by Cindy Combs
Mac pulled back Blair's newly shorn locks to look at the swollen eye. Without the extra weight, curls were rioting in all directions. Icy fingers of anger began growing inside Mac as he examined the bruises. Noting the cuffs, Mac pulled out his Swiss army knife and quickly picked the locks.
Mac was just finishing when Jim touched Blair's bruised ribs. Blair gasped softly in pain. Mac gently took Blair's hand, trying to offer comfort. "Does it hurt to breath?" Jim whispered as he lightly felt the ribs. Blair shook his head no as his grip tightened on Mac's hand. "Does it hurt to cough?" Jim inquired. Blair briefly nodded his head. Glancing over Blair's head to Mac's worried eyes, Jim mouthed, 'cracked rib'.
Mac again forced back the icy, unfamiliar anger inside him. He had to keep his head in order to get Blair to safety. He laid his other hand across Blair's forehead, feeling the fever trying to break through. "Let's get your arms in this coat and get you out of here."
Blair tried to smile. "Sounds good to me," he said faintly. Mac gingerly helped Blair further into the coat.
"Okay, Chief, put your arm around my neck, " Jim softly ordered, reaching for the arm in question.
"I can walk," Blair insisted hoarsely.
"Sandburg, you're not wearing any shoes," Jim pointed out.
"Oh yeah."
With Mac's help and a gasp from Blair, Jim managed to settle the young man into his arms. Damn, the kid was heavier than he looked. Yet with Blair's coughing and cracked rib, Jim didn't dare use a fireman's carry.
Mac quietly mentioned, "I saw a jeep in the compound out front."
"Me, too," Jim replied. "It should get us to where we can meet up with Banks and Dalton."
As quickly and as silently as they could, Jim and Mac slipped through the building. Jim paused a moment when he heard steps behind him. "We've got company," he whispered. Quickly, Mac opened a door and they stepped outside. Jim had no time to give a warning when the clicking of several guns surrounded them.
"Just where in the hell do you think you're going, Mr. Ellison?" Kincaid demanded, stepping out of the shadows. "And Mr. Fillmore. Why would you throw away such an opportunity to help scum? I don't think you understand how our army handles treason." The guards around them aimed their guns. Jim tensed in preparation for the feel of bullets, while Blair shook in his arms with more than cold.
MacGyver stepped in front of Jim and Blair and stared at Kincaid. "What I understand is that you can not operate the Ares Bugle facility without me. What you don't understand is that my cooperation is directly proportional to that young man's health, and both are currently pretty low."
Kincaid reexamined the man in front of him. The mild-mannered, easily manipulated computer nerd was gone. In his place stood a man much smarter, tougher, and a lot less malleable. "Are you really Dexter Fillmore?"
"Yes."
"What do you want?"
"I want Sandburg in a hospital."
"Unacceptable."
"Then I want warm blankets, food, medicine, and clothing for him."
"And a First Aid kit," Jim inserted.
"And a First Aid kit," Mac repeated.
Kincaid and MacGyver stared at each other for several moments. Finally, Kincaid replied, "We can negotiate."
From the shadows, another man slipped away. The questions the assassin had were now answered. If the young man was not MacGyver's son, then he was a close second. Should he warn Kincaid that his computer expert Fillmore was really an ex-DXS agent named MacGyver? Pondering a moment, he finally shook his head. No, he could care less what happened to the Sun Rise Patriots since he already had a hefty advance. However, a second young man may enhance his future plans of revenge on his long-time nemesis. He would go to Cascade to wait for the moment of his grand assassinations. However, he doubted he'd actually have the opportunity to complete them. MacGyver was more than a match for Kincaid.
Monday, 9:45 am, National forest in Washington State.
Simon had been pacing back and forth next to the van for what seemed like forever. He didn't know if not hearing from Ellison for this long was good or bad. How long did it take to rescue an anthropologist? Though if the anthropologist in question was Sandburg...
"Damn," a voice swore from the back of the van.
Simon instantly jumped back in, with Taggart and Rafe right behind him. "What's up?" he asked Dalton. Craig from the front seat turned to await the answer as well.
Jack rubbed his hand over his eyes before answering. "The tracking device just started."
"The tracking device?" Rafe questioned.
