Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mac’s brow furrowed as he put the newspaper down next to him on the worn but comfortable couch. This was all a bit too familiar for his liking he thought as the brackets on either side of his mouth deepened into a confused frown. Was it possible he had unwittingly time travelled? Why had he not questioned why he was suddenly older than his great grandfather? had travelled to a town called Serenity… other than the fact he’d thought he was dreaming.

He walked over to the drawer and opened it, retrieving the old wooden army knife he had put in there years ago. He stared at the bullet hole in the handle, tracing it with his fingers before he whispered, “Son of a bitch... stole my story!” He exclaimed before leaping for the phone.

He pushed the buttons for his cousin’s phone number and wasn’t surprised when he heard his cousin’s gruff response on the other end of the line when he checked his watch and saw what time it was in Colorado. 

“What!” the surly voice snapped.

“Jack, good.” Mac greeted his cousin.

“Bub? I’m finally getting some sleep here.”

“Jack--this is important. I think I’m Legend.”

“It’s too early to deal with your delusions of grandeur, Bub. I’m going back to sleep.”

“No, no, no, no, Jack – Jack, you need to hear me out.” Mac interrupted. 

“I am really going to have to get you help this time, Mac.” Jack complained, flopping onto his back.

“Jack, what’s going on?” Mac heard a familiar feminine voice ask.

“Hey Sam!” Mac said, the smile obvious in his voice.

“Don’t even!” Jack snapped at his cousin.

“Geesh, I was only asking.” She said, obviously still sleepy.

“No, not you.” Jack grumbled at her. “It's Mac. He thinks he’s Legend.”

“As in Nicodemus?” Sam asked Jack. She rolled over and looked at Jack, then frowned a moment before she said, “I’m getting coffee.”

Mac smirked. “I’m so glad you two came to your senses. I told you that you two belonged together.” 

“And didn’t I tell you you’re an insufferable ass?” Jack sassed back. 

“Nice.” Mac replied sarcastically, “but I have proof.” Mac heard his cousin pause on the other side of the line. “Now are you going to listen?” 

Chapter Text

1890

“Mr Pratt?” a young woman asked him, wide eyes and excited. She was dressed in a dark red silk gown with a bit of lace at the neck and wide box pleats on the gored skirt. Her jacket was edged in matching red velvet trim and had fashionably lightly puffed upper sleeves. Her cuffs matched her lace collar and she wore buff coloured kid gloves.

“Yes milady.” he greeted her. “Miss Stacey, I understand?”

“That’s right. It's a pleasure to meet you!” she smiled.

“Oh, I’m sure it is.” he slurred with a hint of sarcasm. 

“Oh, I’ve heard so much about you, Mr Pratt--”

“Tales of my grandeur are greatly exaggerated.” he said with a charming smile. 

“Oh, I don’t know, Mr Pratt,” the girl almost giggled, something which made his eyebrow cock at her curiously. He counted himself as getting on in years at forty-four, yet this woman must be half his age and he was pretty sure she was flirting with him! Despite the fact he wore a wedding ring and his wife pottered in the background! “I think your reputation precedes you.” she flirted as she took off her gloves and bonnet to sit in the proffered cane chair next to a small matching table with a house plant that looked a bit chewed on sitting in the middle.

He shifted uncomfortably and nudged a half full tea cup aside as he asked her, “What can I do for you, Miss Stacey?”

“Well, you know I’m here to interview you about your books.” She said nervously. 

“The ‘Legend’ himself.” He smiled though he was certain she’d missed the irony in his tone.

“Is it true people actually mistook you for Legend himself?” she asked with a dimpled smile that reminded Ernest just a bit of Sam actually.

“That they did.” Ernest nodded.

“Did you base him on yourself?”

“For the record--” he said with a smile to Abigail “Sure why not.”

“And off the record?” she asked him.

“Well yah see, I have a muse, my Abigail--”

“Oh, I know but you met her while your books were being written.” she said smartly. “In fact you had already been writing abut Nicomedus Legend for several years prior to when you and your current wife met.” She said primly with an arch look that left Ernest taken aback. Current? Yeash.

“The truth is so extraordinary I doubt you have it in you to believe it.” he said with a bland smile.

The young women felt a little put out by being accused of scepticism. “Try me.”

Ernest’s mouth almost quirked a smile before his brow creased. “The year is 1871, not long after the civil war ended, and I’m an eighteen-year-old boy sent to a small town in the middle of nowhere for a story.” Ernest took a breath. “Yah see, at the time I was starting my career as a journalist. This was before I’d ever put pen to paper about anything other than reporter’s facts. I fancied myself the next great reporter like Felix Gregory de Fontaine, one which could change not just your mind but your heart. He, of course, could do both -- write a good report and pen a good novel. I--um could barely do one.” He said in a self-deprecating way.

