Follow the Tiger

by Cindy Combs

  A deep chuckle greeted him as he turned around. "I would say that's debatable." Sam had one eyebrow raised at him.

  Cory simply shrugged as he balanced the pot on the stove. "I doubt that, Samuel."

  "My name's not Samuel."

  Now Cory's eyebrows lifted. "No? What's Sam short for?"

  "It's my initials, S-A-M."

  "What's the 'S' stand for?"

  "Sean." Sam shrugged his shoulder. "Always sounded a bit girly to me."

  "The 'A'?"

  Sam smirked. "Something awful."

  Cory couldn't help the smirk gracing his own face. "Yeah? It can't be any worse than my first name."

  "Cory's not that bad."

  "Cory's my nickname. My full first name has got to be worse than your middle name."

  "Wanna bet?"

  "Bet."

  The two of them stared at each other for a moment.

  "Angus."

  "Cornelius."

  They each paused a moment in thought. Then together, they replied, "You win." They both broke into laughter.

  Once he could breathe again, Sam asked, "How did you get named Cornelius?"

  "It was my Dad's grandfather's name. Mom had only been in the U.S. for about a month, so I suspect she had no idea what she was doing to me."

  Sam chuckled again. "Well, my mom loved Angus. I think it was partly because it's my Dad's name. Which is pretty funny, considering how Dad avoids using it."

  Still chuckling, Cory pulled two metal cups out of the duffle. "At least I can get a decent nickname out of Cornelius. What does your Dad do with Angus?"

  "Nothing if he can help it. I've only heard Dad say it once, he hates it so much. A sort of cousin of ours calls him Gus, but I think O'Neill's the only one with the guts to do it."

  Cory nodded as he pulled out the coffee bags. "Yeah, can't say Gus is much better." He leaned forward, hissing when the movement placed more strain on his knee.

  Sam frowned. "Still bothering you?"

  "Some, but much better than before." Cory shifted around, placing his Browning next to him. "In fact, that dial stuff worked a lot better than the meds the docs kept tossing down me."

  "That makes sense." Sam cradled his splinted wrist against his stomach. "Blair says that drugs work different on Jim."

  Cory didn't like that idea. "How come?"

  "I'm not sure Blair's certain, but he suspects that they interfere with Jim's control over the senses." Sam waved a hand at the knee. "That's probably your problem, too. I wouldn't be surprised if the trauma from your trip activated your senses, then the meds interfered with your natural controls."

  "So it's all a matter of control." Cory tapped his fingers on his leg. Self-discipline was familiar territory. He could handle it. "What do I need to do?"

  "Blair has come up with exercises and techniques that help Jim with his control. The dials are part of it. He says it's like anything -- the more you practice, the easier it is."

  Cory sent Sam a puzzled look. "You keep saying 'Blair says'. What does your friend Jim say?"

  Sam chuckled. "Not a lot, other than complaining about feeling like a guinea pig. Blair has the gift of gab, so Jim just lets him do the talking. But when Jim does say something, you'd better pay attention."

  Cory nodded, then looked out the enclave's entrance. Noting the distraction, Sam asked, "What's up?"

  "Thought I heard something. When my friend Toby hears about what happened last night, he'll be coming up here."

  "He'll know where to look?"

  "Oh yeah. We found this place back when we were teenagers. His family's old hound dog was trailing something while we were hiking one day and took off. We followed him and he led us here. We thought it was cool, so we made it our secret hideout."

  Chuckling, Sam nodded. "Sounds like fun." Pausing a moment, he asked, "How easy is it to find?"

  "Not easy at all, if you don't know where to look."

  "So Murdoc won't find us?"

  "The rain should have wiped out the bike tracks, but smoke could lead him here. That's why I'm switching to the stove." Cory glanced down at his Browning, then studied Sam. "You know how to handle a gun?"

  Sam's eyes narrowed. "Yeah. Took a course, and Jim's worked with me."

  Cory picked up the handgun and handed it to him. "Here. Just in case."

  Sam checked the safety, then the clip. "What about you? You know, just in case."

  "I'm set." Cory pulled out the Kay Bar.

  Lifting an eyebrow, Sam asked, "And once your friend Toby finds us?"

