by Cindy Combs
Author's notes: This story combines the universes of my TS/MacGyver series with the TS/Mag7:ATF story, 'Refuge'. It takes place about a year after 'Refuge' and 'Charming the Hawk' (March 2001). Since the relationships between Blair, MacGyver, and Sam are drawn in the first five stories 9'The Maze', 'Control', 'Coatlicue', 'Ares Bugle', and 'Heirs to a Nightmare'), I would recommend you may wish to read them first. The others since ('Hot Time in Chicago', 'In the Genes', 'Weardians and Witans', 'Haunting of Christmas Past', an 'Charming the Hawk') have also been referenced.
I'm sorry this one has taken so long to complete. I've been working on it since last June and had planned to have it done last fall. It's just been a long, dry writing spell.
For the TS fans unfamiliar with Mag 7:ATF, all of the guys and brief descriptions can be found in my story, 'Refuge', which I would recommend you read first. There is also a great 'Meet the Seven' page on Blackraptor's site that includes pictures, which can be found at:
In addition, a few events from episodes in Black Panther Production's Cascade Virtual Tales are mentioned. Evermore's 'In Absentia' from season six is the stepping stone for this story, but also included are Shallan's 'It's Not Just Academic', Emerald's 'Now He's a Cop' (both season 5), and my 'Brother Born for Adversity' (season 6). CVT can be found at:
Also, Jack O'Neill and Daniel Jackson of Stargate SG-1 will put in an appearance. They were 'introduced' to the TS/MacGyver characters in my story 'Weardians and Witans', and some references to will be made to the story.
I would also like to thank several people. Sealie, for all her patience and beta'ing; Rona, for helping me bounce around ideas, beta'ing, and generally keeping me off the ceiling; Toni Rae, for our talks about switching stations and the country's power grid; Zadra, for keeping my characters in character; Malu and Kerensa, for all their support and encouragement; and Wolfpup for her beta'ing and posting this and all my TS stories.
Please send any comments to [email protected]
Enjoy the ride.
Disclaimer: Most of characters are not mine. I'm borrowing them out of deep reverence, affection and respect. I will accept only personal fulfillment, and no monetary gain. If you do sue, you will not get much and I will send over my Black Lab mix, who will stare at you pathetically for hours and probably con you out of all your food.
Please do not reproduce, copy, or otherwise use any part of this story without permission from the author.
Rated PG-13, mostly for language. Trust me, these guys aren't saints.
SYNCHRONIZATION IN CHAOS
C.L. Combs
March 21, 2001, County Airport, Montrose, CO
"I'm sorry, Sam. I'd really planned to be there by now."
Sean A. Malloy, otherwise known as Sam, could hear his brother's regret over the phone line. "But you and Jim are flying in this afternoon, right?"
"Yeah, now that Kincaid has been put away forever." The exhaustion in Blair Sandburg's voice spoke volumes as to just how rough the federal court case had been on him. Of course, having to stop the following terrorist attempt to free the newly convicted felon hadn't been easy, either. "Just that by the time everything was wrapped up, I missed the early flight. You going on ahead?"
"Yeah, I need some time to unload. Just as long as you make it later, Indy."
"Trust me, I am NOT missing Mac's birthday this year, especially after missing his 50th last year. All the lawyers and D.A.s can go to hell."
Sam laughed out loud, picturing his peace-loving brother putting his words into action. "Okay, I'll have a fire going in Harry's cabin by the time you get there."
A low mumble was barely audible over the connection. "Jim asked how are the roads?"
"The rental rep I just talked to said they're fine. It's been a couple of days since the last storm. Just remember to take the back way to avoid avalanches."
"Will do. So there wasn't any trouble with you getting the Jeep?"
"Nope. Though it's still on your credit card. I'll have to pay you back."
"Don't worry about it. Jim's got a rental reserved for us when we get there. We should be to the cabin by dark, which gives us lots of time to catch up. Mac's not due in until tomorrow, right?"
"He better show up tomorrow. Sounds like he's still working that bombing case in Denver."
