do not, I would have to convince others. Those people are more likely to insist on you being fired."

"We've made deals with worse people," MacGyver insisted.

"How can you even think about trusting him not to kill you?" Riley demanded.

"I've slept next to him, for the past five weeks, every night," MacGyver reminded them. "If he wanted me dead, I would be."

"All right. Fair enough," Matty conceded. "But, we can barely keep him in a maximum-security prison. How are we supposed to keep him in a house? With an ankle bracelet?"

"Which you could easily remove," Desi added.

"I wouldn't, though," MacGyver retorted. "I love him. I'm not blinded by him. He's too dangerous to be loose in society and he has to answer for his crimes."

"You fell in love with a murderer. At the very least, we have to question your judgment...and probably your loyalty, too."

MacGyver deflated a bit, nodding reluctantly.

"I know. I can't blame you for that. I know what I'm doing, but...my motives are selfish.
I do believe he can help us, but I want to help him, too."

"I'm not making a decision here and now," Matty told them. "Mac, go do some lab work. I don't want you in the field, until this is settled and I know your mind is back in the game."

MacGyver nodded, standing up.

"I know how this looks," she told them. "You have to question me, now, but...I wouldn't...I know your safety, other people's safety, has to come first. I just...I had to try."

"Go on, Mac," Matty urged, her tone softer than she had expected.

Once she was gone, everyone took a deep breath.

"Oh, this is bad," Riley muttered.

"Are you going to keep him on?" Desi asked Matty.

"Yes, I am. Are you staying?"

Desi looked away, grimacing, but then nodded.

"Yeah. I still owe Jack and...I might not trust her, right now, but I do care. She needs protection more than ever."

"Riley? Is this going to affect you working with Mac?"

"No. I want to knock some sense into her, but I'm not abandoning her over it."

"Bozer?"

"We've all got our issues with Murdoc," Bozer said, "but, I love Mac one helluva lot more than I hate him."

"Am I the only one not being lead by my emotions?" Desi asked, annoyed.

"Probably. I don't even hate him," Riley agreed. "I just want us all to be safe from him."

Bozer nodded, slowly.

"Well, we won't be safe, if he's just under house arrest," Desi retorted.

"On the other hand, Mac does have a point. Murdoc has a lot of information we could use. It might be worth it, to get his on-going cooperation," Matty reasoned.

"And, I'd be in the house, too," Bozer agreed. "I'd be keeping an eye on both of them."

"You're all insane," Desi declared, shaking her head. "Whatever. I'll abide by your decision."

"I haven't actually made one, yet," Matty said, amused.

"Okay, but, as you said, we can barely keep him in maximum security. How would we keep him under house arrest?"

"He turned himself in," Bozer reasoned. "He didn't have to. Why bother with maximum security, if it doesn't work anyway? Maybe, we can control him, by giving him reasons to cooperate with us."

"Yeah, reasons that don't include using his kid as leverage. Murdoc hates that. Maybe we can buy his goodwill. He's made and kept deals with us before," Riley said, shrugging.

"All right. That gives me plenty of things to think about. Get back to work."

May 27th, 2019. 2 P.M.

Murdoc sat behind the glass partition in the visiting area, his eyes closed. His mind was busy, formulating possibilities and his own possible reactions. He knew MacGyver wasn't visiting. His lover was currently out of the country, on her first mission, since coming back from El Salvador. Hearing footsteps, Murdoc opened his eyes to see James MacGyver standing in front of him. Murdoc blinked, then gave an amused grin.

"Papa Bear! Are you here to ask me my intentions?"

"Something like that. Do you know what my daughter has requested?"

"Conjugal visits?"

"She doesn't need permission for that," James retorted, shrugging. "She wants you placed under house arrest, in her custody."

Murdoc shook his head, his shoulders trembling from the force of his deep, belly laughs.

"Oh! Your child is just precious. Can you blame me for loving her?"

"My question is why does she love a lunatic like you?"

"Oh, now, I have my good points! Though, I don't really expect you to see that. And, sanity is not one of them," Murdoc conceded, shrugging. "Optimist that she is, Agnes must expect you to say no."

"Actually, I'm considering it."

"Didn't we just establish that I'm the lunatic here?"

"Yes, but I'm considering it, anyway."

"In exchange for what?" Murdoc asked, shrewdly.

"What you've offered before. Information and assistance. If this happens, you'll spend one day a week in debriefing or giving us any aid we decide you can give us."

"Fair enough. In fact, it's a little bit too fair."

"I'm not doing this to get anything out of you, really. That's just a bonus. I'm doing this, because I owe my daughter."

"Oh, yes, the whole Mason thing. She told me about that, one rainy day."

"If you hurt her, I won't send you back to prison, Murdoc. I'll kill you. I promise you that. You will be very closely watched."

"No worries, Papa Bear. I'll take good care of her."

"You better."

June 8th, 2019. 3 P.M.

Riley took a deep breath, swallowing back anger and dread. The morality of Murdoc being under house arrest was an extremely dark shade of gray and, despite her assurances, she worried for MacGyver. The whole situation sucked, but...MacGyver's happiness was involved.

In the few years she'd known her, Riley'd never known MacGyver to be truly happy. She seemed content and together, mostly. MacGyver obviously held a deep love for her work and an even deeper one for her friends. Happiness, though, seemed to allude the genius. MacGyver was always struggling with something, first Nick's apparent betrayal, then Patty's actual one, and then discovering her father and all his secrets.

Riley would have added loving Murdoc to the list, except...

Murdoc seemed to make MacGyver happy. It'd only been a couple of weeks, but she could tell. Anyone who loved her could.

So, Riley was going to do whatever she could to help make this little arrangement work. Right now, that meant dragging Mr. Anti-social to dinner. So far, whenever one of the team was visiting, Murdoc had made himself scarce. She didn't blame him for that, but she knew it just didn't work as a long-term solution. Heading for the left side yard, Riley opened the door to find herself face to face with MacGyver's neighbor from across the road, Mrs. Nora Lowell.

Riley pasted on a smile, giving a "friendly" nod. The older woman's bright red smile was equally fake.

"Miss Davis, how nice to see you again," Nora cooed. "Is Ms. MacGyver home?"

"No, she's at the store. We're getting ready to eat and Bozer needed some last-minute things," Riley lied. "Can I take a message?"

"Oh," Nora said, dissatisfied, then sighed. "Well, I suppose that will have to do. I only wanted to ask her, if she and Mr. Bozer could please not mow the lawn so early in the morning. Their mower is terribly loud. I think Ms. MacGyver must have tinkered with it, because it was making the strangest thumping sounds."

"Oh, that wasn't the mower," Murdoc replied, coming towards them from the yard. "That was me building a treehouse for my son. I rather thought nine-thirty would be late enough not to wake anyone."

Riley gave him a pointed look and Murdoc cheerfully added, "I'm sorry."

Nora just gazed at him, her hand coming up to play with her thick, auburn hair, that was only beginning to be streaked with gray. Even Riley had to admit Murdoc looked good, wearing nothing but a black tank top and tight, black denim shorts. Nora's eyes traveled rudely over the lean muscle of Murdoc's lanky body. His tousled black hair fell fetchingly over his eyes. Swallowing a laugh, Riley watched Nora's eyes linger at the equally black hair just showing above the neckline of Murdoc's shirt. Murdoc stared back at Nora with cold amusement.

"Oh, that's, um, that's quite all right. I...I wasn't sleeping. I just usually take my morning coffee around then, but I can do it later. Or earlier, Mister, um...I'm sorry we haven't met."

"My name is Murdoc."

"I'm Nora," she practically purred, smiling brightly. "Nora Lowell."

"Nora and her husband run a clothing boutique," Riley supplied, sweetly, earning a dirty look from her.

"How fun," Murdoc said, dryly.

"Are you a friend of Ms. MacGyver's?" Nora asked, stepping a bit closer.

"You could say that," Murdoc answered, laughing a bit, moving his right leg forward, to show off his ankle monitor. "She agreed to take custody of me, while I'm under house arrest."

Nora paled, her eyes going wide.

"Oh. Um. How very kind of her. I...I need to get home. Have a nice day," she said, hurriedly, moving away.

"Take care," Murdoc said, with bland indifference. Once Nora was gone, Murdoc turned to Riley. "Wow, so who's the cougar?"

"Nora Lowell and that says it all about her. Well, that and she likes to complain. She doesn't like Mac or Bozer. She likes you, though!"

"Not anymore, I hope. She can look if she wants. I just don't want to talk to her."

"You and me both," Riley agreed. "So, we're eating in twenty. That gives you just enough time to stop looking like some dime-novel, wet dream and get to the patio."

"Am I coming to dinner?" Murdoc challenged.

"Yeah, you are," Riley answered, blithely. "For Mac's sake, we're all going to try getting along. You did some shitty stuff, Murdoc, but you're paying for it, being cooped up here..."

"With darling Nora for a next-door neighbor," Murdoc added, smirking.

"Yeah and that's not something I would normally wish on anyone," Riley agreed. "So, whatever. It is what it is."

"So, this is the hand you've been dealt and you're just going to roll with it?" Murdoc asked, giving an astonished laugh.

"It's a sane person thing, Murdoc," Riley quipped. "Don't you hurt yourself trying to understand it."

"Ooo. Ouch."

"Yeah, right. Shower. We eat in twenty," she ordered, going back into the house, ignoring the chuckles that followed her.

May 30th, 2020 2 P.M.

Murdoc walked into the living room, wiping paint from his hands on a cloth, and froze. Three Phoenix soldiers stood in the living room, with Matty. MacGyver stood there, too, her expression calm.

"Well, hello. Have I done something to warrant a visit?"

"Yes," Matty said, amused. "You've actually managed to behave yourself for an entire year. Who knew you had it in you?"

"No one, I would think," Murdoc quipped, giving his creepiest grin.

"Well, you've earned a reward, of sorts," Matty explained. "We're upgrading your tracking device. Show him."

One of the soldiers opened a metal case. Inside, lay two ankle bracelets, made of metal. They were a shiny chrome, looking almost like jewelry, except for the small, electronic box that held them in a circle.

"Ooo. Two of them?" Murdoc asked, arching his eyebrows.

"One of them is for Mac," Matty explained. "You'll be allowed off the premises, so long as you remain within five feet of MacGyver. Of course, all trips outside the house will have to be cleared first."

"Mmmhmmm," Murdoc hummed, knowingly. "And, what's the catch?"

"You're playing guinea pig. These are experimental. You won't just be monitored and tracked, though, this should give us a clear view of where you are at all times. We can also administer discipline, at least in theory."

"Fatal discipline?"

"Well, it's not supposed to be, no."

"Oooo! Hence, the need for a guinea pig. It's not in my best interests to give you an opportunity to discipline me, Matty."

"No, but all we really need is to make sure we can send signals and work on response times. You will occasionally feel a slight tingling sensation. It shouldn't be strong enough to be painful," Matty promised. "Let us know, if it is, and we can adjust it."

"You're planning on letting more criminals loose in society?"

"Well, except for you, we'll be starting with non-violent criminals. The ultimate goal is to reduce the prison population and aim for rehabilitation, whenever possible, over incarceration."

"Of course. Look, honey!" Murdoc said gleefully to MacGyver. "They could almost pass as a substitute for wedding rings!"

"If we're going to be married, I demand a ceremony," MacGyver retorted, grinning.

"Oooo, you sound tempted!"

"Later," Matty warned. "We need to get this done."

Twenty minutes later, Matty and the soldiers were gone. Murdoc lounged on the couch, admiring his new accessory. It was certainly more attractive than the nylon band it had replaced. MacGyver sat down next to Murdoc, sprawling across him.

"You know, when you first told me about this deal, I thought you were delusional."

"You told me I was delusional," MacGyver reminded him, amused.

Murdoc let go of his pants leg and wrapped his arms around his lover.

"And, I never was more glad to be wrong. I think your team is warming up to me."

"Yeah, it's amazing how far you can get with people, by not threatening to kill them," MacGyver chided lightly, placing a kiss directly between Murdoc's eyes.

"Hmph. I think it just proves you and your team are as crazy as I am."

"I'm okay with that," MacGyver decided, chuckling.

"Come on," Murdoc said, standing abruptly and pulling MacGyver to him. "I want to show you something."

Curious, MacGyver followed Murdoc into the room they had converted into an art studio for him. A painting sat drying on an easel, in the middle of the room.

"It's almost done, enough for me to show it off."

"Oh, wow," MacGyver said, softly, studying the picture.

The same falcon from the picture in El Salvador was flying over a lush riverbank, but it hadn't been hunting. Instead, it was flying with two other birds: the smaller falcon and a phoenix. The phoenix was painted in full, mythological splendor, it's wings and tail tipped with fire. Its feathers were orange, red, and yellow, while its eyes were the phosphorescent shade of a blue flame. The falcon and the phoenix flew close together, tilting towards each other. There was a playfulness to the scene that made MacGyver smile.

"I never thought I'd paint something like that," Murdoc admitted, in the light tone MacGyver had discovered hid so much.

"Don't worry," MacGyver assured him, playfully. "The predatory bird theme is totally you."

Murdoc gave a huff of laughter, bending and nibbling at a ticklish spot on MacGyver's neck, making her squirm and pull away with a sharp laugh.

"Come back here," Murdoc coaxed, pulling MacGyver back to him. "Happy anniversary, girlscout."

"Happy anniversary," MacGyver agreed, leaning in and kissing her lover warmly.

comments

Dennis chronicles

Mon, 01 Jul 2019 04:22:03 GMT

3. meeting Phoenix, including James, and not being welcomed properly/Jack punching mean!James,
6. singing "the cover is not the book" obnoxiously to terrorist king and getting ears pierced,
13. Someone says something about threatening Dennis, referring to him as a baby. Dennis is all "Who? Who threatened a baby?!"
14. Teen Dennis in alternate universe rescuing child hostages from terrorists, while Phoenix, not knowing him, are dealing with multi versions of Murdoc,
16. Dennis helps Mac blow up room 'I want to do it Daddy! Me!" "Can I give you advice as one father to another? Learn how to say no."
19. Cassian reacting to Mac being, well, Mac. Science nerd and genius who sets things on fire.

3/13/16, 8, 6, 14/15

October 9th, 3 A.M.

Cassian stirred awake, feeling something soft brush across his face. Forcing his eyes open, he saw his dad...no, Dennis' face just above his, his lips still puckered from giving Cassian's cheek a kiss.

"Wha...?"

"Sleep?" Dennis said, in a loud whisper. "Cass'n sleep?"

"Mmmhmmm. Go back to bed, Dennis. It's okay," Cassian assured him, reaching out and stroking Dennis' hair.

"'kay? Cass'n sleep," Dennis said agreeably, placing another kiss on Cassian's forehead.

"Yep, time to sleep."

"Yah. Sleep," Dennis said, hopping down from the bed and toddling towards the door, picking Bark up from the floor as he went.

Cassian sighed, burrowing back into his pillow. He pointedly didn't reflect on the fact that a toddler had just checked on him, like a good dad would. Dennis couldn't be his dad anymore and Cassian was determined to just accept that fact and moved on. He was still loved. They were just brothers now and their adopted dad was turning out to be really cool. Weird, in his own way, but cool. His attempt at emptying his thoughts was disrupted by a thump, coming from the opposite direction of Dennis' room.

Groaning, Cassian got up and went to MacGyver's bedroom, knocking softly on the door. A moment later, MacGyver appeared, frowning with concern.

"Cassian?" MacGyver asked, his voice rough with sleep. "What's wrong, buddy?"

"Dennis is up and wandering around. He was in my room. I tried to send him back to bed, but I think he went downstairs."

MacGyver gave a wry chuckle.

"Yeah, okay. Go on back to bed," MacGyver said soothingly, tousling Cassian's hair. "I'll get him."

"Thanks, Dad."

"No problem."

MacGyver trudged downstairs, not sure what to expect. He found Dennis in the front hallway, waving around one of the small flashlights that MacGyver seemed to accumulate, without meaning to. Dennis stood next to the door, shining his light into the small area between the coin-operated horse and the wall.

"Dennis. What are you doing?"

"Look."

"At what?" MacGyver asked, with fairly good humor.

"What? No? Look!"

Dennis suited action to word, waving the flashlight around and running over to examine the area around the stuffed polar bear.

"Dennis, not now. It's bedtime."

"No! I see!" Dennis argued, running over to one of MacGyver's mannequin heads and frowning. "Green!"

"Yeah, it's green."

"Is face. Green!"

"Yeah, it's a green face," MacGyver agreed with weary humor.

"Yugg?"

"It's not ill. It's just green."

"Ooof."

"Dennis, come on. You're going to bed."

"Daddy! Look!" Dennis whined.

Making a shushing sound, Dennis ran over to the corner, then carefully poked his head, then the flashlight around to the other side. He jumped back, then moved and took another, longer look. Sighing, MacGyver walked over to Dennis and picked him up, grabbing the flashlight. Dennis gave a startled gasp, then laughed, when MacGyver held the flashlight under his own chin and moaned out a long "Boooooooo."

"Okay, kid. Times up. There's no one here, but us. Bedtime."

"No? One?"

"Yup, just us."

"Us?"

"Yeah."

"Daddy?"

"Mmhmmm," MacGyver hummed in agreement, walking into Dennis' room and sitting on his bed, with Dennis on his lap.

"Ang's? Daddy?"

"Yep, that's me."

"Yah. Daddy, Ang's?"

"Yep."

"Ang's. Daddy. Daddy. Ang's. Daddy. Daddy. Daddy. Ang's. Daddy," Dennis repeated, giving a thoughtful little nod, before looking up MacGyver, eyebrows arched. "Mine? Daddy?"

"Yes, I'm your daddy," MacGyver agreed, laughing a bit.

"Yah. Ang's. Daddy. Daddy. Cass'n? Daddy?" Dennis asked, emphasizing the question with a wave of his hand.

"Yes," MacGyver said soothingly. "I'm Cassian's daddy, too. He needs a daddy."

"Yah. Cass'n. Daddy. Mine. Daddy."

MacGyver gave a sigh, reaching down and kissing the top of Dennis' head. He wished he knew if this was merely toddler babbling, learning through repetition, or if Dennis was harboring any real anxieties. The boy had plenty of reason to be confused.

"Yes, I'm your daddy. Dennis' and Cassian's daddy."

The kiss and assurance seemed to startle Dennis, who sat back, looking up at MacGyver with wide eyes. MacGyver wondered if he'd upset him, but Dennis leaned up, placing a kiss on MacGyver's chin. MacGyver couldn't help the wide grin he gave, especially when Dennis followed the kiss with a wide yawn.

"Ang's. Mine. Daddy," Dennis said, happily, then leaned over, resting against MacGyver's chest.

MacGyver sat, cradling Dennis, until he was sound asleep, then tucked him into bed with Bark.

"G'night, kiddo."

A warm spring day. Dennis is almost two.

Dennis ran out the door, as Jack came inside, heading down the sidewalk towards the street. Laughing, Jack and MacGyver chased after him.

"Hey! Baby 'doc! Where you going?" Jack called after him.

Dennis turned around and ran back towards them, stopping on the path.

"Jagg?"

"Yeah, hi. Where do you think you were going?"

"I go! Daaa..." Dennis said, pointing towards the street, "...ere," swinging his hand to the left of him, "ooor yaaa," swinging his hand to the right, "wooohoooowoooo," he cried happily, pointing to the sky and making circles with his finger, "'en here, YES!" Dennis finished, grinning, pulling his arms in tight, with his eyes and fists squeezed tight in a gesture of victory.

"Okay, the helicopter thing worries me," MacGyver admitted, chuckling.

"Hey, he just laid his whole scheme out for us. Too bad we didn't understand a word," Jack teased, grinning.

"That might be a good thing. I have a better idea," MacGyver told Dennis. "How about we go inside and play with your blocks instead?"

"Bloggs? Yay!" Dennis agreed, clapping his hands.

"All right, let's go in," MacGyver said, taking his hand and leading Dennis to the door, Jack following alongside them.

A summer day. Dennis is two now, though not by much.

Cassian rushed into the house, finding MacGyver and Jack in the living room. MacGyver looked up from tinkering on a radio.

"Dad, Dennis got hold of a hammer! He's bashing away at the ground and screaming!"

"Okay, I'll get him," MacGyver promised, hurrying outside, with Jack.

He'd allowed the boys to play in the front yard, as long as Cassian kept a close eye on Dennis. The front sidewalk was now covered in bright chalk marks. The sidewalk chalk had been abandoned though. Dennis was crouching over one section, banging a hammer onto it, with tears streaming down his cheeks. Dennis swung particularly hard and the hammer bounced up, almost catching him in the face.

"Dennis," MacGyver swore, running over and taking the hammer. "What are you doing?!"

"Get me!" Dennis wailed, pointing at his shadow, then tracing a path with his finger across the yard. "Thing git me! I go dere and oooo'er and bak and it git me!"

Dennis clutched his hands to his chest in emphasis, while MacGyver stared in bewilderment.

"Dennis, your shadow is not trying to get you," MacGyver said trying to edge his voice away from disbelief to comfort.

"Yah! I go, dere, dere, dere and GIT ME!" Dennis sobbed, turning and trying to kick at his shadow.

Jack picked Dennis up, unable to hide his chuckles. Dennis put his arms around Jack's neck, pressing their cheeks together. Jack was startled to find the boy was actually trembling.

"Aw, c'mon, Baby 'doc," Jack soothed. "That's just your shadow."

"Mine?! No. Nah want! Go AWAY!" Dennis screeched down at his shadow, waving his hand threateningly.

"Dennis, it isn't alive. It's just where the sunlight isn't getting around you," MacGyver tried to explain.

"Git me, Daddy. Git and EAT me," Dennis decided, pouting.

"Um, can I try?" Cassian asked, receiving nods from his dad and Jack. "Dennis, it wasn't chasing you. It was trying to say hello."

"Huh? 'lo?" Dennis asked.

"Yeah, see? This is my shadow," Cassian assured him, pointing out his own shadow. "It just wants to be friends. Why scream and hit, when you can be friends?"

"Shaaa. Dow? Fends?"

"Yeah. You should be friends with your shadow. They're lots of fun. Wanna see?"

"Yah?" Dennis agreed, squirming to get down.

Jack set him down, giving Cassian a wink and a thumbs up. Cassian grinned back and took Dennis' hand.

"See? Can you wave at your shadow? Wave hello?"

Dennis gave Cassian a puzzled look, but obeyed, holding up his hand and waving it back and forth. The shadow copied him and Dennis gave a startled laugh.

"It hi?"

"Sure. You can even dance a bit with your shadow, if you're careful."

Cassian moved slowly around, guiding Dennis, so their shadows followed them, appearing, at least a bit, to dance around them. Dennis laughed some more, clapping his hands.

"Fend!"

"Yup. On sunny days, your shadow plays with you."

"Play me? Shadow. Play!"

"Cassian, where did he get the hammer from? Did you see?"

"I think he got it from Uncle Jack's truck."

"Mine?" Dennis asked, reaching for the hammer.

"Nope, not yours," MacGyver told him, firmly. "This is for bigger people. You play with your chalk and your trains."

"OOooh," Dennis complained, then brightened. "Draw? Shadow?"

"Sure, draw your shadow," MacGyver agreed, glad this particular crisis was over.

Someday, he promised himself, he would tease Dennis about the time he was literally afraid of his own shadow.

Smol boy is still smol. Two and half, maybe? And Bozer has been baby-sitting/visiting.

Dennis hurried into the living room, his rushing hampered by the large, glass jar he had clutched to his chest.

"Bozer! Uncle Bozer! We have a problem!" Dennis cried, skidding to a stop in front of Bozer.

"What's wrong?" Bozer asked. "What's with the jar?"

"It's EMPTY!" Dennis told him, holding the jar up for inspection. "Look! Not even one little pickle!"

"Dennis," Bozer said flatly. "Is that the jar of pickles I opened for you this morning?"

"Yah and they're gone!"

"You and I have been mostly alone here all day and I have not eaten any pickles," Bozer told him, wearily.

"No. You didn't," Dennis agreed, nodding.

"I'm pretty sure your parents and Cassian haven't eaten any, since they got home."

"Nope."

"Which means, you ate that entire jar of pickles by yourself," Bozer concluded dryly.

"Yeah. They're gone," Dennis protested.

"Because you ate them."

"Yeah?"

"Dennis, no one is going to the store at seven at night, because you managed to eat an entire jar of pickles in eight hours," Bozer said, firmly.

"He did what?!" MacGyver said, coming into the room.

"Daddy! I need more pickles!" Dennis pleaded.

"Is that the jar I bought yesterday?" MacGyver asked, disbelieving, watching Bozer nod in agreement.

"They're all gone. Not even one little pickle left!"

"Uh, yeah. You definitely do not need any more pickles, Dennis. If you're still hungry, which should be impossible, you can have a banana, or a hot dog, or a piece of cheese. We'll get more pickles, the next time we go shopping."

"No more pickles?" Dennis whined.

"Not until I shop again and, from now on, you can only have two pickles a day. You don't need to eat an entire jar!"

"But I want pickles!" Dennis demanded.

"Well, you ate them all, so there aren't any," MacGyver reasoned, giving a slight laugh. "That's why you shouldn't eat them all at once."

"Ohhhh. O-kay," Dennis agreed, sadly.

Bozer picked Dennis up, giving him a hug.

"Come on, buddy. Let's give your daddy the jar," Bozer said, handing the jar to Mac. "You wanna do some drawing? You want to make pretty pictures?"

"You draw me Bark?"

"Yeah, I'll draw Bark for you," Bozer agreed, laughing dryly.

Dennis is old enough to do this and young enough to really not know better. And, he has opinions.

MacGyver and Jack sat out on the patio, chatting and de-stressing from their latest mission. Hearing a knock on it, MacGyver got up and opened the patio door. Dennis came through, dragging his little wagon.

The wagon was brimming with food, including a large platter of ham and other leftovers from Thanksgiving.

"Dennis, why do you have half of the refrigerator in your wagon?" MacGyver asked, bemused.

"I very hungry, Daddy!"

"You gonna eat all that, Baby 'doc?" Jack asked, laughing.

"No!" Dennis laughed. "I gotta show you what I want."

"Okay," MacGyver asked dryly, sitting back down. "What do you want?"

"Okay," Dennis echoed, parking the wagon between himself and MacGyver. "I want ham, with tomatoes, on bread, with this!"

Dennis held up a jar of mayonnaise.

"I want this one. Not that other one," Dennis protested, gesturing towards the kitchen. He gave the mayonnaise a friendly pat. "This one!"

"Yeah, I know how you feel about salad dressing," MacGyver assured him, chuckling.

"It's very yuck."

"Uh huh. What else? You have a lot more stuff there."

"Yeah. I got cheesy potatoes! I love cheesy potatoes. And, I do want pickles, but, but, not on my sandwich!" Dennis clarified, holding his hand up. "I can eat these by themselves."

"Yeah, believe me, we know," Jack agreed, smirking.

"Yeah, you do know," Dennis agreed, shamelessly, grinning. "And, olives! Olives are nice, too."

"Damn, Baby 'doc, you are hungry."

"Jack, language," MacGyver scolded mildly.

"Sorry."

"Dennis, what do you want with this?" MacGyver asked, holding up a jar of garlic cloves.

Confusion settled over Dennis' face.

"Um. I don't know those?" he admitted, then shrugged. "I brought those just in case."

"Okay, well, you don't eat these by themselves," MacGyver explained. "You cook with them. Now, I have another question for you."

"Yeah?"

"Why did you drag all of this out? Wouldn't it have been easier to just come out here and say, 'Daddy, I want a sandwich, please'?"

"No! Not just sandwich..."

"And some sides," MacGyver amended, hastily, shrugging.

"Siiides, yes. Cheesy potatoes," Dennis emphasized.

"Okay, but if you had just asked, you'd be eating by now."

"Well, I helped! I was bringing you the stuffs."

"Oh, okay," MacGyver laughed. "Well, now we have to take all this stuff back, because sandwiches are made in the kitchen."

"Okay!" Dennis agreed cheerfully, grabbing the wagon's handle and tugging. "Here we go!"

"Would you like some help?"

"No, I'm smart and strong. I can."

"All right," MacGyver agreed, complacently, going and holding open the door.

Thursday, 4 P.M. Dennis is three.

Multi-dimensional transition layers for an exothermic reaction-diffusion system in long cylindrical domains by Masayasu Mimura and Kunimochi Sakamoto in the Journal of Mathematical Sciences at the University of Tokyo 1996

Dennis ran into James' living room from his den, a magazine clutched to his chest. James grinned, shaking his head. He'd really come to love having his grandsons visit, taking every opportunity he could to babysit them. He shoved away the pang of regret that he hadn't valued his own son's childhood and the memories they could have had. He was a father and a grandfather now and he knew that was more than he deserved.

"Paaaah-pop!" Dennis sang out, smiling slyly. "Guess what I got!"

"Something made of paper," James answered, chuckling.

"Yeah, it is made of paper!" Dennis agreed, handing James the magazine. "Read me?"

"Dennis, I don't think you'll enjoy this," James said gently. "Why don't we read one of the books I bought you?"

"Nooo," Dennis complained, upset. "This one! I picked!"

"Okay!" James said, hastily, deciding Dennis would change his mind, once James started reading. "Let's go sit down."

They sat together in James' armchair and Dennis settled in his lap, leaning against his Pah-pop's chest. James opened to the first article, a piece on exothermic reactions.

"'Variety of spatio and/or temporal patterns are observed in combustion processes with or without supply of fuel. In order to theoretically understand such pattern formations, several mathematical models have been proposed so far. Among them, we focus our attention on a thermal and diffusive equation which describes a single step exothermic reaction.'"

"Oh, see, Pap-pop? I like dinosaur stories. An exothermy!"

Right. Of course. What three year old didn't love dinosaurs? He continued reading, wondering what Dennis was really making of the article.

"'Namely, the concentration c decreases to zero and the temperature θ increases to a certain positive value as the time t progresses to ∞. Therefore the source of spatio-temporal patterns observed in exothermic reactions, such as combustion processes, has to be sought somewhere else.'"

"No food there. Keep looking, exothermy."

James paused, but only for a moment. Dennis was suitably entertained, it seemed, and James already knew the boy had a vivid imagination. He didn't dwell on how he would explain any of this to Angus. Then, again, he would probably be amused.

"'...respectively, the hot state and the cold state corresponding to the uniform reactant concentration λ. From the conditions in (A1), the cold state can not exist when the uniform reactant concentration is higher than Λ1, while the hot state can not exist for the uniform reactant concetration lower than Λ0..."

"A volcano!" Dennis gasped, eyes wide. "That poor exothermy!"

"'When, on the other hand, the diffusion rate is lower than the critical value d0, the diffusion effect of the reactant is no more capable of restoring the imbalance, and therefore, the equilibrium state can no longer be stable. As a result, the system starts to oscillate, as if, in an effort to settle down on a comfortable position.'"

"No, don't nap," Dennis scolded. "Naps aren't good!"

"Well, maybe he's an adult exothermy," James said, laughing. "Adults like naps."

"Sad," Dennis told him, flatly, shrugging.

"Maybe," James agreed, kissing the top of Dennis' head.

James kept reading, skipping the equations, hoping Dennis would think they were pictures of the story, which was true, in a way.

"'As the analyses in the previous sections show, it is technically complicated to treat the problem (1.5)-(1.8) directly. Therefore, from the practical view point of studying dynamical behaviour of (1.1), it is desirable to have a simple model which captures essential dynamics of (1.1).'"

"Oh, good, he found food! Exothermies get very hungry! Dynamics is yummy for them."

"I don't doubt it. I prefer a good piece of pie, myself. 'By an elementary computation after suitable change of variables and using g± < 0, one can show that ∂l2/∂p < 0. Therefore the equation l2(p, β) = 1/√d has a unique solution and the proof of Lemma 2.1 has been completed.'"

"The End!" Dennis cried happily. "That was good story, Pah-pop."

"I'm glad you liked it. Why don't you go see, if Cassian is done with his homework."

"Okay!"

Once he was gone, James pulled out his cellphone, calling Angus, even though he knew his son would be busy in the Phoenix labs.

"Hey, Dad, everything okay?"

"Yes. I just wanted to warn you that your youngest son thinks an exothermic reaction is a type of dinosaur. I'm sorry, but there really wasn't anything I could do."

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, followed by helpless laughter.

"Where did he even hear that phrase?"

"He insisted I read to him from one of my science journals."

"Ah. Okay, that...almost makes sense."

"In addition to warning you, I thought you might like to have him tell you...whatever story he was hearing inside his little head."

"Um. Yeah, no...thank you. I'll pass on that, if he lets me!" Angus disagreed, laughing.

"I wish you luck, son."

"Thanks, Dad! I should be over there in about an hour."

"All right. I'll have supper ready."

"Okay, see you then."

"Bye, Angus."

James got up, going to check on his much-loved grandchildren.

Dennis is three, maybe close to four. He's a sleepy baby.

Murdoc glared up at the young woman, who lurked behind her raised pedestal with a self-satisfied grin. Murdoc wanted to wipe that grin off the woman's face...if she even was a woman. She certainly wasn't human, not with skin that was not only gray, but intriguingly translucent in places. The boyscout didn't look intrigued though. He looked disturbed. And angry. Well, that was to be expected. Murdoc fully intended to kill their "host," given a quarter of a chance.

Murdoc appreciated a certain lawlessness, but he wouldn't tolerate being kidnapped.

"Why did you bring us here?" MacGyver demanded, earning an eye roll from his nemesis.

Murdoc didn't care why. He just wanted to kill her and go home. The thought must have communicated itself, somehow, because MacGyver shifted, moving slightly between Murdoc and their kidnapper.

"Curiosity," the woman answered, shrugging. "I am Zarla. I'm studying interdimensional variations among people of different species. I thought the variations of an assassin's relationships in alternate universes would be interesting. So, I chose you! And, wow, you two really do interact in a wide variety of ways."

"I'm sure," MacGyver said, flatly, unimpressed. "So, why bring us here?"

"Observation is so bland, after a while. And, I thought it would be interesting to see how you react to other versions of yourself!"

"We're the only ones here," Murdoc pointed out, impatiently, waving a hand at the mostly empty room.

The room was fairly large, well-lit, with lights and panels flickering on the wall. The walls were a bland shade of light blue. The floor was a clean white that made Murdoc long for mud on his well-shined boots.

"Well, let's fix that!" Zarla agreed, enthusiastically.

A square of orange light appeared a few feet away from them, starting off small, then growing larger and more rectangular. When the light disappeared, another version of MacGyver stood in the center of the room, gazing about in alarm.

"Ooo, two boyscouts!" Murdoc enthused. "I might forgive you, after all, Zarla!"

The newer MacGvyer's eyes swung to Murdoc, going wide.

"Murdoc?" he asked, hesitantly, his tone intrigued, but also...well, not afraid, but worried.

"Oh, yes! These are the MacGyver and Murdoc from dimension 58, 431 in the 92nd district of plurality."

"Whatever that means," MacGyver said, rolling his eyes. "Why am I here?"

"She's comparing relationships in different dimensions," Murdoc answered dryly, tilting his head as the other MacGyver studied him.

"Right. You..."

"I actually didn't mean to bring you," Zarla admitted. "I meant to bring your dimension's Murdoc. But, let's do a little survey, before I bring him here..."

"No!" MacGyver ordered.

"Oh, come on!" Zarla coaxed. "One teeny question! Ooo, like that game you humans play! Screw, marry, or kill? Would you rather forget about Murdoc entirely, marry him, or kill him?"

MacGyver shuddered.

"Yeah, I'll take a very hard pass on all of those."

"All of them?" Zarla asked, a bit surprised. "Even killing him? He's your enemy, right? He tried to kill you?"

"Well, yeah, but..."

"If you're squeamish, I could do it for you," Zarla offered, with mock sweetness.

"You lay a hand on him and I'll break your neck," MacGyver warned her, hotly, his eyes wide with anger.

"Ooo. Maybe he's the killer in that universe!" Murdoc suggested.

"Keep dreaming, Murdoc," MacGyver answered, surprisingly amused, shaking his head.

"Let's find out," Zarla said, angrily, bringing back the orange light.

This time, when it cleared, a small boy with black hair and dark brown eyes stood in the room, clutching a blanket with a fox's head to his chest. He sobbed angrily, turning to Zarla and scowling. Murdoc stared, stunned, at himself as a tiny child.

"YOU ALMOST CUT MY BARK!" Dennis screamed. "You are bad stranger!"

"Dennis," MacGyver called to him, kneeling down and holding out his hands. "Come here, little guy. It's okay."

"Daddy!" Dennis cried, running into MacGyver's arms.

The first MacGyver stared in shocked wonder, sneaking a glance at his Murdoc. No matter how helpful Murdoc was, MacGyver never forgot he was an assassin. He was surprised to see a slightly wistful expression on his nemesis' face. MacGyver 2.0 gave them a wistful smile.

"He's my son, that's the 'variation,'" MacGyver 2.0 explained, standing with Dennis cradled in his arms.

MacGyver 1.0 just stared, looking back and forth between Murdoc and Dennis, trying to process.

"Daddy, listen!" Dennis complained. "I was 'sleep and a bad light got me. A-and, Bark wasn't all in. But, I snatched him."

"I'm sorry. It's okay."

"She did it, Daddy," Dennis told him, thrusting an accusing finger at Zarla. "It was her!"

"Shhhh," MacGyver soothed, standing with Dennis nestled in his arms. "I know. I know it was. Is Bark okay?"

"Yeah," Dennis said, with a sad, hiccuping noise. "You said take nap. And, I didn't want to, but I did. She waked me and I feel very yuck!"

Dennis gave another watery sob, laying his head on MacGyver's shoulder and whining softly.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry you feel yuck," MacGyver assured Dennis, running a hand in gentle circles over the boy's back and kissing his temple. "Try to calm down, buddy."

"I don't get it," Murdoc said, flatly. "You knew who I am, but..."

"You were hiding in a cabin in the mountains with Cassian. A meteorite struck and you got hit with fragments. You ended up in a cocoon and when you emerged..." MacGyver trailed off, motioning to the tiny child in his arms.

"Where's Cassian?" Murdoc snarled.

"LEAVE MY CASSIAN ALONE!" Dennis screamed, turning around slightly.

"Hey, hey, talk nice," MacGyver instructed, calmly, cuddling him closer. "He's just concerned. It's okay. Cassian's at school."

"Do you think I would adopt you and not take care of Cassian?" MacGyver 1.0 asked, reproachfully, in a low voice. "You adopted...Dennis, right?"

"Yeah. He was about one and a half, then."

"I'm three," Dennis murmured, his voice slow and sleepy.

"You are now, yes," MacGyver agreed, chuckling.

"Well, I'll leave you gentlemen alone to compare notes. You'll be recorded, of course," Zarla announced, then punched some buttons on her pedestal, making furniture appear in the room. "Make yourselves comfy!"

With that, orange light surrounded her, taking her away. With a huff of anger, MacGyver 2.0 went and sat down on the long sofa that was now in the center of the room. He maneuvered Dennis onto one of the pillows and covered him with Bark. Murdoc and MacGyver 1.0 joined him, sitting in the armchairs across from the couch. MacGyver 2.0 couldn't help staring at Murdoc, then looking away.

"Something?" Murdoc pressed.

"No," MacGyver 2.0 assured him, then laughed ruefully. "It's odd seeing you again. I almost wish Cassian was here. He still misses you, sometimes. He loves Dennis, but it isn't the same."

"At least they're together," Murdoc said, shrugging, taking the practical point of view.

"Yeah. You two are still enemies?"

"Nah. More like frenemies," Murdoc assured him. "I even saved his life once!"

"By shooting me in the shoulder," MacGyver 1.0 said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, that was not fun," MacGyver 2.0 agreed, smiling ruefully.

"So picky," Murdoc complained.

"Y'know, we really need to see, if we can escape," MacGyver 1.0 suggested, standing.

They examined the room and its equipment, but the technology was too alien. Giving up, they sat back down and talked, comparing universes, until Dennis woke up. The boy sat up, stretching, then opened his eyes. He looked at MacGyver 1.0, then turned to his daddy and froze. He turned back to MacGyver 1.0 and blinked up at him.

"Dad-dy. You doubled. Double is two. One. Two," Dennis said, counting on his fingers. He then pointed at each of the MacGyvers, repeating, "One. Two."

Dennis finished with a decisive little nod, staring between them. MacGyver laughed, ruffling his son's hair.

"Yeah, there's two of me, here. Remember Spiderverse? This is an alternate universe version of me and that's his friend, Murdoc."

"Spiderverse? Ohhh," Dennis crooned, then his eyes went wide. "Daddy?!"

"Yeah?"

Dennis pressed up against MacGyver, staring in his eyes excitedly, asking, "Are you Spiderman?!"

"No, I'm not Spiderman," MacGyver denied, laughing.

"Oh. Is Uncle Jack Spiderman?"

"No," MacGyver assured him, rolling his eyes. "He probably wishes he was."

"Ohh," Dennis said, disappointed, before cheering up again. "Can I be Spiderman?"

The others laughed.

"Wow. You are in trouble," Murdoc told MacGyver happily.

"Ye-ahh. I'll tell you what, Dennis. When you're at least eighteen years old, about twice as old as Cassian, if a radioactive spider chooses to bite you, and you develop superpowers, then, yes. You can be Spiderman."

"Yay!" Dennis exclaimed, clapping his hands.

"I think he only heard that last sentence," MacGyver 1.0 said, earning a weary nod of agreement from Dennis' dad.

"I heard! I gotta be really old, get bit by special spider, and get powers. Then, I can be Spiderman," Dennis protested, earning more laughter.

"A spider has to choose to bite you. You can't make them bite you," MacGyver 2.0 clarified, making Dennis huff in annoyance.

"Of all the superheroes, why would you want to be Spiderman?" Murdoc scoffed.

"Why not?" his MacGyver asked, surprised.

"I hate spiders."

"Who would you be?" Dennis demanded.

"Tony Stark," Murdoc said promptly. "If we were superheroes, the boyscout would be Captain America and they have that wonderful antagonism."

"I would not be Captain America," MacGyver denied, firmly.

"Of course, you would!" Murdoc argued. "All gold hair and righteousness."

"Please," MacGyver scoffed. "If I was a superhero, I would be...like, one of the X-men or something."

"Ooo, so you would be Professor X to my Magneto!"

"Okay, you know a lot more about comic books than I thought you would," MacGyver 2.0 told him.

"I have a ten-year-old son and Marvel movies are the rulers of cinema, right now," Murdoc pointed out, shrugging.

"You have a son? Who is he?" Dennis asked.

"His name is Cassian," Murdoc answered, earning twin glares from the MacGyvers.

"Like my Cassian?"

"Very similar, yes."

"Murdoc," MacGyver 1.0 sighed.

"What? More than one person can have the same name."

"I wanna go home," Dennis mourned, tugging at his dad's sleeve.

"Me, too, buddy, but we have to wait for Zarla to come back."

"She's bad."

"I know, but we don't know how to use her equipment."

"I see buttons."

"We don't know which ones to push."

"All of them!" Dennis insisted, jumping up, then screaming, "I want to go HOME!"

"Dennis, don't..." MacGyver 2.0 began, jumping up, but his tiny son moved amazingly fast.

Dennis reached Zarla's platform, pushing a series of buttons, before MacGyver caught up to him and snatched him away. Alarms squealed and the lights dimmed, then grew uncomfortably bright. The furniture disappeared and a slow trickle of water began running down one wall.

"Dennis," MacGyver scolded, his eyes narrowed to slits against the light.

Dennis covered his own eyes with his hands, sobbing, "I want to go home, Daddy. I want Mommy and Cassian and Uncle Jack..."

"I know, sweetheart, but we won't get home, if you destroy the place!"

"Why make bad buttons?"

"They're not bad. You just have to know what they do and when to press them."

"No. They're bad. My eyes hurt."

"Well, if you weren't a naughty boy, they wouldn't," Zarla snapped, appearing at her console.

"You need to shut up," Murdoc warned her, smiling slightly.

"I'm not naughty. I'm very little and I. Want. My. MOMMY!" Dennis yelled at her.

"I thought you wanted your daddy," Zarla sneered.

"Yeah. Daddy wants Mommy, too," Dennis said reasonably.

"Fine. I'm done with all of you. One and a half psychos and two saccharine golden boys," Zarla ranted, working to get her controls to reset. "This could have been fun! You could have cooperated, been intrigued by the science, asked questions about the other Murdocs and MacGyvers I observed, but nooo. You just whine and whine about being kidnapped and me waking up your brat!"

"That's enough, Zarla," MacGyver 1.0 warned her. "Don't push. You might remember Murdoc is an assassin."

"Oh, I'm pushing you. Right out the door!" Zarla huffed angrily, pushing a final few buttons.

The orange light surrounded Murdoc and MacGyver 1.0 , sending them home. Dennis clung to the remaining MacGyver's neck, whimpering.

"Oh, quit. I'm not a psycho. They're fine," Zarla reluctantly assured them.

A viewscreen appeared, showing Murdoc and MacGyver standing in a kitchen, looking relieved.

"I should have killed her," Murdoc said regretfully.

"No, you shouldn't have," MacGyver corrected, drily. "Our counterparts need her to get home."

"Well, that's an over-reaction," Zarla sulked, shutting down the screen.

"He's a sociopath and an assassin. You expected him to be reasonable?" MacGyver asked, almost amused.

"Your turn," Zarla said, ignoring him.

The orange light came and went and MacGyver and Dennis found themselves in their living room.

"Angus? Dennis? What's going on? I thought you were asleep," Nasha told Dennis, as MacGyver brought Dennis to her.

"There was a bad lady, Mommy!" Dennis cried, throwing himself into her arms and clinging.

"What?!"

"It's okay. I'll explain later," MacGyver promised her, leaning in and giving Nasha a kiss.

"Everything's okay?" Nasha asked, doubtfully, rubbing circles over Dennis' back.

"Yeah. Everything's fine," MacGyver promised. "We're home."

Or something like this could happen

MacGyver and Jack sneaked through the house. It was very similar to Mac's own house. The polar bear and horse ride were near the door. Shelves of interesting knick-knacks and weirdly useful things were everywhere. But, there were unmistakable signs of children living there. Well, that was alternate universes for you.

"Mac. Are you sure that thingy is gonna work?" Jack whispered, waving at the tablet-like device in MacGyver's hands.

"Yes, I'm sure. This thing can detect Murdoc's unique biochemical signature. It's the one thing that's the same, between different realities," MacGyver repeated.

"You got all that from studying a wormhole?!" Jack protested.

"No, I got that from a brilliant team of scientists that have spent decades studying wormholes."

"Yeah, okay, fine," Jack conceded. "But, what makes you think Murdoc is going to be here?"

"Two reasons," MacGyver said, annoyed, stopping on the staircase. "One, Murdoc definitely fell through the wormhole into this reality. It hadn't shifted, by the time we went through. Two, this thing is beeping steadily, which means he's definitely in this house. Somewhere."

"You don't gotta be snippety about it," Jack said, shrugging.

"Come on."

They went upstairs and heard the water running in the bathroom. Children's music could be heard, playing loudly inside.

"Okay, do we really want to know what that creepy bastard is doing?" Jack asked.

"Probably not," MacGyver admitted, walking over, then slowly and silently opening the door.

Inside, they found the shower curtain closed and steam rising from the top. MacGyver showed Jack the reading on his instrument, confirming it was Murdoc inside. While Jack got himself into a center position in front of the bathtub, MacGyver turned down the music and grabbed the shower curtain. The lower volume let MacGyver here a piping voice singing loudly behind the curtain. On a three count, MacGyver threw the shower curtain open.

A small child of no more than three gave a startled screech. The boy had black hair, brown eyes, and was completely covered in bubbles, from head to toe. Seeing MacGyver, the boy smiled, taking hold of the shower curtain himself.

"Excuse me, please," he said mildly, drawing the curtain back closed and singing again.

"What the..." Jack drawled.

The boy poked his head out the side of the curtain, along with a hand.

"Um. I woke up early from nap and decided to take shower. So, so, Mommy and Daddy don't have to give me bath later," he explained, waving his small hand in emphasis.

"Oh. Okay," MacGyver said, trying to sound unconcerned. "We'll, uh, leave you to that, then."

"Thank you."

MacGyver opened the bathroom door.

"Daddy? My music, please."

MacGyver didn't let himself react to being called daddy, but rolled his eyes and turned the music up a bit more. He walked out, shaking his head.

"Um, I got water in my ears? More, please!"

Jack gave a disbelieving chuckle, but turned the volume back up to almost it's original level.

"Thank you, Uncle Jack!"

Jack started, then quickly left the bathroom.

"What was that? The hell do we do now??"

"Someone has to be looking after him," MacGyver reasoned. "We find and talk to them."

"Yeah, okay, after you."

MacGyver led them back to the stairway.

Only to find a shorter-haired copy of himself coming up them.

The two MacGyver's stared at each other in shock.

"Um. Hey, Mac!" Jack greeted with false, uneasy cheer.

"Jack?"

"Yeah, um. Look. We came through a wormhole, chasing Murdoc..."

"He's an assassin in our universe," Jack chimed in helpfully.

"Yyeeeah, I know who Murdoc is," the resident MacGyver agreed.

"This thing was supposed to lead us to him," MacGyver explained, "but all we found was a small boy in your bathtub. Taking a shower."

"That would be Dennis. I was just coming up to check on him."

"Why did that thing think he was Murdoc, though?" Jack complained.

"Because, he is Murdoc," the resident MacGyver said, flatly, then shrugged. "Or, he used to be."

"Used to be," MacGyver repeated.

"Come downstairs and I'll explain."

The resident MacGyver led them into the living room. His Jack was there and gaped at the two visitors.

"Jack, meet yourself and another version of me. They took a trip through a wormhole and ended up here."

"Good to meet you," Jack said from his armchair, as they settled onto the couch.

"Okay, long story short: Murdoc got hit by meteorite fragments and ended up in a cocoon. He emerged a toddler, so I adopted him and Cassian. That was a year and a half ago."

"Wow. Okay," MacGyver agreed, letting that sink in a bit. "Thing is our reality's Murdoc is here somewhere and we need to find him and drag him home."

"No need," Murdoc assured them, coming to the living room from the direction of the front door. "I'm already here and can't think of any good reason to stay. Though, the idea of you raising a mini-me is absolutely hilarious."

"I'm glad that amuses you," the resident MacGyver told him, dryly, but with an odd amount of sincerity.

"We have another problem," MacGyver said, wearily. "We're stuck here for the next two hours. The wormhole has shut down. It closes randomly, but always stays closed for two hours and is always open for at least an hour afterwards."

"So now what?" Murdoc asked, annoyed.

"You all wait here. Everyone from the team is here, including Dad. We're having a barbecue later."

"Good. That means plenty of us to keep eyes on Doc."

"Ooo!" Murdoc gasped mockingly.

"Murdoc, practice being polite and charming. I'm sure you need to fool people, every once in a while," the resident MacGyver advised, smirking at him.

As they talked, Dennis came down the stairs, fully dressed, with Bark in his arms. He came into the living room and started, staring at the group of men.

"TWO daddies? Two Uncle Jacks and a stranger!" he told Bark, giving a grave nod.

"Yeah, this Uncle Jack and Mac are visiting from another reality. Um, that means..."

"Oh, I know that, Daddy!" Dennis assured him. "Like, when Spock had beard, but that Daddy and Uncle Jack don't have beards."

"Well, that's because we're not bad guys and you can tell us apart, because my hair is longer."

"Yeah, I can do that," Dennis agreed, nodding.

"Dennis," his dad said, sighing. "Buddy, you didn't get the soap out of your hair."

"Yes, I did," Dennis said hastily, backing up a couple of steps.

"I can see the soap."

"Th-that's not soap, Daddy!" Dennis argued, holding up his hand. "That's just a few, little bubbles!"

"The bubbles are made of soap," MacGyver explained, laughing a bit. "It's not good for your hair, buddy."

"No, they aren't!" Dennis protested. "Bubbles are good!"

"Jack," MacGyver prompted.

Smiling apologetically, Jack stood and scooped Dennis into his arms, ignoring his whine of protest.

"Excuse us a moment," the resident MacGyver said, heading for the kitchen.

"Nooo, this is not nec'ssary!" Dennis pleaded. "It's just bubbles."

"Sorry, Baby Doc," Jack soothed. "It's gotta be done."

"Hold him, face up, over the sink," MacGyver instructed.

Jack obeyed, grinning, when Dennis took and held a deep breath.

"You can breathe," MacGyver told him, chuckling. "I'm using the sprayer, so it shouldn't get in your face."

True to his word, MacGyver quickly took the remaining soap out of Dennis' hair, leaving his face dry. Grabbing a kitchen towel, he quickly dried Dennis, then nodded for Jack to lift him.

"There you go. You have soap-free hair."

"And, a wet shirt," Dennis sassed, indignant.

Chuckling, MacGyver went and grabbed a clean shirt from the dryer. He plucked Dennis' wet shirt off of him and replaced it with the dry one.

"There. No wet shirt, either."

"Hmmph," Dennis grunted, annoyed. "You took my bubbles, Daddy. I looked like mermaid!"

"Well, I'm sure your mommy can get some beads and stuff and make you something to help you with that."

"Yeah. Mommy is very good," Dennis agreed.

They went back and found their visitors had made their way out to the patio. MacGyver and Jack were chatting amiably with everyone, while Murdoc lurked on the edges, occasionally offering snarky commentary. He was disappointed that Cassian was spending time with a friend and wouldn't be home, until shortly before supper. Dennis ran around, playing and hanging on his family. After a while, James went inside to start his share of cooking dinner.

"Is he supposed to be doing that?" Murdoc asked suddenly.

MacGyver followed Murdoc's line of sight and found Dennis at the top of the wooden trellis, amongst all the lights. He sighed.

"Dennis. I don't mind you climbing up there, but you have to climb down, too."

"Aw, Daddy..."

"You can climb down or get an adult to help you."

"But..."

"Nope, those are your choices. I don't want you jumping."

"You hate heights!" Dennis accused, pointing his finger at his dad. "You do, Daddy."

"Why shouldn't I?" MacGyver asked, annoyed. "They keep trying to kill my youngest son."

Dennis gasped in sheer outrage.

"That is a NOT TRUTH!" he cried.

He started to say more, but then gave an angry huff and rapidly climbed down from the trellis.

"Heights are my FRIEND, Daddy. I'm gonna go tell Pah-pop you told me a NOT TRUTH!"

"Not truths are usually called lies," Murdoc offered, laughing, but that only seemed to make the small child even more furious.

"I know lies!" he shouted. "My daddy does not lie! He's just a silly what hates heights. So, I'm gonna tell my Pah-pop and he will 'splain to daddy that is a not truth!"

"Go ahead," MacGyver agreed, smiling. "He's in the kitchen, right now."

"Fine!" Dennis huffed, marching into the house.

"Well. You made him mad," Murdoc said, chuckling.

"Tell me something, Murdoc," MacGyver told him, annoyed. "How did you get to be an international assassin, when you have NO sense of self-preservation?"

"I developed one, as I grew up," Murdoc answered, with slow sarcasm.

"If I can't have honesty from you, can I at least have verisimilitude?" MacGyver countered, dryly. "That's the least believable lie you've ever told me."

"Oh? Well. I'll work on that for you, Boyscout."

"Thank you," MacGyver said, dryly.

James came back out onto the patio, gently holding Dennis' hand. Dennis looked down, sadly, his lips trembling. They stopped in front of MacGyver and James ran a gentle hand down the back of Dennis' head.

"Go on. Tell him," James encouraged.

Dennis sniffled, but obediently looked up.

"I'm sorry I said silly," he said, his voice breaking a bit. "You gotta be good daddy and keep me safe. And, um, I'm glad you're good daddy. I love you."

"Come here, buddy," MacGyver said, holding out his arms.

Dennis ran to him, letting himself be lifted, then burying his face in MacGyver's shoulder.

"Now it's my turn," James said, wryly. "Really? You told him that heights are trying to kill him? Son, what were you thinking?"

"Heights are my friend," Dennis protested weakly.

"Yeah, I know you love heights," MacGyver agreed, sighing. He kissed Dennis' cheek and smiled. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have said that. I just don't want you getting hurt."

"Yeah," Dennis said sadly.

"Maybe this weekend we can go to the public swimming pool and we can teach you how to go off the high dive," James suggested. "There are ways to enjoy heights that don't risk you getting a broken leg."

The visiting MacGyver was glad that Murdoc kept silent, not ruining the moment. Then, he remembered that Dennis was Murdoc. Was that little boy still buried somewhere in the assassin's heart?

"Yeah, I can swim!" Dennis told the visiting MacGyver.

"That's awesome," Jack answered. You're a clever little guy, aren'tcha?"

"I'm smart and strong!" Dennis agreed.

"Well, I'm glad we got to meet you," the visiting MacGyver said kindly. "But, the wormhole is open and it's time for us to go home."

"Oooh," Dennis sighed mournfully. "Okay."

"Bye, Baby Doc," Jack said, grinning.

They quickly said their good-byes and made their way home. Jack shook his head.

"What the hell, Murdoc? You were a cute little kid! What happened?"

"I grew up and learned about the world," Murdoc said, feigning indifference.

"Well, I'm glad one version of you got a second chance," MacGyver said, putting an end to the bickering.

"Of course you are, Boyscout," Murdoc responded, but it lacked the bite MacGyver had expected.

"Mac, you think you can find a way to aim a meteor at him?"

"No, Jack," MacGyver said, walking away.

"Please?"

"I literally can not."

"Well, then what are we gonna do about the Doc?"

"Try not to let him escape."

Jack turned to face Murdoc, but the small distraction had been enough and their nemesis was again on the loose.

Dennis is about two? It's not long after the adoption.

MacGyver came into the kitchen, his newspaper under his arm. The kitchen was empty and MacGyver sighed. He'd left Dennis at the table and his own morning cup of coffee on the table, just long enough to get the newspaper. Now, the child and cup were both gone. With a wry chuckle, telling himself he should have known better, MacGyver went searching for them.

Fortunately, it didn't take long to find Dennis and the drink. The patio door was shut, though MacGyver had opened it to catch the morning breeze. Opening it, MacGyver found Dennis sitting by the firepit, the cup clutched in his hands. Dennis sat, kicking his little feet in contentment, singing.

"Winnie a Pooh, Winnie a Pooh, snuggy, cuddly, huggy all stuffed with fluff,
I'm Winnie a Pooh, Winnie a Pooh, snuggly, huggly, cuddy ole bear!"

Grinning, MacGyver took out his cell phone and began recording, as Dennis paused in his singing to take a small sip of the hot coffee. The boy gave a dramatic shiver and blew forcefully on the liquid.

"Rabbit's busy pulling weeds, carrots so tall and sweet,
Kanga makes yummy cakes, Little Roo wants to eat!"

Chuckling, MacGyver recorded a few more seconds, then went back into the house. He fetched another cup of coffee from the kitchen, then hurried back to the patio. He sat down next to Dennis, who was blowing once more on his coffee.

"Can I join you?" MacGyver said teasingly.

"Yah. You sit me," Dennis agreed, snuggling into MacGyver's side and taking another careful drink.

MacGyver put an arm around Dennis, taking a healthy sip of his own drink. They sat quietly together, drinking and enjoying the peaceful quiet. A slight breeze brought the scent of flowers from their neighbor's garden. Dennis hummed softly, making small, endearing noises. Too soon, the cups were empty and Dennis handed his to MacGyver.

"Done, Daddy."

"Me, too," MacGyver agreed, cheerfully. "You ready for breakfast?"

"Eat? Yah. I eat!"

"Okay, c'mon," MacGyver picking his small son up.

Sure, the kid could walk, but why not get a little extra bonding in? Dennis seemed to agree, resting his head against MacGyver's cheek and humming happily. It was the best start to a day that MacGyver could imagine.

October 17th, 2019. 9 P.M.

Jack leaned back into the couch, next to Mac. He loved his best friend, but he wondered how Mac had convinced him to watch a marathon of the old Universal monster movies. Sure, they were classics, but Freddy and Jason were so much cooler. Shouldn't a horror flick show some blood. He envied Nasha, Riley, and Matty, who had gone to see some modern movie together, having a girls' night out. Though, he didn't remember them saying what they were planning to see.

Jack's musings were interrupted by Dennis stumbling down the stairs and into the living room. Standing in the middle of the room, the boy stopped and gave an annoyed huff.

"I'm not afraid of ghosties!" he announced, waving his hands. "I just gotta go potty."

Mac and Jack exchanged wry grins, Mac giving a small shrug.

"It's okay, Baby 'doc," Jack assured him. "You go potty."

"Yah. You listen to Uncle Jack and I go potty," Dennis agreed, resuming his trek to the bathroom.

"Well, okay then," Mac observed, chuckling.

"I'll tell you what, no ghosts better try and have a chat with me. They won't like what they hear."

They heard water run for a short time, then Dennis came back into the living room, yawning widely. With a weary whine, Dennis walked over to Mac, crawling into his lap, then resting against his chest. Mac reached down and kissed the boy's head. Dennis sat back up and gazed solemnly at his daddy.

"It's okay, Daddy," Dennis promised. "I never let ghosties get you. I love you."

"I love you, too, buddy. Don't worry about ghosts. C'mon, let's get you back to bed."

October 17th. 4:12 P.M.

Cassian sat at the kitchen table, drawing a ghost. The ghost hovered outside a house, in front of its door. Cassian tried to make the ghost seem translucent, with a carved pumpkin visible behind it. Dennis climbed into the chair next to him and looked at the picture, frowning. He held Bark over the paper, then gave him a knowing nod. Cassian gasped, when Dennis snatched his pencil away, throwing it to the ground.

"NO!" Dennis shouted, sternly. "My Cassian's not drawing you any doors! We got doors. You don't need any."

"Who are you talking to?" Cassian asked, laughing in disbelief.

"Ghosties," Dennis answered reasonably, then shook his finger at Cassian. "Don't draw no doors, Cassian. Not on walls, because Mommy and Daddy'll be mad!"

"I'm not going to draw on the walls and I won't make doors for ghosts to use," Cassian promised, indulgently. "Now, give me my pencil back."

"You promise?" Dennis challenged.

"Yes, I promise! Give me my pencil!"

Dennis hopped down, fetching the pencil and handing it back.

"Okay! See? My Cassian is good boy!" Dennis declared, proudly. "No more doors!"

Rolling his eyes, Cassian watched Dennis scurry off with Bark towards the living room. Silly kid.

5:30 P.M.

"Your youngest is being weird again," Cassian told MacGyver, as soon as he was comfortable, after getting home.

"Oh? What did he do now?"

"He keeps going on about ghosts and them not needing doors. He's talking to them too."

"Okay, the door thing is new. Did he catch you or Jack watching a horror movie?" MacGyver asked.

"I don't think so. I haven't watched any ghost movies lately."

"Well, it's probably just because Halloween is coming."

"I hope so. I wouldn't want to live in a haunted house," Cassian teased.

"Our house isn't haunted," Dennis told him, coming into the living room.

"Oh? I thought you had been talking to ghosts," MacGyver said, mildly.

"Yeah, I talk to ghosties. They're neighbors."

"Uh huh. Where do the ghosties live?" Cassian demanded.

"Cassian. Ghosties're dead."

"Where are they haunting, then," Cassian repeated, rolling his eyes.

"Down the street. In the spooky house with rose bushes."

"I don't think that house is spooky," MacGyver protested. "It's a pretty, little place."

"Yeah, it's pretty, but it's spooky. It has ghosties."

"Um, okay. Did you go over there?" MacGyver asked, concerned.

"No. Annie asked, but no. Some older ghosties don't like me."

"Why don't they like you?" Cassian asked, a bit indignant.

"I'm alive. They just want to haunt. They don't want living peoples."

"Oh," Cassian said, not sure what to say.

"Yeah. They don't like me? Then, I don't like them," Dennis asserted, stubbornly.

"Fair enough," MacGyver agreed. "I think we should just leave them to haunt in peace."

"Yeah, Annie can play here. She is friend."

"Is Annie a child?" Cassian asked, feeling a bit sad for her.

"Yeah, but she's super smart. Like me!"

"Right," MacGyver laughed. "That's pretty smart."

"Yeah."

October 21st. 1 P.M.

Dennis sat in the Phoenix conference room, coloring at the table. Matty was watching over him for a few hours, while Mac was away on a mission and Nasha was away at a teachers' meeting. Matty was in her office, doing paperwork and occasionally coming out to check on him. Dennis got up and poked his head into her office.

"Aunt Matty, I gotta go potty."

"All right, go on. Tell me, when you get back."

"Okay. I'm leaving Bark on the table."

"Mmhmm. Okay, sweetheart."

Dennis went to the bathroom, coming back shortly. He went back to the table and frowned.

Bark was gone.

Dennis looked under the table and in the seats of all the chairs, beginning to panic. He'd left Bark at the table! He'd even told Aunt Matty! Going back to the table, Dennis noticed a drawing...one he hadn't done. It was a picture of Bark, floating over the house with the rosebushes. A stick figure girl was in one window of the house, her hand raised in greeting.

Annie! Annie had Bark!

Furious, Dennis grabbed a black crayon and dragged a chair over to the wall. Standing on the back, he began drawing a door.

"Annie! You give me my Bark! You're not being good friend!" Dennis shouted, hopping down to draw the edges of the door all the way to the carpet.

He knocked three times on the door and it opened. Dennis ran through.

"ANNIE! I want my BARK!"

"Dennis? Who are you screaming at, young man?" Matty asked, coming into the conference room.

Seeing the new door, she froze, for a brief moment. Grabbing her phone, Matty sent a quick text to Riley and Bozer, ordering them to the conference room. A cool breeze blew from the other side of the door to where Matty was standing. Walking forward, she peered cautiously through the door. She could see dusty furniture and a cold fireplace. Above the fireplace was a dirty mirror that seemed to shimmer unnaturally.