“Oh, I read your pieces, Mr Pratt!” she exclaimed. “You were a highly acclaimed writer, sir. You stirred opinion. You divided politics--”

“I was in an uphill battle with no ammo in the end.” he said quietly. “But, anyhow, I was young and went to this small town of Serenity and when I got there, I was almost immediately mistaken for a man they were referring to as ‘the local legend.’ This, of course, piqued my interest and, as a reporter, I wanted to know why this man was held in such high regard by the locals.” 

Serenity, Montana - 1871 (AN: The Town, not the ship)

Ernest walked into the local saloon where the room went silent and every set of eyes watched as he walked up to the bar. 

“Well, this is a cliché if I ever met one.” He muttered to himself under his breath.

“Macgyv--” A pretty dark-haired woman in a heavy wool brown dress started to say but then shook her head. “Gee -- I’m sorry, Mister--” she said politely. “Well I’ll be, if you’re not the spitting double of our own local legend.”

“Legend, you say?” he asks her, his curiosity was definitely stirred… among other things he thought as he noted how attractive the girl was. “He must be a good looking fellow.” Ernest said with an engaging grin at the woman.

“Well sure!” she smiled widely “Well he’s tall and handsome, just like you. He’s maybe about the same age, his hair is lighter, yours is a bit brassy, but you look just like him.” She said with obvious enthusiasm. 

”Well, I--”

“Suppose you must be related somehow, though he never mentioned any family. I suppose he might not have had the chance.”

‘I can’t imagine why.’ He thought sarcastically to himself as he looked at the attractive lady in front of him. 

“Oh, but how rude, I’ve yet to introduce myself. The name’s Penny, Penny Parker. And you are?”

“Ernest Pratt, milady.” He said with a charming smile and a small bow.

“I suppose you’d be after a milk?”

“If by milk, you mean whisky.” Ernie almost snarled. 

Penny giggled. “You sure ain’t our Legend then.”

His eyebrows quirked. “You mean he doesn’t drink?”

“No sir, he famously abstains from it. He doesn't smoke either.”

Ernest chuckles. That would get you’re a reputation around here for sure. A teetotaller who doesn’t smoke either. “Next ya’d be telling me he doesn’t enjoy a roll with the ladies when presented with one.” He said when his whisky was set down in front of him. 

“Oh no, sir, he doesn’t seem overly fond of it either. There was some question a couple of years back, three brides had been sent here as mail order you know how it is, but even with them none of them stuck long term. Some say he doesn't like women, but I know that's not true, I imagine it's for some great and noble cause.” Her eyes got that dreamy look many women got when in the throws of hero worship in Ernest’s estimation.

“The guy sounds a hoot.” He said dryly of the saintly picture being painted of this other man. 

“He carries around a penknife all the time and it saved his life once, and of course there’s his infamous dislike of guns--”

“Well, I can’t blame him for that one.” Ernest hated guns. Ever since that one time…

“See I knew you’d have something in common.” Penny smiled.

“Did you say the penknife saved his life?” Ernest asked.

“Sure, and as clear as day, he held it in his breast pocket and the bullet hit it instead of his heart. It was a stroke of luck, but it didn’t half scare Murdoc, the yellow belly. Must’a seemed like he was resurrected from the dead!”

“Really?” he said bemused, his interest was highly aroused now.

“When he first came into town, he was dared to drink down Mex Rot Gut. It had a spider in it you see, but he fought off these two guys by pouring a drink down one guy’s pants and then putting a cigar down the other!”

Ernest winced as he chuckled. “Well I’ll be!”

“Oh! And he’s really good at looking around him for the natural resources he needs you see and Macgyvering the things he needs from them!” 

Although not sure what ‘Macgyvering’ meant, he could guess from the context.

She took a breath that made her chest heave in enticing ways then continued, “Well, I think he’s had some training in that sort of thing.”

“Espionage?” he asked, leaning forward with interest.

“And science.” she nodded.

“He’s a man of science.” Ernest nodded in approval. “Sounds like there’s a story there. Any idea as to where you might find him?”

“Well, Jack Dalton and Pete Thorton manage Big Riggs Ranch when he ain’t here. He came here to settle though he does go away an awful lot for someone who’s settling.”

“Oh?”

“All he wants is enough for living.” Penny assured him. “He ain’t greedy, so he lets Thorton and Dalton take care of things. The water on his land is especially valuable.” 

Not really interested in special water at the moment he did want to meet this legend. Ernest nodded “Where might I find this Bigg Riggs Ranch?”

