The Sort to Defy Distance

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: Just a short tag to Episode 3:01. Spoilers, so read at your own risk. Thanks to Mary who reeled me in on the fluff. I blame my random sappiness on the vicious rumor mill that Jack may have limited appearance this season after next week's episode. How can there be a MacGyver without Jack? If anyone can validate this awful suggestion or hopefully put it to rest, please let me know. Lol. Should we start a campaign now? BringBackJack-it has a ring to it at least. Sigh. Also, if you have not read my story Unexpected Detour where I introduce Jack's grandparents, JP and Beth Dalton, you might want to take a glance, as the cast of characters at the Narrow Path Ranch in Austin, Texas make a brief appearance. Thanks to those who have written reviews for Love Wins and Nature versus Nurture. More coming on both those stories soon!

RcJ

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder, but it sure makes the rest of you lonely."-Charlie Brown

Jack could feel the dew wicking into his jeans. It was mid-morning but in the graveyard the California sun hadn't quite breached the shade which covered his father's resting place. He hadn't been able to stay at work, despite Oversight strongly suggesting he needed to debrief about the 'Russian Incident', as they were now calling it. The man should have really known him well enough by now to know that if he'd wanted Jack to stay, he should have ordered him off the premises.

Jack didn't head out early to piss the man off, not entirely. He'd done it to some degree to spare the bastard the beat down Jack had wanted to deliver ever since Mac had left the first time around. His ire toward Oversight had only grown as days turned into weeks with no communication with his partner. The satellite feed was the only reason Jack didn't hop a plane to Nigeria and check on the stubborn, hurting kid himself.

This second leaving was a hundred times worse. Jack wouldn't say he was mad at Mac for not saying a proper goodbye, more hurt-hell, devastated-but mostly he was angry at James. Just as pissed at himself.

"After all, I started this whole thing, Pops." Jack rubbed a hand over his face, tipping his beer at the marble stone, knowing if his dad had been able to respond he'd possibly pointed out that it was a little early for a drink. But there was only the sounds of the birds to chastise him and he was pretty sure they didn't give a damn if he was shit-faced before lunch. In fact, Jack was pretty sure no one really gave a flip at this point. He took a long drink to wash down the bitter taste of self-pity.

"The bull stampeded his own damn china shop this time, Dad. In fact, it was right here in this very spot that I planted that first seed in the kid's gigantic brain-telling him he should make it right with his old man while he still had a chance. I let him write that stupid letter. Even bought him the damn stamp to send it. I broke into Matty's house and practically helped her feed the kid the information he needed."

Jack took another long pull, remembering all too clearly the way he'd pushed at Mac to find his father, thinking he knew what the kid needed. Sure he'd had Mac's best interests at heart, but maybe in the back of his mind he wanted to play the hero, yet another way of rushing in and saving his best friend.

Back then Jack's worst case scenarios included the old man being dead, or Mac being seriously disappointed by the answers the bastard might give. He'd even considered he'd have to share Mac with his biological dad, but never in his darkest ponderings did he ever think he'd lose the boy. That he'd be left alone. Jack blew out a long breath, wishing like hell hindsight wasn't twenty-twenty.

"Shit, Dad. James doesn't even deserve the kid. He sure as hell wasn't worth a year of Mac's life and now he's cost us so much more. " Jack's throat felt like it was about to close up. Delta's might not cry, but damned if he didn't want to punch the shit out of someone. Namely Oversight. Since finding the envelope slid under the door at his apartment that morning, his name in his partner's distinctive writing, Jack had been a wreck, vacillating between rage and grief. He should probably have just gone to the VA, maybe called Boxer or Freddy, hell, maybe even took Bozer up on his offer to hang out in the lab with him, but nothing or no one was going to fix the fact his partner was hell bent on leaving LA for good and hadn't even told Jack in person.

Jack took another drink of warm beer, finding it hard to swallow. He let his eyes rest on his father's date of death. He and Sarah had barely made it back from a mission in time for Jack to have one last conversation with his dad, a chance to say goodbye. He'd chanced life and limb to make that happen, and understood all too well the risk of letting things go unsaid.

