MacGyver took a moment to digest what was going on. He turned and walked to the office window, looking outside to the panoramic view of the capital. Tall buildings filled the skyline, ruining the stereotypical mind's image of a Middle Eastern country. The heavens, though, were what everyone expected out here – a perfect unmarked crystal blue.

He turned back to Pete and Sam, a small smile creeping back onto his features. "Y'know, the perfect way to deal with someone like this is to give them a taste of their own medicine?"

Pete frowned, closely followed by Sam. "I don't understand?" He admitted.

Mac moved back to his old friend's' huge desk and leaned on it. "Can you get me any files on Rebecca Dunlevy? Personal stuff?"

Pete still looked bewildered, but pressed a button on his phone and asked his secretary to bring up any information she could on Phoenix's computer system and print it. Twenty minutes later, she knocked on the door, entered and placed a small manila folder in front of Pete before retreating.

It had been hastily prepared, and wasn't in Braille.

Pete passed it over to MacGyver. "This is your idea, whatever it is, care to do the honors?"

Mac read the first couple of pages silently and stopped. "This will work," he said nodding his head. "But I'm going to need a partner in crime to deal with things this end, while I go talk to Dunlevy…"

"Partner in crime for what?" Both Pete and Sam chimed.

"Oh, just kidnapping Rebecca's teenage son and holding him for a ransom she has to pay personally, on American soil." Mac shrugged. "I'm guessing she won't like a taste of her own medicine, but seeing as he's at an expensive school in Boston she won't have much choice. From her file, he's the only thing she's ever cared about."

Pete's face twisted into despair, and he rubbed at his brow. "Mac, you know the penalty for kidnapping, even if it is to catch a killer. I can't let you do this!" He rubbed at his forehead as he shook it, but MacGyver was adamant.

"Trust me, Pete, have I ever done anything you wouldn't do?" Mac waited patiently for an answer.

Pete winced. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

...

One week later

Rebecca Dunlevy's' Villa

Main Gate

MacGyver pulled the hire car to a stop and quickly glanced at himself in the rearview mirror. The image that glared back at him wore glasses, and dressed like a geek – a somewhat older version of Dexter Fillmore, but it was still recognizable as the man that had been here before. He wanted Dunlevy to remember him from that night, and remember sending him to the desert to die.

Not that MacGyver intended revenge, but he needed Rebecca to think otherwise.

A guard stepped up to the car and tapped on his window. MacGyver lowered it. "I believe your boss is expecting me. It's about Harry."

The security man's complexion seemed to pale and he waved for a second man to open the gate. They directed MacGyver to a parking spot, and then moved into step beside him to enter the villa.

Once inside, MacGyver found himself being frisked with a metal detector before finally being ushered into a huge air conditioned lounge.

Dunlevy was waiting, her face expressionless, even though Mac knew she was probably terrified inside – terrified of what he would do to her son, Harry James Dunlevy if she didn't follow his direct instructions.

"What do you want?" Rebecca asked, her voice cracking just a touch as she spoke.

"I think you know what I'm here for." MacGyver chose his words carefully. "I assume you've watched the video?"

Rebecca picked up a remote and pressed a button. A huge screen magically appeared from the edge of the couch she was sitting across from and images and sound blurted from it with a crackle, like the footage had been homemade and the sound was not quite right.

Sam appeared first, and then he seemed to drag another man into the frame. On closer inspection, the second person appeared no more than a teenager, and his smile seemed false.

"Mom…I need you to come out here. I need you to bring four million dollars in person or I'm going to have a big problem. As in BIG problem. I hope you understand, it has to be you, and it has to be four million…" Harry's voice quivered and he looked over to Sam as if he was being prompted.

Sam stepped forwards, taking up the whole of the screen. "That's right Mrs. Dunlevy…we really need you here, or else…"

The screen went blank and Rebecca switched off the video recorder. "I could just pay you now, and you set him free," she cooed. "Why do I need to go in person?"

