Mac pressed his coms, voice hushed. "I don't even know what I'm going to say to him, or how to feel about seeing him again."

Jack hummed a little, thinking. "Well, he sent you all those clues to find him. He must want you in his life at least. That's good."

Mac nodded and walked towards the old, abandoned, laboratory, that all the clues had lead him to. "Well, I guess I'm about to find out. Oh, and when I get in there-"

Jack interrupted. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Coms off, so you can have some catching up with your old man. I won't evedrop, I just want to make sure you're safe, and that this little reunion isn't gonna be crashed by you know who."

Mac didn't even want to think about that; thankfully, Jack had, and was waiting in a secure location a few blocks away, listening in with Riley tracking Mac's phone, just in case.

He approached the doors, and took a deep breath, before pushing through them, heading to the room that his father's last message indicated.

Only, when he got in there, it wasn't his father he was greeted with, but Murdoc.

"Why hello, MacGyver. How lovely to see you again."

All of Macs nerves about seeing his dad, turned to rage at the man in front of him, so casually smiling.

"Murdoc. What did you do? Where's my father?"

The man laughed, delighted; which only made Mac angrier. "Oh, I didn't do anything to him! That's the best part! Did you really think he wanted to reunite with the son he left so long ago? Did you think he had a reason? Some grand purpose, that would make what he did forgivable?"

Mac's heart sank, making him feel sick as he realised. "He...he didn't send any of those clues."

Murdoc shook his head, relishing in the look of despair on the blondes face.

"You did."

"That's right! You finally figured it out! To be honest, I thought you would catch on a little faster, but I guess your desperation to fill that father sized hole inside you, clouded your usually sharp mind. I'd almost be disappointed, if this next part wasn't going to be so much fun."

He stepped towards Mac, those gloved fingers stretched out like a child grabbing for their new toy. MacGyver tried to run back out, only to find the glass doors, sealed shut, and lifted his hand to his coms instead.

"Jack! It's a trap! It was Murdoc the whole time!"

Murdoc laughed again, as Mac pounded on the door, in frustration, before looking for the locking mechanism.

"Oh, you think I'm stupid enough to think you came here without precautions. I know you have your guard dog, and his darling pseudo daughter out there, waiting for you. But what did you say to them, before you came in?"

Mac closed his eyes, as he realised how stupid he'd been. Murdoc continued, as Mac's hands began to fly over the doors, trying to find a way out, as Murdoc so calmly spoke.

"Ah, yes. You told them you would be shutting off your coms. Now, that I've disabled them, they'll think nothing is wrong. They'll be sitting out there, in that little empty building they're using to stay close to you, thinking that you are reuniting with your long lost father. Oh, MacGyver, they're not even close enough to hear you scream."

Mac couldn't open the door, and he couldn't ask for help, and for some reason it was getting hard to keep his eyes open. He turned, only to see Murdoc smiling behind a gas mask he had on.

"Go to sleep, Angus. It'll all be so much worse when you wake up, and I'm going to enjoy every minute of it."

Smoke was hissing out of a container sitting on a bench behind him, and Mac felt his mind slowly slipping, muscles becoming weak and wobbly, from the sedatives filling the room.

Mac watched Murdoc come closer, hands fumbling for something to use to fight him off, but the lab was stripped bare, and it was becoming too hard to think. His hands slipped from the table, and he fell to his knees, panting, as he blinked heavily at the figure coming closer.

"Why?"

Murdoc looked offended. "Why? Because, Dear Angus MacGyver, there is no one more fun to toy with, than you."

Mac's head spun and he fell to the floor; Murdocs smug grin, the last thing he saw before his eyes closed.

…

"Wakey wakey!" A hot flash of pain, jolted Mac from his sleep, and he let out a cry of pain before clamping down on it.

Murdoc pulled the stun gun away from Macs side, watching him pant and look around in confusion.

They were in a different room, and probably a different building altogether. Mac looked around but didn't see anything he recognized; he didn't even know how much time had passed.

Murdoc looked pleased with himself. "Don't worry. We aren't anywhere near that old lab, and your friends have no idea where you are. Or maybe you should be concerned. It was rather easy to sneak you out, since they didn't know about the little secret tunnel I'd built. And now, we are far enough away, that not even you know where we are."