"I can't help but to think this is all sort of like when you died, Pops, and I felt like I'd come completely unmoored." Jack had re-upped with Delta not long afterwards, leaving the CIA, wrecking any plans he and Sarah had made to be together. Going back to war seemed a sure way to end the pain of loss, or at least stall it. Then he'd met Mac. Jack would be lying if he hadn't briefly entertained the possibility again-re-upping that was. He peeled at the label of the bottle. "The only difference is you didn't have a choice in the taking off, and maybe that makes Mac heading off into the sunset hurt just a little bit more."

Jack had been honest when he'd told Mac he understood in the video messages he'd sent the first go around, before his brilliant plan to capture Walsh hadn't panned out the way he expected. Jack truly got where his best friend was coming from, that he was overwhelmed and rightfully so by the depths of his father's duplicity. Mac had the breath knocked out of him and needed a while to lick his wounds, find his center again. But damned if Jack could wrap his head around the need for Mac to leave once more, to disregard everything, including a family who loved him. It made no sense, especially after what they'd been through the last twenty-four hours.

"He even called Nigeria home, Dad? What the hell am I supposed to do with that?"

Jack's cell vibrated from his pocket and he nearly dropped his beer as he scrambled to answer it, the faint hope Mac might have changed his mind and reached out robbing the agent of all his cool. When he got a look at the screen he narrowed his gaze at his father's tomb stone. "Not funny, old man."

Jack swallowed his brief disappointment and answered the call with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. "Hey, Nana. How's the most beautiful woman on the planet?"

"Well that I wouldn't know, Wyatt, but I can tell you that these old bones are holding out as about as well as can be expected. I'm no Yellow Rose of Texas, but I'm still not six feet under."

Jack's mouth twitched at his grandmother's familiar southern drawl and colorful denial. He imagined her dressed for the day, sitting at the farm table with a cup of coffee and dogs at her feet. He wouldn't have put it past his long deceased father, Jack Sr., to somehow get a message through to the Dalton matriarch, maybe bribing St Peter himself to sound the alarm.

"Meaning you've already been up for hours, gone for a ride, maybe even done some Tai Chi with the ranch hands." Jack put down his beer, running his free hand over his face. He felt warm affection rush through him. "JP told me you had started up some New Age regimen. And just so we're clear, you out-pretty any flower in Texas."

"Your grandfather thinks any exercise besides sitting astride a horse or shoveling food into his face is New Age, Wyatt. He's a master at avoiding things he don't necessarily like. Not unlike his grandson, who, like JP Dalton, can also be quite the charmer when he needs to be."

There was definite humor under the mock exaggeration, along with a hint of worry.

"Now, Nana…"

"Don't now Nana me, Jack Wyatt. You might as well spit it out and tell me what's eating at you boy, because my 'person needing powerful prayer' radar going off aside, I can hear it in your voice."

Jack couldn't help but to smile. He had his 'Spidey sense' and Nana Beth had her heart-line to Jesus. He let out another small sigh, knowing he was no match for the woman and her faith in her ability to know when someone was in dire straights. "It's Mac."

"Is he alright?"

All humor had fled, Beth's tone completely taken over by her concern. Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. "He's okay."

"You don't sound so convincing. Is he still in Nigeria doing the Lord's work?"

Jack now rolled his eyes. Nana Beth had no doubt loved bragging to her church friends that one of her boys was helping the less fortunate. "Angus isn't on a Missions trip, Nana. He's building wells."

"And how is helping a village of people have clean water not something Jesus would do? Missions isn't all passing out Bibles and tracks of the gospel, Wyatt. If love is in the work and peace and good will the by product, you can guarantee God has His hand in it."

"Then that just puts the Big Guy's name on my list." Jack sent a quick glower to the blue sky above. There was a chiding harrumph on the other end of the line and he knew he was pushing the borders of a disrespect his grandmother would not condone.

"I see you're still all stubbed up about Angus leaving you behind?"