MacGyver smiled and pulled off his glasses. "We know who you are – and that means we also know what you're capable of. You already framed a man, and probably had at least one other removed. Let's just say we'd feel safer if you were there in person. Anyone tries anything like what happened to the sheriff, and you go with us…"

Dunlevy's face reddened, not in embarrassment, but in apparent anger. "You can't tell me what to do, and you certainly can't tell anyone about me – not after what you've done. You know the penalty for kidnapping as well as I do."

"Only if we get caught," MacGyver pointed out calmly. "And that's not going to happen. You try and turn us in, and Harry will end up just like the Sheriff, or maybe we'll just frame him like you did poor Jerry Rimmer."

"He was a means to an end, nothing more, nothing less." Dunlevy poured herself a scotch but didn't offer MacGyver one. "You can't prove I did anything. All you know is that I'm still alive."

Mac nodded. "Just how did you pull off all that blood in the freezer? D.N.A. matched it to you one hundred percent, and there was too much of it…"

Rebecca smiled. "People like me, people with money, we have our own blood stored in case of an accident. That way there's no risk of getting someone else's diseases from it." She shrugged smarmily. "I suppose someone must have gotten their hands on mine and used it, and you'll have a hard time proving who that was."

"Because you killed them," MacGyver replied quietly.

"That's just your opinion."

MacGyver paused a moment in thought then continued. "You know, blood doesn't keep long enough for you to have stored that amount, and you can't give more than a pint or so at a time. How did you pull that one off?"

Rebecca slugged the scotch and poured another. "You forget I am the boss of a huge pharmaceutical company. We have a wonderful research lab. There are new ways of freezing blood, let's just say we're on the edge of that technology."

"You had a company," MacGyver corrected. "You lost all that when you died."

"Really?" Dunlevy cooed again, shifting her position like she was an ancient queen on her throne of power. "My husband Lyle almost lost it me is what you mean. He let too many of my shares out in the open market. He wanted to cash in without me knowing. It was almost too late when I found out, we were about to have a hostile takeover bid, until I…apparently died. Wouldn't you know, the shares crashed after my kidnapping, and once I was set up here I was able to get them all back, and at a great price. So you see, I'm the still the boss, just call me…a silent shareholder. And those shares are already picking up again."

MacGyver shook his head. "How many people have you killed for your seat of power?"

Rebecca smiled again, her face feigning innocent shock. "But I've already told you, I haven't hurt anyone. All I did was leave my husband Lyle. How was I to know all these miles away that there had been a kidnapping threat? I think Jerry must have overheard me at the gas station talking on my cell about leaving my husband, and he must have come up with the ridiculous kidnapping lie to get money, and it backfired on him. That's my story, if this ever comes out. But it won't, will it, because you're no better than me…"

MacGyver squirmed at the accusation, but for Jerry's sake, he had to continue with the ploy. "Just be at the old mine I told you about in our telephone conversation, three days from now, and there won't be any problems."

"Not for me at least," Rebecca almost snarled, leaving MacGyver with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

...

Abandoned Mine

Just outside Mission City

Minnesota

Three days later…

MacGyver wasn't sure how he felt about bringing Sam to his childhood haunt, but at the end of the day it was somewhere secluded, and yet familiar – a place Rebecca and any of her goons wouldn't know the layout of.

He looked across in the semi-darkness with just two lamps illuminating the scene to see his son looking nervously down the shaft that led to the outside world. It was evening, but here the last rays of sun had no meaning.

"Do you think she'll show?" Sam whispered, trying not to let his words echo off the rocky subterranean cavern.

MacGyver nodded. "She'll come," he confirmed. "Just about the only thing she loves more than herself is that kid…"

"You're right…" A voice so quiet they almost didn't hear it seeped down the tunnel and bounced around the mine. The voice was followed by the barrel of a pistol emerging from the gloom, pointed in their direction. "The problem is, I don't see Harry anywhere…you better not have hurt him, or you'll die here." Dunlevy paused, "Actually, you just might die here anyway. Now where is my son?"

MacGyver stepped forwards, putting his body between Rebecca's weapon and Sam. "Your son is in school, right where you left him."