"Matty?"

Matty jumped at Riley's voice, making her and Bozer both pull back in fear.

"Whoa!" Bozer exclaimed, eyes wide, as he spotted the door. "Matty? Where did that come from?"

"I don't know, Bozer, but I'm certain that Dennis went into that room, but I can't see him now."

"He's been talking about ghosts all month," Riley pointed out, horrified.

"I know. Have either of you two heard him mention someone named Annie? I heard him yelling, about her taking Bark."

"Yeah, that would definitely get him moving."

"Annie might have bitten off more than she can chew," Bozer said, dryly.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Bozer, I want you to stay here. If Mac or Jack calls, try and find out, if they have any information..."

"Matty, why don't Bozer and I just go look?" Riley said, kindly. "We got this."

"No. This happened on my watch. I'm going, too. Bozer can manage things, while we're gone, which will hopefully only be a few minutes."

"No problem, Matty. Everything'll be fine. If anything goes too wrong, I'll get hold of Oversight."

"I really don't want to tell my boss that I lost his grandson, but...yeah. Do what's necessary, Bozer. Riley, let's go."

Riley and Matty stepped warily through the door, shivering at the sudden temperature drop. Dennis was nowhere in sight, but Riley saw his footprints in the thick layer of dust that covered the carpet. The room was some sort of sitting room, filled with comfortable chairs.

"Where do you think we are?"

"I don't know," Matty said, shrugging, "but Dennis isn't in this room."

"I really, really hate to say this, but..."

"We split up, I know," Matty agreed, sighing. "I hate it, too, but we need to find Dennis as soon as possible. You go left, I go right."

"Right."

Grimacing, Riley marched out the room's natural door, heading left and deeper into the house. She shivered. The place definitely had a haunted vibe. Weird shadows clung to the walls, where there shouldn't have been any. The house's furnishings were antique, tasteful, and terribly decayed. Mirrors hung crookedly on the walls, in heavy, ornate frames. Riley ignored the mirrors and the other things she saw moving out the corners of her eyes. She didn't care about the ghosts. Her mission was to find Dennis and get back to the Phoenix. Her resolved lasted, until she found the kitchen, where blood leaked out of the refrigerator door.

Fresh blood.

Shivering and swallowing hard, Riley approached the refrigerator, dread and anger building in her. Reaching out a shaking hand, she yanked the door open. Bowls, jars, and cups filled the refrigerator, all of them spilling over with blood. Flies and cockroaches feasted on the gore. Riley forced herself to swallow past her gag reflex, carefully shutting the door again. Taking a deep breath, she forced aside her instinct to stay quiet.

"Dennis!!" she shouted, as loud as she could manage.

The sound was weirdly muffled, not seeming to travel past the kitchen, but she still heard a response.

"Aunt Riley?"

The words came from a second door across from the one she had entered. Riley went through the door and found herself at the bottom of a staircase. Running up the stairs, Riley discovered a hallway filled with open doors. Dennis appeared in the closest one on her left.

"What are you doing here?" Dennis asked, puzzled.

"What am I doing here??" Riley squawked. "Dennis, what are you doing here? Where are we?"

"This is a haunted house. I'm looking for Bark."

"Yeah, Matty said she heard you yelling at someone."

"Annie. She took Bark, so I would come," Dennis complained.

"Rude, but we can't stay here, kiddo. We need to go back."

"NO!" Dennis insisted, angrily. "Not without my Bark!"

"If we go back, Matty and I can get Bark for you."

"Aunt Riley, I can't. Bark is family."

"Okay, fine. Ten minutes, Dennis. If we don't find him by then, we go looking for Matty."

"Okay," Dennis said, mournfully. "He's not in there, though."

"Right. So, let's check the next room."

"ANNIE! I got ten minutes! You are not being good friend!" Dennis shouted, as he came out into the hallway.

A small girl, looking about nine years old, appeared in a doorway at the other end of the hall. She held Bark in her hands, looking sad.

"I wasn't being mean. I just wanted you to come play," she said, sulking.

"Yeah, well, if you wanna play, arrange a play date," Riley snapped.

"We can't play here," Dennis said, taking Bark back. "Other ghosties don't let me."

"They won't do anything, if we're quiet."

"Hey. Don't be teaching him to sneak around," Riley scolded.

Annie glared at Riley, her mouth tightening.

"Not everyone can see me, you know. Not even most children."

"I'm sorry, but we can't help that, especially if your family objects."

"You can still come over," Dennis offered.

"Okay," Annie agreed, deflating. "I'm sorry I took Bark."

"Good. Now, we gotta get out of here."

"Bye, Annie."

"Bye."

Annie faded away and Riley steered Dennis back down the hallway. They were halfway down, when a tall, skeletal man appeared in front of them. Snow-white hair fell just past his shoulders and his gray eyes gleamed from deep in their sockets. His gray lips were pulled back from his decaying teeth in a rigid grin.

"Well, well. Uninvited guests," he hissed.

"Yeah, sorry for the intrusion. We're leaving," Riley asserted, frowning.

"Ohhhh. Noooooo. It's far too late for that," the ghost crooned.

"Annie took my Bark!" Dennis scolded. "I hadta come get him."

"And, now, you will stay."

"Nuh uh. You can't make me."

"Can't I?

"No. If you do, my Uncle Jack will get you."

"Will he?"

"Yeah, he is fierce," Dennis boasted, holding up his hands and curling them into claws.

The ghost cackled, growing in size, until his white hair, long now and floating away from him, touched the ceiling. His mouth extended, revealing sharp rows of fangs. Instead of legs, his bottom half ended in gory rags, dripping blood onto the floor. Dennis blinked, making a yuck face.

"Um. I'm not afraid of ghosties," Dennis said, shrugging. "And, you are making mess."

"Dennis, I don't think you should sass him," Riley whispered, freaking out, as the ghost floated closer, a chill, dank wind coming from him.

"But, Aunt Riley, he is making a slippy mess!" Dennis insisted. "Watch!"

Dennis ran forward, heading towards the largest pool of blood. Riley gave a small screech, darting forward and grabbing him back.

"Dennis! Kid. Let's stay out of the blood, okay? He's not a slip and slide. Think of what that would do to your shoes."

"Okay, but he's being a silly."

"I could consume you in one gulp."

"That's yucky."

"Look, we're going, right now. Take it up with Annie," Riley advised.

"Are you? Without the young one?"

"What?? Hell, no..." Riley began, angrily, but the hallway began spinning crazily.

When it stopped, Riley and the ghost were both gone.

"HEY! You gimme back MY AUNT RILEY!" Dennis screamed, furious.

No one answered and he stormed off, heading down the staircase. When he reached the bottom, the wall across from him disappeared and a long, dark tunnel appeared. Dennis watched, wide-eyes and intrigued. To his delight, a long black train appeared at the end of the tunnel, hurtling towards him. The train was coal black, with a long chimney stack, spewing flames. Dennis took another step forward, awed at the beautiful sight. The train's windows glinted, the glass appearing black, but translucent. Dennis could just make out figures, weird and wonderful, dancing around inside.

The train rushed right for him, putting Dennis in danger of being crushed beneath its wheels. Excited, Dennis ran a short way back up the stairs, then turned, jumping onto the back of one of the train's carriages, as it passed. He landed on the platform...only to find himself back on the stairs, the train and the tunnel both gone, replaced by an ordinary wall.

Dennis' face crumpled and he sat down, crying heavily, his face wet and red.

"Dennis?"

Dennis looked up, still sobbing, to see his Aunt Matty hurrying towards him.

"Aunt Matty!"

"Dennis, are you all right?" Matty asked, sitting next to him on the stairs.

"No. Ghosties are very mean!" he sobbed.

"What did they do to you?" Matty asked, anger entering her voice.

"They had a train. It was beautiful, Aunt Matty!" Dennis stressed, shaking his head. "It came to me, right where I was! I jumped on. Then, it was gone! I didn't get even tiny train ride!"

Dennis broke off, sobbing.

"Oh, sweetheart," Matty sighed, rubbing his back.

"They made me very sad in my heart!" Dennis complained, resting against her.

"I'm sure they did and I'm sorry," Matty agreed, a touch of sternness coming into her voice. "But, let me ask you something. Where was that train going?"

"It didn't go. It went away."

"Where did you think it was going, though?"

"Um. I don't know," Dennis admitted. "I thought ghosties were just giving ride."

"You tried to take a ride on a ghost train?" MacGyver asked, coming from the sitting room, with Jack in tow.

"Yeah, but they took the train away!"

"Baby 'doc, what were you thinking?" Jack asked, appalled. "Look, you know how you say, 'you never know with a stranger'? Well, that goes double for ghosts!"

"Two times for ghosties?" Dennis asked, amazed.

"Definitely," MacGyver agreed, picking Dennis up and cuddling him a bit, but keeping his tone firm. "You never go in any vehicle, train, truck, or anything else, unless we know and know where it is going."

"Yes, Daddy," Dennis agreed, sadly. "But, it was beautiful train."

"I know. And, maybe we can arrange a train trip. But, right now, we need to get back to the Phoenix. Bozer told us what happened and we came to get you."

"They took Aunt Riley, too," Dennis sulked. "They took Bark, then my Aunt Riley, then the train. They're mean ghosties."

"For mercy's sake, this has gone on enough."

Dennis and his family looked towards the sitting room, finding a middle-aged woman, dressed in the matronly garb of a woman from the nineteenth century. She looked almost normal, except she was utterly colorless. She smiled sadly at Dennis.

"I'm sorry. The train was meant to frighten you, not make think you were getting a ride."

"I'm not scared," Dennis told her, shaking his head.

"Yes, we noticed," she agreed, laughing. "Here comes Miss Riley."

Riley appeared at the top of the stairs, glaring around her.

"Hey, girl. Get down here!" Jack ordered.

"Now, please, leave. I don't mean to be inhospitable, but there are rules. Annie knows better than to introduce herself, like that. There are plenty of ghost children for her to play with."

"We're sorry for the intrusion," MacGyver told her, cooly. "We'll be leaving."

"It's all right. I apologize for my grandfather. He always goes too far."

"Why can't Annie and me be friends?" Dennis demanded.

"Because, dear, we ghosts are far too old and see far too much to intermix with the living. Our time is done and you must not cling to the past, by clinging to us. You must cling to each other and hope for the best."

Dennis blinked at her, then shrugged.

"I don't know that."

"There are living children who need you to be their friend."

"Oh."

"How do we close that very unwelcome door in my conference room?" Matty demanded.

"Simply erase it. Dennis can probably do that best, since he drew the door."

MacGyver chuckled.

"Good-bye, ma'am."

"Good-bye."

Matty marched them back into the conference room, then found and handed Dennis an eraser.

"All right, young man. From now on, you only draw on paper and you leave it to me and my team to do rescue missions. Yes?"

"Yes, Aunt Matty," Dennis agreed, taking the eraser, then scrubbing at the wall. "I still want that train."

"I wouldn't worry about it. The way your Pah-pop spoils you, I imagine you'll get a train trip sooner, rather than later," MacGyver assured him, tousling his hair.

"Yeah! My pah-pop will help me! And, no ghosties!"

7 A.M New Year's Day

MacGyver lounged in bed, leaning up against the headboard, with Nasha nestled beside him. They were sharing the morning's newspaper, trading sections back and forth. Savoring the rare morning of leisure, Nasha had turned on their alarm clock's radio. The presence of music had been more than enough to pull Dennis into their room, dragging Bark and a wooden box of animal jigsaw puzzles. Sitting at the end of the bed, he cheerfully tried to pound the head of an ape onto the body piece of a crocodile. Nasha laughed, but didn't interfere. Dennis knew the pieces didn't fit and she knew Dennis would give up soon enough.

"...I'm starting with the man in the mirror..."

"There's a man in the MIRROR?!" Dennis squawked, shocked. "I wanna see!"

He hopped off the bed, running into the attached bathroom. Mac and Nasha exchanged wry glances, laughing lightly. They heard Dennis singing along with the song, carefully listening for running water or any other warning sounds.

"Dennis, he's talking about his own reflection!" MacGyver called to him, hoping the boy would grow bored and come back.

"...if you wanna make world better place, take a look at yourself and make that CHANGE!" Dennis sang loudly, not responding.

MacGyver rolled his eyes, grabbing the comics section, now that he was done with sports.

"Well, okay," Dennis proclaimed, staring hard into his own eyes, as he balanced on the bathroom sink. "You heard singer! You are in mirror, so I gotta start with you! But, Aunt Matty says I gotta ask nice. She says don't be bossy. I'm not really bossy. I just say things to my Cassian, to be a good helper! But, we gotta decide!"

Dennis pounded his fist into his other hand, pressing his lips together.

"Make changes? Make world better?" he challenged.

He nodded strongly, smiling when his reflection mimicked him.

"OKAY! We're gonna. First change is...we gotta change our underwear," Dennis admitted, shrugging. "Mommy left us out Iron Man! Okay? Okay, good talk."

Dennis hopped down from the bathroom sink and ran off to his room, not stopping long enough to witness MacGyver and Nasha collapsed against each other, laughing.

"Happy New Year's," Nasha told Mac, placing a brief kiss on his lips.

"Yes, it is," MacGyver agreed, warmly. "Does that count as a resolution?"

"Only if he makes a habit of it, without me nagging him!"

"I guess time will tell."

Chuckling, MacGyver returned his wife's kiss. Without breaking contact, Nasha gathered up the scattered sections of the newspaper, dumping them on her bedside table. They spent a few minutes simply kissing and cradling each other. MacGyver hummed with pleasure, skimming his fingertips over her waist.

"Hmm, touch me, love," Nasha encouraged, running her own hand over his hip and back.

They were both too involved in loving each other to notice Dennis come back into the room, MacGyver's phone in his hand.

"You're daddy's friend?" Dennis asked, pausing and listening. "Wellll, I don't know you...you were at the wedding? I don't remember you."

"I do love you," MacGyver whispered, oblivious to Dennis' presence, reaching up under the t-shirt Nasha had worn to bed and cupping her breast.

"Yeah, he's awake. He's touching Mommy's booby."

MacGyver and Nasha jerked apart, turning to stare at Dennis, standing a couple of feet away. Dennis froze, his eyes widening at his parents' alarmed expressions.

"Dennis. Who are you talking to?" MacGyver asked, trying and failing to sound calm.

"Not know!" he yelped, throwing the phone at them, before turning and fleeing the room.

MacGyver groaned, picking up the phone. He placed it to his ear, not sure if he should be comforted or not by the laughter he heard on the other end.

"Hello?" he asked warily.

"Hello, Mac," Charlie greeted, then stopped, laughing too hard to continue.

"Charlie!" MacGyver exclaimed, relieved.

"I'm going to go comfort Dennis," Nasha whispered, giggling.

MacGyver grinned at her, nodding. Smirking, Nasha gave him one more kiss, before leaving the bedroom. She checked Dennis' bedroom, but found it empty. She could faintly hear the television going in the living room and headed there next. Approaching, she saw Cassian sitting on the couch. Dennis was pacing in front of him.

"I can't believe you said that," Cassian said, grinning wildly.

"Said what? They're mommy and daddy. Sometimes, mommies and daddies touch boobies," Dennis insisted.

"You're too young to know that," Cassian sighed. "And, anyways, you still can't just tell people things like that. Mom and Dad deserve privacy!"

"I don't know that," Dennis admitted.

"It means Charlie doesn't need to know what Angus and I do. It's something that should stay between me and your daddy," Nasha explained, gently. "It's all right, though. Come here, darling."

Dennis obeyed, letting Nasha pick him up.

"Telling is bad? Daddy says tell the truth."

"Well, yes, you should be honest, but some things don't need to be said," Nasha explained, kissing his forehead.

"Mmmmm, that sounds fake."

Cassian laughed hard, glad he didn't have to reason with Dennis. Nasha just smiled broadly, shaking her head.

"Well, in a way. It's a rule people made up to help us live together nicely."

"Not telling is nicer?"

"Sometimes."

"Sooomeetimes," Dennis drawled, his eyes wide, as he shrugged. "O-kay."

"Come on, you," Nasha said, teasing. "Now that you've changed your underwear, let's make another good change and get you dressed."

"Two changes?!" Dennis said, sprawling dramatically across her shoulder. "Oh, boy."

"The man in the mirror will thank you."

"He's a silly."

"If you say so, darling," Nasha agreed, carrying him off.

Dennis is two. Nasha and Mac aren't married yet. I'm sorry, Bozer, but I have to.

Bozer had his eyes shut, so he didn't really know what time it was. The heavy lethargy of his limbs and the persistent blackness of his room, even through shut eyes, told him it was very early in the morning. If he held very still, perhaps the warm weight creeping across his legs and stomach to settle on his chest would get bored and go back to bed.

"Uncle Bo-zshr," a piping voice sing-songed, in a loud whisper, before giggling.

No such luck, then. Reluctantly, Bozer pried his eyelids open, only to give a squeak of terror. An infamous figure with hollow eyes floating above painted pink cheeks, surrounded by a mass of white curls, loomed above him. The intruder gave an answering, startled squawk, rearing backward hard enough to almost go flying off the bed. Bozer just managed to catch him, then pulled the George Washington mask off.

"Dennis!" Bozer protested, breathing heavily.

Dennis scooted closer again, taking back the mask.

"I find, Bozshr. I find Georgie!"

"Yeah, you did," Bozer agreed, drily. "Why do you like that thing so much?"

"It's Georgie! I like Georgie."

"Yeah, but why??"

"Because, I..." Dennis trailed off, putting the mask back on, instead of answering in words.

Bozer warily glanced at his alarm clock, which announced that it was 4:47 a.m. He gave a weary chuckle.

"Great. Can we play with Georgie more in the morning?"

"No? Play w' Georgie! Mine!"

"Uh-huh. I really should've tossed that thing," Bozer said, shaking his head.

"Toss? I toss Georgie!" Dennis agreed, taking off the mask and throwing it in the air.

Bozer caught the mask as it came down, huffing in annoyance.

"Hey! It took a lot of hours and talent to make that thing."

"Make? You did?"

"Yeah, I did!"

"You make Georgie?"

"Yes, I made this," Bozer agreed, with a small laugh, glad that Dennis hadn't remembered that.

"Ooooo, pretty!" Dennis proclaimed, impressed all over again.

"I'm glad you like it, but it's still too early for you to be up."

"Up!"

"Not for long," Bozer promised, wrapping his arms around Dennis and struggling into a standing position.

"I go?"

"Yeah, you're going back to bed."

"Go bed? No!"

"Yes. You can keep Georgie with you," Bozer reluctantly offered. "But, you need more sleep."

"Sleep here? Me 'n Georgie?"

"No, you have your own bed!"

Bozer carried Dennis to his room and settled him against his pillows.

"Noooo," Dennis whined, holding his arms out to Bozer. "Stay me! Give huggles!"

Bozer rolled his eyes, but sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Fine, c'mere."

Dennis wiggled back into Bozer's arms, nestling against his chest, clutching Georgie close.

"Don't you think Bark will get jealous of you clinging to that thing?" Bozer asked, hopefully.

"Nooo. Bark loves Georgie."

"Figures. Go to sleep," Bozer instructed, cuddling Dennis close.

Dennis clung to him, gripping the George mask tightly.

"Uncle Bozshr? You mad me?"

"Nope. Just sleepy...just like you!"

"Oh. 'kay. You sleep?"

"As soon as I know you aren't going to go wandering off and terrorize anyone else with that thing."

"Yeah, 'm scary!"

"You have no idea."

Saturday 2 P.M. Jack is hanging out. Amanda hasn't been born yet.

"Uncle Jack, I need you!" Dennis protested, hurrying into the kitchen. "I've been looking!"

"Well, I'm right here," Jack assured him. "What's up, Baby Doc?"

"Why are you in here, when I am gonna be a zombie?!"

"You're going to become a zombie?"

Jack tried not to laugh, watching Dennis huff, his small hands resting in fists on his hips. Nasha couldn't contain her chuckles, turning and pouring herself more coffee to hide her reaction.

"Yeah! And...and I'm gonna try'n EAT Daddy's brains! He has lots of brains, Uncle Jack."

"That's certainly true."

"Yeah, so you gotta come save him."

"You want me to save him, huh?"

"Yeah! I don't want Daddy to not have brains. So, you let me be zombie, then you come save him."

"Well, all right, Baby Doc. You go be a zombie and I'll be there in a bit."

"Okay!"

Jack watched Dennis run off, then gave a hearty laugh.

"My little supervillain," Nasha said, "though I think he just lost his villain card."

"It works for me. I wish more bad guys would arrange their own defeats."

Dennis ran back to where Mac, Riley, Matty, and Nasha were sitting and talking. Mac sat next to Nasha on the couch, leaning back with one hand resting on his wife's leg. Seeing him, Dennis hunched over, contorting his face, with his tongue hanging out.

"Raaagghh, ooooogg, bleeeerrrk," Dennis grunted, climbing up the arm of the couch.

"Dennis, what are you doing?" MacGyver asked, laughing.

"Uh, Daddy!" Dennis protested, a bit hurt. "I'm a zombie. Can't you see?"

"Well, I'm sorry, but I've never seen a real zombie before."

"Well, I am, so I gotta eat your brains," Dennis explained, continuing up onto the back of the couch.

"I don't know. I have a pretty thick skull."

"Yeah, and hair, too, blegh," Dennis said, chewing on a small piece of it.

"Oh, Dennis, that's gross," MacGyver protested, pulling away a bit.

"Yeah, blurrg, arrggh, chomp chomp."

MacGyver pulled forward a bit, but Dennis moved with him, wrapping himself around MacGyver's shoulders and the back of his head. MacGyver tried to grab Dennis, but couldn't get a good angle. Fortunately, Dennis had stopped chewing on his daddy's hair, finding it yucky. He settled for bouncing on his dad's shoulders and dragging fingers through his dad's hair.

"Dennis...c'mon, buddy, give me a break."

"No Dennis. ZOMbieeee urrrrggghhhh," Dennis moaned, then leaned forward, whispering, "but Uncle Jack will help."

"What?"

Jack chose that moment to come in from the kitchen, sipping on a soda.

"Now, see, I go to the kitchen for five minutes and you get yourself attacked by a zombie."

"Grruuuuck. BLurrrrrrgghhhhhh."

"Yeah, that's me. Prone to all sorts of dangers," MacGyver said, grunting as Dennis bounced on the joint of his shoulder. "Gimme a hand?"

"I guess I better. You're gonna need those brains later."

Jack set his soda down on the coffee table and came up in front of MacGyver. Deftly, he expertly plucked Dennis from MacGyver's shoulders, wincing a bit, when the child let out a long, sharp moaning. Jack turned Dennis upside down, holding him by one ankle. Dennis clawed lightly at the air, rolling his eyes and trying to choke down giggles.

"What do you think I should do with this monster? Can't have zombies running around."

"I don't know. He's only a little monster. How about if the zombie meets the tickle monster?" MacGyver said, reaching around and tickling Dennis' tummy.

Dennis squirmed, turning his laughter into zombie gurgles.

"Yeah, I guess we could keep him, but what are we going to feed him?"

"Braaaiinnnsssss."

"Baby Doc, do you remember when we went to the grocery store and you got introduced to head cheese?"

"Dennis ate head cheese?" Nasha asked, astonished, coming into the living room and sitting next to MacGyver.

"Aw, hell no. The boy took one look at the stuff and declared it evil."

"ALL THE YUCK!"

Jack lifted Dennis upright, setting him on his feet.

"Now, what kind of zombie turns down good, yucky meat? That's what brains are all about!"

"Um...I like pepperonis."

"Nah, pepperonis aren't good zombie food. Ya gotta have something gooey and...chunky!"

"Jack!" MacGyver protested, but Jack just laughed.

"Chunnky?" Dennis repeated slowly, grimacing. "Um, how about...RUN!"

Dennis took off running, with Jack close behind.

"Aw, you better run, you little zombie wannabe!"

"Should I tell them not to run in the house?"

"Would either of them listen?"

Dennis headed back into the living room, Jack close behind, with arms held out wide, comically grasping toward the small, giggling boy. Finally, Jack scooped Dennis up, swinging him around.

"And, Jack Wyatt Dalton wins, defeating Zombie Boy! Rahhhhh!"

"Awwwwwwww. No more zombie! I'm Dennis!"

"Nuh uh. You're gonna be a zombie boy and eat some yucky meat. I bet I could talk Bozer into whipping up some liver and onions."

"Pppppbbbtt. Nuh uh."

"Yuh huh."

"Liver and onions. Gyaaaahh. Go away," Dennis ordered, sprawling face-up across Jack's chest.

"You go away," Jack countered, mussing up Dennis's hair.

Giggling again, Dennis turned to face Jack, placing his hands on Jack's shoulders, pulling on him.

"Go away."

"You go away," Jack said, again, putting his hands on Dennis' waist and making small, gentle, shaking motions from side to side.

"No, you go away!"

"They'd both be devastated, if the other went away," MacGyver observed drily.

"Yes, they would," Nasha agreed. "I don't think our little zombie is ready to say bye to his Uncle Jack."

"No, no bye!" Dennis cried, releasing Jack's shoulders and throwing his arms around his neck.

"Aww, I'm not going anywhere, Baby 'Doc," Jack assured him, hugging him tightly.

"No, you stay here with me," Dennis agreed, nodding confidently.

8:42 P.M.

Jack watched in amusement as Dennis pretended to be a spaceship, scolding any tie fighters or x-wings that he imagined getting in his way. The boy's cruising through space was slowing down, though. When the space battle ended, Dennis climbed up on the couch next to Jack. Jaw open wide, Dennis let out a long yawn, drawing chuckles from his parents and brother.

"Damn, Baby 'Doc."

"I'm not tired, Uncle Jack!" Dennis assured him hastily.

"You're not?"

"N-no, no, I just have a few, little yawns stuck in my throat."

Dennis backed up his words with an earnest, little nod. Jack winked at him, nodding sagely.

"I hear ya, Baby 'Doc. Why don't you come sit with me. We'll watch the rest of the movie and you can work on getting those yawns out of your throat."

"Yeah," Dennis agreed, climbing onto Jack's lap and resting against his chest.

By the time the credits rolled, Dennis was a boneless heap, snoring into Jack's shoulder.

Dennis is almost three. Mac and Nasha are already married, but not yet expecting.

Dennis trailed after Jack, who had accepted babysitting duty. Mac was busy at the Phoenix's labs, giving Jack the day off. Nasha had started working for an elementary school. Jack didn't mind. He figured the kid needed at least one person influencing him, who knew what cool was. Right now, Jack had taken Dennis shopping, wanting some new speakers for his television.

Dennis was a little bored by all the TVs, stereos, and cables. But, Uncle Jack had promised him ice cream later, so he toddled along, talking to Bark. He was interrupted by a high, sweet voice.

"...little birds, show them you care, and you'll be glad, if you do..."

Dennis immediately changed course, abandoning Jack and heading for the voice. He discovered the long row of display televisions. On them, a woman in a white shirt and dark skirt sang to a couple of children. She was beautiful, with large blue eyes and dark hair. Her voice...her song was magical. Dennis edged closer to the televisions, their images blotting out the rest of reality.

"All around the cathedral, the saints and apostles look down as she sells her wares. Although you can't see them, you know they are smiling, each time someone shows that he cares..."

Dennis nodded, perfectly willing to agree with anything the pretty lady said or sang.

"Hey, Baby Doc! What are you doing?" Jack asked, gruffly. "Don't just go wandering off!"

"Jack! Look!"

"Ah, Mary Poppins!" Jack said, nodding. "Gotta love the classics."

"Mary? Mary Poppins," Dennis echoed, his eyes still fixed on her.

"Come on, Baby Doc. We gotta go."

"No. Mary! She's singing!"

Sighing, Jack went to the DVD racks, grabbing not only the first movie, but the new sequel.

"Come on. We'll finish watching at home," Jack said, picking Dennis up.

Dennis took the movies, hugging them to his chest, watching the screen, as long as they were in sight.

Two hours and a couple of ice cream sundaes later, Jack sat on his couch, more amused by Dennis, than the movie. The small boy stood nearby, his full attention on the screen. Jack watched as Mary and Bert danced with penguins, expecting Dennis to start dancing and singing, too.

Instead, Dennis burst into tears, sobbing loudly. Quickly, he walked over, stabbing the off button with his finger, before collapsing onto the floor. Jack stared in shock, for a brief moment, then got up. He knelt down in front of Dennis, tapping his shoulder gently.

"Hey, now, Baby Doc. Whatsamatter? Why the waterworks?"

Dennis shook his head violently, his cheeks already utterly wet with tears.

"I can't."

"Can't what?"

"Watch. She's gonna."

Dennis pressed his hands to his eyes, trying to breathe through his sobs.

"Gonna what? Talk to me, kiddo."

"She's gonna kiss him."

"Oh. You don't want them to kiss? How come?"

"She's gonna marry him. He's so good!"

Dennis took a deep breath, then looked up at Jack, with bright, sad eyes.

"I don't want her to marry him. I want her to marry me."

"You want to marry Mary Poppins?" Jack asked gently, forcing himself to not laugh.

Dennis nodded, sniffling.

"Well, I got good news for you, Baby Doc. They don't kiss."

"No?" Dennis asked, amazed, the tears slowing.

"Nope. There's no kissing in this movie. Not even Mr. and Mrs. Banks."

"Well. They're allowed," Dennis admitted, wrinkling his nose.

"Yeah, being married and all. But, Mary doesn't marry Bert."

"Then she can marry me!"

"Yeah, you can marry her, if you want. Why do you want to marry her?"

"Because she's so pretty and she sings so sweet," Dennis said softly, looking down. He lifted his head, pointing firmly at Jack. "She is praticaly perfect in every way."

Jack laughed, nodding. "Yeah, that's what she said."

"Yeah. She is. I wanna watch!"

Dennis breathed a large sigh of relief. He jumped up and turned the movie back on.

"You want to watch the dancing penguins, now you know they're just friends?"

"Yes, please!"

Fortunately, the credits were already rolling, before someone knocked on Jack's door. Dennis gasped, backing away slightly.

"Hey, chill. You don't even know who it is, yet.'

"Nooo. I don't know," Dennis whispered, picking Bark up and clinging to him.

Rolling his eyes, Jack went over to the door, peeking out the viewer. He grinned, throwing the door open.

"Desi Nguyen! Get in here, lady!"

Desi walked in smiling, then frowning slightly in confusion.

"I wasn't expecting a kid. When did that happen for you?"

"He ain't mine! This is my adopted nephew, Mac's kid. Hey, Baby Doc, c'mere. Meet a friend of mine."

Dennis obediently edged forward, hoping to get just close enough to satisfy Jack...and no closer. The lady might be Jack's friend. Maybe. But, Dennis had never seen her before. The lady didn't seem to appreciate that, though, because she stepped even closer, squatting down and smiling. Worse, she reached a hand out towards Dennis, who skipped back, eyes widening even further.

"Jack! She's tryna get me!"

Desi stood, stepping back again, her hands going up and to her sides.

"Sorry, kid. I just was saying hello."

"No, that's not good hello."

"Oh? What's a good hello?" Desi asked, amused.

"I'll show you!"

Dennis ran behind the couch, then reemerged, coming back up to Desi, with plenty of distance between them.

"Hello!" Dennis cried, waving his hand at her. "See? Nice hello and not get me!"

"I'll do better next time," Desi promised, grinning, before turning to Jack. "Wow."

"Yeah, Baby Doc is a bit rough with people he doesn't know. Tell ya what. His parents will be back in a couple of hours. Why don't you and Evan come back around six? I'll take you both out to dinner."

"Sounds like a plan. We'll see you then. Bye, Dennis. You're an interesting kid."

"I'm smart and strong."

"I can see that," Desi agreed, opening and stepping through the door. "Bye, Jack. Bye, Dennis."

"Bye," Dennis said, shrugging. "Can we watch more Mary, Uncle Jack?"

"Yeah, let me switch disks," Jack said, chuckling and shaking his head.

Dennis is seventeen.

Dennis lurked in the nearly empty hallway, standing in front of a barely closed, classroom door. The door was supposed to be locked, but the lock was old and easily picked. Most of the students were already gone, except for the theater kids, like him.

And the student council wannabees.

Dennis waited patiently and finally, his target strode past him. Fortunately, he had lingered behind the other candidates, so there were no witnesses. As "Max Houser" got close enough, Dennis grabbed him, using the element of surprise to toss him into the classroom, then shut the door.

"Hey!" Max protested, barely keeping his balance. "What gives?"

Max frowned at the tall boy, then swallowed. He wasn't sure he actually wanted to know what was going on behind those cold, black eyes. The weight of the unknown boy's gaze made Max shiver. Despite the calm words the boy spoke next, the nearly blank expression on his face didn't help.

"We need to talk."

"Yeah?" Max asked warily. "What about?"

"Who are you?"

Max laughed, nervously, making Dennis want to smack him upside the head. Max's hair was dark, but dyed bright blond on the sides. It was a small detail, but annoying.

"I'm Max Houser, man. I mean, you have to know a little about me. I'm running for student council. Unfortunately," Max said, the last word mostly under his breath.

"Tell me something, Max. Did you get that name off a coffee can? You did, didn't you?"

Max took a deep breath and started walking to the door.

"Look. I don't have time for this."

Dennis grabbed Max by the shoulders, throwing him to the ground.

"You're going to make time, pal," Dennis said, kneeling over him, the smile on his face not matching the glare in his eyes.

Max wished the guy would blink or look away just a bit. The deep black of his gaze made it hard for Max to think. It was just creepy...and that thought brought recognition.

"You're Casper...uh. Dennis! Right?" Max demanded, a bit relieved, when Dennis nodded slightly. "What do you want?!"

Dennis tilted his head, examining Max closely. He looked honestly bewildered, which struck Dennis as a bit weird. But, who was he to talk?

"Hm. Let me explain. I know you aren't a student here. I doubt you're even young enough. And, you've been spending an awful lot of time around my pal Patrick."

"Of course, I'm a student! Ask my teachers. And, Patrick's a...friend. What's it to you, anyway?" Max blustered.

Dennis grabbed Max by the shirt, bringing them nose to nose.

"Listen to me. Patrick's a goofy little horndog, but he's got a good heart and I like him. I don't know what kind of hold you have on him, but it ends. Right now."

"And, if it doesn't?" Max asked, wondering how he would get through anything without Patrick.

Something bright and hard flashed across Dennis' eyes. His grip tightened on Max's shirt. He was so focused on controlling his violent impulses, that he missed the door quietly opening.

"That wouldn't be good for your health."

"No, no, Dennis! Leave him alone, please," Patrick urged, hurrying over and grabbing Dennis' shoulder.

"An adult playing at being a high school student and showing an unhealthy interest in you? Give me one good reason."

Max paled, watching Patrick swallow hard. They couldn't just tell this kid, but...he already seemed to know?

"He's my cousin," Patrick admitted. "I'm helping him hide here, until he can get out of some trouble. Please, Dennis. He's not the bad guy."

Dennis studied them both, dissecting them and Patrick's story. Shrugging, he released Max, then tugged Patrick a short distance away.

"Okay, who is the bad guy, then? Convince me, Patrick."

"Victor Kapados."

Dennis waited a moment for more, then shrugged dramatically.

"I've never met him! You'll have to give me more than that."

"Don't you watch the news?" Max asked, irritated, climbing to his feet.

"No. I'm perfectly aware of man's inhumanity to man, without dwelling on the details."

"He's a mob boss," Max explained. "I'm a stockbroker. We didn't realize he was floating dirty bonds and we're supposed to testify against him. If we live that long."

Dennis stared, wide-eyed, between them, a sharp laugh bubbling up from his throat.

"You're hiding from mob hitmen," he said, then turned on Patrick, frowning. "You're helping him hide from mob hitmen."

"Yeah, and before you freak out at me about it, let me ask you. What would you do, if it was your family?" Patrick demanded.

Dennis' mouth snapped shut, his lips curling up in a guilty smile. He shrugged.

"Point."

"Great, so, we'll be going," Max tried, his bright, fake smile fading, when Dennis thrust a finger in his direction.

"You be quiet. Patrick and I aren't done talking. You're lucky this has worked so far."

"So, you won't tell Ms. McGee?" Patrick asked hopefully.

"Ms. McGee? No, no, no. We aren't telling Ms. McGee anything. This is need to know only and she definitely doesn't."

"Look, we appreciate you keeping quiet about this, but we don't need any more help," Max said, frowning.

"I didn't say I would keep quiet. I said we weren't going to tell Ms. McGee. You brought your problems to my high school, endangering my friends, not to mention your own flesh and blood..."

"Look, I'm sorry..."

"Shut. Up. Now, obviously, the killers after you are incompetent or you would be dead already. But one of two things is going to happen. The killers are going to find you or they'll be replaced by some that can. So, yes, Mr. Coffee, you do need help."

"From you?!" Max scoffed.

"From me," Dennis agreed cheerfully.

"What are you going to do?" Patrick asked, resigned.

"You're going to come to my house for supper, you and this cousin of yours. Do not stand me up. We'll talk more, then."

"What about your parents?" Max protested.

"Oh, they're lovely people. I'm sure you'll get along famously!"

"Great," Max grumbled, rolling his eyes.

"Six-thirty. Don't be late."

Dennis tossed his bookbag into the closet with more force than was necessary.

"Stupid, ridiculous..." he trailed off, fuming, and marched into the kitchen.

Nasha looked away from the vegetables she was chopping, as Dennis yanked open the refrigerator door, grabbing himself a soda.

"Is everything all right?"

"No. We're having a couple of guests for supper."

"It's a good thing we're having stew. Who are these guests?" Nasha asked puzzled. "Someone you don't like, I take it."

"Oh, no, that would be too easy! I actually do like him. The whole damn school does! Well, except for Kevin and a few of his cronies."

"Who are we talking about and why is he coming over, if you're this upset with him?"

"Well, you've probably heard of him as Max Hauser."

"The boy running for class president? Amanda seems pretty happy that he's running."

"Yeah, well, I've been noticing stuff about him. He's...y'know I forgot to get his real name? He's some stockbroker and he's been hiding out from the mob."

"Stockbroker? Andrew Morenski?" Nasha asked astonished.

"Sounds right," Dennis said, shrugging and slumping down into a seat at the table. "That's Patrick's last name and he's Patrick's cousin. So, instead of going to the cops or the FBI, he decides to hide from assassins in a high school...while running for class president, no less!"

"In his defense," MacGyver said from the doorway, "Morenski was in protective custody. The FBI agents in charge of him took him out to eat in a diner and the assassin shot them. He killed one agent and injured the other."

Dennis groaned, waving his hands out from his sides in frustration.

"Oh, good. The idiot managed to shoot everyone except his target! Brilliant."

"How did you find out about all this?" MacGyver asked.

"Are you kidding? I thought Max was a pedophile! I dragged him into a classroom to get some answers from him. Instead, Patrick showed up and told me what was going on."

MacGyver considered addressing his son's aggression, but decided to save it for later.

"Okay, so we need to find and talk to Morenski, before he bolts."

"He damn well better not," Dennis snarled. "I told him to be here at six-thirty."

"Language, Dennis...and, what else did you tell him?" Macgyver asked, warily.

Dennis blinked, shaking his head slightly, then gave a short laugh.

"Oh, no! Nothing."

"Nothing. Then, what makes you think Morenski will show up...if he thinks you're just an ordinary kid."

"Dad, no one has thought I was an ordinary kid, since kindergarten. I'm Casper. Anyway, Patrick trusts me, and Morenski...doesn't have a lot of options."

"Bolting is an option, Dennis."

"Sure, but he can't predict how I'll react, if he doesn't show up."

"It's after six, now," Nasha said, shrugging.

"Yay," Dennis answered, slumping down in his chair.

"Does he know I'm a federal agent?"

"Nope. I didn't say anything about that either. I figured you need to clear things with Aunt Matty first."

"Yeah, I better do that," Mac agreed, dryly.

"In the meantime, Dennis, set the table please," Nasha said.

Grumbling, Dennis got out bowls and plates, while MacGyver called his boss, Matty. The doorbell rang, just as MacGyver finished his phone call. Dennis started to head towards the door, but Nasha thrust a bundle of silverware into his hands, shaking her head sternly.
MacGyver went to the door instead. Opening it, he found Patrick and Andrew Morenski. MacGyver almost laughed, comparing the nervous young man before him to the photos from the news.

"Hi," Andrew greeted. "Um, Dennis invited us over. I'm..."

"Andrew Morenski. I know. Hello, Patrick."

"Hi, Mr. Mac," Patrick said, with wry humor, watching Andrew deflate.

"Dennis told you about me, huh?"

"Yes, he did. Come on in. Supper is almost ready."

"Ee-yeah. Look. I'm sorry Dennis dragged you into this. I'm not sure why Dennis dragged you into this, either..."

"Probably because I'm a federal agent."

"You're a fed?!" Patrick gasped, eyes wide. "That is..."

"Classified, Patrick," Dennis interrupted, coming to the door. "It's classified."

"Totally not my business and not something I will be talking about," Patrick continued, smiling.

"Who would we tell?" Andrew said, shrugging, as they all sat at the table.

"Mr. Morenski..."

"Andy, please."

"If we're going by first names, we'd better stick with Max. Max, this is my wife, Nasha, and our daughter, Amanda."

"Nice to meet you, ladies."

"Hi."

"I'm sorry it's in such bad circumstances, Max," Nasha said, kindly.

"Thank you. So. I guess I'm back in protective custody."

"Well, that's up to you. If you're willing, we can keep you in school..."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Dennis, hush."

"Mom!"

"The assassin targeting Max killed an FBI agent and that's only his most recent kill. Matty thinks we can use this to bring him down and make sure Kapados' organization doesn't simply reorganize," MacGyver explained.

"So, I can go back into federal custody or volunteer to be bait," Andrew summarized, with a tired sigh.

"Pretty much, yeah. It's your choice."

Andrew and MacGyver studied each other, before Andrew looked away.

"Y'know, Dennis has a point. The guy shot up a diner. What's to say he won't shoot up a high school? I disappear, the danger disappears, too."

"Um. This guy wouldn't bother Max's friends, would he? If he found out Max was at school?" Patrick asked, nervously.

"Of course, he would," Dennis said, grimly. "Get one of his teachers or friends someplace quiet, get the information, and make them disappear."

"Aw, damn."

"On the other hand, if you're there, we have an excuse to put protection in place and can hopefully catch this guy, before he can strike."

Everyone ate quietly for some time, letting Andrew turn things over in his head. Andrew tossed his spoon down, shaking his head.

"I don't know. I just don't know! I've got no good options here. I'm sorry I created this mess. If I die, Kapados walks. I don't want anyone else in danger."

"But, they are," Dennis said, quietly. "And, you disappearing won't change that."

"What, you want me to stay? I thought you'd be on board with me being gone."

Dennis laughed, ruefully, shrugging.

"I told you I'd help you. Yeah, this situation pisses me off. You have no idea. The sheer incompetence disgusts me, both the FBI's and the assassin's. But, your absurd name aside, you've done a good job of blending in. What idiot on the run would run for class president?"

"Thanks, I think."

"You can trust my dad and his team. They won't let you down."

"You might as well take down as many bad guys as you can," Patrick said, shrugging.

Andrew took a deep, shaky breath, then nodded tightly.

"Okay. Let's do this. What happens now?"

"You continue doing what you've been doing," MacGyver instructed. "Go to school, act as normally as you can. We'll do the rest."

"We'll do the rest," Andrew muttered, lighting a cigarette, while lurking in the shadow of the stone fence surrounding the school's courtyard. "Yeah, right."

A hand appeared close to his face, plucking the cigarette away. Andrew flinched, looking up in dread, then relaxed. Dennis stood next to him, the cigarette pinched between his fingers. Smirking, he stubbed out the cigarette against the fence.

"That's against school rules, Max. And, the idea is to keep you alive."

"I'm nervous, okay? I've gotta a killer after me, not to mention an election to lose."

"Fair enough."

Dennis studied Andrew, laughing silently.

"Wh-why are you so cheerful?" Andrew complained.

"Relax. You need to appear normal. If you're all keyed up, people will notice."

"Where's Patrick?"

"Some sophomores are teaching him D and D."

"D and..."

"Dungeons and Dragons! You'll lose your nerd cred, Houser."

"What a shame that would be."

"C'mon. We have twenty minutes before first bell. I'll buy you a coffee."

Andrew reluctantly followed Dennis across the street, to the café. Sitting at the counter, Andrew drummed his fingers, smiling anxiously at the other students. Dennis smiled at Gurdie, who stood wearily, looking like she needed a cup of coffee, too.

"Your usual, Dennis?"

"Yeah, and a coffee for Max, too."

"Black?"

"Yes, thanks," Max agreed, turning back to Dennis. "Patrick told me about you helping him out with Chuck. Thanks. He was right to trust you."

"It's not me you're trusting," Dennis said quietly, then grinned. "My dad is the guy to trust..."

A tater tot flew through the air, hitting Dennis in the head, accompanied by, "SMEGGING HELL, Casper, shut up about your DAD!"

Dennis whirled, finding himself staring at a red-headed young man in a green sweater. Dennis studied him, then frowned thoughtfully.

"Do I know you?" Dennis asked, earning a tired sigh.

"I'm Warren, in your chemistry class. We get it. Your dad is a super genius. A brilliant scientist. The greatest guy you know."

Dennis shrugged.

"Well, he is," he defended, before turning to Max.

"Smegging? Where did that come from?"

"Red Dwarf," Max told him, dryly. "It's a British sci-fi comedy show. Ahern's a fan. We got regaled with a lot of his favorite bits."

"O-kay."

"I'm not taking criticism from the kid who hero-worships his dad," Warren said, sulking.

"Aw, c'mon. Hero worshipping his dad is cool," Clinton said, sidling up to Dennis and Max. "Hey, Mad Max. Today is the day. You ready?"

"As I'm ever going to be," Max conceded, draining the last of his coffee.

"You gonna come vote for my man, Dennis?"

"Probably, but I have five more minutes, before first bell."

"Gotta love your sense of timing," Clinton said, laughing and patting Dennis on the shoulder, ignoring the incredulous stares that earned. "Love watching this dude on a stage."

Max let himself be dragged back to the school and the assembly crouching over the start of his day. Dennis watched him go, a trickle of genuine pity entering his heart. He handed Gurdie some bills, including enough for a decent tip.

"Is praising my dad creepy?" he asked.

"Nah. Cheer up, kid. For once, you're not the creepiest person I've seen today."

Dennis didn't let the frown appear on his lips, forcing himself to only look interested.

"Who was the creepiest?"

"Some guy," Gurdie said, shrugging. "He was looking for someone or another. I dunno."

"Aren't we all? Bye, Gurdie."

"Yeah, kid, have a blast."

Dennis walked outside, pausing and looking around. He didn't see anything strange, but a chill went down his spine, anyways. Despite the looming threat of first bell, Dennis walked slowly to back to school, gazing steadily around him. By the time he was on school grounds, he wasn't expecting to find anything.

But, he did.

Dennis stared grimly at the row of campaign posters, all featuring Max Hauser's face...except for the one at the far left. That one definitely showed Andrew Morenski, with full beard, mustache, and glasses. Dennis grabbed the poster, then the one next to it and headed into the building, now moving as swiftly as he could, without outright running.
Fortunately the teachers and other students were already in the auditorium.

Entering, Dennis saw that the assembly was starting, the student council candidates sitting in a row, like ducks in a shooting range, he thought with morbid humor. Pulling out his phone, he sent a text to his dad, paused, then sent another to his Aunt Matty.

"Dennis!" Patrick called, coming over, grinning. "Poor Max looks a bit freaked out."

"He should," Dennis said, showing Patrick the campaign posters.

Patrick paled, looking around wildly, before Dennis nudged him.

"What do we do?" Patrick whispered, a breath away from panic.

"Nothing," Dennis said, with forced lightness, scanning the teachers and staff on stage. "I've already called...where's your mom?"

"In the infirmary, I guess," Patrick said, shrugging, then winced. "That's okay, right?"

"Stay here," Dennis ordered.

Shoving the posters in his jacket pocket, Dennis headed for the nurse's office. He had enough sense to be relieved that the hallways remained empty. Carefully, he eased the office door open and saw Mrs. Morenski sitting at her desk, filling out papers. She looked up and frowned.

"Dennis, what's wrong?"

Dennis took the posters and laid them in front of her.

"Max Houser is your nephew Andrew and he's been made."

Mrs. Morenski's eyes widened. She grabbed the posters, studying them, processing what they told her.

"I...he...how did you find out? Dennis, don't draw this on any more posters! No one can know!"

"I didn't draw those. Mrs. Morenski, he's been made!"

"Made what?" she asked, too stunned to keep up.

Dennis took a slow breath, reminding himself it wasn't her fault.

"Discovered, Mrs. Morenski, and not just by me. We have to assume the bad guys are on their way."

"The bad guys," she repeated, breathlessly, looking about herself, as if for answers. "We'll call the cops...no. No, I should call the FBI. You should go back to the assembly..."

"Federal agents are already on their way," Dennis assured her. "I think we should both go to the assembly."

"Right. I have to warn everyone..."

"That wouldn't do anything, but cause a panic. I just think you will be less of a target, if you're around other people."

Mrs. Morenski stopped fidgeting and stared hard at him.

"Target? What are you talking about?"

"Grab his aunt and use her as bait, to draw Andrew somewhere private. Kill him, immediately, but keep her, in case a hostage is needed. Get out of town, then kill her and dump her body. Then, disappear."

"Y-young man, you have been watching far too many action movies!"

"I hope so, but why don't we join the rest of the school, anyways. Just in case."

"Fine. We're probably over-reacting. I mean, a school is a public place! It's too risky to do anything here."

Dennis shook his head, laughing softly, watching Mrs. Morenski instinctively grab her purse.

"I don't think they're that smart, ma'am. I mean, a diner is a public place, too. But, hey, maybe they learned their lesson."

"I still don't understand...how are you involved in this? Why?"

"Patrick is my friend and I knew something was funny about Max. I confronted them and they told me everything."

"Patrick knew?!"

Dennis gave her a quick glance, as they hurried down the hallway, shrugging lightly.

"Well, yeah. He's been helping Max blend in. Wouldn't you?"

"I...well, c'mon, he could have told me!"

"Yeah, they have made a lot of interesting decisions. Admit it, though. You would have called the feds."

"Well...yes! It's the responsible thing to do."

"Sure, except the FBI dropped the ball pretty hard. They didn't even protect themselves, much less your nephew."

"Dennis, things aren't that black and white. Believe me, you'll understand that, when you're older."

"I'm sure I will," Dennis agreed amicably, before pulling her sharply into a classroom.

"Dennis!"

"Shhh. Someone is coming," Dennis told her, opening his backpack and removing the zip ties he had started carrying.

"Well, it's probably another student," Mrs. Morenski scolded.

"Really? How many kids do you know will skip this assembly? Even if they're sick?"

A shadow fell over the door's window. Dennis peered out, seeing a man, dressed in black jeans and t-shirt. So, not a teacher. Grinning, Dennis swung the door outward, crashing it into the him.

"Dennis!" Mrs. Morenski tried to protest, her voice failing her.

Dennis ignored her, aggressively following up his attack. The man just stood there, clutching his eye, where the door had caught him. He looked up, just as Dennis grabbed him and flung him into the wall. Flailing, the man bounced off, landing hard on the floor. Reaching down, Dennis clapped his hands over the man's ears, producing a pained wail. Dennis stared for a second in disbelief, then flipped the man over, grabbing his wrists. In mere moments, Dennis had the man secured.

"Wow. You are not good at this!" Dennis said, stunned.

The man just grunted, trying to work his way free. Dennis shook his head, patting the man down, finding his gun...his only gun. Dennis stared at the man in sheer disbelief.

"This is it? You've only got one weapon? Nothing for back-up?"

The man had the gall to give a slight shrug, looking confused. Dennis laughed.

"You're pathetic," Dennis told him, making sure the safety was engaged.

"DENNIS! First, we do not mock people, especially when they are already down. SECONDLY, do not mock people who are willing to kill you. Now, give me that gun."

Dennis and the assassin both stared at her, amazed. Dennis gave a complacent smile, nodding and shrugging lightly.

"Okay."

Dennis handed her the gun, watching her place it in her purse. Shaking his head, he turned and once more headed for the assembly.

"A-are we just going to leave him here, like this?" Mrs. Morenski asked.

"Sure. The police will pick him up later."

Mrs. Morenski made a helpless sound in the back of her throat, but began following Dennis. She was almost stunned to discover that only a few minutes had passed, since Dennis came through her door. The assembly was really just getting started. Staring hard at "Max Houser," yes, she could see now that he was her nephew. She crossed her arms, impatient for the assembly to be over. Oh, she and Andrew, and her son for that matter, were going to have words!

Dennis managed to slip away, while Mrs. Morenski fumed at the younger members of her family. Picking his way along the sides, he managed to get backstage. The few teachers who weren't onstage or shepherding the audience assumed that Dennis was supposed to be there and ignored him. Dennis stopped just offstage, surveying the student council candidates...lined up in a neat row on one side of the podium. Turning towards the audience, Dennis scanned the room.

He spotted the assassin, just as he began firing. The bullets bit into the podium, sending shards of plywood flying. Dennis stalked onto the stage, as Max and Kevin dove behind the podium. Everyone else began screaming and running for the doors. Grabbing a microphone from the podium, Dennis shouted.

"HEY, STUPID!"

Most of the students ignored him, but the ones closest to him and several of the teachers stopped, staring at him in amazement. Dennis stood calmly in the middle of the now empty stage, his eyes fixed on the balconies running along every side of the room. The students paying attention began grabbing the ones running by them, pointing at the stage.

"What's he doing?" "Who is that?" "It's Casper." "It's Dennis." "What is he doing?" "Someone get that boy off the stage!"

"What do we have here? A tormented child, relieving his pain by killing his classmates?" Dennis asked. "Oh. No! We're being treated to a professional! A bonafide. Big. Bad. Assassin."

Dennis bobbed his head from side to side in time with his words, with enough sass to impress the pickiest valley girl. The assassin stared down at him, eyes widening in shock, as a weird hush settled on the room.

"You suck, you know. I mean, obviously, as an assassin you suck as a person, right?? But, DUDE. YOU SUCK AT YOUR JOB," Dennis complained. "Oh, by the way, we sometimes use those balconies during plays; the acoustics are amazing. You can actually talk back to me, if you like."

The assassin shook his head, looking around at all the witnesses now staring up at him.

"No? Hm. I can't really blame you," Dennis said, grabbing the second microphone from the podium and tossing it to Max.

"Tell me, Max, how does it feel to know that Kapados sent the most incompetent jackass imaginable to kill you? That has to be a bit insulting."

Max stared hard at Dennis, realizing the young man genuinely wanted an answer. Laughing slightly, Max shrugged.

"It works for me. I'm still alive."

"Right," Dennis conceded, turning his attention back to the assassin. "But, c'mon. This set up was perfect. You've got the high ground, Max, sorry, Andrew, all out in the open...and you missed. You missed. You can't even aim properly!"

"Dennis!" Coach called from the opposite side of the stage. "Boy, you take cover right now. You'll get yourself killed!"

"How about it? Are you planning to kill me?" Dennis asked the assassin, who just trembled, eyes darting around. "What exactly is your exit strategy? It doesn't look like you have one."

"Dennis, I think you should listen to Coach and get off the stage," Max coaxed, grinning too widely.

"Why? He's not getting paid to kill me and he can't kill this many witnesses."

"That might not matter, if you continue to Piss. Him. Off."

"He started it."

The assassin scanned the doors, chewing on his lip.

"What's the matter, buddy? If you're looking for your playmate, he isn't coming. He's all tied up in the hallway outside the nurse's office."

"Who the hell are you?!" the assassin demanded, frustration shattering his silence.

"I'm Casper the Friendly Ghost," Dennis said, laughing lightly. "I..."

Dennis' phone buzzed, interrupting him. Looking down, he read a text from Aunt Matty:

"Get off that stage right now, young man. We'll take it from here."

"Oops. Time to go. The calvary has arrived."

Dennis turned to walk offstage. He took three steps and felt a bullet rattle the stage close behind him. Turning, Dennis stared at the hole in disbelief. Shaking his head, Dennis gave a disgusted sigh.

"Dude. I...y'know, I'm gonna assume you missed on purpose this time. You can't be stupid enough to just shoot me down, in front of witnesses, when I've already told you law enforcement is on it's way. You...you just can't!"

"Why should I believe you?" the assassin asked bitterly.

As he spoke, a strike team of six men in heavy armor stormed into the gymnasium, assault rifles at the ready. Dennis was slightly amused, realizing he didn't recognize any of them. They fanned out, all of them aiming at the would-be killer. Gulping, he dropped his weapon, raising his hands in defeat.

"Don't move. Keep your hands where we can see them," the team leader demanded, as two of his men moved up into the balcony, flanking their target.

Within minutes, the strike team had the assassin in custody, dragging him out the door. Two more men emerged with the second killer, still wearing the zip ties Dennis had used on him. Dennis watched them go in satisfaction, then his phone buzzed again.

"Thank you for the distraction," the text read, from his grandfather this time. "Don't ever do that again."

"Sorry, Pah-pop. I lost my temper," Dennis texted back.

"Understandable."

"You really are crazy," Kevin scolded.

"Did you ever doubt it?"

"Kevin, good luck as student council president. I think my high school career is over. For good this time."

"You're that guy," Kevin realized, amazed. "The stockbroker that went missing."

"Yeah, that's me."

The strike team leader came up onto the stage.

"Mr. Morenski? It's time to go."

"No, wait!"

Ryan and Patrick rushed up on the stage, moving awkwardly around the strike team leader.

"Uh, Ryan..."

"I know. I just...I wanted to say good-bye. Good luck, M-Andrew."

"Well. Who knows. Maybe I'll see you around."

"Yeah, when she's no longer a minor," Dennis advised.

"Shut up, Dennis," Ryan told him, rolling her eyes.

"Fine. Whatever."

Laughing, Andrew Morenski stepped forward, holding out his hand.

"Thank you, Dennis."

Dennis took his hand, giving it a firm, friendly shake.

"Take care, Andrew."

"Keep an eye on my goofy, horndog cousin?"

"HEY!" Patrick protested, sulking.

"Like I said. I like him."

"Patrick, I don't know when I'll see you again. Take care of yourself and your mom."

"Yeah, I will. Go take down Kapados."

"We really need to leave now, Mr. Morenski."

Andrew let himself be lead away, casting a final glance back, just before disappearing outside.

"My life just got boring again," Patrick said, sighing.

""May you live in interesting times is a curse, Patrick."

"Yeah? So's high school. You do realize you're probably going to end up in detention? Seriously, man, what were you thinking?"

"Lack of impulse control is a symptom of what ails me."

"Dennis MacGyver!" Ms. McGee said, sharply, approaching with Coach beside her.

"Wish me luck, Patrick."

"Good luck, Dennis."

Author's note: I know most of you reading this are adults...or teenagers too cool to admit liking Sesame Street. However, if you have never heard Elmo sing "Roll that Pumpkin Down to Town," I highly recommend that you give it a listen. It is actually a very good children's song that can give adults a laugh. I laugh every time I listen to it, largely because I always picture the first part of this story.

"Roll that pumpkin down and down, roll that pumpkin down and down, it's time for Halloween!" Dennis sang loudly, between huffs and puffs of exertion.

He pushed hard, trying to force his pumpkin to roll up the stairs. After all, it had to go up, before it could go down. The song had been clear about the pumpkin going down, though less clear about down what or where. So. The stairs would have to do.

"Roll that pumpkin down and down, roll that pumpkin down and down," he sang, even louder.

"Dennis? What are you doing?" Cassian asked, coming into the hallway from the living room.

Dennis stopped pushing on the pumpkin, wondering why Cassian's eyes were so wide. His best big brother did not look happy.

"I'm taking the pumpkin up, so I can roll it down. Elmo says roll the pumpkin down and down, then make it a face."

Cassian hurried up the stairs, then took the pumpkin away, lifting it easily. The pumpkin was pretty large for a three-year-old trying to roll it up the stairs, but light enough for an eleven year old to lift easily. Dennis made a small sound of protest, but let the pumpkin go.

"You gonna help me?"

"No!" Cassian said, exasperated. "If you roll the pumpkin down the stairs, it'll smash all over the place at the bottom and we won't get to make a jack o'lantern!"

"Nuh-uh! Elmo says, 'roll that pumpkin down and DOWN!"

"Da-aad!" Cassian called up the stairs.

MacGyver came out of his bedroom, pressing his lips together as he studied his boys.

"Okay, what's going on?"

"Dennis thinks Elmo told him to roll the pumpkin down the stairs!"

MacGyver blinked.

"Elmo? As in Sesame Street?"

"Yah!" Dennis said, then sang again, "Roll that pumpkin down and down, roll that pumpkin down and down, roll that pumpkin down and down. It's time for Halloween! It is time for Halloween, so we gotta roll the pumpkin."

MacGyver couldn't help laughing, a bit, remembering the song. He walked down the stairs and picked Dennis up.

"Sweetheart, you misheard the lyrics. It's not "roll the pumpkin down and down." It's "roll that pumpkin down to town!"

comments

jack/matty

Thu, 13 Jun 2019 16:35:30 GMT

July 20th, 2019 7 P.M.

Jack pulled into the parking garage of Matty's apartment and gave a long, weary sigh. Twenty-four hours ago, he'd finally nailed Kovac to the wall, capturing him in a compound in Romania. It was finally over and Jack could get back to what was really important. Not that the security and safety of people around the world weren't important. They were! That's why he'd agreed to go after Kovac to begin with and he trusted Des to have his team's backs.

Jack just didn't expect her to take care of their hearts. They needed their papa bear for that. Well, he wasn't Matty's papa bear, of course. Their relationship was more...well. Complicated. Endlessly so, but Jack was hoping to change that for the better. He climbed out of his car. He'd taken just enough time, after getting home, to sleep for a few hours and shower. Jack had eaten by grabbing a burger and fries and eating them on the way to Matty's apartment.

Standing in front of her door, Jack took a deep breath and gave a solid knock. The door opened almost immediately and Matty stared up at him in surprise. She didn't actually look displeased, though, Jack assured himself.

"Come in, Jack," Matty greeted.

"Thanks, Matty."

"Would you like a beer?"

"Sure, if you're having one."

Matty just smiled fondly, going to her kitchen and grabbing the beers, as Jack made his way to her living room, sitting down on the couch. Matty came up to him, handing him the beer, but then remained in front of him, studying him. Jack just gave her his naughty-boy grin, as he stared back.

"Okay, seriously. How are you, Jack?"

"Me? Hey, I'm peachy. Kovac's being stored in a deep, dark hole somewhere. You got Murdoc and Helman locked up tight. Together, no less. There's some poetic justice for ya. I'm a bit tired, but, hey, yeah, I'm good."

He looked her straight in the eyes, his smile falling away.

"It's you all I'm worried about. I'm gone less than six months and you end up having to deal with that Ethan fella and save his family's bacon for him. Mac and his dad are back on the outs, despite the old guy having cancer..."

"He's not that old, Jack."

"Whatever. And, worst of all, Riley gets her heart broken by that damn bounty hunter!" Jack said with heavy anger, his mouth a thin line.

"She broke up with him."

"Yeah and he gave her a damn fine reason for doing it."

"What reason?" Matty asked, puzzled.

"I don't know!" Jack protested. "But, she was head over heels for that dude, when I left. She didn't just drop him on a whim or get bored."

"No, that wouldn't be like Riley, at all," Matty agreed.

"We can get back to that in a bit," Jack said. "How about you? Really. How are you doing, Matty? I'd really like ten minutes of quality time with your ex-husband."

"I appreciate the thought," Matty assured him, smiling wryly. "But, that's not necessary. I've made my peace with the way things have worked out. You know I'm not the type to dwell. It's over and I'm moving on with my life, however that turns out."

"So, you're really good?"

"I am. Thank you, Jack."

"I care a lot about you," Jack said pointedly.

"Likewise," Matty agreed, fondly.

Jack's lips quirked up in a slight smile.

"I'm glad to hear that. Now, we just gotta get our kids straightened out."

"Our kids?" Matty said, laughing, when Jack just nodded agreeably. "Okay, but can you keep in mind that our 'kids' are actually adults in their own rights?"

"May-be!" Jack hedged. "And, Mac's difficult, because he's dealing with his actual sperm donor. Riley, though! Look. I was put on leave for two weeks. Most of the team that took down Kovac was. So, Riley has my attention right now."

"There's nothing you can do for her, either, Jack."

"I can find out the truth. What do you say? Want to take a little road trip with me to New Orleans?"

"Jack, you should let Riley tell you what happened, when she's ready."

"Maybe I should, but I'm not gonna. I warned Billy about messing with my family."

"Jack..."

"She's not gonna just open up about it, Matty. Don't you think Billy should get a chance to give his side of the story, anyway?"

"Sure," Matty said, resigned.

"So, are you coming with me? You could make sure I don't go too far."

"Going to New Orleans at all is going too far, Jack!"

"Yeah, I know! So?" Jack asked again, grinning.

Matty couldn't help grinning back. She hated how infectious that grin was. Charming, in a just world, would not describe Jack Wyatt Dalton.

It did, though, and there was no point in denying it.

"Okay, fine," she agreed. "When do we leave?"

"Just as soon as you can pack a bag."

Matty stared at him shrewdly.

"I'm driving," she told him flatly.

"Sure, no problem," Jack agreed easily, a hint of smugness appearing in his smile.

"You're impossible," she told him, exasperated.

"Yup. I'll just, y'know, wait right here."