"The one Mac planned to activate if they ran into trouble."
Simon closed his eyes. No. He could not lose his best team just like that.
"Damn," Taggart repeated Jack's earlier response. "Now what do we do?"
"Plan B," Jack replied.
Simon gave Jack a fierce glare. "Plan B? You guys came up with a Plan B?"
"We didn't discuss a Plan B," Craig stated in confusion.
Jack gave them a grim smile. "Mac almost always has a Plan B. For that matter, he usually thinks up Plans C and D on the fly."
"So let's hear it!" Taggart eagerly demanded. He wasn't going to let Kincaid get three of his friends if he could help it.
Monday, 10:00 a.m., Sun Rise Patriot's Base
Jim gently tucked the blanket around a restless Blair. Kincaid had locked them in the room he had originally given to Fillmore. They had placed Blair in the lower bunk, slipping the two pillows under his head and shoulders. None of the other supplies Mac had requested had appeared yet. Blair's fever was shooting higher and the cough was becoming more pronounced. Jim felt unusually helpless. His guide needed medicine and rest, and he wasn't in control of either. He knew the only reason any of them were alive was due to Mac's usefulness and demands.
"Fire, ~cough, cough~ Fire People," Blair began to hoarsely call out.
Oh hell. Jim sat on the side of the bed and laid a hand on Blair's shoulder. "Settle down, Chief. You're safe, there are no Fire People here." Mac handed him a washcloth soaked in cool water. He wiped it over Blair's increasingly hot face.
"No, Jim, ~cough~ you can't see them, ~cough, cough~, I gotta ~cough, cough~ be ~cough~, your eyes, man. ~cough, cough~"
Mac glanced in puzzlement at the stricken Jim, who gently moved his hand to Blair's head. "It's okay, Blair."
"No, ~cough, cough~, Golden Fire People, ~cough~, they're burnt, ~cough, cough~, but still get you." Blair continued to cough deeply. Jim could hear the same restriction beginning in Blair's lungs that had been in Brown's while he was sick with bronchitis. His hand returned to Blair's shoulder when the young man attempted to sit up.
"Easy, Blair. Easy," Mac soothingly offered. He gently pushed back the damp curls from Blair's face. "Jim and I are here, we won't let the Fire People get you." Who are the Fire People? Some myth from a culture Blair had studied?
"Mac?" Blair turned fever-dazed eyes to his other friend. "~cough, cough~, You gotta protect Jim, ~cough~, he can't see, ~cough, cough~, he can't see them."
"I will, Blair," Mac solemnly reassured him. "I won't let anyone hurt you or Jim."
"Promise?" Blair's hand closed around Mac's arm.
"Promise." Man, I hope I can keep that promise.
With a little more coaxing, Blair drifted into an uneasy sleep. Mac gently removed Blair's relaxed hand and slipped it under the covers. He glanced at Jim. "Fire People?"
Jim tiredly rubbed his eyes. "Long story."
"Sounds like you and I have a lot of long stories to trade after this," Mac quietly remarked, studying Blair's face. He quietly memorized the pale and bruised features, so similar to Naomi's. When did this enthusiastic young friend get such a tight hold on my heart? Since the moment you began suspecting he might be your son, stupid.
Jim tilted his head when he heard footsteps approach. Noticing the action, MacGyver's attention turned to the door as well. Two guards entered. "Kincaid wants to see you," they demanded to Fillmore.
Mac and Jim traded looks. "Not until we get some medicine for Sandburg," Fillmore replied.
A third man entered, carrying an extra blanket and several bottles. Mac and Jim again traded looks. With a final glance at Blair, Mac turned and walked out with the Patriots.
As he was escorted down the halls, MacGyver quietly steeled himself for meeting Kincaid. There was no doubt that it would not be nearly as pleasant as the first one. He just hoped that Jack was able to pick up the signal from the device he had activated and dropped outside earlier. However, Mac wasn't sure how long it might take them to reach this remote base, or whether they would be able to get through all the militia men outside. He and Ellison certainly hadn't had much luck. Though with most of their attention on Blair, it wasn't too surprising.
The lead guard knocked on Kincaid's door, then ushered Mac inside. Kincaid was standing in front of his desk, waiting. For a long moment, he and Mac traded stares. Mac concentrated on the upcoming battle of wills to prevent his anger over Blair's condition from resurfacing.