Ernest approached the main house of ‘Bigg Riggs Ranch’ taking note of the landscape. He didn’t like Montana, it was too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter and there was too much sand for Ernest's liking. He’d left the west coast to get away from sand. But he could see, even from the road, that Bigg Riggs Ranch seemed to have a water source of some kind, making the land lush and green. He was intrigued by the various projects around the place.

“How can I help you?” He heard the question being called from across the way. He turned to see a stocky man, one who wasn’t as tall as he was, his dark moustache almost matching his dark eyes. 

“Yah, I’m looking for--” he paused. Damn, he never did get the man’s name. “The local Legend.”

“Ah! I’m ‘fraid you’ll be luckily Mr--” He started to move towards Ernest.

“Pratt, Ernest Pratt.” he replied, chewing on the name so much it sounded like he’d said Prprawt. “And you are?”

“Name’s Dalton. Jack Dalton and--” He paused in front of Pratt, staring at him in amazement, “and I’ll be, you look just like him!” 

“So, I’ve been told.” Ernest replied to the other man. 

“I’ll be! It’s uncanny!” he said, shaking his head. “As I was sayin’ you’ll be lucky, this is his land alright, but for someone wanting to settle, he is half away a lot.”

“Oh?” Ernest asked.

“But then, when we need him, Mr Pratt, he shows up.” Dalton said, his finger coming up for emphasis, “He’s always there when we need him.” 

“Seems like an outstanding guy.” Pratt drawled sarcastically.

“Indeed, he is.” Jack claimed. 

“So, this is his homestead?” Pratt asked. “He seems to have some interesting projects going on?”

“Would you like to see it?” Jack asked.

“Sure, I can’t say I’ll understand it all--”

“I don’t think any of us understand how his mind works, Mr Pratt, the important thing it, that it does.” Jack said, with a friendly sort of smile. “The land itself is ordinary enough. We grow your standard crops, corn, wheat, few green crops, but most of that is covered by our partner, Mr Pete Thorton, over on Fire Eagle Ranch. We grow a lot more vegetables then most because, well, he prefers to eat them.”

“The guy doesn’t eat meat?” Pratt asked, knowing this was near impossible on the diet available. This wasn’t a civilized area like San Francisco or Boston after all

“Oh, I said he prefers not to, he does eat it sparingly.” Jack chuckled “You and I may not understand it, but he sure does, says he can get all he needs from the fruit, vegetables and grain of the land.” He shrugged happily “but we grow enough that we sell it to the local businesses.”

“Ah! A language I understand, profit!” Pratt exclaims.

“No sir, not he.” Jack said, shaking his head. “All he asks is a room to lay his head, the room to be self-sufficient. All profit he happily divides between me and his partner, Thorton.”

Pratt looked again. “You grind your own wheat.” he said.

“Yes sir.” Jack said proudly. “The water is the special thing about this land, as he has it, so it powers much of what goes on here.” Jack continued “The Gristmill, the water purifier, which gives us the clearest water I’ve ever seen, through our indoor tap.”

Pratt’s eyebrow quirked “Indoor?” 

“Yes sir.” Jack nodded, “That’s not the only thing that works on the water flow. The water pump powers our fan inside the house--”

“Surprised he hasn’t created his own locomotive carriage that doesn’t need rails.” Pratt chuckled seeing the invention on his head. 

 “Wouldn’t surprise me if he did.” Jack chuckled “You know he has this extraordinary item, which you’re just going to love!”

“As interesting as all this is…” Pratt remarked “I’d like to know more about him. You said he could be relied upon to show up when needed. Do you have any examples?”

“Indeed, I do, there was one-time James brothers robbed the Gallatin bank--”

Chapter Text

“Pete Thorton?” Pratt asked, approaching the man. “Name’s Pratt, Ernest Pratt,” he said, putting his hand out to shake the older man’s hand. “I understand you can tell me more about your partner, the um--local legend.” 

Pete, who was a shorter heavy set man with very little hair under his wide brimmed hat chuckled. “Is that what they're calling him nowadays.” he said with a smile.  “What you need to understand about him, Mr Pratt, is that he doesn’t think the same as the rest of us.”

“You know him well then?”

“As well as you could, I’d say.” Pete nodded as he looked away up the road as though almost expecting the man to appear on being mentioned.

“I understand he’s currently out of town?”

“Off to save the world, no doubt.” Pete said with a smile.

“He does that often?” Pratt asked, trying to keep the incredulous tone out of his voice.

“Someone’s world sure.” Pete nodded. “He helps those who need it. No respecters of persons, they can be black, white, Chinese, Injun, all alike in his eyes.” 

