MacGyver

- - _

57, 56, 55,

54, 53, 52,

- 51... - Are you really gonna count

every floor on the way down?

I used to do this as a kid.

I thought it'd keep the elevator from stopping.

Well, I can assure you right now, it doesn't work.

You just had to interrupt the flow, didn't you, huh? - Don't.

This stoppage is on you, dude.

- No. - Yes, it is.

Merry Christmas.

- Merry Christmas. - Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas.

Come on in.

It's okay. Come on.

Isn't he supposed to be carrying the bag?

Right. Right.

Yeah. Here you go, Santa.

There's your bag.

Santa?

MacGYVER: Uh-huh?

Why are you in our elevator?

Well...

Funny thing about apartment buildings

is they don't have fireplaces.

Ho, ho.

Your bag is moving and making noise.

That is a new toy.

T-Tickle Me Tony.

- Tickle Me Tony. - Can you turn that off, Rudolph?

Yeah, where is that on-off switch again?

I got it. Think that's got it.

- Excuse me, ma'am. - Go, go, go.

J-Just so you know,

we're not weird.

- - We're the good guys.

S02E11 Bullet + Pen

So you got it?

Cool. I was worried somebody else would find it.

First time I ever used a dead drop

to send a Christmas gift.

I'm glad you like it.

Can't wait to see what you got me.

I'll call you the moment I have it in hand.

I miss you, too.

Who do you miss?

My, uh... dad!

He was just making sure

I didn't need any... pastrami help.

Which reminds me, Ms. Davis,

last year, I never got a chance to finish telling you

about the Bozer family tradition

of Christmas pastrami.

How about you don't tell it,

and we keep this tradition going?

You know what I mean?

And deprive you of all of this yuletide joy?

No way! No, you know you like it.

Now, we all know Christmas is

the most wonderful time of the year.

It makes you feel...

MacGYVER: I'm just saying.

Why do you do this every year, dude?

MacGYVER: Prove he's not real.

Santa is not real, okay?

You nerd. Thanks.

And please, spare me your math that claims

to support his existence. It's annoying.

Thank you.

You're not a grown man who believes in Santa, are you?

I'm a grown man who cannot rule out the existence of Santa.

Two different things. 'Cause if you think about it...

the rotation of the Earth, different time zones,

and the latest research into Einstein-Rosen bridges...

You've been on this Santa kick forever.

When I found out that Jack didn't believe in Santa,

I derived some equations to help change his mind,

but the math only confused him more.

Okay, so you know what this doofus does, huh?

He breaks into my apartment dressed as Big Red,

sets up a tree,

and crams a bunch of gifts underneath there.

Yeah, but he caught me before I could finish.

Well, be honest, Jack.

Did you think it was Santa? Even for a moment?

If he took a year and went on a juice cleanse, yeah.

I had a pillow under my coat.

You looked pregnant.

So it didn't, it didn't really work?

No, man, I thought he was an intruder.

- He almost shot me. - Yeah, you're lucky

you didn't get shot, okay?

Now, listen, even if the Red Reindeer Rancher is real,

breaking and entering is still a felony.

In some progun states,

it's best just to leave those gifts

right there on the front porch. Know what I'm saying?

What about you?

Oh, like, do I believe in Santa?

- Yeah. - I have yet to see proof,

but I keep an open mind.

- See? - Come on.

You guys hungry?

Ah, yeah, bring on the eats.

- Okay. - This is so lovely, guys.

I haven't been home to see my sister in years,

so this is my first Christmas

in a long time

with, um...

Family? Go ahead. You can say it.

If you don't, they're gonna make you. They made me.

That's what we are, after all, as crazy as it sounds.

- I will drink to that. - I will, too.

Cheers, guys.

- Cheers. - Cheers.

Hey, there she is.

What's wrong, boss?

I'm sorry, guys, but Christmas is on hold.

What?

Why?

- Because we have a problem. - What kind of problem?

You know that bomb that you built last week?

Which one?

The one he exploded in Angola when our cover got blown

or the one in L.A. when we, uh, went with the bad intel?

- Los Angeles. Mm-hmm.

It appears that our intel was even more incomplete

than we realized.

That building wasn't empty.

The maintenance man, a civilian

named George Ramsey, died when a section of the wall

collapsed on him.

I'm sorry. Are you saying that I killed a civilian?

No, no, wait a minute.

I cleared that building myself.

It was empty. Don't start playing the blame game...

The game's already started, Jack.

The LAPD has a warrant for your arrest, Mac.

They're on their way here now.

What?

No, this is crazy.

So how do we get Mac out of this?

I don't know.

You don't know? Well, guess what, that's not good enough.

I assure you, Jack, that calls will be made.

But right now, this is happening.

And we all need to maintain our covers.

Don't-don't-don't worry, Mac, we'll get you out of this.

You hear me?

I promise.

- Angus MacGyver? - Yes.

You're under arrest for the murder of George Ramsey.

You have the right to remain silent.

Anything you say

can and will be used against you in a court of law.

You have the right to an attorney.

If you cannot afford one,

one will be appointed for you by the court.

What were you doing in that warehouse, Mr. MacGyver?

You don't feel like talking?

That's okay.

You just sit back and relax. I'll show you some pictures.

This is what it looks like when someone drops a building on you.

The man you killed was married.

Two kids.

Six and eight.

Worked three jobs just to provide.

You got somewhere to be?

Look at me.

I said look at me.

There ain't gonna be

no Christmas miracle for you, pal.

You're here.

For good.

So you might as well start talking.

Okay, Mac can't say anything.

Okay, no matter what the cops throw at him,

he cannot reveal that he's a covert agent

working for the U.S. government.

Murder charges are bad, but violating the Espionage Act?

Way worse.

I covered all of our digital tracks

and scrubbed all the cameras.

What evidence could they possibly have?

You tell me. You're the tech nerd in this mod squad.