  Cory sighed. "I'm not sure. Depends on what information he has with him. If he says they've captured Murdoc, we can go."

  Sam pointedly glanced at his knee. "Any chance for a rescue chopper?"

  "Tobe's a deputy, so he should have some pull."

  "His last name wouldn't happen to be Nighthawk, would it?"

  Cory glanced at him. "Yeah. Why?"

  "He helped us out a couple of years ago." Sam leaned back against the rock. "Dad and Blair were abducted and brought out here. Toby went against the sheriff at the time to help Jim and I get them back."

  "You're kidding?" Cory looked at him, surprised. Then he paused. "Did Jill Rhodes help you, too?"

  "Yeah, she and her dad were a big help." At Cory's snicker, Sam asked, "What?"

  "Let me guess: you're the photojournalist."

  "Yeah. How'd you know?"

  "Oh, Toby's mentioned you."

  Before Sam could ask how Toby had mentioned him, Cory stiffened as he stared at the opening. Softly, Sam whispered, "What is it?"

  "Ah... Do you know anything about your sentinels seeing things?"

  "Like what?"

  "Well... like a black cat."

  "A black jaguar?"

  Cory glanced at him. "Could be. How'd you know?"

  A huge smile crossed Sam's face. "I think that means Jim's here."

  Suddenly, everything clicked into place. He followed a tiger. The other sentinel followed a jaguar. Life was never going to be the same again.

  Sam was in the process of standing. "They probably ran into Toby."

  Suddenly, Cory saw a spear flying towards the other man. Within a heartbeat, Cory knew he couldn't reach his new friend in time. His sight narrowed in on the spear. "SAM!" he screamed at the same instant he threw Bill's knife. As Sam dove to the ground, the knife hit the wooden shaft, deflecting the weapon. The weapon aimed at Sam's chest only nicked his shoulder before slamming into the rock behind him.

  "Not bad, Mr. Rescuer." A rugged, blond man of about fifty strolled into his line of sight. His gortex jacket easily blended with the rocks around them. In his hand was a grenade, thumb holding down the trigger. Cory felt his gut tighten.

  "Murdoc," Sam growled, holding his wounded shoulder.

  "Tsk, tsk, Junior MacGyver. Your papa should work on your manners, not dying when I want." Murdoc motioned for both men to stand up. "But since you've survived, I'm sure neither of you want to be here when I let go."

  Biting his lip, Cory managed to stand up, keeping as much weight off his bad knee as possible. Sam walked over to him and slipped his good arm under Cory's shoulders. Cory could feel the blood on Sam's hand soak into his shirt. He fought back a surge of anger. He didn't trust the psycho, but there was little he could do in the enclosure. He had to bide his time and hope an opportunity presented itself.

  Murdoc herded the limping pair between the boulders scattered about the entrance of the hideout. Cory blinked once in the sunlight when he again spotted the jaguar. The beast then merged into the brush, where Cory spied a man tucked within the growth. Blue eyes met brown, reached an understanding, then the other guy motioned him to the right.

  Allowing his knee to buckle, Cory suddenly forced Sam down and to the right. Once they hit the ground, Cory sent them rolling until they were behind a boulder.

  Murdoc suddenly found himself standing alone in the small clearing.

  "That's far enough." MacGyver stood up from where
he had taken shelter. Everyone else stayed hidden in the places they'd found after Jim's warning.

  "Ah, Papa MacGyver." The insane smile on Murdoc's face grew wider as he greeted his long- time nemesis. "Just when I and the kids were having so much fun."

  "This has nothing to do with Sam or Blair. This is between you and me."

  "You always were a bit of a spoil sport, MacGyver. Never wanting to play. Breaking the rules. Always whining about something. You never appreciated the game."

  "You're right about me never wanting to play. But if I played by your rules, I would have died a long time ago."

  "If we can't play by my rules, it's time to end the game."

  Blair saw the slight hand movement. Realizing he had to do something before his father had a live grenade in his lap, Blair fired.

  Murdoc's hand dropped the grenade as the bullet penetrated his wrist. He instantly dove for cover as Mac dropped back to the ground. Rocks and debris erupted into the air.