A snicker sneaked across the lines. "He'll make it. He wants to hear about India and your latest go round with your editor."
"Not to mention your latest adventure with Kincaid."
"Oh yeah. I'm sure Mac would've loved to have punched him in the nose again, or at least his lawyer. Anyway, I'll tell you all about it when I see you. And if there is ANY sign of Murdoc--"
Sam barely prevented a shudder. "I'll make a mad dash towards civilization."
"You better. See you later, Olsen."
"Bye, Indy." Smiling, Sam hung up the phone and walked out of the terminal. It was going to be a great weekend.
Remote militia outpost, Uncompahgre National Forest, CO
"STRATTON!"
A trim figure with chestnut hair and dressed in winter fatigues barely kept from flinching. Drawing on every layer of facade he had, the man currently known as Eric Stratton turned. "Sir, yes, sir!" He gave the large militiaman a sharp salute.
"Where have you been, Stratton?"
Knowing the real answer could get him killed, Stratton faked surprise at the question. "I was hooking up that radio like you asked, sir." His soft southern accent put special emphasis on the 'sir'. He knew the so-called Colonel Kelly liked the respect.
"Was that ALL you were doing?"
"Yes, sir." The man managed to look both puzzled and concerned at the same time. "Was there something else I should have been doing?"
"Well, Stratton, that's all WE asked of you."
Then another voice growled, "But you're not really working for US, are you Stratton?"
'Stratton' spotted another man step up behind the first. He had wondered if the newcomer would be trouble. Staying in character, he replied, "I'm sorry, sir. Who else would I be working for?"
"How about the ATF, Stratton? Or should I say, Agent Standish?"
Shit. "A. T. what, sir?" he asked, trying to look dumber than the rest of the mentally challenged crew. Behind his back, he pushed the button on the remote he held.
Then all hell broke loose. The communications building -- or 'ramshackle shed' in the agent's mind -- blew up. As fire and debris engulfed the clearing, ATF agent Ezra Standish ran for his life.
Federal building, Denver, CO
"...By vacuuming the powder off the tray, it can't set off the main explosive when you break into the case." MacGyver demonstrated using the suction tool he had carefully inserted into the caulking around the glass.
ATF agent Nathan Jackson nodded as his sharp brown eyes followed every move. Usually, it was his partner, Buck Wilmington, who handled the bombs. However, Buck was needed on their western slope case, so the task had fallen to him. It wasn't something Nathan liked to do. He hadn't had to defuse bombs since the army. Learning new tricks from someone who was obviously a master made him feel better, though. "Then you have to cut the wire leading to the screw attached to the trigger?"
"Right," Mac nodded as he demonstrated. He looked up at his pupil. "Think you want to give it a shot?"
Nathan sighed then nodded. "I want to make sure I can do this in case we come across any more of this maniac's handiwork. People's lives could be at stake."
MacGyver gave him a warm, understanding smile. "Then let's give it a go."
Agent Josiah Sanchez watched from the doorway. A life-long student of human nature, he not
ed the natural teaching style of the Phoenix expert. MacGyver led Nathan at just the right pace for his friend's comfort. The lanky man's intent, yet relaxed, pose indicated that he had extensive skill in the deadly field. Intelligence shone from the light brown eyes while the gray in his blond hair testified to his years of experience. Josiah was looking forward to sitting down with the man and swapping a few stories. It would be nice to talk with someone of his own vintage for a change.
A light tap on his shoulder brought his attention back to the hall. Their boss, Chris Larabee, stood behind him with a grim expression. "How's Nathan doing?"
"Appears to be doing pretty well." Josiah knew instinctively that Chris wasn't worried about Nathan. "What's wrong?"
If possible, the blond man dressed in black looked even grimmer. "The guys have lost contact with Standish."
Josiah pursed his lips, blue eyes growing concerned. "Do you think he's in trouble?"
"It's Ezra. Either he's wrapped all of Kelly's men in a big red bow for us, or he's neck deep in shit."
Josiah nodded, agreeing with the assessment. While all of their team had an affinity for trouble, Ezra did tend to go to extremes. "What do you plan to do?"