Mac tried not to show how afraid he was, as he looked down at himself. He was tied to a chair, but instead of handcuffs, this time, it was leather straps, that he couldn't pick, and couldn't wriggle from. They were so tight, his hands were already turning red from the lack of circulation.

Murdoc tapped the IV in Mac's arm, making him wince. "Just like old times, huh? Only this time, I'm not going to let you escape. No, I think we'll finish off what we started down in those tunnels."

Mac looked around him as much as he could, clenching his teeth when the movement made his head spin. He was in a room, that was dark, and cold, with only harsh lights illuminating the tables that Murdoc had laid out. There was a wall covered in little doors, like...he was in a morgue.

Murdoc followed his eyes. "Have you figured it out yet? Don't worry, there aren't any dead bodies in there; I checked. Although that may have been fun. Maybe once I finish with you, I'll leave you in one of those draws for your friends to find."

Mac shivered, as Mudrock played with the tools he had spread out on the bench.

"Don't do this."

The man turned, frowning. "Pleading? That doesnt sound like you."

Mac's eyes blinked slowly, as he replied, tugging uselessly at his restraints. "You don't have anything to gain from hurting me. You know I won't tell you where your son is."

Murdoc turned back to his work. "Hmm, I think I could persuade you."

"I don't even know where he is. They move him around for security's sake, why would they keep me up to date? Why would I need to know where he's being held?"

Even if he did know, he wouldn't tell Murdoc, no matter what he did, but if he could help it, he'd rather not be tortured. If he could just figure out how to break free, or how to stall long enough that Jack and the others had time to find him, he might be okay.

Murdoc picked up a knife and examined it in the glaring light. "I think you'll tell me whatever comes to that brilliant mind of yours, once I introduce you to some of my toys"

Mac had been in some tight spots before, had even been tortured before, but he always knew Jack was coming for him, and he always had a plan. But there wasn't much he could do this time, and it was Murdoc. Murdoc wasn't some idiot terrorist, or wannabe drug lord that didn't know the difference between fake blood and real blood. This was his nemesis, and he was going to kill him.

It was hard to think with the drugs slowing him down, and the knowledge that his father had never been trying to find him. It clouded his brain and kept him from thinking of any plans to escape.

The hitman put his knife down, picking up some knuckle dusters instead, and slipping them on as he faced Mac.

"Do you know what's really funny about the whole search for your father, MacGyver?"

His gait was slow as he approached, and Mac squirmed in his chair a little, wary.

He gave no warning, before he threw his fist at the blondes face, making his head snap to the side as the metal covered knuckles slammed into his jaw.

Mac's vision went black, as he squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, his head pounding as his face throbbed. He blinked his eyes open, and turned back to Murdoc as the man continued on with his speech.

"It didn't take much to convince you it was him."

He threw his fist again, striking Mac across the face, and eliciting a grunt of pain from him. Mac pulled his eyes open as he lifted his face again, spitting out the blood that had exploded in his mouth at the impact.

Murdoc was sneering. "You wanted to believe it was him so badly, that you didn't even consider that it could have been someone else."

Murdoc punched Mac again, in the side this time. It knocked the air out of him, and left him aching and panting in his chair, head lolling forward on his chest, as he grew dizzier.

Murdoc shuffled around, and Mac could hear metal clanking as he dropped the knuckle dusters on the bench, before he was dragging something else over to him.

The hits to the face, with the drug in his system, and the hit to his side, had made Mac's head spin, and he tried to get it to stop so he could just figure out what he was going to do.

If he could get his hands on something to cut the restraints with, he might be able to break free. But he didn't have much to work with. If he could just concentrate, without the drugs making his thoughts so wobbly.

Murdoc was making more noise, something like water, but Mac didn't open his eyes to check. He could use the needle from his arm, but it wasn't long enough to reach the straps while he was holding it, and it wouldn't cut through the straps very well.

Murdoc was speaking again, and Mac groaned as if bored of it. "You were so excited to see your father again. I could see it on your face when you walked into that lab. Your hope and anticipation, your nerves. I was almost offended that you weren't excited to see me."

Mac felt fingers dig into his hair, before Murdoc gripped it and yanked his head back, to see his sadistic smile hanging over him. "What do you say, Angus? Are you happy to see me?"

