Okay guys, this story is a little bit of a departure from my usual stories. For one thing, it's a cross-over with SG-1. I try not to do those very often, but sometimes it's fun to have both MacGyver and Jack O'Neill in the same story because they're so different. Anyway, as usual, I make them cousins in this story.
This story will offer my explanation about what happened to MacGyver's house boat, why he still has so much of his stuff after the fire, and a theory as to why Murdoc never dies.
In all my future stories, MacGyver will still have his house boat, but it was bothering me to see him have so much of his belongings survive a fire. I wanted to offer a possible reason why that is.
So, anyway, enjoy!
Invincible Part One
Rated: PG
He’d done it again!
MacGyver came home weary from a long trip to Borneo, his pack weighing him down, leaving him desiring nothing more than a long, restful nap. What he came home to instead was the realization that the burdensome pack he carried seemed to be the only remainder of his possessions. Once again, Jack Dalton had taken it upon himself to completely empty MacGyver’s house boat, cleaning out everything down to the last paperclip. Gritting his teeth angrily and cursing quietly, MacGyver jumped into his jeep and sped away to Jack’s plane hangar.
Sure enough, when he arrived he found the hangar’s doors wide open, a moving van inside. His personal items were strewn all over the building. He approached the hangar cautiously. He knew that however angry he might be about Jack’s latest inventive burglary, something could be amiss. After all, it was Murdoc who last time set it up to look like Jack Dalton was the culprit, using the same moving van and taking all his possessions to the hangar. It was Murdoc who wanted his help to save his sister, Ashton. He wondered who was involved this time—his misguided best friend, or a sociopathic maniac. Either choice didn’t make him feel particularly warm inside.
“The answer’s no, Jack,” he said, looking around the hangar. It was quiet. The only company he seemed to have was Jack’s beat-up old plane and his belongings. “Do you hear me?” MacGyver went over to his stuff and examined it. Everything seemed in order. Nothing was broken, at least. “Jack, you really have to come up with something more original next time—
“Surprise!” Jack Dalton shouted, popping up from beneath MacGyver’s hockey jersey. He had been hiding inside one of the moving crates.
MacGyver stumbled backward, startled by his friend’s sudden, unexpected appearance, his dark brown eyes wild. Jack Dalton, in his usual fashion, laughed.
“Oh man, I got you this time,” he said. “You should see your face!” Smiling broadly, he stepped out of the crate. “So, what do you think, Mac? I’m a real live Jack in the box!” He laughed again.
“Very cute,” MacGyver said, frowning. “You know, I could’ve killed you when you surprised me like that.”
“Ah, but then you’d miss out on what I have to tell you.”
“Gee, that would be too bad. We wouldn’t want that, would we?” MacGyver asked, rolling his eyes. “I’m going home. I don’t care if I have to haul all my stuff back myself, either.” He turned sharply and began to walk away from Jack, not once looking back at him.
“You’re a real killjoy sometimes, you know that, Mac?” Jack Dalton shouted after him. He ran up to him and placed his arm around MacGyver’s shoulders. “I mean, jeez, we’re only best buddies and all. I just thought you’d at least humor me and listen…”
MacGyver stopped and pushed Jack’s arm off of him. He spun around and faced him. “Jack, you’re always doing this to me!” He said. “You never have an appropriate time or an appropriate excuse, either. Just leave me alone!”
“But Mac, I…”
The phone on Jack Dalton’s desk rang. He grinned and greedily clapped his hands together. “Hmm…this could be an interested party in my latest enterprise! Excuse me, please,” he said.
MacGyver watched him as he nearly skipped over to the phone like a five-year-old. He shook his head. He debated whether or not to simply walk out during this pause in their conversation, but he waited.
“Dalton Enterprises, this is the Jack Dalton Extraordinaire, Esquire, CEO, and boss of everything,” Jack said, beaming. His broad smile abruptly faded as he listened to the voice on the other end, and he went pale. “Oh,” he said. “Oh, I see. Uh…”
“What is it, Jack?” MacGyver asked.
“Well, let me get him on the phone, then,” Jack said. He looked up at MacGyver, the mirthful twinkle that was usually present in his eyes gone, transformed into a dull, pallid color. “It’s Pete,” he said.
MacGyver searched his mind as to why any call from Pete could cause Jack Dalton to lose his playful mischief and deceit. Clapping the palm of his hand against his forehead, he suddenly realized what could make Jack turn so serious. No doubt Pete had chastened him for not allowing MacGyver to meet him at The Phoenix Foundation to give his report on his Borneo assignment.
