Heirs to a Nightmare

by Cindy Combs

"Sounds good." Blair continued to sit.

  "Blair?"

  "About Mac...I just don't know what to think anymore."

  Jim knelt in front of his partner, staring into his eyes. "Mac is the same cool guy you knew a month ago, Chief. Just remember that, and worry about all the rest of it once you get some sleep."

  "Okay." Blair accepted Jim's hand and allowed himself to be pulled onto his feet. Then he continued to hold the hand, silently turning it over. Dried blood still covered Jim's palm around the angry-looking puncture wounds. Blair looked up into his sentinel's eyes. "This is how you stayed awake in the cabin," he whispered. Jim reluctantly nodded. Blair gratefully squeezed the hand, deeply moved by this sign of his sentinel's dedication. "Guess Sam and I aren't the only ones who need to see the docs."

  Saturday late afternoon, medical clinic in Ouray, CO

  The first thing I was aware of was that I was cold. Really cold. It wasn't until I tried to move my head that I discovered I had a monster headache to go along with being cold. I couldn't help the moan that escaped. "Easy there, buddy." A hand patted my shoulder through thick blankets. It took a few moments to recognize the voice.

  "Jack?"

  Dalton grinned as the brown eyes blinked at him. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Mac."

  "Why is it so cold? And why does my head hurt?"

  "You've had hypothermia, buddy, and a mild concussion. Plus, you have a pretty nasty gash just above your knee. Luckily it isn't too deep. Do you remember what happened?"

  Mac paused, trying to gather his thoughts. "Murdoc just got buried in a building and I was... Oh man, did the bomb go off?"

  "No," Jack assured him easily. "Joel Taggart disarmed it while we dug you out of the trap Murdoc had laid for you."

  "How's Sam and Blair? Are they all right?"

  "They're fine. Blair still has one mean bark, but they doped him up good and said he'll be okay. He zonked out in one of the beds down the hall once the docs said you'd live. Sam was in here with you for awhile. Do you remember?"

  Mac was about to shake his head, then decided against it. "No. Wait. There was something wrong with his arm?"

  "He broke it. Clean break, though. The docs put it in a cast. He's now catching some Z's in a bed next to Blair's."

  "I, I need to talk to Blair."

  "About him being your son? Relax, he already knows."

  MacGyver stared at him in dismay. "How?"

  Jack's eye started to blink. "He's a smart kid, just like his pop. He figured it out."

  "Jaaack...."

  His friend sighed. "Murdoc told him."

  Damn. Mac could feel his headache growing. "Is he okay?"

  Jack shrugged. "I think too much has happened at once for him. He and Sam have gotten really close though." Jack couldn't prevent the wicked gleam in his eye. "He even faced down Naomi when she wanted him to leave Sam and go with her."

  Damn. "Murdoc?"

  Jack paused, hating to even think about it, let alone having to tell his friend. "They are going through the rubble and ash of that building, but haven't found a body yet."

  "Damn," Mac swore out loud, then winced at the pain that shot through his head. "He may still go after the kids."

  Jack chuckled. "Not if he's smart. The way Blair's guard dog is pacing the halls, he'd probably tear Murdoc's throat out on sight."

  Mac squinted up at his friend. "Guard dog? You mean Ellison?"

  "Yep. Trust me, he's like a protective Rottweiler just waiting to tear into anyone who touches his wards. I doubt even Murdoc would want to go near him."

  Mac's eyes drifted shut as he smiled at the image.

  As Blair gradually came into awareness from his exhausted sleep, he relaxed into the soft pillow and warm covers. It was pure heaven after two days out in the cold and sleeping on the ground. Then he felt a hand brush back his hair. For a moment, Blair enjoyed the attention, slowly realizing it was Naomi. Then he remembered his earlier loss of temper. Might as well finish waking up now and apologize.

  "Hi Honey," Naomi softly cooed as her son's blue eyes blinked open. "How are you feeling?"

  "Groggy and sore," Blair admitted, "but I'll live. ~cough~"

  Naomi frowned. "I still don't like the sound of that."

  "Honest, Mom, it sounds worse than it is." Blair pulled himself into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes. "Why are ~cough~ you whispering?"

  "Sam is sleeping in the other bed. I didn't figure you'd want to wake him." Naomi picked up a cup from the nearby stand and poured a glass of water for him.

  Blair glanced over to his brother. Sam's back was to them, nestled into his own set of covers. "No, ~cough~ he needs the rest about as bad as I did." Blair then took a deep breath. "Mom, about earlier..."

  "That's all right, Honey. I know you were tired and worried about your friend."

  Friend. So, Naomi still doesn't want to admit Sam's my brother. "Mom, why didn't you ever tell me about MacGyver?"

  Naomi sighed. "Lots of reasons. The first being I honestly thought he died over in Viet Nam."

  Blair thought for a moment, drawing from his memory as he drank the water. "Is that who you left a flower for at the Viet Nam Memorial?" He could remember that rainy day in DC. He had stood under a tree, watching from a distance as his mother searched for a name on the black stone wall. Wondering who she was looking for.

  "At least I thought I did." Naomi shook her head. "I just never thought there would be more than one A. MacGyver over there."

  Blair thought for a moment, comparing his mother, the diehard war protester, with Mac, the laid-back war veteran. "How did you two meet?"

  Naomi gave him a sad smile, then quietly told him of meeting MacGyver, falling in love, then quickly falling out. "When Mac didn't like Tim and disagreed with his views, I was crushed. Here was my hero, the man I would follow to the ends of the earth, while the man I loved

  thought he was crazy." Blair smiled. He knew the logical MacGyver well enough to know he and Leary would clash. "Then, he wouldn't join in smoking pot with the rest of my friends and just left. I was mortified. I mean, who was this square? I was just beginning to realize that Mac was more into the establishment's views than going against them."