"I'm heading over. By the time I get there, Vin should have his initial recon done or JD may have found Ez's emergency tracker. Meanwhile, I want you and Nathan to keep working this bombing case. You're close, and I'd like to nail the bastard before he does any more damage."
Shifting on his feet, Josiah reluctantly agreed. "I'd rather be up there with the rest of you."
Chris nodded in understanding. "I'll keep you posted."
Pine Tree, CO
Sam quietly cursed to himself as he pulled into the tiny mountain town. "Candles. How in the heck did I forget candles?" With a sigh, he parked the navy blue Jeep Cherokee in front of a small general store. His brown eyes automatically scanned the quiet street as he slammed the door. The town was barely more than a handful of buildings. Apparently, Pine Tree wasn't included in the prosperity of 'white gold' that the ski resorts further south enjoyed.
Upon entering the store, Sam began searching for the candles. The walls and three small aisles were stuffed full of everything from milk to fishing gear. Making the task more difficult was the suspicious stare from the large man behind the counter. Sam's skin was crawling by the time he spotted a small packet of thin blue candles.
As he approached the counter, the man stated, "You're not from around here."
Sam forced himself to remain calm. "No, but my grandpa's cabin's near Ouray. I'm heading there." The glare didn't ease much. The young man was beginning to wish he had Blair's partner, Jim Ellison, with him. The former covert ops captain could have given the jerk a run for his money in a stare down competition.
Finally, the man rang up his purchase. "Dollar, fifty."
Sam counted out the change, deciding not to mention that the price on the packet was 99 cents. He only wanted to return to the jeep as fast as he could.
As the man slid his money off the counter, he leaned into Sam's personal space. "And a piece of advice: Stay down around Ouray." Sam stared into the man's eyes evenly for a moment before turning to the door.
Once outside, Sam's uneasiness grew as he noted the street was no longer quiet. Several men in white and gray fatigues now roamed the wooden sidewalk. They appeared to be searching for something. Deciding he really didn't want to know what was going on, Sam walked to the jeep. He ignored the hostile stares while noting he should call Sheriff Connor when he got to the next town. Opening the passenger's side door to the back seat, Sam came face-to-face with a man in similar fatigues who was scrunched down on the floorboard.
The man stared up at him calmly, though his face was white with tension. "I hate to impose," he whispered softly in a deep southern accent. "But I am an undercover federal agent for Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, and I require discreet transportation. My life is in your hands."
Fighting back any reaction, Sam tucked the candles into his pack on the seat. He casually closed the door and walked back to the driver's side. He turned the engine and put the jeep into gear, totally ignoring the stranger hiding behind him as he drove. Once the town disappeared behind a curve in the rearview mirror, Sam softly called out, "We're clear."
Releasing a long-held breath, the other man pushed the pack out of the way and pulled himself into the front passenger's seat. "I am forever in your debt, Mr....?"
"Sam Malloy."
"Mr. Malloy, I am Agent Ezra Standish. I would most appreciate it if you could drop me off at the nearest sheriff's office."
Sam chuckled. "No problem. I was just thinking I should tell Sheriff Connor there was something strange going on in that town."
Ezra studied his traveling companion intently. "You are acquainted with the county sheriff?"
"Friend of my Dad's. My great-grandpa's cabin's between here and Ouray, and my dad often goes fishing with Connor." Sam gave the agent a sideways look. "You really an agent?"
"Yes, but I fear I have no identification. A drawback to undercover work."
Sam sighed. He was going to have to go with his gut instincts, which told him the man was an agent in deep trouble. Besides, the name Standish sounded vaguely familiar. Sam couldn't place it, but he didn't think it was bad.
"So, are you a former resident of this locale?" Ezra pried.
"No. I grew up here and there, and my job keeps me moving. Right now, Dad lets me leave my stuff in his apartment in L.A."
Ezra nodded, absorbing the information the lanky young man had provided. "And what exactly is your employment, Mr. Malloy?"