“Oh, man!” He said, rushing over to the phone, grabbing it from Jack’s unusually limp hand. “Pete? Hello, it’s Mac. Listen, I’m sorry about not meeting you at the Foundation, but somebody has unfortunately detained me,” he glared at Jack, who still looked oddly shaken.
“Mac, where have you been? I’ve been calling all over! Dalton’s number was my last resort!”
“I know, Pete. I’m sorry. Look, about my assignment…”
“This isn’t about your assignment, Mac! This is about your house boat! Somebody has set it on fire!”
***
MacGyver felt powerless. The firemen and police had barricaded entrance to the marina as they fought the flames. All he could do was stand by and watch as smoke billowed in the air and flames devoured the structure. He had lived there for years. It had been his home. Now, it was destroyed. It was painful to watch, almost like a death.
“At least I saved your stuff,” Jack Dalton said, placing a supportive hand on MacGyver’s shoulder. He was also watching the fire, feeling just as stunned and helpless.
“It’s not my stuff I care about, Jack,” MacGyver said, his eyes fixed on the blaze. “I spent years building that place into my home base.”
“I know, man. I’m really sorry.”
Both men were silent as Pete approached them, carrying a photograph in his hand. He looked up at MacGyver and sighed.
“Are you all right?” He asked, touching MacGyver’s arm.
“As well as can be expected, Pete.”
Pete glanced down at the photograph, biting his lower lip. “I know this is difficult, but I found this…near the scene,” he said, handing MacGyver the photo.
The photo was disturbing, showing a clear shot of the house boat just as the flames began shooting up in the air, glowing bright orange like a torch vividly against the calm, pleasant backdrop of a blue sky.
“Clearly a case of arson,” Pete said.
MacGyver looked at Pete, dread in his eyes. “This is not the work of any arsonist,” he said. “This is Murdoc.”
“Murdoc? The lunatic that’s been after you?” Jack Dalton asked.
“Why not? It fits. The picture, the fire…remember how he set fire to your cabin with a flame thrower, Pete? The man’s a pyromaniac among his many other talents,” MacGyver said, staring at the picture.
“MacGyver, I know this looks like Murdoc’s handiwork, but we don’t know that yet. This photo could have been taken by anyone at the scene. It is the M.O. of an arsonist, after all. They like to wait around, admire their work, and watch when the firefighters arrive. All I’m saying is wait until the investigators come up with their conclusion about what caused this,” Pete said.
MacGyver looked at him. “They won’t find anything, Pete,” he said. “If this is Murdoc, as I suspect it is, he didn’t leave a trace of evidence. He made it look like an accident.”
Pete stared at the fire, thinking about what MacGyver had just said. He knew he couldn’t entirely disagree with him.
“Well, what are you going to do?” Jack Dalton asked, noticing Pete’s sober expression.
“I’m going to stay temporarily at this small hotel in the mountains,” MacGyver said. “I need to get some rest and regroup after all this. Then, I’ll wait to see what the investigators come up with, and move from there.”
“Can I come with you?” Jack asked. “Let’s face it, after something this traumatic, you might need company.”
“No, I’ll be fine, Jack,” MacGyver said, a strange smile forming on his lips. “Just watch my stuff, okay?”
***
A few days later, MacGyver received a phone call in his hotel room from Pete.
“You were right, Mac,” he said. “The investigators found no evidence that your house boat fire was intentionally set.”
“I told you,” MacGyver said.
“They were still calling it suspicious for awhile…”
“Yeah, they hauled me in and accused me of doing it, just because I had your stuff. Can you believe that?” Jack Dalton asked, interrupting Pete. Apparently they were on speaker phone.
“I convinced the authorities to drop their suspicions of Dalton,” Pete said, sounding irritated that Jack had cut him off. “Anyway, MacGyver, it doesn’t look promising.”
“Yeah, I figured,” MacGyver said, sighing.
“Listen, just because there is no evidence doesn’t automatically mean Murdoc was involved,” Pete said. “It really could have been an accident.”
“I know, Pete, but I think we should lay low for awhile, all of us, just in case. If it is him, we don’t know what he wants this time or what he’ll do next. No one was hurt, but we could still be in danger.”
There was a brief period of silence on the other end. “All right,” Pete said finally. “What do you want me to do in the meantime?”
“Find all the latest intelligence you can on the possible whereabouts of Murdoc.”
“It’s not going to be easy. We can’t know how accurate our sources will be, especially since most of the international community and H.I.T. itself believes he’s dead.”
“I know, Pete. Just try, please.”