Matty didn't bother answering, going into her bedroom. It didn't take her more than a few minutes, but she didn't go back out immediately. She needed time to think about what she was doing and what it meant...to her and to Jack.

Despite her brave words, Matty's divorce from Ethan had left her vulnerable. She had loved him. Jack, on the other hand...she had never let herself think of him in those terms. Anything between them had always seemed impossible and not just because she had been and was again his boss. Somehow, between Sarah, Ethan, and a few others between them, she and Jack had never been available at the same time and, given their work history, that had seemed to be a blessing. Their friendship had always had an antagonistic edge, expressed through light banter and intense arguments. Honestly, she had spent some time convincing herself that Jack simply wasn't her type.

Well, Matty had spent time trying to do that, at least.

She decided she wasn't going to try and fathom Jack's motives. He'd make them clear in his own time and way. He might be trying to get her out and take her mind off Ethan. He might genuinely be concerned that he would go too far and actually harm Billy and Matty wouldn't blame him one bit. She doubted he was putting a move on her, but you just never knew with Jack. She grabbed her bag and went back to her living room and gave a gentle sigh. Jack was leaning back into her couch, his eyes almost closed and his breathing even. If he wasn't asleep, he was close!

"Should we put this off until tomorrow morning?" she asked, raising her voice just a bit.

"Wha--no! No. I'm awake," he assured her, sitting forward, with his elbows on his knees. "You're driving, right?"

"Definitely," Matty said, dryly. "Let's go, cowboy."

June 23rd. 8 A.M.

Matty and Jack walked into Mama Colton's diner, trying to appear relaxed. Fortunately, Billy was sitting at a table, enjoying breakfast. He looked up and frowned, sighing heavily.

"Hey, Jack. Matty," he greeted politely.

"Hey there, Billy," Jack said back, sliding into the seat across from him.

Matty left them, going to the counter to try and talk to Mama Colton.

"Look, Jack..." Billy started then broke off, not finding the words.

"I warned you about messing with my family, Billy," Jack reminded him, grinning. "You want to tell me what happened?"

"Why don't you ask Riley, Jack? Or did she decide she wasn't going to tell you anything, either?" Billy asked, his voice tight.

"You don't have any idea," Jack said, his voice dripping skepticism.

"No! She asked me to walk, so I walked. If you have a problem with that, take it up with her."

"I'll be having a father/daughter chat with her," Jack agreed, shrugging. "But, when I left, she was pretty solidly Team Billy. So, what changed that? She didn't just get tired of you, I can promise that."

Billy grimaced, looking away, thinking. He gave a tired sigh and shrugged.

"If I did something, I don't know what it was. She didn't say and I don't feel like trying to take a guess."

"Well, then, let's apply a little logic to the situation," Matty suggested, coming over with Mama.

The ladies took seats facing each other, sitting between the men.

"You and Riley were all over each other at the start of that mission," Mama said. "Things seemed peachy, when you went to the restaurant. Now, you be straight with your mama! Did you say something disrespectful?"

"No, Mama!" Billy protested, squirming a bit, under his mama's gaze.

"Did Riley, at any time, seem upset? About anything?" Matty asked.

"Well, yeah. She started acting weird, by the time we got to the car."

"So, what happened, if anything, happened in the restaurant," Mama concluded.

"Nothing happened! It all went smooth."

"What went smooth?" Jack asked.

"We spotted a second mark, Ava Malone, having dinner with our guy, Ryan Hayes. We wanted to hear them talk, so I got up and put a bug on a bottle of wine. I have an app on my phone that allowed us to listen in. We heard what we needed and managed to follow them and corner them. After a very intense car ride!"

"Your phone!" Matty said, with exaggerated interest. "Riley wouldn't happen to have seen your phone in that time?"

"Yeah. I gave it to her, so she could get into the app."

Mama and Matty exchanged glances, while Jack grit his teeth in an angry grin.

"Billy Colton, you hand your phone over. Right now!" Mama ordered.

Billy looked a bit hurt and more than a bit confused, but obediently handed the phone over. Mama scrolled through it, then gave an angry huff, turning an icy glare on Billy.

"What?"

"Don't you 'what' me," she said severely.

"Mama..."

"Riley didn't need to tell you the problem. I raised you to be smart enough to figure it out on your own!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Billy insisted.

"Do you need reminding?" Mama asked, her tone dripping with bitter honey. She handed him the phone. "Well, there you go. Now, I want an explanation."

"Yeah, I do too," Jack agreed.

"I'm sorry, Jack, but this is a mother/child thing, right now," Mama told him, firmly. "But, I might just let you have the leftovers!"

Billy stared at the phone in horror.

"Oh, come on, Mama! You know I wouldn't cheat. You raised me better than that."

"I sure did," Mama agreed, "but it seems you need a strong refresher!"

"No, he doesn't," Frank Colton said, heavily, coming over. "This is my fault."

"What've you got to do with this?" Jack asked.

"That's my text conversation," Frank explained, shooting a rueful glance at Mama. "I destroyed my phone. I got a flat while talking. I put the phone down on the ground, while changing the tire, and forgot to pick it up again. I ran right over it."

"And, you didn't tell me why?" Mama asked.

"Because, I have crap luck with phones and I knew you'd be mad."

"Luck, hell. You're just plain careless, Frank, and evidently with more than just phones!" Mama scolded.

"Yes, Mama. Anyway, I talked Billy into letting me borrow his phone, during my last skip run, because I needed some of our work apps. I figured I'd collect the bounty and get a new phone with my share."

"You did sex texting with your brother's phone?" Mama asked, frowning in disgust. "Boy, that's just bad taste!"

"Yeah, the least you could have done was delete the conversation, when you were done!" Billy agreed, glaring. "You've put me in a world of trouble."

"Yeah, I know. Damn, I'm sorry, Billy. I hope you can get this worked out."

"I think we can smooth things out," Matty said, relieved.

"Okay, Frank, get back to work. We'll talk more about your phone habits later!" Mama ordered.

"Yes, Mama."

"Mama, thank you for helping us," Matty told her, smiling. "That couldn't have gone better."

"Yeah, uh, you two are an awesome team," Jack praised, a bit astounded.

"See what happens, when you let me in on things?" Mama asked, pointedly. "Now, this has been a very long road trip for you two. What happens now?"

"We go home and have a talk with Riley," Jack answered, grinning. "It'll take a few days, but whatever."

"Have you eaten? It's on the house," Mama promised, smiling kindly.

"Oh, I'm not turning that down!" Jack declared, wide-eyed.

"In that case, we'll have whatever you recommend," Matty agreed.

"Good choice," Mama praised her, smirking.

11 A.M.

Jack stared, resigned, at the building in front of him.

"Anne King Gallery. You do know I only wear a noose, if I'm being hanged or paid, right?"

"Do you want to be paid, Jack? Gigolo would be a fascinating addition to your resume."

"Ha ha ha," Jack answered dryly.

"Relax. You don't have to dress up. You'd make me pay for the clothes you didn't bring! If it's any comfort, you're going to enjoy the rest of the day a lot more."

"Why? What are we doing the rest of the day?"

"I don't think I'm going to tell you that."

Laughing and shaking his head, Jack let himself be led into the gallery. Matty headed straight for some paintings by an artist named Bachelier. The paintings were mystical and beautiful, in a really weird way. Women haunted the frames, wearing floating, transparent dresses. The fantasy element was fun, Jack admitted to himself. Matty was fairly quiet, soaking in the images.

"You've heard of this lady before?" Jack asked.

"Yes, I have. I admire her work a lot."

"It's not bad. Not my thing, but she seems to know her stuff."

"That's strong praise, coming from you," Matty teased.

"You bet it is."

<2 P.M.>

"Is this more to your tastes, Jack?" Matty asked, amused.

"Museum of Death?" Jack asked, a bit amazed. "Yeah, sounds killer!"

"Now, that wasn't necessary," Matty tried to scold, but couldn't help laughing a bit.

"Yeah, okay, you're right," Jack half-apologized, laughing. "I just hope they don't have a Murdoc display."

"Let's hope not. He would love that far too much," Matty agreed, giggling.

"Why did I bring up our favorite lunatic?"

"Who else would death make you think of?"

"Good point. Let's go in!"

6:30 P.M.

"A tour, really?"

"We're tourists, Jack. Tourists do tours."

"Yeah, but why now?" Jack whined. "I'm starving! How did you even set this all up, anyway?"

"I had my phone and plenty of time, when I let you drive."

"Okay, fine. I'm still hungry."

"Which is why we're going on a culinary tour, Jack."

"We're going to watch people cook? I don't think that's going to help."

"We're going to eat, Jack. The point of the tour is to sample a very wide variety of local cuisine."

"Oh!" Jack said, smiling. "Okay, never mind, I like that plan."

"I thought you would," Matty said, rolling her eyes fondly.

9 P.M.

"Coffee? We're going to listen to jazz in a place called the Spotted Cat and drink coffee? I don't drink coffee, Matty."

"You're going to have two cups. We're going to try the Café Brûlot Diabolique next. Then we'll get to the harder stuff."

"That cafe brutal sounds pretty hardcore to me."

"It does have brandy in it," Matty admitted.

"Yeah, okay, heads up, then!"

July 24th 1 P.M.

"A spa? You're dragging me into a spa?"

"Hell, yes, Dalton! You've just been through a grueling mission and I just want to be pampered. Don't worry, no one is going to paint your fingernails or toenails."

"No facials! I like my rugged look."

Matty couldn't help laughing at him.

"Heaven forbid we damage your 'look.'"

"So, what are we doing?"

"Well, I want some champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries, so we're going to start with a couple's massage. Then, I will be getting a manicure and pedicure, while you get a detox clay wrap. Essentially, you'll be taking a nap and having a shower. And, Jack? You will cooperate and be a model client."

"Yeah, absolutely," Jack agreed.

He wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed that he and Matty would be allowed to keep their underwear on, during the massage. Just seeing her in her skivvies was giving him thoughts that might get him killed. Granted, sitting around with Matty drinking champagne and eating strawberries was pretty awesome. He wasn't sure about the massage thing, but he'd been tortured and survived, reasonably intact. He could handle whatever Matty had set up.

Matty was having second thoughts, though the champagne still had her feeling a bit bubbly. She kept it strictly hidden, along with her reaction to seeing Jack in his cotton briefs. He was strongly built, with broad shoulders and a solid frame. He did, indeed, look rugged and it suited him. But, she had put temptation far too close to herself. Sighing silently, she stretched out on the massage table, laying on her front.

"Y'know, I don't know about all this, but yesterday was really fun. I guess I can trust you for a repeat," Jack said from his own table.

"Thank you, Jack," Matty said sincerely.

"So, where are we going next?"

"I thought we would do a room escape game."

"Why?" Jack asked, laughing.

"Why not?" Matty retorted, grinning.

"Fair point."

4 P.M.

"We got killed," Jac lamented, shaking his head. "Mac can never know about this."

"That's the wrong MacGyver. It's James we need to keep this secret from, even if it was just a game."

"Yeah, okay, no one named MacGyver," Jack amended. "I might tell Riley, though, just to cheer her up."

"Swear her to secrecy first!"

"Oh, yeah, definitely! So where to next?"

"We'll grab an early supper, then we have another tour."

"Not food, this time?"

"No, it's a tour of famous, supposedly haunted places in New Orleans."

"Damn, woman, you should've been a travel agent!"

"Are you surprised that I know how to have a good time?"

"Hell, no, that doesn't surprise me at all!" Jack assured her, grinning. "You're the sanest person on the team. That's no accident. You don't keep your marbles, if you don't have some fun."

"You're right. You know more than you let on, Jack Dalton."

"Well, I'd hate to raise your expectations for my behavior."

Matty laughed hard, the skin on her head becoming tight and tingly, as moisture leaked from her eyes. Jack just watched her, grinning happily.

12 A.M.

Jack fumbled the lock to their room open, then held the door, as Matty walked inside. They were both moving slower than usual, worn out by a day of fun and a night of drinking. The Blue Nile had featured excellent drinks and better music. Jack gave a content sigh. He and Matty had spent enough nights with Mac and the others that he knew sitting around drinking and talking with Matty was a good time. This was different, though. The past couple of nights had been just them. This was better and Jack had to face that. Things had been bubbling between them for a long time, maybe longer than he realized.

Did he dare let things bubble over? Would she bubble along with him?

"Jack?" Matty asked.

Jack realized he had been standing silently in the middle of the room.

"I'm good. Half asleep, but good."

"Yeah, well, we have to head back tomorrow, so we better get a good night's sleep."

"Oh, that will not be a problem," Jack drawled.

"No, not for me either."

Jack went into the bathroom and brushed his teeth, coming out to find Matty in her pajamas and turning down her bed. Sitting down on his own bed, Jack faced her, smiling warmly.

"Hey, Matty?"

"Hmm?"

"Uh. I bought you something!" Jack said, procrastinating. He pulled a flat square wrapped in brown paper out from under his bed. "Here you go."

Matty took the package with a puzzled frown. Opening it, she found herself looking at a Bachelier painting. Two or three pale women were splendidly done in dresses of blue and green, against a background of similar colors.

"Jack..."

"Hey, it didn't cost that much and you seemed to really like it, so..."

"Thank you."

"No, I should thank you."

"For playing travel agent?" she teased.

"Yeah, for that," Jack agreed sincerely. "For everything, though. For coming along. For making things go so smoothly with the Coltons. Without you, me and Billy might've worked our way up to blows. He was hurting and I was defensive. I can't help protecting our kids, but..."

"I know. I don't blame you. It's hard to see them hurting," Matty said softly. "You're welcome."

"I gotta ask, but...feel free to shut me down hard," Jack said, shifting uneasily. "Did you ever give me and you a thought?"

Matty came and stood before him, her head tilted to one side, studying him.

"Not until recently. We were both occupied with other people."

"Sarah and Ethan," Jack supplied, sighing.

"Yeah. I was married and you almost were."

"Well, I'm not and you're not," Jack said, leaning just a bit closer to her, smiling a bit too brightly.

"No, we aren't," Matty agreed, stepping close enough to touch him, if needed. "Jack? Are you asking for a reason?"

"I'm in love with you," Jack admitted, shrugging ruefully, staring at her dark eyes, which always drew his attention to her. "Not sure how much chance I have, but I figured I should tell you."

"Really, Jack? Do think I set up the past couple of days, because I wasn't interested?" Matty asked tenderly, before leaning into him.

Their mouths pressed warmly together and Jack reached up to stroke the silk fall of her hair. One or both of them made a sound of contentment, as Matty sat beside him on the bed. Jack decided he loved New Orleans.

July 30th. 8 A.M.

Riley walked into the conference room and stopped, surprised. Jack was back! Jack...was sitting really, really close to Matty, wearing a weird grin. She eyed them suspiciously, her head tilted in a gesture of disbelief.

"Hey, Jack, welcome back!" she greeted.

"Ah, you can do better than that, girl," Jack scolded, gently, standing.

He gave her a huge bear hug and Riley clung to him. She was torn between relief and dread. Jack was a big source of support for her, but she dreaded telling him about Billy. She had a bad feeling about what he might do.

"I'm glad you're back," Riley told him, her voice wavering slightly.

"Yeah. I heard things fell apart, just a bit, once I left."

Riley looked up at him, frowning, then sighed.

"You know about Billy."

"Yeah, that's why I wasn't back earlier. I took a road trip to New Orleans."

"You...wait. Is that why Matty's been gone?" Riley asked, incredulously.

"Yeah, well, I do know I can get a bit, a tiny bit, out of hand, sometimes," Jack admitted, with a wry smile.

"So, what shape is Billy in?" Riley asked flatly.

"He's heartbroken and really, really angry at his brother Frank," Matty said gently.

"Frank?" Riley asked.

"Yeah, it seems Frankie-boy has a bad habit of busting up his phone. He borrowed Billy's and then had bad taste to do some sexting with his girlfriend at the same time. He just was dumb enough to not delete the conversation, once he gave Billy his phone back."

Riley stared, frozen by disbelief and a burgeoning hope.

"Billy wasn't cheating?" she asked, in a small voice that made Jack pull her back into a bear hug.

"Nah, he really wasn't," Jack assured her. "Good thing for him, too."

"The next step is yours, but at least you can make it knowing the truth," Matty said.

"Speaking of truths..." Riley began, looking back and forth between them.

"Go make a phone call, Riley," Matty ordered, grinning.

"Right," Riley agreed, heading for the door.

She couldn't wait to spill the beans to Mac and Bozer!

comments

convo snippets

Thu, 13 Jun 2019 03:53:00 GMT

Client: Murdoc, have you killed Nadia, yet? We need this done quickly! "
Murdoc: Mm. Yeah. About that. Look, I'll get the job done, but it's going to take a bit longer than expected.
Client: How much longer?
Murdoc: Well....months longer.
Client: What?! Why??
Murdoc: Well, I haven't gotten around to killing her, yet, but I did find time to knock her up.
Client: Excuse me?
Murdoc: She's pregnant with my kid. So, I'm going to need about nine months to get the job done. Ten tops, I promise!
Client: What if we don't agree?
Murdoc: I'll consider you a danger to my child and treat you accordingly.
Client: Ah. Yes. Well. That'll be fine, then.
Murdoc: You wouldn't have any suggestions for names, by any chance?

comments

buried macdoc

Sun, 12 May 2019 22:09:32 GMT

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.

comments

bb!Murdoc pt 2

Tue, 07 May 2019 19:12:02 GMT

January 3rd, 2032 9 A.M.

Terrance Darven sat at his desk in Washington D.C., gazing stolidly at a photo of adolescent mice. He smirked. Despite the setbacks, and, frankly, the appalling lack of cooperation, science was winning. Perpetual youth was no longer a "pipe dream."

Mitch Herberts came in, carrying another set of files.

"Senator, here is the latest analysis of the chemical make-up of the meteorite particles and a summary of the latest improvements to Carmen's serum."

"Is he ready to begin human testing?"

"No, sir. He still refuses."

"What the hell is his problem?!"

"Well, sir...there is still the cognition and memory issue. None of the test subjects so far show any sign of cognitive retention, with any variation of the serum."

"But, significant strides have been made in how far the aging process is reversed."

"True, sir, but still. Any human that takes the serum will be taken back to at least early adolescence. They'll be alive and healthy, presumably, but...they won't be who they were. All of the test subjects prove that."

"All of them?" Darven emphasized.

"Yes, Senator. There are no indications that Subject One has regained any of his memories from before."

"I own a significant amount of the stock in the company doing this research. You'd think that'd give me some say in things. The only way to solve the memory issue is with study and experimentation with human subjects, wouldn't you agree?"

"I do, sir, yes, but Carmen refuses, even with willing subjects. He says the experiments will happen, but only after a lot more research."

"He's stalling. We have a test subject who has forfeited all of his rights, with his own crimes."

"True, sir, but he has an established identity and knows nothing of his past. As things are, it will be almost impossible to convince anyone to allow us custody of him. If he got even some memory back, it might be a different story..."

"All right," Darven agreed, sighing angrily. "We continue to wait, then! Just keep monitoring Subject One. I don't want to miss the least opportunity to end this charade of him being just another kid."

"Yes, sir."

April 17th 1 A.M.

His target was undeniably clever. Brilliant and unusual! There was no harm in letting him know it, before he died.

"Y'know, I should kill your friends now, but honestly!" he laughed. "I'm curious what you're gonna do next!"

Turning, he took a couple of shots at MacGyer as he ran, weaving around the piles of cars. So close! Oh, the chase hadn't been this thrilling in so long! Of course, the end was pre-determined. Inevitable. But, he was truly grateful to his target for making it so fun! He fired off more rounds, a hunter in motion.

Dennis woke up, with a start, sweat pouring off of him. He breathed heavily, struggling to reject the nightmare images of his sleep. Shivering, he dragged himself out of bed and down the hallway. Silently, he eased his parents' bedroom door open, just enough to let a ribbon of light fall across their bed. He stared at his dad, watching his chest move in the steady rhythm of sleep. Dennis slumped, the tension leaving him, his own heart rate slowing. He quietly shut the door, backing away.

Screw sleep, though.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Dennis headed downstairs. The anxiety of the dream had eased, but the images lingered. The cars. The heavy rifle in his hands. The smell of dust and rocks, as he kicked them up. Dennis could almost taste the air of the junkyard in his dream.

Dennis pulled a jug of cold tea from the fridge, pouring half a glass and guzzling it down, then pouring a full glass. He sat down at the table and rested his head in his hands. So real. That was the part that bothered him. The dreams felt so horribly real. Dennis had never lacked imagination, but he'd never had dreams like these. He hoped he never did again, though they'd been going on for weeks now.

"Dennis?"

Dennis looked up, seeing Amanda standing near him. Smiling gently, she placed a hand on his shoulder.

"What are you doing awake?" Dennis asked, ruefully.

"What are you doing awake?" she retorted, grinning, sitting next to him.

"I can't sleep."

"Wanna talk about it?"

Dennis swallowed, shrugging.

"I love you," he told her, not understanding the impulse to say it, but rolling with it.

"Yeah. I kinda knew that already," Amanda teased.

"Smart aleck."

"Quit stalling and talk to me."

"About what?"

"Dennis. C'mon," Amanda coaxed, confident and patient.

Dennis groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. He really needed to stop indulging her.

"Fine. I've been having nightmares for the past couple of weeks. Bad ones."

"What about?"

"I don't know...I. In my dreams, I'm not me. I'm someone older. Dad's in them, but he's younger, about the age he was, when he adopted me and Cassian."

"Weird. Who are you in the dream?"

"Some scumbag. I don't know. I just..."

"What? You can tell me."

"I don't think you really want to hear this."

"I think maybe you need me to," Amanda countered, firmly.

"It's not the same dream, every time, but I've had this one before. Dad and I are in some junkyard, surrounded by cars. I...the man in my dream is trying to kill him," Dennis rasped, frowning and shaking his head. "He...he taunts dad, saying he's going to kill all his friends."

"Wow. I can see why you're upset."

"I shot Dad in one dream. Someone else was going to shoot him from behind, so I shot Dad in the shoulder, then shot the other guy."

"Okay, that's just weird."

"And a bit disturbing!" Dennis said, annoyed.

"There's a logical explanation for what are, in the end, just dreams," Amanda argued, gently.

"Like what?!"

"You're worried about Dad. He is getting older and he has a dangerous job."

"Then why is he younger in my dreams?"

"Because dreams are weird and illogical? Or you realize he's gotten lucky for a long time."

"I hate them. In my dream, I'm the one gunning for him, half the time..."

"Which just proves the dreams are full of crap. You love Daddy. He's your favorite person and everyone knows it, including you."

"I think at my age, that should actually be Alice."

"Excuse you. She's in third or fourth place. Mom and Dad. Me. Then, Alice."

"Oh, you're in second place, huh? That's a bit audacious."

"Hm. I wonder who taught me that?" Amanda said, giggling.

"Yeah, well..."

"I love you, too," Amanda told him, standing and kissing his forehead. "Now, c'mon. It's time for bed."

"Who's the older sibling here?" Dennis asked, faking confusion.

"You are," Amanda said agreeably. "Now, go to bed."

"Yes, Ma'am," Dennis said, chuckling.

April 20th. 9 A.M.

Dennis handed his driver's education quiz to the person in front of him and hid a yawn. The dreams were coming nearly every other night, now, and it was taking a toll on him. He stretched and waited, until Mr. Hawkins directed them to the school carpark. As Dennis obeyed, Patrick fell into step beside him, with Simone and Sloane trailing behind.

"Man, this is going to be awesome. I can't wait to get my learner's permit! Who needs to talk well, when you have wheels?"

"Anyone who wants to get a date," Dennis said, heavily, lips quirked in amusement.

"Oh," Patrick said, deflating.

"Why don't you want to talk?"

"I do! I just have no idea what to talk about."

"The same thing you talk about with anyone who interests you from the neck up."

"That's not fair!" Patrick protested, stung. "It's easy for you. You're handsome and cool."

"I'm weird and I've been called 'hatchet face,' because of my nose."

"Well...you're charming weird, not geeky weird."

Dennis chuckled, shaking his head, as he climbed into the driver's ed car's backseat. He wondered if he could sneak a nap, while the others drove.

"I'm serious," Patrick continued, squashing that hope. "What do you talk to girls about?"

"Depends on the girl," Dennis said "They aren't one size fits all. Some of them are interested in the same things you are. Whatever that is."

"Okay, but if I want to start a conversation, what do I lead with?"

"Depends on the girl. Try listening, before speaking," Dennis advised, rolling his eyes, as Sloane began driving.

"All right, no more talking. Let the driver concentrate," Hawkins ordered.

Dennis leaned back, letting his eyes drift shut. He twitched in his sleep, the image of the junkyard once more forming in his mind.

"Dennis," Patrick hissed elbowing him in the side.

Dennis started awake, glaring at him.

"Are you okay?" Patrick asked, meekly, worried. "You didn't seem to be in a happy place."

"I'm fine," Dennis lied, grimacing and wiping at his eyes.

"Good, because it's your turn," Hawkins retorted, as Sloane pulled to the street's curb. "You'll be practicing highway driving."

"Yes, sir," Dennis answered, exiting the car.

He climbed into the driver's seat and sat patiently, waiting for Hawkins' instructions.

"All right, pull out, when it's safe, and turn left at the stop sign. And, Dennis. Come to a complete stop, whether you see anyone or not!"

"Of course," Dennis promised, the teacher's instructions amusing him enough to somewhat lift his black mood.

Dennis obeyed, as Hawkins gave him instructions leading him to the nearby highway. Driving carefully, mechanically, Dennis paid close attention to the other cars around him, keeping back from the one directly ahead of him. Dennis secretly was eager to get his own learner's permit and license, just for the freedom and autonomy of having his own wheels. He was pretty sure he could swing a deal with Uncle Jack to get a good car. Jack just understood these things.

As he mused on his future driving options, Dennis spotted a purple car a few cars up on his left with the license plate number 5TGH349. The 5, H3, and 9 stood out, confusing him.

Things went hazy.

Another car cut in front of him, slowing him down, just a bit. That was all right. He had plenty of time...didn't he? Dennis blinked, shaking his head. Something deep inside him, some instinct, kept his attention on the purple car. He didn't recognize it, but...that was the right license plate. He knew it was.

Right for what?, part of him wondered, but he ignored it.

Dennis shook his head, trying to clear it, but then a coldness settled over him. It was all right. He was on schedule. Just keep the purple car in sight, he decided.

"Dennis?" Hawkins said, wondering at the sudden sheen of sweat on his student's brow. "Let's practice passing this slow-poke. Change lanes and pull ahead."

"No," Dennis said, smoothly, only half-listening. "We'll be spotted, if we get too close."

"That's not funny," Hawkins scolded. "Follow my instructions or pull over."

Dennis glanced at him, the figure hazy and only half real. Hawkins frowned, puzzled by Dennis' empty expression.

"Hey, Dennis, good joke. Casper's just joking," Patrick assured them, laughing nervously, then asking him, "Right?"

Dennis ignored him, focussing on the purple car. It changed lanes, pulling into the same lane Dennis was driving in.

"Well, hello. Where are we going?" Dennis whispered, even as his stomach clenched and a frisson of fear crawled across his mind.

"Dennis," Hawkins said, forcing his voice to be firm and calm. "Pull over."

"This is the job. No one invited you along," Dennis replied, firmly, suddenly confused by the others' presence in the car.

He knew them, though, didn't he? They seemed familiar.

"He's legally required to be here," Sloane prompted.

"Legally," Dennis laughed, not sure why that was so amusing, but not really caring.

"Dennis, pal, you really should do your drug deals after school," Patrick teased, hoping to snap Dennis out of whatever was gripping him, "not in the middle of class."

"Drugs? Are we after a drug dealer?" Dennis asked, puzzled.

That didn't sound right. Dennis was sure he should know something about the car and why he should follow it. The information simply wasn't there. Dennis knew he should know the people riding with him, but their identities slipped away, too. He didn't think they'd been with him last time.

Last time?

"Oh, man, Casper has finally flipped out," Simone moaned, frightened.

Casper? Was that him...his alias?

"Dennis, if you don't pull over, I'm going to have to call the police," Hawkins said, gravely.

"Don't you dare!" Dennis snarled, his face contorting with anger and alarm, some of it aimed at himself.

Who was this guy?!

Hawkins recoiled from the twisted ferocity of his usually jovial student. Simone chewed her lip, appalled at seeing a teacher so plainly intimidated. She pulled out her cell phone, but Dennis saw the movement in the rearview mirror.

"You really don't want to do that," he threatened, lightly, following the purple car onto an exit ramp.

Simone put her phone away, trembling.

"Dennis, where are you taking us?" Sloane asked.

"I-I don't know," Dennis admitted. "I don't know what route he's taking."

Simone began crying, her soft sobs filling the cab. The sound pulled Dennis out of his haze, slamming him back to reality. Dripping sweat, now, Dennis pulled the car to the road's shoulder and placed it in park. He turned, seeing his friend crying.

"Simone?" he asked gently, rubbing his arm across his eyes.

She nodded silently. Dennis studied her and the others, noting the fear and worry in their wide eyes and the tight lines of their mouths. He shivered.

"It's okay," he promised, then took a deep breath, repeating, "It's okay."

"Dennis, I need you to let me drive now," Hawkins said firmly.

"Aw, it's supposed to be my turn!" Patrick protested, earning a hysterical laugh from Dennis.

"Now's not a real good time, Patrick," he admonished, putting the car back into drive.

Everyone cried out in protest, but Dennis shook his head stubbornly.

"I'm sorry. I have to get back to school."

"Well, drive carefully and obey the speed limit," Hawkins said, hoping the boy would listen to that much.

Dennis nodded, obeying. He got them safely back to school, parking in the lot closest to McGee's office. Taking the keys, he handed them to Hawkins, who took them warily.

"I'm sorry," Dennis whispered, shaking his head helplessly, before turning towards his friends. "I am. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Sloane assured him, kindly.

"Dude, what happened?" Patrick asked, concerned.

"I don't know. I-I need my dad. I gotta talk to him," Dennis said, getting out of the car.

"Where are you going?" Hawkins asked, exasperated.

"McGee's office. I'm sorry!" Dennis called over his shoulder.

"Right," Hawkins said, helplessly, watching him run off.

Dennis ran all the way to McGee's office, plowing by Blanche.

"Hey, wait!" she protested. "You can't..."

She trailed off as he opened and went through McGee's door. McGee looked up, startled, as he came to a halt, panting, in front of her desk.

"Dennis! What on Earth are you doing here? You're supposed to be in driver's education."

"I was. That's the problem. I need you to call my dad to come get me. I'm in trouble."

"There was an accident? Is everyone all right? Where's Hawkins?" McGee asked, alarmed.

"No, no, no! There wasn't an accident. They're fine. It's me. Something's wrong with me."

"If you're ill, Dennis, you need to see Nurse Conway."

"I'm not ill!" Dennis shouted, then begged. "It's worse than that. It's like I was living out one of my nightmares. I...please. Please call my dad."

Dennis sat down heavily in her visitor's chair, placing his head in his hands. Why couldn't she understand? McGee watched and gave a defeated sigh. Looking up his number on her computer, she used her cell phone to place the call.

"Mr. MacGyver? I'm sorry for interrupting your day, but Dennis insisted that I call you. He wants you to come get him at school."

"Is he ill? I could have his mom pick him up," MacGyver said.

"He said he isn't, but he's been rather vague about what is wrong. He just insists he's in some sort of trouble."

"What kind of trouble?"

"I have no idea. He made some dramatic comment about living out a nightmare..."

McGee broke off as Dennis grabbed her phone with a frustrated hiss.

"Dad? Dad, I need you to come get me. Please."

"Dennis, what's wrong?"

"I--I don't want to talk in front of her. I don't know why, but I don't!"

"Dennis, what happened? You gotta tell me something, son."

"Y-you're here, aren't you? In L.A.??" Dennis asked, beginning to panic.

"Yeah, I'm at the labs," MacGyver soothed.

"I flipped out. I flipped out bad. Please. Please come get me? I'm scared!"

"All right. Calm down. Just stay where you are. I'll be there in about fifteen minutes. Let me talk to Ms. McGee."

"Okay," Dennis said, then handed her the phone. "He wants to talk to you."

"Thank you. Yes, Mr. MacGyver," McGee said into the phone.

"I'm on my way to get Dennis. Just try to keep him calm, until I get there. I'm not sure what's going on. I'll tell you what I can, when I can. I'm sorry about all this."

"I understand. Our concern, of course, is for Dennis."

"I appreciate that. I'll be there soon."

"Yes, good-bye," McGee said, hanging up. "He's on his way."

Dennis slumped against the chair in relief, taking a deep breath.

"Are you sure there isn't anything you can tell me?"

"I'm sure. Dad will understand. I don't even know how I would explain anything to you."

"I'll try not to be offended by that," McGee said dryly. "My...orders from your father are to keep you calm."

Dennis gave a shaky laugh, wrapping his arms around his middle. McGee sighed, then pulled a thermos and two cups from a shelf behind her. She poured two cups of hot tea and handed one to Dennis. To her surprise, he took it quietly, even sipping at it.

"Look, you're still a very young man. Now, it might take some work and some time, but whatever mess you're in, you can get yourself out of it. We'll help."

"Yeah. You and a team of psychiatrists," Dennis said, with bitter humor.

"You're not crazy, Dennis," McGee said, a bit sharply. "I've seen all sorts of students in my career, some of them truly mad. Violently so, even. You are certainly...quirky, but I seriously doubt you are insane."

"Quirky. There was nothing 'quirky' about what happened out there."

"I suppose not. Drink your tea, dear. Your father will be here soon."

Dennis obeyed and was rewarded soon enough, as MacGver came into the room.

"Dad!" Dennis greeted, relieved.

"Hello, Mr. MacGyver."

"Hello, Ms. McGee. Okay, Dennis. Can you tell me what's going on?"

"Can we talk alone?" Dennis pleaded. "I really don't think she should hear this."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, boy..."

"Ms. McGee, please," MacGyver interrupted, firmly. "Can we have some privacy for a few minutes?"

McGee started to protest, then stopped, "Oh, very well."

She left the room and Dennis got up, beginning to pace.

"Hey," MacGvyer said, getting his attention. "We're alone now. Talk to me."

"I don't...it was so weird, Dad! It's like I was in a fog and..."

"Dennis, don't try to interpret. Just tell me what happened."

"Okay," Dennis agreed, forcing himself to stand still. "I was practicing highway driving and I saw this license plate. Part of it was 5, H3, and 9. I don't know about the rest and everything went kinda dim. I started following the car. I don't know why. I just thought I was supposed to. And...I only half-recognized Hawkins..."

"You said something about nightmares?"

"Yeah. I keep having dreams where I'm someone older and I...he keeps trying to kill you or is taunting you! I shot you to keep some other guy from killing you," Dennis complained.

"Nick?" MacGyver asked shrewdly.

"Nick Helman, yeah," Dennis agreed, then started. "Except, I have no idea who the hell Nick Helman is!"

Dennis began pacing again.

"The worst is the junkyard. In that one, I really mean to kill you. And, not just you, but Jack and Riley...some other woman, too...maybe? In some of the other dreams, I feel some affection and it's all some horrible type of playing..."

"Dennis, calm down," MacGyver instructed. "It's okay..."

"I don't need empty confidence, Boyscout!" Dennis snapped, then slapped his hand over his mouth, his eyes wide and anguished.

Hello, Murdoc. Long time, no see, MacGyver thought, unable to suppress a rueful smile, both amused and affectionate.

"I didn't mean to," Dennis whispered.

"I know. You need explanations and I'm going to give them to you," MacGyver promised, then continued, almost sternly, "but, saying it's okay is not empty reassurance. It's the truth. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Good. It's Thursday. Go get whatever you need until Monday. You could use a long weekend. Go on and I'll talk to Ms. McGee."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Go on now."

Dennis left. Outside the office, he found Ms. McGee sitting in front of Blanche with a handful of paperwork.

"I'm to get my things. He wants to talk to you," Dennis told her quietly.

"We hope you feel better, dear," Blanche said kindly.

"Thank you."

Dennis ran and fetched his things, returning to McGee's office, just as his dad was coming out.

"Are you ready?" MacGyver asked.

"What about my homework for this weekend?"

"I'll pick it up tomorrow morning," MacGyver assured him. "Let's go."

Dennis followed him out and to the car, climbing with a weary sigh into the passenger's side. He leaned back, shutting his eyes, but he couldn't relax. Any sort of peace eluded him, as his mind churned with dread and confusion. He barely heard MacGyver call the Phoenix, speaking first with his own father, then with Dr. Miri.

"Dennis, stop worrying," MacGyver urged.

"What am I supposed to do? I flipped out!"

"That's temporary, maybe, hopefully, a one-time thing."

"Do you really believe that?" Dennis asked, skeptically, keeping his eyes carefully off the other cars, as MacGyver drove.

"Yes, I do," MacGyver answered, with firm confidence.

Dennis just shook his head, staying silent for the rest of the short ride. He wasn't surprised to find his dad had brought them to the Phoenix Foundation. The majority of their closest family would be in there, working. MacGyver parked in his space, then turned to Dennis.

"Dennis, look at me."

Dennis obeyed, feeling a bit wary.

"I do believe it will be okay, but this won't be easy for you," MacGyver admitted, then continued, his voice implacably kind. "But, I want you to remember something. Your family, all of us, we love you very much. All of you. Don't forget that, not even for a moment. We love you."

Dennis nodded. He knew. He'd spent his entire childhood wrapped in his parents' love, love that was as soft and comforting as a blanket and strong and unmovable as steel bands. He'd been surrounded by adults who loved and cared for him, even when he made it difficult.

"I know, Dad."

"Good. Come on, then."

They made their way inside to the conference room, where they were joined by Jack, Dr. Miri, and James. They looked concerned, but Dennis didn't see any anger or disappointment in them. Jack came over and folded Dennis into a huge bear hug.

"I'm sorry this is happening like this, but we got ya, 'doc Junior."

"Like what?" Dennis asked plaintively, returning the hug. "What's happening?"

"Sit down, Dennis," James commanded, gently, waiting for Dennis to get somewhat comfortable in one of the armchairs. "Angus? Do you want to explain?"

Angus nodded, taking a deep breath. He stood in front of Dennis, but to the side a bit, so Dennis could see the screen unhindered.

"A long time ago, you asked me about a man named Murdoc. Do you remember that?"

"Um. Some of it. He's my and Cassian's birth father, right? You said he's still alive and I shouldn't be afraid of him."

"And that you shouldn't hate him," MacGyver agreed. "Well, I lied about part of it. Murdoc isn't your birth father, just Cassian's..."

"Cassian and I aren't related?" Dennis asked, stricken.

"You are! You're blood relatives, just...hm. Look, I'm going to do this in chronological order. We met Murdoc for the first time about seventeen years ago. At that time, he was an assassin. He was hired by a terrorist organization to kill me and everyone else on my team."

"And I'm not supposed to hate him why?" Dennis asked, indignantly.

"Because that isn't the whole story," James said, mildly scolding.

"We stopped him and for the next couple of years we had the occasional run-in with him. Sometimes, he even helped us. Your dream was true. He did save my life once, by shooting me in the shoulder."

"H-how could I have known that?"

"Well, that's the point of the story. Murdoc had a grudge against some other assassins and he was hunting them down. He killed one and was staying with Cassian in the dead assassin's cabin, up in the mountains. They were playing outside and Murdoc...a meteorite struck and he got hit with some fragments from it."

"You said he's alive."

"He is," James said, calmly, putting a photo up on the screen.

Dennis frowned, seeing a tall man, with his own hair and eye colors, nearly covered in weird hair. He recognized Murdoc from Cassian's single photo of him.

"Okay, that's Murdoc. What's that stuff on him?"

"Well, scientists are calling it coir pupae--cocoon fiber. Because that's what those hairs formed...a cocoon."

"Weird. So, he's been in a cocoon all this time?"

"No," MacGyver said, gently, with a huff of laughter. "This is a video that was taken, once Murdoc was brought here. I think seeing this will help you more, than if I tried to tell you in words."

"Yeah and you won't believe without proof anyways," Jack pointed out.

MacGyver turned the video on, watching Bozer and some other guy walking around the cocoon, studying it. He watched the cocoon split open, the rush of gore, and Cassian bursting on them.

He saw Bozer lift out the tiny child.

Dennis stood, side-stepping the chair and backing away, his breathing heavy and fast.

"No! No no no no no no no," he chanted, shaking his head. "That's not real. That doesn't happen."

MacGyver paused the video and walked closer to Dennis.

"Hey, breathe. Try to calm down. I know this is hard..."

"HARD?!" Dennis screamed. "It's me?? I'm the scumbag that tried to murder you in a junkyard?"

Everyone else winced.

"You're Murdoc, but you are not a scumbag. Yes, you committed some terrible crimes, before..."

"Cassian," Dennis interrupted, swallowing hard, his stricken gaze focused on the screen. "Not my brother, no. He's my son. Cassian is my son!"

"Yes, yes he is," MacGyver said, calmly. "That's one of the reasons I was allowed to adopt you, so we could keep you together."

Dennis went back to his chair, sitting down with his head in his hands.

"Why?" he asked, his voice muffled. "Why would you adopt me? After all I did?"

"You needed someone who knew what you could become, who could raise you in a way that gave you a chance against your mental illness. We couldn't risk you ending up with someone who would hurt you. And, there just wasn't time. A senator wanted to claim you, as a medical test subject. We had to stop that."

"You didn't have to. I mean, I was an enemy, someone who hated you..."

"What makes you think that?" James asked, almost amused at the thought.

"Um...I tried to kill all of you?"

James fast forwarded the video, the paused it again.

"Dr. Miri is about to speak on the video. I want you to pay very close attention to what she is saying about your mental and emotional state, at the time."

James pressed play, showing more images from the past:

"Certainly, but a child's mind, especially at this age, just isn't developed enough to retain the memories of an adult with Murdoc's experiences. Not consciously, anyway. What he does have is emotional memory, if you will. He knows how he feels about people and, perhaps, objects."

"So, why does he react well to Carmen, but not to you?"

"Well, Murdoc's lifestyle would make wariness of strangers necessary. That instinct could still be with him, in addition to a child's natural fear of strangers. Murdoc met Carmen, before this happened, right? That could have left him with a neutral to positive emotional impression. I never met the adult Murdoc. He has no impression of me to guide him."

"So, he knows he loves me, but doesn't know he's my dad?"

"So, how would you expect a hate-filled assassin to act, given what Miriam just said?"

"I don't know," Dennis hedged, considering it. "Trying to run and, maybe, hide. Throwing temper tantrums and trying to hit or bite."

"Those would make sense, wouldn't they?" James agreed, smiling. "Watch what really happened."

Dennis obeyed, watching the immediate aftermath of his transformation. He watched him splash water with Bozer, turn to Jack for comfort, and play word games with the entire team. James paused the video, as Mac and Jack worked on getting baby Dennis dressed. Dennis sat, confused, then his mouth curled stubbornly.

"So, she was wrong about emotional memory and I liked everyone, but her."

"Stubborn," Jack chided gently. "Do we have a recording of him with the Collective guy?"

"Collective guy?" Dennis asked.

"One of the assassins you had a grudge against," MacGyver explained, chuckling.

"Sure, we do," James agreed, playing the clip.

Dennis watched his younger self blow raspberries at a stranger, then hide his face in Jack's neck.

"I don't get it. When I dreamed about all of this, I thought I felt affection because I love you."

"Well, that isn't anything new, 'doc Junior. It was one of the first things we realized," Jack said, shrugging.

"Raising a potential sociopath requires doing everything possible to create and reinforce emotional bonds," MacGyver said, gently. "Keeping you in our family, we just had to strengthen bonds that were already there."

"On my part! There couldn't have been any on your parts!" Dennis protested.

The three men again shared a knowing chuckle.

"Aw, kid. You won us over pretty fast," Jack admitted.

"Yeah, you were a cute little kid," MacGyver chimed in, earning a flat look from his son.

"Can you three not get all nostalgic about baby me, while I'm having an existential crisis?" Dennis demanded, annoyed.

"We're sorry," James assured him, coming over and rubbing his back. "But...you were adorable. Chaotic, but adorable."

"Great," Dennis muttered, sulking. "Fine. What about today, though? What if that happens again?"

"It probably won't. What happened was your mind accessing lost memories and, well, you entered a sort of fugue state. Now that you know the truth, it's much less likely to happen again," Miriam assured him. "I can teach you some self-hypnosis techniques that will help."

"I...not right now. Please. I'm too tired for anything like that."

"Do you want to go home?" MacGyver asked gently. "Cassian should be there by now."

"Cassian's coming over?"

"Yeah. I called him, before picking you up."

"Okay. Yeah. Let's go home. Please."

"We'll meet you there," James told MacGyver, smiling. "Take it easy, kid. You'll be okay."

Dennis stayed silent, as they went home, his mind churning, sickeningly. He ached to see Cassian, but dreaded it, too. He didn't have to wait long. Cassian was in the living room and rushed over, as soon as MacGyver and Dennis came in the door. Smiling sadly, Cassian engulfed Dennis in a huge hug. Dennis made a choked sound, laying his head on Cassian's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"You can't exactly help getting hit by a meteor," Cassian teased.

Dennis shook his head, giving a watery chuckle.

"Please. Don't joke."

"Sorry, too soon," Cassian admitted.

"I abandoned you."

"You've got to be kidding!" Cassian said, laughing helplessly. "Dennis! You were three years old and you still tried to co-parent me with Dad. You never let go of trying to protect and take care of me."

"I failed," Dennis persisted.

"Did you?" Cassian challenged, dragging him into the living room, then sitting next to him on the couch. "Look at me. I'm alive and happy and healthy. How did you fail?"

"That's because of Dad, not me."

"I never would have met Dad, if not for you."

"I tried to kill him, Cassian. I can't get past that. I shouldn't get past that."

"Yes, you should. You have to."

"How?"

"I don't know," Cassian admitted. "Time, I guess. Learning to accept it. Remembering we love you."

"Does Amanda know?"

"Yeah. Mom and Riley explained everything to her."

"How do I tell my friends?"

"You don't!" Cassian said, sharply. "This has to stay in the family. If people knew you're still alive..."

"Alice. I have to tell her, at least. I can't keep that secret from a wife!"

"You might have to. It's not like it has much to do with who you are now."

"Tell that to the other kids in Driver's Ed," Dennis said, smiling angrily.

"You can tell me about that, later," Cassian said. "Come on. I'll show you the sketches I'm doing for the cover of a new Marvin Teague novel."

"Give me a minute, okay? I just need a few minutes alone."

"All right. I'll tell the others."

Dennis was given space for a few minutes to gather his thoughts, though he didn't have much luck. He was about to give up, when Riley came and sat beside him.

"Hey, kiddo."

"Hi."

"Look, this isn't easy. We do get that. But, we're here and we love you. To hell, if it makes sense or not. You're our Dennis, now, no matter who you used to be."

"I was thinking of Alice."

"Yeah, Cassian mentioned that. You're right. A wife should know the truth of who you are. No secrets."

Riley held out her hand, revealing a computer flash drive. Dennis started at the sight of it, looking questioningly at her.

"It's all in there. All the information we gathered on you, before the meteorite hit, and all the videos of you in the cocoon and after. The whole truth, Dennis, not just the stuff that makes you look bad."

"I was bad."

"Yeah, well, was. That's kinda the point."

Dennis took the drive, putting it in his pocket.

"Thank you, Aunt Riley."

"You're welcome, kiddo," she said, placing a kiss on his cheek. "Now, come on. You can practice being tall, dark, and broody, later."

Dennis couldn't help laughing, as he followed her.

April 20th. 7 P.M.

Mitch Herberts strolled into Terrence Darven's office and stood, smiling, over him.

"What is it, Herberts?"

"I have very good news for you."

"What might that be?"

"Subject One has his memories back. Well. Probably not all of them, but enough to be aware of who he is. Certainly enough that we can convince some important people to hold him accountable and give us needed access."

Darven sat back, happily stunned. A wide, cold smile spread across his smooth features.

"Ready a team."

"With pleasure."

April 21st. 7 A.M.

Dennis stretched underneath his blankets, reluctant to leave the peaceful cocoon of sleep and the dream he'd been having. The scents of honeysuckle and jasmine had filled the air of the courtyard. Dennis remembered it was part of a palace, somewhere in Asia. Songbirds had been singing, hiding in the branches of the trees that formed a canopy overhead. The setting sun had cast interesting shadows, as he walked silently around the trees, staying hidden, until the last moment.

Stepping into the light, he'd wrapped his arms around the waist of an Asian princess or noblewoman, he wasn't sure, startling her and laughing at her enraged gasp. Dennis couldn't remember her name, but he could remember the faint taste of oranges, as he kissed her deeply, and the warm softness of her skin. They had defied death in that courtyard, entangled in an act that wasn't quite making love, but wasn't merely a physical encounter, either. He couldn't remember, if the threat of punishment had come from her father or a husband.

Dennis knew they had been allies, but he wasn't sure why. He didn't think she was merely a client, but perhaps she had been. He couldn't remember when or how they had parted.

Dennis nearly jumped out of his skin, when a thunderous knocking made his bedroom door buckle slightly.

"WHAAA?" he gasped, indignant.

Jack stuck his head in the door, grinning.

"Hey, Lazy-bones. What are you doing laying about all morning? Get dressed. You're coming with us to the Phoenix."

Dennis rolled his eyes, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at Jack's face. He wasn't about to argue though. Even now, Jack was perfectly capable of tossing Dennis over his shoulder and dragging him off. Jack just ducked back a bit, laughing.

"I'll be down in five, Uncle Jack."

"Good boy," Jack praised, withdrawing and shutting the door.

Dennis got dressed and headed for the kitchen. There, he found Nasha setting the table, while MacGyver finished plating a pile of sausages.

"Morning," Dennis greeted, hesitantly.

"Good morning, darling," Nasha said, finishing laying out the toast, eggs, and sausage. "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, some," Dennis admitted, as Amanda came into the kitchen.

"Good morning," she said, kissing his cheek, then sitting at the table.

"I'm definitely hungry," Jack said, coming into the room and sitting at the table. "Smells good."

Dennis sat down and quietly loaded his plate. They all ate in silence for a few minutes.

"You gonna ask why we're taking you to the Phoenix?" Jack asked, finally.

Dennis shook his head, shifting uncomfortably.

"Nope. I would like some time to talk to Dr. Carmen and Dr. Miri, though."

"We can arrange that," MacGyver agreed. "I know you're still uneasy about yesterday at school."

"Did you have nightmares again last night?" Amanda asked gently.

"No. I dreamed about the past, but it wasn't anything awful."

"Good," Nasha said, warmly. "Now, go get your school bag. You still need to pick up your homework and work on that today, too. Amanda, go get your bag. The bus will be here any time now."

Nasha watched Dennis leave the room, before turning on MacGyver and Jack.

"I do want to know why you're taking him with you."

"To help him come to terms with his past," MacGyver explained. "Dennis needs to be reminded that the Phoenix isn't hostile territory, not anymore. He can visit Sparky and hang out with Bozer...just like he has every once in a while for the past fourteen years."

"Moping around here all day won't help him none," Jack suggested, as meekly as he was capable of.

"I didn't intend to let him mope, Jack," Nasha scolded. "But, your idea might be a good one. Just...remember he's still a boy. He's not a fifty-year-old in a child's body. He is a child. Our child."

"Do you really think I could forget that?" MacGyver asked, hurt.

"No," Nasha admitted, relenting a bit, smiling sadly. "I'm worried for him. He's taking this hard and I don't think he's letting us see just how hard."

Jack and MacGyver both shifted uneasily, her concerns feeding theirs. MacGyver nodded.

"Yeah. You're right about that, but he won't open up, until he's ready."

"He insists he's strong, always has, even when he was tiny," Jack said, shrugging helplessly.

"The bad thing is he's so strong that he's never really learned that he doesn't have to be all the time," MacGyver added, sighing.

Dennis came back in, his backpack slung over one shoulder.

"I'm ready, when you are."

"We're ready," MacGyver assured him, standing.

"He'll meet you at the car, in a few moments," Nasha told them, making a shooing motion.

Dennis smiled ruefully, watching MacGyver and Jack file out. He set his backpack down on the table and sat down next to Nasha. She smiled tenderly at him, taking his hand in hers.

"How are you this morning? Really."

"I don't know," Dennis admitted. "I found out yesterday that I used to be an assassin and literally had the sky fall on me. Mom...I know I have a family that loves me, but I can't just pretend that life never happened. How do you love that kind of evil, just because it...shrinks?"

"I...I'm the wrong person to ask. I never met you, as Murdoc. I just saw a sweet, smart little boy."

"That's probably a good thing," Dennis said, dryly, "but...you knew."

"Yes, your father told me, once he proposed and I accepted. But, even as an assassin, you weren't purely evil. Remember what you were shown yesterday. You came out of that cocoon, perfectly ready to love and be loved."

"I wouldn't make too much of that, Mom," Dennis argued, sadly. "I was a predator living in the shadows and proud of it. I liked them, but I kept myself apart, you know?"

"Sounds lonely."

"I didn't trust anything else."

"You said you didn't have a nightmare. What did you dream about?"

"Nothing I'm going to discuss with my mother," Dennis said, wryly, grinning.

"Oh, so you weren't entirely lonely then!" Nasha teased.

"Y'know, I need to go. Jack and Dad are waiting," Dennis decreed, blushing.

"Oh, fine," Nasha said, with mock disappointment, standing up, as he did. "Go on, then. Work on making peace with yourself, okay?"

"I will, Mom. I love you," Dennis assured her, giving her a kiss on the cheek, then grabbing his backpack and heading for the door.

9 A.M.

Dennis followed MacGyver and Jack into the Phoenix building, then stopped just inside. Crap. This building was full of spies and government agents and...

"Dad? How many of the people that work here know about me?"

"Most, if not all," Jack assured him.

"Cr-aaap," Dennis drawled, rolling his shoulders and taking a deep breath.

"Yeah and, by now, most of them will realize you're getting your memories back," MacGyver admitted.

"Thanks, Dad," Dennis said, annoyed. "That's so comforting."

"Dennis, relax. Show a little faith," MacGyver advised.

"Yeah, okay," Dennis agreed, backing down.

"Chin up, Doc Junior," Jack said, clapping a friendly hand on his shoulder. "Your dad has some geek work to do, so I gotcha for the first couple of hours today."

"Okay. What are we doing?" Dennis asked, puzzled.

"I'll see you guys later," MacGyver said, grinning. "I'll let Carmen and Miriam know you want to see them today, Dennis."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Come on," Jack said, guiding Dennis to an elevator.

Dennis got on, waiting a bit impatiently to see where Jack was taking him. He almost fled, when he saw where they were. The elevator opened up onto the Phoenix firing range.

"No. You've got to be kidding!" Dennis protested. "Why on Earth are we here?!"

"Because, a gun is a tool. It's not evil, in and of itself. Besides, relearning might help you relearn how to focus."

"I know how to focus," Dennis argued, sulking.

"You quit that, boy," Jack instructed, ruthlessly. "Come on. We're doing this."

Dennis reluctantly followed, squirming, when Jack checked out two guns. Jack took him onto the range, setting up a target far back.

"Think you can hit that, Doc Junior?"

Dennis just sighed, putting his ear muffs on. He took a moment and focused. He wasn't going to wave a gun around. If he fired, he was going to try and hit his target, properly. Fuming a bit, Dennis aimed for the center mass of the target and fired.

He hit the target, though his aim was high and too far to the left, almost at the shoulder.

"Not bad, for being fifteen years out of practice," Jack praised, taking his own shot and hitting the center.

"Yeah, I guess so. I don't see how any muscle memory could be intact."

"Eh, who knows? Maybe muscle memory actually does take place in the brain."

"My brain was reduced to a one and a half-year-old."

"Nah, mentally, you were closer to two," Jack told him, smirking. "You were just such a tiny little guy, we pegged you as younger."

"No offense, Uncle Jack, but I'm getting a bit tired of people telling me how cute I was."

"Well, you're gonna have to just get used to it. It's the truth. You weren't going around as a baby being the big bad wolf."

"No, but..."

"But, nothing. Do some thinking on it and stop pulling left. You should be remembering how to aim."

They practiced almost silently for the next hour and Dennis' aim improved steadily. He was dismayed and a bit awed at how quickly it all came back to him. He wasn't learning, he realized, almost angrily. He was just resharpening old skills--remembering, just as Uncle Jack had said. Towards the end of two hours, his aim was practically equal to Jack's.

On a whim, remembering his dreams, Dennis aimed for the shoulder of the target. He managed a clean shot that would have incapacitated a person, but not killed or permanently damaged them. Frowning, he switched targets and made the same shot again. And again.

"You always were real good at that shot. Why is that, Doc? Seems like a strange shot for an assassin to practice."

Dennis considered the question, then shook his head, shrugging.

"I don't know. I don't really remember. I think Nick suggested learning it, but I'm not sure."

"Fair enough."

"Jack, really. Why are we doing this?"

"I don't know. Look. The past happened, okay? You know how to use a gun. That just is, but it doesn't have to mean anything. Doing some target practice doesn't make you any different from the kid you were a week ago."

"No, my memories do!"

"Memories are just that, Doc Junior. You own them, but they don't gotta own you. You're smart and strong, one of the smartest and strongest people I ever met. You've always got that right. It's what made you so damn scary--not your aim or that you were a psycho."

"Well, even smart and strong people need a little time for some things."

"We'll give you plenty of that, Doc Junior, but you gotta at least be trying to accept things. Deal?"

"Sure," Dennis promised, ruefully. "That's what Dr. Miri's for."

"Yeah, I don't envy you that. Come on. You can visit with her for a bit, before we drag your dad off for lunch."

Dennis nodded, putting the safety on his weapon and following Jack to the check-in cage. They got there just as Tammy Laurents came up to the window. She saw Dennis and smiled.

"Hey, there. How are you, Dennis?"

"Um..."

"The rumor mill says you had a rough day, yesterday."

"Yeah. It was probably harder on my passengers, but...yeah."

"Well, you didn't crash or anything, so that's good," she encouraged.

"Thanks," Dennis said, dryly.

"Most of us are rooting for you, you know," Tammy said, bluntly. "Alex wanted me to tell you he says hi."

"Thanks," Dennis repeated, softly, grateful, but confused.

Tammy smiled, patting his shoulder.

"Well. Hang in there, kiddo," she said, before turning and walking away.

"Okay, that was awkward," Dennis commented, rolling his eyes.

"Yep. Go on. Go see your head doctor and we'll see you later.

5:30 P.M.

MacGyver pulled into the driveway at their home. They'd stopped to pick up Andy on the way and the boy was staring worriedly at Dennis. Dennis ignored him, climbing out of the car.

"We're gonna be upstairs for a while, Dad," Dennis said, wearily.

"Okay. We'll call you, when dinner's ready."

Going inside, Dennis found Alice in the living room, chatting with Amanda. He sighed with relief, glad Andy and Alice had both received his texts and came over. Trying to smile for her, Dennis silently beckoned Alice to follow him. Amanda considered forcing her brother to say something, but changed her mind, letting him take his friends off in peace. Dennis must have noticed something in her breathing or stance, because he smiled wryly at her, giving her a brief nod, before heading to his room.

"Dennis, what is going on?" Alice asked, once his door was shut.

"You both deserve to know the truth about what happened yesterday...about me."

"Okay," Andy said, sitting at the foot of the bed. "Tell us."

"I...just believe me, okay? Nothing is a joke or made up," Dennis pleaded.

"Dennis, it can't be that bad," Alice soothed, sitting beside Andy, but Dennis shook his head.

"It's bad, Alice. I'm not who you think, who I thought I was. Y'know what? I'm just going to let you watch the security footage my aunt Riley gave me."

Dennis placed the flash drive into the USB port of his dvd player and turned on the small television he had in his room. As the videos started playing, Dennis sat back against the head of his bed, watching his guests' expressions. They watched with a predictable mix of awe, disbelief, and shock.

"That guy in the first video...that was you?" Andy asked incredulously.

"You're Cassian's father?" Alice added, trying to hide her disbelief.

"That's right."

"Y-you know that's all impossible, right?" Andy told him.

"My dad wouldn't lie and I've been getting my memories back, from that time, for weeks now."

"The nightmares you told us about?" Alice asked, feeling a frisson of dread crawl down her spine. "Dennis..."

"I was an assassin. I tried to kill him. I tried to kill all of them and he adopted me and they loved me, took good care of me."

"You wouldn't kill anyone," Alice whispered, shaking her head in denial.

"Yes, I would," Dennis disagreed, firmly. "I tried to tell myself I wouldn't. For a few hours. I don't want to be that person. But. If someone tried to hurt Cassian or Amanda, to protect...yeah. I could kill, if I had to."

"Not for money though," Andy insisted.

"No. Not for money. Not now, I wouldn't. But, I did."

"How many?" Alice asked grimly.

Dennis pulled up Murdoc's CIA file.

"I was a soldier, then an assassin for about twenty years, Alice. I don't know the exact number, but it was a lot. A lot."

Alice shook her head, her eyes wet and her mouth set in a tight line. She glared at him.

"Why?"

Dennis grimaced, giving a helpless shrug.

"I was a sociopath. I just...most of the time, I didn't feel much. I didn't care. But, I was angry."

"That's it?" Alice said angrily. "You were pissed off at, what, life, so you took lives?"

"If you want me to give you a sane, excusable reason for being a killer for hire, I can't. There isn't one and I know that!" Dennis snapped, hurt, despite himself.

"Now, wait a minute..." Andy began, glancing between them.

"No, Andy," Dennis interrupted, softly, staring steadily at Alice.

"No, you can't," Alice agreed, somewhere between anger and sorrow. "I'm sorry. I need time to process this. I just can't...I can't. I mean, the whole cocoon thing, I can handle that. But, killing..."

"I know," Dennis assured her, sadly. "That's why I had to tell you."

"We'll have to talk later, but I need to go," Alice said, standing. "I'm sorry. I can't just swallow this and move on, just like that. If at all."

Dennis just nodded.

"You're not being fair," Andy told her angrily. "That isn't who he is now!"

"Andy, don't. She's right. I have that potential inside me and...you can't blame her."

"Good-bye," Alice said, leaving hurriedly, not wanting to face Andy's accusing glare or Dennis' sorrow.

Andy watched her leave, stunned. He turned to Dennis, surprised to find his friend just sitting there, resigned.

"I can't believe she just left!"

"I can."

"That doesn't surprise you? At all??"

"I was prepared for both of you to walk away. I don't blame her. You shouldn't either."

"I'm not going anywhere!" Andy swore, then laughed ruefully. "Well, I need to go get an overnight bag. I'm not leaving you alone to deal with this. Thank goodness it's Friday."

"Save it for after supper," Dennis advised. "It should be ready soon."

8 P.M.

Dennis walked a small ways behind Andy, as they headed back to the MacGyver household. He had obnoxiously grabbed Andy's backpack from him, as they began walking back, and was swinging the heavy bag back and forth. Andy had packed enough clothes to stay two or three days, including his homework. Dennis was both touched and amused at his friend's loyalty and determination. He also couldn't deny it was helping a bit. Still. Part of him wondered if Andy wasn't in denial, just a bit. He supposed the videos and files must have seemed like some weird movie and its book, distant and unreal.

As Andy reached the house, a dark-clad man jumped out from behind a tree and grabbed Andy from behind in a headlock, his back to Dennis. Dennis darted forward, swinging the pack and hitting the man in the back of his head and the tops of his shoulders. The attacker released Andy and turned on Dennis.

"Andy, stay back!" Dennis ordered, grimly.

"Andy? Well, you must be Murdoc, then," the man said, grinning.

"That's right," Dennis agreed, smiling slightly, despite the anger shining from his eyes.

"Drop the pack," the man ordered.

"Sure," Dennis agreed, tossing the pack to the side.

After all, goodness only knows what Andy had inside it.

The man grinned, reaching forward to grab Dennis' arm, expecting the lanky kid to surrender. Dennis stayed still, waiting patiently, until the man's hand brushed his arm, before crashing his fist into the man's stomach. The man gave a pained, startled grunt, then straightened, jabbing his fist at Dennis' jaw. Dennis dodged to one side, the blow just brushing across his ear. Dennis turned the dodge into an attack, shoving his shoulder powerfully into the man's chest, knocking him back.

"Oh, you still have some skill then!"

"I'd shut up and fight, if I were you."

"Sure thing."

The man circled cautiously closer, noting with dismay the loose, ready stance Dennis had adopted. Murdoc had been notorious for his skill, as well as his ruthlessness. This kid wasn't going to be as easy a mark, as a sixteen-year-old should have been. Dennis eyed his opponent, too, angry and afraid. The man, the soldier, was dressed in military gear that looked terribly official. Dennis grimaced, wondering how he could even tell. But, he could. This man was U.S. military.

Andy watched Dennis and the stranger, frozen with horror. As he watched, a line of blood appeared on Dennis' lip and the soldier's eye blossomed purple and black. Their breaths grew heavy, as they each took vicious blows to their torsos and the soft flesh of their stomachs. A cut appeared on Dennis' eyebrow and the soldier's nose began leaking blood.

Getting within striking range, the soldier kicked out viciously, aiming for Dennis' kidney. Dennis spun out of reach. The soldier moved in closer again and Dennis let him. He wished he could fake some fear, to make the soldier over-confident, but he just couldn't find that kind of energy. He attacked instead, darting forward and swinging his fist into the soldier's ear. With a cry of pain, the soldier locked his opposite hand around Dennis' arm and yanked him around. Grabbing Dennis' shoulder, the soldier grabbed Dennis' arm, pulling it up across the boy's back. He shoved Dennis to his knees.

Dennis gritted his teeth, as fiery pain shot up his arm. The soldier twisted the arm, listening with satisfaction to Dennis' agonized breathing.

"Dennis!" Andy cried, starting forward.