“Have you seen him in action?” Pratt asked.

“Many times. Not just here, but we’ve been across to the east too. Why I think that man might travel the world if he could.” Pete chuckled. “Probably does and just doesn’t say anything about it.

“Mr Dalton suggested he’s a man with little interest in profit?”

“When he first came to town, I wanted the water on his land. The deeds were promised me by the previous owner who lost them in a card game to Mr Dalton who then sold them on. I wanted that water. I saw it as mine, but we came to a compromise. I have access to his water and he gets a place to call his own. We’re both happy.”

“I saw a whole lot of inventions on his property to do with water.”

Pete nodded. “He dug a pit and put a pipe into the ground, ran it straight into my kitchen, my water is just as clear.”

“Tell me more about his adventures?” He asked Pete as the other man led him into the house to have a seat at a clean but plain table.

“There was this one time he came to the aid of a young school teacher. She wanted to teach the Northern Cheyenne tribe children just as much as she did the white. Of course, they have their own schools, but here in Montana, it would only make sense for them to be taught together, not to deny them their heritage or culture, she believed the two nations could live side by side.”

“I like her thinkin’.” Ernest remarked.    

”The local mob wasn’t so keen.” Pete continued. “She was strapped to a horse and was almost sent over the ravine.”

“Seems a tad over dramatic over a disagreement in politics.” Pratt commented. “Not to mention a waste of a perfectly good horse."

“You’d be surprised how violently people will stand by their principles.”

“Oh, there ain't much that would really surprise me anymore.” Ernest remarked. 

1890

“Are you meaning to tell me that your inspiration came from an actual real-life hero?” Miss Stacey remarked suspiciously as though Ernest was yanking her chain.

“Not all, but yes… some.” Ernest nodded. “It started there. I returned to San Francisco without a newspaper story to speak of, but with another kind of story. A legend.” 

Miss Stacey smiled. “You’re a very interesting man, Mr Pratt.” she blushed prettily and Ernest suspected, contrived.

“Some call it that.” He grinned. “Miss Stacey, as with everything, the clue is in the name, Nicodemus Legend. Nicodemus means victory to the people. Legend a traditional story often popular but not authenticated. Plus add to the fact that Nicodemus shortened is ‘Nick’ and British English still uses it to mean ‘to steal’ something. I literally stole a legend.” He said smugly. Unconcerned that if he was right, well he supposed the man would be all right with the idea sooner or later. Heck he might have grown up knowing the story.

“That’s it?” She asked and giggled again. “Mr Pratt, that’s very clever.”

“It’s only a device of the genre.” He grinned an his eyes twinkled with amusement. 

“Is that what we’re calling the truth now?” Abigail asked him when Miss Stacey had left the room.

“Every story needs editing before publication darlin’.” He grinned at her as she came and sat on his knee. He pulled her closer up his thigh and she giggled sweetly. “Besides, you saw her reaction, she’d never believed the extraordinary truth.” Ernest looked amused. “Why if I hadn’t lived it I might think it’s poppycock myself.”

“What? That Legend is, in fact, based on one of our great grandsons and he’s a time traveller from the late 20th century where they have all manner of scientific advances Yonish would just drool over if he ever got his hands on them?” She smiled at him. “Now that you come to mention it, it does seem a little far-fetched… even for you” She bussed his cheek affectionately which made him smile and tuck her in even closer.

““It was hard not to tell Jack I knew all about Bub.”

“I wonder why you didn’t.” Abby said thoughtfully.

Ernest looked perturbed. “I’m not really sure. I just had this feeling I shouldn’t tell them I’d met Angus already.” He shook his head. “To be honest I didn’t make the connection until I looked Jack in the eyes and saw my own face looking back at me and he already knew who I was. Even then I didn’t know Mac was his cousin until Daniel made that comment to Jack about telling Mac and Sam hushed him up.”

“Why do you suppose she did that?”

“Something about continuity I couldn’t follow when Yonish asked her some questions about technology.  I figured it might extend to relations when I asked Jack who Mac was and he said Angus MacGyver was his cousin who kept having weird time travel dreams every time he got hit on the head… But he got that look I get when I’m making a joke to hide that I’m telling the truth.” Ernest admitted to his wife.

Abby thought for a long moment. “Well, I recon it’s on account of that genetics thing Sam told us about. You might just know not to talk about other time travellers to the ones you meet even if it’s a relation so you don’t cause an anomaly in how history turns out.”

Ernie gave a her a thoughtful look. “Abby my dear, that’s brilliant.”