“What are you going to do once you have the information?”
“I’m going to hunt him for a change, Pete. I’m going to find him before he can hurt anybody, stop him, and beat him at his own game.”
“Ooo, I like it!” Jack Dalton said in the background. MacGyver heard a rustling noise which he assumed was the sound of Pete pushing Jack away from the phone.
“Be careful, Mac,” Pete said.
“If you need any help, buddy, I’ll be right here!” Jack shouted in the background.
“Shh!” Pete said.
MacGyver managed to smile slightly at the sounds over the phone, picturing Pete and Jack squabbling like brothers who weren’t too fond of one another. “I appreciate it,” he said, “but if I’m finally going to bring Murdoc to justice, I need to do it on my own.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Pete asked.
“Of course I do, Pete. Even if he didn’t set my house boat on fire, he still has to pay for all the crimes he’s committed. He owes me that.”
Pete nodded, remembering how MacGyver had told him about his strange encounter with Murdoc where the killer wanted help for a change. He had promised to turn himself in, but in the typical Murdoc fashion, he reneged on that promise. Now he was still out there, elusive, doing who knew what. One thing was for certain—retired from H.I.T. or not, Murdoc could still be a menace.
“Right,” Pete said. “I’ll let you know what I have on him. In the meantime, just be patient and watch yourself.”
***
The hotel MacGyver was staying in was in a secluded, unassuming mountain valley, a place where no one bothered to look around for long, preferring instead to continue to civilization. It was the kind of place where one could easily hide and lose oneself. It was also the kind of place where sordid individuals could slink into the woods unnoticed. A quiet, almost eerie night settled over the valley as the stranger entered town, walking quietly towards MacGyver’s hotel room. No one paid any attention to him, most people in the small, quaint little town already asleep. Still, the man looked around just in case someone was watching him, some busybody dying of boredom and curiously peering through drawn curtains. He didn’t see anything, and proceeded to carefully pull out his lock picking equipment. He worked slowly, prying the lock open. Once it gave, he entered the room.
MacGyver was asleep when the man entered. He was still fully dressed and the sheets hadn’t been pulled down, making it look like he had surrendered to exhaustion. The man hovered over him, trying to think of the best way to wake him. He knew it wasn’t an easy task. He went into the bathroom and filled a plastic cup with cold water. When he reappeared in the bedroom, he stood over MacGyver’s sleeping body, watching him for a moment as he slept. Then, without mercy, he spilled the contents of the cup on him, causing him to dart up wildly in bed, his eyes snapping open in surprise. The man laughed at his reaction, and MacGyver looked up at him, wiping the dripping water from his face with his hands.
“Don’t you ever knock?” He asked the older man who looked almost exactly like him. It was his cousin, Jack O’Neill.
“Why should I? This is more fun,” Jack said, grinning. “Now come on, snookums, it’s time to wake up, because you’ve got a big day ahead of you.”
MacGyver squinted at the clock radio on the night stand. “It’s three in the morning,” he said groggily.
“Believe me, I know,” Jack said, sounding grumpy and tired himself. “I wouldn’t come out here in the middle of nowhere at this God-awful hour unless I had to.”
“What are you doing here?” MacGyver asked, staring at him, realizing he hadn’t fully reoriented himself to his surroundings after his sleep. It seemed like a bizarre dream to have his cousin just appear in his hotel room without warning. “How did you know where I was?”
“Your boss Pete told me. He and Hammond are golf buddies, I guess.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” MacGyver said.
“It’s about Murdoc, Mac,” Jack said. “I think I might know where he is.”
“You? How would you know about Murdoc? I haven’t told you about him.”
“Sometimes Pete shares intel with us.”
“The Air Force?”
“Well, yeah, but mostly SG-1, my team.”
MacGyver knew what his cousin did in SG-1. He had been on several missions with them and had some unusual experiences that he would never forget. Still, they dealt with intergalactic diplomacy, not international.
“Why would Pete contact you over an assassin?” He asked.
“He wouldn’t,” Jack said, “unless there was something different about the assassin. Normally, he wouldn’t have called us at all, but he was desperate. He told us there is something about this Murdoc that isn’t…quite human. Is that right?”
“He dies, or at least we think he dies, but he always comes back.”
“And there it is,” Jack said.
“What?”
“MacGyver, Murdoc is a Goua’uld.”
To be continued…
"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer."
--Henry David Thoreau
brains+brawn+beauty+personality=MacGyver
Although, I think I just spelled it correctly. 
Anyway, there will be more to come soon! 