"Don't!" Dennis gritted out, shaking his head, his face set with determination.

"Yeah, just be a good kid and stay out of it," the soldier advised.

Grinning, Dennis thrust his free hand back and grabbed the soldier's balls, squeezing and twisting, timing it with the soldier's noisy exhale. The soldier tried to scream, too breathless to give the sound much volume. He released Dennis' arm, reaching desperately for his groin. Dennis leaped up, spinning and delivering a heavy blow to the back of the soldier's neck, sending him crashing to the ground. Quickly, Dennis grabbed the zip-tie cuffs the man had in his belt and bound his arms and legs.

"You think I'm by myself, kid? We've already got your family under control. If you're smart, you'll surrender," the soldier gloated.

"Put a sock in it," Andy said, acidly, shoving one of his own socks into the soldier's mouth.

"I'm smart," Dennis told him, amused, before reaching down and taking the soldier's handgun, making sure the safety was off and that it was properly cocked. "But, I've always been more than a little crazy, too."

"Um, Dennis?" Andy asked, worried.

Dennis walked up to him, holding his gaze.

"You should go home, Andy."

"No!"

"All right, then you have to trust me and listen. You stay next to the house, behind the bushes. You don't come out, except for me or a member of my family you recognize. You stay quiet, you stay still, and you stay out of sight. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I get it," Andy promised.

Dennis handed Andy his cell phone.

"Call my grandfather and tell him what happened out here. He'll get it. Keep an eye on that guy. If he starts to escape...clobber him with something."

"Be careful," Andy said, showing support.

"As careful as I can be," Dennis promised.

He didn't bother with any further stealth, going in the front door, with the gun hidden underneath his shirt.

Dennis found his parents in the living room, surrounded by four men he had never seen before, that he could recall. A man in a fine suit stood near the couch, another man in a lab coat at his elbow. The other two were soldiers, flanking MacGyver and Nasha. MacGyver was on his knees, a soldier's arm locked around his throat. His face was battered and bruised, but his gaze was defiant. He stared up at Dennis with a mixture of relief and horror. Anger flared in Dennis' gut and it took an appalling effort to keep from shooting his enemies.

"Dad?" he asked, for a moment sounding lost and very young.

"Dennis, run!" MacGyver ordered, earning a cuff to the back of his head, from the soldier standing over him.

"Sorry, Dad," Dennis said, regaining his composure and walking with casual confidence further into the room. He turned to the sharply dressed man, standing far too close to Nasha. "Senator Darven. You have some business with me, I believe."

"Hello, Murdoc. I'm here to take you into custody. I apologize, but Lieutenant Hanes had to subdue your father a bit. I promise he and Sergeant Rollins are only here to make sure you come peacefully."

"Mmmhm," Dennis hummed, then smoothly and swiftly pulled out his stolen weapon, leveling his aim at Darven's head. Rollins reached for his own weapon, but Dennis shook his head, with a slight smile. "If you do that, they'll have to hold a special election."

"Stand down, Rollins!" Darven ordered, a slight sheen of sweat appearing on his brow.

"That's Gordon's weapon," Hanes said, angrily, releasing MacGyver and stepping forward.

"Well, your friend Gordon attacked my friend. I was forced to deal with him."

"You killed him," Hanes said grimly.

"Don't be stupider than you have to be," Dennis said, with cool contempt. "He's alive, just...indisposed."

"Don't be stupid, yourself, kid," Hanes advised. "We don't want your family, just you. You come quietly and we can leave them alone.

"He's not going anywhere," MacGyver asserted, strongly.

"I do seem to have the upper hand," Dennis agreed, then ordered sharply, "Amanda, stay where you are!"

"Dennis?" Amanda called.

"Stay quiet and stay out of sight."

Hanes smirked and Dennis stared coldly at him.

"Don't threaten her."

"You can't keep us at bay forever," Rollins taunted. "Just in this room, you're out-numbered and we have back up coming."

Five more soldiers appeared in the doorways, a couple of them coming into the room, their weapons aimed at Dennis.

"I can shoot the senator, before you take me down," he warned.

"Dennis, no!" Nasha cried out, alarmed.

"Don't worry, Mom," Dennis assured her, the corners of his lips curled up in a cold smile. "We have back up coming too!"

"What?!" Darven snapped, just as James, Jack, Riley, and Bozer burst into the house with a Phoenix strike team. Andy wandered in behind them, winding up standing next to Herberts.

The two teams squared off, guns drawn on each other. Dennis lowered his weapon, keeping his gaze steadily on Darven.

"How did you know we were coming tonight?" Darven demanded.

"Oh, I didn't," Dennis assured him. "But, I had a long talk with Dr. Carmen today and the good doctor proved to be very informative. Then, I had a talk with my pah-pop. We did know you'd come eventually and we prepared."

"Actually, I have a similar question," James said, angrily. "How have you been keeping tabs on my grandson? I've swept the Phoenix several times and can't find any indication of who your mole is."

"Keep searching, Mr. MacGyver," Darven encouraged. "Maybe you'll find the answer. Eventually."

"I already have," Dennis announced, calmly. "See, I had a very productive day, after my chat with Dr. Carmen. I knew you had to have a source and I know Pah-pop is very particular about who works for him, especially after information on me was leaked to you the first time. They never found the mole, because the mole isn't human."

"Whatcha mean, Doc Junior?" Jack asked, voicing the shocked confusion the entire family felt, except Bozer.

"Sparky," Bozer answered, fuming. "Him and Dennis have always been close, but how'd they get Sparky to talk?"

"Who easier to brainwash, than a mind designed to take programming?" MacGyver countered.

"It was fairly easy for my agents to remotely slip in lines of code and programming every time the machine was updated," Darven admitted, smugly. "After all, it is government property."

"Not anymore," Dennis retorted, smugly. "Ownership was transferred to Wilt Bozer today for the sum of twelve million dollars."

"It was?" Bozer asked, amazed.

"You can't do that!" Darven protested.

"Oh, you of all people should know just what you can do if you wave enough money around. And, I happen to have access to a lot of money."

"You just got your memory back, but remember your bank accounts," Darven sneered.

"Sparky is my friend," Dennis told him with quietly intense anger. "I was highly motivated."

"Well, it doesn't really matter. We won't need him anymore."

"Mm. Of course not," Dennis agreed, mildly. He turned to the man in the lab coat. "You're Herberts, right? You've been awfully quiet."

"I'm just here...um. I'll be overseeing the tests on you."

"Noooo, that will be Dr. Carmen," Dennis disagreed, then shrugged. "But, you two do cooperate, right? He says you're unethical, but still brilliant. Toss me that kit I see behind you."

"Why are you considering cooperating with any tests?" MacGyver asked, dismayed and angry.

"Oh, come on, Dad. I have no patience with the whole 'fountain of youth' crap," Dennis admitted, shaking his head with a short laugh, as Herberts handed the kit over warily. "But, progeria? Little kids dying of old age? Other diseases? I'm willing to throw Herberts a bone, if it helps with that."

Dennis grinned at Herberts, making the not-so-good doctor shrink back and tucking his gun into the waist of his pants. Opening and searching the kit, Dennis found a selection of multi-sample syringes and blood storage tubes. He gave a huff of laughter and selected the largest syringe. Nasha winced, realizing it was about the size of a yarn needle. Dennis flexed his arm, tapping the vein in his elbow and making it pop up. Still balancing the syringe, he took an alcohol wipe and sterilized the area.

"Th-that's used for..."

Dennis ignored him, lining the syringe up with his vein. Staring steadily into Darven's eyes, he roughly shoved the needle into his arm. A brief tightening of his mouth only slightly marred the smooth indifference of his expression.

"Dennis," MacGyver scolded.

"Sorry, Dad," Dennis replied, as he reached for a tube, attaching it to the syringe and waiting for it to fill with blood.

Placing the full tube in Herberts' bag, Dennis grabbed another. He filled it with blood, too, ignoring the tense silence of his audience.

"Dennis, enough!" MacGyver ordered, after a fourth tube was filled.

Dennis grabbed a cotton ball, then removed the syringe, putting the cotton over the puncture. Using tape from the bag, he fixed the cotton in place. He put the final tube in Herberts' bag, then zipped the bag closed, tossing it over.

"If my dad signs the release forms, Dr. Carmen will be sending you some CAT scans of my brain," Dennis told Herberts, shrugging.

"He took brain scans?" Herberts asked, indignantly. "When?"

"This afternoon," Dennis said, blithely, taking the gun back out from his waistband. "I told you. I had a very productive day."

"Once we have you in custody at our medical facility, we'll take our own scans," Darven said, shortly, trying to get the situation under his control, wondering how a sixteen-year-old punk had taken over so easily.

"But, he isn't in your custody and never will be. This entire operation has been based on your authority," James said, flatly.

"That's right. I'm no longer a 'junior senator.' I finally have the authority to make this happen."

"Not anymore," James assured him. "I warned you what would happen, if you didn't leave Dennis alone."

"Pah-pop?" Dennis asked, confused.

"Put the gun away, Dennis. You don't need it," James promised. "Find the remote and turn on the television."

Dennis obeyed, handing the gun to Jack and picking up the remote. He turned on a local channel and found a special bulletin running. Text scrolled across the bottom of the screen, announcing Darven was being accused of child abuse. A video of Darven attacking Dennis, when he was a baby, played in the upper righthand corner. Dennis watched, noticing all mentions of Murdoc had been editted out of the video. Fortunately, the Senate was already in session and several other senators were calling for Darven's immediate resignation, promising impeachment, if he didn't. Darven paled, as one news anchor brought up Darven's stock holdings in several medical research companies.

"You're finished, Darven," MacGyver told him, smiling.

"You messed with the wrong family," Dennis agreed.

"Get Darven and his men out of here," James ordered, coldly.

Darven's team had the sense to surrender, disarming and going quietly. Darven protested, as James himself roughly cuffed him, before shoving him into the arms of a waiting soldier. Everyone but Andy and Dennis' family filed out. With a weary sigh, Dennis relaxed.

"Amanda! Come down, sis. It's over," he called up the stairs.

Amanda ran down and flung herself into Dennis' arms.

"A facility. Not even jail, they were going to..." she stammered, choked with sobs.

"Shhhh. They aren't going to do anything," Dennis promised her. "Darven strung himself up good."

Amanda pulled away, looking even younger than her twelve years.

"Are you okay?"

"No," Dennis admitted. "I'm going to try to be, though. Let's sit down, huh?"

"Well, you handled that well," Jack told Dennis as he sat in the middle of the couch, next to Amanda.

"Yeah, but we're going to have a long talk. I'll only let you go so far with providing samples and being experimented on," MacGyver warned.

"I know, Dad," Dennis assured him.

"Wanting to fix progeria is great, but be more careful with yourself," Riley agreed, frowning lightly.

"Yeah, that needle thing was stupid," Andy scolded. "I gotta admit, you really showed what a badass you are!"

"You think Murdoc was a badass?" Dennis said with quiet anger. "I was a murderer. I sent a text saying, 'I saw the great void in your soul and you saw mine...'"

"What?" Andy asked, confused.

"Stephen Faulkner, Andy!" Dennis snapped. "I sent that text to a woman with an eleven-year-old son. I waited in the shadows of a parking garage and, when she approached her car, I shot her. For money. She never even saw me. There was nothing badass about it."

"Dennis..." Andy said gently, sitting next to him.

Andy grabbed a pillow and smacked Dennis in the back of the head, sending him crashing to the floor. Amanda gasped, giving a startled laugh.

"I wasn't calling Murdoc a badass," Andy said, exasperated, as Dennis gazed up at him, stunned. "I was calling you that, a sixteen-year-old kid who took on professional soldiers to protect his family. And won!"

"Andy?" Dennis asked flatly.

"What?"

"Run," Dennis ordered, climbing to his feet.

Andy snorted with laughter, turning and running for the back door, as Dennis chased him.

"Boys, don't run in the house!" Nasha called after them.

"Oh, let them go, Nasha," James coaxed. "Let Andy remind Dennis that he's still a boy."

"It's early and we have beer and sodas in the fridge," MacGyver offered. "We could get the firepit going."

"Sounds good to me," Riley told him, echoed by the others.

Nasha watched them file out back, chewing her lip.

"Nasha?" James asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"He hurt himself with that needle."

"It wasn't about that. He was posturing, reminding them how tough Murdoc was."

"That's a different type of worrying."

"I know, but he'll be okay. We'll make sure of it. He needs moments like now, with Andy, to keep him grounded in his current reality. School will help with that too. It's hard to dwell on being a former assassin, when you're sitting in a classroom, learning how to write a proper essay."

Nasha laughed softly.

"He's better with creative writing."

"I know," James agreed, amused. "Now, come on. Let's go out. He and Andy will join us eventually."

April 22nd. 7 A.M.

Dennis woke up abruptly, his dream fading swiftly, but the newly awakened memories bright and sharp in his mind. He forced himself to breathe. Jumping out of bed, he threw on some clothes. Andy slept through everything, curled up on an air mattress in a corner of the room. Shaking his head, Dennis walked over and shook Andy's shoulder, a bit too roughly. Andy woke up with a frightened cry.

"Andy, it's me!" Dennis hissed, slapping a hand over Andy's mouth. "I need you awake."

Andy relaxed, his muscles slumping for a moment. Reaching out, he shoved at Dennis, glaring half-heartedly.

"After last night, you do that?!" Andy whispered, incredulous. "Why are you even awake?!"

"I got another memory back and it's important. Get dressed. We have to go to your place and get your car."

"I don't have a car, Dennis," Andy told him wearily. "I just barely have my driver's license."

"I'm serious, Andy!" Dennis pleaded. "We gotta borrow your parents' car. It's our only option! It's Saturday and they'll sleep in. My dad almost never does and I want to be long gone, before anyone realizes we are."

"Gone where?" Andy asked, warily.

"We need to visit someone, someone important," Dennis said. "Please. I'll explain. O-or I'll show you. Believe me, you'll understand. Andy, please. I need to do this away from my family."

"All right," Andy agreed, trusting Dennis would have a good reason and, in time, give explanations.

It only took Andy a few minutes to throw on his clothes and another few for him and Dennis to walk to Andy's house. Once there, they quickly grabbed keys. Andy offered to grab food, but Dennis grimaced, shaking his head. By seven-thirty, they were on the road, with Dennis navigating.

"How long a drive is it?"

"About half an hour or so," Dennis said, staring out the window.

"Dennis, talk to me."

"I...I can't okay? Let me do this in my own time. My brain is just churning and I...I'm worried. I think I've made a bad mistake. I just don't know."

Andy agreed, keeping silent, until Dennis instructed him to pull into the parking lot of a large, modern building, surrounded by trees and flowers. Andy read the large sign, made of concrete, which said Sunshine Gardens. He climbed out of the car and Dennis followed. Andy turned to ask more questions, but Dennis was staring at the building, his eyes wet and almost scared.

"Fuck you, Murdoc, you magnificent bastard!" Dennis hissed angrily, his voice wavering. "You tried to do one or two things right in your shitty life!"

"Wow, kid, don't hold back. Tell us how you really feel!"

Dennis whirled around to find Riley and Jack standing beside a car parked behind them, a few cars down. Riley grinned at him.

"I hacked a tracker into your phone, in case you went into some loopy fugue state and we needed to go find you. When your dad noticed you were gone, he called me. Jack and I were closest, so we followed after you."

"Yeah, you better just watch your language, too," Jack scolded, mildly. "Your mama'll wash your mouth out."

"She wouldn't really," Dennis said, smiling weakly.

"Nah," Jack agreed. "Mine would, though, so you're lucky. All right. What is this place?"

"It's a long-term, residential care facility," Dennis said, heavily, frowning again.

"O-kay. And, who's in this facility?" Jack asked warily.

"Cassian's mother," Dennis said gravely.

Jack's eyes squeezed shut, as he absorbed the information. Riley began furiously tapping on her phone.

"Oh, hell, Doc! Did you ever once tell us the plain truth?"

"Not that I remember. I'm sorry," Dennis whispered.

"This place has really tight security," Riley said grimly. "Dennis. We're not going to be able to just waltz in there and have a visit."

"Yeah, even if you're on an approved list, no way are they gonna recognize you," Jack agreed.

"It doesn't matter, if they recognize me or not," Dennis explained. "There's a code. That's how I set things up. If you have the code, you get to see her. If you don't, you don't. Period."

"Are you sure she'll even be here?" Riley worried. "If they stopped getting paid or receiving instructions..."

Dennis shook his head firmly.

"I knew there was a chance I would be killed or disappear," he argued, smirking just a bit. "I'm not that arrogant. It'd take an apocalypse to cut off the money and care I set up for her. That's the one thing I did right."

"What's the code?" Jack asked.

"I'll write it down, later, so you can memorize it. It's...well, let's go in and you'll hear."

"After you, kiddo," Riley invited.

Taking a deep breath, Dennis headed for the facility doors, Andy walking close beside him. He approached the front desk and gave the receptionist a wavery smile.

"We're here to visit Nadia Murdoc."

"Nadia...um, okay. Just let me look up her security protocols," Ava assured him. "Oh."

"Something?" Dennis asked warily.

"Well, the protocols are a bit unusual and really old. They haven't been updated in ages!"

"Yeah, I know what they are."

"Okay, well, let me get Mr. Hanson for you. He's head of security on her floor."

"Thank you."

Dennis paced fitfully, unable to contain his impatience, until Hanson arrived. He was a tall man with red and silver hair, wearing black dress slacks and a short-sleeved dress shirt. He peered at Dennis and the small group, unimpressed.

"My name is Eric Hanson. I understand you're here to see Nadia Murdoc," he greeted, addressing Jack.

"That's right," Dennis said, sharply.

Hanson turned and studied Dennis, his lips pulling up, revealing a sharp gleam of teeth.

"Well. You look a lot like your daddy, boy."

"I don't actually," Dennis retorted. "Are you going to follow the proper protocol?"

"I always do," Hanson assured him, mildly. "What's her number?"

"It's 234523."

"You gotta be kidding?" Riley asked, incredulous.

"Not the safest set of numbers in the world," Hanson agreed, amused.

"That's just the start," Dennis snapped. "Get on with it. I want to see her!"

"Well, you have to say something about Nadia M, then."

"Untouched heart subdued. Cherished mark removed."

"I always wondered what that bit of doggerel meant, but her only other visitor...well, he wasn't the type you asked questions," Hanson admitted. "He had the coldest eyes I've ever seen. The only good thing I can say about him is he doted on Nadia, whenever I saw them together."

"Yeah, well, he's not here. I am."

"I have to admit, I didn't expect you to get any of that right, despite the resemblance between you."

"But, I did and we're going to see her now."

"You sure got his determination," Hanson said, grimly. "Follow me."

"How well did you know Murdoc?" Jack asked.

"Not well, fortunately. I had been working security here for about four years, when Nadia came here. He didn't have any interest in anyone, except her. We were just pieces to put in play for her benefit. Then, about fifteen years ago, he disappeared. He used to call and email, getting frequent updates. Those stopped along with the visits."

Dennis winced.

"So. You said Murdoc's not your dad?"

"He's not."

"Huh. I have to admit, I don't know if I was more angry or relieved, when he stopped visiting."

"He died," Dennis said, shortly.

Jack and Riley flinched.

"I don't think they liked you saying that."

"They have their reasons," Dennis agreed in a softer tone.

Hanson stopped in front of a closed door.

"I'm sure they do. Do you know what to expect in here?"

"Yes, I know her history," Dennis said, sighing. "Please go away."

"All right. You do seem to be in charge," Hanson answered wryly, giving Jack and Riley quick glances, before shrugging. "Have a good day."

Dennis waited until Hanson turned a corner, leaving the corridor empty, then took a deep breath.

"You okay, Dennis? That Hanson guy really had a go at you."

"He's a decent guy. He just made me nervous, when he didn't immediately follow the protocols. He's not supposed to say anything, before the code exchange."

"Well, let's get in there," Jack prodded.

"Right," Dennis agreed, opening the door.

They filed in and found a handsome, older woman sitting in a large recliner, her feet up. She was dressed comfortably in some denim shorts and a soft-looking purple shirt, both appearing clean and well-tended. Her toe-nails were skillfully painted. Her fingernails were, too, but had become chipped. Nadia's hair, a mix of light brown and streaks of silver, fell to her shoulders in soft waves. Laugh lines gently creased her eyes and the corners of her full lips. Jack watched in amazement, as she whittled away at a small piece of wood, humming softly along with the radio.

Dennis stood before her, leaning down with his hand on one of the arms of her chair.

"Nadia?"

Nadia put her knife and wood down, staring up at him. She lowered her footrest and gave him a happy smile, her hazel eyes brightening, then reached up to touch his face. She stroked his cheek, then frowned suddenly, her brows lowering. She tilted her head to one side.

"David?"

"No. I'm Dennis. David can't be here anymore," Dennis said softly, taking her hand and kissing her fingers. "I'm so sorry, beautiful.

Nadia nodded, her expression shifting to sorrow, but then she smiled again, patting his arm. After a moment, she leaned back into her chair, peeking around Dennis to look at the others.

"This is Jack, Riley, and my friend, Andy," Dennis introduced, standing back up.

"Andy?" Nadia asked.

"Hello, ma'am," Andy greeted.

"Hello."

"Cherished mark...you really were supposed to kill her, then."

"Yeah, I was," Dennis said, shaking his head in self-disgust.

"David?" Nadia asked, looking around.

"He's not here, Nadia," Dennis reminded her.

"Oh," she said, disappointed.

"What happened to her?" Riley asked.

"I refused to kill her, so they sent someone else, someone a lot less competent. He shoved her down a couple of flights of stairs, trying to make it look accidental," Dennis explained, sighing. "She suffered brain damage. Cassian was only a month old. Fortunately, he was with me, when she was attacked. I killed the guy and then his bosses. I wasn't risking her. I had already failed to protect her."

"Well, they seem to be taking good care of her," Jack assured him. "You did a good job on that score."

"Yeah. Hey. Nadia?" Dennis asked, waiting for her to turn towards him. "Do you want me to brush your hair?"

Smiling, Nadia got up and pulled a hairbrush from her bedside table. She sat in one of the visitor's chairs, leaning back. Smiling, Dennis walked up behind her and began gently stroking her hair with the brush. Nadia hummed happily, her eyes drifting shut. Dennis' lips trembled, as he tidied her hair, just a bit more.

"Did 'David' do that for her a lot?"

"Yeah, it was one of our little rituals, before and after she came here."

Nadia opened her eyes, turning and staring up at him.

"Cassian?"

Dennis winced, shaking his head.

"No, Nadia. You'll see Cassian later. I'm Dennis."

"Dennis. Dennis. Jack. Riley," she repeated, pointing at each of them. She pointed at Andy and asked, "Cassian?"

"No. Andy," Dennis repeated patiently.

"Andy," Nadia replied, nodding, giving them each a smile in turn. "Hello."

"Hi, Nadia. It's good to meet you," Riley told her.

"We haven't met?" she asked, puzzled.

"No, we've never met before."

"Are you sure?" Nadia asked, confused.

"Yeah. I'm sure," Riley assured her.

"Oh. All right. David usually doesn't like strangers."

"Yeah, well, he knows us," Jack promised, winking at her.

"All right," Nadia agreed, turning and smiling up at Dennis again. "You look so much like my David."

"I know," Dennis assured her, putting her hairbrush away and kneeling in front of her.

"I wish David would come back," Nadia said, with soft sorrow. "It's been months."

"Oh, Nadia, I'm sorry," he told her, his voice cracking.

"Hmmm," she hummed, smiling and stroking his hair. "Such a pretty, young man. David would like you."

"I don't know about that," Dennis said, with a slightly hysterical laugh.

"Will you hand me that, dear?" Nadia asked Andy, pointing at a photo album sitting on her dresser.

Andy handed her the album and she opened it, pointing to the first picture. Everyone drew near, seeing a photo of Murdoc, staring with wry humor at the camera. He was dressed in black jeans and a black sweater. It was weather appropriate clothing, for once, since the tree he was leaning against was shedding bright red leaves.

"See? That's my David. He's so handsome. This is him with our baby."

Dennis swallowed hard, looking at the next photo. In it, he was staring down in amazement at a very tiny baby, cradled closely in his arms.

"That's our baby, Cassian. He must be almost a year old, by now," Nadia reflected, sadly. "I haven't been well enough to see him. David will bring him, when it's safe."

"That's a great photo," Riley said, smiling softly.

It was the last straw for Dennis' battered emotions. He sobbed, then drew a deep breath. His shoulders shook as his face quickly became wet. He screwed his eyes shut, as if trying to keep the tears inside, but he couldn't. They cascaded down his cheeks, his breath coming in heavy gulps. Nadia handed Andy the photo album and Dennis placed his head in her lap.

"I'm sorry. Oh, damn it, damn it all!" he sobbed, brokenly. "I'm so damn sorry. I shouldn't have...I had no RIGHT. I'm sorry..."

He broke off, his crying constricting his throat. He laid half in her lap, pouring out grief and shame with tears and a keening sound that was worse than mere sobbing. Nadia began humming a lullaby, gently stroking his hair.

"Oh, sh, sh," she cooed at him, with tender astonishment.

Riley knelt down beside him, rubbing circles on his back. She'd offered him comfort before, through his childhood, starting with Darven's attack on him, then on occasion, when babysitting and getting him down for a nap. On even rarer occasions, she'd held him, when he cried after getting hurt. Now, she just offered a steady presence, as the violence of his tears evened out to a steadier expression of pain.

"Dennis?" Andy asked, worried. "Hey, man..."

"Leave him be, kid," Jack ordered, keeping his voice low. "He needs to get it all out."

Dennis finally sat up, his face wet and his eyes a deep red. He took a deep breath, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, I know there's some bad here, but ya gotta look on the bright side," Riley instructed, firmly. "She's safe. Your protocols worked. She's obviously being well-treated."

"What if she wasn't? With no one to check on her and make sure...what if someone bad had got hired and started hurting her?"

"Oh, David, no one here would hurt me," Nadia scolded gently. "Hanson would throw them out a third story window! On your orders, probably."

"Probably," Jack agreed, chuckling.

Dennis gave a small smile of surrender.

"Fair enough. We gotta go, beautiful. Cassian will be here to see you, soon, but look. He's not a baby anymore, okay? It's 2032 now. He's a grown man."

"Oh! That's right," she mused. "I forgot. Well, tell him I love him, even if I did forget."

"I will," Dennis promised.

"We'll see you later, Nadia," Jack promised. "It was good meeting you."

"It's nice to meet all of you, too. Tell David I miss him."

"We will," Riley assured her. "Bye."

"Good-bye, dears."

10 A.M.

Dennis entered his house and headed for the living room. Jack had ordered Andy to go home, as soon as he had dropped them off. Going into the living room, Dennis found his parents, Amanda, and James sitting huddled together, waiting.

"Dennis!" Nasha greeted, scolding. "Darling, you have to let us know what's happening. Tell us, before you go running off."

"I'm sorry, Mom," Dennis said, wearily.

"You look like hell," MacGyver told him, sighing. "Did you eat breakfast?"

"No, Dad."

"Well, go do that, now."

"Dad, I..."

"Go on, Doc Junior. We'll tell them what happened," Jack told him, firmly. "Go eat and drink."

"Okay."

Dennis shuffled off, heading into the kitchen. He put together a couple of ham sandwiches and poured himself a glass of milk, then sat down to eat. He was starting his second sandwich, when James came in. Walking over, James pulled Dennis to his chest in a hug, kissing the top his grandson's head.

"I was so worthless. You guys amaze me. How did you manage to make anything out of what was left of him?"

"You have this mistaken idea that everything good about you is Dennis and everything bad is Murdoc," James observed, sighing, releasing Dennis and sitting beside him. "You have to understand that isn't true."

"Murdoc had no concept of right and wrong..."

"If that was true, Cassian would be a very different person."

"Come on. Of all people, how can you see anything worthwhile in Murdoc?"

"Are you kidding? I have more right to see that than anyone, except Cassian."

"What do you mean?"

"Murdoc taught me how to be a father...the importance of being a father. Without him, without you, I don't think I ever would have learned that."

"Why? What did I do that was so special?"

"You were a sociopathic hitman, but you managed to love your son."

"C'mon, Pah-pop," Dennis scoffed.

"Remember the video we showed you? That cocoon released a foul sludge of blood, water, and heaven knows what else. We thought you were dead. Cassian certainly thought so."

"Okay?"

"He ignored the gore and ran into that room, screaming for you. He was ten years old and all he cared about was getting to you and being with his daddy."

"Only to find a toddler."

"That's not the point. Look. I was watching. Not constantly, but I had a monitor hooked up in the background, displaying what was going on, as I worked. When the cocoon opened and Cassian rushed in, I became riveted. I saw how desperately your son wanted to be with you. I wondered, if my own son would be so eager to get to me, if I was in a cocoon."

"Sure he would."

"Why? I hadn't been a father to him in nearly twenty years."

"You were sorry, though, right?"

"Not enough. I came to a humiliating realization. See, Angus had been Cassian. He was once a child wanting desperately to run into the next room and be reunited with his daddy. Only, he knew his daddy had deliberately chosen not to be in that room. I chose to stay away from a boy who needed and wanted me in his life. I was worse than you."

"No, not worse than me, Pah-pop..."

"Dennis. I abandoned my child! Influencing him and guiding him behind the scenes? That was a piss poor substitute for all the hugs, assurances, answers...and everything else I failed to give him."

"You decided all that, while watching me come out of a cocoon?"

"Yeah. I finally, finally understood just what I had done to my son. I understood, why he hadn't just let bygones be bygones. And, for the next few hours, the only person I hated more than you was myself," James admitted ruefully.

"He did forgive you, though."

"Sure. Once I got my head out of my backside, he did, yes. The next day, he decided to adopt you and Cassian. He agreed to let me be a grandfather to you, on the condition that I restricted myself to being family, not a life coach."

"Yeah. Training is not what I needed."

"No! And, I admit, once I got over my pride, I was curious about the whole 'spoiling the grandkids' thing. I wanted to see what the fuss was about."

"You're actually really good at that," Dennis praised.

"I'm usually good at things I put my mind to."

"Okay, so you were a lousy dad. At least you didn't go around killing people."

"Of course, I did. It's part of fieldwork. I did it more justifiably and much, much more legally, but I've killed almost as many people as you have. Our regrets may be sort of flipped around, but it's something we have in common."

"Dad's forgiven both of us, too. He seems to make a habit of it."

"Well, we've also both changed our behavior and that is the point, Dennis. When you make a conscious choice to do better and follow through, you're allowed to forgive yourself."

"Just like that."

"Yes. I mean, sixteen years is hardly 'just like that,' but take more time, if you need it. Just do it sooner, rather than later. You might not agree that Murdoc deserves it, but Dennis does. He's a talented, creative, loving, young man, not a wacko prone to violence."

"Tell that to Chuck."

"Oh, come on," James scoffed, chuckling. "Everyone knows Chuck had it coming."

"Pah-pop!" Dennis tried to scold, laughing in astonishment.

"Well, he did," James persisted, shrugging.

Dennis laughed, leaning against James' shoulder.

"Point taken?"

"I don't know. You going to buy me some more chocolate?"

"Sure, as much as you like. I enjoy spoiling my grandkids."

"Cassian," Dennis reminded him softly.

"That's going to be hard, but all you can do is move forward."

"Yeah."

April 23rd. 1 P.M.

Cassian followed MacGyver into the living room and found Dennis sitting forward on the couch, his elbows on his knees.

"Hey," Cassian greeted warmly, then frowned, as Dennis looked up, sorrow and weariness etched into his face.

"Cassian, uh..."

"Dad, please," Dennis interrupted, gravely. "This is my responsibility."

"All right," MacGyver soothed. "We'll be on the patio."

Cassian watched him go, then sat down next to Dennis.

"Okay...what is it?"

"I remembered something important yesterday. About your mother."

"You...never really talked about her," Cassian observed warily. "Is she dead?"

Dennis shook his head, his mouth tightening. Cassian blinked, unbelieving.

"My mother is alive?"

"When I refused to kill her, another assassin tried. He bungled it, but she suffered brain damage."

"She's in a coma?"

"No, she just has a lot of memory issues and gets confused easily. She has narcolepsy and...she can't live on her own."

"But, she's well enough that we could have had some sort of relationship," Cassian concluded, his voice tightening with emerging anger.

Dennis swallowed heavily, nodding, before forcing out a heavy, "Yeah."

Cassian stood up, glaring down at him in enraged horror.

"You bastard. Why? Why wouldn't you let me see her?"

"I'm sorry, Cassian..."

"I don't want to hear that! Tell me why!"

"I was trying to protect you. You were so little. I didn't want you to be hurt and confused, wondering why your mom was different and couldn't live with us."

"Oh, but you thought me being hurt and confused about not having a mom at all was okay? What is wrong with you?!"

"I always get asked that," Dennis laughed, sadly. "I was messed up in the head, Cassian. I really was. I just...she got hurt and I put her away somewhere she would be safe and protected. That's one thing I did right. Everything was in place, when I saw her yesterday."

"You went and saw her?" Cassian asked, his fury increasing. "Why didn't you take me with you?"

Dennis stood up, raising his hand and moving closer to offer comfort. He let his hand just brush Cassian's shoulder, who ignored it.

"I wanted to see her first. Honestly, I remembered and I just panicked. I needed to get there and make sure she was okay..."

"So, it was more of your paranoia," Cassian hissed.

"Paranoia?" Dennis repeated, stung, his hand falling away. "When I put her in there, men were still being hired to kill her! And, it's been sixteen years. I had no idea what I was going to find."

Cassian drove his fist in a sharp blow into Dennis' jaw, making the boy stagger back, blinking in shock.

"She's my mother," Cassian said, brokenly. "I could have helped. I have the right to help!"

"It's about time you did that," Dennis said, smiling with tender understanding.

Cassian just stared silently at him, shaking his head, his eyes filled with anger, pain, and mortification.

"Hey, it's okay," Dennis assured him. "You're right. I should have called you."

"Quit! Why can't you quit?!" Cassian shouted. "Quit protecting me, quit coddling me...just QUIT!"

"You're my son," Dennis whispered.

"Yeah, except when I'm your brother. Or, am I back to being your son, now?" Cassian reminded him, before turning and heading for the front door.

MacGyver came back into the room, drawn by the loud voices.

"I'll go after him."

"No. Dad, please don't. Let him be angry. He's bottled up and endured so much. Just...let him be angry, for a while."

"I'm not going to let this tear our family apart," MacGyver argued, but Dennis just gave him a wry smile, shaking his head.

"Oh, don't worry. He'll forgive me, probably sooner than he should. He's really not his father's son. He takes far more after his moms."

"I'm looking forward to meeting Nadia myself, honestly."

"Well, you can drive us, once Cassian calms down. I'm hoping to get him out there today. I better get going myself, actually."

"Where are you going?" MacGyver asked, a bit severely.

"To mow the Lamberts' lawn," Dennis said with a dazed laugh. "I promised I would and she always bribes me with cookies."

"Oh, well, you better get that done, then," MacGyver said dryly. "I'll let you know, when Cassian gets back."

"Thanks, Dad."

2:10 P.M.

Cassian stood a few yards away from a pitching machine at the park. The ball sped towards him and he swung powerfully, sending it crashing into the waiting net. He'd bought the machine and net to stretch himself out and get some exercise after long bouts of drawing. Now, he was finding it helpful for releasing his anger.

"Hi, Cassian."

Turning, he found Alice Johnson standing a couple of feet away, staring sadly at him. Cassian went over and shut down the pitching machine, then beckoned her to follow him with a silent shrug. They found a secluded bench and sat down.

"How is he?"

"A pain in my ass," Cassian grumbled, giving a short laugh.

"You're on the outs with him, too."

"Yeah...well, no," Cassian hedged. "I'm angry, that's all."

"Because of his past?"

"A specific part of it. I just found out my birth mother is alive. He kept her a secret from me."

"Growing up, did you know..."

"That he was an assassin? No, not before or after Dad adopted us."

"What was he like, as Murdoc? Was he ever violent?" Alice asked, tightly.

"With me? No, never. The Murdoc I knew was smart, funny...even kind. He was strict, in some ways, but not unreasonably so. I never doubted that he loved me."

"Which is real, though?" Alice complained. "The loving son, brother, and boyfriend? Or the heartless killer?"

"Now? The good kid who loves his family. When he was Murdoc? I don't know. Both, I guess. If you were lucky enough to somehow...click with him, to get into his heart, he'd move Heaven and Earth for you. If not, you didn't matter."

"I guess even serial killers can be complex."

"I don't think serial killer is fair," Cassian protested. "He didn't keep trophies or eat people."

"No, but he admitted to me that he killed a lot. Do you think he enjoyed it?"

Cassian gulped, staring off into the distance, before reluctantly nodding.

"Yeah. If he didn't enjoy the killing itself, he at least enjoyed the chase, out-smarting everyone. Smart and strong. But, I don't think Dennis would."

"When I left Friday, I was going to break up with him," Alice admitted. "Honestly, though? I don't want to. I feel like I should, but...I'm in love with him."

"At first, I just wanted my dad back. Then, I learned what kind of man he'd been. I didn't know about the killing, but I knew he'd been a criminal. But, I didn't feel like I had a right to be angry at him. I mean, he was a little kid and he loved me so damn much. He really did...does. I love him, too."

"Are you considering cutting him out of your life?"

"Hell, no. I'd be cutting away too much of my own heart."

"Even knowing what he's capable of?"

"He did some ugly things, yeah. Knowing he kept my mom from me hurts. Truth is, though, he would never deliberately hurt me and I have to let him be human enough to make mistakes. Bad ones, even. He would never hurt you either."

"No. He wouldn't. So, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to knock the crap out of some more baseballs, then drag him off to visit my mother. Want to come along?"

"Yes, please. Can I take a few swings?"

"Absolutely. I promise it's very therapeutic."

3 P.M.

Cassian and Alice walked in the MacGyver door, just as Dennis came down the stairs, dressed, but drying his hair with a towel. Alice felt an embarrassing warmth in her middle, melting a bit at the sight. He really was cute and she scolded herself for the thought.

"Washing away your sins?" Cassian teased, a bit meanly.

"Sweat. I was mowing," Dennis replied quietly, looking up, then starting. "Alice."

Dennis stopped, still on the stairs, staring at her with longing and a hint of mortification, that looked strange on him.

"Hi, Dennis."

"Hi. Um..."

"Alice is coming with us to visit my mother," Cassian told him, a bit flatly. "Let's go."

"Dad's driving. He wants to meet her, too."

"What about Mom?"

"I guess so."

Nadia came into the hall and smiled at Alice.

"Hello, Alice. I think if Alice is going, then I'll wait. We don't want to overwhelm Nadia and Cassian will want most of her attention. I can visit later."

"Hi, Mrs. Mac."

"Sorry, Mom," Dennis said, contritely.

Nadia tugged him carefully to the bottom of the stairs, then kissed his cheek.

"What did your father tell you Thursday?"

"Don't forget my family loves me," Dennis recited obediently.

"That's right, so you listen to him. Now, go on. This is one wrong you can easily right. There's comfort in that, if you'll accept it. Cassian, sweetheart..."

Nadia gave Cassian a kiss and a long hug.

"Mom..."

"It's all right!" she assured him. "You're not the first person to have two sets of parents. Well. One and a half, really!"

Cassian laughed, especially when Dennis crossed his eyes, sticking his tongue out at Nadia behind her back.

"Your face will freeze, darling," she threatened lightly.

"I thought it already had," MacGyver teased, coming from the living room. "Hi, Alice."

"Hi, Mr. Mac. We're ready to go, if your younger son will behave."

"That's a pretty big if, but I guess we'll risk it."

"Give me just a second," Dennis said. "I'm taking Nadia some of those cookies."

"Cookies?" Cassian asked, interested.

"Yeah, Mrs. Rosa gave me some cookies for mowing her lawn."

"Yeah, give some of those away, before I eat any more of them," MacGyver urged, laughing.

"That's the plan," Dennis agreed. "They're way too addictive!"

"Where's Amanda?" Cassian asked, frowning.

"We sent her to stay the night with her friend Renee. She needs a break from all this drama," Nasha told him, shrugging ruefully. "Don't think she won't notice that bruise on Dennis' jaw."

"I'm sorry, Mom."

"I know and I know maybe you needed that, but...remember, he does love you. Of all of us, losing you would hurt him the most."

"He's not going to lose me, Mom."

"I know and he probably does, too. That won't stop him from being afraid."

"Yes, Mom," Cassian agreed, accepting the gentle rebuke.

3:45 P.M.

Dennis gave Hanson the code, then brushed him off, leading the small group by himself to Nadia's room. Outside her door, he took another deep breath, just as he had the day before. He wondered how long it would take, before he could go in, without steadying himself. Forcing himself to smile, he opened the door. Nadia was in her chair, flipping through her photo album.

"Hi, Nadia," he greeted.

"Hello, David," she greeted, looking up, with a warm smile.

"I'm Dennis."

"Yes, I remember," she agreed. "You brought another group today."

Cassian stepped out in front, studying his birth mother avidly.

"Oh," she said softly, standing up. "You have to be Cassian. Look at my little baby, all grown!"

"Yeah. I'm Cassian. C-can I hug you?"

"Hug me?" Nadia asked, blinking, then nodded. "Of course you can!"

Cassian engulfed her, reclaiming a missing part of himself. He swallowed hard, as he held onto her.

"Have we met before?" Nadia asked, once he released her. "I can't remember."

"No. My father didn't want me hurt and confused about your...memory," Cassian said, angrily.

"Oh, David!" Nadia scolded, not quite turning towards Dennis. "He can be ruthless, when he wants to be. He just doesn't' get certain things."

"He's gotten a lot better, though," MacGyver reminded Cassian, firmly.

"I know, Dad," Cassian said, sighing.

"Dad?" Nadia asked, frowning. "David is here?"

"Hi, Nadia. I'm Angus MacGyver. I adopted Dennis and Cassian, when David...when he was unavailable."

"You know David?" she asked, surprised.

"Yeah, I knew him," MacGyver agreed, smiling at her. "I raised Cassian and Dennis."

"David isn't dead," Nadia insisted, looking over at Dennis.

"No, he's not dead," Macgyver agreed wryly.

"It's good to meet you, Angus."

"I prefer Mac, please."

"Mac. Hello. And you?" she asked Alice.

"My name's Alice. I'm Dennis' girlfriend."

Dennis blinked in surprise, then grinned happily. Nadia shot him an amused look, then smiled warmly at Alice.

"You have good taste," she praised, not clearly addressing either of them.

Nadia sat back down in her chair.

"Cassian. What do you do?"

"I illustrate books and do freelance artwork."

"Oh, I bet that makes David proud! He loves art. You don't have baby photos of them, do you?" Nadia asked MacGyver.

"Well, we have a lot of Dennis, as a toddler, but none of Cassian, before he was ten."

"I'll trade you!" she offered merrily. "Ruthless bastard or not, my David did try. He gave me plenty of photos of our baby boy. Have you met David, Alice?"

"No, ma'am, not really."

"Come here, come here!" Nadia urged, taking some photos from the back sleeves of her album. "David never knew I had these...or knowing him, he pretended he didn't."

Everyone gathered around her, looking as she laid out the photos in order. In them, Murdoc was changing a newborn Cassian's diaper. Several torn diapers and a mess of soiled baby wipes attested that the new father was struggling. In one photo, Murdoc had stopped trying to diaper Cassian, in order to comfort him. Cassian was crying, his face scrunched up in anger. In the next, Murdoc was calmly using wipes to clean baby poop off of his arm. MacGyver and Alice laughed hard.

"That's embarrassing for both of us," Cassian said, blushing.

"Hey, some things take practice," Dennis said, shrugging indifferently.

"He knows no shame," Nadia teased.

"Yeah, Casper doesn't get embarrassed," Alice agreed, smiling warmly at him.

"I just used duct tape, the first couple of times," MacGyver admitted. "Those side tab things suck."

"I hope you got used to them!" Nadia said, astonished.

"Eventually," MacGyver assured her.

"But, you said the boys were older, when you adopted them? Or am I remembering wrong?"

"Dennis was about eighteen months old, but we used pull-ups for him. My wife and I have a daughter, Amanda, who was born later."

"Mom...I want you to come live with me," Cassian announced. "I can hire a nurse for you. You don't need to be in this place."

Cassian looked at Dennis, whose lips were tight, but he silently shook his head, shrugging.

"Are you married?"

"Um. No?"

"Do you want to be?"

"Well, sure, eventually."

"Hm. Well, you get married and give me a couple of grandchildren and we'll talk about it. You can't date and find a woman, if you're busy taking care of your mother."

"All right," Cassian conceded, sighing.

"You'll visit, though," Nadia said carefully.

"Of course I will. We all will. You're part of a huge family now," Cassian assured her.

"Absolutely," MacGyver agreed, flipping the pages of the album, smiling tenderly down at the images of Cassian as a baby and Murdoc in his twenties. "Nadia and I will bring photos for you soon. Do you mind, if I take this and have copies made?"

"Go ahead, only write me a note to remind me or I'll think I've lost it."

"Tell us about you, Mom," Cassian urged. "I don't know anything about you!"

"Oh, sweetie, it's all so dim and far away. My memory...ask David. He can tell you."

"Okay, Mom," Cassian conceded, looking at the photos, as MacGyver went through them.

MacGyver paused on one of Murdoc and Nadia, sitting together in what was probably a hospital waiting room. Her pregnancy was clearly showing. Beaming at the camera, Nadia was sitting sideways on Murdoc's lap, resting her head on his shoulder. Murdoc was ignoring the camera, smiling with rueful indulgence at the woman in his arms.

"Who took this photo?" MacGyver asked.

"I have no idea. I think I remember wanting a picture of us together, but he hated having his picture taken. Paranoid man."

"I'd like a copy of that, too," Cassian said, softly.

"A nurse took it for her," Dennis said softly. "Yeah, I protested. I didn't see why she, why people, wanted stuff like that. Pictures and all. It just seemed silly to me. But, she wanted it, so I gave it to her."

"Silly man," Nadia scoffed. "Of course I wanted photos of that handsome face."

"Ugh."

"Well, you are cute," Alice told him, smirking.

"Thanks," Dennis said, cheerfully, smirking back.

"Get a room," Cassian scolded.

"Boys," MacGyver said, mildly, smiling fondly at them.

"What do you do here, Mom?" Cassian asked, worried. "Aren't you bored?"

"Not really. I have friends here and we do activities. I have hobbies?"

"She whittles," Dennis said. "You were working on something yesterday."

"I was? Oh. I thought I had finished."

Dennis looked at Cassian thoughtfully, then turned to Alice.

"Why don't we take a walk? They have a really pretty garden here, out back."

"Um, okay," Alice agreed.

"We'll be back in a bit," Dennis told MacGyver.

"All right."

Dennis led Alice out into the corridor, then to an elevator.

"What's this about?"

"I think Cassian needs time with his mom, without me lurking. And, we should talk, too."

"Yeah," Alice agreed, blushing a bit. "I've been a bit abrupt."

"It's not that I mind. I don't...I don't know," Dennis admitted.

They fell silent, as Dennis guided them to the garden area. It was a beautiful place full of pretty shrubs and flowers, with comfortable benches for sitting. Sunlight filtered warmly down through shade trees. Dennis led them to a bench and they sat down in silence that just missed being awkward.

"What are you going to tell people at school? There are all sorts of rumors going around."

"We're going to tell them I had a sudden, high fever that produced hallucinations. I was sweating pretty heavily in the car, so I think we can sell that."

"Okay."

"That's not what you really want to ask."

"Why her? Cassian said Murdoc was great, if you were lucky enough to click with him. What made you change your mind about killing her?"

"I watched her beat a man up in an elevator," Dennis said, smiling at the memory.

"You what? Why did she beat him up?" Alice stammered, shocked.

Dennis laughed, shaking his head.

"She thought he was me. Nadia knew she was being targeted. She had pissed off some mid-level mob muscle. He called in some favors and had a hit put on her. So, she was on edge and this guy tried creeping on her. I think he wanted a date."

"And, you, the actual assassin, ended up getting one, instead?"

"Life's funny," Dennis agreed, shrugging, then gave an amazed laugh, saying, "She just...dazzled me!"

"But...you still planned to kill her."

"Mmm, no. I mean, I told myself I did. I was in the elevator to learn her movements. The mafia hadn't provided me the quality of intelligence I was used to. So, I used learning more as an excuse to see more of her."

"How did she find out about you? I'd be furious, if I found out my lover was supposed to kill me."

"I told her, before I slept with her," Dennis corrected, hurt.

Alice breathed a sigh of relief.

"Okay, that helps me think better of him...you," Alice said. "That must have been a fun conversation."

"It didn't happen that way. The mob muscle, Cody, saw us together in a restaurant. He came storming in, cussing at both of us. He told her she'd disrespected him and her days were numbered. Told me I was useless and he had friends who could get a job done right."

"Wow. Poor Nadia. She must have been terrified."

"She was, but she's not the type to cower. Nadia told him he didn't deserve respect and pulled out her cell phone, calling the police. Right in front of him. He wasn't stupid enough to try and stop us from leaving. I took her home."

"So, he outed you. Wasn't she angry?"

"Sure, but she wanted answers too. I mean, we'd been dating for weeks. She wanted to know why. So, I told her. I told her she'd impressed me and that I was in love with her. I guess she believed me, because we kissed and then...well. A few weeks later, she was pregnant."

"How did she end up here?"

"Someone else tried to kill her and botched the job."

"Do I want to know the rest?"

"Probably not, no. Look, Alice...whatever you decide. I'll accept and respect it. I don't think you're being unfair, walking away. Andy won't either, once he chills a bit."

"Maybe not, but like I told Cassian, I don't want to. And, it wasn't just Andy that upset me. You're going through a bad time and I want to be there for you, during those."

"Fair enough, but I need you to understand something. I am Murdoc. Everything he was is inside me. You know how...out of step I can be. I...my dad raised me, very deliberately, to be compassionate, to be good. I want to help people, not hurt them. But, honestly, that's the only real difference between me and Murdoc."

"Dennis," Alice said, laughing a bit. "That's a huge difference!"

"I hope so, because it's all I have to offer."

"That's all, huh? I guess that's not too bad."

"Well, actually, I do have one other thing."

"What's that?"

Dennis moved a bit closer, staring intently into her eyes, making something deep in her shiver.

"I love you," Dennis told her, a slight smile curling the corners of his lips.

"I love you, too," she assured him. "So, what happens now?"

"The sky fell on my head and I ended up in a wonderful family that loves me. I can't waste that. I have to be okay, if only for them. So, I forgive myself and live my life."

"Just because you owe your family?"

"Well and Pah-pop is bribing me with chocolate," Dennis teased.

"Dennis," Alice drawled in warning, smirking.

"I want to be okay," Dennis assured her, laughing. "I'm sixteen. I can't spend the next seventy years being miserable."

"Maybe I can help with that," she offered, leaning in and kissing him softly.

Dennis kissed back and they lost themselves for a few, sweet moments in the tender act. An amused cough separated them. Turning, they found MacGyver and Cassian standing nearby, the photo album tucked underneath MacGyver's arm.

"C'mon, you two," Cassian ordered dryly, smiling at Dennis. "It's time to go."

"We're ready," Dennis assured him, standing up with Alice's hand wrapped in his, and moved forward, heading for home.

September 28th, 2046. 2 P.M.

Dennis sat at a low table, with a small group of children. They each had a coloring book and were sharing crayons and markers from huge tubs that Dennis kept for these times. He smiled, listening as some of the children began talking noisily, mostly in Arabic.

A series of short bangs and thuds grabbed everyone's attention.

"Stay calm," Dennis urged them, speaking in Arabic and smiling kindly at the ones showing the most fear. "You're safe here. I promise."

The door crashed open and two men came in. One, Ignat, had a gun and the other, Rolan, was wielding a blood-covered machete.

"You have our property," the gunman said, harshly.

"Do I," Dennis said. "Children, we're going to play a new game. Cover your eyes with your hands and keep them there, until I tell you to look. Okay?"

"Yes, Mr. Dennis," they agreed, putting their hands over their eyes.

Ignat put his gun away, smirking. A pasty American who spent his time coloring with children was no threat. Dennis stood slowly, backing away from the table. Rolan stayed near the door, glaring at everyone, including Ignat. Once Dennis was a couple of feet back, Ignat approached the table, ready to grab the children.

"You know," Dennis said quietly, switching to English. "I once killed a man with nothing but a pencil sharpener."

Ignat straightened up, alarmed, but it was too late. A few minutes later, Dennis tossed his and Rolan's unconscious bodies out the door.

"Okay, kids, you can go back to coloring," he told them, staying near the door.

Keeping Ignat's gun carefully hidden from the children, Dennis listened, as more gunfire rang through the building. He swore, in Gaelic, just to be safe. His organization, Shielding Wings, had underestimated Ignat and his ties to the Russian mafia. Defeating Ignat's crew, according to their information, should have ended the danger to the children. Instead, the local mafia had sent back-up. Apparently, they were determined to have the children that Ignat had kidnapped from Iran, Iraq, and Afghanistan.

Dennis' lips curled in contempt. That just wasn't happening. Working under the auspices of the Phoenix Foundation, Shielding Wings went all over the world, protecting children in all kinds of danger. The children themselves thought Dennis was just an art teacher. He preferred it that way. After all, he had earned his degree in education.

The gunfire slowed and stopped. Dennis began to relax, when the door once again crashed open. He pulled Ignat's gun, aiming swiftly, before hastily pointing the gun's barrel towards the floor.

"Hello, Murdoc," MacGyver teased.

"Dad!" Dennis exclaimed, pulling the older man into a hug, then pulled away, with a mock glare. "Thanks for that."

"You finally look like yourself."

"Who did I look like before?" Dennis asked, laughing.

"A junior version. We've finished the clean-up. Thank goodness Bozer figured out you needed back-up," MacGyver said, then turned, smiling at the kids, speaking Arabic, as well. "Hi there."

The kids stared up at him, curious and amazed. MacGyver's hair was now a shiny silver and kindness was etched in lines on his face. Age had pared and hardened his body to whipcord thinness. Many a terrorist and criminal had underestimated the steel strength of his slender form. His blue eyes still shown brightly and the children relaxed under his benign gaze.

"Children," Dennis said. "This is my father, Angus MacGyver."

"Hello, Mr. Angus!" they greeted, with varying degrees of shyness.

"It's time to clean up," Dennis instructed. "We'll be leaving here soon."

"Where are we going?" the oldest girl, Tasnim, asked.

"You're going to a shelter, where you will stay, just until we can safely reunite you with your families," Dennis explained.

"I can go home to mama and papa?" Husni, a previously almost silent boy, asked eagerly.

"Yes, you're going home to your parents," MacGyver promised him.

"You're his papa?" Husni asked, confused.

"Yeah, I am," MacGyver said, proudly.

"I thought he was a djinn," Husni said, amazed.

"No, I'm just a human," Dennis said, laughing.

"Oh," Husni said, disappointed.

"Sorry," Dennis offered, smiling ruefully.

"It's all right," Husni assured him, turning and helping pack up the crayons and coloring books.

"Why do I strike people as weird?"

"You are weird," MacGyver teased. "We love you, anyway."

"Thank heaven for my kids. They aren't impressed at all."

"They are, actually. They just think they have to save face by hiding it."

"Please, Dad, leave me my illusions."

"You mean delusions."

"Yeah, probably."

"Let's get this done. I promised Alice I'd have you home by Saturday."

"You're the boss, Boss."

They laughed, teasing each other, as they gathered the kids, letting them watch the Phoenix strike team cart off their captors. MacGyver reached up, tousling Dennis' hair, as if he were still a young child. Dennis let him, soaking up his Dad's love and pride. Draping an arm around MacGyver's shoulder, Dennis rested contentedly against him, as they prepared to be flown out, to their waiting family.

comments

Letter

Sat, 06 Apr 2019 01:57:03 GMT

Dear Mr. MacGyver,

Hi! I hope it's okay for me to write to you. My foster parents weren't sure, but said to go ahead and try. They told me my dad tried to escape, so I can't visit him for a while. It made me sad, when I was told that. I miss my dad, a lot. That's why I'm writing.

I know Dad shouldn't have tried to escape. I understand that he does bad things and you have to stop him. I don't mind that. I wish he didn't do bad things. I'm kind of glad I don't know much about the bad things. I know he has to be in jail. I know you're a good person. Dad even likes you, even though you stop him and stuff.

Please, can you talk to someone and get them to let me see my dad again? Please? I know you have to punish him, but do you have to use me to do it? See, you're not just punishing him. You're punishing me, too! I need my dad. I need to see he's okay. Though, I think sometimes he isn't okay and just pretends to be.

I don't understand why he turned himself in, then tried to escape. I guess he must have been really unhappy. I don't want my dad to be unhappy, even if he can't be free. Remember, he turned himself in for me. He always does stuff for me.

I love my dad, Mr. MacGyver. I don't care, if that makes me bad, too. I don't want to be bad, but I'm not going to stop loving my dad.

I want you to know I'm not angry at you. You have to do your job. That's okay. If you can't help, I understand. But, you've always been nice to me, so I hope you'll try. If I can't see him, can you make sure he's okay for me? I don't want him to be lonely, until I can see him again.

Anyway, I hope you don't mind me writing you and that you're doing good too. Thank you!

Cassian

p.s. You can show this to people, if you want to. Maybe it will help.

comments

embers

Fri, 15 Mar 2019 15:37:34 GMT

Dance little Ember, in the flame of Family!
Never alone, never alone.
How quick and bright our little lights, uniting!
Lighting us home, lighting us home.
Dance in the loving flames of God's holy light,
Healing our souls, healing our souls.

Some embers fade from our sight, hidden from view.
Never despair, never despair.
Remember what isn't seen is merely elsewhere,
Eternally bright, eternally bright,
Be comforted knowing light never dies, only changes,
Children of God, Children of God.

How warm and rich the flame of our Family,
Comfort and hope, comfort and hope,
Our Love surmounts every limit of time, place, and person,
Lighting the world, lighting the world,
You are loved, even by those not knowing your name!
Rejoice little Ember, Rejoice little Ember.

God is eternal, powerful, and bright. The light is His!
He loves us, He loves us.
Family and love are riches and joy, uniting us,
Gifts He gives, Gifts He gives.
You're never alone; our flame burns all over the world!
Praise the Lord, Praise the Lord!

comments

bb!Murdoc

Sat, 29 Dec 2018 06:17:28 GMT

Phoenix Foundation 7 A.M.

Mac stared at the large screen of the conference room. It was split between two pictures. The first was a photo of a spacious cabin, in a mountain setting. The second showed a middle-aged man, with a bland face and greying hair. Matty stood close to the screen, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips.

"The man on the right is Emil Cordstone. He's a known assassin, who just happens to own the charming little cottage on the left. Cordstone was also part of Murdoc's Collective, one of those that betrayed him. For the past two months, Cordstone has been holed up in his cabin, trying to avoid Murdoc's wrath."

"So, we're thinking Murdoc will show up soon and we're staking this place out?" Jack guessed. "See, now, Mac, aren't you glad you didn't go haring off back to Nigeria, after helping me take down Mareks?"

"We thought Murdoc would show up eventually and we've been staking the place out for weeks," Matty pointedly interrupted. "The latest food and supplies delivery happened two days ago. Our men saw the food was delivered and accepted."

"So. What's changed?" MacGyver asked.

"Three days ago Emil Cordstone was found dead deep inside a cave system five miles from the cabin. He's been dead for about a week, now."

"So, we think Murdoc is in the cabin, now?" Bozer concluded.

"We suspect so, yes. You're all going in to get him and bring him back into custody. And, don't go in guns blazing, Jack. Remember, Cassian is most likely with him."

"Yeah, I gotcha," Jack agreed, grimly.

Colorado mountains 9 A.M.

They surrounded the cabin, a couple of soldiers assisting, under Jack's command. Riley, Wilt, and one soldier, Allen, went to the back door, while Jack, MacGyver, and the other soldier, Dave, went to the front door. MacGyver noted with interest that some of the trees and ground nearby were blackened and scorched. With Jack at his shoulder, MacGyver approached the door, intending to pick it open.

Instead, the door cracked open and he could just see Cassian's small form inside.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice wavering.

"Cassian, my name is Angus MacGyver..."

Before MacGyver could finish, Cassian opened the door. His cheeks were stained with tears. He trembled, staring up at MacGyver with both fear and hope.

"Are you all right?" MacGyver asked.

"My dad," the boy said, swallowing hard.

"It's okay, kid," Jack said, kindly. "What'd he do?"

"Do?" Cassian asked, confused.

"Jack, hush," MacGyver said severely. "Go on, Cassian. Tell us what's wrong?"

"Dad went to bed a bit early last night, but he hadn't gotten up and he never sleeps this late. When I heard you approaching, I went to wake him and..."

"Cassian, why don't you take us to your dad and let us take a look?"

"You're not going to believe this, even once you see it."

Cassian led them into Murdoc's bedroom and the men just stood, gaping. Murdoc's body was covered in long fibers, brightly colored in reds, yellows, and greens, that stood out against the cream colored sheets. Only his head, neck, hands, and feet were clear. Murdoc was sleeping uneasily, his eyes rolling behind his lids. Looking at his dad, Cassian's began crying, his shoulders shaking.

"Go tell the others to come inside and join us," Jack told Dave, who nodded once and left.

"Cassian, can you tell us what happened?"

"We...we were playing outside last night," Cassian said, taking deep breaths to stop his crying. "We were building a snowman and throwing snowballs. And...I had gone in for a moment. When I came out a meteor hit. Really small, but Dad said most of it would've burned up in the air."

"How bad was he hurt?"

Cassian squeezed his eyes shut, shrugging helplessly.

"He didn't seem to be hurt bad. Some bits of it bounced up from the ground and hit him, but he...he said there were just some cuts. He said he was just a bit scorched," Cassian complained.

"He seemed to be okay the rest of the night, though."

"Yeah. We had dinner and everything."

"So, everything seemed fine, when he went to bed?" MacGyver asked, kindly.

"Yeah. He said it was just some cuts," Cassian repeated, his voice breaking, beginning to cry again.

"Hey, hey now!" Jack protested, though in a soft voice. "Don't be giving up on him yet. He's still alive and your dad's a pretty tough guy."

"What could do this to him?" Cassian asked, distressed.

"We're going to try and find out. I took a picture and texted Matty. A Foundation medical team is on its way," Bozer said, quietly, from the doorway.

They looked around to see the rest of the team standing just inside the doorway, stunned.

"Good," MacGyver said, sighing. He knelt down in front of Cassian. "Cassian, listen. You're not going to be able to stay here and nothing can be done for your dad right now. Why don't you go pack your things, while we wait for the doctor to get here? Okay?"

"Mr. MacGyver, do you have any idea what's happening to my dad?" Cassian pleaded.

"I'm sorry. I'll be honest. I don't think anyone will. This is new. Really, really new. All we can promise is to do our best to help him."

Cassian grimaced, then took a deep breath, nodding.

"Okay. I'll get our stuff."

"My name is Riley, Cassian. Would you like some help?"

"Yes, thank you," Cassian said quietly.

"We'll pack your dad's stuff that's in here," MacGyver assured him.

Riley followed Cassian to his bedroom. It was a simple room, but comfortable. The bed covers were a generic blue, but there were toys and kids books strewn around. A small table, that didn't fit the bedroom set, had been wedged into one corner and was covered with coloring books, paper, crayons, and pencils, plain and colored. On top of the dresser was a recent photo of Murdoc and Cassian. They were sitting on a fountain, in some plaza, and Cassian seemed half asleep. He was leaning against Murdoc's side, with his head on his dad's chest. Murdoc had his arms around Cassian's shoulders and was smiling down at him. Riley shook her head in amazement. Murdoc's expression was...gentle.

"A lady took that photo. She saw us sitting there and just snapped it off with her phone. Dad was upset at first, but she offered him a copy. There was a photo kiosk in a store nearby. She told Dad he was handsome and we looked really sweet," Cassian said, giggling a bit.

"Well, she's not wrong about that," Riley admitted, dryly. "I can't imagine your dad liking a stranger taking his picture, though."

"I think she was trying to flirt, but Dad just wanted the photo. She was nice, though. She understood, when Dad asked her to delete the photo, after she gave him a copy."

Somehow, Riley doubted Murdoc had merely "asked."

"Well, don't forget to take that with you."

"I won't."

They worked quietly for the half hour that passed, before the medical team arrived. A young doctor named Peter Carmen and two EMTs, carrying equipment, went immediately to the bedroom. Cassian silently followed them in, along with MacGyver and his friends, who spread out to give the doctor room. Cassian stood close to MacGyver, almost pressed against him.

Carmen hid his shock and doubts, doing his best to examine Murdoc. He attached wires and patches, that connected to monitors. MacGyver watched as he checked Murdoc's pulse and listened to his breathing. Finally, Carmen sat back, sighing.

"Well, he's certainly alive and I have no real reason to think that will change any time soon," Carmen told them, soberly. "That's not to say he isn't in any danger, of course. But, his pulse and breathing are strong and steady. Is that his boy?"

"I'm Cassian," he said, stepping forward.

"Hello, Cassian. I'm Dr. Carmen. Right now, your father seems to be sleeping naturally, at least mostly. My main, immediate concern is making sure he gets nutrients and stays hydrated. Do you know what that means?"

"Food and water?"

"Good, that's right," Carmen praised. "I have to put an i.v. into your dad, before this covering gets any worse, but these fibers have already covered his wrists and the back of his hands. The only veins available are in his neck. Now, that's going to look really scary, but it's to help him. It won't hurt him, not more than a sting, and there won't be much blood. Okay?"

"Yes, sir," Cassian agreed, nervously.