Kincaid broke the silence. "Are you still willing to work for me?"
Like I have a choice? "Yes, if you guarantee that you will let Sandburg and Ellison go free afterwards."
Kincaid paused for a moment. "Why are you so concerned about them?"
Might as well give him part of the truth. "They saved my son's life."
"A debt to be repaid?"
"In a manner of speaking."
"Where is this son?"
Oh, this could get tricky. "He is currently working in Central America." Just don't ask for his name, because I have no intention of giving it to you.
Kincaid studied MacGyver for another moment. "All right, I will release Sandburg and Ellison afterwards. However, you have to reprogram and run the Ares Bugle facility until I have what I want."
MacGyver nodded, though he had no intention of giving Kincaid that kind of power. As long as all three of them were alive, there was hope that either they would be rescued, or one of them would find a way out of this mess. Mac just had to stay alert to all the options.
As he was roughly pushed back into the room, MacGyver immediately checked for Blair. He quickly spotted him sleeping peacefully in the bunk. Ellison was sitting up in the chair next to the bunk, rubbing his tired eyes. Mac quietly walked over, softly asking, "How's he doing?"
Jim tilted his head slightly, using his senses to double-check his friend. "The fever is lower and he is sleeping deeper. Probably due to all the medicine I forced down him. His lungs are sounding a little worse, though."
Mac frowned. "Pneumonia?"
Jim shook his head. "Not yet. Sounds more like bronchitis."
Amazing what things Jim could determine using his heightened senses. Mac studied the sleeping form. "At least he isn't coughing so much."
"Not at the moment, anyway," Jim replied wearily. He looked up to meet Mac's eyes. "How'd your meeting go?"
Mac shrugged. "I bought us some time." Jim was about to ask another question, but paused trying to stifle a yawn. "Why don't you grab the top bunk and get some sleep?"
Jim flashed a worried look at Blair. "I'm all right."
"You haven't had any sleep since this whole thing started, have you?" Mac softly stated. Jim shrugged. "Ellison, you won't be doing anyone any good if you don't get some sleep soon. I'll keep an eye on Blair and wake you if he gets worse."
Jim sighed and relented, "Okay, but wake me up in a few hours."
"Deal," Mac agreed, thinking that a 'few hours' could easily be stretched to several.
Jim stood up slowly, trying to work out some of the kinks in his long form. With another yawn, he climbed into the bunk and slipped under the blanket. He was soon asleep, using his arm to rest his head on.
Mac quietly sat in the chair Jim had just vacated, watching Blair sleep. He looked so battered, so pale, almost fragile. The unfamiliar anger was back, an icy beast Mac was not use to combating. He forced it down again. He needed a clear head to figure out their next move. He couldn't let anything more happen to his son.
Monday, 1:47 p.m., Cascade Police Headquarters
The first thing Steven Ellison noticed when he pushed open the door to Major Crimes was how quiet it was. During other visits, the place had been crawling with loud activity. This time the room was nearly empty, filled with a quiet tension so tight, Steven was afraid a whisper would break it. He spotted Henri Brown inside Banks' office, door slightly ajar. That was weird. Where was Simon? For that matter, he didn't see Jim, Blair, or even Rafe around. Was it due to the flu, or was the rumor true?
At the soft knock on the door, Henri lifted his head from his daze, coughing. Oh hell, it was Jim's brother. Now what was he going to do? "Uh, hi Steven."
"Hi Henri," Steven greeted, looking around the office. "Have you seen my brother?"
Henri took a quick breath and stuck to the bare truth. "No, I haven't seen him in a while."
Steven drilled him with blue eyes that were so like Jim's. "You know where he is?"
"Ah, no, not exactly," Brown nearly stuttered, then coughed again. Oh, that was good, Henri. Let's just make a huge red sign saying something big is going down.
A sign Steven quickly read. He continued to stare at the uncomfortable detective. "Jim was supposed to meet me for dinner yesterday."
Great. Jim probably forgot with everything else going on.