A wet towel slapped across Mac's skin as it was wrapped around his face, and he immediately began to struggle, pulling at the straps so hard he could feel them cutting into his skin.

With his legs free, he was able to kick, in panic, as Murdoc poured water over his face, making his chest heave painfully as he was forced to experience the feeling of drowning.

The bruises on his face protested the harsh treatment, and his side ached from the hit he'd received, throbbing more each time his chest seized with a breath it so badly needed; but it was all overshadowed by the burning in his lungs, and that awful sensation of drowning.

When the towel finally came off, Mac was sputtering and coughing; shaking all over as he sucked in grateful lungfuls of air.

Panic ran through him a mile a minute, heart hammering in his chest, as the coughing continued. But he saw something.

Murdoc was carrying a knife on his hip, strapped to his belt. If he could just get his fingers around it, he could use it to cut the straps around his wrists.

He just needed Murdoc close enough.

"You were so relentless is your search. Hopping around the globe, jumping on any lead you could catch. It would be touching if your dear old dad actually cared." Murdoc was refilling his bucket, and Mac shivered, pulling at his bindings as hard as he could.

"No." He didn't want that towel back over his head.

The contract killer pretended to think, as he turned around, water sloshing over the side of the bucket to slap onto the floor.

"I wonder what he would have done with your letter, if one of my friends hadn't intercepted it for me."

Mac struggled harder as he came closer, trying to reign in his panic. "Don't."

Murdoc ignored his request, and gripped his hair again, yanking his head back and placing the towel back over his face.

Mac kicked at the floor, and yanked his restraints so hard he felt his skin tear across his left wrist. It was agony, feeling as if your lungs were filling with water, as if you were drowning, and not be able to move or do anything about it.

Mac usually had all his emotions locked tight. He didn't lose his temper, and his fear was always stored away till he'd resolved whatever issue was casing it, but when Murdoc finally took that towel away, Mac cried.

Tears fell down his, already wet, face, as he tried to regain his breath. Murdoc watched him cough and drag in laboured lungfuls of air, with an amused grin.

"Still don't know where my son is?"

Mac looked up at him, as his chest heaved painfully, and he tried to bring Jacks face to his mind; because if he wanted Murdoc close enough to take the knife from his belt, he'd need to rile him up. And there was no one that did that better than Jack Dalton.

His voice was shaking, but it didn't take the arrogance from his tone. "Wherever he is, he's safe from you. What kind of father could you even be to him? What? Would you teach him how to hunt people? Help him slit his first throat?"

Murdocs face was like slate, smooth and cold, as he watched Mac.

"I wonder if you'll tell him the story you told me. About the day he was born, and what you did to his mother? I wonder what his face would look like after hearing th-"

Murdoc was across the room in a second, hands wrapped around Macs throat and squeezing tight. Mac choked at the pressure, but Murdoc was close enough.

He was also furious. "He is my son! And unless you are telling me where to find him, I'd suggest you keep your thoughts to yourself."

Macs fingers had a tenuous grip on the knife, and he knew he just needed more time, or for Murdoc to get a little closer.

His words came as raspy whispers, forcing them out despite the hand squeezing the life out of them. "He'd...hate...you."

Murdoc pressed his face close to Mac's, his fingers squeezing ever tighter, making Mac gag, and his eyes roll upwards. But his fingers had the knife, and he slipped it under his palm. It was small enough to hide from Murdoc's view, and he finally felt a little hope flicker into his aching chest.

If only he could breathe.

Murdoc stared at Macs purpling face, the way his eyes rolled, as his body threatened to pass out from the lack of oxygen. He could feel the agents pulse beating, quick, under his hand; and waited just a few more moments before letting go and stepping back.

He wanted him to suffer a little longer.

Mac dragged in whistling gasps, as the black spots in his vision turned into bursts of color as his brain soaked up all the air it could. His headache was worse, and his hacking cough rattled his chest, but the plan had worked.

He carefully shifted the knife, making sure the blade was pressed against the strap, and began moving the knife slightly. He couldn't move it too much or too fast, in case Murdoc saw it, and it was agony having to work so slow.

Thankfully, Murdoc was too preoccupied with his rage and hatred for the blonde in front of him to notice his missing knife.

He scowled, feigning casualty, but Mac could see how worked up he was.