"I'm not stubbed up." Jack muttered, returning his gaze to the tombstone across from him just in case he might chance a glimpse of his father's spectral apparition sporting a wide, knowing smirk. Truth was, Jack was probably pouting just a bit. As much as he got why Mac left, he didn't understand why the kid hadn't asked him to come. Sure, the former Delta's skills might not exactly have lent themselves to the kind of work Mac was doing, Jesus sanctioned or not, but Jack was adaptable. A mocking voice that sounded a lot like his mother's refined Louisiana twang taunted that the answer was simple-Mac had not wanted him there. Jack forced the painful possibility aside and cleared his throat. "I mean, at least I wasn't until this morning."

"And what happened this morning? Who peed in my baby's cornflakes?"

Jack could envision his grandmother's arched brow, her brown eyes twinkling just a tad at his churlishness. "That would be your darlin' angel, Angus, who we both know you think does no wrong. That's who." Despite Beth's sweet as sun tea tone, Jack still felt his hackles rise. He'd dragged a twenty year old Mac home to Austin with him years ago knowing full well his grandmother wouldn't be able to resist bringing him into the Dalton fold, claiming him as one of her own. What he couldn't have predicted was that the kid would have superseded his own favorite grandchild status but at times that is exactly what seemed to have happened. Most days Jack was fine with that, pleased as punch, actually, but not today.

"Angus did that from 8,000 miles away? Now that's a strong steady stream."

Before Jack could comment on how his grandmother's teasing wasn't exactly reflecting the loving support he thought his dad's divine intervention might have warranted, Beth kept going.

"Your granddaddy would be mighty jealous as his prostate hasn't been the same since he turned seventy."

"Damn, Nana." Jack growled, knowing he was pushing his luck once more with the language. He scrubbed a hand over his face, sending a glare to his father's tombstone. "Please add JP's prostrate troubles to the list of things a man does not want to hear his sweet grandma talk about. What happened to holding our thoughts and biting our tongue while around polite company?" Jack shuddered, briefly glancing back to the stone. His father was probably having a right proper laugh right about now.

"Since when has any Dalton ever been accused of being polite company?"

Jack couldn't deny her point. "Still, I've had enough heartache for one morning. How about you cut me some slack."

"I might consider as soon as you tell me what Angus did to put you in such a foul mood?"

Jack grunted, knowing the revelation was going to sound ridiculous and probably pretty petty even before he said it. "He left."

"I thought he did that a few months back?"

Jack could almost see the frown of perplexity on the older woman's face. "He came back, but then he left again."

"I see."

There was a long pause where Jack was tempted to state his case as the wronged party with a further explanation of how Mac had given every indication that he was going to stick around, that he even agreed with Jack's brilliant insight that working for the Phoenix was what he was born to do, but hesitated because he wasn't sure if Mac had actually done that or if Jack had merely wanted so badly to see such evidence that he'd imagined it. He also wondered if his nana was revving up to give him what for, but then he heard her give her own quiet sigh. It was a capitulation he recognized and knew good and well if he'd been back in Austin, sitting in her kitchen, her eyes would have gone soft, her hand would have reached out and taken his. Jack could practically smell the scent of coffee and fresh biscuits.

"It sure is hard to let them go, isn't, son?"

Jack huffed out a humorless half laugh, his eyes stinging. "It's not like Mac's some baby bird flying the coop."

"Isn't it? That boy has been yours for nearly eight years now."

Jack flexed his fist, let the pain of bruised knuckles ground him. He'd have a hell of a time fixing the hole he'd put in his wall. Surveying the damage after it was done left him feeling like a fool, much like he did now for even considering himself in the same position as a middle aged empty-nester. Next thing you knew he'd be taking up some strange hobby like ballroom dancing or power walking."

"Wyatt?"

"I'm still here." Jack moved his gaze to his father's rock again. Foolish or not, he couldn't help the way he felt. He supposed if an empty nest left one feeling like they had lost sight of their purpose, as if they were out in the middle of the ocean with no land in sight, then maybe Beth had a point. Damn it. "And I think I might just have a whole new appreciation for how Jack Sr. felt when I finally explained about how I was leaving for the Army."

Jack heard his grandmother laugh, knew she was nodding as she recalled the drama that decision had invoked.

"Boy your daddy sure was one fit to be tied. He was spitting mad for a good long while. In fact, I think there were more than a handful of mornings when I had a powerful nudge from the Lord that Jack Sr. might need to be covered with some mighty hearty prayers as well."