"Okay. I'm going to do that, right now," Carmen said, walking over to the bed.

Carmen handed an i.v. bag to the taller EMT, Mike, stretching the tubing to reach Murdoc. He got himself and Murdoc ready, then found a vein. Gently, but firmly, he inserted the needle. Murdoc woke up, making a harsh sound that was too weak to be a scream. He tried to thrash around, but the covering held him still.

"Mr. Murdoc, stop. I have to bandage the i.v.!"

"Who are you?" Murdoc choked out, his voice faltering. "Cassian!"

"I'm right here, Dad," Cassian said, going to Murdoc's other side. "It's okay. This is Dr. Carmen. Let him help you."

Murdoc stopped struggling, doing his best to study Cassian.

"Cassian? You're okay?"

"I'm fine, Dad," Cassian promised, smiling bravely, his eyes still wet.

"Sorry, kiddo. Not giving up on me yet, are you?"

"No, Dad."

"Mr. Murdoc..."

"Who sent you?" Murdoc grated, his eyes wary. "How did you get here?"

"Matty sent him," MacGyver answered, stepping into Murdoc's view.

"Angus!" Murdoc exclaimed, amazed. "Always surprising me. Pleasantly, of course."

"I can't say this is a pleasant surprise," MacGyver retorted, gesturing at the fibers. "Dr. Carmen is trying to figure out what's going on."

"Hm. Sure," Murdoc agreed.

Dr. Carmen finished setting up the i.v. and sat down next to Murdoc.

"I need to ask you some questions."

"Well, you better hurry. It's hard to stay awake."

"Are you in pain?"

"Mm, no, actually. Just some light itching in places."

"Was there any sign of this, before you got hit with meteor fragments?"

"No. Pretty sure that's what caused this."

"Are you experiencing any other symptoms? How do you feel?"

"Trapped. Mm. Warm and sleepy. Worried about Cassian."

"Are you experiencing any other physical sensations? Hunger? Thirst? You seem to be having trouble speaking," Carmen prodded.

"None of that. Just, really tired and weak. Nothing's caught in my throat."

"Dad. Daddy, I'm scared," Cassian admitted, making Murdoc wince.

"Don't be afraid. I'll beat this," Murdoc swore. "Until then, you listen to Mr. MacGyver and his friends, okay?"

Cassian nodded, then pressed his cheek to Murdoc's temple.

"I will, Dad," Cassian promised. "Please be okay."

"Angus," Murdoc whispered, visibly struggling to stay awake. "Take care of my kid?"

"Yeah. We'll protect him."

"Cassian. Gonna sleep now. It'll be okay."

Cassian lifted his head, then kissed Murdoc's cheek.

"That's my good pal," Murdoc whispered, his eyes closing.

"Okay, let's get him on a stretcher," Carmen instructed.

"It's time to go, Cassian," MacGyver said, gently.

"I don't want to leave him!"

"We're all going to the same place, for now, then we'll see how things work out," Jack promised.

Phoenix Foundation. 11:30 A.M.

Cassian stared through the glass window that separated him from his dad's hospital room. MacGyver had explained that they couldn't take his dad to a regular hospital, because they knew too little about what was going on. All they really knew was that Murdoc was now entirely covered by the strange fibers. Nothing of him was visible, though the i.v. remained in his neck. Dr. Carmen had assured Cassian that Murdoc's heartbeat was strong and his oxygen levels were normal.

Evidently, except for being encased in fibers, his dad was just fine.

Mr. MacGyver and his friends were all finding reasons to stay close by. Cassian wasn't sure if it was out of concern for him and his dad or curiosity, but he was glad they were there. Mr. Bozer was helping with the lab work, while Miss Riley sat at a lab table, doing research on his dad's condition. Mr. Jack just seemed to hover, looking worried and stern. Mr. MacGyver sat near him, sometimes, offering support, while sometimes talking with his friends, spinning theories and making suggestions.

Dr. Carmen came out of the hospital room and approached, smiling with kind reassurance.

"Hello again, Cassian. So, right now, your father is stable. I'm going to start trying to...well to help him. The more we know, the better chance I have of doing that."

"What's that stuff all over him?"

"That's one of the things we need to find out. I'm going to try and cut a small section of the fibers away. That will hopefully give me an idea of how far into your father they go and how safe it would be to just remove them. It will also let me study them and find out what they're made of. Does that sound good to you?"

"Yes, sir," Cassian agreed.

"Good. I'll try and let you know what we're doing, before we do it, but that might not always be possible. I'm going to need some trust from you in return. Agreed?"

"Yeah, okay. I can stay here, then, right?"

"For now, yes," Dr. Carmen promised. "Later today, I'm sure Director Webber will have to make arrangements for your room and board. After all, your father will be expecting us to take good care of you, won't he?"

"Yes. He told Mr. MacGyver to take care of me."

"Well, then, you stick close to Mr. MacGyver and we'll get started on helping your father."

Dr. Carmen turned, going back into the lab. If only for the boy's sake, he hoped he could help Murdoc. Taking a pair of surgery scissors, he placed a hand on Murdoc's foot. Choosing a small area on Murdoc's heel, Carmen cut away some of the fibrous covering.

It was a mistake.

Murdoc's vital signs went haywire, his oxygen dropping and his heart rate increasing wildly. A grayish liquid flowed to the area of the cut and hardened in seconds, forming a scar. Carmen backed off and, over a few minutes, Murdoc's vitals slowly stabilized. Cassian burst in and Carmen sighed. Of course, the boy was watching everything. He turned to Cassian with a rueful smile.

"Don't worry. We won't try that again."

"It hurt him! Why did it hurt him?" Cassian asked, almost in a panic.

"I don't know. I wish I had answers for you, Cassian, but I don't. We're going to wait a little while. He's stable again, so it's safe to do that."

"What happens, if he starts getting worse?"

"Then, I'll do what I can to help him, to the best of my knowledge. The i.v. is still in place, so I can still give him medicine, if necessary."

"Can't you give him something now?"

"I wouldn't know which ones to try, Cassian. If I gave him the wrong ones, they could hurt him, instead of healing him. We have to be cautious," Carmen said, guiding him back out into the outer room.

"Well...okay," Cassian conceded, reluctantly.

MacGyver came into the room, smiling gently. He handed Cassian a bag from McDonald's.

"I thought you might be hungry. We weren't sure, if you had eaten breakfast or not."

"Thank you," Cassian said, taking a couple of fries from the bag. "It's not going too good."

"Look. I can't promise you'll get your dad back. But, I can promise that, either way, we'll make sure you end up in a good place. I know you'll miss your dad, if worse comes to worst, but your safety was...is his first priority."

"Yeah," Cassian agreed quietly.

"Let's go over to the table and eat. Take your mind off of it for a bit."

They sat down and ate quietly for a few moments. MacGyver noticed the way Cassian's head hung down and the circles under his eyes. The boy was exhausted. Despite his age, MacGyver wondered if he should encourage Cassian to take a nap. He was still debating, when Carmen came and sat down with them. Cassian stared at him with wide eyes.

"It's all right. There was some...movement a few minutes ago. It looked almost like ripples moving along the casing your father is in. But, his vital signs are still well within normal ranges."

"What if those aren't his? What if your machines are picking up the signs of...whatever that thing is? What if it's eating him?"

"Cassian!" MacGyver scolded gently. "Imagining stuff like that isn't going to make things better. It's way too soon to give up hope."

"That's true. Whatever that stuff is, it isn't alive. I did manage to get a small sample clear, earlier. That stuff...it's like hair. Dead tissue."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," MacGyver assured Cassian. "You're scared and you have every right to be. Just try not to assume or imagine the worst, okay?"

"Okay. I need the bathroom, please."

"Go out the door to the right and it's the third door on the left."

Once Cassian was gone, Carmen gave a tired sigh.

"I can't tell the boy this, but after those ripples...there wasn't a decrease in mass, per se, but there was a change, of sorts. The outline of his body became less clear."

"So, something could be eating him?"

"I doubt it. Those vitals signs are definitely his. But, something is happening inside there. I tried to take x-rays, but they didn't penetrate the fibers."

"Weird. So, there's really nothing you can do. Not without endangering Murdoc."

"Right. We might end up getting answers only from his corpse."

"You think he's going to die."

"I don't know what to think."

Cassian came in and both men plastered on confident smiles.

"I better get back to my patient. I'll speak with you again soon."

Phoenix lab. 1:15 P.M.

The ripples continued and Murdoc's body became even less visible, the cover over him rising up, becoming shaped more and more like a cocoon. As Carmen tried his best to get a blood sample from Murdoc, Bozer came in with a lab analysis.

"Those fibers are some weird stuff, man. They're definitely made up of strands of protein but they're acting kinda like lignin. Like, it's a protein version of coconut fibers."

"Were the techs able to come up with any theories on their function?" Carmen asked.

"Not really, unless they're just to protect him or keep him in place or something. I mean, they seem to be doing that, right?"

"That's certainly possible," Carmen agreed. "I was hoping to get a blood sample, but the covering is absolutely complete and impenetrable."

"Guy was a psycho, but I never would've wished this on him."

"Or anyone else," Carmen agreed.

A hissing, grating noise came from the bed. Turning, Carmen and Bozer watched as a seam opened up along the bottom edge of the cocoon, leaving a small gap. They started to approach, Carmen's mind already formulating methods of examination, but they didn't happen. The cocoon heaved and a mass of bloody, chunky liquid was expelled in a great wave from the seam. Bozer gagged as much from the pinkish, gray liquid as from the foul coppery smell.

"Dad!" Cassian screamed, despairing, then burst into the room, almost sliding on the edges of the mess on the floor.

MacGyver was right behind him, trying to pull him back.

"Cassian! Come on. You shouldn't see this."

"NO! He's my dad! I want my DAD!" Cassian screamed, struggling against the gentle, but firm, grip MacGyver had on his shoulders.

"His heartbeat is up, but just barely above normal ranges," Carmen told them, awed.

"Your stupid machines are LIARS!" Cassian sobbed. "Dad!"

"Cassian, please let Mac take you back outside, okay? We'll let you know...look, if he is gone, do you want this to be the last sight you have of him?" Bozer urged.

Cassian didn't answer, but turned around to MacGyver, burying his face against his chest and sobbing. He stopped, when screaming and crying started up behind him. All eyes focused on the remnants of the cocoon. Another seam had opened at the top and Murdoc was struggling to free himself.

At least, they had to assume the small child struggling out was Murdoc.

"That's not possible," Cassian said quietly, pointing at the other boy.

"I wouldn't have thought so," Carmen agreed, then shrugged helplessly. "But, it looks like I would have been wrong."

Bozer gently grabbed Murdoc, pulling him free from the cocoon.

"He's a toddler," MacGyver said, confused and amazed. "Why would it turn him into a toddler?"

"I don't know, but we gotta get him cleaned up," Bozer said.

"Bozer, can you and your friends take care of him for a few minutes? I need to get samples of everything in here for analysis. That might provide us a few answers."

"Yeah, he seems okay physically. I'll let you know, if he starts getting sick or anything."

Bozer carried a still-crying Murdoc into the outer room of the lab. Riley and Jack stood outside, near the window, gaping in shock.

"Is that really him?"

"I don't see how it could be anyone else," MacGyver answered, shrugging. "Cassian, come sit down. It's okay. He's alive, at least. I'm going to go get Matty."

Cassian obeyed, staring in shock, as Bozer took Murdoc to the sink and ran some warm water. He used a sprayer to begin rinsing off the worst of the mess on him. Murdoc struggled, as Bozer ran the sprayer over his hair, still crying loudly.

"Hey, quit it!" Bozer ordered.

"Nuuu!"

"Hold on, Bozer," Jack said, going to the supply area.

"We can't leave this crap in his hair."

"It's getting in his eyes," Jack said. "Kids hate that. Murdoc!"

Murdoc didn't respond, continuing to struggle and trying to shove the sprayer away. Jack approached with a towel, trying again to get Murdoc's attention.

"C'mon, 'doc, work with us here."

Murdoc again ignored his name, placing his hands over his eyes and crying.

"Dennis!" Riley said.

Murdoc stopped crying abruptly, looking up at her and whimpering softly.

"Yeah, I thought so," Riley said, smiling a bit. "That's what Helman called him."

"Yeah, okay, fine," Jack said, sighing. "Dennis, then. We gotta wash your hair, bud. Put that over your eyes."

Murdoc took the small towel from Jack, looking confused and touching his eyes.

"Eyes? Mine?"

"Yeah, eyes, so we can wash your hair."

"No!" Murdoc piped in his new, child's voice, dropping the towel onto the floor.

"Look, kid..."

"Let me try," Cassian said softly, coming over and picking up the towel. "Let them, Dad. Look. You got stuff in your hair."

Cassian ran trembling fingers through Murdoc's hair, scooping up some of the mess and showing it to him. Murdoc's nose wrinkled.

"Yugg."

"Yeah, yuck. You gotta get clean," Cassian said.

Murdoc took the towel, but didn't seem to get the idea. Gently, Jack took the towel and pressed it over Murdoc's eyes. Murdoc whined, but held still long enough for Bozer to take some soap and wash his hair. Once the mess from Murdoc's hair went down the drain, Bozer put the stopper in the sink and began running warm water for a bath. Murdoc was delighted, giving a squealing laugh. He clapped his hands through the water coming from the tap, then splashed the water gathering in the bottom of the sink. Bozer couldn't resist reaching into the water and sending small splashes at the now-tiny Murdoc. He just laughed, sending larger, careless splashes back.

Cassian laughed, too, but there was sorrow in it.

"You okay, Cassian?" Bozer asked.

"Sure. He's alive," Cassian said softly.

"Y'know, there's nothing to say this is permanent," Jack said. "He could hit a couple of fast growth spurts and get back to normal or maybe Carmen can do something."

Cassian didn't answer, looking troubled, as he watched Murdoc play in the water. After a few moments, MacGyver and Matty came in, with another woman, taking in the scene with wide eyes. Murdoc looked up, as the lab door closed, and grinned, making grabby hands at them.

"Mat-ee! Ang's! Ang's!" Murdoc called out, happily.

"Yes, hello," Matty said, amused. "Cassian, I'm Matty Webber. I'm the director here."

"Hello," Cassian greeted, over Murdoc, who slowly chanted, "Mat-ee. Ang's," over and over.

"He-he remembers us," Riley said, a bit confused and wary.

"Well, he remembers your names, at least," the new woman replied. "Children generally start being able to say and remember names around eighteen months. That's when their vocabulary starts really building. I'm Miriam Turner. I'm a child psychologist. Matty wants me to work with Murdoc."

"Dennis. He doesn't seem to recognize the name Murdoc," Jack told her.

Miriam came up to the sink, smiling gently. Murdoc looked up at her and began crying, holding his hands out to Jack, who was closest.

"Whoa, what's the matter, Baby 'doc?" Jack asked, taking the towel and wrapping Murdoc in it, before picking him up.

"Her. No, no."

"He might be shy of strangers. They can be at that age. I'm going to back off a bit," Miriam said, moving away a couple of feet, away from all of the others. "Ask him your names or give him a name and ask him to point at that person."

"Okay," MacGyver agreed dubiously. "Dennis. Where's Riley?"

"Riley," Murdoc repeated, pointing at her, his tears stopping.

"Where's Dennis?" Bozer asked.

Murdoc patted his own chest, smiling a bit.

"Where's Murdoc?" Jack asked, smirking.

Murdoc tilted his head to look at Jack, frowning and shrugging.

"No?"

"Okay. Hey. What's my name? Tell me who I am," Bozer said.

"Bozshr."

"Try body parts now," Miriam instructed.

"Dennis, can you show me your nose?" Riley asked, laughing at the slightly cross-eyed look Murdoc made, as he pointed to his nose.

"How about a chin?" Jack asked.

Murdoc placed his finger on Jack's chin.

"No, your chin."

Murdoc touched his own chin, giggling.

"What's this, Dennis?" MacGyver asked, gently touching Murdoc's ear.

"Ear."

"Good job, little guy."

"What's this?" Cassian asked, touching his own hair.

"'Air."

"Hair, very good," Matty praised. "Well, Miriam?"

"Jack, can you set him down? I want to see him try and walk."

Jack set Murdoc down and left him room to move about. He started with crawling, but pulled himself up after a moment. He wobbled on his feet, almost falling, but then caught himself. He walked over to Cassian, wrapping his arms around Cassian's legs.

"Hi, Dad," Cassian said, stroking his hair.

"Cass'n!" Murdoc said, before babbling a bit at him.

"Um. Yeah. Okay," Cassian agreed, a bit helplessly.

"Don't worry about what he's saying. It's the back and forth of conversation that's important, not the words," Miriam assured him.

"Okay. Hi, Dad, you feeling better?" Cassian told him, smiling.

"Yah. Bet-uwr?"

"Good, let's see how he does walking longer distances."

"Dennis, come here, please," Matty said, holding out her hands.

Murdoc made a happy, burbling sound, walking clumsily over to Matty and hugging her.

"Very good," she praised, patting his back.

"Is anyone else a bit weirded out, that apparently we really are Murdoc's favorite people?" Bozer asked, quietly.

No one knew what to say, especially with Cassian present, settling for rueful smiles and thoughtful glances at Murdoc and each other.

"Hm. Let's see, if he'll let me come near now."

Miriam walked closer to Murdoc and Matty. She got almost close enough to reach out and touch, when Murdoc let out a long stream of angry baby babbling, shaking his pointer finger at her and breathing anxiously.

"Miriam, stop," Matty instructed, rubbing Murdoc's back, soothingly. "Dennis. You can trust her. I trust her."

"Nuuu. Bad," Murdoc whined, burying his face against Matty's stomach.

"Okay, apparently not," Miriam conceded, backing off, but not as far as before.

"Not to be gross or anything, but is he old enough to use the bathroom by himself?" Cassian asked.

"No, he's not," Matty said, sighing. "He needs a diaper and clothes, too."

"It'd be huge on him, but he could wear one of my t-shirts."

"That's a good idea, Cassian. I'll go get one. Your case is just outside," MacGyver said, heading for the door.

As soon as the door shut between them, Murdoc burst into tears, making grabby hands in MacGyver's direction.

"NO! No bye. No bye!"

"For heaven's sake, Baby 'doc, he'll be right back," Jack scolded gently.

A couple of minutes later, MacGyver came back in, a blue t-shirt and a pull-up in his hand, then frowned, puzzled, at Murdoc, who had his hands over his eyes, sobbing.

"What happened?"

"His favorite person left the room," Riley quipped, amused. "You broke his heart, Mac."

"Well, his favorite one of us," Matty amended, smiling gently at Cassian, who shrugged, smiling slightly.

"Sorry about that," MacGyver said dryly, kneeling in front of Murdoc and gently wiping tears off his cheek. "Hey, calm down. It's okay. Fortunately, Agent Gregson has a kid his age and just happened to have a spare diaper."

Murdoc stopped crying, looking up at MacGyver and smiling.

MacGyver held the shirt out, so he could slip it over Murdoc's head, telling him, "Here. I have something for you."

"No!" Murdoc said, loudly, turning and trying to run away.

Jack caught him, as he stumbled, lifting him up.

"C'mon, Dennis, time to get dressed."

"No-ohh," Murdoc repeated, slumping down at the waist, so his head was hanging towards the floor.

"Um, yes? You can't go around naked, kiddo," Riley told him.

"Nek'd?"

"Yeah, you got a naked, little butt," Bozer reminded him.

"Butt?" Murdoc repeated, reaching up and grabbing his bottom.

Laughing, Jack pulled Murdoc upright and MacGyver maneuvered his legs into the pull-up, dragging it up over his hips. While Murdoc patted curiously at the diaper, MacGyver slipped the shirt over his head.

"Oof," Murdoc huffed, shaking his head.

"Hands," MacGyver instructed, kindly.

Reluctantly, Murdoc held out his hands, one at a time, allowing MacGyver to slip them through the armholes. Carmen entered the area again, smiling slightly.

"I hate to ask this, but can you take him somewhere else for a bit? There's a lot of evidence and samples to be collected, so I have a team coming in."

"In a minute. Dr. Carmen, try approaching Dennis, please," Matty ordered.

Carmen obeyed, standing directly in front of Jack and Murdoc. Murdoc stared up at him, solemn, but calm. Miriam hummed.

"Interesting. See if he'll let you hold him."

"Can I hold you for a minute, Dennis?" Carmen asked, holding out his hands.

Murdoc shook his head, leaning further into Jack's shoulder, but not fussing. Carmen held out his stethoscope, then pulled it away from Murdoc's hands.

"I'm surprised he's letting me hold him, actually," Jack said.

"Well, at least let me listen, okay? Can I listen?" Carmen asked.

Murdoc touched his own ear, looking puzzled.

"That's right," Carmen agreed, resting his stethoscope on Murdoc's chest. "Can you lean him forward a bit, Agent Dalton?"

Jack cooperated, angling Murdoc around. Carmen put the stethoscope against his back and listened, then nodded in approval.

"His heart rate and breathing are both just fine. He seems to be in good health. He'll need monitoring, of course, but, for now, this appears to be over."

"So, how much cognitive memory is he likely to have? He definitely knows us," MacGyver said.

"Mm, not really," Miriam corrected. "Beyond your names, he probably has nearly no cognitive memory, as you say, at all. All of his cognitive development, so far, seems age appropriate to, well, his current size."

"But, he does have some recognition of us," Riley argued.

"Certainly, but a child's mind, especially at this age, just isn't developed enough to retain the memories of an adult with Murdoc's experiences. Not consciously, anyway. What he does have is emotional memory, if you will. He knows how he feels about people and, perhaps, objects."

"So, why does he react well to Carmen, but not to you?"

"Well, Murdoc's lifestyle would make wariness of strangers necessary. That instinct could still be with him, in addition to a child's natural fear of strangers. Murdoc met Carmen, before this happened, right? That could have left him with a neutral to positive emotional impression. I never met the adult Murdoc. He has no impression of me to guide him."

"So, he knows he loves me, but doesn't know he's my dad?" Cassian asked.

"I believe so," Miriam agreed.

"All right. We'll run with that for now. Let's go to the conference room and let Dr. Carmen continue his work."

Phoenix hallway 2:30 P.M.

Everyone, except Carmen, filed out into the hallway. Matty led the way towards the conference room, but motioned everyone to one side, when a couple of Phoenix agents passed by with a prisoner. They had a middle-aged man, with long, dark hair held in a ponytail, in cuffs and walking between them. As they walked past Jack, Murdoc frowned and blew raspberries at the prisoner. The man stopped, glaring at Murdoc.

"Up yours, too, kid!"

"MMmmph!" Murdoc grunted, angrily, turning and burying his face in Jack's neck to sulk.

"Hey, Baby 'doc, why so rude?" Jack asked, chuckling, but confused. He looked at the prisoner and frowned. "Wait. I recognize you."

"You should. He was there, during the exchange with Fletcher," MacGyver told him, amused.

"Oh! You're a member of the Collective!" Jack crowed. "Looks like we got you, now."

"I turned myself in," the prisoner snarled. "We gift-wrapped that crazy bastard for you and you let him get away. Let's see, if you can do a better job keeping him out, than you did keeping him in."

"Yeah, let's just see about that," Jack agreed, openly gloating and patting Murdoc's back.

"Get rid of him," Matty ordered the other agents. "Come on."

"Y'know, you started all that, Baby 'doc," Jack told him, as he followed Matty into the conference room.

Murdoc just blew more raspberries, not looking up from Jack's shoulder. Jack set him down, near one of the chairs, letting him move around.

"Miriam, what are your thoughts on how old he is?"

"Physically, I'd say he's about fifteen or sixteen months old. He can walk, but he's still a bit wobbly. He's more advanced, mentally. Mentally and emotionally, I'd say he's about nineteen or twenty months. So, we already know Murdoc was physically healthy and very intelligent. So my best guess is he's seventeen, maybe eighteen months. He's probably a bit small for his age, but smart."

Murdoc wobbled by, trying to bypass Miriam to get to Riley, who had sat down and opened up her laptop. He started to grab the back of the laptop and Miriam instinctively reached out to stop him, pulling him gently back. Murdoc screamed, twisting around and hitting at her.

"No, no hitting," Miriam said firmly, her voice calm, but Murdoc didn't listen.

Sitting down on the floor, Murdoc screamed and cried, thumping his hands against the floor.

"Okay, it's nap time," Matty declared, making Murdoc cry even harder. "Jack, Macgyver, go shopping. He needs diapers, pull-ups maybe, and clothes. Jack has nieces and nephews, so he should be able to guess sizes. Get him some toys, too. Bozer, go help Carmen and get your own lab work done. Riley, you can work on your own projects. Miriam...thank you. You can go for now. We'll talk more later."

Everyone gave a chorus of agreement, everyone, except Riley, standing and preparing to go to their allotted tasks.

"Jack, place him on the couch, before you go."

While Jack obeyed, Matty turned to Cassian.

"I know you're too old, generally, for naps, but it's been a long, hard day. Why don't you go lay down in my office for a bit? He'll be fine."

"Can I lay down with him?" Cassian asked.

"No," Matty said, with gentle firmness. "He's throwing a fit and I don't want that reinforced. He needs to calm down and sleep."

"Okay. Through there?" Cassian asked, pointing towards her door.

"That's right. Go ahead, now."

Matty turned to the couch, where Murdoc was sitting up, crying.

"Lay down, Dennis."

"Noo," Murdoc cried out, shaking his head.

"Yes," Matty said firmly. "You're tired and need sleep."

"Uh uh," Murdoc fussed, knocking himself against the back of the couch.

"Dennis. Lay down," Matty said, gently guiding him down onto his side.

"ANG'S!" Murdoc yelled, sitting back up.

"He's gone shopping. Now, lay your head down."

Angrily, Murdoc flounced down against the cushions, whining.

"I know, you're angry and exhausted. Go to sleep."

Soon enough, Murdoc's crying and whining softened to sniffles, before settling into the soft breathing of deep sleep. His thumb made its way into his mouth. Matty sighed, reaching out to gently stroke his hair.

"Keep an eye on him, please, Riley. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Sure, Matty."

Matty left, glancing at the wall clock. It was a little after two. She sighed. It was too soon for everything to be magically resolved, but she began making plans for where the children would sleep that night. She passed by Robbie Jenkins' open office door, amused to see him ignoring a half-eaten lunch, in favor of knitting. She gave a brief knock on his door, before walking in.

"What are you making, Robbie?"

"Baby blankets, ironically enough. Is it true about Murdoc getting 'de-aged?'"

"I realize that's going to become common knowledge around here. We are an agency of spies, after all, but don't flaunt it. And, don't talk about it outside of work."

"Of course not. Would you like a blanket for him? I donate half of these anyway," Robbie said, pushing a large tote full of blankets towards her.

"That's kind of you," Matty said, impressed.

"He's gonna be in diapers and go through puberty again. That's punishment enough in my books."

Matty made an amused noise, looking through the blankets, which weren't just blankets. At one corner of each blanket was the head of an animal or character. The blanket itself was colored to match the head. Matty was impressed by their quality. She doubted a professional could do much better. She found a fox, done in a lovely, brownish red. Marty had managed to give the fox a slightly sly, amused look. Matty took out two twenty dollar bills and gave them to him.

"Don't argue. Take the money," she ordered, then smiled. "Thank you, Robbie."

"You're welcome."

Conference room. 3:30 P.M

Matty ran her errands, taking reports and checking on various agents, before heading back to the conference room. Inside, she found Riley typing away. Bozer was back, too, going through a stack of reports. Murdoc was still sleeping soundly. Matty placed the blanket over him, placing the fox's head near to Murdoc's.

"He's barely twitched and Cassian's asleep, too," Riley reported softly.

"Good. They both need it, though we can't let them sleep too long."

"What's going to happen to them?" Bozer asked.

"I'm not entirely sure. I'd like to keep them together, but...Murdoc presents a unique set of problems."

"I created some identity papers, social security and all, for him. It'd only take a few keystrokes to get them into the proper databanks."

"Not quite yet," Matty decided. "First thing tomorrow, probably."

"I've been sitting here, watching him and...how does a little kid like that end up, well, Murdoc?" Riley asked.

"Bad role models, no role models, certain mental illnesses...I don't really believe in bad seeds. No one is just bad, with no choice in the matter."

"You really think he's a sociopath? I mean, other than him being an assassin, there's no proof. All we have is his word for it and, with him, 'unreliable narrator' is a huge understatement," Bozer pointed out.

"It's possible. That's one reason I brought Miriam in on this. She's good at her job, which means being good with kids."

MacGyver and Jack came back in, carrying several bags, including some from a local fried chicken joint. MacGyver set the clothes bags at the end of the couch, while Jack unpacked the food onto the table, passing around drinks. He set the two Sprites he'd gotten for the children on the table.

"Okay, really?" Matty asked, seeing the food.

"Hey, be proud of us!" Jack protested. "We got all kinds of good things and we got the clothes all laundered and ready to wear."

"Good job, guys."

She turned her attention to MacGyver, who was gazing rather sadly down at Murdoc.

"Mac?"

"How are we going to find someone to take care of him? We can't give him to some random person, no matter how good-natured. Just because he can't remember now, doesn't mean he never will. He needs someone who knows who he was, so they can protect him and guide him. We can't risk someone abusive or neglectful raising him. We know where that leads, with him."

"Yeah, plus there's always the chance one of his enemies will find out what happened and come after him and whoever has him," Jack agreed.

Murdoc woke up with a long yawn, sitting up. Startled, he picked up the fox blanket, holding it up for inspection.

"Dawg," he announced, amazed. "Woof!"

"That's a fox," MacGyver corrected, smiling.

"Fahgs?"

"Don't foxes bark though? He wasn't entirely wrong," Riley defended.

"Bawrg?" Murdoc asked. "Fahgs. Bawrg. Bawrg! Woof!"

"Yeah, foxes bark," MacGyver told him. "What are you going to name your new fox friend?"

"Mulder!" Jack suggested, laughing.

"Seriously, Jack?" Bozer scolded.

"Let him come up with something," MacGyver said, frowning lightly. "Dennis, what's his name? Can you think of a name?"

"BAWRG!" Murdoc said, waving the fox head at MacGyver.

"You're gonna name him Bark? Okay, that's cool," MacGyver praised, grinning.

Murdoc held the blanket so the fox's head was on top of his own, then wrapped the blanket around him, concealing his face.

"WOOF!"

"Hey," MacGyver said, playfully, "where did Dennis go? I see a fox named Bark, but there's supposed to be a Dennis."

"Uh oh! I hope Bark didn't eat him up!" Jack teased.

"Oh, no! I better check."

MacGyver made a show of searching Murdoc, making sure not to dislodge the blanket. Murdoc giggled, finally throwing the blanket open and grinning up at MacGyver.

"There's Dennis!" MacGyver exclaimed, chuckling.

"As adorable as this is, we have work to do," Matty told them. "We have to make arrangements for tonight and figure out what we're going to do long term."

"Have you called social services?"

"No, and for the reasons you stated, I'd rather not. We're better off solving this ourselves, before or instead of alerting the civil authorities. Technically, 'Dennis' doesn't even exist."

Cassian came out, yawning and still looking a bit tired.

"Can I have some chicken?" he asked.

"Sure, buddy, help yourself," Jack encouraged.

"Are you okay, Cassian?"

"I guess so."

"If the civil authorities don't know about Murdoc, or Cassian, why don't Bozer and I put them up for the night?" MacGyver suggested. "That'll give us some time to figure out what to do next. Nasha is visiting, too, so we'll have plenty of people to look after the boys, if anything happens."

"All right," Matty agreed. "Since you're volunteering, that will work for tonight. Just be sure to have them back first thing tomorrow."

"Will do," MacGyver agreed.

"All right. Let them finish eating, then you can take them home. They could both use a chance to play and run around."

"You hungry, Dennis?" MacGyver asked, picking him up and setting him down, next to the table.

"Shouldn't you put clothes on him, first?" Riley asked.

"Why? He'd just get them dirty eating," Jack pointed out.

"Yeah, good point," Riley conceded, watching Murdoc grab a chicken tender and begin gnawing on it.

As soon as they were done eating, MacGyver gathered up the children and their things, then took them home. The drive was mostly quiet, except for Murdoc trying to sing along with the radio. MacGyver studied Cassian, noticing he only smiled a bit at Murdoc's faltering attempt at music. Cassian spent most of the ride gazing out the car window, deep in his thoughts. MacGyver gave him his space, until they got to his house. Hearing the front door open, Nasha came to greet MacGyver.

"Hi, Angus," she said warmly, before stopping in surprise at the sight of the children, as Bozer came in behind them.

"Na-sa," Murdoc said, pointing at her, with his other arm wrapped around the back of MacGyver's neck.

"Hello, little one," Nasha greeted, reaching out to tickle his cheek.

Murdoc squirmed, giggling.

"He knows her, too?" Cassian asked, surprised.

"No, he just kept pretty close tabs on us," MacGyver said, sharing a dry look with Bozer.

"Hey, Nasha," Bozer greeted. "Meet Dennis and Cassian. They're gonna be staying the night."

"Yeah, it's a work-related thing," MacGyver agreed. "Cassian, this is my girlfriend, Nasha. She's visiting from Nigeria."

"Hello, Cassian."

"Well, we brought you here, so you could run around and play. What would you like to do?" Bozer asked, expecting the boy to ask about video games.

Cassian just shrugged.

"I don't really feel like playing," he admitted.

MacGyver smiled, sadly at him.

"Well, how about this, then. We'll leave Dennis with Nasha and Bozer and go to a park nearby. There's walking paths there and we can just walk about a bit. Sound good?"

"Yeah, that sounds good," Cassian agreed gratefully.

"That okay with you guys?"

"Sure," Bozer agreed dryly. "As long as you get Dennis to agree. Otherwise, he's gonna scream and cry all the time you're gone, because 'Ang's' left him."

"Uh, yeah. Hey, Dennis," MacGyver said, waiting for Murdoc to look at him. "I'm going to go bye with Cassian, for a bit. Okay?"

"No!"

"Yes. You're gonna stay and play with Nasha and Bozer."

"Na-sa? Bozshr?"

"Yeah, you're gonna stay with them."

"No stay."

"Yeah, you're gonna stay here. Come on. Go to Bozer."

"No," Murdoc said, launching himself at Nasha, who caught him with a laugh.

"Don't take it personally, Bozer," MacGyver advised. "I think he's just being defiant."

"That or he hasn't forgiven me for washing his hair, yet," Bozer said, chuckling.

"NO WASH!" Murdoc said, wrapping his arms around his head.

"No, we're not gonna do that again," Bozer assured him, scolding playfully. "Paranoid little thing."

"Okay, we'll back in about an hour. Bye, Dennis."

"Bye, D-ennis," Cassian echoed.

"Bye! Ang's, bye. Cass'n, bye!" Murdoc said, waving his hand.

"Have fun," Nasha encouraged. "Come on, Dennis. What shall we do? Hm

Public park 4:30 P.M.

MacGyver drove Cassian to the park and picked a path that led through a flower garden, with benches and fountains. They walked silently for a few minutes.

"Cassian? You seem pretty deep in thought. I, uh, know this hard on you."

"My dad was a bad guy, wasn't he?"

"Cassian..."

"I'm young, not dumb. You guys didn't come to the cabin to pay a visit. And, you don't talk about him, like he was a friend."

"No, we didn't," MacGyver agreed, sighing. "We were there to arrest him and take you into protective custody."

"I wasn't really sleeping earlier, just dozing and thinking."

"That's okay."

"I heard Ms. Matty and Ms. Riley talking. They said my dad was...himself, because of how he grew up."

"We don't know much about your dad, actually, especially his childhood."

"Me neither. He never talked about it. But, growing up being studied and giving blood samples all the time or whatever...that's not good, right?"

"No, it's not," MacGyver agreed, hesitantly. "But, it's the only way to get your dad back."

"I love my dad. I don't know what bad thing he did, but he's a good dad."

"No one wants to hurt your dad, Cassian. We just want to fix this situation."

"Can you though?" Cassian complained. "You said no one knows anything about this. What if they try to turn him back and accidentally hurt him?"

"That's a risk," MacGyver agreed.

"Our teacher says science isn't like in the movies. He says discovering stuff takes years and years. So, wouldn't he be mostly grown anyways, by the time they figure anything out?"

"That's very likely. So, you don't want us to try?"

"No. I'd rather him stay a baby, than be a science experiment."

"Fair enough," MacGyver conceded, feeling a bit proud of the boy. "You have to understand, though. He's going to need some medical monitoring. We don't know what exactly has been done to him. This could cause his cells to go haywire or any number of other things."

"Cancer?"

"Maybe. We can't know. He'll need regular physical check-ups, to make sure he's developing normally."

"Will we be allowed to stay together?"

"I don't know. I hope so. It's a hard situation, because of so many things. Finding someone to take him in isn't going to be easy, because it can't be just anyone."

"He likes you," Cassian pointed out, not sure why, but grasping at straws.

"He does, but I'm not married and I travel a lot. I'm not sure that'd be good for him, either."

"We're going to end up in foster care, at least for a while, aren't we? Or, I am, anyway."

"Probably. Don't worry. Matty will probably pick your foster parents and she's an excellent judge of character."

"Yeah."

Without warning, Cassian began crying, all the bottled up stress coming loose and pouring out. MacGyver winced, placing a comforting hand the back of Cassian's neck. Cassian moved forward, burying his face against MacGyver's chest.

"He's dead. My dad is dead," Cassian admitted out loud, sobbing.

"Yeah. I'm sorry," MacGyver agreed, sadly. "But, Dennis is still here and he's still your family. I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you don't end up alone."

"Can you do that?"

"Well, not on my own," MacGyver admitted, giving a small smirk. "But, I bet Riley and Matty can."

"I like Matty."

"Yeah, so you probably should grieve, but...don't give up all hope, just yet.

"I won't," Cassian promised, releasing MacGyver.

MacGyver walked silently beside Cassian, ruminating. He was amazed, and a bit touched, that Cassian had even hinted at MacGyver adopting them. It made him wonder what, exactly, Murdoc had told his son about him. The assassin was turning out to be not only secretive, but downright enigmatic. MacGyver's lips twisted in a wry smile. Murdoc was metaphorically dead and his secrets essentially so. The only thing left of him seemed to be his love for his son and his strange attachment to his enemies. Everything else seemed simplified down to the basics of early childhood.

MacGyver's house. 5:45 P.M.

MacGyver and Cassian got home to find Murdoc sitting at the table, happily scribbling on paper with some colored pencils. Bozer sat next to him, drawing. He looked up at their entrance, with an exasperated smile.

"This is the third picture of Bark I've done for him."

"And whose fault is that?" MacGyver asked, smirking.

"Yours. I'd blame Matty, but she's scarier than both of us put together."

"That's true," MacGyver agreed, laughing.

"Ang's! Look?" Murdoc asked, then took his pencil and drew quick, furious circles all across his paper. "Look, Ang's? I did!"

"Yeah, I see your pretty circles."

"Surkles," Murdoc repeatedly happily. "Surkles. Cass'n! Draw me?"

"Sure, uh, Dennis," Cassian agreed, taking a peek at Nasha, who was sitting across from Bozer, reading.

Cassian and MacGyver both took places at the table, contributing with varying degrees of skill to the pictures and wild pencil marks decorating the papers scattered across the table.

MacGyver's bedroom. 2 A.M.

"Ang's. Aa-aaang's," a soft voice cooed directly into MacGyver's face.

MacGyver woke with a start, hearing vague remnants of Murdoc's taunts to come "play." The smaller version loomed in front of him, smiling gleefully.

"Dennis? Why are you awake?"

"Ang's, train!" Murdoc announced, holding up the toy train Jack had selected as one of his new toys. It was made of heavy plastic, with a small amount of real metal. The exterior was painted a metallic, cobalt blue. "Choo-choo! Choo-choo!"

Murdoc pushed the train around on the bed in the small gap between him and MacGyver. MacGyver gave a shaky laugh, sitting up in bed. He shook his head, as Murdoc played with his train.

"Ang's play?" Murdoc asked, holding the train out to him.

"Mm, thanks anyway," MacGyver said, chuckling. "It's time to sleep, buddy."

"No-ooo. Choo-choo!" Murdoc argued.

"Yep. Let's take the choo-choo back to bed. It's a tired choo-choo."

"Tie-urd?"

"Yeah, sleepy."

"No," Murdoc insisted, cuddling the train against his chest. "Na-sa sleep? NA-SA!"

"Shhhh, yes, she's asleep," MacGyver said, placing his hand gently across Murdoc's mouth. "Don't wake her."

"Wake."

"No, no wake."

MacGyver carried Murdoc back down into the living room, settling on the couch with him. Cassian was sleeping in Bozer's room. Bozer had elected to grab a bag and head over to Leanna's for the night. MacGyver and Nasha had tucked Murdoc into bed on the couch. MacGyver picked Bark up from the floor, wrapping it around Murdoc.

"Okay. You have your train and you have Bark. Go to sleep," MacGyver instructed.

"No."

"Murdoc, please don't do this. Sorry. Dennis, I mean."

"'Doc? Baby 'doc?"

"Yeah, thanks for that, Jack," MacGyver muttered, leaning Murdoc against his shoulder. "Please, lay down, now."

"Choo-choo!"

"We can play with the choo-choo tomorrow."

Murdoc gave a long yawn.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," MacGyver said, smugly.

"No sleep," Murdoc said sulkily, laying down on MacGyver's chest.

"Sure. You keep telling yourself that."

"Tell tha'. Yah," Murdoc agreed, nodding.

"Shhh," MacGyver encouraged, ruffling his hair.

"Ang's nigh'?" Murdoc said, drowsily.

"Yep. I'm sleepy," MacGyver said.

Murdoc didn't answer, so MacGyver looked down at him. Murdoc's face was turned up just enough for MacGyver to see that the boy had fallen back asleep. Smiling, MacGyver closed his eyes, letting himself fall asleep, too.

Phoenix Foundation. 9 A.M. The Next Morning.

MacGyver walked into the Phoenix building with Jack at his side and Murdoc in his arms. Cassian was with Nasha, spending the day out and about, seeing the sights and having some fun. Bozer was down in the labs, helping prepare prosthetics for another team, while Riley did research for them.

"So, you think she's gonna have a plan for Baby 'doc and the kid, yet?" Jack asked, as they went down the hall.

"I hope so. We need to have one in place soon or the decision could be taken from us."

"Ang's. Down. Down!"

"Okay, okay, you can walk, but keep close."

"Baby!" Murdoc announced, trying to run across the lobby, but stumbling, managing, at best, a fast waddle.

"Dennis!" MacGyver called, scolding. "Get back here."

Murdoc ignored him, stopping in front of Agent Tammy Laurents, who was sitting on a bench against one wall. She smiled at Murdoc.

"Hello, little guy. Who're you?"

"Den's," Murdoc answered, then pointed at the bundle in her arms. "'At's baby."

"Yes, he is. Would you like to see the baby?" Tammy offered, as MacGyver and Jack caught up.

"Uh huh."

Tammy shifted the baby, so he was laying across her lap, pushing the blanket further away from his face. MacGyver and Jack just stood close by, shaking their heads and grinning.

"Ahhhh!" Murdoc exclaimed with awed glee, clapping his hands.

"This is Alex."

"Alks?"

"Al-ex."

"Ahl-icks. Awwwww," Murdoc said happily, crowding close. "Mine!"

"No, not yours, I'm afraid," Tammy laughed.

"He likes babies," Jack said, dryly, turning to MacGyver. "Would you have guessed that?"

"Not in a million years. C'mon, Dennis, we gotta go."

"Noooo, baby. Ah-licks!" Murdoc protested.

"Oh, you better go with Mac. Besides, Alex needs to eat, soon."

"Eat? Ah-licks eat?"

"Yup, it's almost time to eat," Tammy repeated patiently.

"Eat," Murdoc told Alex, patting him gently on the chest.

"C'mon, Baby 'doc, we gotta scram," Jack urged.

"Ohhhh," Murdoc sighed, disappointed.

Leaning forward, he placed a messy kiss on the baby's cheek, with the unfettered affection of the very young.

"Bye. Ahl-icks, eat."

Reaching down, Jack picked him up, ignoring his "oh" of protest.

"Bye, Tammy," MacGyver and Jack both told her, smiling wryly.

"Good luck, guys."

"Murdoc once told me he found humans repulsive," MacGyver mused.

"Well, that's a helpful attitude, if you're gonna be an assassin," Jack said, carelessly. "Of course, Murdoc also liked to lie, a LOT."

"Yeah and apparently strangers are okay, if they have a baby."

They entered the conference room, finding Matty and Miriam sitting in chairs, talking. Once MacGyver closed the door, Jack set Murdoc down, giving him the bag of toys they had brought.

"What's up?" Jack asked.

"I've been discussing with Miriam what sort of care Murdoc is going to need, as a potential sociopath."

"I actually agree with you, MacGyver. He really needs to be with someone who knows his history and the potential dangers. Simply placing him with a loving family could go very, very wrong," Miriam said.

"Sure, but who would qualify? I mean, normal kids need a lot of attention. Cassian certainly needs some right now. That's why he's with Nasha."

"Very true. The problem is he's going to need a great deal of unconditional love and anyone who knows who he was might have a hard time providing that."

"Aw, c'mon," Jack scoffed. "Look at the kid. He's not Murdoc. He's a baby!"

"Says the guy who calls him 'Baby 'doc.' Sure, he's cute, adorable even, but that will only protect him until the first time he lies, or steals something, or bites someone. Then, whoever is gonna ask: is that normal baby behavior or his issues peeking through?" MacGyver argued.

"Which is not good for him," Miriam agreed. "He needs someone who can use their knowledge of his past as an asset, to keep it from happening again. He doesn't have to become a full-blown sociopath, not with treatment and careful parenting."

"Do you have someone in mind?"

"I'm afraid I don't, no," Miriam said, then jumped, as her purse hit the floor.

Murdoc ran across the room, the pen he had grabbed from her purse clutched in his hand. MacGyver sighed, giving an exasperated chuckle.

"See, that isn't an unusual thing for a small child to do. They haven't really learned the concept of personal property," Miriam said.

"Yeah," MacGyver said, standing up. "Dennis. Give it back."

Grinning, Murdoc stood across the room, pressing the pen's button over and over. Ignoring MacGyver, he made a clicking noise with his tongue, mimicking the sound the pen made.

"You like that sound?" MacGyver asked, taking his own, nicer pen from his jacket pocket, pushing its button. "This one's better."

"Ooooo," Murdoc warbled, making grabby hands at MacGyver. "Mine!"

MacGyver held the pen away.

"Trade," he countered, firmly. "Give Miriam her pen back and I'll give you this."

"Bagg?"

"Yup. Give the pen back to Miriam," MacGyver agreed, pointing first at the pen, then at Miriam.

"Mmmm, Ang's!" Murdoc declared, holding the pen out to him.

"Nope. If you can get close enough to take the pen, you can get close enough to give it back."

Murdoc gave a soft moan, but slowly edged closer to Miriam, holding the pen out as far as he could. As soon as he was close enough, Miriam took hold of the tip of the pen, waiting for Murdoc to release it, before taking it back.

"Thank you, Dennis."

Murdoc ignored her, swerving around her to get to MacGyver. Grinning, MacGyver leaned down, giving the pen to Murdoc.

"There you go. Enjoy," MacGyver told him, ruffling his hair, as Murdoc began clicking the pen.

"Well done, MacGyver," Miriam praised. "You seem to be a natural."

"Thanks."

"Mac, Miriam and I are going to go through Phoenix personnel files and see if we can find some likely candidates for potential adoptive parents. I need you to take Murdoc to see Dr. Carmen. He wants to do a more thorough physical exam. After that...I don't know, take him to play with Bozer."

"Yes, ma'am," MacGyver said, picking Murdoc up.

"Bye? No bye! Matty!"

"Later, Dennis," Matty promised, with gentle command. "Go with Mac, now."

"Mag?"

"Angus," Jack said, snickering.

"Ang's!" Murdoc repeated cheerfully, patting MacGyver's cheek.

"Yeah, me. Let's go see Dr. Carmen."

"Carmen?"

"Yeah," MacGyver agreed, carrying him out the door.

MacGyver carried Murdoc into Dr. Carmen's lab and set him down on the exam table. Murdoc clutched Bark to him, looking around. Grinning, Carmen came over.

"Good morning, gentlemen."

"Hey, Doc. We brought your patient back for a visit," Jack announced.

"So I see. Good morning, Dennis."

"Morn'."

"Well, let's start with the basics," Carmen said, picking up his stethoscope. "Let's see how the heart and lungs are doing. Okay?"

"'Kay?" Murdoc repeated, not looking particularly interested.

Carmen placed the stethoscope on Murdoc's chest. Murdoc tried to grab at it, but Carmen moved it away to his back. While Carmen was leaning over him, Murdoc noticed the shiny blue and red pens, tucked into Carmen's front pocket. Slowly, Murdoc pulled out the red one, catching Carmen's attention. Murdoc stared boldly up at Carmen, as he took the pen.

"Hey, now. What are you doing with my pen?"

Murdoc answered by clicking the button on the red pen, holding it close to himself.

"You like pens, huh? I need that, though. Can you give it back?" Carmen asked, reaching towards the pen.

"Uh! Mine!" Murdoc protested.

"No, not yours. Let me have it, please."

"How many pens do you need, Baby 'doc?" Jack asked, laughing.

"Yah?" Murdoc answered, leaning forward, attempting to draw on Carmen's white lab coat.

"Oh, hey, no, don't do that," Carmen scolded mildly, laughing and moving further back.

"Dennis," MacGyver said, firmly. "Give that back."

"Uh uh!" Murdoc said, twisting away from Carmen.

Carmen just shook his head, bending over and taking the pen. Murdoc made a string of angry noises, then flopped hard back onto the exam table, curling up, crying, and knocking Bark to the floor. The adults just sighed.

"Well, as long as he's mad, we may as well get this next bit over," Carmen said. "I need to draw some blood."

"I better help with this," Jack said, picking up Murdoc, who squirmed and screamed.

"Stop that, Dennis," MacGyver said firmly.

"Noo-ohhhhhh," Murdoc wailed.

Carmen held out two band-aids, one covered with dinosaurs and the other with trucks.

"Which one do you want?"

Sniffling, Murdoc stopped crying, quickly forgetting his anger.

"No trugg," Murdoc said, pushing that one away, then tapping the dinosaur bandaid.

"All right," Carmen agreed.

Carmen gently, but firmly, grabbed Murdoc's arm, using a bit of cotton to apply a disinfectant.

"Just a pinch, Dennis," Carmen said soothingly, then inserted the needle into Murdoc's vein.

Murdoc whimpered, keeping his eyes on the needle, but didn't fight. He watched, avidly, as Carmen filled two small vials with blood. Smiling soothingly, Carmen finished and applied the dinosaur band-aid.

"You're a brave boy. That didn't bother you at all."

"Mine," Murdoc complained, pointing at the pens in Carmen's pocket.

"Can you ask?" Carmen suggested.

"Asg?"

"Mm hm. Instead of grabbing, say please."

"Asg? Pleese?"

"Good boy," Carmen said, handing him the red pen.

"Jagg," Murdoc cooed, then held the pen up to Jack's ear, pressing the button a couple of times.

"Yep, I hear it, Baby 'doc," Jack assured him. "At this rate, you're gonna end up with a whole bouquet of those things."

"Bohg? Eh?"

"Never mind," Jack said, chuckling. "A lot!"

"Lot," Murdoc agreed, cheerfully, nodding.

"Well, that's all I need for now," Carmen told them, chuckling. "Good-bye, Dennis."

"Bye," Murdoc said, waving a bit, still distracted by his new pen.

"See you later, Dr. Carmen," MacGyver said, chuckling. "Come on, you two. Let's go visit Bozer."

"Bozshr!" Murdoc called out, as if expecting him to appear.

"No, we're going to him," Jack corrected, standing up.

"And, you are going to behave in his lab," MacGyver told Murdoc, picking up Bark, then him.

"'Have?"

"Be good."

"M'good," Murdoc agreed, happily.

"Not often enough," Jack said, dryly. "We'll get you there, though, Baby 'doc."

They entered Bozer's lab area and found him carefully painting a prosthetic mask. He looked up briefly, as they entered, then finished adding color to the cheekbones. Bozer grinned.

"Hey there. What's up?"

"Matty sent us down to visit," MacGyver explained, setting Murdoc and Bark down.

"Bozshr!"

"Hi, Dennis," Bozer said, grinning. "I wonder how he'll react to Sparky."

"Spargy?"

"That would be me. Hello, Dennis," the robot said, drawing Murdoc's attention.

Murdoc's eyes widened and he took a couple of slow steps towards Sparky, clutching Bark close.

"How are you today?" Sparky asked, making Murdoc jump nervously, watching the light display that served as Sparky's mouth.

"Do you like that?" Bozer asked.

"'At?" Murdoc repeated, pointing at Sparky.

"He's a robot. He helps me down here."

"Robot?"

Murdoc took a few more, careful steps towards Sparky, stopping a few feet away. Murdoc put Bark's face in front of his own and made a low, growling noise. Woofing sharply, he waved Bark at Sparky.

"Oh, dear. I don't believe the young man is pleased."

"That is a very hostile bark," Jack drawled.

"It's okay, Dennis," MacGyver said soothingly.

Ignoring him, Murdoc walked slowly in a circle around Sparky, never facing away. He kept Bark in front of him, continuing to make growling noises.

"I promise I'm harmless," Sparky said, following Murdoc's progress as best he could.

"Dennis, he's a machine," Bozer said, laughing a bit.

Murdoc looked questioningly at Bozer, then sneaked forward and poked Sparky in the leg.

"Is he attacking? I'm not actually capable of pain."

"I think curiosity is winning out over wariness," MacGyver mused, grinning.

"Would you like me to play you some music, Dennis?" Sparky asked, once the boy was in front of him again.

"Mus'k?"

"Certainly," Sparky agreed, finding some children's music on the internet and filtering it through his mouthpiece.

Murdoc gave an awed sigh, as "Pop Goes the Weasel" began playing. Reaching out, he began poking and prodding at various parts of Sparky, then grabbed and pulled on one of his cables.

"No, no, Dennis!" Bozer said, panicking a bit. "Don't hurt him."

"I am unable..."

"Will you shut it?" Bozer scolded. "He's a baby. I'm putting it in a way he'll understand!"

Mimicking Bozer, Murdoc waved a stern finger at Sparky, scolding incoherently, before demanding, "Mus'k!"

"Yes, Dennis, of course," Sparky assured him, beginning to play The Farmer in the Dell.

Clapping, Murdoc began singing falteringly along, smiling brightly. After a moment, he tried to climb up onto Sparky's lap. Laughing, Jack gave him a boost.

"Fat lot of good you'll be, during the robot apocalypse," Jack teased.

"Spargy. Train! Choo-choo!"

"I'm not sure I understood that," Sparky admitted, continuing to play The Farmer in the Dell.

"I think he wants a song about trains," MacGyver explains. "He likes the toy train you got for him, Jack."

"Well, yeah. What kid wouldn't?"

"Oh, certainly," Sparky agreed, playing "Choo-choo Train" for Murdoc.

Murdoc bounced up and down, clapping and trying to sing the unfamiliar song. Sparky continued looking around the lab, patiently waiting for instructions to help Bozer with his work. After a few minutes, Murdoc stood up and grabbed the sides of Sparky's face, turning the faceplate towards himself. He stared hard into Sparky's eyes.

"Ah, yes?" Sparky asked.

"Eyes?" Murdoc asked, touching the indents in the robot's face.

"Yes, those are my eyes, what passes for them, at least."

"Nose?"

"I don't really need a nose."

"Nose," Murdoc said insistently, tapping his own nose.

"Yes, that's your nose," Sparky agreed. "Would you like a song about the human form?"

"Hum'? No?"

"I see. How about dogs? Children usually enjoy that, don't they?" Sparky asked, beginning to play "How Much is that Doggy in the Window?."

"WOOF!"

"Sorry for interrupting your work, Bozer," MacGyver said, sheepishly.

"Nah, it's okay. I was about ready for a break and this is entertaining."

MacGyver heard his ringtone, indicating a text message. He read it and grimaced, going over to Murdoc and picking him up.

"That's Matty. She wants Dennis in the conference room."

"You think she found a home for him?"

"That'd be pretty fast. But, we'll find out."

"Let's go."

"Good luck, guys. Bye, Dennis," Bozer said, waving a bit at the boy.

"Bye. Bozshr! By-yyye!"

The cold atmosphere in the conference room was proof enough that Matty had not called them to announce Dennis' new home. A tall, hunched man stood in the center of the conference room, his murky brown eyes flat and malicious. He managed to stare haughtily at Matty, as she glared up at him. Instinctively, MacGyver's arms tightened around Murdoc.

"MacGyver, Jack, this is Senator Terrance Darven. He's here to discuss what happens to Dennis next."

"No, I'm not," Darven disagreed, coldly. "I'm here to take Murdoc into custody."

"He's already in custody," Jack pointed out. "What do you want with him?"

"Arrangements are nearly finished for placing him in a medical facility..."

"A research facility," Matty clarified, not bothering to hide her disgust.

"The boy is a criminal..."

"Dennis is a toddler and definitely not a threat to national security."

"Murdoc has already committed enough crimes to get thrown into a deep, dark hole for the rest of his life," Darven countered. "We're willing to spare him that. I promise he'll be kept as clean and comfortable as possible. I'm sure our best scientists will be humane in their testing."

"I'm supposed to trust scientists who are willing to conduct experiments on an eighteen-month-old baby? I don't think so."

"And, you think his size matters? Murdoc is brilliant and devious. Why are you buying into this baby routine so easily? He could be putting on an act to make you drop your guard."

"Oh, please," Riley huffed. "Anyone who spends five minutes with him is going to know that's a crock!"

"Senator, as a professional psychiatrist, I assure you, a young child's brain is not capable of that level of deceit. His brain, as an organ, isn't developed enough, yet, for that level of complexity!" Miriam pleaded.

"Without tests, what makes you think he has the brain of a young child?"

"Every other part of him matches that of a child," MacGyver reasoned. "Why would his brain be an exception?"

"Well, that's something for the scientists to figure out, isn't it?"

"Ang's. Matty. Matty!"

"You want Matty? Okay, go see her," MacGyver allowed, putting him down a couple of feet away from the senator.

He made a mistake.

As Murdoc walked towards Matty, still clutching Bark, Darven reached down, managing to snag Murdoc's arm.

"Drop the act, Murdoc!" Darven shouted. "Show them who you truly are!"

"Hey!" Riley said sharply. "Let go of him."

MacGyver waited for Murdoc to start screaming, possibly even to hit or bite. Instead, the boy went white as a sheet, staring up at the loud man in horror. Tears silently crept onto his cheeks. Murdoc's entire body, from his lips to his knees, began trembling. Darven ignored Riley, glaring down at Murdoc.

"I'm not fooled by you, you little monster! I can't believe you people are defending him, just because he's become some freak of nature," Darven yelled, staring into Murdoc's eyes, unmoved.

Jack strode forward and gave Darven a hard shove, breaking his grip on Murdoc.

"You can't do that to me! I'm a senator," Darven said, stunned.

"I just did," Jack almost shouted, his face set in hard lines. "You touch that kid again and I'll do worse."

Murdoc used the distraction to escape. He didn't bother trying to run, but dropped into a crawl, dragging Bark along with him. He scurried behind one of the leather chairs, but the gap was too narrow for him to fit underneath. Breathing anxiously, he settled for hiding at the back, which was close to the windows, facing away from everyone else. Murdoc huddled there, shaking.

"Mac, see if he'll go to you," Matty instructed, forcing her voice to stay calm. "Jack, you're probably frightening him, too. Keep your voice down."

"You--you can not treat a baby like that," Miriam said, horrified. "You could traumatize him!"

"Spare me the hippy speeches about peace and love. I'm growing tired of your defiance," Darven warned them.

MacGyver rolled his eyes, walking around to face Murdoc. Kneeling down, MacGyver held his hands out.

"Hey, it's okay, Dennis. Come here."

Murdoc looked up at him. His shoulders shook with his sobs, but he had one of Bark's edges shoved in his mouth. The only sound escaping was a soft whimpering. He pressed back into the chair, away from MacGyver, shaking his head.

"It's safe. He's not gonna touch you again," MacGyver promised, starting to move slowly forward.

He stopped, when Murdoc flinched, his whimpering becoming louder.

"Let me try, Mac. Right now, man equals scary. Maybe," Riley guessed, setting down her keyboard.

Once MacGyver had moved aside, she took his place, kneeling in front of Murdoc.

"Hey, kiddo. Can you come to me?" Riley asked, softly, holding out one hand. "We'll keep you safe, y'know."

Murdoc took Bark out of his mouth, looking from the fox to Riley and back again, before looking up at her, his eyes still wide with fear. He gave a huge, loud sob, then crawled over to her. Gently, Riley rubbed his back and petted his hair, letting him calm down for a moment. Everyone was silent, as she picked him up. Murdoc tucked Bark between them and put his arms around her neck, hiding his face.

"Just to be clear, this is the first time that I've ever seen him afraid," MacGyver said, disgusted, as Riley settled back into her chair, cradling Murdoc in her lap. "Congratulations. You managed to terrify him. Are you convinced now?"

"Not entirely, but I see there's no convincing you people."

"How did you even find out about Dennis?"

"I have my sources. Some people find it wise to cultivate friends in public office. Now, I want that boy handed over to me."

"I refuse. Dr. Carmen is examining both the cocoon Dennis was in and the meteor that struck. That should keep any reputable scientist busy for a good, long time."

"Do you not understand the potential here? A man, almost forty years old, is now a child again!" Darven nearly shouted in his zeal. "Mankind has been searching for a fountain of youth for centuries and we may be on the brink of discovering it."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, that's a pipe dream and Dennis has rights."

"Officially, he doesn't even exist."

"Yeah, he does," Riley said, smugly. "Look him up. He's got his own social security number and everything."

"Oh, I'm sure you did a thorough job of creating an identity for him and I'll make sure you do a thorough job of erasing him, too," Darven promised.

"You don't have that kind of clout," Matty told her, smiling coldly. "I mean, you are only a junior senator and we don't answer to your particular committee."

"Either way, the boy has to go into Federal custody. What if he gets ill? What if he starts to remember or starts killing? You can't just hand him over to some clueless civilian and hope for the best!"

"We're working on finding someone within the Phoenix to adopt him and Cassian," Matty told him.

"Really? And, how is that going?" Darven asked, sarcastically.

"We're just getting started," Matty told him. "We'll find someone."

MacGyver was barely listening to the argument, his attention on Murdoc. He thought rapidly, memories and ideas flitting through his mind in complex patterns. He remembered Murdoc's determination to find his missing son and Murdoc insisting that sons belonged with their fathers. He remembered Murdoc smiling with creepy eagerness, when MacGyver entered the interview room, before noticing Matty, and Murdoc mock-flirting with him, when Henry turned him over. MacGyver smiled sadly, remembering Cassian being afraid that Murdoc was dying and Murdoc spending his last moments as himself comforting his son.

MacGyver remembered Murdoc, now small, splashing Bozer with water and Murdoc sobbing, because MacGyver left the room, unannounced. He remembered Murdoc playing with his train and asking for a "choo choo" song and Cassian forcing himself to call Murdoc Dennis, instead of dad. Most of all, MacGyver remembered Cassian admitting he was afraid his dad would end up a science experiment.

He remembered Cassian pointing out that Murdoc liked MacGyver.

"I'm going to adopt them, Dennis and Cassian," MacGyver announced, his mouth set in an angry, determined line.

Everyone, including Darven, forced themselves not to gape.

"I don't see a wedding ring on your finger, Agent MacGyver. How are you going to take care of children and do your job?"

MacGyver gave him a cold smile, as his brilliant mind searched quickly for an answer. Fortunately, he worked well under pressure.

"Well, if we put him up for adoption or in foster care, Matty would have to choose a guardian that could be trusted, someone who knows his past. A nanny wouldn't necessarily need to know that. Or, maybe the Phoenix could start a daycare."

"That is not funny," Darven said sternly.

"Well, you're not going to find this funny either," James MacGyver assured him, from the doorway. "This entire interview, including your assault on Dennis, has been recorded. I had Riley turn the cameras on, as soon as your little visit was announced."

Security cameras recorded everything at the Phoenix, all the time, but James felt the senator didn't need to know that. Let him feel special.

"Dad?" MacGyver asked, a bit puzzled.

"What? I may be a terrible dad, but I still am one. Do you think I would put up with that nonsense?"

"No, no, of course not," MacGyver conceded.

"Are you serious about adopting Dennis and Cassian?"

"Yes, I am," MacGyver said, firmly.

"Well, that's too bad, because other arrangements have been made," Darven reminded him.

"I'm owed enough favors to get around you and your group," James assured him, coming into the room. "And, if not, I'll air the video of you hurting that boy on every major website and television network. Are we clear?"

"Perfectly," Darven agreed, paling.

"We'll let you get back to Washington, then."

Darven gave a curt nod, then stormed out the door, glaring at Jack, who held it open for him. Once he was gone, James turned back to MacGyver, smiling ruefully.

"Dad, um. Thank you."

"You're welcome. No strings, but, um, if you're really grateful, you could give me a chance to be a grandfather to them."

MacGyver hesitated, a wary look on his face, as he glanced over at Murdoc.

"No training!" James assured him, hastily. "No nudging them in any direction, just...family time. I promise."

"Really?" MacGyver asked, bewildered. "That's...a change."

"A long overdue one," James agreed, with a short laugh. "Well, it's been humbling to discover that a sociopathic hitman was a better dad, than I was."

MacGyver smiled, his gaze softening for the first time in his father's presence.

"It doesn't have to stay that way."

"That's what I'm hoping," James admitted.

"Well, then. I guess I better start looking for a nanny," Matty said, dryly.