"You worked so hard to find him, to what? Make up for lost time? Ask him why he left you?"

Mac shook his head, wishing he could block out that annoying , unrelenting voice; but it only got louder.

"I can solve that one for you! He escaped you! I can't believe you thought he would have a legitimate reason for leaving, some secret purpose that forced him to abandon his child. But he didn't! He wasn't anyone special, MacGyver. He was just some asshole that didn't want to stay."

Mac grit his teeth, moving the knife faster. Murdoc grabbed the stun gun from the bench again, and stormed back to his captive.

"His wife died, and he was stuck with a kid that he didn't want!"

The stun gun was pressed to Macs side, making him shake all over, teeth clattering against each other, as he let out a groan of pain.

Murdoc tased him again, pressing the stun gun harder into Macs side, before throwing it to the ground, annoyed. Mac kept the knife moving, feeling the leather split beneath the blade as he spat out his words.

"Cassian has a monster for a father. He's not even going to want to look at you!"

Murdoc may have thought that feelings didn't bother him, but Macs arrogance certainly pissed him off, and he grabbed his knuckle dusters from the bench and threw a punch at Macs ribs.

The leather split further as Mac coughed, feeling one of his ribs break under Murdocs fist, before he was left dazed from another punch to the face.

His head throbbed, with what was definitely a concussion, and he let out a moan as the lights burned his eyes.

Murdocs voice was getting angrier and less stable the longer their dance went on, but Mac needed to stall for just a little longer. His voice was a yell, harsh and taunting; and Mac couldn't block it out.

"Your father doesnt have any kind of noble excuses for why he left! He just didn't love you! All those smarts and little Angus MacGyver still couldn't make his Daddy care enough to stick around."

Mac had never wanted to kill anyone before, but in that moment, he wanted to kill Murdoc more than anything else in the world.

He lunged forward in his chair, screaming at the man in front of him, as the straps held him to his seat. The knife was moving faster, almost through the band keeping him to the chair.

"I HATE YOU!" His face was bright red, blood smeared over his mouth from the beatings, and he knew he must have looked insane, but he didn't care.

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

Murdoc slammed his hand down on the bench, on the other side of the room, as he picked out a new tool to torture his toy with. His eyes were lit with rage.

"You wouldn't hurt a fly, boy scout! But I will! I'm going to beat you, and cut at you, until there's nothing left! They won't have anything but mince meat to put in the ground, AND YOU HAVE NO PARENTS LEFT TO CARE!"

The strap snapped. As did Mac.

Within the same second, Mac had broken his hand free, and yanked at the buckle on the other, releasing it. And then he was flying across the room, at Murdoc.

He tackled him, knocking over the table of tools, with as crash, and landing on top of his attacker.

All the rage that had been building up inside him, all the despair, all the pent up, mixed up, emotions he had for his father, and for the game that Murdoc had played with him, came out in that moment.

Tears fell down his cheeks, as he slammed his fists over and over into Murdocs face, watching as blood appeared beneath his knuckles. But Murdoc was laughing, and Mac couldn't stand to hear it anymore.

His bloodied hands found the hitman's throat, and he squeezed with everything he had, until every sound from the bastards throat was strangled into silence.

He squeezed until that face grew purple, words out of his mouth before he realised he was saying them. "I hate you. I hate you." They wouldn't stop, and neither would he.

He watched as Murdoc's face grew puffed, his hands still pressing against Mac's chest in an attempt to stop him, before they fell limp to the floor. Mac watched as Murdoc's eyes rolled up into his head, and closed. And only then did he stop.

It was as if a spell had been broken, and he gasped, as he pulled his hands away and scrambled backwards across the floor, away from the...the body.

He was shaking all over, and every part of him hurt, as he pressed himself to the wall, curling his legs to his chest, and covering his face with his hands. "Oh god, what did I do?"

It was all too much. Too much had happened, and the drugs had been making it hard to think, and he'd lost his temper. Oh god, he'd killed someone with his bare hands.

His arm stung, from where the IV had been ripped out when he'd attacked Murdoc, but he didn't even notice the blood dripping from his torn skin, as he stared at the unmoving form of Murdoc.

It was so quiet, without the hitman's cruel voice; the only thing breaking the silence, was Mac's own heaving breaths. But then he heard something else.