"And did you ever feel led to call him up and give him a good talking to?" Jack turned his gaze to the sky once more, wondering at the mysteries of a God who might even care enough to meddle in the affairs of hard-headed, mulish men.

"I did. Turns out it was a good thing, too, because on that very day he was just about to up and commandeer himself a plane to go fetch you from boot camp."

"Yeah well on the spectrum of crazy, that's not really earthshattering to me, Nana." Jack picked at some strands of grass beside him, running through the things he'd done over the last few weeks. His father stealing a plane was truly tame compared to Jack breaking into a Russian facility to steal weapons and handing over enough stolen diamonds to fund a small war. He was glad his grandmother wasn't there to witness his guilty state.

"Please tell me you didn't pull one of those blue bag jobs and kidnap Angus away from his self-imposed exile, Jack Wyatt Dalton." Beth's voice had grown in volume and taken on a bit of an edge. "That boy has every right…"

"It's a black bag job, Nana, and…"

"I watch Seeley Booth on The SEAL Team, Wyatt, I know exactly what kind of things you Special Ops boys are capable of doing and I am just saying that Angus has every right to take some time away, especially after his daddy pulled the stunt he did on that child. He's hurt and angry at the world. You need to just leave him be, let him settle."

Jack rubbed his eyes, biting back on his impulse to tell his grandmother that it was just 'SEAL TEAM' just as it was simply Wal-Mart and Facebook, not The Wal-Mart or The Facebook. He could have also related that Nana Beth's favorite television heartthrob had an actual name and it wasn't the one his character from Bones was called. Never mind that she had never been one to just sit idly by while the dust settled. Instead he showed he wasn't completely reckless and fool-hearty by keeping his own anger in check.

"I didn't go quite David Boreanz or anything, Nana," Jack said, wearily. "Mac came back on his own thank you very much. Mostly."

It wasn't completely a lie. Nobody made Angus MacGyver do anything he didn't want to do. Of course Jack might have used a fair bit of manipulations, like counting on James MacGyver not being able to resist using Jack's situation to lure his son back. Jack had fully known short of a hot extraction, him being in danger would have probably been the one and only thing to bring his partner back into the fold. At the time Jack was convinced it was for the kid's good, but now, he wondered if his grandmother would view his actions as completely selfless or easily see the vast gray area for what it was- a fair possibility that Jack was a self-centered sonuvabitch.

"It's the 'mostly' qualifier that has me worried, son, but I'm going to believe that whatever you did do, you did with the best of intentions."

Jack could hear the frown in her calm voice and his heart clenched at the thought of disappointing her. He blew out a long breath, deciding to redirect. "So how did you talk pops into not hopping a flight to Fort Leonard Wood?"

"I didn't have to do much talking to convince him he didn't want to be going to Missouri and fetching you back. In fact, I just had to remind him of the day he told his daddy he was running off to the air force to be a pilot."

Jack laughed, remembering the stories his father used to relate about the hell him and JP gave one another. It was ironic that their father/son dynamic followed a very similar pattern. "Is this where you use that same tactic on me? Because come to think of it, I think I might still have a faint impression of the boot print he left on my behind?"

"No, baby, you're not your daddy. You need a bit of a different tactic. I was just going to kindly remind you of sweet old Damascus and the day JP talked you into letting that horse out of the barn for the first time after bringing him home."

"I was afraid he'd run off," Jack recalled the day vividly. "It even worried me that Damascus might run right back to that old bastard who beat him." Jack had spent weeks earning the rescued buckskin's trust, nursing him back to health after he'd saved him from an abuse situation. JP had paid the old man more than a fair price for the stock after realizing his grandson had stolen the horse, but after taking the money the piece of shit had sworn if he saw Jack or the animal back on his property he'd fill them both full of buckshot.

"If I remember, you flat out refused to let him go. Even took to sleeping in there with him to be sure he didn't get lose on his own. Do you remember what your grandfather told you?"

Jack could imagine the expectant gleam in Beth's eyes, could hear the lead in her voice as well. He huffed. "Something about me never knowing if Damascus was mine if I didn't give him a chance to run free and explore his options."