“It is?” She asked him, wonder in her voice that she’d figured something ut before her husband. “You understood all that?”

“Not a bit of it.” He admitted. “But nevertheless, it’s absolutely brilliant. I need to write it down in case I can use it later in a story.”

Abby chuckled and shook her head. “I could have Yonish explain it to you if yer willin.” She said with a cheeky grin.

“Oh he’d adore that.” Ernest admitted with a huff that made her giggle.

“I wish I had been around to have met Angus, but I’m sure glad I got to meet Jack and Sam and Daniel and Teal’c.” She smiled “I’m sure once Angus actually reads the books again, he’ll understand, and he’ll tell Jonathan.”

“I miss them, Abby.” He said softly.

“I miss them too.” Abigail assured him.  

1871 - Montana

Resigned to the fact that he’d never meet this ‘Legend’, Ernest sat in the Red Dog Saloon and took another swing of whiskey.

“You seem upset Mr Pratt.” Penny remarked to him as she sat down primly next to him.

“Not upset, just annoyed. Is your local Legend really so difficult to meet?” he asked her.

“Well, I suppose that’s part of the charm, just to appear where he’s needed.” Penny told him to which he grunted to. “Well there’s no need to be so miserable about it, I was just saying’--”

“No, I know that!” He almost spat. “I’m sorry ma’am, I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

Penny looked concerned before she patted his hand consolingly and told him “You know the best thing about him?” she asked. “That he teaches us we’re all our own heroes. I’m braver than I’ve ever been. Mr Thornton is kinder. Mr Dalton is more honest. The best people bring out the best in us and, Mr Pratt, I think that’s in our blood.” she said softly, before she got up and walked away. 

Ernest folded his arm across the table in front of him and buried his head there. He almost didn’t hear the hustle of another person sitting in the chair opposite.

“I heard you were looking for me.” the voice said. He looked up to see almost a mirror version of himself sitting opposite his hair maybe was a little lighter. “Name’s MacGyver.” The man said with a serious sort of smile while holding out a hand.

“First name or last?” Ernest managed to say once the shock had worn off.

“Yup.” Mac said as his smile spread into a grin.

“You’re a bit of a Legend round these parts--”

“Ohhh I wouldn’t go as far as that.” MacGyver said humbly.

“How far would you go?” Ernest enquired.

Chapter Text

“Well, I’ve had my share of adventures if that’s what you’re asking.” Mac said with a self-deprecating smile.

Ernie pulled his notebook from his satchel and a fountain pen that had been a gift from his mother when he graduated university a year early.

Mac looked thoughtfully at the man who looked remarkably like him, only older. Some distant relation perhaps? His past was murky. He got flashes sometimes of another life that wasn’t Montana but none of it made much sense.

“Be easier to show yah.” Mac said with an engaging smile that had Ernest smiling back for no other reason then the man’s grin was contagious. Mac got up as Penny came in.

“Why Mr. MacGyver. Are yah leaving so soon?”

Mac gave her an apparently frequent self-deprecating smile. “I thought I’d show Mr. Pratt around a little bit.”

“That’s mighty nice of yah. When yah come back I want to hear all about your latest adventure.” She said fondly. “Mr. Pratt.” She said to Ernest with a polite smile.

Ernie took her hand and kissed her knuckles before giving her a cheeky grin. “Miss Penny.” He said, “I would very much enjoy getting to know you better.”

Mac caught his eye though and coughed then shook his head minutely.

Ernest sighed. Miss Penny must have a suitor. “Some other time however.”

“Well of course Mr. Pratt.” Penny said smiling.

“Please… we’re friends. Call me Ernest.”

“Why of course Ernest.” She said, smiling at him utterly unaware of his intent.

Mac had made it to the door though. “Well, are you coming or not?” He asked Ernest in exasperation.

“I’m coming.” Ernest said, still smiling at Penny.

“Well come on then.” Mac said impatiently and walked out the door in frustration. The guy might look like me, but he sure doesn’t act like me he thought in annoyance. Between the drinking and clearly flirting with anything in a skirt…

“Right behind you.” Ernie said all but hopping out the door to follow Mac. 

While they walked Mac opened up some. “I don’t remember much about my past. I think I might have had a very different life before this one, but I was doing something remarkably similar.”

“Hero stuff?”

“Oh… I wouldn’t say that necessarily but useful things that help people.”

Ernest made a hum of agreement. “That’s interesting and all but what are you doing now?”

“Oh… a bit of this, a bit of that. Had a ranch hand by the name of Colton. Good man. Escaped slavery by being literate.”

Ernest looked impressed. “How did he manage that?”

“Worked as a schoolteacher. Wrote his own papers.” Mac said with a quick grin.