Rebecca's brow furrowed. "I don't understand?"

"I'm not a kidnapper, Rebecca, and neither is my son, Sam. We're here to get justice for Jerry Rimmer, and the only way to do that was to get you back on U.S. soil. When we told your son, Harry the truth about what you did, he was only too happy to help us make that video – he couldn't believe it at first, but we showed him the evidence…"

"Harry wouldn't trust you – not against his own mother!" Rebecca's tone had changed from cocky to furious in a heartbeat.

"Then how do you explain it?" MacGyver kept his voice low and neutral.

Rebecca took a moment, her hand flexing on the trigger of her gun. She pursed her lips, and then finally spoke. "If you don't have Harry, you don't need the money, and you certainly don't get to live to tell anyone about my D.N.A." She gestured her head, and two goons appeared as if by magic. They moved into position at her side. "Take care of them, and this time, do it right."

Both men nodded and moved forwards as Rebecca vanished into the shadows, her footfalls deep and rumbling on the hard ground as she escaped the mine.

MacGyver shrugged and looked at the men. "You know, if you shoot us, you could bring the mine down on top of you too. This place is pretty insecure." He gestured to a cave-in he remembered all-too well after an encounter with a deadly scarecrow. "Not to mention, bullets mean murder, and you taking the fall for a boss that really doesn't care about you. Rebecca will let you fry, you know that right? Just like she did Jerry Rimmer?"

The goons looked at one another. After a tense moment, the tallest of the two took another step until his nose was almost touching Mac's. He smiled. "Who said we were going to shoot you?" He looked back at his partner. "In fact, a little cave in might just be what we need right now – except we'll be on the right side of it." He nodded and pulled out a Remington six shooter, his cohort pulled out a much larger Desert Eagle.

They both pointed the weapons at Mac and Sam, but made no attempt to shoot. Instead, they backed up, heading to the only way out that wasn't blocked by ancient debris.

MacGyver didn't attempt to follow, and held a hand back, signaling to Sam not to move either.

When the men seeped away into the darkness, MacGyver dived backwards, taking Sam with him. Seconds later, gunfire filled the mine, but it wasn't aimed at anyone, but rather the rotting ceiling beams and timbers that made the shaft viable.

Smoke, dirt and thousands of slithers of wood erupted into the already dusty atmosphere, and seconds later a thundering crack indicated the demise of a huge section of the roof area. Earth, timber and tiny fragments of rock rained down on Mac and Sam, almost burying them in rubble.

Another crack, and more of the shaft gave way in front of them, sealing off the already dangerous entrance forever.

Darkness and silence filled the mine and for a moment nothing stirred. Then a small pocket of debris exploded skywards as MacGyver moved. "Well that went well," he grumbled, unearthing himself from the carnage.

"Almost like clockwork," Sam agreed, pushing up and dusting his clothes off while assessing himself for damage. "You okay, Dad?"

"Been here, done this before," Mac answered with a grunt as he flicked on a small pocket light. "And got the bruises all over again," he confirmed. "I'd love to know what kept the cavalry from storming in, though…" He looked around assessing the situation now he had light. "Neil is usually a lot more punctual that this…"

Sam squirmed. "You don't think Rebecca's goons got to him first?"

Mac shook his head. "What, and the hundred and one feds he brought for back up? Nope, I think Becca got in here unannounced somehow. I just hope Neil and the rest of the posse got them on the way out."

"Speaking of way out," Sam squirmed again. "Seeing as this is your old playground, I don't suppose you know of another exit?"

"Are you kidding?" MacGyver answered honestly. "I had to blow that thing open last time I was here." He pointed to the sealed over shaft that led to the outside. "And before you ask, nope, I don't have any more explosives. I almost blew myself up moving the last lot here to get out."

Sam blew out air in exasperation. "Yeah, you'll have to tell me all about the scarecrow thing sometime. But for now, any of those bright ideas coming into your head?"