  Prepared, Jim jumped up as soon as the danger had passed. He was a hunter on the trail, all senses on alert, following the footsteps running towards the river. Only vaguely noting his guide's steps behind him, the sentinel tore after the prey who had dared to endanger his tribe.

  They raced as fast as they could through the rugged terrain. Hearing told the sentinel they were approaching the river. Suddenly, Jim stopped, shooting out an arm to keep Blair from passing him. They stood where the trees ended on a rocky clearing. Murdoc faced them, back to a sharp drop-off above the river. In his left hand was another grenade.

  "So here's the man whose life got the Junior MacGyver into trouble." Murdoc tilted his head, studying the pair. "Are you a fraud, young Blair? Or are you really a superman, Ellison? And which one of you violates MacGyver's creed of no guns?"

  "Doesn't matter to you," Jim snarled as he sighted his weapon. "You're done now."

  "No, I'm not." Murdoc drew back his arm to throw when Jim fired. The force of the bullet slammed Murdoc backwards. His arms flung outward as he fell into the gorge. Both heard the explosion as the grenade detonated. Jim and Blair dashed to the edge, seeing nothing but rocks and the white water roaring below.

  "Did you get him, Jim?" Blair asked, trying to see through the distant spray.

  "'We', Chief. And I know I hit him. We'll only know whether it did the job when the sheriff's department fishes out his body." With a sigh, he clapped a hand around the smaller man's shoulder. "Now let's check out the guy belonging to the good tiger."

  Blair fell into step beside his partner. "You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"

  "Nope."

  Hospital, Laramie, WY

  Cory leaned against the pillow, bunching the sheet in his fist. The doctor's exam had awakened the agony in his knee. The nurse had helpfully given him a dose of pain medication before Cory realized what it was. As Sam had predicted, he could feel the dial shift away from his control. Squeezing his eyes tight, he fought to keep from crying out.

  Then he noticed how sounds outside the room were becoming sharper. He could hear Toby talking to his mother on the phone, the nurses sorting through lunch trays, and janitor wringing his mop and dropping it to the floor.

  Then a sleepy voice reached his ears. "...can either do the surgery here, or wait until I'm back in L.A." Like a beacon in the dark, Cory could feel his hearing being drawn to Sam's voice.

  "Sure you should wait that long?" Cory thought the second voice was MacGyver, Sam's father.

  "It'll be fine, Dad. I don't feel that bad right now." Somehow, Sam's voice eased the tension within Cory's muscles.

  A third voice replied, "So says all the drugs running through your veins."

  "Well, Indy, I'm not complaining."

  A gentle hand squeezed his shoulder. "Cory? You okay?"

  Cory forced his eyes to open, finding the worried face of Jim Ellison as the older man stared down at him. Taking a deep breath, he replied, "I'm okay."

  Jim squeezed his shoulder a second time. "Want to try that again?"

  Cory gave him a weak smile. "I re-injured my knee. They say I need surgery."

  Jim sat in the nearby chair. "They going to do it here?"

  Cory shook his head. "I'll have to probably go back to D.C."

  "Sure?"

  As Cory threw him a puzzled frown, he suddenly heard Sam say, "Honest, Indy, they said no concussion."

  "Indy?" Cory whispered to himself.

  "Sam's nickname for Blair, short for Indiana Jones," Jim explained. He tilted his head to the side. "Sounds like Sam's wearing down, though. He'll probably be asleep in a few minutes."

  Cory suddenly stared at Jim. "You can hear them, too?" he asked.

  Jim nodded. "You're new at this, aren't you?"

  "Yeah." Cory paused, thinking. "But I don't understand. Sam said this sense stuff is genetic, but I don't ever remember being able to do things like this before."

  Leaning forward in the chair, Jim gave him a reassuring smile. "I repressed my senses for long periods. I didn't even remember using them as a kid until Blair started working with me. He and your friend Toby think they may have pegged when you repressed yours."

  Cory lifted his eyebrows. "Really? When?"

  Jim shifted uncomfortably. "Toby said you were in the car accident that killed your mother."

  "Yeah. It was a multi-car pile up." Cory swallowed hard. Even now it hurt.

  Jim winced. The image of a four-year-old sentinel forced to listen to his mother bleeding to death before help arrived was horrifying. "Trauma causes repression. Trust me, I've repressed enough to fill an encyclopedia."