Ernest chuckled.

“I’m sure you heard about my troubles with Mr. Thorton.”

“I did. How did you talk him into relenting?”

“Well, after a man he hired to scare me off shot my hand and killed him… things got a little bit sticky.” Mac admitted.

“Oh?”

“Well, it turns out Pete never meant for any killin’. He just wanted to have me scared off not try to get me and my hands murdered.” Mac said with a shrug. Turns out his hired gun went AWOL.”

Mac walked along for a bit not talking. “They kidnapped my friend Penny. You’ve met.” He said with a nod. Tied her up and disguised her as him and then he shot me.”

“He shot you?” Ernest said, alarmed. “How did you survive?”

“Well, this fellow down the road from my land gave me a combination knife. It was in my pocket when Murdock shot me.” He smiled. “It saved my life.”

“What happened after?”

Mac shrugged. “Donno. I had this weird dream Pete showed up at my house, but everything looked strange, like it was all modernized. I had running water. That’s how my conversation with Pete started. He’d turned on the water and woken me up.” Mac looked thoughtful.

“Did Murdock come back?”

“Yup. Off and on.”

“Have you caught him yet?”

“Nope. Been chasing him all over the countryside from here clear to the East coast one time. Never caught up with him.” He put up a finger. “But I will.” Mac said firmly. “He’s going to pay for murdering my friend.” 

Ernest nodded. “Everyone says you don’t like guns... on account of the war”

Mc nodded thoughtfully. “Spent four long years with one in my hand murderin’ folks who just believed differently from me. Figured it was time for the killin’ to end.” Mac said of the war he still had nightmares about.

“I don’t carry one either.” Ernest confided, suddenly wanting to get along with this other man quite a bit.

Mac smiled. “If less men carried guns and more men believed in science… well… the world might be a very different place.”

Ernest nodded emphatically. They had reached Mac’s homestead. 

“Come on. I’ll show you around.” Mac said.

“Your friend Jack already showed me some of it, but he admitted he doesn’t really understand any of it. Are you a scientist?”

“That’s what my parents sent me to school for before the war interrupted their plans.” Mac agreed. “So, what do you make of this?” He said as he pulled a tarp off a contraption.

Ernest looked at it for quite a while. “Well, it looks like some sort of flying machine.” He admitted in confusion.

“That…” Mac smiled. “Is because that’s exactly what it is.”

“Does it work?”

“Not yet.” Mac admitted. But it will.” He shrugged. “Some day.”

“And this?” Ernest asked of another odd bit of machinery. 

“Oh, just a mechanized pump for the well I’m working on. I don’t really fancy going outside to urinate all that much,” Mac said with a low chuckle.

Ernest chuckled too. “Still, all of this is fascinating, but it doesn’t explain why you’re a local legend.”

Mac sighed. “I suppose it doesn’t.” He agreed.

Ernest looked thoughtful. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Mac shook his head. “Look, I’m asking for your word here, so you’ll understand. None of this can go into your article. In fact…”

“I swear on my father’s good name as an honest gambler that I won’t publish anything you ask me specifically not to write.”

Mac gave Ernest a suspicious look but appeared to make a decision. “So long as I have your word.”

“You do.” Ernest said.

“Sometimes I think I might be two people.”

“How do you mean?”

“The dreams I have… I don’t think they are dreams.”

Ernest gave him a confused look.

“Sometimes I think I time travel here and back again.”

“Why do you think that?” Ernest asked carefully.

“Well, think about it. I just disappear for no good reason and reappear when someone needs help? It sounds like the plot to a dime store novel Mr. Pratt!” Mac said in exasperation.

“You could just have memory loss from the war.” Ernest reasoned.

“Then how come I can invent things? Things no one has ever even heard of before like inside outhouses and flying machines and… and… well all this stuff!”  Mac said with an aggravated wave of his hand.

“You’re incredibly intelligent.” Ernest said, unruffled.

“And what about all the mail order brides that just show up here because Jack thinks I need a wife but every time they do, I just disappear with no account for myself until they leave again?!”

“Well, you might have a special lady friend you haven’t expressed feelings for but don’t want to betray…”

“Poppycock!”

“Mr MacGyver, I don’t pretend to have the answers for you.” Ernest said. “A drink might help me come up with one.”

“I’ve got water and that’s about it Mr. Pratt. I don’t drink.”

“So I’ve heard.” Ernest said morosely. 

“Ernest, I tell yah the only thing I wanted was to just be left alone.” Mac lamented. “And yet they send a reporter of all things to my doorstep.” He said in aggravation.

Ernest looked crestfallen. Mr. MacGyver did not want to be in the papers.