Jack tossed the handful of grass he'd pulled, glancing again to his father's grave marker. He dusted his hand on his pants, feeling way younger than his actual age, almost like the teen he'd been when Damascus was his best friend and he was faced with the prospect of losing him. "There might have been some other stuff about trust and loyalty, and knowing when to let something you loved go, but damned if Damascus wasn't a horse Nana. Mac is... well, Mac is family."

"All the more reason to have faith that he'll come back to you, boy."

"But it's my job to watch out for him, to keep him safe," Jack countered after a slight pause. How could his grandmother not understand that? She loved Mac, too. She was also one of the reasons Jack felt the way he did about family, why he fought so hard to keep those he cared for safe and sheltered. JP and Beth had been his most valiant defenders and had taught him what was important in life.

"Well, now, that might have been your job while he was still growing, still healing, just like it was with Damascus. When they were hurting and needing someone to count on, you made sure to be that person. You did a fine job. Just as I'd expect. But now…well, now it's your job to love him, Wyatt. That's all. Love him well and love him enough to let him go."

"But how can I love him properly from 8,000 miles away, Nana?" Unwanted desperation was bleeding into Jack's voice. Letting go of Mac also meant that he was losing his purpose. His grandmother couldn't understand that keeping an eye on her pseudo grandson was also what Jack got up out of bed most mornings.

"I think you're confusing love with being his Overwatch, Jack Wyatt. Those two things are not inseparable."

She once more surprised him with her insight. He rubbed his eyes. "True as that may be, you didn't answer my question." Jack understood he was being petulant and stubborn but couldn't stop himself.

"You do it just like every parent who has ever had to eventually release their baby into the world does it. Just as me and your granddaddy love you precious boys from all the way over here in Texas, knowing you're not near as safe as you pretend to be. You have the sort, Wyatt. You do. Just trust me."

"The sort of what?" Jack asked, still not willing to let his grandmother's words soak in, even if he knew they were filled with a wisdom he'd be foolish to deny. He pulled on another grass stalk, needing to keep his fingers busy.

"The sort of heart that's so big and full of love that it defies all distances. Your daddy and granddaddy have the same kind."

Her voice had grown more serious, sad almost and Jack's chest clenched at the idea of what it must be like for her to have lost her only son. "I'm not so sure I inherited such from them."

"Where are you, Wyatt?"

Her voice was confident and Jack hesitated, glancing skyward once more. He momentarily entertained the idea that Riley had schooled Beth on how to use a keyhole satellite while setting up her email. He was quite certain if there was a nosiness gene he had inherited it from her and knew just as he had shown no restraint in checking up on Mac, given the technology, she'd be just as uninhibited in keeping an eye on things. Jack swallowed hard.

"At the graveyard."

"If you can still love your daddy properly when he's all the way in Heaven, I'm pretty sure you can love that boy of yours when he's just a commandeered plane ride away. After all, you are a pilot, aren't you?"

Mischief was back in her voice. "Does that Phoenix Foundation of yours not have something with wings?"

Jack grinned, just about to ask his God-fearing grandmother if she was actually suggesting he steal a bird whenever the mood to see Mac might strike him, but the sound of footsteps kept him silent. His hand went to his thigh before realizing he'd not even bothered to strap his weapon on when leaving his apartment.

"Jack."

The voice was uncharacteristically broken, breathy, but undeniably that of his best friend. Jack quickly made it to his feet, his eyes never leaving the face of the kid standing before him. He briefly pondered the idea of his Nana Beth pulling off one of the bona fide miracles she believed whole-heartedly in, but then he got a good look at Mac's face. Jack felt his heart jump around, almost as it had when the kid had surprised him with his unexpected appearance back in Russia. Even with the threat of their imminent doom at that inconvenient time for a reunion, Jack had been elated and ecstatic to see the kid. But now, the rare emotion in the blue eyes locked with his kept anything like happiness from bubbling through the fear that suddenly gripped his heart, the same terror that was reflected on Mac's face.

"Nana, I need to call you back."

Jack didn't even let his grandmother say goodbye, cutting the connection.

"Angus?"

"I'm sorry…I had to find you." Mac looked around them, gestured to the tombstone. "I figured you'd be here."