"Now, for Jim to miss dinner isn't all that big a deal. I know his work is unpredictable at times. What is unusual is that he normally calls." Henri sank lower in his chair as Steven continued. "So I tried to reach him. He isn't at the loft, he isn't at work, he isn't even answering his cell phone. That felt rather wrong to me. So I tried to reach Blair at the University this morning. Finally had an enlightening conversation with the department secretary. Apparently, no one has seen Blair either. The rumor, which she didn't really believe, is that he was abducted off campus this weekend."
Henri closed his eyes against the growing glare of the blue ones above him. He could have been nicely tucked in bed, reading that book by Charlie Spring he never seemed to finish. But no, he insists on trying to help Sandburg, and ends up facing the younger Ellison. Who at the moment looked almost as dangerous as the elder one.
The expression on Henri's face said it all. Steven could feel the heavy fear, in his gut since hearing the rumor, grow colder. Oh God, Blair was in trouble and very deep trouble from the looks of it. Which of course meant that Jim was up to his eyeballs in it as well. Steven ran a hand over his dark blond hair. He was only just getting back on the right foot with Jim. Plus, he had quickly grown to like the quirky young man who played mediator between the two brothers. It scared him to think of something happening to either of them. And if it scared him, what was it doing to Jim?
Steven reached for a chair, flipped it around, and sat down backwards to face Henri. Draping his long arms over the back, he stared his 'no nonsense' stare he had perfected during his business dealings. "All right, Henri. Tell me exactly what is going on."
Brown opened his mouth and began catching Steven up.
Monday, 2:57 p.m., Sun Rise Patriot's Base
~Cough~
Mac watched as Blair's head briefly shifted on the pillow, then settled back down. The cough was coming back, but not enough to wake the young man yet. However, it had apparently registered on sensitive sentinel ears, as evident by the shift in the bunk above.
Jim quietly focused his hearing. Blair wasn't sleeping as deeply and the bronchitis was still progressing. Damn. While the medicine was helping to ease the symptoms, Blair really needed antibiotics at this point. Hell, what he really needed was to be in his own bed back at the loft.
Jim leaned over the edge and caught Mac's eye. "How'd you sleep?" the older man asked.
"Like a log," Jim admitted. He quietly climbed down, reflecting he felt like he could have slept longer. "What time is it?"
"Almost three," Mac replied.
Jim noticed that Mac also looked tired. He glance
d back at his guide, then at Mac. "Maybe you should get some sleep, too."
Mac shrugged. "I'm not sure how much time we'll have here." At Jim's questioning glance, Mac continued, "The Ares Bugle facility is in Idaho. Kincaid will have to transport us there."
Jim pulled up a chair closer to the bunks. "Tell me about this Ares Bugle."
Mac quickly explained the purpose of the facility and what Kincaid wanted to use it for.
"So this is the facility I'm suppose to break into," Jim commented thoughtfully.
"It won't be easy," Mac sighed. "It uses a combination of ancient and modern booby traps with both electronic and mechanical triggers."
"Jim, ~cough~, you can't go alone, ouch."
The older men quickly turned to Blair, trying to sit up and not jostle his injured ribs. Mac quickly helped to ease him into a half sitting, half reclining position, while Jim grabbed the extra blanket, slipping it behind him. The large blue eyes gazed steadily at his partner. Jim was thankful that they looked less feverish and more alert. "I mean it, Jim. ~cough, cough~ Remember what happened with Brackett."
Jim frowned as he reached over to squeeze Blair's shoulder reassuringly. He had zoned right in the middle of a mine-laden walk that time. If it hadn't been for Blair pulling him out, he would have stepped or fallen on a live mine.
"Jim!" Blair hoarsely insisted, starting another coughing fit. Jim continued to rub the shoulder until he finished, feeling the cough robbing Blair of his strength. Then gently he made Blair lean back onto the pillows.
Mac handed a bottle of water and a couple pills to Blair. "Take these and drink."
Blair frowned at the small objects in his hand. "I hate taking drugs, man."
"Well, I don't think Kincaid will let us tromp through the woods for your herbal remedies, Chief," Jim countered. "Take them."
With a sigh of defeat, Blair tossed the pills into his mouth and drank a few swallows of water. He glared back at Jim. "I still mean it about you handling booby traps and triggers by yourself."
Jim sighed. "I know, Chief. We'll cross that bridge when we get there." With that cough, Jim didn't want his friend anywhere near any kind of triggering device.