“To be honest Ernest, if you write that story, it’s just going to cause this town a heap of trouble. Murdock doesn’t come here anymore because the town folk ran him off finally, but he’d be right back killing folks left and right if it did and worse it would attract sight-seers who would get in the middle of it and be in danger too.”

Ernest frowned. “It wouldn’t help you help anyone either would it.”

 “Probably not.” Mac agreed with a grumble.

‘Mac’s right of course’ Ernest wrote in his diary on the train away from town.  ‘If I write an article about Mac, he’d have a whole heap of busy bodies and troublemakers riding into town keeping him from the greater good.’ Ernest sighed, looking up he saw out of his carriage window, the horse Mac had borrowed him, trot faithfully, back towards the direction of the ranch, just as Mac had said it would. Ernest smiled and shoo k his head, the act of the horse shouldn’t surprise him after all he’d seen that day, but it did. ‘There’s holes in his story too. Holes I can’t fill.’  Ernest sighed heavily.  Ernest wasn’t really sure what Mac had meant in all he said. 

But whoever Angus MacGyver was… He was a hero wherever he went. A truly legendary man.

A grin spread across Ernest’s face ‘Why if I wrote dime store novels about him?’ Ernest thought ‘I’d nick his stories as inspiration.’ He thought ‘Change the location and some of the particulars of course’ he thought wisely, not wanting to cause trouble for the man.

‘It was that moment’ Mac read the words over 100 years later, in a diary his great grandfather had kept for many years, ‘when I had my ah ha. My epiphany; if by chance, my words fall into your hands, reader, it will be because my words still  have some value in the world, that they mean something. Well I guess, I achieved something in my life, outside my marriage which was worth keeping.

And the rest… as they say… was history. Or at least…a legend.”

Chapter Text

Sam and Jack sat with Mac in Jack’s yellow kitchen drinking coffee and eating the stale donuts from the team night last Friday.

“Carter… What– do you think is possible? That Bub is Legend?” Jack asked with a wave of his hand. He acted sceptical but Sam knew him well enough to see part of him wanted to believe.

“Theoretically speaking, yes.” She said.

Jack gave her a speculative look before she continued. “We tend to think of time as being a straight line and we’re only able to travel one way along that line, forwards.” she explains. She clicks her fingers then pulls out a familiar stone-like object.

“What are you doing with that?” Jack asks her. “That’s classified.” 

“So is this whole conversation, sir, and I asked permission to bring it with me.” she hushed Jack. She handed Mac the stony object only to have it light up at his touch. “I knew it!” Sam smiled.

“Knew what?” Jack asked.

Sam smiled “You two both have the Ancient gene.” Her smile got wider as Jack and Mac didn’t hide their shocked expressions. “And what do we know about genes?” she asked them with an arch of her eyebrow that would have done Teal’c proud.

“They make our butts look great?” Jack questioned with a tilt of his head.

Sam and Mac both tried valiantly with varied success not to laugh at Jack’s terrible joke.

“Ancients? The Stargate builders?” Mac asked, feeling like he was lagging behind.

“We know that there are three distinctive types of Ancients: Seers, Engineers, and Command.” Sam nodded.

“Now based on the information we have from the translations done since we found the arch”, she continued, “all that digging did us some good. We had a multitude of information we previously had no clue about what it meant. One of these is that we now know these three groups broke into two different groups.” she said, starting to draw it all on a piece of paper for them. “The biggest group were the Command Ancients, and they were the strongest of the three groups. From what Daniel has been able to translate, most of the Command Ancients formed the Ori cult, believing that their way was the only right way, and that everyone should follow suit. Ironically those Ancients in the Ori group never left it and all those Command Ancients died with them, making the command gene the least likely one to be found in modern day man.” She took a breath and smiled at the two men. “What if both you and Mac inherited the Ancient gene, but Jack got the rare Command gene and Mac inherited the Seer gene.”

“What the heck is a seer gene?” Mac asked.

“It’s as it sounds.” Sam explained. “These Seer Ancients had the ability, without technology, were able to move back and forth through time. They had a natural ability to be able to do this without harming the timeline.” she explained. “This is where the other Ancients tried to mimic this ability with various degrees of success.”

“The time loop?” Jack started.

 “… was an early effort to create time travel, which we know was unsuccessful, but that didn’t stop them.” Sam continued. “Technology and understanding increased and evolved, which is when they created the timeships, which anyone with an Ancient gene of any type could pilot. They created a way to move back and forth in time just like the seers could, the only part they couldn’t mimic was their prophetic ability and their natural ability not to divert the timeline because they weren’t technically physically there, just there in spirit as it were.” Sam said with a note of triumph.