MacGyver ran a hand through his mullet, knocking out plumes of dust and wood chips. "I was kinda hoping you would take up the family tradition and save the day this time. There are a few open shafts down here, but none that lead outside – at least none that I know of. I guess we could search a few, but the batteries in this thing will only last so long."

"But Neil and the feds will come looking for us once they pick up Dunlevy, right?" Sam pulled out a pocket knife like his dad's. "Somehow, the usefulness of this thing in this situation escapes me…tell me why I bought one with me again?" He grinned mischievously.

"Because you're a sentimentalist, not a survivalist?" Mac teased back as he headed off down a narrow passage with walls that oozed water. "Which isn't actually very helpful right now, like the knife." He paused as a small blast of air hit him in the face.

"What is it, Dad?"

"Fresh air." Mac fumbled in his pocket, drew out a match and lit it on his boot. The flame billowed as air rushed down past it, not from the side, but from above. He dropped the match as it started to burn his fingers and then lit another.

Sam looked upwards as MacGyver pointed his flashlight in that direction. There was a shaft above them – probably put in by the miners to help with airflow. There was no light from topside, however, meaning the opening might be very small after many years of the mine being abandoned. There was also not enough light to tell how high up the shaft went.

"Okay…I don't suppose you know where that leads?" Sam said with a tinge of hope in his voice.

"Not a clue," MacGyver admitted. "To be honest I didn't even know there were any shafts like that. Something that was lost on us as kids, I guess." He moved closer to the sides of the mine, touching and feeling each one in turn to get an idea of the surface and how hard it would be to climb. There was no ladder and probably never had been, so they would need hand and footholds.

And there were no safety ropes down here, and limited light. One mistake if the shaft was high, and they were dead. On the other hand, there was no real way to tell if Neil Ryder and the feds that should have burst in to arrest Rebecca would ever find them, either.

At least not in time.

Sam seemed to sense his father's thoughts. "You're going to suggest we try climbing up there, right?" he shuddered, not from the chill of the mine, but from the idea.

MacGyver nodded. "I'm experienced at this kind of thing, I'll go first. There's no point in both of us risking it if there's no way out up there." Before Sam could argue, he slipped the mini light into his mouth, grabbed a nearby beam and used it as leverage to push up to the nearest foothold.

Instantly, he realized it was going to be a difficult climb. The walls were wet and slimy, making any assent a slippery one. His right hand fell away from the wall and he quickly swung around, using his weight for momentum to grab another jutting rock edge.

Below, he heard Sam catch his breath. At least once he got further up Sam wouldn't be able to see his near misses. If that's what they were, he chided himself.

"Dad?" Sam's voice echoed off the walls, and his questioning tone meant Mac was already out of sight.

"I'm alright," Mac answered breathlessly as his already numb fingertips perched precariously on a ledge. He took a moment to breathe and to spin his head around, letting his tiny light give him a three hundred sixty degree view of his surroundings.

There was an outcrop jutting from the wall here, not quite large enough to hold a man, but large enough to mean Mac didn't have much room to push through into the space above. He sighed, maybe he was getting that middle age spread everyone talked about. Not if you're gonna be a grandpa, remember that, and get your butt down to the gym a little more often…

Mac smiled at his own thought and reached up for a new hold, letting his hands search out something suitable when his eyes couldn't find anything. He touched a sharp jutting edge, and grabbed it, sliding himself past the outcrop and up into the space beyond.

He paused again, caught his breath and then closed his eyes as his head brushed through a mass off spider webs and long-dead insects the owners had consumed. Beyond that, the shaft opened up, and finally he saw a glimmer of light. The sight gave him more confidence, and he covered the last few feet more quickly until his legs rested on a ledge, leaving his skull just inches from rotting timbers that covered the top of the shaft.

A cockroach dropped down through his hair and onto his jacket, but he ignored it. "I'm at the top!" He shouted down to Sam.

"And..?"

"I'm working on it." MacGyver held on with just one hand and his weight on tentative footholds as he used his light to survey the opening.

As it was, there was no way through – blackened and soaked timbers blocked the exit except for tiny gaps made by termites and weathering.