"It's just Sam, and I'm a photojournalist."
Ezra closed his eyes a moment. "So the price of my liberation is a front page account of my bungled assignment?"
Sam flashed him a reassuring smile. "No. I do mostly international humanitarian stories." Noticing his new traveling companion did not look convinced, he added, "Besides, I couldn't be objective on a U.S. law enforcement story. My brother's a police detective, so I know how hard that line of work can be."
A small smile finally slipped across the agent's face. "So you would side with the enforcers?"
Sam's deep chuckle finished breaking the tension. "Much to the dismay of my editor." He covertly glanced at the agent, noting the tears in his white jacket. "Are you hurt?"
"Only my pride." Ezra sighed and shook his head. "I thought I had successfully infiltrated the suspect group until my identity was unexpectedly revealed this morning."
Sam frowned as he put the pieces together. "Militia?"
Ezra slowly nodded. "Are you familiar with militias?"
"Mostly stories from my brother. One abducted him a few years ago and conveniently cracked a couple of his ribs while he was sick with the flu." Sam's face darkened with memories. "It took Blair several months to get back up to speed after that."
"The reason for the abduction?" Ezra inquired softly.
"They were using Blair to get at his partner. Plus Blair had outwitted the leader a few times, so he wasn't exactly their favorite person."
"Ah," Ezra nodded. "Such a dastardly technique has been used against my teammates. Cowardly, but unfortunately effective."
"Yeah, that certainly describes the jerk. Still glad Dad broke that damn leader's nose when they captured him."
Ezra smiled as he checked the road behind them. "I suspect I would enjoy your father's company."
Sam chuckled. "Yeah, Dad most certainly has his moments." Then his eyes widened. "Oh, oh."
Ezra turned around to spot the two large trucks blocking the road well ahead of them. Men with shotguns stood in front of the vehicles. "It would appear our subterfuge has been exposed."
"That's one way of putting it." Sam searched their surroundings as he slowed the Jeep, praying they hadn't been spotted yet. Noting a snow and dirt covered track, he pulled a sharp right.
"Any idea as to where this road leads?" Ezra asked as he grabbed the seatbelt.
&n
bsp; "Nope. But there's a topo map in the back seat."
Ezra leaned back to snatch the item as the Jeep rocked on the rugged trail. "I see you come prepared."
"Something I've learned the hard way."
Cascade International Airport, Cascade, WA
Captain Simon Banks watched as Jim Ellison approached, carrying his boarding pass and carry-on. His best detective team had had a difficult couple of weeks. There was a weariness in Jim's eyes, which was only a fraction of the exhaustion Simon had noticed in Blair Sandburg's. The attempts to discredit Blair's integrity by the defense had been hard on both men. Thus, the trip to Colorado to spend time with Blair's family was a perfect way for the partners to unwind. "Where's Sandburg?"
Jim glanced over his shoulder. "Still at the counter."
"Trouble?"
"Brunette."
"Should have known." Simon glanced around, spotting Sandburg still chatting. "Well, I probably should head back."
"Thanks for giving us a lift." Jim patted his friend on the shoulder.
"Well, there is one thing I wanted to mention."
Jim lifted an eyebrow. "We're on vacation, Simon."
"I know," the captain growled. "Unfortunately, the militias are not."
It was easy to follow Simon's train of thought. Jim could feel his stomach clench. "Has there been threats?"
"No. But you and Sandburg, especially Sandburg, were key witnesses in Kincaid's trial. It's a good bet that the Sunrise Patriots and a few of their friends may hold a grudge." Simon then gave Jim a smirk. "Besides, you're going to have three MacGyvers under the same roof. You keep telling me how Malloy and Mac are just as good at attracting trouble as Sandburg."
"Like nails to a magnet," Jim admitted.
"Well, keep an eye out. I don't want to have to fly in and rescue you."
Jim smiled. "Sure? Would give you an excuse to see Colorado again."
"I prefer seeing it when the water's running and the fish are biting."
"What fish?" Blair piped up as he joined them.
"Just explaining why I'm staying here, Sandburg."