  Involuntarily, a smile briefly crossed Cory's face. Then he took a deep breath. The man before him handled the senses. Surely he could help. "What do I do now?"

  Jim thought a long moment. "First off, you have to deal with them. Even if you manage to repress them again, they have a bad habit of coming back when you're least prepared for it. And it's a big package. There's a lot of stuff wrapped up in your senses that you'd never think would be involved. It changes your whole world." Seeing Cory frown, Jim continued, "However, Blair has shown me that what I called a curse is really a gift. I've been able to do things and help people through my senses that would not have been possible otherwise. You just have to learn how to handle them."

  "So it's all a matter of control?" Cory asked.

  "Yes. And speaking of control, there is one piece of advice I need to give you and it's the most crucial. Being a sentinel is a two-person deal. I couldn't do half of what I do without Blair's presence grounding me, and there is no one else I'd rather have protecting my back. You can't handle the senses without a partner."

  "So how do I find a partner?" Cory asked.

  A smirk lifted up a corner of Jim's mouth. "How's Sam doing?"

  "He's sleep..." Cory started, then stared at Jim. "Are you sure?"

  Jim shrugged. "Not up to me. What do you think?"

  Cory thought of the tiger leading him to the river and the Hawk. Leading him to what Grandmother had called his companion. He looked at Jim. "I'm willing to give it a shot, if Sam is."

  "Good enough." Jim's smirk turned into a grin. "I do need to warn you, though. You're getting another MacGyver. Trust me on this one, each member of that family can attract trouble like nails to a magnet. Gather them together and trouble is a sure thing. However, when trouble does hit, you can count on them to help get you out. They are smart and quick and can come up with inspired solutions on the fly. And be glad you're getting the quiet one."

  "What quiet one?" Blair asked as he entered. He gave Cory a friendly smile. "How are you feeling?"

  Cory sighed, glanced at Jim, and admitted, "Hurting."

  Blair pulled up another chair. "Well, I'm not Sam, but let's see if we can get those dials working."

  Two days later, Bill Nighthawk's cabin

  Cory sipped the tea again. "Definitely green. Lemon's in there, too. A touch of honey. And something else."

  Sam no
dded. "The box says ginseng."

  "That could be it." Cory glanced out in the yard. MacGyver and Blair were sanding down a wooden door to replace the one damaged by Murdoc. The lighter voices of Nikki, Lisa and Jill floated from inside where they were scrubbing the floor. The 'thumps' of Jim chopping wood could be heard from the back. Due to their status as invalids, Sam and Cory were stretched out on patio chairs. "Sure is nice of everyone to help out."

  Sam chuckled. "Well, considering you saved my life and found Rick's outlaw hangout, it's the least we can do."

  Cory laughed as well. "I can't believe those initials on the back wall of my and Toby's secret spot were actually done by the Hanson gang."

  "Rick sure is having a ball, even though he hasn't found the loot yet. Hope Toby doesn't mind."

  "Nah, Toby's just kicking himself that we didn't figure it out first." They fell silent again as Cory ran a finger around the glass. "You sure your dad doesn't mind me staying at his place?"

  "You're more than welcome." Mac walked over and reached down to pick up a third glass. "There is plenty of room at my new place."

  "Do you mind moving to L.A.?" Sam asked.

  "Nah. I like the West Coast." Cory took another sip of tea. "I'm just happy Phoenix is willing to hire me with you."

  Mac gave the young man a warm smile. "You would have been given an offer based on your computer skills alone. To Nikki, being a sentinel is just gravy."

  Blair chuckled as he reached for his own glass. "Yeah, she's been trying to get Jim and I signed up for years."

  Cory gave them a tired smile. Sam took a moment to assess him. "You're getting another headache, aren't you?" Cory could only nod. While they suspected that some of his headaches were part of being a sentinel, Jim had pointed out that the head injury would also give him trouble.

  Blair frowned. "You stretching your senses?"

  "Not really."

  "Almost zoned?"

  "No." The strain on Cory's face increased as Blair fired questions.

  "Have you taken more of your medication lately?"

  "Blair," Sam interrupted.

  "What?"

  "Back off."

  The brothers stared at each other a moment. Then Blair raised his hands in mock surrender. "Backing off."