"What's wrong, brother?" Jack took a step closer, lifted his hand almost like he would have if he was trying to calm a spooked horse. Thoughts of Damascus flooded his mind and he had to swallow the lump at the back of this throat. "What's going on?"

"He killed her, Jack. She's dead." Jack realized then that Mac was shaking. He recognized the barely controlled rage in the set of the clenched jaw, the balled fists.

"Who?" Jack completely closed the distance between them. He reached out, gripping the younger man's shoulder this time, grateful when Mac didn't even flinch, let alone bolt. Mac was pale, his pupils dilated. If Jack hadn't known better he would have thought the kid was in shock. He let his thumb slip to the younger man's throat, finding the erratic racing pulse he expected. Jack's stomach lurched, worry churning deep in his gut as his 'Spidey sense' went wild. "What are you talking about, bud?"

Instead of pulling away, Mac moved closer. "Jill. Jill's dead."

That wasn't the answer Jack expected. For a moment he thought it might have been Nasha. The kid had told Jack all about her on the exfil flight and Jack had seen them together via the satellite; it was obvious his best friend was smitten. Jill had never entered his mind.

"Mac…" Jack started, still not really comprehending what his partner was telling him. Why the hell would anyone hurt Jill?

"Murdoc." Mac replied simply, coldly, before Jack could say anything else. A hard look crossed Mac's face. "It was Murdoc."

"Sonofabitch." Mac's uncharacteristic reaction all made sense now. Jack quickly searched their perimeter, realizing they were out in the open without a gun.

"Murdoc called me," Mac continued, seemingly unaware of the danger they might be in. There was still a slightly breathy quality to his partner's voice Jack didn't like at all. "He sent a phone to the airport, Jack. He knew I had been in Nigeria…" The kid suddenly wavered and Jack tightened his hold on Mac's shoulder, noticing the far away, unfocused look on Mac's face.

Jack could only imagine what his best friend was thinking. He might have been able to outrun his father's reach, but Murdoc was a different story. Surely Mac's big old brain had to wonder if he'd ever get beyond that psycho's grasp. Murdoc of course wanted him to contemplate the possibility that he would never be safe, nor would anyone that belonged to Mac. The torment the kid's psyche was likely putting him through as he ran every 'what if' scenario was enough to elicit a good round of guilt on Jack's part.

He tightened his hold on Mac. "I should have killed that sick bastard when I had the fucking chance."

"I heard the whole thing." Mac's blue eyes might as well have been a portal, some kind of looking glass that allowed Jack a glimpse of what his partner had witnessed via the phone. "I couldn't do anything to help her…or stop him. She screamed…and I just listened."

"This isn't your fault, brother…" Even before he finished, the kid was shaking his head, running a hand through his mop of hair.

Jack didn't know if he as much as tugged the kid to him or if Mac sort of fell against him but he was surprised when his partner didn't outright refuse the embrace. Beth was right, of course. It was important to know when you had to let someone go, but it was just as important to understand when to hold on to them.

Jack let his hand come to rest against the kid's long hair, felt Mac's fingers wind themselves in the back of his shirt with a fierceness that said all he could not. Jack no longer felt unmoored, grounded in a reality he would have never wished for, one that required he completely switch to what he was undoubtedly born to do-take care of Angus MacGyver.

His grandmother had been correct about something else it seemed.

Space would never change that role, or rob him of his purpose. Jack would find a way to do whatever Mac needed him to do, whether there were continents between them or absolutely no distance at all.

"I'm here, kid." Jack promised. "I got'cha. We'll figure this out. I promise."

The End for now…

A/A/N: I really don't know if the rumor I mentioned earlier is true, but from what I've read and seen from various other cast members it could very well be. Justin Hires has confirmed he will now be having a bigger roll this season. Tristin Mays has even received top billing after Lucas Till in some countries. I love Team Phoenix, but I guess the heart of the show to me will always be Mac and Jack. If George Eades is no longer a huge part of the show, only on the peripheral more like Matty, I'm not sure I would continue to watch. So, on that note, it wouldn't hurt, or be jumping the gun I think, to let your voice be heard at CBS and at one of Peter Lenkovs many social media accounts. Peter Lenkov seems to have forgotten about us anyway. So maybe remind him he had fans before Magnum. Lol.