"Nah-ny?" Murdoc asked, ready to face the room again.

"Yeah, you need a keeper, kiddo," Riley teased. "A dad, two aunts, and two uncles are not gonna be enough to keep up with you."

"Keep me?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna keep you," MacGyver said, walking over to him and holding out his hands. "Come see me now?"

"Ang's," Murdoc agreed, making grabby hands at him.

MacGyver picked Murdoc up, smiling, feeling weirdly at peace with his impulsive decision.

"How about it, Dennis? Can I be your daddy?"

"Daddy? Ang's?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna be yours and Cassian's daddy."

"Ang's. Daddy. Daaad-dyyyyyy. Ang's!"

James came and stood close, amused.

"Hello, Dennis."

Murdoc nestled closer to MacGyver, but his face remained smooth and untroubled. He pointed at James, looking at MacGyver with wide eyes, under raised eyebrows.

"Say hi. That's my dad, your grandpa."

"Gan? Pa? Pa, pa, pa?" Murdoc asked, the words trailing off to mere popping noises.

"Graand. Pa," James pronounced slowly, then repeated. "Hello."

"'Lo? Gran. Pah-pop."

"Close enough," James conceded, chuckling.

"I guess he never had one of those," MacGyver speculated, sadly.

"We definitely need to find out more about his personal life, just in case anyone else comes looking for him," James said, grimly.

"No worries," Riley assured him. "When I hacked his identity into the systems, I included a court order terminating the rights of his biological family. I cited abuse, because of stuff Murdoc hinted at. Aunt Riley's got ya covered, Dennis."

"Just remember I'm the cool uncle," Jack announced.

"Oh, you wish! I'm the cool one," Riley argued, smirking.

"Why don't you ask Dennis his opinion?" Matty asked, amused.

"Hey, Dennis, who's cooler? Riley or Jack?" Jack asked.

"Do not refer to yourself in the third person," MacGyver scolded.

"Hey, hush, will ya? I'm asking a question here," Jack protested. "Who's the cool one, Dennis?"

"Kewl?"

"Yeah, who's cool, me or Jack?" Riley asked, leaning forward a bit and grinning.

"Mmmmmm, DAD-dy!" Dennis announced, provoking a chorus of laughs and groans.

"You both should have been expecting that," Matty told them, smugly.

They couldn't argue.

Growing up MacGyver

December 15th, 2018. 11 A.M.

Dennis MacGyver sat on his pah-pop's lap, watching as his daddy fastened a tie around Cassian's neck. All four wore matching outfits, scratchy ones. It was a big day. He was getting a mommy today. Dennis was happy, but he still wanted to take his outfit off. But, he'd already been stopped four times from removing different pieces of it. There were a lot of pieces! Four was a big number, but he'd counted them on his fingers, one finger for each piece of clothing and he hadn't tried them all!

"There you go," MacGyver told Cassian, ruffling his hair. "You ready, Dennis?"

"I think he has everything we need to keep him distracted," James said, dryly, standing and lifting his grandson.

"Don't worry so much."

"This boy is chaos personified, adorable or not."

"Look, if you try and keep him completely quiet and still, you're just going to encourage outbursts. He thrives on attention, negative and positive. He'd end up screaming and crying and you'd have to take him out of the room. You both would miss the ceremony and I don't want that."

"We'd only be gone long enough to calm him down, not long enough to miss the entire ceremony."

"He'd just act out again, even worse, once you came back. I'm not that interested in my wedding being picture perfect. I want it to be a joyous, family moment. If that means letting my two-year-old be a bit chaotic, Nasha and I can live with that. I just need him quiet enough to let the ceremony continue."

"At least you had the sense to not feed him anything sugary for breakfast."

MacGyver laughed, lifting Dennis away from James and into his own arms.

"Daddy get married," Dennis announced.

"Yup and what does that mean?" MacGyver asked him.

"Means, I..." Dennis placed one finger in front of his lips and kept talking, but his volume dropped below hearing levels.

"I don't see that happening," Cassian interrupted, laughing, then smothering it, when Dennis pouted at him.

"Yeah, you gotta keep quiet during the wedding, but what else?"

"Na-sa be mommy!"

"Yup, Nasha's going to be yours and Cassian's mommy. Ready?"

"Go, go, go," Dennis chanted, bouncing.

"Okay," MacGyver agreed, kissing his forehead, then carrying him into the church sanctuary.

Dennis looked around at all the people and hummed anxiously. James stepped forward, taking him from MacGyver.

"Hey, now. Calm down. There's no strangers. Your daddy, Nasha, and I know every person in here."

"No, Pah-pop. Nah' know," Dennis said, tapping his chest.

"But, I do. It's okay. Let's go sit down."

"Casseen, too?"

"No, Cassian has to get ready to be the ring bearer."

James carried him to the front pew, on the groom's side. Dennis sat close to the wall, as far away from the crowd as possible. James was a bit amazed and touched at the number of people attending. Most of the people on the groom's side worked for the Phoenix, but Charlie was there, too, along with Jack's Delta team. Some MIT graduates who had known MacGyver in college were there, too. On second thought, James considered, his grandson's anxiety, though unnecessary, was fairly reasonable. Fortunately, the small basket they had prepared for him, holding Bark, some Goldfish crackers, and a few, quiet toys, had Dennis' attention.

Or, they did, until the wedding march started.

"AH!" Dennis gasped, happily. "Sing. Pah-pop. Sing!"

"Shhhh, Dennis, no," James whispered, ignoring the chuckles from nearby guests and his son's wince. "We're not singing."

"Wanna sing!"

James started to argue, reaching to place a finger against Dennis' mouth, but a soft voice began singing behind him.

"Here comes the bride, all dressed in white," Jill sang, Dennis trying to join in. "Sweetly, serenely..."

"Jill," James interrupted, equally annoyed and amused.

"Well, it is a pretty song," she whispered, her voice low enough to not carry.

Trying not to laugh, MacGyver turned to them, smiling, but stern.

"Dennis. Shhhhh," MacGyver instructed, holding a finger in front of his lips.

Dennis' eyes widened and he slowly stuck a few crackers in his mouth, stifling his own giggle. James breathed a sigh of relief, hoping the rest of the ceremony went smoothly. Dennis stayed still just long enough for the flower girl, Nasha's six-year-old cousin Abena, to get his attention.

Seeing the flower petals, he hopped up, going behind her. Dennis began trailing behind her, picking up handfuls of flowers, tossing a few handfuls back into her basket, a few into the air, and keeping some for himself. When they got to the front, Abena distracted Dennis away from the wedding party by handing her basket to James. Dennis followed and spent a happy, few minutes playing quietly with the petals.

The flowers lost their hold on him, when Nasha took her place at MacGyver's side. Seeing Nasha, Dennis hopped down, running over to her and throwing his arms around her waist. Smiling down at him, she silently stroked his hair, then nodded at Pastor Andrew to continue.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today in the presence of God..."

Dennis ignored the exchange, running his fingers over the lace on Nasha's sleeves, before discovering the dress's train. Making a small sound of delight, Dennis moved away from her, picking an edge of the train up. Noticing how long the train was, Dennis walked a bit away, then pulled the train up over his head. He turned around, so the lace was draped over his head like a cloak.

"...any person knows why..." Pastor Andrew said, then stopped, chuckling helplessly. "Ah..."

Matty stepped forward, holding her hand out to Dennis. Putting his finger over his lips, he dramatically tiptoed over to her. Wrapping her arms around Dennis' shoulders, Matty turned him to face Pastor Andrew.

"...forever hold their peace."

Dennis pulled away from Matty, walking back over to James as the ceremony continued. He grabbed Bark and his crackers, then went back to the aisle, sitting in the middle, facing Paster Andrew. Munching on his crackers, he watched, occasionally lifting Bark up, so he could look, too.

"Do you, Angus MacGyver, take Nasha Lawal to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?"

"Yeah, Na-sa gonna b'mommy," Dennis told Pastor Andrew.

"I know, but your daddy has to answer," Pastor Andrew replied, gravely.

"Oh!" Dennis exclaimed, putting his finger back in front of his lips.

"I do," MacGyver said, trying not to laugh.

"Do you, Nasha Lawal, take Angus MacGyver to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?"

Everyone in the wedding party, except Nasha, turned to Dennis, placing their fingers over their lips. Dennis stared at them with wide eyes, shoving crackers into his mouth, then spreading in hands in a gesture of innocence. Nasha smirked, shaking with laughter.

"I do," she promised, a bit breathlessly, as laughter tightened her abdomen.

"Do you have the rings?" Pastor Andrew asked, mildly.

"Yes, sir," Cassian answered, stepping forward with the rings in their pillow.

"Thank you, Cassian, you may step back," Pastor Andrew instructed kindly, after taking the rings from the pillow. He handed Nasha's ring to MacGyver.

"You may give this ring and your vow."

MacGyver gently clasped Nasha's hand, holding the ring near her finger.

"With this ring, I wed you, joining myself and my family to you and to yours. I make us one, not just a family of blood, but of choice," MacGyver promised solemnly, gently sliding the ring onto her finger.

Pastor Andrew handed MacGyver's ring to Nasha.

"You may give this ring and your vow."

"With this ring, I wed you, creating a bond of love that transcends blood, uniting all my family, with all of yours, promising to love, all that you love."

Silently, Dennis walked up and stood next to MacGyver, grabbing his and Nasha's joined hands, so he could look at the rings.

"By the power invested in me by the State of California, I now pronounce you husband and wife! I present to those assembled here: Angus and Nasha MacGyver."

"Mommy and Daddy!"

"Yes, that, too," Pastor Andrew agreed, laughing openly.

"Oh, come here, precious boy," Nasha said, lifting Dennis and kissing him on the cheek, then listening to him giggle.

MacGyver turned to Cassian, putting an arm around his shoulders and hugging him close.

Cassian turned and gave him a strong hug in return.

"Well, Dad, that didn't go too badly," Cassian said encouragingly, grinning.

"Nah, I'm actually pretty proud of him," MacGyver admitted, wryly. "And, of you, too."

"Congratulations to all of you," Pastor Andrew said. "Now, we do have one last order of business."

"Here. I'll take the little chaos monster," Jack offered, laughing.

"All right. Go to Uncle Jack, for a bit, darling," Nasha instructed.

"Go bye?" Dennis asked, confused, as he settled into Jack's arms.

"They have to sign some papers," Bozer told him. "Did you have fun?"

"Yah. Mommy pretty."

"Yep. She's very pretty. You're looking pretty sharp yourself."

"Casseen sharp."

"Yes, he is very handsome," another voice agreed.

Dennis turned, frowning at the couple approaching.

"Oh, now, don't frown, love," the woman urged, smiling tenderly. "Do you remember us? You met us yesterday."

"No, no," Dennis whispered, huddling against Jack.

"Sorry, Ebele," Jack said, sighing. "It takes him a bit, to warm up to new people."

"Nah' know," Dennis whined, softly.

"Well, you need to get to know them," Matty told him. "They're your family, now."

"Fam'ly?"

"Of course," Uzochi, the man with Ebele, told him, smiling warmly. "We're Nasha's mommy and daddy."

That got Dennis' attention and he sat up, staring at them.

"Mommy's mommy?" he asked, astonished.

"Yeah, that's how it works," Jack told him. "Everyone has a mommy and daddy."

"No?" Dennis said, confused and disbelieving.

"Yeah. Uzochi is Mom's daddy, which makes him our grandpa," Cassian assured him.

"No, 'at's pah-pop," Dennis argued, pointing at James.

"Yeah, that's Dad's daddy. Uzochi is Mom's daddy, so he's our grandpa, too."

"Two pah-pops?!" Dennis asked, incredulous, holding up two fingers.

"Yeah, we have two pah-pops, now," Cassian repeated, laughing.

"You might call one of them something else, though," Riley advised.

"No. 'Em's pah-pops," Dennis said firmly, then pointed at Ebele. "Mommy mommy? Mom-mom?"

"How about nne nna," Ebele suggested. "That's a word for grandma where we are from."

"Nnneh nnnaw?" Dennis tried slowly. "Nnnnaw. Nnneh. Nnnaw?"

"Very good. Nne nna," Ebele agreed, smiling.

"Mommy. Nneh nnaw. Two pah-pops," Dennis recited softly, counting them on his fingers.

"Yeah. We're getting a big family," Cassian said, happily. "And guess what else?"

"Else?"

"When Mom and Dad are back, we're going to have cake!" Cassian said, just to see Dennis' reaction.

"CAKE!" Dennis shouted, clapping and grinning widely.

"Whoa, not in my ear, Baby 'doc," Jack complained.

"Baby 'doc," Ebele repeated, laughing a bit. "That's a cute nickname. How did you get started calling him that?"

Jack gave a too bright smile, shrugging.

"Ah, y'know, just a Bugs Bunny reference," he lied.

Ebele nodded, though she couldn't help wondering at the faint looks of unease she noticed on the wedding party's faces.

"Nne nna," Dennis said insistently, bouncing in Jack's arms. "CAKE!"

"Yes, darling, we're going to have cake very soon," she promised.

"Yeah, in fact, here come Mac and Nasha now," Bozer said, pointing the side door they had gone through.

"Mommy! Daddy! Cake!" Dennis called out to them.

"Uh, yeah, we're going to eat lunch first," MacGyver told him firmly.

"Whyy?" Dennis whined.

"Because I want to get real food in you, before you get a bunch of sugar in your system."

"Crackers!"

"You had just enough of those to keep you quiet during the wedding," MacGyver explained, taking Dennis from Jack.

"I's quiet?" Dennis asked.

"Yeah, you actually did better than I expected," MacGyver agreed, laughing. "C'mon. The sooner we eat, the sooner we get cake."

"Caaake!"

February 29th, 2019. 1:30 P.M.

Dennis scampered around on the deck, playing with his trains, Bark, and some sidewalk chalk. The firepit was tightly covered, to his disappointment. The door leading into the house was open and he could hear his mommy singing, as she prepared lesson plans in the living room. Dennis sat on the deck, trying to use his chalk to draw a picture of Bark.

A rustling of leaves around the gate caught his attention. Looking up, Dennis saw someone familiar--a man of medium height, with snow-white hair, wearing sunglasses. The man's hard, lined face was faintly softened by his slight smile.

"Nick!" Dennis cried out, joyfully, picking Bark up. "'s Nick!"

Dennis ran a few steps towards Nick Helman, then staggered to a stop, his eyes wide. He felt a weird mix of joy and fear that his child's mind couldn't understand. He danced up and down in one spot, torn by conflicting impulses, clutching Bark to his chest. He wanted to go to Nick, but something deep in him cautioned against it. Nick seemed to understand, his smile tightening. He walked over to one of the benches and sat down.

"It's all right, Dennis. Come here to me, my boy," Nick said, almost gently.

Dennis hesitated a moment more, then walked over to Nick, who picked him up, setting Dennis in his lap.

"You seem to be doing well enough. Your hair is getting a bit long."

"Yah," Dennis agreed, running his hand over his head, mussing up the long, black strands.

"Oh, now, don't do that," Nick scolded, using his fingers to bring some order to Dennis' hair.

"Do tha'," Dennis disagreed, giggling.

"Always so contrary," Nick teased. "Who's looking after you?"

"Look me? Mommy."

"Oh, you do have a mommy, then. Good."

"Yeah and a daddy, too. Now, let him go," MacGyver demanded, coming onto the patio.

Nick stared up at him, his eyes shining with disbelief.

"Angus MacGyver. Now, I admit, I had dismissed the rumors about him being in your care, though the address seemed to confirm it."

"I adopted Dennis and Cassian," MacGyver told him coldly. "They're my sons, now."

"What on earth compelled you to adopt your would-be assassin?" Nick asked, shrewdly.

MacGyver frowned, swallowing past the pained tightness of his throat.

"They needed someone. I chose to be that someone."

"Daddy! 's Nick," Dennis said, patting Nick's chest and grinning.

"Yeah, I know, buddy," MacGyver assured him. "Why are you here? Did you really come for revenge on a two-year-old child?"

"Actually, no. I didn't. I came to learn the truth of what happened to Dennis."

"How can you be sure that he is Murdoc?"

Nick smirked, shaking his head slowly.

"I've seen photos of Murdoc as a young child. The files detailing his...transformation contained photos of that same child. Of course, the recent photos might have been doctored, but I see they weren't."

"Murd? Doc?" Dennis sounded out, confused and unhappy. "M'Baby 'doc."

"Baby doc?" Nick asked, puzzled.

"Jack calls him that. Why does the truth matter to you?"

"You forget we were close once," Nick said gravely.

"Were you? You were his mentor, sure, but you cut ties with him. Why do that?"

"Selfishness, if you must know. Yes, I abandoned him and I regret it. I told myself he didn't need me anymore and, perhaps, in terms of our work, he didn't. Still, there was the personal aspect. I wanted to hide my past from my wife and I couldn't do that and keep Murdoc close. It's probably my gravest mistake."

"So, you came to reclaim him," MacGyver guessed grimly.

"No," Nick laughed, shaking his head. "That thought never even occurred to me. I came here only to see that he was in a good home, being well cared for. You're an interesting young man, you know. Many would still be treating him as an enemy or a threat."

"He's a child."

"Yes, and well done recognizing that fact. No, I'm here only for a little visit."

"Nick. See Bark?" Dennis asked, holding up the toy fox.

"I do see him. Does he have a good bark?"

"WOOF!" Dennis demonstrated, holding Bark's face in front of his own.

"Ah. Very good, indeed."

"So, you've seen him. He's fine. I'm really not comfortable with this 'visit.'"

"No, I don't suppose you are," Nick agreed, amused. "I promise I mean him no harm."

"Even if I believe you, which I don't entirely, that's not actually the point."

"You don't want me to influence him."

"Yeah, exactly," MacGyver said with sharp honesty.

"Daddy?" Dennis asked, sensing something was wrong.

MacGyver forced himself to relax, smiling at his boy.

"It's okay, Dennis. Are you happy to see Nick?"

"Yah! Nick see me!" Dennis agreed, bouncing a bit.

"Yes, and your daddy is right. I'm not the correct influence for this new life of yours," Nick conceded, remembering his wife and how eager he had been for the changes his life with her had promised.

"Mine?"

"Yours. So, good-bye, my little man. Mind your daddy," Nick admonished gently.

"You're just going to leave?" MacGyver asked skeptically.

"I have what I came for. My former student is in safe hands. Believe it or not, that is all I wanted. Good-bye, Mr. MacGyver. I seriously doubt that we will meet again."

MacGyver gave a silent nod of agreement, if not exactly respect. Nick set Dennis down on the ground.

"Nick? Bye?" Dennis asked, sadly.

"Yes, this is good-bye," Nick agreed, a small hint of sadness in his smile.

MacGyver walked over and picked Dennis up, cradling him close. With a small nod, Nick turned and walked away.

March 28th. 11:30 A.M

MacGyver paused outside the barbershop with Jack at his side and Dennis in his arms.

"Okay, one more time," MacGyver said cheerfully. "Who are we going to see in here?"

"Marty," Dennis said dutifully.

"And we know Marty right? We've met him a few times before."

"Yah. Marty is friend," Denis agreed, nodding.

"What's Marty going to do for us today?"

"Marty...Mar...um...give haircut."

"Right. I've let you get way too shaggy," MacGyver admitted, wryly.

Truthfully, he'd been dreading Dennis' reaction to someone using scissors on his head.

"I'm mess?" Dennis asked, running his fingers over his hair, so it stood up in clumps.

"Yep, you're a mess," MacGyver teased, chuckling.

"Yeah, now you look like a brunette Albert Einstein," Jack said, laughing.

"Bert? I' not Bert," Dennis argued, indignantly.

"Never mind. I'll tell you about Einstein later. What does Marty need you to do?"

"Sit. Not move. Not bark," Dennis said with a bit of reluctance, showing Bark, before tucking him back against his chest. "Um..."

"Do what he asks?" Mac prompted.

"Yeah," Dennis said decisively.

Jack gave MacGyver a wry smile, shrugging.

"Okay. Your daddy and I will be close by, Baby 'doc," Jack assured him.

MacGyver opened the shop door, taking Dennis up to the counter.

"Hi!" the receptionist, Ann, greeted, warmly. "There's our new friend. Are you ready for this, Dennis?"

"Hi, Ann! M'ready!" Dennis agreed, waving.

"Marty's almost ready, too. It'll be just a minute."

"Thanks, Ann," MacGyver said.

Marty came out and smiled warmly.

"Hi, Dennis."

"Hi, Marty," Dennis said back, more polite than warm.

In the barbershop, Ann was the favorite.

"Are you ready?"

"Yeah."

MacGyver carried Dennis to the barber's chair, settling him in.

"Okay, I'm gonna wrap this sheet around you now," Marty told him.

"Why?"

"To keep you clean."

"No wash m'hair!" Dennis ordered, though the words were a bit garbled.

He tried to get his hands past the sheet to grab at his hair.

"What?"

"He doesn't want you to wash his hair."

"No, I'm not going to wash it," Marty promised. "I'm just going to spray a little water on it, then comb it."

"Comb? I see!" Dennis insisted, holding out his hand.

"You want to see the comb? Um. Okay," Marty said, giving him the comb.

Dennis held it, turning it over in his hands a few times, then handed it back.

"Okay!"

"Okay. Hold still."

Marty sprayed and combed Dennis' hair, taking out the tangles and leaving it laying sleek against his head. Taking the scissors, he separated off a section of bangs. Marty made the first cut, sending a clump of black hair to the floor.

Dennis gave a soft, shocked gasp.

Marty pulled back, looking down at his small client. Dennis' eyes had grown huge, as looked back and forth from the clump of hair to Marty. He raised his hand to his bangs, feeling the newly cut edge.

"You cut me!" Dennis proclaimed, his eyes narrowing from shocked to piercing.

Marty almost took a step back. Really, a kid that small shouldn't have such an intense gaze. If Dennis had possessed any height at all, Marty was sure he'd have been looming. As it was, Marty just hoped Dennis didn't try to bite or kick him. That was always awkward and painful.

"You okay, Baby 'doc?" Jack asked, reminding Dennis of his presence.

"Jack! Look!"

"Yeah, I'm lookin', Baby 'doc. It's okay."

"Nuh uh! Look! Bitsa ME," Dennis squawked, touching his cupped hands to his chest, before moving them to point at the clump of hair, "onna FLOOR!"

"Yeah, the bits that were getting into your eyes," MacGyver reminded Dennis, dryly, walking over and squatting in front of him. "That's why we're here remember? To get your hair cut."

"OFF?!" Dennis asked indignantly.

"Yeah," MacGyver said, chuckling helplessly. "Some of your hair is getting cut off. It'll grow back, believe me."

"Ohhhh," Dennis objected, rubbing the cut spot anxiously.

"C'mon, bud, we gotta let him finish," MacGyver told him. "You can't leave with a partial cut."

"No scissors!" Dennis announced, pointing at the offensive item. "If cut hair, no scissors! I's a rule!"

"Uh, when did that happen?" MacGyver asked, warily.

"Piggy did that."

"Whose hair did Piggy cut?" Jack asked, confused.

"An'mal."

"Oh, Muppet Babies, your cartoon," MacGyver laughed, relieved. "Well, Marty's allowed to cut hair. It's his job."

"Ohhhh," Dennis huffed, disappointed.

"You want me to hold you, while he's cutting some of your hair off, Baby 'doc?" Jack offered. "I can keep an eye on him that way."

"It's gotta be done, buddy," MacGyver insisted, gently.

"Okay," Dennis agreed in a soft, sad voice.

"All right, come here."

Dennis let Jack pick him up and they settled together back into the chair. Marty gave a sigh of relief. Continuing the haircut, he worked as efficiently and quickly as he reasonably could, without making mistakes. Dennis looked straight ahead his hands clutching his knees, as he avoided watching his hair falling away.

"He's almost done, Baby 'doc," Jack assured him, running his hand in circles over Dennis' back.

"Yeah."

"Hey, relax. You're tighter than a kite string. Trust me. He's doing a good job."

"Yeah," Dennis repeated, leaning back.

Fortunately, Marty needed to make only a couple of more small snips. He put the scissors down, then ran the comb once more through Dennis' hair, sifting out the few cut strands that had clung to the boys' head.

"All right. We're finished," Marty announced, removing the sheet and turning the chair. "Take a look, Dennis, okay?"

Dennis stood up on the footrest of the chair, leaning over with his hands on the small counter underneath the mirror. He peered anxiously at his reflection, his mouth in a tight line and his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"What do you think?" Marty asked, gently.

"Ummm, i's okay," Dennis finally said, relaxing and sitting back on Jack's lap. He turned to Jack for assurance. "M'good?"

"Yeah, you're lookin' good, Baby 'doc."

"Yes, you are," MacGyver agreed, coming over and running his fingers over Dennis' hair. "And, since you're looking good, do you think you can say thank you to Marty?"

Dennis looked from his hair on the floor, then back to the mirror, turning his head from side to side.

"Thank you," he said simply, giving a small shrug. "Show Ann!"

"Okay, let's show Ann and pay up," MacGyver agreed, grinning. "Thank you, Marty."

"I said that!" Dennis scolded.

"So? I'm grateful, too," MacGyver told him, arching an eyebrow at him. "We can both thank him."

Dennis just blew raspberries, shaking his head, as MacGyver rolled his eyes. They went back to the front desk and Ann clapped her hands lightly.

"Oh, my, you look handsome!" she told Dennis.

"Yep! Marty cut me."

"Well, he cut your hair," Ann agreed, laughing a bit, as she rang up the bill.

"Yah, cut it off."

"I didn't explain that part too well, apparently," MacGyver told her dryly.

"Oh, well, he'll remember next time, won't you, Dennis?"

"Nooooo, no nexs time. Not this li'l Dennis! No, no."

"Yeah, there's going to be a next time, probably in a few months," MacGyver warned.

"More times??" Dennis said, waving his hands in a wild shrug. "Aw!"

"Yeah, ya gotta keep your hair tidy," Jack chimed in.

"Don' wanna," Dennis said matter-of-factly.

"Aw, but we look forward to seeing you," Ann coaxed.

"You wanna see?"

"Sure we do."

"Not soon," Dennis said, waving his hand in a gesture of denial.

"No, in a few months."

"Okay, let's go show Mommy your new haircut," MacGyver said. "Bye, Ann."

"Good-bye. Good-bye, Dennis!"

"Bye bye, Ann!"

"Cassian! Cassian!" Dennis cried, running into his brother's bedroom. "Guess!"

Cassian was sitting at his window. He sighed, but pasted on a smile, turning around.

"What?"

"Is my birthday! I three!" Dennis announced proudly, holding up three fingers.

"Yeah, I know. Happy Birthday," Cassian said, gently.

"I tell mommy!"

"Okay, go tell Mom."

Dennis ran out, just as MacGyver appeared in the doorway.

"Daddy, I three!" Dennis yelled, before running off.

"Yeah, I know," MacGyver agreed, chuckling, then turning to Cassian. "Breakfast is ready."

"Okay, I'll be down in a minute."

MacGyver studied his oldest son for a moment, then came into the room, shutting the door.

"Are you okay?"

"He's thirty-nine, actually," Cassian said, flatly.

MacGyver sat down at Cassian's desk, smiling sadly.

"I'm sorry. Sometimes, I think we get caught up with Dennis and don't give you enough attention."

"That's not true," Cassian disagreed, astonished. "You're a great dad! I love you and mom. It's just...I still miss him. I mean, I know that's silly..."

"No, no it isn't. There's no expiration date on grief."

"He's still here. Sort of."

"Sort of. You have a little brother, now. But, the father you knew and loved for ten years...he's not here and might not ever be. He might never remember that you're his son."

Cassian sniffled, trying to fight back tears. MacGyver shook his head, standing and hugging him.

"I know to the world we have to pretend that Dennis is an ordinary boy. But, amongst ourselves, we can be honest. If you want or need to talk about Murdoc, we can. You don't have to keep everything bottled up."

"I don't want to ruin his birthday," Cassian complained.

"I don't think you could, if you tried," MacGyver told him, wryly. "He's pretty over the moon, right now. But, we can put this off a little longer. How about you and me go on a hike tomorrow? We can talk then, if you feel like it."

"Okay," Cassian agreed, cheering up a bit. "Thanks, Dad."

"You're welcome," MacGyver said, gently, placing a kiss on the top of Cassian's head. "You ready to go eat or do you want a little more time?"

"Nah, let's eat. I can brood later," Cassian joked.

Downstairs, MacGyver took a detour to the kitchen, planning to offer Nasha some help. Instead of his wife, he found Dennis on the counter. He had the cover to his birthday cake off and was reaching towards some frosting.

"Dennis, no," MacGyver said forcing his voice to stay calm.

Dennis jerked his hand back, his eyes wide. He looked from MacGyver to the cake, then held the cover out.

"Um..."

"Now, I need you to tell me the truth," MacGyver cautioned, coming forward and replacing the cover over the cake.

"I see the cake," Dennis said, as if the act were completely reasonable.

"Mmhmmm. Is that the whole truth? I really don't want to put you in time out on your birthday."

"Time out?" Dennis asked sadly.

"That's the rule for lying."

"I was taste. Only little bit!"

"Yeah, but the cake is for your party, remember? We need to wait for everyone else to get here, too."

"Everyone?"

"Yeah. Our family and some friends. We even invited a couple of kids you play with at preschool."

"Well. I very hungry."

"That's because it's time for breakfast. We need to go sit at the table now."

"Okay," Dennis agreed.

To MacGyver's dismay, Dennis ignored the chair that had helped him climb up onto the table. Instead, he simply flung himself off the counter and onto the floor. He landed heavily on his feet, before dropping to one knee with a startled huff.

"Dennis!" MacGyver yelped, starting forward.

"I coming!" Dennis assured him, crossly.

"Yeah, can you come along, without trying to break one of your legs?" MacGyver complained.

"I not broke."

"Yeah, next time, just use the chair, please. You could get hurt throwing yourself off of things!"

"Daddyyyyy. Is fun."

"Getting hurt, maybe spending your birthday getting your leg put in a cast, is fun?"

"I dunno. I never did!"

"Well, I know. Take my word for it. Breakfast and parties are more fun than broken legs."

"Okay," Dennis conceded. "Breakfast first!"

"Yup, breakfast first," MacGyver agreed, ruffling his hair.

June 8th. 2:30 P.M.

Bozer sat on the couch, flipping through the television channels. He considered giving up and putting on a DVD. Finding a show to interest a three-year-old, but not annoy himself was ...about as impossible as it sounded. Bozer just wasn't sure the DVD collection would be much better. He switched remotes, waiting for Dennis to come back from getting a toy in his room.

The minutes ticked by and Bozer grew uneasy. Didn't they say "silence is suspicious?"

Bozer got up and went to Dennis' bedroom. His unease grew, when he saw it was empty. Toys were strewn about on the floor, giving the room a ransacked aspect. Bozer gave himself a shake. Of course, the room was a mess. What kid didn't make a mess, when searching for a toy? There was nothing suspicious about it...except that Dennis wasn't in here. Bozer went back out of the room and down the hall, checking the bathroom. It was dark and empty. Bozer felt acid panic rising in his throat.

His best friend was going to murder him.

Nasha had a doctor's appointment that morning, so Bozer had volunteered to spend the day with Dennis. It was rare for Nasha and MacGyver to get any real alone time, so Bozer had encouraged them to make a day of it, going first to the doctor, then spending some time together, relaxing outside the house. It had seemed easy enough. Cassian was at school, so Bozer and Dennis could just hang around the house. Only, now the kid was missing!

"Dennis!" Bozer called out, hoping the boy would hear and come running.

Nothing. Bozer began searching the house, making himself search the rooms in an orderly fashion. He checked all of the bedrooms, then the downstairs bathroom, occasionally calling out to Dennis. Finally, he went into the kitchen, full of dread. If he didn't find Dennis in here, he was going to have to call MacGyver.

"Dennis!" Bozer shouted, the name a bit harsh from desperation.

"What?"

Bozer froze, relief and confusion washing over him. Dennis was nowhere to be seen and his voice sounded muffled. Bozer walked around the kitchen island, but didn't find his charge.

"Where are you?"

"I'm here," Dennis said, giggling.

Bozer frowned, realizing the voice was coming from the kitchen island. Kneeling down, Bozer opened one of the doors to its interior. Dennis sat in the middle of the island, with a flashlight held to his chin, illuminating his face. Murdoc would have been proud of the child's smirking grin. Bozer dropped his head, laughing helplessly.

"What are you doing??" he asked, plaintively.

"I'm playing," Dennis said, as if it were obvious.

"With a flashlight. Inside a cabinet. Sitting on clean dishes," Bozer emphasized, shaking his head.

"Um? Yeah," Dennis agreed, shrugging. "Look, Bozer!"

Dennis moved the flashlight around, turning it on and off.

"Yeah, I get the idea," Bozer assured him. "Now, come out of there, please."

"Nooooo. I need dark!"

"You need to not put your dirty little butt on clean dishes!"

"My butt's not dirty. I go potty inna potty!"

"Dennis. You've been playing and those dishes are used to cook food. Please, buddy, come out of there."

"I wanna play light," Dennis argued mournfully, giving Bozer a good dose of puppy eyes.

Bozer sighed, thinking hard, then grinned.

"Okay, how about this? You come out of there and we'll build a fort in the living room, where it can be nice and dark inside."

"Build fort?"

"Yeah. We'll get some blankets and cushions and stuff and make a cool fort."

"Okay," Dennis agreed, crawling out of the island.

"Cool. You go to the living room and pick out a DVD and I'll gather some stuff up," Bozer instructed, swearing to himself to check on the boy every few seconds.

"Bozer! I pick good movie!"

"I can hope, I guess."

Bozer gathered stuff together, placing everything in a pile on the armchair. Dennis, to his credit, was sitting on the couch, a DVD on the seat beside him, showing Bark his flashlight.

"What'd you pick, buddy?"

"I pick Mary!"

Bozer took the DVD, seeing the Mary Poppins Returns cover.

"Mary Poppins? You like this?"

"Um! I love Mary," Dennis claimed, sassily.

"Okay, okay. Mary Poppins it is."

They began hauling cushions into place, after using a thick blanket as the fort's flooring. Dennis seemed to enjoy the songs from Mary Poppins, more than the plot scenes. When the characters were talking, he sang his own songs. Bozer listened with amusement, occasionally singing along.

"People are strange, when people, faces ugly, with no nose," Dennis crooned.

"Whoa, what is this? The Phantom of the Opera version?" Bozer asked, laughing. "That is not how that song goes, buddy."

"Uh huh. Jack play me song."

"Okay, first, it's 'faces look ugly, when you're alone...'"

"Noooo. You alone, no face! No face, no ugly!"

"Uh, okay, but it's definitely 'people are strange, when you're a stranger.' I would've thought you would like that line, since you don't like people you don't know."

"I'm not stranger!" Dennis yelled, then huffed. "Strangers not people. I am!"

"Uh, little dude, we gotta talk," Bozer said gravely. "Come here and sit with me for a moment."

Dennis shrugged, walking over to Bozer, who settled them side by side on the couch.

"Listen. I get it. Strangers are scary. But, they definitely are people."

"Strangers are people?" Dennis repeated slowly, unsure.

"Yeah! Just because you don't know them, doesn't mean no one does. They got family, mommies and daddies, brothers and sisters, friends."

Dennis' eyes went wide.

"Strangers?!"

"Yeah, strangers. So, you don't gotta trust them, but you can't be mean to them."

"What if stranger is mean?"

"Well, y'know, if someone tries to hurt you first, you stop them. But, if they're leaving you alone, you need to leave them alone."

"Stranger leaves alone, I leave alone," Dennis repeated slowly.

"Right. When you can, help people. Don't hurt them."

"I help! I help Daddy, Mommy, my Cassian..."

"Yeah, you do pretty good with family."

"My family."

"Yeah, we're all your family," Bozer agreed, mussing Dennis' hair.

"Hi, guys!" Cassian said, coming in the door.

"Hey, pal."

"Cassian!" Dennis cried, happily, running over and hugging him. "Cassian's home!"

"Yup, I'm here. Cool fort!" Cassian agreed, hugging back.

"Thanks," Bozer said. "We haven't been working on it long. Dennis wants someplace to play with his flashlight."

"Uh oh," Cassian laughed. "Are Mom and Dad home, yet?"

"No, not yet. I'm not sure if they'll be here for supper or not."

"We will," MacGyver said, coming in the door, smiling widely.

"We stayed in town just long enough to make sure Cassian got home a little before us," Nasha clarified.

"Mommy and Daddy's home!" Dennis announced, bouncing over to them. "Daddy! I have fort now!"

"I see that," MacGyver said, picking him up, tucking a shopping bag further up on his arm. "Have a seat, guys. We have some news."

"Is everything okay?" Cassian asked, softly, worried.

"Oh, sweetheart, everything's fine," Nasha said, laughing a bit, and drawing him into a hug.

MacGyver sat on the couch, with Dennis on his lap.

"It's good news, actually."

Cassian breathed easier, relaxing. He sat down between Nasha and MacGyver, leaning into her just a bit.

"Okay, well, I'm not going to drag it out. I'm pregnant," Nasha announced, happily, grinning widely, with tears in her eyes.

"I don't know that," Dennis told her, shrugging.

"It means, she's going to have a baby," Cassian explained, his own voice soft with wonder.

"A baby!" Dennis crowed, clapping. "Where is baby?"

"Well, right now, the baby is inside of me. It'll be some time, before the baby can come out."

"Inside?" Dennis repeated. "Inside you? But. I wanna hold baby!"

"Well, unfortunately, you have to wait," MacGyver said, chuckling.

"Ooooh," Dennis drawled, frowning, but then the cloud lifted. "Which kind of baby?"

"Kind?" Nasha asked, confused.

"Gurl or boy!"

"It'll be some time, before we know that," MacGyver admitted.

"You not know?" Dennis demanded indignantly.

"Nope. We gotta wait."

"Wait again," Dennis complained, hitting his forehead with an open palm. "How much?"

"It's going to be a loooong nine months," Cassian predicted, laughing.

"Nine?!"

Dennis studied everyone's faces, dismayed at the large number. That was almost all of his fingers!

"Yup. Here. I bought this to help you," MacGyver told him, pulling a two-year calendar out of his shopping bag. He opened it up to June 2019 and showed it to Dennis. "All of those squares represent one day. This square is today."

"That today?" Dennis asked, tapping the square.

"Yup, right now. So, let's mark that one," MacGyver said, taking a pen and making a smiley face in the square. So, this should be when we'll find out if you have a sister or brother coming."

Mac drew brackets around the first week of September.

"What that?"

"That's September. And, sometime around here," MacGyver continued, making marks on the second and third weeks of January, "is when the baby will be born."

Dennis grabbed, the calendar, flipping through it and frowning.

"That lotsa days," he said, amazed.

"Yeah, it takes a long time, for a baby to grow," MacGyver agreed.

"But, I want baby."

"I know, but, we have a lot to do, before that. We need to convert my study into a nursery, choose a name for the baby, and other stuff, too."

"Mmmmmph, all the days?" Dennis pleaded, mournfully.

"That's how long it takes," Nasha agreed, with patience.

"Ooof," Dennis huffed.

"But, just think, when the baby is born you'll be a big brother!" Bozer told him, laughing. "That's pretty cool, right? Congratulations, guys."

"Thanks, Bozer," MacGyver said, warmly.

"I be best big brother!" Dennis said, happily.

"What will I be then?" Cassian asked archly.

"Um. You my best brother."

"But, not the baby's?"

"No, I'm baby's best brother."

"Okay, fair enough," Cassian conceded, laughing.

"You'll both be wonderful," MacGyver encouraged, proudly.

October 26th, 2019. 3 P.M.

Dennis squeezed Bark tightly in his arms. They were at the top of the slide and Dennis always liked to look around for a second or two, before launching himself down. Daddy and Aunt Matty sat on a bench, a few feet away, deep in conversation. Dennis pouted. They weren't even going to wave at him and see how brave he was! Another kid shouted behind him, so Dennis shoved off, enjoying the giddy speed of the slide.

Well, until he got about halfway down and fell sideways off of the slide.

Dennis couldn't help giving a startled yelp, waving Bark around and almost dropping him. Hitting the ground with a sharp thud, Dennis lay still, feeling a bit stunned. He gave a few half-hearted sobs. Bits of him hurt, but he was too surprised to care very much. Sadly, his daddy and Aunt Matty didn't feel the same way, rushing over and staring down at him. They both wore looks of concern and frustration that Dennis always found vaguely irritating. He took a deep breath and began pulling himself to his feet.

"I'm fine!" he told them, trying to sound cheerful.

That only seemed to make things worse. Daddy now looked almost angry, as well as worried.
He knelt down next to Dennis and studied him sharply.

"Dennis..." he began, then stopped, sighing. "Buddy, you need to hold onto the rails of the slide."

"No, Daddy!" Dennis protested. "I hold Bark."

"I could hold Bark for you, when you go down the slide," Matty offered.

"NOOoooo!" Dennis cried, real tears appearing. "Bark wants slide! Daddy, no!"

"Dennis, calm down," MacGyver instructed. "We just don't want you to get hurt."

"I'm not hurt!"

"You could have been, though, and sooner or later, you will be, if you don't be more careful," MacGyver told him, firmly.

"Careful?" Dennis repeated, unhappily.

"Yeah, buddy. We need you to be careful."

"Ohhhh, Bark. No more slide," Dennis sighed, mournfully, his breath hitching.

MacGyver sighed, rolling his eyes, mostly at himself, for letting Dennis' sad gaze get to him.

"We're not saying you can't take Bark on the slide. We just need you to not fall off. Look. Can you hold onto Bark with one hand and hold onto the rail with the other?"

"Yeah," Dennis agreed, nodding.

"Okay. If you can do that and not fall off, you can keep going down with Bark."

"Yeah, I can! Watch, Daddy!"

"Hey, just a minute," MacGyver said, beckoning him closer. "Come here."

"What?" Dennis asked, puzzled.

"I love you," MacGyver told Dennis, kissing his forehead.

"I love you, Daddy. Bark love you," Dennis told him, gently batting Bark's head against MacGyver's nose.

"Thanks," MacGyver said, laughing. "So, be careful for me. Right?"

"I be very careful," Dennis promised, turning to get back in line for the slide.

"I'll believe it, when I see it," Matty said, with solemn amusement.

"I'm not sure I'll believe it, even then," MacGyver admitted, chuckling. "He terrifies me more as a toddler, than he ever did as an assassin."

"Murdoc knew how to take care of himself," Matty teased.

"I'd be satisfied, if Dennis showed any interest in taking care of himself."

"He will. You just have to be patient and keep teaching him."

Blissfully unaware of their conversation, Dennis went down the slide, then ran over to spend time with Cassian. His brother was playing with the other older boys, tossing around baseballs.

"Cassian! I fall off the slide."

"Are you hurt? Where's Dad?"

"No! I not cry. Only little bit!"

Cassian just gave a weary sigh, rolling his eyes.

"Someone needs to explain self-preservation to you."

"Um. I'm three," Dennis reminded him sassily, holding up three fingers.

"Yeah, and it'd be nice to see you reach four."

"Let the brat hurt himself," another boy told Cassian. "It won't kill him. It might teach him a lesson."

"Shut up, Ryan," Cassian said, sighing. "I'm not gonna be mean to him, just to be mean."

"I'm not brat! I'm Dennis!"

"No one cares, runt," Ryan sneered.

"I care," Cassian warned.

"You're such a girl, Cassian. Your name even sounds like a girl's name. We should call you Cassie!"

"You're such a tool, Ryan," Bobby, Cassian's best friend, scoffed.

"Tools are useful. Ryan's just annoying," Cassian disagreed, grinning, making the other boys around them laugh.

Ryan flushed red, storming over to Cassian and pushing him. He staggered back, almost falling.

"Come here and say that again, girly boy!"

"No! You not hurt Cassian!" Dennis screamed, rushing up to Ryan and smacking at him.

"Get away from me, runt!" Ryan ordered, shoving Dennis.

Dennis hit the ground, but was up again almost immediately. Rage colored his face red, his eyes flashing. Giving an angry cry, Dennis rushed right back at Ryan. He managed to grab the older boy's leg and sank his teeth into Ryan's lower thigh, where his shorts ended. Dennis chomped down hard, drawing a shocked cry of pain.

"Dennis, quit!" Cassian shouted, horrified. "What are you doing?!"

"He's bad boy!" Dennis yelled, shaking his hand at Ryan.

"You bit him!"

"He hit! He's bad boy!"

"Dennis. Enough," Matty said, coming over to them. "Say you're sorry."

"NO!"

"Yes, Dennis. You're already getting a timeout. You have to play nice. No biting."

"He hurt my Cassian," Dennis whimpered.

"I know. You're right. He's not behaving well. But, that doesn't mean you can bite."

Dennis burst into tears, running over and hugging Cassian.

"My Cassian. Not hurt my CASSIAN!"

"I'm not going to let him hurt Cassian," Matty promised, leveling a cold gaze on Ryan. "Young man, I don't know where your parents are, but I strongly suggest you keep your hands to yourself. Otherwise, I'll step in and do some parenting. Understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am," Ryan agreed, shaken.

"Dennis. Come on. Time to say sorry."

"I'm not sorry. He's bad boy," Dennis sobbed.

"Dennis," Matty repeated, calmly, but severely. "Now."

Dennis whined in protest, but turned to face the other boy. Raising his head, he glared angrily, his lip pushed out. He opened his mouth, then shut it again, shaking his head.

"Come on. It's okay to be angry. Just be sorry for biting."

"Sorry," Dennis said angrily. "I not bite bad boys."

"I'm glad to hear that," MacGyver said, returning from the restroom.

"I was about to take Dennis to the benches for his timeout," Matty explained.

"Good. Once that's done, we can talk about alternatives to biting," MacGyver agreed, nodding.

"Daddy! He hurt Cassian!" Dennis accused.

"No, he didn't, you daddy hen," Cassian denied, exasperated. "Ryan just pushed me. And, I can fight my own battles."

"Yes, and now that Dennis has apologized, I think it's Ryan's turn. He not only pushed Cassian. He shoved Dennis to the ground."

MacGyver shot Ryan a hard glance, his mouth tightening. Ryan looked at the ground, knowing he had gone too far. Shoving a kid his own age was one thing. Shoving a baby was another, even in his parents' books. Sure enough, his mother, Deidre, finally stopped talking to one of the other mothers long enough to notice something was up.

"Ryan, what is going on?"

"Um. Me and Cassian were rough-housing a bit and his little brother got in the way. He got knocked to the ground and then he bit me!" Ryan said defensively.

"Ryan, you have to be more careful around little kids," Deidre scolded, before turning on MacGyver. "I hope you're going to teach that boy not to bite. I know he's little, but he can't just go around biting."

"That's not what happened!" Cassian protested.

"Excuse me?" Deidre said severely. "Are you saying my son lied?"

"Well, he polished up the truth a bit. I saw what happened. Cassian never laid a hand on anyone. Ryan pushed him. When Dennis got mad and hit at him, Ryan deliberately shoved him to the ground. Then, Dennis bit him," Matty said firmly.

"And, yes, Dennis is going into time out for biting," MacGyver assured her. "But, I don't appreciate your son laying hands on my boys."

"My son does not act like that," Deidre said, angrily. "He knows better."

"We're waiting for Ryan's apology," Matty said, pinning Deidre with her gaze.

Deidre stood as tall as she could, trying to stare haughtily down at Matty, even as she shrank inside. She prepared a scathing reply. Fortunately, Ryan was faster and wiser.

"I'm sorry. I'll leave them alone."

"Thank you. All right, Dennis. Let's go get your timeout done."

"Ooohhhh," Dennis moaned, casting a longing look at Cassian.

"Go on," Cassian told him. "You gotta learn better."

Dennis looked stricken, giving a small sob, before walking off with MacGyver, his head hanging down. He spent the short walk to the benches whispering to himself.

"My Cassian...I gotta help...Ryan's bad boy...he is. I only bite little! He hurt Cassian. That bad boy..."

"All right," MacGyver interrupted, lifting Dennis and setting him on the bench. "You know the rules. You gotta not talk. You're here for three minutes."

Dennis nodded, sniffling pitifully. MacGyver forced himself to ignore his upset child. He understood. Of course, he didn't approve of Dennis biting, but he still understood. MacGyver was angry, too, though more at Ryan's mother, than the boy himself. MacGyver knew from experience the frustration of dealing with parents who saw nothing wrong with their child's bullying behavior. He also knew just how much Dennis loved Cassian. It amazed him that Murdoc's protective instincts were so strong, they had survived his reversion back to childhood.

"Okay, three minutes is up," MacGyver announced, when his watch timer went off.

"I go see Cassian," Dennis said, eagerly, bouncing up.

"Whoa, hold on. We gotta talk about what you're going to do instead of biting."

"I not bite, Daddy," Dennis promised.

"Good. What are you going to do?"

"Um. I just...I..."

"Get help?" MacGyver suggested.

"I do help!"

"Yes, you do, thank you. And, sometimes, you need help, too."

"You help me?"

"I can help you, yes. Matty can help you."

"Mommy? Jack?"

"Them, too," MacGyver agreed. "Any adult...well, almost."

"Help with bad boys?"

"That's right," MacGyver said, proudly. "Tell an adult. We'll stop kids who are bad to you."

"Cassian and sister baby!"

"And them, yes."

"If bad boys mean," Dennis said, pausing for MacGyver to agree, "tell adult."

"Yes. Let us help."

"You help. I not bite."

"That's a good guy," MacGyver praised, kissing Dennis' cheek. "You can go play now."

"He's learning," Matty assured MacGyver as Dennis ran off.

"Yeah, I know," MacGyver assured her, a bit wryly. "Ryans of the world, beware, though."

Cassian watched a bit, as MacGyver and Dennis talked.

"You gotta give the kid credit," Bobby told Cassian. "I wish my kid brother took up for me like that."

"Be nicer to him," Cassian advised, dryly.

"Okay, point, but still," Bobby laughed.

"On the other hand, you don't have to worry about your little brother getting pummeled."

"Yeah, Dennis does kinda lack sense," Tommy, another friend, pointed out. "Why's he so worried? What's his problem?"

"His problem is he's a baby. But, deep in his heart, Dennis thinks he's ten feet tall and bulletproof."

"He's pretty fearless," Bobby agreed. "Can you imagine what he'll be like, when your mom has your sister?"

"I'm hoping he outgrows that," Cassian said, annoyed. "He'll protect her from the whole world. I'll protect her from him."

"Aw, cut him some slack," Tommy said. "He's a good kid."

"And, here he comes," Bobby announced.

Dennis ran up and flung himself at Cassian into a hug. Cassian hugged briefly back, then handed Dennis a baseball to play with.

"Cassian not hurt?"

"No, Daddy hen. I'm fine."

"I'm not Daddy! I'm Dennis!" he told Cassian, not noticing the flash of sorrow in Cassian's eyes.

"Yeah. Dad's not crazy."

"I crazy?!" Dennis screeched, laughing.

"Yeah, he's worried about you," Bobby tattled.

"Aw," Dennis cooed, patting Cassian on the head. "I not bite."

"Glad to hear it," Cassian said, laughing and shaking his head.

"I get adult. Adult help you and sister baby."

"You're the one who needs help."

"Yeah, Daddy help me."

"Never mind. Come on. Lets play catch."

November 11th, 2019. MacGyver's house.

Dennis sat at the kitchen table, coloring, while Cassian did homework. The kitchen was warm from the over, where chicken and potatoes baked inside a bubbling cheese sauce. Cassian sighed, the rich smell making his stomach grumble hungrily.

"Cassian! Look at my pony."

Cassian looked, then grinned, seeing the clear container on the counter behind Dennis. The container was full of chocolate chip cookies. Cassian could make out the sugary texture of the chewy cookies and the bountiful lumps of chips and walnuts.

"I wish I could have a couple of those cookies Mom made. I'm getting hungry."

"You can have cookies," Dennis offered, kindly, nodding.

"Uh, no," MacGyver disagreed, coming into the kitchen. "We're eating supper soon."

Dennis gasped, indignant.

"My Cassian can have cookies!"

"Yeah, he can. After supper."

"He's very hungry, Daddy!"

"We're eating very soon. In about half an hour, maybe less, we'll eat. I just have to put a salad together."

"No!" Dennis insisted, pounding the table. "He is good boy. He does school. He can have two cookies!"

"No," MacGyver answered calmly, as Cassian laughed. "Supper first. Then cookies."

Dennis opened his mouth to protest more, but Cassian leaned over, ruffling his hair.

"Chill out. It's fine. Supper smells really good."

"I tell Mommy!" Dennis threatened, getting up.

"Good. Let her know I'm making the salad."

"I will!" Dennis sassed, angrily.

"Wow," MacGyver observed, amused, as Dennis stormed off.

"If it helps, he wouldn't have let me have cookies, either," Cassian said, smirking a bit.

"Good to know," MacGyver agreed, rummaging in the refrigerator for vegetables.

He dumped his armload on the counter, then paused.

"I do worry, sometimes. If he ever does remember, I hope he doesn't resent me."

"He won't," Cassian said with simple confidence.

"I took his place in your life."

"Someone had to. And, he did ask you to take care of me."

"Yeah, he did," MacGyver agreed, wryly, beginning to chop a pepper.

"Dad? Did you like him?"

MacGyver hesitated, considering the question. He shredded lettuce, as he thought, letting the simple movement help him focus.

"I don't...I was trying to catch him. I never thought about him in those terms. I respected him, his abilities, at least."

"I guess you didn't really know him well," Cassian suggested, disappointed.

"Not very," Mac agreed. "And, my hindsight is definitely colored by our present reality as family."

"Was he mean to you? I mean, I know being a criminal isn't nice, but..."

"You mean his manner? He was pretty jovial, mostly. I don't know, now, if he was mocking us or not."

"He talked about you," Cassian said, softly. "I thought he liked you."

"Yeah," MacGyver agreed, laughing and amazed. "Given his reactions to us after the meteor, I have to agree."

"I don't think he'll resent you. And, if he does, I'll tell him off."

"You'll just amuse him," MacGyver warned, smirking.

"Yeah. All brains and no sense," Cassian complained. "And he's so cute most people don't notice!"

"I hope I'm not in that category," MacGyver said, mildly offended, tearing open a bag of shredded carrots.

"Well, no, not the family. I mean, like, my friends and the other kids at preschool. Even Mrs. Henderson and she's his teacher!"

"I'll take that over them being terrified of him."

"Oh, he scares the heck out of people, sometimes. His stare creeps them out."

"Yeah, it's intense," MacGyver sighed.

"But, y'know? Those same people like him anyway. Again, because he's cute. Well, and he does try to be helpful."

"I'm proud of how helpful he can be," MacGyver agreed, setting the salad on the table, then picking up the crayons.

"I told Mommy!" Dennis announced, coming back into the room.

"What'd she say?" Cassian asked.

"She loves me. Sister baby's kicking her."

Dennis looked over at MacGyver, noticing the crayons in his hand.

"Mine, Daddy!" he objected.

"We gotta set the table, so we can eat."

Dennis climbed back into his chair and stared at the salad, unimpressed.

"Lettuce?"

"There's chicken and potatoes in the oven," MacGyver reminded him, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, I want potatoes."

"Coming right up."

November 14th. 3 P.M.

Riley came into the house from the patio. She thought she'd heard knocking on the door. Stepping into the hallway, she found her boyfriend Billy standing in the doorway. Between them, Dennis stood, glaring up at Billy. Hearing Riley, Dennis took a couple of steps towards her, holding his arms out to keep her back.

"Careful!" Dennis warned, before turning and pointing sternly at Billy. "This is stranger."

"Dennis, that isn't a stranger. That's my boyfriend, Billy."

"Stranger is Billy," Dennis repeated, in the same suspicious tone.

"Yeah, Billy," Riley agreed, going over to him and kissing him.

"Riley!" Dennis protested. "That not careful!"

"Sorry, little dude," Billy told him, holding his hands out at his sides. "I come in peace."

"Noooo, you are stranger!"

"Does that make me a bad guy?"

"You never know with stranger!"

"Dennis. I know him," Riley said, walking over and picking Dennis up. "I promise he's a good guy."

"You know him?"

"Yeah. In fact, I love him. I might even marry him," Riley teased, though meaning it, too.

"You. Marry him?" Dennis asked, sighing, then shook his head, drawling out, "I don't know."

"You don't get a say in the matter," Riley told him, laughing. "I do."

"Who else?"

"No one."

"Daddy or Jack?" Dennis asked, offering her a choice.

"Neither. Look, I want you to be nice to Billy. He's here to get to know everyone."

"I am nice! I not bite or hit."

"Did you say hello?"

"Um..."

"Yeah, as he was opening the door," Billy assured her, grinning.

"Better than nothing," Riley admitted.

"You want us know him?" Dennis asked, frowning.

"Yeah, I do."

"Okay," Dennis agreed smugly. "I ask! Who are you?"

"I'm Billy Colton. I'm a bounty hunter," Billy answered, mildly.

"Hmmmm. Where?"

"I live and work in New Orleans."

"New Orleans?" Dennis challenged, his eyes narrowing.

"Yeah, that's in Louisiana."

"Louie's Anna?" Dennis repeated, laughing. "You live inna girl?!"

"What? No! Louisiana. It's a southern state!"

Dennis just blew raspberries, shaking his head.

"You're nice?"

"I try to be nice, sure."

"You're nice to my Riley?" Dennis demanded, staring hard at him.

"I hope so. She tells me, if she doesn't like something."

"Okay, y'know, the interrogation is over. Were you doing something, before you answered the door?"

"Yeah. I want, oof," Dennis huffed in frustration, waving his hands. "I dunno. I want Daddy, then Billy was at the door, and...OH! Fuzzy sticks!"

"Excuse me?!" Billy asked, astounded, drawing a laugh from Riley.

"I want my fuzzy sticks," Dennis scolded him.

"Good, why don't you go tell Mac?" Riley suggested.

"Yes!" Dennis agreed, clambering out of her arms. He pointed his finger at Billy, warning, "I'mma tell my daddy!"

"What is a fuzzy stick?" Billy asked, confused.

"It's something that is definitely not used to clean pipes," Riley answered, dryly.

"No! Fuzzy sticks don't clean!" Dennis complained, shaking his head violently. "They for making pretties!"

"Yeah, that's what I said. They're a craft thing," Riley promised, holding her hands up in surrender.

"Where is my daddy?" Dennis asked, looking around.

"He's on the patio," Riley told him.

"Okay!"

Dennis ran off and Billy gave a bemused laugh.

"That is one intense little dude!"

"You've no idea," Riley agreed. "Come on. We don't have to wait here for Mac."

Riley led Billy out onto the patio, finding MacGyver standing near the door, holding Dennis' hand.

"See, Daddy?!" Dennis said, pointing at Billy. "That's stranger. His name is Billy..."

"Aw, now, what's wrong with the name Billy?" he asked, putting a note of hurt in his voice.

"It's your name," Dennis told him, sassily.

"Dennis!" Nasha gasped, even as Billy laughed. "Tell him sorry!"

"Sorry," Dennis sighed. "But, you know what he did??"

"What did he do?" MacGyver asked, mildly.

"He kiss Riley!"

"Technically, I kissed him."

Dennis rolled his eyes, in perfect imitation of MacGyver, turning to look at the patio seats.

Matty sat close to Nasha, while Jack, Leanna, and Bozer sat across from them. Dennis frowned. None of them seemed impressed by what he said.

"Riley can kiss whoever she wants," MacGyver said firmly. "Now, come on. I'll help you find your fuzzy sticks. Cassian will be home soon, too."

"I gotta tell him about Billy!"

"We'll introduce him to Billy," MacGyver promised, going into the house with him.

"Wow," Billy said, after Dennis was out of earshot.

"I'm sorry. I promise he gets friendlier, once he gets to know people."

"Nah, it's cool," Billy assured her. "I just feel like I need to make a good impression on him."

"That would help," Bozer agreed.

"Yeah, but impressing Baby 'doc is pretty random. You never know what will do it."

"I'll think of something. I'm pretty good with kids."

"Being good with kids and being good with Dennis are not the same things," Nasha admitted, dryly. "Hello, Billy, it's good to meet you. I'm Nasha MacGyver. I believe you've met the men, but not the ladies. This is Matty, the head of the Phoenix, and Leanna, who works with Mac and the others."

"Leanna is also my girlfriend," Bozer said, smiling lovingly at her.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Billy said, sitting down with Riley.

"I'm gonna call Mom and see when her and Mama are coming over. It helps if Dennis knows what's happening, before it happens."

"Has he met your mom?" Billy asked, curious.

"Oh, yeah. He loves Mom, now. He wouldn't even stay in the room with her, when they first met, though. Of course, he was younger then. It's amazing the difference a year can make."

"So, he's getting less antsy with strangers."

"Or he's just getting sassier about it," Riley said, laughing, searching through her jeans for her phone. "Crap. I left my phone inside. I'll be right back."

Riley went into the living room and promptly found her phone. It was in Dennis' hand.

"Yeah, she did kiss him," he said into the phone.

"Dennis. Who are you talking to? On my phone?" Riley asked sharply.

His eyes going wide, Dennis started, stepping back a bit.

"OH! Um...I'm talking to Miss Diane," he admitted, clutching the phone tighter.

"You called my Mom to tell on me?"

"Nooooo! I'm not telling! I'm asking," Dennis explained, holding a palm out to fend Riley off.

"Uh huh. About Billy?"

"Um, we talk about Billy, yeah," Dennis agreed, innocently. "She likes Billy."

"Dennis? Who are you talking to, sweetheart?" Diane asked.

"Uh, I'm talking to Riley."

"Dennis! Did you ask to use her phone?"

"Ah, no. I find phone in the living room."

"Give me my phone back, Dennis."

"Wait! I do one more little ask," Dennis pleaded, before speaking to Diane again. "Billy wants meet us. So. Why you not come see me?"

"I am going to come see you," Diane assured him. "I wanted to spend some time alone with his mom, first, and get to know her."

"Billy's mommy?!" Dennis exclaimed, shocked.

"Yeah, Billy has a mommy, go figure!" Riley answered. "In fact, she's coming over, when my mom does."

"Uh. Miss Diane, I go now, okay?"

"Okay, but let me talk to Riley. Don't hang up."

"Okay. She wants talk to you," Dennis told Riley holding the phone out.

"Thanks," Riley told him dryly, taking the phone. "Hey, Mom. Are you guys on your way over?"

"We're leaving in just a few minutes. We'll see you soon."

"Okay, see you when you get here. Love you," Riley said, then hung up. "So, what did you ask her about Billy?"

"I just ask if she knows him," Dennis said, pouting.

"Whatever. How did you even get my pattern?"

"I see the pretty you make."

"What's going on," MacGyver asked, the fuzzy sticks in his hand.

"My fuzzy sticks!" Dennis cried, happily.

"Yeah. It took me forever to find them, because you hid them behind the books in Cassian's bookcase. Why did you put them there?"

"For later!"

"Yeah, okay," MacGyver said, shaking his head. "Come on. You're going to spend time with everyone on the patio."

"Okay," Dennis sighed.

Dennis went back onto the patio, then crawled onto the open seat next to Nasha, snuggling into her side.

"It's all right, darling," she assured him.

"Strangers. Two strangers in our house," Dennis whispered, anxiously.

"Yes, but we know them and they're good people," Nasha told him, sighing, when she felt Dennis silently shaking his head.

"You might not like me," Billy told him, smiling warmly, "but I promise you're gonna like Mama. She's bringing over some pies for supper."

"I don't know you," Dennis said, sulking.

The doorbell rang and MacGyver stood to go get it.

"That'll be Miss Diane and Mrs. Colton. Be nice," MacGyver instructed.

"Yes, Daddy," Dennis agreed, in a small voice.

MacGyver came back a couple of minutes later, with Diane and Mama Colton. Everyone exchanged greetings, as Diane and Mama sat down with the company. Diane sat down next to Jack, who draped an arm around her. Mama sat on Jack's other side, a couple of feet from Nasha, but Dennis sat up abruptly, holding a hand out to her.

"No! That's too close!" he protested.

"Dennis, please," Nasha said, sternly.

"No, now, please, it's all right," Mama assured her, backing off a bit. "How about here? Is this okay, Dennis?"

"Ummmm, yeah," Dennis said, quietly. "You stay there. I stay with Mommy."

"That's right. You just want to be sure you and your family are safe, don't you?"

"Yeah. Gotta be careful with strangers," Dennis pleaded with Nasha.

"We're being careful, darling," Nasha promised, stroking his hair.

"Well, if you'll excuse me a minute. Where's..."

"Towards the back of the living room, to the left, where you see the lighted S sign," MacGyver instructed.

Billy stood and started to pass in front of Nasha, lightly brushing against her.

"Careful!" Dennis scolded, glaring up at him. "You're squooshing my sister baby!"

"Billy, go the other way," Mama ordered.

"I'm sorry," Billy said, surrendering and heading the other way.

"It's all right," Nasha assured him. "It's not you. He's just stressed."

"I understand," Billy said, kindly, aiming the comment at Dennis, too.

"So, you're having a little girl?" Mama said, warmly. "Congratulations."

"She's my sister baby," Dennis said, not looking at her. "Her name's Amanda."

Bending, Dennis placed a quick kiss on Nasha's belly.

"You could've told us you named her," Bozer scolded, mildly.

"We...didn't," MacGyver corrected, stunned.

"Dennis, who told you the baby is named Amanda?" Nasha asked, confused.

"I said that," Dennis told her, smiling brightly. "I give my sister baby a name."

"Don't you think your mom and I should get to name our daughter?"

Dennis' face crumpled, tears welling up in his eyes.

"She needs a name, Daddy!"

"Your mom and I will name her," MacGyver promised.

