by Cindy Combs
Joel knelt down next to the coughing Blair, laying a hand on his head. "He is burning up, Jim."
"That cough sounds worse than Brown's," Simon commented, frowning as he noted the much shorter hair length.
Jim briefly nodded, "He has some bruised and cracked ribs, too. Just get him to safety and to a doctor. I'm heading back. Mac got locked down with Kincaid."
Before Simon could stop him, Jim turned on his heels and ran back down the entry way. Dalton, Simon, and Ernie ran after him.
Monday, 10:25 p.m., Ares Bugle Central Command
Mac finally managed to shove Kincaid away and put the workstation between them. Wiping a bleeding cut above his eye, Mac fought to catch his breath while he and Kincaid circled the room. Earlier, Mac had managed to kick the gun into a floor vent, preventing Kincaid from retrieving it. Mac knew that with a couple taps on the keyboard, the partitions would open so he could get out. However, that would also free Kincaid to chase after Jim and his son. The cold anger over Blair's mistreatment at this man's orders was back. Mac would not let him get anywhere near his son again.
"I don't get it, Fillmore," Kincaid declared, focusing on the computer nerd who did not act like a computer nerd. "I gave you a good offer. Money, power, a chance to get back at the US government. Why did you betray me?" Unseen by either of the combatants, Jim had reentered the room.
"I don't believe in your fanaticism, Kincaid," Mac replied, searching for an opening. "And you should have never taken Blair."
"Sandburg?" Kincaid stated in disbelief. "Why should you care about some skinny, nobody scum like that?"
The ice in Mac's voice could have frozen an erupting volcano. "Because that brave, intelligent young man is my son."
Kincaid paused in surprise. Mac immediately launched himself over a table and tackled him. Before Kincaid could react, Mac slammed a fist into his face. Kincaid was out cold.
Trying not to shiver from reaction and exhaustion, Mac slowly stood up. Cradling his throbbing hand against his chest, he walked over to the workstation and typed a couple commands with his left hand. It was not until he lifted his head to see the partition move that he noticed his friends on the other side.
Monday, 11:00 p.m., Green Creek Clinic, ID
Grandfather felt the strong spirit of a shaman before Ben rushed out of his office. "They are here," he announced to his pacing friend.
Both turned as a stretcher rolled through the emergency entrance. Steve raced over, sharing a worried look with a huge black man following the stretcher. "Blair, can you hear me?" he asked as Ben started examining the slim man. Grandfather could hear the deep cough even from where he stood.
"Stev-en," a soft voice croaked.
"It's okay, kid, the doc here is a friend of mine," Steven reassured him, squeezing his hand. "He'll take good care of you." Steven and the black man stopped at the door as Ben pushed him into an examining room.
"How bad, Joel?" Steven softly asked, still staring at the door.
"He's bruised up, especially around the ribs. Mostly, he is just very sick."
Grandfather nodded. Yes, the young shaman was sick, but his spirit was strong. There was still much he had to do in this life. He would make it through.
Steven swallowed, almost afraid to ask his next question. Joel answered it before he could ask. "Jim's right behind us in the other helicopter. He's okay, just cold and exhausted."
Steven relaxed slightly, then lightly touched the door. "Let's hope Ben can give us some good news before he gets here." He turned, leading his friend over to Violet's coffee pot.
Ten minutes later, another rush of people entered. For an instance, Grandfather saw the big black cat leap into the room. Then vision cleared, revealing a strong white warrior whose eyes matched his grandson's friend. Eyes that were searching frantically around the room, then centered on the door where the shaman had gone.
"Jim!" Steven called out, trotting over to his brother. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Jim briefly gave his brother a hug. "Any word on Blair?"
Steven, noting the exhaustion in Jim's eyes, guided him to a chair. "Not yet, but Ben is with him. As soon as he's through, Ben will let us know what's going on."
"What happened to MacGyver?" Joel asked with concern as Ernie and Violet led Mac to an examining room.
"Had it out with Kincaid," Jim replied with a weary smile. "Hurt his hand breaking Kincaid's nose."