The wood did look decayed in several sections, and Mac wondered if he could yank it down with a little brute force. He used his free hand to slip into his pocket and retrieve his knife. He flicked open the blade and poked at the beams. It was very soft in some areas.

Retracting the blade back, he popped the corkscrew. Maybe he could "drill" into the soft wood with it enough to wrench it down with a good tug. He used all the strength in his upper arms and forced the corkscrew in as far as it would go, and there was surprising resistance once he'd gotten through the first layer of the timber. That probably wasn't a good sign.

"You might want to move away from the shaft," Mac warned Sam. "Something might be coming your way…"

When a muffled "okay" filtered up the tunnel, MacGyver tugged on the knife handle with everything he had. The wood creaked and groaned, and for a second seemed to bow in the middle, but it refused to collapse as he'd hoped.

"Well that was a none-event!" Sam shouted up seconds later. "What are you doing?"

"Failing miserably?" Mac quipped as he re-assessed his next move.

The only thing in their way was the blackened beam – the only way to budge said beam was more weight, and more weight meant MacGyver letting go his tenuous hold altogether and swinging on the knife handle. Of course, it was too small to grip for long, but he hoped the yanking motion would be enough to shatter the weakened wood.

He also hoped the ledge he'd had to squeeze past earlier would either be a good landing spot, or at least would break an otherwise long fall.

Mac pursed his lips. The shaft was lined with lots of old tree roots and vines. Maybe he could cut some free and drop them down onto the shelf to cushion his landing? He retrieved his knife from the beam and began to slice quickly through the natural padding on offer, tossing it rapidly into the abyss below while his feet still had tenure on the rock face.

Some of the spoils apparently fell too far.

"Say, Dad? I hate to ask, but are you gardening up there?"

Mac had to smile. "Yeah, I know," he answered. "There's a first for everything, right?" He tossed the last vestiges of anything useful and dug the corkscrew quickly back into the central section of the beam. "You might want to get out of the way again, Son…"

Sam seemed to detect the urgency in his father's voice. "Son? You never call me that…"

Mac wrapped his grimy, sweat-covered fingers around the handle of the knife, took a long gulp of air, and closed his eyes as he pushed his feet away from the shaft wall into nothing.

There was a jarring motion that left his fingers, knuckles and shoulder feeling wrenched and sore for all of a nanosecond, then MacGyver felt himself falling in the darkness. For a moment, he wondered if this was how it felt for Murdoc when he fell from the mountain that time. Then, the thought was lost as his ribs impacted with sharp rock through his bed of roots and the air rushed from his lungs.

Everything would have gone black for a minute, maybe two, but down here it was black anyway, like an unending wormhole in space.

"Dad? DAD!" Sam was screaming into the shaft, and MacGyver thought he heard scratching, like Sam was trying to climb up after him.

"Sam, no! I'm okay…I think…" Mac blinked, opened his eyes and realized he was looking up at daylight. The beam had broken and they had a way out. He blinked again, noting his hand was clutching something so tightly his bloodied knuckles were white.

It was the Swiss Army knife that had ultimately saved their lives. And that, Sam, is why I brought one with me! MacGyver's lips curled into an ear to ear grin, even if the moment was lost on his son, and his earlier comment.

...

Angelina's Grace

Corral Canyon Park

California

A few days later…

"So let me get this straight," Andy asked as she hung a bauble on the recently cut Christmas tree, "you guys lured Rebecca to the mine with the white lie that you'd kidnapped her son, because you actually wanted her to try and kill you?"

Sam passed over another glass decoration that had a frosty white coating like snow. "Yeah, we really weren't sure we could prove she killed anyone, or set up her fake kidnapping – after all, she could have just run away and left her life behind and Jerry could have used it to get money. We needed something we could really pin on her, like our attempted murders, except Neil and the feds were supposed to burst in and save the day…"

"And they didn't," MacGyver finished for him, munching on a stick of celery. "Well, at least not right away, trust Neil to be late! They arrested Rebecca and her goons before they could get back onto the highway, but it took them another hour to start digging out the mine."