"But, you don't name her! I ask," Dennis accused, sobbing and standing to face MacGyver. "I ask is baby girl or boy. You don't tell me!"

"You found out less than an hour after I did," MacGyver reminded him, calmly.

"So? I ask! What's baby's name?" Dennis continued, stomping. "You still don't tell me!"

"We haven't decided yet. "

"I name baby!" Dennis argued, sassily. "I find pretty name. Amanda! Is pretty name, Daddy!"

"Yes, Amanda is a pretty name," MacGyver agreed. "But, you can't just name her, without asking or talking to us."

Dennis sat down on the ground, pulling his knees to his chest and hiding his face in his hands. He cried violently, drawing deep, painful breaths.

"Oh, darling," Nasha sighed, leaning down as best she could to touch his shoulder. "Come here. Come talk to me."

Dennis obeyed, clambering awkwardly into Nasha's lap. He leaned against her, his head on her shoulder.

"Come on. Tell us what's wrong."

"Nobody listen to me," Dennis complained, his crying subsiding a bit.

"I'm listening to you," Nasha comforted.

"No! Mommy!" Dennis cried, sitting up, so he could look at her. "Two strangers in the house! Billy is inside."

"We know, darling."

"No, I know, Mommy! I try to say careful."

"We are being careful, Baby 'doc," Jack promised.

"Kissing is not careful!" Dennis yelled, sobbing. "I know strangers. But. Nobody listens to little Dennises."

"But, we are listening, Dennis," MacGyver insisted, gently.

Billy came back out and sat next to Riley.

"What's going on?"

"You are stranger and now," Dennis sobbed, his tears increasing again. "Daddy took away her name! Sister baby not Amanda. She's not got a name! She not come see me!"

"He's really not blaming you," Riley promised. "He's just having a bad day."

"Is very bad!" Dennis agreed, rubbing at his eyes. "No Amanda. Sister baby has no name. She not come see me. What are you doing in there?!"

He gazed in frustration at Nasha's baby bump, then frowned at the others. Some tried to hide it, but none of them could help laughing a bit.

"My poor darling," Nasha laughed sadly, hugging Dennis tenderly. "She's growing. She's getting big and strong."

"I'm growing and I'm here!" Dennis argued. "I be big and strong for her."

"She'll be here soon. It's all right."

Dennis wrapped his arms around Nasha's shoulders, crying into her shoulder.

"I'm sad!" Dennis told her.

"What do we do to help him?" Leanna asked, bewildered and concerned.

"Give him a moment or two," MacGyver said, shrugging, feeling a bit helpless himself.

Nasha heard the front door open and close, then gently pulled Dennis away, so she could look at him. She wiped the tears from his cheeks and smiled.

"Cassian is home. Why don't you go tell him what's happening and have him help you get Bark. Then you both can come out here. Okay?"

"Yeah, I tell Cassian. I can have Bark?"

"Yes, he should be done."

"What's up with Bark?" Bozer asked, realizing he hadn't seen the toy, normally never far from Dennis, all day.

"Bark hadta have bath," Dennis said, sadly. "He got dirty."

Dennis ran off to greet Cassian, wanting to tell him all about Billy. Nasha watched him go and sighed.

"Angus. Do you have any names picked out, that you're seriously considering?"

"Not really. I'm still arguing with my Dad. He wants to name her Innes, after my mom and...I just don't want to."

"Too many memories?" Bozer asked, sympathetically.

"Well, that and I don't want her getting harassed in middle school for having a Scottish name most kids here haven't heard before," MacGyver admitted, dryly, drawing a laugh from his friends. "How about you, Nasha?"

"No, I've considered and rejected over a dozen names and...frankly, the thought of picking one exhausts me," she admitted. "I was hoping you would handle that part."

"All I've done is find another thing to bicker with my Dad about."

Jack snickered.

"What?" MacGyver asked, defensively.

"You're gonna name her Amanda."

"Well, Amanda Innes is rather pretty," Leanna offered.

"I don't think that would satisfy Dad, though."

"Tough," Matty said, flatly. "Having Innes as a middle name honors your mother, but won't get her teased and Dennis in fights. She can just neglect to mention having a middle name."

"Amanda Innes would solve the problem and it is pretty," Nasha agreed.

MacGyver laughed, shaking his head in bemusement.

"Yeah, okay. I have no real objection. At least, we've talked about it, as adults and her parents. Amanda Innes MacGyver, then?"

"Amanda Innes MacGyver," Nasha agreed.

"Hi, guys," Cassian greeted, coming onto the patio with Dennis in tow.

Dennis had one hand clutching Cassian's and the other holding tightly to Bark.

"Hi, Cassian. These are our friends, Mama and Billy Colton," MacGyver introduced.

"Oh, you're Riley's boyfriend," Cassian said warmly, letting go of Dennis and walking over to shake Billy's hand.

"That I am. It's good to meet you, Cassian. Riley's mentioned you a few times," Billy said, accepting the shake.

Dennis sniffled, unhappy at Cassian's friendly carelessness.

"Hello, Cassian. I'm Mama Colton."

"It's nice to meet you."

"Dennis, come here, darling," Nasha told him. "We need to talk."

Dennis walked over and climbed back onto her lap. Cassian frowned, walking over and sitting next to MacGyver.

"Yeah, Mommy?"

"First of all, your daddy and I talked about it and we've chosen a name for your sister. We're going to name her Amanda Innes MacGyver."

"AMANDA!" Dennis shouted joyfully. "Amanda Inis?"

"In-nehs," Nasha pronounced carefully. "That was the name of your daddy's mommy."

"Where's Daddy's mommy?"

"She died, when I was younger than Cassian," MacGyver explained.

"Oh," Dennis said, at a loss for words.

"You really need to trust Mom and Dad more," Cassian scolded gently.

"I trust!" Dennis protested, stung.

"Speaking of, we have something else to discuss and you aren't going to like this."

"Okay," Dennis said, in a small voice.

"I know you love Riley. Do you trust her?"

"Trust Riley?" Dennis repeated, then nodded. "Yeah."

"Do you think she would let someone hurt you or Cassian?"

"No," Dennis said, softly, shaking his head.

"Do you think your daddy or I would let someone hurt you?"

"No."

"What do you think your daddy would do, if someone tried to hurt you?"

"Put 'em in jail?"

"Only after I beat them up a bit first," Jack told him.

"Don't give timeout, please, Aunt Matty!" Dennis begged, hurriedly.

"Oh, I won't. Not for that," Matty assured him, smirking.

"Billy and Mama wouldn't be here, if we didn't trust them to be kind to you," MacGyver told Dennis. "You need to be kind, too."

"Kind, not careful?" Dennis asked anxiously.

"You can be both," Mama suggested. "Trust me, there were times, when Billy was your size, that I wished he'd be a bit more careful. He didn't know what a stranger was."

"You know strangers?" Dennis asked, taking a red fuzzy stick and twisting it into a circle.

"I've met a fair few."

"Good or bad?"

"Some of both. Mostly good, though. Most of them aren't any trouble."

"They trouble me."

"I can see that, but how're you gonna make new friends, if you don't meet new people?"

"I dunno."

"There's nothing better in this world than friends and family."

"Yeah, but they don't stay. They go work. They go school. None just stay here with me."

"Well, you're getting to be a pretty big boy. You'll be going to school soon. And, someday, you're going to be a working man."

"Oh, no, I'm not!" Dennis said, astonished, wrapping a blue fuzzy stick around the red one. "I gonna stay small."

"You are?" Mama asked, laughing lightly.

"Yeah, I stay with Mommy and Daddy and not bite," Dennis assured her, holding his palm out, waving his hand in denial.

"Well, I hope you wouldn't bite."

"Oh, I did bite," Dennis said, nodding.

"Well, you are a firecracker. Who'd you bite?"

"A bad boy what's mean to my Cassian."

"He was mean to your big brother, huh?"

"Very mean," Dennis emphasized. "Bad boys not allowed to hurt Cassian!"

Dennis slammed his fist into his hand, frowning sternly around.

"Calm down, Baby 'doc," Jack soothed. "No one's gonna hurt Cassian."

"You got a timeout for biting Ryan," MacGyver reminded him.

"There's better things to do, than bite," Mama added.

"Yeah, Daddy says that," Dennis agreed, smiling a bit. "He says tell adult!"

"That's pretty," Mama said, gesturing at the fuzzy sticks Dennis was working on. "What are you making?"

"Ummmm, I make Leanna bracelet!" Dennis decided, running it over to her.

"Aw, thank you. It's beautiful!" Leanna told him, putting it on.

"Welcome!"

"Where'd you learn to make pretty things like that?" Mama asked.

"I watch Daddy."

"You play with fuzzy sticks too?" Billy teased.

"Paperclips, actually," MacGyver corrected, shrugging.

"I show you! I have some Daddy's pretties!" Dennis said, running off into the house.

"Dennis! You can't lift the shelf in the toy box by yourself," Cassian called out, running after him.

"Well, that provides me an opportunity," Mama announced.

"Opportunity for what?"

"Look. I know you're good people. You wouldn't do anything to that boy," Mama assured them. "Billy says he's adopted. Do you know who his birth parents were?"

"No, we don't," MacGyver admitted, after a brief hesitation.

"I didn't think so. But, if you ever do find out, I want to know who did what to that baby," Mama said sharply.

"It's a long, complicated story, Mama."

"It's also classified," Jack added.

"You mean if we knew anything it would be classified," MacGyver corrected, dryly. "But, Mama, when we know something we can tell you, we will."

Dennis ran back in and dumped a pile of metal on the seat beside Mama.

"I can not believe you have all of those," MacGyver told him, astonished.

"He squirrels them away at the bottom of his toy box," Cassian explained. "He sometimes plays with them."

"Plays how?" Nasha asked, looking at the metal figure of a cowboy hat that Dennis was admiring.

"He makes them characters in stories," Cassian said, shrugging.

"You've certainly got some talent," Mama said, picking up a metal flower.

"Daddy makes lots of pretties," Dennis agreed. "You make pretties?"

"I make pretty good food."

"Pretty good nothing. Her buttermilk pie is the best thing," Jack retorted.

"Milk pie?" Dennis asked, confused.

"Buttermilk. That's its own thing, sweetie."

"Oh. Okay. I like pie."

Riley smirked a bit, finally relaxing. If Mama understanding strangers didn't win Dennis over, she knew the pie would. The rest of the family she knew would be an easy sell. Mission accomplished.

November 23. Saturday. 8 A.M.

MacGyver took one of his sweaters from the dryer and slipped it on, enjoying the encompassing warmth. He had forgotten how cold eastern winters, this far up north, could be. James had arranged a small, two-week vacation, that would see them all home just in time for Thanksgiving. They had flown to Vermont on the first day and settled into a rented cabin. On the second, they had headed to Hershey, Pennsylvania and toured that area for a couple of days, before coming back here. James had taken great delight in taking the boys to the Hershey Museum. They had enough chocolate to last a year now and ten days left of their vacation. MacGyver smiled happily, pleased his dad had kept his promise and bonded deeply with the boys.

MacGyver emptied the rest of the dryer into a laundry basket and headed upstairs to the bedrooms. At the top of the stairs, he found Cassian, wearing pajamas and a robe, leaning against the railing, looking down at the living room.

"Hey..." he started, but Cassian quickly hushed him, with his finger on his lips.

"He's gonna start again in a minute. He's done this three times now," Cassian whispered, waving MacGyver over.

Looking down, MacGyver saw Dennis leaning against the window, dressed only in a pair of Superman underwear. He was bouncing up and down, watching happily, as snow drifted down. Bark was laying on the windowsill, his face turned to the outside.

"Snow again! And snow means cold! I am cold. Very, very cold," Dennis told himself cheerfully. "I'm gonna turn blue and then! "

Dennis spun away from the window and began dancing around the living room, barely avoiding the furniture, laughing.

"Fro-sty the Dennis! Was a frozen me, me, me! With his cold, cold toes and my but-ton nose," Dennis sang, tapping his nose and giggling, "and my eyes made out of...EYES!"

Dennis stopped dancing and took on a scolding pose.

"JUST EYES! I've been a pretty good boy, Santa! You don't gotta turn my eyes into coal."

MacGyver laughed hard, shooting Cassian a look of wry disbelief. Cassian shook his head, face-palming.

"Dad. He's cray-cray. My only blood relative is kinda bonkers."

"He's three," MacGyver defended, unable to stop laughing.

"He's almost four."

"Not for another four months. We just gotta hope he outgrows certain things," MacGyver said, swallowing back his chuckles. "I better go get him dressed."

MacGyver went back downstairs, glad the clothes were still very warm from the dryer. He found Dennis dancing again, still singing Frosty, though he had moved on to the next verse.

"Good morning, Frosty," MacGyver announced, setting the laundry down in front of a chair.

"Hi, Daddy! Guess what!"

"Ah, you plan on becoming the new Frosty," MacGyver said, picking Dennis up, then Bark.

"You guessed!" Dennis cried happily, clapping.

"Yeah, well, I'm afraid that's one plot I have to put an end to," MacGyver said with exaggerated regret, sitting in the chair with Dennis in front of him.

"End?"

"Mmhmm. I can't just let you freeze and become a snowman," MacGyver explained, setting Dennis on the arm of the chair. "It's kinda bad parenting."

"Well, you gotta," Dennis said heartily, smiling, then pointed out the window. "See? Snow! Snow is cold and makes me cold. I'm Frosty!"

"Well, fortunately, I have a secret weapon to fight off the Frosty invasion."

"You gonna use it on me?!" Dennis said with an amazed laugh. "What?"

MacGyver reached into the laundry basket and pulled out a pair of socks. Smirking, he took one of Dennis' feet and slipped a sock onto it.

"Ahhh," Dennis exclaimed, wiggling. "Warm and snuggly on my toes!"

"Yup. Now the other one," MacGyver agreed, putting the second sock on Dennis. "Is your underwear clean?"

"Yeah."

"What did you wear yesterday?"

"Batman."

"Okay," MacGyver said, slipping a thick sweater over Dennis' head.

Dennis hugged himself, enjoying the sadly fading heat of the shirt.

"But, Daddy?"

"Yeah?" MacGyver said, as he put a pair of jeans on Dennis' legs.

"I would be a very good Frosty."

"You would be an excellent Frosty," MacGyver agreed. "Can you do me a favor, though?"

"Mmmm, what?"

"Can you please find your own demise a little less hilarious?"

"Mise? My mise? I don't know that," Dennis said, confused.

"Demise. Doom. Freezing and turning blue!" MacGyver clarified, dryly.

"Dad-dy!" Dennis sang, leaning over so their noses almost touched.

"Yeah?" MacGyver asked warily.

"I'm funny!" Dennis declared, giggling, staring gleefully into MacGyver's eyes.

"Dennis," MacGyver groaned, protesting, his eyes squeezing shut, even as an involuntary laugh bubbled out of him. "You think you're funny?"

"Yeah, I'm funny," Dennis affirmed.

MacGyver playfully snatched Dennis up and began tickling his ribs.

"I'll show you funny, you little stinker!" MacGyver teased.

Dennis writhed and kicked, laughing helplessly. Grinning, MacGyver stopped tickling Dennis and cuddled him.

"Y'know what?

"What, Daddy?" Dennis got out, as his giggles subsided.

"You have your moments," MacGyver admitted, kissing Dennis' cheek.

"M'good!" Dennis boasted, grinning brightly.

"How about pah-pop? Did he do good bringing us here?"

"Yeah. I got lotsa chocolate!"

"Yeah, well, you're not getting any before breakfast. After breakfast, we'll get bundled up and go play in all that cold, cold snow. Sound good?"

"Play in snow?" Dennis asked, hesitating. "Yeah?"

"Doesn't that sound fun?" MacGyver asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, that is fun," Dennis agreed. "I can make Frosty."

"But?"

"But, um," Dennis said, frowning, then shrugged. "I dunno."

MacGyver took a quiet breath, realizing this was the first real snow Dennis had seen, since becoming Dennis. Of course, he was nervous, even if he had no idea why. MacGyver forced himself to smile gently.

"It's safe, Dennis," MacGyver assured him.

"Um, you check first?"

"Yeah, I'll check it out. I promise. It'll be okay."

"Bark and me love you," Dennis said, bopping MacGyver in the nose with Bark.

"If Bark loves me, why does he keep head-butting me?" MacGyver asked, dryly, chuckling and moving his head away.

"Because he's a fox," Dennis said, stating the obvious.

"Right, of course! Good point."

December 18th, 2019 4 P.M.

Cassian peered through the front door's keyhole, to see who had knocked. On their porch stood a middle-aged man and woman. The woman had greying brown hair that was still a beautiful mass of curls and warm brown eyes surrounded by laugh lines. In her hands she held a covered, aluminum foil pan. Standing next to her was a tall, hefty man, his hazel eyes placid and calm. Dennis ran into the hallway, behind him.

"Who is it?"

"I don't know. I've never seen them before."

"Strangers? Good or bad?"

"I have no idea. Probably good. Let's find out," Cassian said, opening the door a crack. "Hello?"

"Hi there! Can we speak to your mom or dad?"

"Yeah. We have a mommy and daddy," Dennis agreed. "And Uncle Jack and Aunt Matty..."

"Dennis!" Cassian said, exasperated. "Go get Dad."

Once Dennis had run off, Cassian turned back to the Lamberts.

"Would you like to come in?"

"Oh, thank you, yes," Rosa agreed, coming in with Michael.

"Sure," Cassian said agreeably. "Ignore my little brother. He's weird about people he doesn't know."

"Well, that's pretty normal for a boy his age," Rosa said, laughing.

MacGyver came into the hallway, holding Dennis' hand. Dennis held Bark tightly.

"Hi. I'm Angus MacGvyer," he told them, shaking their hands.

"It's good to meet you. I'm Rosa and this is my husband, Michael Lambert. We just moved into the house on the right, across the street from you."

"Oh, the Peterson's old place, yes," MacGyver said. "Welcome to the neighborhood. These are my sons, Cassian and Dennis. Um. We have some other visitors, so if you have time, you're welcome to join us."

"Oh, if you have company, we don't want to intrude," Michael said, doubtfully.

"No, it's just some close friends of ours, family really. You're welcome to join us."

"Well, if you're sure, we'd enjoy getting to know you," Rosa said.

"Come on out. We're on the patio," MacGyver said, leading the way.

Outside, Rosa sat the foil pan on the table next to the fire pit, as MacGyver began introductions.

"Rosa, Michael, this is Matty, Jack, and my wife, Nasha. Guys, these are our new neighbors, Michael and Rosa Lambert."

"What is that?" Dennis asked, pointing at the foil pan, interrupting the exchanges of greetings, as Rosa and Michael took seats around the fire pit.

"Those are raisin spice drops I brought to give you and your family," Rosa told him kindly.

"Drops?" Dennis asked, confused.

"Cookies. Do you like raisin spice cookies?"

Dennis stared intently at her for a couple of beats, then shrugged.

"I don't know," he said frankly.

"Oh, okay," Rosa said, laughing a bit. "Well, maybe your mom and dad will let you try one."

"Sure, go ahead," MacGyver agreed, taking the foil off one corner of the pan.

He handed one cookie to Dennis and a couple to Cassian. Dennis examined the cookie, turning it over and over in his hand. He poked at the icing on top of the cookie.

"What's the white?"

"That's a vanilla glaze."

"Go ahead and try it, Baby 'doc," Jack prodded, chuckling.

"I am!" Dennis protested, then took a huge bite.

"Is that good?" Cassian asked, not considering that Dennis' mouth was full.

Dennis nodded, eagerly, swallowing.

"More please!" he said, holding his cookie-less hand out to MacGyver.

"Say thank you to Rosa," MacGyver instructed.

"Thank you," both boys told her.

MacGyver gave another cookie to Dennis, then passed the pan around to the others.

"Moving right before Christmas must be rough," Jack observed.

"It is," Rosa admitted, "but our youngest, Michelle, is off at college and, frankly, we didn't want to spend another winter in Montana."

"Oh, what part of Montana are you from?" Nasha asked.

"Glasgow. We moved there just after we got married, thirty years ago."

"Wow, Los Angeles is going to be a huge change, then," Matty predicted.

"Sure, but my brother and his family are here and I love the weather," Michael added.

"Is your tree up?" Dennis asked.

"No, we're not going to decorate this year. We'll just enjoy other people's decorations," Michael said, laughing. "There's too much unpacking to do."

"Well, you gotta," Dennis told him.

"Dennis! That's not nice, darling," Nasha scolded.

"But, Mommy, they'll miss Santa!" Dennis insisted.

"I'm sure Santa will understand that they were working hard," MacGyver said, firmly.

"Besides, Santa has so many wonderful, little children to take care of. He doesn't need to worry about older people, like us," Rosa said, laughing.

"Uh uh!" Dennis said, indignantly. "Santa loves everyone. He loves adults and children and babies. He loves strangers and new people that's not really strangers. Everyone!"

"Well, you're right, he does," Rosa conceded.

"We're spending Christmas with my brother and he'll have decorations," Michael soothed.

"Does that count, Daddy?"

"I'm sure it does."

Dennis didn't look convinced, but shrugged, sitting on the floor with Bark. Turning Bark to face him, Dennis began whispering conspiratorially.

"Santa might know. Santa knows stuffs. But, no tree? It's sad with no tree. It's make this little Dennis sad. It makes you sad, too, Bark. Yeah. Santa loves old peoples? But, old peoples don't do stockings. Santa likes stockings. Stockings have candy and toys and smelly stuffs. Brother has dec'rations, but does brother help Santa. I don't know, Bark."

"What are you and Bark talking about?" MacGyver asked, trying not to sound wary.

"Um. We talk about Christmas and seeing Santa and...toys."

"Yeah, okay," MacGyver said, not really believing him.

"What toys do you want for Christmas, Dennis?" Michael asked.

"I don't want toys. I want my sister baby, Amanda."

"At this point, I agree with him," Nasha admitted, laughing. "I'm ready for her to arrive."

"I don't think Santa can help with that, buddy," Jack said, laughing.

"He can try," Dennis argued. "Santa can talk to babies."

"Wow, that's asking for a lot of help from Santa," Matty warned him.

"Santa is good helper, Aunt Matty!"

"Yes, he is a good helper," Matty agreed.

"Santa is good helper," Dennis whispered to Bark. "I'm good helper and you help me. Yeah. We maybe can help. No tree. No pretties out? Sad."

Dennis waited a bit for the adults to start talking, then went inside. Probably they would think he was going potty, but he knew he didn't have much time. Fortunately, he was better at finding, than Mommy and Daddy were at hiding things. He hadn't peeked! Dennis knew Christmas was supposed to be a surprise. But, he knew where certain goodies were being stashed, oh yes. First, though, he had to change clothes.

MacGyver watched Dennis leave, frowning lightly. Well, he was probably just going to the bathroom. Probably. He'd been better, since meeting the Coltons, but Dennis was still wary of strangers and the Lamberts were new to everyone. MacGyver sighed. Dennis might be hiding in his room. MacGyver decided to give him a little while to calm down, before going to look for him.

A little while later, MacGyver saw Dennis through the patio doors, dragging his red wagon. He stopped just outside the doors and wrestled with the knob, before giving up.

"HO HO HO!" he cried out.

MacGyver walked over and opened the door, then bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. He didn't want to laugh at Dennis' outfit. Dennis was wearing a pair of brown pants, with a black leather belt cinched tightly over a red sweater. On his feet were a pair of brown boots...that he had shoved over a pair of small Christmas stockings, reaching halfway up his thighs. He had a Santa hat on and wore a beard and mustache created from white and gray fuzzy sticks. His red wagon was half full of candy and small gifts that he had placed bows on.

"Excuse me, please," Dennis said, cheerfully, struggling to pull his wagon onto the patio.

"Um, sure," MacGyver said, moving out of the way and giving the back of the wagon a small push.

"HO HO HO!" Dennis said again, triumphantly. "I need to give presents a little bit early. For new peoples, without time for pretties."

Everyone stared at him, their astonishment thankfully hiding their amusement.

"Well, hello, Santa. That's very nice of you," Matty said, recovering first.

"Hi, yes," Dennis said, rummaging through the wagon. "First are these..."

Dennis grabbed a chocolate orange and a Captain America tin gift box, with a cloth wallet and a necklace pendant inside.

"These are for you," Dennis said, holding them up to MacGyver.

"Thank you," MacGyver said, smiling proudly down at his youngest son.

"Welcome. Now, these ones are for Jack," Dennis announced, going through his wagon and picking out a giant candy cane, then a Hulk bandana set, with rubber bracelets.

Dennis handed the chosen items to Jack, who gave him a big grin.

"Thanks, Santa. Can I wear them now?"

"Yeah, you can wear them," Dennis encouraged.

"Cool," Jack said, putting on two of the bracelets, getting a faintly horrified look from Rosa.

"Jack," Matty hissed, rolling her eyes.

"These are for you, Matty," Dennis told her, happily, grabbing a box of chocolate truffles.

Matty took the chocolates, her eyes widening. The chocolates were in a black and gold box, with a striped bow tying it together. The company name, Valhrona, was elegantly missing from the box itself, but proudly displayed on the gift tag attached to the bow. Matty set the box carefully next to her, smiling a bit ruefully.

"Thank you, Santa."

"Welcome!"

Dennis handed Cassian a box of chocolate covered cherries and a gift set of metal puzzle games. Next to Cassian, he placed a giant candy cane, a coloring book, and a yo-yo. He then handed Nasha a gift set of Chantilly scented body lotion and shower gel.
He handed them to her, then leaned his face close to her baby bump, whispering loudly.

"Amanda! If you come by Christmas, Santa will bring you goodies, too. I promise! I love you."

Dennis sneakily placed a kiss on his sister baby, then moved hastily away. He dragged the wagon back to Jack, who sat next to Rosa and Michael. The wagon held some green candles of different sizes, Christmas themed refrigerator magnets, and three small candle holders, shaped like lanterns, with Christmas scenes on the glass panes. There were two Christmas stockings next to them, one holding a box of chocolate-covered blueberries. The other held a few candy canes. Dennis looked from the last of the gifts to the Lamberts and shrank back.

"You okay, Santa?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, yeah!" Dennis assured him. "Um. Jack? You can be elf please and give these to them."

"Sure, Santa, I can help you out," Jack agreed, winking at him. "Who gets the blueberries?"

"Her, please," Dennis said, then turned back to Rosa, as Jack handed her and Michael the gifts. "You don't need tree, but these are stockings and pretties you can just put on places."

"Thank you, Santa," Rosa said gently. "That's very kind."

"Yeah. Um," Dennis said, backing away with his wagon. "I gotta go now. Lots to do at the North Pole! Um, tell Dennis I can be back Christmas Eve!"

MacGyver opened the door again, letting Dennis flee through it. He closed the door and finally released the laughter he'd kept back. It set off a wave of laughter in the others.

"Oh, he's precious," Rosa gasped. "What a sweet boy!"

"Even if he had to rope Jack into handing us stuff," Michael snickered.

"Oh, believe me, we're proud of him," Nasha countered. "That he even wanted to give you anything is progress! He's usually very cold towards strangers at first."

"He does mean well, though," Matty admitted. "You guys are doing an awesome job with him."

"Where would you like us to put these things?" Rosa asked.

"Keep them," MacGyver said, firmly. "Whatever he gave you guys is yours."

"Um, Mac, these chocolates..." Matty protested.

"Are yours," Nasha insisted.

"Are you sure?" Rosa asked, hesitantly.

"Positive," MacGyver told her. "Believe me, we have our reasons. We go to great lengths to encourage empathy and generosity in Dennis. The stuff can be replaced."

"Yeah, besides, imagine how hurt the kid would be, if he found out we didn't accept the stuff," Jack pointed out.

"We definitely don't want that," MacGyver agreed.

"Well, if you're certain, thank you."

Dennis soon came back, dressed in his usual clothes and clutching Bark.

"I'm back!" he announced.

"Hey there, Baby 'doc," Jack greeted. "Where've ya been?"

"Oh, I went potty and, um, I was in my room with Bark."

"Well, that's too bad. You missed Santa Claus," MacGyver teased.

Dennis put on a look of exaggerated surprise.

"I missed Santa?" he asked, with astonished innocence, but failing to look even remotely upset.

"Yeah, but he said he'll be back on Christmas Eve," MacGyver said soothingly. "He left you some candy canes and a present, though."

"Oh, yummy!" Dennis proclaimed, before nodding wisely. "Yeah, I can see him Christmas Eve. That is okay."

"Come here a minute," MacGyver said, holding out his hands.

Dennis came over, letting MacGyver pick him up. MacGyver placed a sound kiss on Dennis' cheek, smiling knowingly at him.

"You're a great guy," MacGyver told him.

Dennis couldn't help smiling widely. He put his arms around his daddy's neck, hugging tight. He wasn't surprised that his daddy had seen through the Santa disguise. Daddy always knew everything. It was one reason Dennis loved him. All Dennis had to do was be a good helper for Daddy...and Santa, too, of course.

December 31st, 2019 12 P.M.

Nasha and Dennis sat side by side at the kitchen table. She shifted slightly, as a wave of pain went through her abdomen. She suspected it was a contraction, but she didn't want to get her hopes up. So, she focused on Dennis and their activity. Nasha had filled small bowls with different shapes and sizes of dried pasta. There was a small stack of construction paper close to hand and they both had glue sticks to use. Dennis rubbed a bit of glue onto his piece of orange paper and stuck a bowtie noodle on it.

"This is pretty, Mommy. It's all the same color, though," Dennis complained.

"It won't be, darling. We're going to paint them later, but we have to wait for the glue to dry."

"Why?"

"Because, if we don't, the paint will thin out the glue and the pasta won't stick."

"The pasta won't stick? If the glue gets more wet?"

"Nope. The pasta would fall off."

"That's not good."

"No," Nasha agreed, then a gave a surprised grunt, feeling moisture on her legs.

"Mommy, you peed!" Dennis gasped, staring at her lap.

"Oh, that's not pee, darling."

"It looks like pee. It came out your..."

"I know, I know. It's okay. This is a good thing," Nasha assured him, with a small laugh.

"You're supposed to pee in the potty, Mommy."

"Darling, I'm in labor."

"I don't know that."

"It means, I'm getting ready to give birth," Nasha said, getting up.

"Birth? Amanda?!" Dennis cried, excited.

"Yes, your sister is finally ready to come out," Nasha agreed. "Darling, can you please stay right here? Keep playing with the pasta and glue. I'm going to take a very quick shower and call your daddy. Okay?"

"Yes, Mommy. I won't move. Not one bit!" Dennis promised, then added, "Well, just across from the yuck."

"Yes, of course," Nasha said, laughing. "I won't be long."

Nasha kept her word, returning very soon. Fortunately, Dennis was still at the table, gluing pasta to paper. He kept quiet, seeing her talking on her cell phone. She hung up and smiled brightly at him.

"Your daddy is on his way, then we'll be going to the hospital."

Nasha quickly cleaned up the mess from her water breaking, then gathered up a backpack of toys and snacks for Dennis to have at the hospital. She took it into the kitchen and laid it on the table.

"Dennis, where's Bark?" she asked.

"I'm sitting on him."

"Okay. Don't forget to bring him, darling. We won't be able to come back."

"I would never forget Bark, Mommy," Dennis protested.

"Do you still have your shoes on?" Nasha asked, trying to make sure nothing was forgotten.

"Yep!"

They heard the door open and Dennis ran to meet MacGyver. Jack came in, too, grinning broadly.

"Hey, Baby 'doc! You ready to go?"

"Yeah! I've been ready!"

"For months," MacGyver agreed wryly. "Where's your mommy?"

"In the kitchen. She had to clean some yuck!"

MacGyver went into the kitchen and found Nasha sitting in a chair, riding out a contraction. She smiled lovingly up at him.

"How are you doing?" MacGyver asked, coming over to her and sitting next to her.

"Good, so far. I've got Dennis' stuff packed. My bags just need taken out."

MacGyver grinned, leaning over and kissing her deeply. Nasha gave a contented sigh, leaning into him.

"I love you," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her.

"I love you, too. Are you ready to be a daddy again?"

"I'm just as impatient as Dennis. I just hide it better."

They laughed, taking another few moments to cuddle, celebrating quietly together.

"Mommy! Daddy! Are you coming?!" Dennis demanded, running into the kitchen. "We gotta go!"

Jack followed close behind, laughing.

"I've got Nasha's bags in the Jeep. We're ready, when you are."

"Yeah, let's go get my sister baby!" Dennis insisted.

"All right, all right," MacGyver conceded, grinning. "We're coming. Jack, if you'll drive, I'm going to make some phone calls."

"Sure thing."

The next half hour passed in a blur, a confused one for Dennis. Once they got to the hospital, his mommy went away with a lady, leaving him, Daddy, and Jack in a boring room full of chairs. They all sat down, but Dennis didn't want to sit. He was bored and excited, all at once. A short time later, Mommy came back and the lady led them to another room.

Dennis liked this room a lot better. It was basically a large bedroom, but with a comfortable couch, stuffed armchair, and a rocking chair. The bed was funny, with rounded plastic pieces on each side, near the bottom and railings near the head. There were wooden cabinets on each side of the bed, with lots of drawers and doors. Dennis wanted to explore them, but Daddy told him no.

"Where's Mommy now?" Dennis asked, not seeing her.

"She's in the bathroom, changing her clothes," MacGyver explained.

"Why?"

"She has to wear a hospital gown, because regular clothes would get in the way."

"Why?"

"They're too tight and cover the wrong areas."

"Is Amanda almost here? When can I see her?"

"Probably not for a few more hours. Why don't you play with your toys for a while?"

"Okay," Dennis said, sighing.

"Now, remember. You can only stay in here with me and your mommy, until the actual birth starts. Then, Jack will take you and Cassian out into the waiting room."

"When?"

"We'll let you know. Mommy's stomach pains will be closer together and she'll start pushing. Just remember, everything is going fine. Don't worry, if she seems to hurt."

"I remember, Daddy."

3:15 P.M.

"Hey, look who's here," Jack announced, coming back into Nasha's birthing suite.

"Cassian!" Dennis cried out, abandoning his toys for his brother.

"Hi, Dennis," Cassian greeted, then went over to Nasha, giving her a hug. "Hi, Mom. You doing good?"

"So far. We're progressing smoothly. It might be a few more hours, but I think the birth will happen tonight."

"Mommy has pain, but then she does breathing," Dennis told him.

"Yeah, I know," Cassian said, amused.

They heard a knock on the door, then Matty entered, looking a bit grim.

"Hey, Matty," Jack greeted. "What's up?"

"A mission, I'm afraid. I need you at the Phoenix. Riley and Bozer are already there."

"Oh, crap. Jack, do you think Diane could come watch the boys?" MacGyver asked.

"She's out of town," Jack fumed, grimacing.

"So's my dad," MacGyver groaned.

"It's okay," Dennis said. "We'll stay right here with Mommy and Daddy!"

"We can't stay here during the birth," Cassian scorned quietly.

"Well, now, we gotta," Dennis argued, smugly.

"Actually, if Mac agrees, I have a solution," Matty told him.

"What solution?" Mac asked.

"I spoke with Robbie Jenkins and he's willing to come sit with the boys."

Mac thought for a moment. He didn't know Robbie very well, but knew he was a good agent. They'd eaten lunch together in the cafeteria a few times, trading work stories. He knew the man was even-tempered and kind. MacGyver nodded.

"All right, that works," he agreed.

"I'll call him and stay, until he gets here," Matty said, nodding.

Matty made the call and Robbie showed up a short time later. Dennis planted himself just inside the labor room's doors, staring hard at Robbie.

"You're leaving me and my Cassian with a stranger?" Dennis asked, his hands on his hips.

"Dennis," MacGyver said, firmly. "Remember what we said about trusting us? I know Robbie. He works with us at the Phoenix."

"Okay," Dennis said with unusual meekness.

"Robbie is one of my agents," Matty added. "Besides, if it weren't for Robbie, you wouldn't have something you love very much."

"What thing?" Dennis asked, confused.

"Bark. Robbie made Bark."

Dennis gaped at her.

"My Bark? You made him?!" he asked Robbie.

"Is that what you named that blanket I gave to Matty?"

"This?" Dennis said, running over to the couch, then bringing Bark back, holding it up for Robbie to see. "This is my Bark!"

"Oh, yeah. That's him," Robbie agreed.

Dennis shocked everyone by flinging himself at Robbie, wrapping his arms around his waist in a tight hug.

"Thank you! I love Bark so MUCH!"

"So, can he watch you and Cassian?" Matty asked, amused.

"Yeah, Agent Robbie can watch us."

"So, I can go say hello to your mom now?" Robbie teased.

"Yeah, you should say hi."

Robbie approached Nasha, smiling ruefully.

"Hello, ma'am. Congratulations."

"It's Nasha, please. It's good to meet you, um..."

"Robbie, please. It's good to meet you, too, Nasha."

"Thank you for helping us. I don't think it will be much longer, but you never know. We just want the boys here for this, as much as possible."

"Oh, that's all right. I owe Matty more than one and Mac's a good guy."

"Curious?"

"A little," Robbie said, cheerfully. "No offense. It's just..."

"It's all right. I would be, too," Nasha assured him.

5:50 P.M.

The nurse stepped away from Nasha and pulled back the privacy screen from around her bed.

"All right," the nurse announced. "She's fully dilated. Anyone who's not going to stay for the actual birth needs to go to the waiting room."

"That's us," Robbie said, picking up Dennis' backpack.

"I'll let you know, as soon as the birth is over and you can come in," MacGyver promised the boys, smiling warmly.

"NO!" Dennis announced, crossly. "I wanna stay with Mommy! I can sit right here. I won't even move!"

"Dennis, we talked about this," MacGyver said, firmly. "You have to go out."

"Daddy, I wanna see!"

"Dennis," Cassian sighed.

"Go on, Cassian, we'll handle this," MacGyver told him, waiting for him to leave.

"Please, Daddy?"

"I'm sorry, but no. I need you to help us, by listening. We brought Robbie here to watch you, during this part."

"You get to stay!"

"Everyone who will be in here has a job to do," MacGyver said kindly, kneeling down to speak with Dennis eye to eye.

"You don't work here."

"No, but I still have a job. My job is to help Mommy remember to breathe in that special way that helps the baby, so the doctor can focus on the birth."

"I can't help? I'm a good helper!"

"Yes, you are, but we don't have a job to give you. Now, come on. Be helpful to us and go outside. Keep Cassian company."

Dennis whimpered, looking around indecisively.

"I'll tell you what," Robbie said. "If you come to the waiting room, I'll show you how to make things like Bark."

"You can show me that?"

"I can try."

"Um. Okay. You promise, Daddy? You'll say when my sister baby is here?"

"I promise, as soon as the birth is over," MacGyver assured him.

Dennis let Robbie lead him to the waiting room.

"How did you make Bark?" Dennis asked, settling into a chair.

"Let me get my stuff," Robbie said, going to the nearby check-in area.

The attending aide gave Robbie his tote and he carried it over to Dennis and Cassian. He pulled out a small work bag and a couple of skeins of yarn.

"Are those more Barks?" Dennis asked, crowding up against the tote.

"More blankets, yes. Do you want to see?"

Robbie pulled out a couple of blankets, including a bunny done in pink and a soft tan. Dennis grabbed it, his eyes wide.

"A bunny! Robbie, I want this!"

"You already have Bark," Cassian said, rolling his eyes.

"Not for me! For Amanda!"

"Dennis, he probably sells these. They're probably, like, forty or fifty bucks!"

"I don't have that..."

"No."

"...but Daddy might. I'll be back!"

"Dennis, no!" Robbie cried, standing, but he wasn't fast enough to grab Dennis.

Dennis burst back into the birthing suite. MacGyver came back over, rolling his eyes.

"Dennis, you have to stay out there!"

"Yeah, but, Daddy, I need forty or fifty bucks!"

MacGyver came to an abrupt halt in front of him, stunned.

"You need what?!"

"I need money to buy a bunny! My sister baby needs a bunny, Daddy!"

"A bunny?"

"Yeah, from Agent Robbie!"

"Dennis, I don't even know if I have any cash on me. We can buy the bunny, after she's born, okay? Just go back out."

"Okay, Daddy. I'll tell Agent Robbie!"

Dennis ran back out, rushing back to the tote.

"Agent Robbie, Daddy says we can buy the bunny! Um. We gotta wait for Amanda, though."

"Okay, I'll set the bunny aside," Robbie promised.

"Do you sell these, normally?" Cassian asked.

"Some of them. I donate some to the hospital, though. That's why I brought my tote today."

"What's donate?" Dennis asked.

"Give. I give the blankets to babies who might not get a nice blanket of their own, if I didn't."

"No blankets?" Dennis said, indignantly, frowning. "That's not right!"

"No, but it happens. I mean, the hospital keeps them warm and covered, but some parents just can't afford things like this."

"That's sad," Cassian said, softly.

"Yeah. So are you ready to try crocheting, Dennis?"

"Crow..."

"Crow-shay. That's how I make these. See? All you need is some yarn and a hook."

Robbie held up a crochet hook and began showing the boys how to make a chain, then some simple single stitches. Dennis had trouble concentrating long enough to do more than make chains, though he loved that. Crocheting was abandoned, when a baby's cry was heard from a nearby room. Gasping, Dennis dropped his hook and chain, running for the door.

"No, Dennis, that isn't..." Robbie began, standing, but he tripped over his tote.

By the time he got his balance, Dennis was through the door. He ran to the end of the bed and looked up, grinning.

The woman and the man standing beside her were not his mommy and daddy. The woman stared at him with wide eyes, panting, her fair skin pale and sweaty.

"Uh oh," Dennis said, making another mad dash for the door. He got halfway through the door, then called back over his shoulder, "I'm sorry I looked at your pee-pee!"

Robbie sat down hard in his chair, joining Cassian in hard, helpless laughter. They barely noticed, when Dennis turned around, opening the door a small bit again.

"Is the baby a boy or girl?" he asked.

"It's a boy!" the father answered, his own laughter drifting out.

"Oh, okay. Um. Good job!" he said, then shut the door.

"Dennis, you just can not!" Cassian gasped, as Dennis rejoined them.

"I didn't mean to," Dennis said, shrugging. "I thought that was Amanda."

"You'll know, when Amanda is here, because Dad will be standing in the door!"

"Take it easy on him. It's my fault, really. I'm not doing a very good job of keeping him out here."

"Oh, well," Dennis said calmly, shrugging again. "You tried."

"Oh, man," Cassian said, giggling helplessly.

"Um. Can I go potty?" Dennis asked, trying to be good.

"Yes, go potty," Robbie agreed, watching Dennis run over to and go inside the restroom.

"You know about him, don't you?" Cassian asked.

"That he was Murdoc? Sure."

"Yeah. He was a lot less embarrassing as a dad, than he is as a baby brother," Cassian said, shaking his head.

"I imagine so, but he'll probably outgrow it."

"Yeah, that's what Dad says, too."

Dennis came back out, wiping his hands on a huge wad of paper towels. He sat back down, sighing.

"Still no Amanda?"

"No, not yet."

"Why do babies take forever?" Dennis said loudly, slumping down against the back of the chair. "I'm too little to wait and wait and wait so LONG!"

"You're such a drama queen," Cassian scolded, going back to crocheting.

"Don't call me names," Dennis ordered, frowning.

"I'm sorry," Cassian said, in a gentler tone.

"Did you have to wait for me?"

"Yeah, actually," Cassian said, with dry amusement. "That was a very long day."

"Oh. Well. Sorry," Dennis said carelessly, rolling around on the chair in a paroxysm of boredom.

"Why don't you spend some time thinking of a name for Amanda's bunny?" Robbie suggested.

"It's her bunny."

"But, she won't be old enough to name the bunny for a long time. You don't want the bunny to go all that time without a name."

"Ooo, what are bunnies, even?" Dennis asked, leaning so his head was hanging off the edge of the chair.

"You know what bunnies are!" Cassian said, laughing.

"Where do you see bunnies? They don't make noise."

"I don't know. There's the Easter bunny, cartoon bunnies, magician's bunnies..."

"Hats! They pull bunnies from hats," Dennis said, thinking hard. "Poof!"

"Poof?"

"They make bunnies go poof. Her name is Poof!"

"Oh, man, I hope Mom gives birth soon," Cassian groaned.

"Me too," Dennis said, mournfully, sitting up only to lean over, draping himself across Cassian.

7:55

Dennis sat on Cassian's lap, as Cassian read to him from a book. A baby's cry filled the air and Dennis jumped. Cassian quickly wrapped his arms around him.

"Hey, wait! Dad will show up, if that's Amanda, but we gotta let them clean her and stuff."

"I don't wanna wait anymore!"

"I know, I know, but it'll only be a few more minutes."

Dennis protested and squirmed, but stayed in the chair with Cassian. A short time later, MacGyver came out, smiling, holding the door open.

"Okay, you can come in now. Take it easy on your mommy, though, Dennis."

"I will!" Dennis promised, running past him into the room to his mother.

Nasha smiled warmly, as Dennis climbed carefully up onto the bed with her. He stared down at his sister with loving glee. She was sleeping on Nasha's chest, already fed. Dark lashes lay softly across her cheek and a soft fuzz of dark hair covered her head.

"Awwww," Dennis whispered, before leaning down and kissing Amanda's cheek.

"Can I hold her?" Cassian asked, going to her other side.

"Sure, just try not to wake her," Nasha said softly.

"You good, Mommy?" Dennis asked, kissing and hugging her.

"Oh, yes, darling. I'm very good."

Cassian lifted Amanda into his arms, snuggling her against his chest. He wasn't as enraptured by babies as Dennis was, but he still felt awe. This was his little sister, newly born. He brushed a finger gently over her tiny fingers, giggling a bit, when she squirmed in his hold and yawned. He kissed her forehead.

"Hello, Amanda. So sleepy!" he whispered.

"My turn!" Dennis protested. "I want to say hi!"

"Okay, okay, calm down," Cassian soothed, walking around and placing Amanda on Dennis' lap, before returning to and sitting on Nasha's other side.

Dennis didn't say anything, just wrapped his arms around Amanda. He examined her fingers and toes, making soft, awed sounds.

"You're pretty. You missed Santa. It's okay. Daddy's gonna buy you a bunny friend, Poof. I love you."

MacGyver came over and carefully picked up both Dennis and Amanda, sliding onto the bed and resting them in his lap. He kissed Dennis, then Amanda.

"There she is and well worth the wait."

"Where are these two going to sleep tonight?" Nasha asked. "It'll be Dennis' bedtime soon."

"We can watch them," Bozer announced, coming in with Riley, Matty, and Jack. "The mission was critical, but it didn't take long. We just got some last minute information, so Jack was able to crash a big drug and money exchange. It's all cool. Congratulations."

"Yeah, same here," Riley agreed. "Look at you, Dennis, being a good big brother."

"I'mma be the best big brother!"

Robbie came in and handed Poof over to Dennis.

"Well, congratulations, guys. I'm going to get out of here."

"Oh," MacGyver said, struggling to reach for his wallet. "Thank you, Robbie."

"Hey, no, don't worry about it, right now. You can pay me later. No rush," Robbie assured him, grinning. "You've got more important things happening."

"Yeah, you gotta convince Dennis to let the rest of us get a shot at holding her," Jack teased.

"Oh, good luck with that," Robbie said, heading out the door.

Dennis huffed, indignantly.

"Can't you hold her later?? I've waited a long, long time!"

"Two more minutes, then it's Jack's turn," MacGyver said, chuckling.

"O-kay," Dennis said, reluctantly, holding Amanda a bit closer.

The adults chuckled, amused, but also touched by the scene in front of them. As best they could, they all cuddled up as family to see and welcome their newest member.

May 17th, 2020 3:30 P.M.

Cassian came in after school and found Dennis and MacGyver in the living room, playing a video game combining racing and music. Dennis was singing enthusiastically along, as best he could.

"Hey, Dad. Hi, Dennis."

"Hi, Cassian," MacGyver said. "How was school?"

"Fine. I did good on the history test, I think. Hey, Dad. Is it okay if I stay the night at a friend's house?"

MacGyver paused the game, turning to give Cassian his full attention.

"I guess so. Which friend?"

"Ryan."

"Ryan?" Dennis practically yelped.

"Yes, Ryan," Cassian said, annoyed. "We've become friends. He's okay."

"No. You can't. He's a bad boy," Dennis said, sternly.

"I think he was asking me," MacGyver said, firmly. "If you want to, it's fine with me. I'm glad you boys are getting along better."

MacGyver genuinely was glad. He'd gotten to know Deidre and her husband, Thomas, a lot better, since that first meeting on the playground. They had become friendly, during numerous encounters at the park and school events. MacGyver hadn't known, at that first encounter, that Thomas was suffering from active tuberculosis. It had taken a few tries to find a drug that was effective for him. The whole family had been under a strain. Thomas had missed work and Deidre had shouldered most of the responsibility for keeping their home together. Fortunately, Thomas had since made a full recovery. Once his home had stabilized, Ryan had turned his act around, showing that, deep down, he was a good kid. Unfortunately, Dennis didn't understand that.

"NO! You can't go, Cassian," Dennis said, fiercely, scowling. "Not that boy!"

"Dad says I can," Cassian said, hurt. "I'm going, Dennis."

Cassian turned and ran upstairs to his bedroom. After a couple of minutes, MacGyver came in behind him. He leaned against the doorway and sighed.

"Are you okay?"

"Obeying him feels weird. He's a little kid!"

"Yes, he is. You don't have to do what he says. Half the time he doesn't even make sense. Because, as you say, he's a little kid."

"I feel guilty, when I don't. Like, I've forgotten him or, or don't care anymore. But, I do!"

"Cassian. Murdoc would be the last person on Earth to blame you...for any of this."

"Because I'm his son and he loved...loves me."

"No, because he understood about survival and necessity. You can't go around treating a four-year-old like he's your father. Even if it didn't draw unwanted attention, it wouldn't be healthy. For either of you."

"I guess so."

"Trust me," MacGyver said, dryly. "My job as your dad is to do what's best for you. Right now, the best thing is for you to pack a bag, go to Ryan's, and have fun. So, get to it, kid."

"Okay, Dad," Cassian said, smiling brightly and giving a small laugh.

"Good," MacGyver said, kissing Cassian's forehead. "And, no worrying about your brother. He'll be fine, whether he likes it or not."

"I won't."

MacGyver went downstairs and found Dennis still on the couch, sulking.

"You're letting him go," Dennis said, glaring at his own kneecaps.

"Yes, I am."

"Why?!"

"Because there's no reason not to."

"Ryan is a bad boy!"

"No, he did something bad once and made you angry. That doesn't make him permanently bad."

"He hurt Cassian."

"If Cassian can forgive him, so can you."

"NO!" Dennis shouted, running upstairs to his room.

"Or not," MacGyver admitted, wryly.

Cassian heard Dennis' door slam and sighed. He trudged to his brother's room and knocked.

"No!" Dennis said, kicking his side of the door.

"Fine, be that way," Cassian said, sharply. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"You could stay with Bobby!" Dennis offered, through the still-closed door.

"Bobby is staying at Ryan's, too. He's having a big sleep-over."

"He shouldn't! The daddies should say no!"

"Well, they didn't. Good night, Dennis."

Dennis sat down on the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees, listening to Cassian's steps grow fainter. He sighed, then sobbed. This was wrong. He couldn't help Cassian, couldn't keep him safe. But, he had to. A deep place inside of him always needed to keep Cassian safe and close. The deep place often held feelings and wants that Dennis didn't understand. He recognized love for Cassian though. Protecting Cassian made sense. Sometimes, Daddy seemed to understand and helped him take care of Cassian. Sometimes, he didn't. Now, Cassian was in trouble.

6:30 P.M.

Cassian flailed around, trying to find one of the other boys. It was a bit hard to breathe, with a sleeping bag over his head. Of course, his laughter didn't help either. He crashed into someone, then recognized Ryan's laugh. The two boys groped and flailed, trying to get some sort of wrestler's grip on each other. After a moment, they fell to the ground, with Cassian hitting the floor first, causing a large thud.

"You okay, Cassian?" Ryan asked.

"Sure," Cassian assured him, still laughing.

"Ryan?" his friend Carl asked. "You don't have a kid brother. So...who's that?"

Cassian felt a wave of dread. Quickly, he pulled his sleeping bag from his head and looked in the direction Carl was pointing. Dennis was sitting at the table a few feet away, munching on a slice of the pizza Deidre had bought for them.

The boys were hanging out in Ryan's furnished basement. They had brought sleeping bags and were planning on crashing down there for the night. The left half of the basement was a large living room, with a couch, television, and comfortable chairs. The right side was divided into two sections. The back half was a laundry room, while the front half had a dining table and chairs. The table served several purposes, including card games, homework, and working jigsaw puzzles. For now, it was a place for the boys to place the various foods and sodas they planned to consume. They just hadn't expected the small child they were currently gaping at.

"How can you see with bags on your heads?" Dennis asked, puzzled, around a mouthful of cheese and pepperoni.

"We can't," Carl explained. "That's the idea. Um, I'm not the only one seeing and hearing this kid, right?"

"He's not a ghost," Cassian said, sighing. "He's my little brother, Dennis. Dennis, what are you doing?"

"I'm waiting to talk to you. You were playing and there's lots of pizza. So, I let myself have some."

Cassian rolled his eyes.

"We're not talking. I'm going upstairs to get my phone. I'll call Dad and he'll come get you."

"We can walk home! It's not that far," Dennis offered, watching as Cassian disappeared up the stairs.

"You walked here?" Bobby asked, dismayed. "By yourself?"

"Yeah."

"Are you nuts?" Carl asked. "What if someone had tried to grab you? A little kid in the open?"

"They couldn't!" Dennis huffed, frowning severely, pointing sternly at them. "I'm smart and strong. No one saw me, not even the peekers in windows."

"Okay, that's creepy. You really saw people peeking out their windows?" Ryan asked.

"There's always peekers."

"Yeah, but your parents are going to be mad," Bobby said, regretfully. "Why did you sneak out?"

"For Cassian! I don't want him here."

"Aw. I guess you miss your big brother?" Carl said, sympathizing.

"I think he's upset about me," Ryan corrected.

"You're a mean, bad boy."

Ryan sighed, walking over and sitting at the table next to Dennis.

"I was pretty rotten, at the park. I'm sorry. But, Cassian and I are getting along now and we're just having some fun."

"You don't like him. You called him a girl!"

"Of course, I like him. He's a good guy. I just...look, sometimes people are mean, because they're angry or scared."

"Cassian was nice. He's not scary at all!"

"Um, no, that's not what I mean. I was angry and scared, because my dad was really sick. I was afraid he was gonna die."

"Did he die?" Dennis asked bluntly.

"No, he got all better. We were lucky. But, I was messed up by it, for a while."

"Your daddy's better, so you're better?" Dennis asked, uncertain.

"Yeah, that's how it works, sometimes."

"I don't know," Dennis said, playing with the crust of his pizza.

"C'mon, Dennis," Bobby urged. "You think Cassian and I would be dumb enough to stay over, if we weren't cool with Ryan?"

"I don't think Cassian is dumb!" Dennis denied angrily.

"Okay, so take our word for it. We're having fun. I mean, you saw that yourself, right?"

"Yeah," Dennis admitted, then turned back to Ryan. "You'll be nice to my Cassian?"

"Sure. Y'know, he's able to smack me down, too, if I'm not."

"Well, okay. He can stay. If you're nice."

"Next question," Bobby said, puzzled. "How did you get into Ryan's house?"

"I came in the sliding doors in the back. I sneaked behind the couch. Then, I heard you behind the door and came down. You didn't see me, because you had bags on. So, I waited."

"Mom's gonna kill me," Ryan sighed. "I forgot to lock the door, when we came in."

"Yeah," Dennis agreed, shrugging.

Cassian came back downstairs, followed by Thomas, Ryan's dad.

"Oh, crap," Thomas breathed, his eyes wide. "You weren't joking. I'm glad you called your dad right away. Hi, Dennis. How are you, buddy?"

"Fine."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bailey," Cassian said, fidgeting.

"That's all right, Cassian. You other boys need to go upstairs, until Mr. MacGyver takes Dennis home."

"Why are you sorry?" Dennis asked, indignant, watching the other boys file upstairs.

Cassian gave him a flat, angry look, before answering, "Because my kid brother broke into their home, ate their food, and was rude to their son. Because, he wants me to come home."

"I didn't break anything," Dennis defended himself.

"You invaded their home, Dennis!" Cassian snapped, pacing around the table.

"Cassian, be easier on him," Thomas urged. "Remember, he's only four."

"What happens, when he isn't, though?" Cassian asked, worried.

"I gotta help you," Dennis said, hurt.

"I don't want you to, not if it makes you hurt other people!"

"You're always mad at me!" Dennis accused, his face turning red and his eyes becoming wet. "I try and try and you get mad! But, I gotta...I gotta...and you can just get mad, but I gotta!"

Dennis slammed his fists against the table with each "gotta," then buried his face in his hands. He didn't sob or cry out, but made an angry, frustrated, moaning sound.

"Why do you gotta?" Cassian asked wearily. "Why can't you just let Mom and Dad take care of things?"

Dennis didn't answer, violently shaking his head.

"Hey, Dennis, calm down, okay?" Thomas urged, sitting next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Cassian's fine. You don't have to worry, little guy."

"He's just over-protective," Cassian said, trying to explain.

"And, you get mad," Dennis said again, sulking. "I try to help and you get mad!"

"I don't get mad at you hardly ever," Cassian corrected, then sighed.

Walking over, he squeezed in next to Dennis on his chair, draping an arm around him.

"I'm not mad. I'm just worried about what's going to happen to you, if you keep doing stuff like this."

Dennis turned towards Cassian, cuddling against him.

"You can stay. I told Ryan," Dennis said, pleading a bit.

"Good," MacGyver said, coming down the stairs, his eyes red and his mouth set in a tight line. "Don't worry, Cassian. He's not going to keep doing things like this."

"Hi, Mac. The boy's fine. He's more upset about Cassian than anything," Thomas greeted, standing and approaching him.

"Hi, Tom. I'm sorry about all this," MacGyver told him, holding out his hand.

"That's all right," Thomas said, shaking the offered hand. "We can't watch them every second, y'know? It's scary how fast they can move."

"Yeah. I hate to ask, but can I go ahead and give Dennis his timeout, here? I don't want to wait, until we get home. This whole thing has been hard on Nasha."

"Sure. Go right ahead."

MacGyver turned to Dennis, frowning sternly.

"All right. Go in that corner, Dennis. You're in for four minutes."

Dennis pulled slowly away from Cassian, staring at his Daddy. No hello? No hugs? His daddy always gave him hugs, when seeing him again. A horrible heat and tightness spread through Dennis' chest, upsetting his stomach. This...this was new. He didn't like it. Daddy was angry. The deep place in his mind recognized that stern face, but Dennis couldn't imagine why. His daddy had never looked so hard before! Still, that deep place wanted to obey, so Dennis went quietly into the corner, his lips trembling.

MacGyver realized how badly upset Dennis was and cursed inwardly. He held firm though. Dennis knew a timeout meant he had messed up and this time he'd messed up badly. This wasn't biting or being rude. Dennis had sneaked into someone else's home! He'd run away. MacGyer had never been more terrified. MacGyver had left Dennis alone in the living room for a mere five minutes. After using the restroom and getting a drink from the kitchen, he'd returned to an empty living room. MacGyver had searched for his son, the act becoming more and more frantic. He'd been forced to accept the fact that Dennis wasn't in the house, wasn't hiding and playing. Cassian had called, just as MacGyver pulled his phone out to call Jack.

MacGyver shook off the thought, turning his attention to Cassian, who sat looking tired and sad on the chair.

"Hey, kiddo. Are you okay?"

Cassian got up and walked over to MacGyver, silently slipping his arms around his dad's waist and resting against him.

"This is not your fault," MacGyver told him with resolute kindness. "You have to understand that, Cassian."

"It's hard," Cassian complained.

"I know," MacGyver said, softly, running a hand over Cassian's hair.

"I don't mean to pry, but...why is the boy so afraid? It's just a sleepover," Thomas asked, bewildered and concerned.

"Dennis just...he tries to take care of Cassian. He's always been that way, since I adopted them."

"Before, even," Cassian said, wryly, smiling a bit. "Sometimes it's funny, but this..."

"He's still has a lot of Murdoc in him, I guess."

"Murdoc?"

"My natural father," Cassian said, sadly. "He was a good dad, but he's gone now."

"He was a good dad," MacGyver agreed. "He was messed up in other ways, but he was a good dad."

"I'm sorry, I..."

"No, don't be, please. He invaded your home. You have a right to an explanation."

"I'm just concerned for Dennis. I mean...he's pretty upset. He had a meltdown over all this."

"I know," MacGyver sighed. "I'm trying to teach him to find happy mediums, but...he's just naturally very intense. What he feels, he feels strongly."

"No offense, but have you considered...um."

"Getting him help?" MacGyver said, wryly. "Yeah, actually. There's a psychiatrist where I work, Miriam. She sees him occasionally and she's always given me good advice. He calls her Dr. Miri. "

MacGyver's watch timer rang out, signaling the end of Dennis' timeout. MacGyver turned to his youngest son and saw the boy reluctantly peeking around at him.

"You can come out now," MacGyver said, calmly. "Say good-bye to Cassian. We need to get you home to your mom."

Dennis came over, but stood in front of Thomas.

"I'm sorry I invaded you. I didn't mean to. I just wanted Cassian."

"Well, next time, just knock okay? I promise, we'll let you talk to Cassian, while your dad comes to get you."

"Okay," Dennis agreed, sadly.

He went over to Cassian and gave him a hug.

"I love you."

"I love you, too. I'm sorry I got mad."

"It's okay."

"Good. Give Mom a huge hug. I bet she needs it."

"Maybe," Dennis said, suddenly unsure.

Everyone was so mad at him!

"Thanks, Tom. Have a good night."

"Sure, Mac, you, too. You guys take care."

"Good night, Cassian," MacGyver said, giving him a hug.

"Good night, Dad."

MacGyver picked Dennis up and carried him out of the house. As they reached the sidewalk, Dennis took his chances and wrapped his arms around MacGyver's neck, burying his face in his daddy's shoulder. MacGyver hugged back and Dennis' relief made him start crying.

"Hey, hey. It's okay. I'm just trying to get us home fast, so your mommy can see you," MacGyver assured him, walking quickly.

"What if she doesn't want to?"

"Doesn't want..." MacGyver began incredulously, then stopped, giving a weary sigh. "Ah, little guy..."

MacGyver stopped by the stone fence that surrounded Ms. Olga's house. She was a kind, elderly woman, who ruled her five children and numerous grandchildren with an iron fist and a loving heart. She was good with children and never objected to people walking by using her fence as a place to sit and rest. MacGyver sat on the fence, maneuvering Dennis onto his lap.

"Okay, let's talk," MacGyver conceded. "Dennis, you didn't make us angry. You scared us. Do you understand that?"

"No," Dennis said, shrugging.

"No, of course not," MacGyver muttered, his eyes squeezing shut.

You're not the big, bad wolf, anymore, Murdoc, and I get to explain that to you,, MacGyver thought.

"It's not just bravery, is it?" MacGyver asked, wryly. "Dennis, I know, deep inside, you feel like you're strong and tough. Cassian's right. You think you're ten feet tall and bulletproof."

"I'm smart and strong, Daddy," Dennis said, shrugging again.

"Yes, you are. You really are, in more ways than you know. But, Dennis, you're a little boy."

"Yeah," Dennis agreed.

"You've always been so wary of strangers. Dennis, there's no easier way for you to meet the bad kind of stranger, than to go wandering around on your own!"

"There wasn't anyone, Daddy! I didn't see anyone and no one saw me!"

"Yeah, you got lucky. But, what if you hadn't? If a bad stranger did come across you, what would you be able to do? You're not big enough to fight off an adult."

Dennis wanted to argue, but the deep place inside was silent. All the big, chaotic emotions that often gripped him had fled, leaving him feeling as small and young as his daddy said he was. But, the deep place held a truth, something he knew absolutely.

"But, Daddy, I had to! I gotta help Cassian. I gotta!"

"I know," MacGyver assured him, sadly. "But, Dennis, we have to know where you are, at all times. You can help Cassian, but you have to let us help you."

"You were scared?" Dennis asked, hardly believing it, except his daddy didn't lie.

"Imagine, if Cassian went missing. He was just suddenly gone and you didn't know where."

Dennis went very still, his eyes wide. Hot anger and frantic worry bloomed in his chest, making him feel about to burst, hurting his head and his heart. The deep place was wide awake now and it took all of Dennis' control not to run back and check on Cassian. Imagine. His daddy had said imagine he reminded himself. Daddy was smiling slightly, his gaze wise and knowing. The look made Dennis shrink in on himself a bit, but it was comforting, too.

"That's a scary thought, isn't it? Well, that's how I felt, when I realized you were gone. It didn't help that you left Bark behind. You never do that, so I thought maybe you didn't go, but were taken."

"You thought bad guys took me?" Dennis asked, incredulous.

"They might have. I didn't know and that's the worst part. I didn't know, if you were just playing a game or what. But, the thought occurred to me that I might not ever get to see you again. Your family might have lost you forever," MacGyver said, his voice thick with tears. "What would we do, without our little Dennis?"

Dennis shook his head, unable to answer.

"We love you, just as much as you love Cassian," MacGyver explained, something he'd known, but never really grasped, before. "Son, you are so precious to us!"

Dennis leaned against MacGyver, love and astonishment rocking him. As MacGyver hugged Dennis tightly, kissing the top of his head, the deep place relaxed and expanded, creating a warm, happy bubble inside. Dennis had known he was loved. As much as he loved Cassian, though? It was enough to impress the deep place that was almost never impressed. Dennis snuggled in tightly, soaking up the affection.