A huge grin broke out on Joel's face. "Good."
Steven wrapped a blanket around his brother's shoulders. "Violet's a nurse practitioner. She'll take good care of him."
Jim suddenly grabbed Steven's arm. Startled, Steven looked down into his brother's eyes, wondering what he had done wrong. The warm, grateful look surprised him. "Thanks for sending Ernie."
Steven relaxed and smiled, "Hey, I just got you back into my life again, with Hairboy as a free bonus. I don't intend to lose either of you."
Ben walked out of the examining room. Glancing around, he spotted Steve and walked over. The rest of the rescue party gathered as Jim stood up. Ben offered him his hand, "You must be Jim. I can see the family resemblance."
Jim shook his hand, studying the young doctor with concern. "How is Blair?"
"Definitely has had a hard time of it. Highlights are he has several bruised ribs, with a crack in one. Especially painful with that wicked bark, but that is starting to ease up with the medicine I have given him. I also gave him an antibiotic since he has developed bronchitis. His temperature was over 103 degrees when he was brought in, but it is also responding to treatment. Right now he is resting comfortably. With warmth, rest, and a less active lifestyle, he should be able to go home in a day or so."
The group relaxed and immediately began talking. Grandfather smiled. He had known his grandson's friend was special. Now he was beginning to understand why. A warrior and his shaman would be good to know if some day the tribe required their services.
Wednesday, 11 am, Ellison's Loft
Jim paused as he pulled up Blair's blanket, realizing his friend was already asleep. That wasn't too surprising, considering the long trip home, the pile of medicines, and the illness Blair was still fighting. While the flu was nearly gone, the ribs would take six weeks to heal and the bronchitis still had a tight grip on his lungs. Jim finished tucking in the blanket, studying his friend. His face would be black and blue for a while and it would take even longer for the hair to grow out again. The hair cut would probably be the hardest for Blair to get over. He always took such pride in his long locks. Still, it could have been worse. Jim was just glad to have his guide finally home safe in his own bed. Oh well, at least Blair could get in the last laugh. According to Joel, nearly half the Sun Rise Patriots were coming down with the flu, including Kincaid.
Jim stood up, considering the one last battle waiting for him on the balcony. It was just as important for Blair's well-being as the one against Kincaid. Yet it was a battle of words and emotions, areas Blair was much better at than Jim. However, Blair could not fight this one, at least not yet. After spending long hours thinking at the hospital, Jim knew what he had to do. He just hoped it was the right thing.
MacGyver stood on the balcony, staring out at the city of Cascade. His emotions were a tangled mess and Mac was not certain how to unravel them. It seemed incredible that there could be a second son he had not known about, yet in his heart he knew it was true. If only his mind could accept it as easily.
A door behind him opened and Ellison stepped out. Without turning around, Mac asked, "How's he doing?"
"Sound asleep." Jim stood next to Mac. "I just hope he has a chance to recover before his next little adventure. He just seems to attract trouble."
"I think it is genetic." Jim glanced at Mac in surprise. "Throughout my entire adult life, whether it is due to work, a friend, or simply out of the clear blue, trouble always finds me. It can be rather annoying. Then one day, while I am trying not to get killed in a warehouse by two Chinese nationals, a kid on a b
ike rescues me. Guess what, this kid is my son. Over the next five years, I discover Sam has the same attraction for trouble that I do. Not just with his work, but simply inheriting statues or going to poly sci class gets him into trouble. What was an annoyance before suddenly scares the hell out of me when it's my kid." Mac sighed, then glanced over his shoulder. "Now I find out I might have another son, who shows the very same attraction for trouble as Sam and I. It has got to be in the genes."
Jim shrugged. "Sounds like as good an explanation as any." He paused a moment, collecting his thoughts. "Have you decided what you are going to do?"
Mac sighed. "I don't know. I hate to tell Blair something I am not 100% positive is true, and I'd hate disrupting his life. He is well past the age of needing a father."