There were shuffling feet, coming towards him from behind the rooms only door. Lots of shuffling feet. Then there was a bang, as the door was kicked in, and the room exploded with sound and black clad bodies.

The agents all stormed in, guns raised and ready, but the first through was the only person that Mac wanted to see.

Jack spotted him, and immediately ran over, leaving the other beaten form to the rest of the team.

"Mac!" His eyes were wide as he took in the kids appearance, heart hammering in his chest as he crouched beside the trembling agent.

Mac was drenched, clothes soaked through and sticking to him, but it did nothing to cover up the tears over his face, and the blood over his lip, and cheek. He was bruised and battered to hell, and his every breath came as a laboured wheeze, probably due to the fact that he had heavy red handprints wrapped around his throat, but he was alive and conscious.

He lifted a hand to his coms. "I found him, Matty. He's alive."

Jacks hands hovered over him, not knowing where to touch, as Mac blinked up at him. "Jack?"

He nodded, settling for placing his palm on the blondes chest, to feel his rapid heartbeat, racing away. He kept his voice quiet, as the agents around him worked.

Despite the noise, and now crowded room, it felt as if it were just them there.

"Yeah, I'm here. I found you, Mac. We're gonna get you some help, all right? Try not to move."

He turned to call for a medic, but was stopped by Macs weak fingers latching onto his vest, and he turned back to see Mac's eyes filling with tears, his lip wobbling.

"You came for me?"

Jacks heart broke a little in his chest. He had never seen the kid so scared in all his life. He frowned, confused at Macs words, and the way that they had been phrased as a question.

"Of course I did! I would never, ever leave you, Mac. You know that. I'm always going to find you."

Mac's face crumpled, and he tugged on Jacks vest, as he began to sob, eyes squeezing shut. "It was him the whole time. He was just toying with me. My dad was never sending me a message. He just...left, and he doesnt care."

Jack scooted forward and pulled the kid to his chest, as gently as he could, feeling himself start to choke up, as he held the younger agent to his chest.

Mac buried himself in Jacks neck, words muffled. "I thought I was going to die. Alone."

Jack did his best to shove his emotions down, not having the time to cry. "Aw, Mac I'm so sorry. I'm here now, I got you. You aren't alone."

Mac squeezed him tighter. "I killed him."

Jack frowned, and looked towards Murdocs form on the ground, watching as agents surrounded him. But their guns were still trained on him, and one of them was calling it in to Matty, back at the phoenix.

He shook his head, gently squeezing the back of his partners neck. "I wish you had, brother, but no such luck. He's alive, Mac. You didn't kill anyone."

Mac peeked over Jacks shoulder, watching carefully until he could see the slow, strained rise and fall of the other man's chest.

Mac was so relieved, he slumped into Jacks hold, too tired to hold himself up anymore. His head was spinning, and he was so tired. He'd had a long day, he deserved a rest.

Jack shifted, pulling Mac into his arms, so that he was laying in his hold. His voice was frantic. "Mac? Stay with me, buddy."

Mac blinked up at his face, as he turned and shouted at someone. "I need a medic in here, now!"

It was so noisy, and Mac didn't want to listen to it anymore, but he liked Jacks voice. He tried to hold on to it.

"Don't do this to me, Mac. Don't you do this to me! Stay awake, now. You know the drill. We gotta get you checked out, so, I can take you home. I gotta take you home, Mac, I promised Bozer and Riley, and Matty that I'd get you back safe."

Mac was too tired to move, but one of his hands still lingered on Jacks vest, and he finally felt safe.

Jack called his name, and yelled for the medics, as Mac's eyes slipped closed.

…..

Jack rode with him in the ambulance. He watched as they cut Mac's shirt off, and exposed the burns and bruises. They called out to each other, about the kids broken ribs, his low heart rate and blood pressure, the way he was struggling to breathe. Jack just kept staring at those hands, that had saved him too many times to count, and the way that they were curled so delicately on the gurney.

He wanted to take one of those hands and hold it, but couldn't seem to move an inch until they arrived.

They took Mac away to be treated, as soon as they arrived at the phoenix foundation, and he was left to find his team.

Matty, Riley, and Bozer, were already there, in the waiting room of the medical wing, and they all stood as he walked through to greet them.