"I won't wander, Daddy. And, if bad strangers come inside, I'll scream and scream and scream. I can do that."

"Sounds like a good plan," MacGyver agreed, praying that Dennis would remember and keep his promise. "So, one more thing. You gotta give Cassian some breathing room. He needs to grow and that includes choosing his own friends and making his own mistakes. He's growing up fast and you need to start listening to him. Okay?"

They would definitely be having a few sessions with Dr. Miri, to reinforce the new boundaries and ideas.

"Okay, Daddy."

"Good. Now, come on. We really need to get you home to your mom. You scared her, too."

"I'm sorry, Daddy."

"I know, kiddo."

Once they were home, Nasha barely waited for them to get inside the door, before scooping Dennis out of MacGyver's arms, hugging him tightly. Dennis rested his cheek against hers, listening quietly as she mixed a thorough scolding with exclamations of love and relief. He made soft sounds of agreement. The deep place was peacefully silent and Dennis fell asleep, listening to it.

August 16th, 2021 8 A.M.

Dennis walked into his assigned classroom, holding onto MacGyver's hand. MacGyver had agreed to drop Dennis off at school, for the first week or two, until the boy got used to his teacher and learned his way to the room. Dennis stared around the room, taking in the tables, the bookcases against one wall, and the shelves of toys. There were areas decorated with letters and numbers and others decorated with animals and plants. MacGyver knelt down in front of Dennis, straightening the collar on his shirt. The school's emblem was embroidered on one side of his chest--the Bright Path Academy.

"Okay, buddy. I gotta go in a minute. You're okay?"

"Yeah. I wish you could stay, Daddy."

"I know, but I have to go to work. You'll be fine. Just be a good helper and listen to Miss Jenny. You'll have fun learning and making friends," MacGyver assured him, hoping that was true.

"I will, Daddy," Dennis promised, shrugging.

"Okay, I'll see you after school. Just remember to look for Cassian, when you're getting on the bus."

"What if he gets sick and goes home? He won't be on the bus, then."

"He's not sick," MacGyver said, laughing. "But, if that happens, someone will come pick you up, at least until you're familiar enough with your bus to ride by yourself."

"Okay, Daddy."

MacGyver kissed Dennis on the forehead, then stood. Dennis gave him a hug, then took a deep breath and stepped back.

"Bye, Daddy."

"Bye, Dennis."

MacGyver left quickly, knowing it was best to get it over with. Dennis watched him leave, frowning, but resigned.

"Hello, Dennis," Miss Jenny said, after MacGyver was gone. "Are you ready to get started?"

"I guess so."

"Well, you have about fifteen minutes, before we start. Why don't you meet some of the other kids? Or you could look at the books."

"Yes, Miss Jenny."

Dennis put his coat and backpack away in the cubbyhole that had his name on it. Shaking his head, he began wandering around the room, examining the bright posters on the walls. It was a pretty room, he admitted to himself. He went to the toy cabinet and looked through it, then went and began peeking under the tables and around the chairs.

"What are you looking for?" a girl with long, brown hair asked, curious.

"Nothing. I'm just...looking."

"What's your name?"

"Dennis. Who are you?" he asked, feeling like he should.

"Nancy Thompson," she answered, smiling. "Do you like math or stories better? We're going to learn how to read!"

"I'd rather sing or make things from my fuzzy sticks."

A soft sob interrupted them. Dennis frowned, looking around at the other kids. No one seemed to be crying. He took another look around, beginning to feel uneasy, when he spotted a foot resting against the supply case near the back window. There was just enough space between the case and window for a child or two to squeeze in, out of sight. Nancy noticed where Dennis was looking and gave sighed.

"That's Will. He's feeling sad."

"Yeah, I can hear him crying," Dennis agreed, full of sass.

Dennis almost continued talking to Nancy, but then sighed. He'd promised his mom and dad he would be a good helper at school. Well, that kid definitely sounded like he needed help.

"I'll talk to him," Dennis told Nancy, shrugging.

Dennis went over to Will's hiding spot and sat next to him on the floor. He squeezed right up against him, not realizing he had effectively trapped the smaller boy. Will looked at Dennis, annoyed and a bit afraid.

"Leave me alone," Will said, weakly, his lip trembling.

"I can't. You need help and I promised," Dennis explained. "What's wrong?"

"I want my mommy," Will snapped, sniffling.

Dennis draped an arm around Will's shoulders.

"We all want our mommies. I want to teach my baby sister Amanda how to jump off the couch."

Will blinked at Dennis a few times.

"Why?"

"Because it's fun!" Dennis said gleefully.

Will decided he felt sorry for the other boy's sister.

"Why do we have to be here?!"

"Um. I guess so we can learn stuff and not grow up to be dummies."

"Why can't my mommy teach me?"

"I don't know. My mommy's a teacher and she's not teaching me."

"Who are you?"

Dennis laughed, a bit wildly, smacking himself lightly on the forehead.

"I forgot to say my name! I'm Dennis."

"Hi," Will said sulkily, just to be polite.

Dennis gave Will a good look and noticed he had a toy clutched in his hand, hidden beside his leg.

"Whatcha got?"

Will hesitated, then drew the toy into his lap. Dennis eyed the plush Charizard with some admiration.

"I brought him from home. He's my favorite. Don't tell," Will pleaded, wondering if Dennis would laugh at him.

"Don't move. I'll be right back," Dennis ordered.

Will obediently stayed still, watching as Dennis went and got into his backpack. Coming back, he laid Bark across his lap, showing his fox face to Will.

"This is Bark. I've had him since I was tiny. He's shared most of my adventures."

"Wow. He's great," Will admitted.

"IT is for weak, dumb babies," another boy said, disdainfully, coming and standing over them.

"Who are you?" Dennis demanded, his eyes narrowing.

"I'm Kevin O'Roarke. Who are you?"

"Dennis MacGyver. And you are wrong. This is a smart, strong blankie. My Aunt Matty gave me this blankie and no one is smarter and stronger than her. No one," Dennis assured Kevin, waving his pointer finger for emphasis.

"Is she scary?" Will asked.

"Terrifying!" Dennis said, smiling proudly.

"Is she your dad's sister or your mom's?" Nancy asked, intrigued.

"Neither, I think," Dennis admitted, frowning lightly.

"Then, why is she your aunt?" Will asked, confused.

"Because, she says so," Dennis said, flatly. He paused, then said, giggling, "No one argues with Aunt Matty. Besides, Daddy and Mommy love her, too."

"I don't care about Aunt Matty," Kevin said, impatiently. "It's just a silly toy!"

"Well. Yeah?" Dennis agreed, shrugging.

"Dennis, Will, it's time to take our seats. Put your toys away, please," Miss Jenny told them, ending the discussion.

"Come on, Will. Maybe we'll get to sing a song!" Dennis said, springing to his feet.

Dennis took Bark back and got out his backpack.

"Poor Bark. You're just a lifeless toy, but I still love you. Oh, well!" Dennis said cheerfully, stuffing Bark into his bag. "Time for school!"

Will reluctantly followed, feeling tugged along, depositing his Charizard in his cubbyhole. They took their seats and Miss Jenny began the class. She introduced everyone, then led them in a song. Soon, they were in the middle of an English lesson, learning simple words and their letters.

"This is the word bat," Miss Jenny said, writing the word on the chalkboard, below the word cat.

"I don't like it," Dennis announced, earning a confused frown.

"I'm sorry, Dennis. What don't you like?"

"The middle part...a. I mean, you have those tall letters, swooping up," Dennis said, sweeping his hand grandly from side to side. "Then, you have a...just squatting there, getting in the way."

"You didn't say anything about cat," Yvonne said, sharply.

"Cat's fine. You got the smaller letters following the larger one, in front, like duckies," Dennis explained.

"C is the first letter, though. It's in front!" Will protested.

"Yeah, if they're moving, they're going left," Nancy agreed, kindly.

"That's not right!" Dennis said, shaking his head. "Look at t's arms. That's creepy, if it's following them. Look!"

Dennis got up, stretching his arms out and staggering around.

"I'm going to get you a and c," he intoned, trying to sound scary.

"You stop that," Yvonne demanded.

"Yeah, t isn't being mean!" Nancy agreed. "I think it's trying to keep the smaller letters from tripping."

Dennis looked at the board again, then nodded, slowly.

"Okay, yeah. It might be. I do that with Amanda sometimes."

"Dennis, please sit back down," Miss Jenny instructed. "We can make up stories about letters later."

Dennis sat down, shrugging lightly. The reading lesson was followed by writing practice, then Miss Jenny read them a story, Shhh! We Have a Plan by Chris Haughton. Dennis took great delight in going "shhhhhh," mostly in the appropriate places. Around noon, Miss Jenny announced it was time for lunch. She stood the children in a line, then walked them down the hall to the cafeteria.

There were only fifteen children in Dennis' class, but they needed three tables to fit all of them. A fourth table sat close by, empty. Dennis sat down where Miss Jenny told him to, waiting with curiosity. He was at a table with Will, Yvonne, plus kids he hadn't talked to yet, a girl named Simone and a boy named Mark.

"Dennis," Miss Jenny said, getting his attention, smiling and pointing towards the door. "There's someone here to see you."

Dennis looked and saw Jack and MacGyver entering the room.

"Daddy! Uncle Jack!" he exclaimed happily, getting up and running to give them hugs.

"What's for lunch, Little 'doc?"

"Little 'doc?" Dennis asked, confused.

"Well, I can't call ya Baby 'doc, anymore. You're a big boy going to school."

"I guess so," Dennis agreed, sighing. "We're having raviolis."

"Sounds good. How's school been so far? Are you making friends?" MacGyver asked, as they sat down at the tables.

"I guess so. I've talked to Will and Kevin. That's them," Dennis said, pointing out his classmates. "Though, Kevin was kinda mean about Bark. Then there's Nancy and Yvonne! They scare me!"

Dennis laughed gleefully at his confession.

"They scare him?" Will whispered to Mark, who shook his head in equal disbelief.

"You're not supposed to laugh, if you're afraid, silly!" Simone said, giggling at him.

"Why not?" Dennis asked, confused. "It's funny!"

"Can he laugh, if he's scared of someone?" Nancy asked Jack.

"It's no use asking him," Dennis told her, offending Jack a bit, until he continued with, "He's never been afraid of anything."

"That's not quite true," Jack admitted, chuckling.

"Well, it's almost true. I'm gonna teach Amanda to be brave, just like you and me."

"What if she doesn't want to be brave?" Will asked, quietly.

"She does, though," Dennis assured him.

"Why do Nancy and Yvonne scare you?" MacGyver asked, puzzled.

"Because, they're all, 'stop that!'" Dennis explained. "I was showing how creepy t was, but they said it was just helping the littler letters."

"Ooookay," MacGyver said, amused. "Did you bring Bark to school? Your mom didn't see him in your room."

"Yeah, he's in my backpack."

"You don't play with him as much anymore. What made you bring him to school?"

"I don't know. He's been there for most stuff. I thought he should see at least the first day of school."

"Makes sense," Jack agreed, smirking a bit.

"Yeah, fair point," MacGyver conceded, shaking his head.

"What about school itself, Little 'doc? Do you like class?"

"It's okay," Dennis said, reluctantly. "There's too much sitting. I'm not a person who sits!"

"You sit, when you play with your fuzzy sticks," MacGver reasoned. "You'll get used to sitting more often."

"Yeah, but I'd don't want to."

MacGyver and Jack laughed, knowingly. Soon lunch was over and they left. Dennis was sorry to see them go, but it was recess time! He was eager to get outside and play.

"Your Uncle Jack is scary-looking," Will asid apologetically, as they filed outside.

"He is scary."

"Is your whole family scary?" Kevin asked, warily.

"Well...Uncle Bozer doesn't seem scary."

"But, he is?" Yvonne suggested, knowingly.

"Yeah, he is," Dennis agreed cheerfully. "He's great, though. They all are."

The other kids weren't sure they believed him, but each silently agreed that Uncle Jack, at least, looked scary.

"Your daddy seems nice," Yvonne pointed out.

"He's the most awesome person in the world!" Dennis declared.

"Based on what?" Mark scolded.

"Take my word for it," Dennis said carelessly. "He's the smartest person you'll ever meet!"

The discussion ended, as they reached the playground. Dennis was reasonably impressed. There was a slide, a couple of teeter-totters, a merry-go-round, and swings. There were even monkey bars! As soon as he was allowed, Dennis ran for the swings. He sat down and began pumping his legs, getting the swing as high as he could.

Miss Jenny watched, deciding to keep a close eye on him. Dennis hadn't broken any rules, yet, but he didn't strike her as the careful type. She was helping Mark re-tie his shoes, when she heard a few cries of alarm.

"Dennis, what are you doing?!" Will shouted.

She looked up to see Dennis going down the slide, laying down, his limbs splayed awkwardly.

"Miss Jenny," Nancy said, tearfully. "Can you help? He did a somersault down the slide!"

"Just at the top!" Dennis protested, walking over.

"He's nuts," Kevin decided, flatly.

"You did a somersault up there?" Miss Jenny said, horrified. "Why?!"

"Just to launch myself down," Dennis explained. "I thought it would be fun!"

Miss Jenny took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

"Dennis, I'm sure your parents don't let you do that at home, do they?"

"I don't know. I just now thought of it."

"I'm sure they don't," Miss Jenny said, firmly. "For now, you're going to spend two minutes standing against the building. If you want to use the slide, you must sit down and stay sitting, until you reach the bottom. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss Jenny," Dennis agreed, sadly, going to stand in the designated area.

After the two minutes, Miss Jenny called Dennis back over.

"You can go play now. Remember what I said about the slide. I don't want you getting hurt, okay?"

"Well, is it okay, if I get a little hurt?"

"Dennis, why would you want to get hurt?"

"I don't. I wanna have fun and sometimes fun things get you a little hurt."

"Being safe is more important than having fun, Dennis," Miss Jenny scolded. "I want you to practice playing in safe ways. If you think you'll get hurt, do something else or ask me to help you."

"Okay," Dennis agreed, reluctantly. "I promise."

"Good. Go have some fun now."

2:30 P.M.

Dennis stood in front of the school, watching the buses pull in. He knew his bus number, forty-seven. Will came up beside him, studying the buses.

"Hi, Will. What bus are you on?"

"Forty-seven, but I always get seven and nine mixed up!"

"No problem!" Dennis said, cheerfully. "That's my bus, too."

"What happens to us, if we get on the wrong bus?" Will asked, in nervous whisper.

"We won't, though. If it's the wrong bus, we'll get back off."

"How will we know if it's wrong, before it takes off?" Will demanded.

"Cassian will be on the right bus. I'm not staying on any bus, that doesn't have my Cassian!"

"What if he's on the wrong bus?"

"Don't be silly! He's fourteen," Dennis scoffed.

"I have an older sister, Martha. She's eight."

"Where is she?"

"She goes to regular school."

"Hey! There's forty-seven," Dennis announced, taking off running.

"Dennis! We're supposed to wait in line!"

"Then, we'll be first!"

Will caught up to Dennis near the curb in front of the bus. Other kids crowded around them getting into their lines. An older boy, Roger, got in line behind Will, knocking into him with his elbow.

"Hey!" Will protested, as the force knocked him off balance, making him stumble into Dennis.

"If you little kids weren't in the way so much, you wouldn't get bumped," Roger told him, carelessly.

Dennis frowned, tugging Will and moving between him and Roger.

"We were here first," Dennis said calmly, leveling a steady gaze at Roger.

Roger shifted a bit, surprised at being challenged. He was at least an inch or two taller than Dennis.

"So? You better watch it, kid."

"Why?" Dennis asked, curious, his head tilted to one side.

The deep place inside of Dennis held amusement and it made Dennis want to laugh, too.

"I'm bigger! I could pound you."

Will winced, but Dennis eyed Roger up and down, then shook his head.

"No, you can't."

"Wanna find out?" Roger threatened angrily.

Dennis took a step closer, gazing intently at Roger.

"Do you?" he asked cheerfully, grinning brightly.

Roger reached out and grabbed the front of Dennis' shirt, raising his fist. Dennis just laughed, silently.

"Roger!" a teacher shouted, coming over. "Let that boy go."

Roger obeyed, reluctantly, trying to look more upset than angry.

"He..."

"I don't care! You've been told before about harassing the younger kids. Get to the back of the line!"

"But, Mr. Thomas..." Roger protested.

"Now, Roger!"

Fuming, Roger stormed off. Mr. Thomas turned to Dennis, who just smiled up at him.

"Are you boys okay?"

"Yes, thank you," Dennis said, while Will quietly agreed.

"Thanks, Dennis," Will said, once Mr. Thomas had moved off.

"You're welcome. My daddy was right. If big kids are mean, get an adult."

"We didn't though," Will pointed out. "Mr. Thomas just showed up."

"Yeah, but I didn't bite, either. Close enough!"

The bus doors opened and they walked up the stairs. Will wondered who Dennis had bitten: someone, for sure. Dennis paused in the aisle, then laughed.

"There he is! Come on, Will. We're in the middle on this side," Dennis told him, patting one of the seats on the left.

Will followed Dennis down the aisle, until they reached a tall boy, sitting next to the window with his backpack in the seat next to him. Seeing Dennis, Cassian grinned, removing his backpack.

"Hey, kiddo! How was school?"

"I did great!" Dennis boasted, sitting down and snuggling into Cassian's side. "Will, this is Cassian."

"Hi. I'm Will Stanton."

"Cassian MacGyver," he said, smiling kindly. "Hi there."

"Cassian! I got to eat lunch with Daddy and Uncle Jack!"

"That's cool. Do you like your teacher?"

"Yeah, she's nice," Dennis said, shrugging. "She made me stand by the wall, during part of recess."

"You did a somersault. Onto the SLIDE!" Will reminded him, in her defense. "She's supposed to teach us to behave."

There was a slight pause, while Cassian processed what Will said.

"You did what?!" Cassian shouted, horrified.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have tattled," Will whispered.

"It's okay," Dennis assured him. "He'd have found out anyways."

Cassian just groaned, letting his head fall back against the seat. Will understood. He'd known Dennis for less than a day and the other boy made him groan, too. Will liked Dennis, but he was definitely a handful. As much as Will had missed his mom, he had to admit school was going to be interesting.

November 3rd, 2022. 6:30 P.M.

MacGyver hummed along with his boombox, as he washed dishes. Dennis sat at the table, working through his homework packet. He was singing along to the music. MacGyver washed steadily, feeling a sense of peace and home. The house was quiet and calm, with the boys doing homework and Nasha watching a movie with Amanda.

"Daddy?" Dennis asked, his tone thoughtful.

"Hm? Yeah, buddy."

"Who is Murdoc?"

MacGyver dropped the glass he was washing into the sink, making a loud clinking sound and sending a spray of water into the air. Dennis turned around in surprise, staring at him. MacGyver took a deep breath, giving a shaky laugh. He turned off the music and sat next to Dennis.

"Um. Who talked to you about Murdoc?"

"No one talks to me about him. Everyone talks about him around me. In circles.
Sometimes, you mention him, when you think I'm not listening."

"Uh, okay," MacGyver said, uneasily. "Murdoc, ahh. He's someone we knew, some time ago. But, he went away, about the same time I adopted you and Cassian."

"You told Mr. Bailey he's Cassian's father."

"Yeah, he is," MacGyver admitted, sadly. "As far as we know, he's your and Cassian's only blood relative."

"Where is he?"

"It's hard to explain, Dennis. He got injured and he went away."

"Is he dead?"

"No, he's not dead. He's just...not here."

"Does Cassian miss him?"

"Yes, he misses him very much."

"Can you find him and bring him back?"

"No, I honestly can't," MacGyver promised. "If he's going to come back, it will have to be on his own."

"Was he a bad man?"

"What makes you think that?" MacGyver asked, warily.

"No one talks about him, especially to me. But, you told Mr. Bailey that I have a lot of him in me. You said he was messed up."

"Oh, boy," MacGyver muttered. "Well, he did bad things. I'm not sure anyone is all bad, though."

"Did he hurt Cassian? Is that why you have us now?"

"No. For all of his flaws, Murdoc was a good, loving dad. He would never hurt Cassian or you."

"Tell me about him, though!"

"I can't. I don't know a lot about him. In fact, some of the things I thought I knew don't seem to be true, anymore."

"Were you friends?"

"No. I think he wanted to be, but I didn't realize that at the time. I'm not sure he did, either. I thought he was playing games with us," MacGyver admitted, ruefully.

"But, he was a bad guy."

"Yeah, he was," MacGyver said, unwilling to lie too much.

"Do you hate him?"

"No! Absolutely not," MacGyver said, firmly.

"If he's our birth father, will he try and steal us from you?"

"No, that isn't going to happen. Dennis, listen. There are only two things you need to know about Murdoc, but they're very important. Murdoc isn't someone you have to fear and he isn't someone you should hate."

"Does he know you have us?"

"I think so. Before he left, he asked me to look after you and Cassian."

"And, I'm a lot like him? Was he smart and strong, like me?"

"Very much so," MacGyver agreed, chuckling. "You look a lot like him, too. You have his eyes."

"Where's our birth mommy?"

"I don't know. He never told me anything about her," MacGyver said, fairly, hopefully, certain that Murdoc had lied, when talking about Cassian's mom.

"Does Cassian know?"

"No, he said he doesn't know anything. She wasn't around, so she's probably either dead or someone Murdoc didn't trust around you and Cassian."

"She's bad, too?"

"I don't know. It's possible."

"He's bad, but he wouldn't let other bad people around us?"

"Yeah," MacGyver agreed, laughing at the irony.

"Why didn't he ever tell you about himself?"

"Well, he told us things, just nothing I believe."

"He lied?"

"Yeah, Murdoc lied a lot."

"He was trying to hide that he's bad?"

"No, he never bothered trying to hide that. He lied...well, to entertain himself, mostly."

"That's not nice."

"No, it's not. I'm not sure why he did a lot of things."

"You talk about him a lot, but you don't know much about him," Dennis scolded.

"You're right. I don't much, except for what he did, when we met up a few times. I wish I knew him better."

"Why? If he was bad?"

"Bad or not, he's had a huge impact on my life, including two very good additions to it," MacGyver reminded Dennis, leaning down and touching his forehead to the top of Dennis' head.

"Is Murdoc part of our family, too?"

"Yes," MacGyver assured him. "If Murdoc comes back, he'll have to accept that he's part of this family."

"If he argues with you, I'll tell him!" Dennis promised, smiling brightly.

"That would be an interesting conversation to listen to," MacGyver said, chuckling. "How's your homework coming along?"

"I'm done now."

"Okay, let me check it, then I have to finish washing up."

"Can I go watch the movie with Mommy and Amanda?"

"Sure, go ahead."

MacGyver watched him go, thinking of all the things he wished he could ask. Sometimes, he wished he could sit down for just ten minutes with Murdoc, as he was, and ask him about his smaller self. He wondered how Murdoc would react to MacGyver's attempt at parenting him. As much as he dreaded the thought of Murdoc's resentment, MacGyver was fairly certain the assassin would be amused, even grateful, in his own twisted way. MacGyver grinned, picturing Murdoc's insolent smirk. He gave the memory his own smirk, feeling a weird camaraderie with the adult version of his former nemesis.

MacGyver gave the memory a mental salute, then went back to washing the dishes, humming.

May 24th, 2024. 12 P.M.

MacGyver opened the door, letting Bozer and Leanna into the house, followed by Riley and Billy. Riley cradled her new-born son, Joshua, close to her, while Bozer let go of the hands of his two-year-old twins, Theresa and Teddy. They barely made it in the door, when Dennis came bounding down the stairs. The family was gathering for an afternoon barbecue, now that school was out.

"There's my baby cousins!" Dennis announced, coming down the stairs. "Hey, Uncles Bozer and Billy. Hi, Aunts Riley and Leanna!"

"Hi, Dennis," they greeted, grinning.

"Where's my hugs?" Dennis asked the twins, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. "Do I get hugs and kisses?"

Theresa and Teddy giggled, shaking their heads and holding their hands out.

"We can't!" Theresa declared.

"You can't?" Dennis asked, pouting. "Aw, why not?"

"We lost 'em," Teddy explained, sadly, sighing.

"You lost them?" Dennis said, faking horror. He gave a wicked grin, asking, "Should I help you find them?"

He took a couple of slow steps towards them.

"Should I hunt for them?" he continued, his eyes bright.

"AAAHHHHHH!" the twins screamed gleefully, running for the back yard.

Dennis snickered, giving them a headstart by stopping to kiss Joshua's cheek. He loped after them, joining them and Amanda in the back yard. MacGyver watched him go, chuckling.

"He is getting so big," Riley observed, a bit ruefully.

"Yeah," MacGyver agreed. "We better join them."

The filed out into the backyard, content to spend some time, just talking and watching the kids play. They found the twins had turned the tables on Dennis, who was sprawled on the ground. They and Amanda were crawling all over him, wrestling him and smothering him with hugs and kisses.

"This is it! The End!" Dennis declared dramatically, rearing up, with one hand stretched to the sky. "Death by babies!"

"I'm not a baby, Dennis," Amanda protested. "I'm four!"

"You are, though," Dennis said, still struggling. "You're my sister baby. Forever and always!"

Amanda retaliated by renewing her own attack on him, mussing up his hair and tickling him.

"Would you like some help?" Bozer asked dryly.

"You can't help, Uncle Bozer," Dennis told him. "I'm dooooomed!"

Dennis flopped back onto the ground, rolling over onto his stomach and laughing. The twins straddled his back, bouncing on him.

"Ride, Dennis!" Theresa demanded. "Give ride!"

"I'd feel sorrier for him, but I haven't had a hug today," MacGyver observed loudly. "I guess eight-year-olds are too big to hug their old dads."

"Uh oh," Dennis said, looking up with his eyes comically wide. "New plan! Hug the old folks, then rides!"

"Old?!" Riley protested.

"By comparison," Dennis said, shrugging and struggling out from under the twins.

"That's harsh, little dude," Billy told him, snickering.

Dennis just gave him a wide, bright grin, running over and throwing his arms around MacGyver. The twins crawled into Riley's lap, cooing over Joshua, while Amanda snuggled into Leanna. Dennis hugged Bozer next, drawing an indignant sound of surprise from him.

"How are you almost as tall as me?!" Bozer asked him.

"I'm just growing and growing, Uncle Bozer," Dennis assured him, grinning.

"You are eight!"

"Yeah, his body is catching up to his brain, finally," MacGyvver said with rueful amusement. "Hurray for growth spurts."

"I'm gonna be talllll, like Cassian!" Dennis predicted, as they finished giving the adults hugs.

"Yes, you are," Leanna agreed, with a knowing smirk.

"Okay, time for rides!" Dennis declared.

"One at a time," MacGyver told them, firmly.

"Well. Yeah," Dennis conceded, laughing. "C'mon, Theresa. Horseback or piggy ride?"

"Horsie!"

She climbed onto his back and Dennis took off, scooting around the yard.

"If I ever get hold of his biological father, I'm going to put my foot so far up his back end, he'll feel constipated for the rest of his life," Riley vowed.

"We're with you," Bozer said, shrugging sadly.

"But, Murdoc said he killed his dad," Leanna reminded them.

"He didn't really. He said killing your own father is therapeutic. He never directly claimed to have killed his."

"He could still be dead, either way," Bozer said, hopefully.

"That would be ironic," Riley said, chuckling. "A killer lying and saying he had killed someone he hadn't."

"It's twisted, so just the sort of thing he would have loved," Leanna agreed.

They watched Dennis finish giving Theresa her ride, while Amanda went off to climb trees. Dennis ran up to them, wincing a bit.

"Uh oh. Don't tell me you finally pulled a muscle or something?" MacGyver asked, warily.

"No way! Too much orange juice at breakfast!" Dennis explained, running into the house.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," MacGyver muttered, slumping back in his chair, while the others laughed.

Dennis ran back out a few minutes later.

"Hey, where's Cassian?" MacGyver asked, before Dennis could head off back into the yard.

"He's on the phone with Jenny," Dennis said, rolling his eyes.

"Dennis!" Amanda cried, interrupting. "Help me!"

Dennis turned, finding Amanda perched high up, on the branch of the Chinese elm tree. She was in the middle of the branch, away from the trunk, looking down at the ground.

"It's okay, Amanda," MacGyver called to her, while Dennis took off towards her. "Back up to the trunk!"

"I can't, Daddy! Dennis!"

"I'm right here," Dennis promised, reaching the tree. "Dad's right. There's plenty of footholds, if you get to the trunk."

Amanda shook her head, violently.

"Okay, how about you jump?" Dennis suggested, calmly. "If you hang from the branch, it won't be so far."

"No. I'm too scared. Come get me, Dennis!" Amanda pleaded.

"Okay, but you'll have to trust me!" Dennis warned.

"I will. Promise!"

Dennis quickly climbed the tree, joining her on the branch.

"If I get in front of you on the branch, can you get back to the trunk?"

"No, don't climb over me!" Amanda said, whimpering.

"Well, there's only one other thing we can do. Grab onto me, then, I'll jump us down."

"It's too far."

"No, it isn't. I've jumped from higher."

"Dennis..."

"You said you would trust me," Dennis reminded her.

"I trust you!" Amanda protested.

"So, jump or trunk?"

"Jump," Amanda decided.

"Get on my back," Dennis instructed, gently.

Amanda obeyed, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. She was choking him just a bit, but he ignored that, focusing on the ground below.

"Close your eyes. We're going on three."

"I get to count!"

"Okay, go for it!"

"One, two, three!" Amanda said, not dragging it out.

Dennis jumped on three, hitting the ground hard, but taking the majority of the shock from the fall. MacGyver just watched, with a type of resigned horror. It amazed him that Dennis had never broken a bone. The boy had never even suffered a sprain! But, Dennis seemed unharmed, hugging his sister and kissing her forehead.

"That boy just laughs at danger," Billy said.

"Yeah, he does that. It's terrifying," MacGyver said, shaking his head.

"And, he's teaching Amanda," Riley said warily.

"She's his willing student in being indestructible...or at least thinking they are."

"He's her hero," Nasha said, voicing what they all knew, coming out with Jack and Matty.

"What did we miss?" Jack asked.

"More death-defying stunts and Dennis being a drama queen for the babies," Leanna explained.

"Business as usual; glad to hear it," Jack said, smirking, before shouting into the yard, "Hey! I know a pack of wild rugrats who need to come give their Uncle Jack hugs!"

The twins took off towards him, with Dennis and Amanda close behind. They thundered towards the adults, laughing and shouting greetings.

"Congratulations, Jack," Cassian said, joining them, at last. "You started a stampede."

"Yeah, well, I've faced worse."

"I haven't!" Cassian protested, laughing, as Teddy plowed into him, watching Theresa run into Nasha's arms.

Jack just laughed at him, swinging Amanda into the air, as Dennis clung to his waist.

June 23rd, 2025 1 P.M.

Andy Lamar took a deep breath, then hit the starter switch on his drone. The drone was beautiful, constructed of contrasting silver and black. The body was divided into light and dark metal diamonds. Six highly-polished blades, three silver and three a dark gray, gleamed around the top of the drone. Andy was proud of his toy, avidly watching the blades begin to twirl.

Andy was only nine, but he'd rewired the drone himself.

Toggling the remote, Andy watched the drone rise, certain it would rise higher and go faster than the manufacturers had intended. The drone rose steadily, reaching, then surpassing, the height recommended on the box. It soared above the slide, catching the attention of other kids playing in the park. Andy's whoop of triumph turned to one of horror, as the drone burst into flames, then plummeted to the ground.

"Man alive!" someone shouted, drawing Andy's attention.

Turning, Andy saw a boy his own age running towards him from the monkey bars. The drone had landed in the sand around the slide, burning stubbornly. The boy reached the drone and began scooping up sand and throwing it over the drone. Shaking himself, Andy ran and joined him, until the fire was out. Andy stared at the drone's smoldering remains in anguished disbelief.

"Well," the other boy said, laughing. "That was kinda awesome."

"I didn't mean to do that!" Andy protested, gaping up at the dark-haired boy.

"I should hope not," he agreed, his dark brown eyes glittering merrily. "It looks expensive."

"It was a birthday present from my Gran," Andy mourned, letting the words pour from him. "I don't get it. I was so careful. I looked up the schematics online. I double-checked everything about the currents. This should have worked!"

"Mmhmm."

Andy glanced up and found Dennis staring gleefully at him.

"What?" he said, warily, waiting to be mocked.

"I'm Dennis MacGyver."

"Andy Lamar."

"I like you," Dennis announced, his eyes bright and his grin a bit too wide.

"Thanks?" Andy said, astonished. "I don't know. Maybe there was a fault in the wires..."

"You remind me of my dad," Dennis said, chuckling fondly.

"I remind you of your dad?!"

"Yeah. He's a genius, too."

Andy blinked, looking down at his smoldering drone.

"I don't feel much like a genius right now."

"Will you get in trouble?"

"Seriously? Gran might understand but my parents are going to flip out!"

"Not if they don't know about it!" Dennis decided. "We better get it fixed."

"I don't have that kind of money!"

"You don't need money. Just come with me," Dennis said, picking up the drone.

"Wait. What? Where?"

"My house!"

"You can fix it?" Andy asked, doubtfully.

"No, but my dad can."

"Telling your dad is the same as telling my parents," Andy huffed.

"No way!" Dennis protested. "My dad won't rat you out! He's amazing. He'll have this fixed in no time and there won't be anything to tell."

"Look, I get that you enjoyed the fireworks and thanks for offering to help. But, I'm not the kind of kid you'd enjoy hanging out with. Okay? I'm a nerd."

"I like nerds!" Dennis told him, unfazed. "Most of my family are nerds, except Uncle Jack, but he's nerd-friendly. You'll fit right in!"

Dennis turned and began walking towards his house. Andy gaped after him for a few moments. He wondered, if there was any way to get his drone back. The answer, he decided, was no. Dennis was only an inch taller than Andy, but he was bulkier and had a brash energy that Andy couldn't match. As he ran to catch up, Andy admitted he really didn't want to just grab his drone and go face his parents.

Andy was curious about Dennis and his supposedly genius dad.

He caught up to Dennis who gave him his bright, strange smile. Andy smiled back, a bit charmed, despite himself. Dennis draped an arm around Andy's shoulders.

"Stop worrying. I got this!"

Andy was sure Dennis had something, but he wasn't sure about not worrying. They reached a wooden house, with a flat roof and slatted, double doors. Dennis ushered Andy inside.

"Da-aaad!" Dennis called out. "Anyone home?!"

"Dennis, use an indoor voice," MacGyver instructed, coming to them from the living room.

"But, Dad, I brought someone home to meet you!"

"Do you know how that sounds?" Andy asked him, exasperated. "We're nine years old and I'm not dating you."

Dennis laughed, delighted.

"Wow," MacGyver said, shaking his head in bemusement. "Hi. I'm Angus MacGyver, Dennis' dad."

"I'm Andy Lamar."

"I haven't seen you around before."

"No, sir. We just moved here from Nebraska."

"Welcome to Los Angeles," MacGyver said, smiling warmly. "What have you got there, Dennis?"

"This is Andy's drone. It accidentally caught on fire. He rewired some bits, but it's probably the manufacturer's fault. We're hoping you can fix it, so his parents don't freak out on him."

MacGyver gave Andy a sympathetic smile that was the polar opposite of his son's eager grin.

"What were you wanting it to do?" MacGyver asked.

"Fly higher and faster."

"Well, come to the table and we'll take a look."

"Great! You two hash it out and I'll sit back and watch you be awesome," Dennis decreed.

"You do that," MacGyver said amused.

They sat at the table, with the boys on either side of MacGyver. Much as Dennis had said, MacGyver and Andy were soon deep in conversation about electronics and engineering. Andy was amazed at MacGyver's skill. He soon had the burnt parts of the drone cut away and a list of what was needed to get it up and running again. Andy looked up to admit MacGyver was a genius and found Dennis staring at him. Dennis was leaning on the table, with his head resting on one hand, studying Andy happily.

"Um...sorry? I get kinda carried away by this stuff," Adam explained.

"I don't mind," Dennis assured him. "I've just never had a best friend before."

"Why not?" Andy asked, astonished.

"I don't know. I just haven't."

MacGyver sighed, trying not to roll his eyes.

"Dennis, why don't you go get one of your own projects to work on? I know this doesn't interest you much."

"Not much," Dennis agreed, standing up. "I'll be back."

MacGyver waited, until he could be sure Dennis was out of earshot, before turning back to Andy.

"So. How long have you known Dennis? He's never mentioned you before."

Andy looked up, surprised to find Dennis' dad looking at him with kind understanding.

"We just met at the park. He seemed really impressed by me setting my drone on fire," Andy said, sighing.

"And, you think he liked that, actually, not you," MacGyver guessed.

"Yeah. I tried to warn him that I'm a nerd," Andy said, then stopped, worried that he might offend his host, but MacGyver just chuckled.

"Well, that certainly got his attention and I won't say he didn't enjoy it. But, once Dennis decides to like someone, he sticks with it. He's a bit over the top, but he's also sincere," MacGyver assured him.

"You're sure he likes me?"

"You couldn't make him stop, if you tried," MacGyver said dryly.

"He's a hurricane," Andy said with blunt honesty, before he could stop himself.

"He can be. Fortunately, he doesn't mind being shut down a bit. Just tell him, when he's overwhelming you. One piece of advice though. You'll have more luck telling him to do things, rather than telling him not to do something."

"You mean, like, if he lied to me, don't tell him to stop lying. Tell him to tell me the truth? Not that I'm saying he lies!" Andy added hastily.

"It's okay. That's a good example. You got it. A well-placed 'chill' or 'tone it down' will also help you a lot."

"What happens if I tell him not to do something?"

"You stand a fifty-fifty chance of being ignored."

Dennis came back in with a large book and some squares of paper.

"Look, Andy! I found this book at a yard sale!"

Dennis placed the book down and Andy blinked in surprise. The book was instructions for making Star Wars characters using origami. Andy had never made anything but a swan, but the book looked well-worn.

"That is cool!"

"I thought you would like it," Dennis said, triumphantly. "All nerds love Star Wars. My Uncle Jack made sure I saw every movie, though he made me start with the fourth."

"Yeah. My dad insisted on that, too," Andy admitted, shaking his head in wonder at adults.

"Well, the prequels..." MacGyver began.

"Are wonderful!" Dennis insisted. "I don't get why people fussed."

"Yeah. It was great seeing Yoda fight. And seeing the Jedi make actual mistakes. It'd be boring, if they were perfect."

"Exactly!"

"Okay, okay," MacGyver surrendered.

"Who's your favorite, Andy? Or we could do a ship!" Dennis invited.

"Is there one for R2-D2?" Andy asked, a bit embarrassed at picking a universal favorite.

"Of course! I love Artoo. He's so funny!" Dennis laughed, turning to the proper page.

Andy changed chairs, moving closer to Dennis, who handed him a sheet of blue paper. MacGyver grinned, contentedly accepting that he would be fixing the drone by himself. That was all right. They'd already discussed where Andy had gone wrong and the boy seemed bright enough to remember. He listened, proud and pleased, as Dennis talked and played with his new friend.

September 15th, 2031. 10 A.M.

Roger struggled to get through the thick crowd of kids. Honestly, it seemed like every kid in the school was shoved into one hallway and moving against him. Fuming, he watched Will Stanton come closer to him, his arms loaded--naturally--with books. Roger plowed ahead, refusing to make room for Will to get by. It'd serve the nerd right, if he ended up dropping his load. The very idea improved Roger's mood. Picking up speed, he headed right for Will, reaching him in front of the staircase to the ground floor. Roger grinned, letting his meaty shoulder collide with Will's far leaner one. The books tumbled to the floor, with a satisfying crack.

Unfortunately, Will fell right along with the books.

Roger watched in disgusted dismay, as Will fell down the stairs. Great. Leave it to nerdboy to lose his footing.

"Roger, you creep!" Yvonne scolded, trying to spot Will at the bottom of the stairs. "What'd you do that for?!"

"It was an accident," Roger complained. "He's always in my way. It's not my fault he's a klutz."

"Yeah, because moving to the side a bit just wasn't an option," Dennis said, with light sarcasm.

"Dennis," Roger swore. "Why do you white knight every twerp in this school?"

"I like them. They're kind of adorable," Dennis explained grinning and stepping into Roger's space. "You're cute, too, in a 'needs smacked in the head' sort of way."

Glaring, Roger followed an impulse, crashing his fist into Dennis' jaw, slamming his head to one side. Dennis looked back to Roger, his eyes wide, then burst out laughing.

"I bet that was satisfying!" Dennis said, smirking. "You've wanted to do that since kindergarten."

"Hit him back, Dennis!" someone urged, swiftly joined by others.

"Nah, he doesn't hit that hard," Dennis reasoned, then laughed again.

"Why don't you go find out if your pet dork is okay?" Roger fumed.

"Now, that is actually a good idea."

Dennis turned and headed down the stairs.

"Oh, Wi-iiillll," Dennis called, once he was halfway down. "How're you doing, buddy?"

Will sighed, cradling his knee against his chest. He was fairly sure it wasn't broken, but the pain was still intense.

"I'll be fine," he assured Dennis.

"He hurt his knee," Simone Adamley tattled.

Dennis reached the bottom of the stairs and took a moment to assess Will. He was still cradling his knee and his jeans were ripped on his left leg. Blood was seeping into the cloth. Dennis shook his head.

"'Will be' and 'are' are different things, my pal. Let's get you to the nurse."

Will nodded, struggling to get to his feet.

"Whoa, whoa, don't do that," Dennis said, laughing.

Stepping forward, he grabbed Will and tossed him across his shoulders.

"Dennis!" Will scolded, then sighed. "Put me down, please? I can walk...or lean against you and hobble."

"Don't be silly. You're bleeding and this is faster."

"You really should put him down, Casper," Cameron Frye said dryly.

"I am. I'm gonna put him down in the nurse's office," Dennis promised.

Dennis turned to head down the hall and found himself staring at an unfamiliar face. A pretty girl with aquamarine blue eyes and strawberry blond hair stood in his path.

"Oh, hello," Dennis purred. "You're new."

"I just transferred from public school."

"How fortunate for both of us! What's your name?"

"Alice Johnson. You?"

"Dennis MacGyver."

"Dennis," Will interrupted, fondly annoyed. "If you're going to carry me off like a neanderthal getting a date, don't stop to flirt while you're at it."

"Ooops," Dennis quipped, beaming. "I'll have to see you later, then."

"I guess so," Alice agreed mildly.

Dennis walked off, heading quickly for the nurse's office, which was fortunately on the same floor. He got there in minutes and deposited Will on the cot.

"Was that really necessary?" Will asked, archly, straightening his glasses.

"Come on. Of course, I was going to help you. You're practically my little brother!"

"Dennis. You've come to every birthday party I've had for the past decade. You know I'm a month older than you!"

"Oh. Yeah. I keep forgetting," Dennis claimed, giggling.

"Sure you do."

"What is going on?" Nurse Conway demanded, coming into the room.

"Will fell down the stairs," Dennis explained.

"Oh, for goodness sake..."

"It wasn't Will's fault. Roger knocked into him, in front of the staircase."

"Will was pushed?!"

"Nah. Roger's an idiot, not a psychopath. I think he just wanted by and wasn't very careful."

A freshman stuck her head in the door.

"Miss McGee wants to see Dennis in her office."

"I'm on my way," Dennis said, cheerfully.

"Bye, Dennis. Thanks," Will said, ruefully.

Dennis gave him a salute, then headed out the door, making his way to the principal's office. He stopped in front of the receptionist, Blanche Hodel.

"Hi, Miss Hodel."

"Oh, Dennis, dear, go right in," Blanche encouraged, clumsily twisting a pencil inside of a sharpener, hissing in alarm, when the pencil slipped.

"Be careful!"

"Oh, I am, dear, I am."

Dennis just smirked, heading for McGee's office. He found her standing beside her desk, going through a sheaf of papers. Spotting him, she tossed the papers on her desk, her hands going to her hips.

"Dennis MacGyver. Sit down."

Dennis obeyed, sprawling in the seat in front of her desk.

"What is this I hear about you tossing a student on your shoulders and carting him through the halls?"

"Will got hurt, so I took him to the nurse."

"What's wrong with your chin?" McGee asked suspiciously.

"Is that a trick question?"

"No, that is not a trick question!"

"Roger doesn't like me," Dennis admitted, then hurriedly continued, when McGee's face turned red, "He punched me."

"Why?" McGee asked, sighing.

Dennis wasn't sure if she meant that philosophically or not, but answered, "I told him he was cute in a 'needs smacked' sort of way."

"Oh, you were provoking him," McGee said, dryly disapproving.

"No, actually. I meant it."

"Good heavens...Dennis, I know you mean well, but this is not acceptable school behavior."

"I'm sorry," Dennis sighed, slumping in his chair.

"Yes, I know," McGee agreed, rolling her eyes and sitting across from him. "From now on, you will get Nurse Conway, when someone is hurt and let her decide how to get the student aid."

"But..."

"But nothing!" she cut him off sharply. "The school does have a wheelchair for such things!"

"Yes, Miss McGee," Dennis reluctantly conceded.

"Good. Now, please. Go to class and try to have a calm, well-ordered day, as opposed to your usual chaos."

"Can do!"

Dennis strolled out of the room, giving Blanche a friendly wave, as he passed her. Obeying, McGee, he hurried to his social studies class, slipping into a desk next to Andy.

"Are you in trouble?"

"Nah, McGee just let off some steam."

12 P.M.

"Alice! Come sit with us!" Simone urged, waving energetically.

Smiling, Alice came over and sat down with her lunch.

"Hi," she greeted warmly.

"Alice, this is Andy, Sloane, and Ferris," Simone introduced.

"I know Sloane and Ferris already. They're in my English class. It's nice to meet you, Andy."

"Good to meet you."

"Andy is Dennis' best friend," Simone said, knowingly.

"Dennis MacGyver?"

"The one and only!" Sloane confirmed, laughing.

"I love the guy, but I'm personally glad there's only one of him," Andy laughed.

"That's mean!" Simone scolded. "He's sweet!"

"In his own, special way," Sloane added, mischievously.

"Oh, c'mon, Sloane! He's positively dreamy..."

"Pass," Sloane said, shrugging. "I like him, but not like that."

"Why? What's wrong with him?" Alice asked.

"Nothing," Ferris assured her. "He really is a great guy. Casper just has a unique way of...well...being. And, not everyone gets it."

"Casper?"

"It's a nickname he picked up in middle school," Andy explained.

"Okay but why Casper?"

"As in 'the Friendly Ghost,'" Sloane explained, wryly. "He does mean well, but he's just a little bit off and sets some people on edge."

"Are we talking about me?" Dennis asked, setting his food down on the table, then pulling up a chair next to Alice.

"We were just talking about you helping Will," Simone said, smiling shyly at him.

"Ah, the news of the hour."

Dennis sat backward on his chair, leaning into Alice's space.

"Hi. We got interrupted earlier."

"Did we?"

"Actually, we were discussing your social flaws," Andy said. "Like, your apparent inability to grant personal space."

"Too close?" Dennis guessed, ruefully.

"Back up about six inches," Andy agreed.

Dennis backed up the recommended amount, grinning.

"Better?" he asked Alice.

"That works. How's Will?" she asked.

"Nothing broken or sprained. He's getting some stitches, but he'll be fine in a week or two."

"Thank goodness," Sloane said, warmly.

"I heard Roger got ISS for a week," Ferris observed.

"Are you going to get in trouble, too?" Alice asked Dennis. "I know in public schools, you can get in trouble for almost any sort of physical contact with other kids, even if you mean well."

"Nah, I'm good. McGee gave me a lecture and sent me on my way."

"She must like you," Alice observed.

"I drive her nuts," Dennis countered, dryly. "She just prefers to let my dad deal with me."

"So, you'll be in trouble with him?" Sloane asked, eyebrows arching, when Dennis and Andy both laughed.

"Dad prefers to manage me in more unique ways. Basically, he'll find a way to channel this into something constructive. I don't know. He might make me take a CPR class or something."

"Really?" Alice said, amazed.

"Yeah. That's how I ended up taking theater. I recited a few too many lines from Macbeth and Hamlet at my history teacher and Dad decided I needed an outlet for my 'melodramatic tendencies,' as he put it."

"The sad part is how well it works," Andy told him, wryly.

"How about you, Ferris? Gotten into any interesting trouble lately?" Dennis asked.

"Yeah, but I didn't get caught," Ferris retorted, grinning.

"Here's to not getting caught!" Dennis laughed, saluting him with his carton of milk.

"Welcome to the madhouse," Sloane whispered to Alice.

"I think I'm going to like it," Alice admitted, her gaze lingering on Dennis.

October 7th. 2 P.M.

Sliding into place next to Andy at their chemistry lab station, Dennis faced their teacher, Mr. Franklin. Placing his backpack on the floor next to his chair, Dennis examined the demonstration Franklin had set up on his lab table.

"What's he gonna do?"

"You're smart enough to know for yourself," Andy pointed out, smirking.

"Nah, I'm good," Dennis retorted. "A B or B plus is just fine. What's he doing?"

"It's called Barking the Dog," Andy said, laughing.

"Whatever that is. Sounds fun! I'm glad I brought my backpack."

"He knows what he's doing."

"So do you!"

"Speakig of, can you come by after supper? We gotta get working on our term project."

"Yeah. Give me until about six-thirty."

"Sure."

"All right, guys and gals," Franklin said. "As Andy just told Dennis, we're going to see a demonstration called Barking the Dog. Using chemicals and a bit of flame, I'm going to send a flare through this tube. This is our introduction to exothermic reactions. I'll do it once, explain it, then we'll see it again. Basically, we're allowing nitrous oxide to react with carbon disulfide."

Franklin added the chemicals to a long tube, then stoppered it, shaking it a bit. When he pulled out a long match, Dennis reached down, unzipping his backpack. Andy gave Dennis' shoulder a small shove, but was ignored. Dennis sat back up with an innocent smile, watching as Franklin sent the match into the tube, aiming it at an angle.

The resulting flare flew away on a draft and landed in a pile of papers on a nearby station.

The kids at the station screamed, as the papers and wooden top caught fire. Franklin gaped, then shook off his shock. He grabbed for his fire extinguisher, accidentally knocking it to the floor. Swearing, Franklin bent and scooped it up, hearing a whooshing sound and cheering. Whirling, he saw Dennis waving a smaller extinguisher back and forth. Franklin watched the last of the flames die, then sighed with relief.

The class burst into applause and Dennis bowed, then sat back down, tucking his extinguisher into his backpack. Franklin eyed the pack, bemused. He looked up and received a cheeky grin from Dennis.

"Why do you have that?" Franklin asked, feeling a small sting of hurt. "Were you told about today's demonstration?"

"Not until Andy mentioned it. I always carry an extinguisher."

"Why?" Franklin asked, mystified.

"Because I'm best friends with him," Dennis replied, jerking his thumb at Andy.

"Leave me out of this," Andy said, sighing noisily.

"Never," Dennis promised.

"All right. On your own time, guys. Now. Exothermic reactions..." Franklin began again, launching into his prepared lecture.

3:30 P.M.

Dennis came out onto the patio and sat next to his dad. A fire was glowing warmly in the pit.

"Hey, Dennis. How was school?"

"Fun! My chemistry teacher has been added to my 'can't be trusted with fire' list."

"What happened?"

"He did a Barking the Dog demonstration. One of the lab stations ended up on fire."

"Oops," MacGyver said with wry humor. "Other than that?"

"That was the highlight. Everything else was just boring routine."

"Don't knock boring routine. It has its good points."

"You're getting old, Dad," Dennis teased. "You look more like Pah-pop every year."

"Are you taking digs at your grandfather?"

"Nah. He's very...distinguished for his age," Dennis said with exaggerated innocence.

"Somehow that didn't sound like a compliment."

"It was for him. No offense, Dad, but you're too pretty to be 'distinguished.'"

"Go!" MacGyver ordered playfully. "Go do homework or something. Behave."

"I can't. I told Andy I'd go over after supper. We're going to work on our science project."

"Well, in that case, be careful!"

"Oh, now, what does that mean?"

"It means, I'm wondering if Andy was involved in that demonstration you mentioned."

"Dissing my best bud?!" Dennis cried out in mock outrage. "How dare you, sir!"

"Dennis. You're the only kid in history to have the fire department on speed dial," MacGyver said, smirking.

Dennis stared at him in disbelief, one eyebrow arched in challenge. Snickering, Dennis pulled his phone from his pocket.

"Yeah? Let's see about that," he challenged, pressing a number in his contacts and putting on the speaker.

"Who are you calling?" MacGyver asked, curiously, chuckling a bit.

"Well, Uncle Bozer, of course," Dennis replied, just as Bozer came on the line.

"Hello?" Bozer asked, sounding distracted.

"Hey, Uncle Bozer! I've got a question for you!" Dennis said gleefully. "What's the phone number to the Mission City fire department?"

"What's WHAT?! Are you in Mission City? Is your dad in Mission City? What's going on?"

"Whoa, calm down, Bozer!" MacGyver said, laughing. "We're both at home. My son is just being a smartass!"

"Oh, okay," Bozer said, relieved. "It's 218-555-6704. Man, I could live to be a hundred and I'd still remember that number!"

MacGyver rolled his eyes.

"Thanks, Bozer."

"You're welcome. What brought this up?"

"Dad was teasing me about Andy and made a comment about the fire department and speed dial."

"Mac, bro, you should've known better," Bozer laughed.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Sorry, I gotta tattle and go. Teddy needs help with his history homework, before I get supper started. Love you guys. Talk to you later."

"Love you, too. Bye, Uncle Bozer," Dennis said, then hung up his phone. "So. Dad. How was your day?"

MacGyver rolled his eyes, laughing.

"Fine, thanks," he answered dryly.

October 27th 11:35 A.M.

Dennis ran steadily around the track, in the front and center of a knot of other students On his left were Dan Jordan and David Greene keeping pace with their football player builds. Yvonne was on his right. Her running skills always impressed Dennis, since he associated her with swimming. Smart and athletic, though, Yvonne seemed equally comfortable on land. Running next to her was Rick Johnson, Alice's older brother and a junior on the track team with Dennis.

"Man, this is the part of P.E. I hate most," David huffed. "I'm one of those people that doesn't want to run, unless I'm being chased."

"I am chasing you," Dennis claimed. "You're just so slow I keep pulling ahead."

"Lucky for you," Dan retorted, grinning. "You'd be in trouble, if you caught him."

"He's in trouble anyways," Yvonne laughed. "Dennis just kinda stays that way."

"That's truer than you know," Dennis boasted.

"Oh, you wish," David scoffed.

"I can vouch for that, actually," Rick said, dryly. "He's dating my sister."

"Yes and you have all of our sympathy," David assured him.

"Well, not Dennis', presumably," Dan corrected.

"Oh no! He has mine, too."

"Tell you what," Yvonne warned. "You better be good to my girl Alice or I'll shove my foot right between your scrawny, white buttocks!"

"Yvonne!" Dennis gasped, laughing. "Have you been checking out my butt?"

"Only to calculate trajectory," she assured him.

Dennis turned and began running backwards, his eyes soft above a wicked grin that curled the corners of his lips.

"Fear not! She is my queen, my light, my enchantress..."

"Dennis, turn around!" David ordered, sharply.

It was too late. The group caught up to a larger knot of less athletic students. Dennis accidentally plowed into a smaller boy, who immediately and irrevocably lost his balance.

"Larry," one of the girls, Hazel, cried out in alarm.

Larry tried to steady himself by grabbing onto Dennis, but his own balance was too precarious. They ended up in a heap, surrounded by other students. Larry lay between Dennis' legs, looking at his crotch in horror. Larry had managed, during the fall, to drag Dennis' sweatpants down to his knees, leaving his white briefs exposed to view. Quickly, Larry scuttled back out of reach.

"I hope a girl never reacts to me that way," Dennis quipped, grinning. "Ladies, if you want to make comparisons, now's your chance!"

"Compare to who?" Larry asked, paling a bit, as everyone else began laughing.

"I dunno. This can't be the only glimpse of male anatomy they'll ever get," Dennis reasoned. "The swim team, maybe? Though, do remember that the water is cold, ladies!"

"And, they still make a better showing than you," Yvonne said sweetly.

"OOoooo," Dennis cooed, laughing. "Well, that's one way to increase attendance at the next swim meet!"

"Dennis. Pull your pants up," Dan ordered, chuckling and shaking his head.

Dennis hopped gracefully back to his feet, obediently re-covering himself. He looked at Larry, who as staring at him with wide eyes, chewing his lower lip.

"Okay, honestly? Relax!" Dennis ordered, smirking. "This was my fault, not yours."

"So, I don't need to run for my life?" Larry said, joking weakly.

"Oh, we all need to do that," Dennis corrected. "Coach is coming."

"Let's go then!" Rick agreed, turning and running, followed quickly by the others.

"Dennis! I saw that! You be more careful, boy!"

Dennis just ran, focusing on not trampling the slower students. Lesson learned.

1 P.M.

Dennis noted the substitute teacher at the front of the room with relief. He'd spent a few too many minutes with Alice at lunch. With luck, he could sneak into a back seat and his tardy wouldn't be noticed.

"Excuse me. What's your name?" the teacher asked, sharply.

No such luck, apparently.

"I'm Dennis MacGyver, sir."

"I'm Mr. Roberts, your teacher today. Come take a seat in the front row, Mr. MacGyver."

"Certainly."

Dennis obeyed, positioning himself in the middle of the front row.

"Did you enjoy your lunch, Mr. MacGyver?"

"Well, the company was better than the food, but yes, thank you. How was yours, Mr. Roberts?"

"Just fine, but I still managed to make here on time."

"Yes, you did," Dennis agreed, mildly. "Well done."

"You seem like a smart guy," Roberts said sarcastically. "Can you work the formula on the board for us?"

Dennis glanced at the board, then shrugged.

"Bits and pieces of it," he answered, making the other students laugh.

"It's no use trying to shame Casper, Mr. Roberts," Jamal said, then snickered. "He doesn't have any."

Dennis laughed loudly, along with the other students.

"I thought your name was Dennis?"

"Casper's his nickname, because he's friendly, helpful," Jamal explained, as Dennis leaned forward, staring intently at Roberts, "and inexplicably terrifying."

Roberts quickly squashed the tiny spark of unease the weird kid provoked in him.

"Guys, guys, we're here for the math. Please," Dennis said, clapping his hands, then extending them expressively toward Roberts, "edify us."

Roberts glared around the room, determined to explain the formula quickly. He could then recover his mental balance, while the students practiced. Fortunately, things went smoothly and the students were soon working quietly. Roberts had another moment of unease, at the end of class, when Dennis stopped at his desk. The young man smiled ruefully down at him.

"I'm sorry for being late and everything, Mr. Roberts."

"That's all right. Just be on time from now on," Roberts said, wanting to forget the entire encounter.

"Sure," Dennis agreed mildly. "See ya."

November 14th. 8:10 A.M.

Patrick weaved around the crowds gathered at the front of the school. He had twenty minutes before class started to hang out with his friends...if he could find them. He was short for his age and slight, so seeing over and around the other students was difficult.
Patrick turned in a circle, as he walked, hoping to spot a friendly face. Instead, he collided with what felt like a wall. On second thought, walls were friendlier, he decided, looking up. An older student, tall and strongly built, towered over him, glaring down for a moment. Seeing Patrick, the young man's glare turned into a smile.

"Well, hey, someone new! What's your name, kid?"

"Hi, I'm Patrick."

"Anyone ever teach you to watch where you're going, Patrick?"

"Oh! Right, yeah. I'm sorry, man."

"Chuck. That's my name. As in, I could 'chuck' you quite a ways, if you made me mad," he said, still grinning, though Patrick noticed something cold in it.

"Yes, you could," Patrick agreed. "I won't do that, I promise. Um. I'm just gonna go..."

Patrick walked off to one side, trying to give Chuck a wide berth. As he passed, Chuck reached out and grabbed Patrick's wrist. A searing pain shot through Patrick's shoulder and arm, as Chuck twisted it back and up, around Patrick's shoulder blades.

Patrick cried out, heavily, "Hey! Please, stop!"

"You're still not watching," Chuck said, laughing a bit. "You didn't watch your own back, this time!"

"I'm sorry! Please!" Patrick pleaded, as his arm began throbbing, the pain increasing as Chuck pulled on it.

"Lesson number one: watch your back. This isn't a kiddie pool. Lesson two: You're a scrawny little fish that needs to stay back from the sharks that rule this place..."

Neither Chuck nor Patrick noticed Dennis standing just close enough to hear Patrick's cries of pain. The site of Chuck twisting the smaller boy's arm filled him with disgust. Really? Obeying a deep impulse, Dennis shoved his anger aside, walking purposefully towards them, maneuvering himself to come up behind Chuck. Reaching him, Dennis drove his fist in a short, hard jab directly into the site of Chuck's kidney.

It was Chuck's turn to scream.

Immediately releasing Patrick, as Dennis had wanted, Chuck fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around his waist. Several people nearby gasped in shock, while Patrick just backed away, a bit too scared to assume the new guy was actually helping.

"You're not a shark, Chuck," Dennis told him, a slight smirk lifting the corners of his mouth. "You're a mosquito...a bad-tempered one."

Rick and David came up, following after Dennis, who had been talking with them.

"This bastard got me right in the kidney," Chuck complained. "I'm gonna be pissing blood for a week!"

"Probably, but you should have taken your own advice. You said something about watching your back, right?"

"Dennis," David scolded. "Man, you can't do that. Even schoolyard fights have rules!"

Dennis gave a disbelieving laugh.

"Rules. Rules are for games," Dennis scoffed, then continued, his eyes flat and cold, his words coming out soft and slow, "I wasn't playing."

Patrick stood silent, miserable and embarrassed. His arm was still throbbing horribly, though the shooting pains had stopped. Dennis turned his dark eyes on him and Patrick gave him a weak grin.

"Hi. I'm Patrick. Um. Thanks?"

"Go to the nurse, Patrick," Dennis directed him, firmly. "If your arm is injured, you don't want to make it worse."

"Oh, right. Okay," Patrick agreed, turning to walk towards the school, but then stopped, wincing.

Most of the faces in the crowd were neutral. Some looked pleased. A small number looked angry, glaring at him and Dennis. Patrick started violently, when a hand landed on his uninjured shoulder.

"Hey, it's okay," Rick assured him. "I'll make sure no one bothers you on the way to the nurse."

"Thanks," Patrick repeated, sadly, wondering how his day had come to this.

"McGee's going to hear about this, you know," David told Dennis, a bit ruefully.

"I'm okay with that," Dennis said, unconcerned. "I guess I should get to class in the meantime."

"And start watching your own back," Chuck threatened, struggling to his feet.

"I always do, Chuck," Dennis promised.

"Just remember Dennis has friends, too. How much trouble are yours going to want?" David retorted, angrily. "You could have broken that kid's arm."

"I was just rough-housing a bit," Chuck argued, before storming off.

"Dennis..."

"I don't care, David. I just don't," Dennis told him, calmly. "I don't care about fighting rules or school rules or whatever. Someone had to do something. Whatever happens next, I can deal with it."

"I don't like what you did," David repeated, then sighed. "But, I do understand. I hope Coach and McGee go easy on you."

"I appreciate it. I'm only worried about my parents. I don't think they're going to like this, either."

3:40 P.M.

Dennis hung his coat and backpack up in the hall closet, sighing with relief that the day was mostly over.

"Dennis. Come into the kitchen, please."

Grimacing, Dennis obeyed, finding Nasha sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by student papers.

"Come sit beside me, darling," she encouraged.

"Hi, Mom," Dennis greeted, heavily, sitting down.

"You had a rough day, it seems."

"I guess McGee called you, huh?"

"You know she did. Tell me your side of things."

"I was talking with my friends and I heard some kid screaming..."

"Some kid?"

"His name's Patrick and I never laid eyes on him, before this morning."

"Ah. All right, go on."

"I turned and saw Chuck twisting his arm, like he was trying to remove the wing from a chicken. The kid was begging him to stop. He didn't. So I made him."

"A kidney punch is fairly brutal."

"Yeah."

"Chuck didn't break Patrick's arm, but he almost did. Patrick has a sprained shoulder and possibly some muscle strain. His entire shoulder is bruised fairly badly."

Dennis blinked.

"Are you saying I was right?"

"I'm not sure, to be honest. Were there any teachers around?"

"No, and I didn't have time to go find one," Dennis huffed, ignoring the fact that the thought had never even occurred to him.

"Patrick certainly needed someone to help him. We've taught you that the point of being strong is to protect the weak."

"Yeah."

"So. Do you think what you did was right?"

"I don't know about right. I think it was necessary..."

"But?"

"I don't like, um," Dennis began, then stopped. "Mom. I was angry, at first. But, when I was walking toward Chuck...I didn't feel anything. Nothing. Everything became really clear and cold. Like, I hollowed myself out. I wasn't thinking about Patrick or helping him. I was calculating just how hard I needed to hit Chuck to make him let go, without hurting him too badly."

"So, you did spare a thought for him."

"No. I wasn't worried about Chuck. I just didn't want to make anyone feel sorry for him. I wanted...I want them angry at him. But, that cold feeling bothered me."

"Well, that's something you can discuss more with your father or Jack. But, you always get to choose, darling. That coldness is only wrong, if you use it for wrong things."

"Is it normal?" Dennis asked, frowning thoughtfully.

"Does it matter?" Nasha asked, giving a startled laugh. "Since when did you worry about normal? Normal isn't always best."

"I don't," Dennis admitted, smiling and shrugging. "So. Am I in a lot of trouble?"

"You father and I will discuss it, but...probably not. Just don't make a habit of it."

"I won't," Dennis promised, leaning over to kiss Nasha's cheek. "Thanks, Mom."

"We love you, darling, remember that."

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