"By which time we'd already made good our escape!" Sam grinned, then sauntered over and hugged Andy.

She forgot the tree and kissed him lightly on the lips. "Next time, I think I better come along and make sure you men know exactly what you're getting into. I don't want to be alone this holiday, yah know?" She winked, and then pulled free. "So what happens to Rebecca now? Prison?"

"Hopefully," MacGyver tossed the end of the celery in the trash can and picked up the star for the top of the tree. Using a chair for height, he popped it in place and then stood back, arms folded to admire his handiwork. "Ultimately, she got an even worse punishment, though."

Andy raised a brow. "Oh?"

"Yep, her son Harry has disowned her," Sam plugged in the festive lights as he spoke, there was a fizz, a pop, and the whole room went dark.

Andy giggled. "Jeez, aren't the MacGyver clan supposed to fix things, not break them?" She sighed, and then padded into the kitchen area to the breakers. After a minute, the light returned and so did Andy. "So is Jerry exonerated? Or did you just get her on the attempted murder charges?"

"Pete's working on clearing Jerry's name," Mac confirmed, examining the lights for the cause of the outage. "He's pretty sure they can clear Jerry, but it will take time, and until then, Dunlevy is behind bars on the other charges."

Andy smiled, then wrapped an arm around Sam's waist. "I love happy endings," she cooed.

MacGyver cleared his throat. It was now or never. "Speaking of which, didn't you guys originally ask me here to tell me something?"

Sam and Andy looked at one another and smiled. "Do you want to tell him?" Sam asked cryptically.

MacGyver caught his breath as Andy stepped forwards.

"Well…you know how I'm more with the words, and Sam is the picture guy?"

Mac frowned. This wasn't going where he expected. "Yeah…"

"I'm quitting the paper and the freelance stuff, Dad, and we're going into partnership together. I think we'll make a great team!" Sam clasped Andy's hand and squeezed, and she looked up at him dreamily.

The pair seemed caught in one another's gaze for an eternity before Sam noticed the strange look on MacGyver's, it was almost like he'd zoned out.

And the great Angus MacGyver never zoned out.

"Dad, are you okay..?" There was a brief silence.

Then Mac answered. "I err…that wasn't what I was expecting!" He blushed slightly and realization dawned on Sam's face.

"Oh Dad, you thought you were going to be the next Grandpa Harry?" He choked out a laugh and then fell down onto the couch chuckling as his father looked positively mortified.

Andy blinked. "Well, y'know, that might not be such a bad idea, one day…"

Mac smiled. "Just not yet, okay, I haven't got being a dad down pat yet, and look!" He pulled at several strands of his hair. "Neil was right, I'm going grey with this parenting stuff!"

Andy joined Sam in more laughter as she dropped down beside him. "I think you should finish off the decorations as punishment," she said to MacGyver with a mischievous smile.

Mac grinned back. "I guess I'm not going to MacGyver my way out of this one, huh?"

"Nope," Sam agreed. "In fact, it might even cost you an extra Christmas present. You know, I've always fancied a pick up truck as well as my bike? Say, maybe a Dodge Ram with extra chrome and some air horns?"

"Sounds like you're looking for something bigger to put kids in to me," MacGyver teased back as he hung a glittering lantern from the ceiling. "Don't worry, you can always borrow the Jeep!" He winked as Sam groaned.

"You're cheap you know that, Dad?"

MacGyver's eyes twinkled. "It's called recycling! Now who's for some of my home made eggnog? Speaking of grandpas, Harry helped me perfect the recipe…" He moved to the refrigerator where he'd already prepared an abundance of the beverage. "You know," he glanced over to Sam and Andy, "someday, I really would love a little mini MacGyver to invent things with? I guess I'm just a little…"

Sam nodded. "Scared? Don't worry, I get it. And hey, who knows maybe this time next year you'll get your wish!"

Andy threw a pillow over his face. "Oh really?" She questioned mockingly.

"I wouldn't push your luck, Sam," Mac agreed playfully as he handed out drinks. "Not even at Christmas…"

The End