Except he didn't know what to say. Rileys face was streaked with tears, her hand at her mouth, her other arm wrapped around herself. Bozer looked as if he were holding his breath, cheeks wet like Rileys. And Matty looked more worried than Jack had ever seen her.

He walked over, feeling like a marionette; legs stiff and slow, as he made his way to his team, his family, and tried to think of a way to explain.

"He's...Oh god."

His knees wobbled, and his own tears spilled over as Riley directed him to a seat, kneeling in front of him as he sat.

"Is he alive?"

He nodded, hands shaking so badly he could barely hold them to his face as he tried to get his words out. He felt Mattys hand on his knee.

"Murdoc was torturing him. I found him curled up against the wall, shaking like a leaf, and dammit, he looked half dead. It was so bad. He collapsed soon after I got there, I held him and...we almost lost him. I almost lost him."

Riley let out a whimper, and Jack pulled his hands away from his eyes, to see Bozer pulling Riley into his arms as they both cried. Matty looked on the verge of tears, herself, as Jack continued.

"Murdoc broke him, Matty. He was...it was like he was barely there. What are we gonna do?"

Matty wiped her fingers across Jacks cheek as he heaved in a shaky breath. Her voice quivered as she spoke. "We'll take care of him, Jack. You brought him back, just like you always do. He'll be okay."

Jack could only pray she was right, because he didn't know what he would do if he wasn't.

…..

Jack watched the kid stare out the window, laying in the same hospital bed he'd been in for days. He was quieter than usual, and not just because of his healing throat; which worried Jack.

Too much of Mac was black and blue, and if Murdoc wasn't hanging onto life by a thread, Jack knew he'd be splitting his knuckles over the bastards face.

He lifted a hand, to gently brush that blonde hair away from the agent's eyes, his voice soft. "Hey, don't go disappearing into that head of yours. We talked about this, you need to tell me what's going on with you."

Mac looked down at his hands in his lap, fiddling with the pulse oximeter on his finger. His voice was still rough, as the bruises around his neck healed. "I was stupid to think that my dad was the one leaving those messages and clues."

Jack frowned. "You are the farthest thing from stupid, and don't forget, slick, we were all fooled too." He looked over the deep purples staining Mac's face, and tapped a finger under the agents chin.

"He messed you up good, Mac. But it wasn't your fault." They both knew that Jack was talking about both physically and mentally, messed up. But Mac shook his head, gently because concussions sucked, and looked out the window again; avoiding his partners gaze.

"Who's is it then?"

Jack shrugged. "Mine."

Mac frowned, turning to him, looking almost mad. "No, it's not!"

Jack made a face, like it was obvious. "Yeah it is, bro. I'm the one that made you write that letter in the first place, and then I wasn't there to stop Murdoc from taking you, and I only barely got you back in one piece. This one is on me. And for that I'm sorry."

Mac shifted a little in his bed, getting frustrated. "No, don't be sorry, because it's not your fault. There's no way you could have known if it was my dad or not, because you've never even met him. And you were there for me, but I told you I was going to turn the coms off, so you didn't even know I was in trouble. And you did save me. Like always."

Jack had his quietly smug face on now, and Mac realised what he'd walked into.

"And you haven't spoken to your dad since you were twelve, you couldn't have known it wasn't him. There is no shame in loving your family, and wanting to do all you can to be with them. That's the reason that I got you back, and why the rest of our little wolf pack, are sleeping in the next room, right now. Because we love you, and there ain't nothing we wouldn't do for you."

Mac watched Jacks sincere face, and wiped a hand over his eyes, before he could start crying again. Jack placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Recovering from an ordeal like this, is going to take a while; and I'm not just talking about the physical, I'm also talking the mental. Murdoc really messed with you, but I need you to understand that, while it might take a little bit of time and patience, we are all gonna be right here with you. We ain't leaving you, and I promise that we never will."

Macs eyes misted over, and he sniffed, as he tugged on Jacks shirt, pulling him closer for a hug.

"Thanks Jack. I love you, too."

Mac held him tight, feeling a little bit better already. Because, while he may not have a father, he had a Jack Dalton, and a Matty, and a Riley, and a Bozer; and he knew he'd never have to follow clues or roam around the globe to find them. And for that, he considered himself pretty damn lucky.