Mac looked worried “Are you telling me when I was dreaming, I was in the old west--”

“You were actually in the old west, yes.”

“Hold on. Why did I have to convince you Ernest was really okay, when you’ve met him too?” Jack questioned pointedly.

“I thought I was dreaming, Jonathan!” Mac snapped. “Besides, I never really put it together until I was older and how was I supposed to know he turned out alright? The guy I met was a gung-ho kid reporter with a drinking problem and an eye for the ladies.” Mac finished somewhat lamely to Sam and Jack’s knowing exchange of looks. Ernest hadn’t changed entirely obviously.

“You often bring back souvenirs from your dreams?” Jack asked sarcastically, picking up the old penknife.

“How is this possible?” Mac asked again, his expression clearly indicating he was overwhelmed.

“It’s not for most people. Today, the Ancient gene has been diluted through reproduction with humans, but we find people with different degrees of ability able to use ancient technology. Your seer ability has been diluted but it's also stronger than most, hence your ability to move back and forth in time, in your unconscious mind.” Sam explained. 

“This is impossible!” Mac said, amazed.

“Have you ever known something was true even when everyone else thought you were wrong?” Sam asked him. Mac thought back, amazed. He always knew when Murdoc was alive even when everyone else thought him dead. Not to mention the amount of time he ‘just knew’ something even when it sounded crazy when he tried to explain it out loud.

Mac’s shoulders dropped. “How come I couldn’t get a passive engineer's genes?”

“I think it's possible you have all three of them in your ancestry from various ancestors. We know you are both related to Merlin for instance, but your great grandmother could have had the gene too or even someone further back. Both you and Jack are natural leaders and brilliant engineers.” She gave Jack an impish grin. “Even if he pretends he’s not.”

Jack gave Sam a ‘who me’ look.

“Jack’s ability to sense danger could mean his Seer gene just isn’t as dominant as his Command gene or his Engineer gene.”

“It might be one of the reasons I was outside that time loop all those years ago.” Jack suggested quietly.

“That makes sense.” Sam nodded. “Your genetic ability along with that lightning bolt--”

“How come T--”

“By your own account, Teal’c was in that energy field with you, and your Seer gene along with the technology might have been enough to protect you and Teal'c from the effects.”

“But not you? Or Daniel?”

“Well, no. We were outside of that energy field, according to you.”

“You read that report really thoroughly.”

She pinked a little. “I just didn’t want to miss anything.” she admitted.

“Oh, there were things we left out of that report.” He said with a satisfied grin on his face, which was returned by a confused look on Sam’s face. He still hadn’t told her all the things he and Teal’c had gotten up to but considering they were doing some of those things in their spare time now anyway he didn’t suppose it mattered much.   

“Wait, so, these genes are passed down through families?” Mac asked thoughtfully.

“With what we know, yes.”

Mac looked off into the middle distance for a moment before he pointed out. “Wait a minute. Wait a minute, this could be dangerous. What if someone like Hitler had that knowledge.” 

“Not just Hitler.” Jack said quietly. “That sort of power in any one’s hands is dangerous.” 

Mac looked confused before it hit him. “Even the most virtuous of men would start believing they knew better, try to fix things, past or present to make the future better.”

“But they know better, so they start to dictate what happened and what happens when someone disagrees?” Jack added.

“Or worse yet, you destroy a past enemy only to find a more extreme version waiting in the side lines.”

“With the first one eliminated they are able to step forward.”

“And possibly not make the same mistakes which led to the original downfall.”

“That’s assuming the new person would know what happened, which was unlikely.” Sam pointed out to the two men sitting either side of her.

Mac shook his head “This is giving me a headache.” he said. “So why time travel at all?”

“It’s a dangerous game. I won’t lie, but the people that rescued us claimed to be from the future and were able to explain what would happen if we stayed and the future consequences.” Jack pointed out with an unhappy frown. “Good and bad.”

Mac nodded. Whatever they had told Jack, the good hadn’t been worth the bad or he wouldn’t have come back.

“When it comes to time travel, it's all relative.” Sam said with a little smile afterward and bit her lip as her eyes crinkled up in amusement. Mac chuckled and Jack scowled to hide the fact he thought it was actually quite funny. “And you know it would be nice in a way.” Sam admitted.

“Oh?”

“Some of Ernest Pratt’s greatest achievements are inspired by his two great grandsons.” Sam said, with a smile “I think that’s pretty special.” 

“Yah, you’re special all right.” Jack teased his cousin.

“Back atcha smartass.” Mac said to his cousin with an amused and affectionate chuckle.