"I disagree," Jim softly stated. As Mac turned to him, he continued, "They traveled so much, and Naomi went through boyfriends so fast, I don't think Blair ever really had a stable male figure in his life. Not that Naomi didn't do a good job, but there is a core of uncertainty in Blair that I don't think would be there if he had had a father. He never even had a story to cling to. All Naomi told him was that there was a list of candidates." Mac shifted his feet uncomfortably. Jim asked, "What did happen?"
"We were young, and stupid, and the sixties were a very weird time." Jim continued to stare at him, puzzled. "It was school break. Jack and I decided we needed a road trip. Or I should say Jack wanted a road trip, and talked me into it because I was the only one who could keep his junker running. We took off and ended up along the Gulf Coast. The first night there, I met this girl with beautiful long red hair. We both fell hard and were inseparable. I thought I'd found my soul mate. The first two days were paradise."
"What happened on the third?"
"Timothy Leary and Viet Nam," Mac said darkly. "I met Naomi's fellow Leary followers that morning. It didn't take long for me to realize this guy was out to lunch. Naomi, however, thought he was the greatest and was insulted that I didn't share her opinion. She also discovered that when it came to certain activities, I was about as square as they came. I left when the pot started making its rounds." Mac ran a hand through his hair, still remembering how out of place he had felt. "That evening, Naomi came to me with the wild idea that I should drop out of school and join her in protesting the war. I tried to explain that while I was against the war, I couldn't drop out of school. It was too important to me. Plus if I did, I'd get drafted. Naomi then declared that she would run away to Canada with me." Mac sighed. "I tried to explain that while I hated guns, hated war, hated the whole thing, I couldn't just run away. Many of my friends were going or were already there, and I felt like I'd be letting them down if I left. Plus, they would only send someone else and I'd always wonder if that poor guy got killed in my place."
Remembering what Blair had said about his mother's protesting days, Jim quietly commented, "Naomi didn't understand, did she?"
"Nope. I was just giving in, selling out, choosing to be a baby killer. I left with Jack the next morning, feeling like I'd been ripped in two."
"That was the last time you saw her?"
"No," Mac stated bitterly. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "A few years later, I was on base catching my flight to Viet Nam. I was thinking about my mother, about my last letter from Kate in Brazil, anything except where I was going. The next thing I knew, war protesters had gotten past the guards. They were storming us, throwing water balloons and yelling obscenities. Then this woman spits in my face and screams 'baby-killer'. I look down, and there was Naomi." Jim winced in sympathy. "Not exactly the best send-off I ever had."
"I imagine not," Jim replied. He sometimes forgot how lucky he was not to have served during that tumultuous period.
Mac sighed again. "That is why it is going to be so hard."
"What is going to be hard?"
"Confronting Naomi. I can't just declare to Blair that I think I am his father without asking Naomi if it is possible."
Jim paused a moment, thinking. "Okay, I'll give you six weeks."
"What?"
"I'll give you six weeks to find Naomi and to do whatever else you need to do to feel comfortable with the fact you are Blair's father. Then you will tell Blair. He should be well enough to hear it by then. Otherwise, I will tell him."
Mac studied the sentinel. "Why?"
"Because he needs to know and he needs you in his life. Sure, he is 28 years old, but he still needs someone to talk to. A someone who understands the academic world, yet still can relate to the world outside the ivory tower. A someone who knows that using his mind can be just as important as using force in a tight situation. A someone who knows what it is like to hate guns, yet have to deal with bullets flying around him. Naomi never taught him that and I can't always reach him. He needs you."
Mac stared into space. He had never thought of it that way. Yet thinking over the various discussions he and Blair had had, he realized Ellison was right. He turned to Jim, the decision made. "Okay, in six weeks, I will tell Blair. No matter what."
The End
Author's note, 1/9/98: No natural disasters while writing this time (unless you want to count having two loaded 9 gig drives at work die on me), and yes, there will be a sequel. Just don't expect it to go smoothly during Jim's designated six weeks - after all, we are talking about the MacGyvers here. Naomi will also have a chance to tell her side of the story. With luck and the absence of disasters, 'Heirs to a Nightmare' should be done sometime in March 1998.
PS. The hair will grow back.