  Blair quietly looked at his mother. "Mom, I've never done drugs either." With the exception of the Golden Incident, and that wasn't by choice.

  "I know, Honey. But those were different times. I thought back then that if you didn't do drugs, you either didn't know what you were missing or were being a goodie two-shoes." Naomi looked down, then continued her story. "The final straw was the fight over Viet Nam. I wanted Mac to stay with me, fighting the war side by side. I expected him to drop out of school, dodge the draft, and I even promised I'd flee to Canada with him. The war protests were the center of my life. I felt anyone who wasn't protesting the war was either a sheep or worse. I couldn't understand why Mac insisted that staying in school was important to him. At least, not until years later when I could see how important it was to you." Naomi glanced up to give her son another sad smile. "So I accused him of being a Momma's boy, of wanting to go over there and kill babies. Mac started yelling at me about how he didn't want to go but felt it was his responsibility. He kept saying that I was being blind and closed-minded. I couldn't believe he had the nerve to call me, of all people, closed-minded. That upset me, so I'm afraid I said some pretty nasty things back to him. He and Jack left the next morning. I felt so abandoned, but I had lots of friends to keep me company."

  They sat silently for a few moments. "So Mac is my father," Blair finally whispered.

  "I don't know that, honey. Some of my old friends are candidates, too. In fact, I never wanted Mac to be your father. He was a soldier, and a dead one at that. Or so I thought. I didn't want that kind of influence for you. Plus, I was afraid that between being a single mother and my protesting activities, Mac's parents would sue for custody and win. You were too precious to me, baby. I couldn't take that chance."

  Blair just
shook his head. "Mom, just because you don't want Mac to be my dad doesn't mean he's not."

  "Well, I still don't think he's a good influence. He has hitmen after him. Jim says he works with bombs. He's probably even encouraged you with this police observer idea."

  "No, Mom," Blair sighed. "The police observer deal was a given long before I ever met Mac. Nor is it his fault that a hitman doesn't like him. That kind of thing just happens."

  "Like you and the militia?" Naomi asked sternly.

  Blair's eyes widened, then he took a calming breath. "Yeah, like me and the militia. I mean, you don't expect me to just stand back and let creeps like that take control, do you? You wouldn't let even the government dictate to you when you were my age. Why should I stand by while a group terrorizes innocent people and judges them due to skin color or religion?"

  "I want you to be safe. That's why I wish you'd stay away from men like Jim and Mac."

  "Mom, the world is a dangerous place. I could step into an elevator and be killed by a bomb. I could be bit by a poisonous spider. I could be in a car accident. If I die because of helping Jim, at least my life would have been spent trying to make a difference."

  Naomi sighed, recognizing a losing battle, at least for the moment. "None of this makes Mac your father."

  "No, it doesn't. Nor does it mean he's not my father, either. If it would make you feel better, we can see about tests."

  "Oh honey, I worry because you seem so attached to the idea that Sam is your brother. I don't want you to be disappointed."

  "Mom," Blair sighed. "After this weekend, Sam is my brother, whether by blood or by deep friendship like Jim. However, I really suspect it's by blood."

  Naomi sadly shook her head. "I can't talk you out of this, can I?"

  "No." The finality vibrated through Blair's voice.

  "All right." Naomi stood up and reached over to pick up her purse and coat. "Then I'll just go back to the motel and leave you with your new brother."

  It hurt to hear the sadness and resignation in her voice. "Mom..."

  "No, Honey. You need to do this and I'd just be in the way. I'll call you in a week once you're back in Cascade."

  Blair watched her go, hating to hurt her. Then he glanced over to Sam's slumbering form. She was right. He DID have to do this.

  A blonde woman stuck her head into the room, quickly glancing to the sleeping man on the one bed and the wide-awake one in the other. "Hi, can I come in for a second?" she whispered.

  "Sure," Blair managed a smile. The deputy walked in, carrying a pack and black case. "These were found in Evermore. Are they yours?"

  Blair pulled his gaze from the attractive woman and looked at what she carried. "I think the pack might be Mac's, but that is definitely Sam's camera case."

  "Okay, then. I'll leave them here for them."

  Blair took a quick peak at the name tag. "Deputy Kelsey? Are you the one who gave up your lunch for us?"

  Deputy Kelsey blushed. "Well, yes. I've been planning to diet, so figured it was a good time to start."

  Blair gave her his most charming smile. "I don't think you need to diet, but we really appreciated the soup. Thank you."

  The young deputy's blush deepened. "You're welcome." She quickly slipped out the door.

  Blair watched her go, wondering how he could get her phone number. Then he turned to look at Sam's case. Man, I hope his camera's still okay. Blair leaned over and grabbed the strap. Plucking it up and pulling it into his lap, he quickly opened it to check. On top were two carefully folded packets of paper. One was addressed to Sam. The other, much thicker one, had Blair's name scrawled across the top.

  Blair picked up the one with his name, holding it for a moment. Could it be a message from Murdoc? Jim said he'd been leaving them for Mac. Steeling himself against the worse, Blair opened the letter.

  My dear son Blair,

  For several weeks, I have been debating on what to say to you. On how to tell you I believe you are my son. But now, I fear I will not have the opportunity. So this letter is to tell you all the things I want to say, but may not have the chance...

  Oh hell, this is a letter from Mac in case he didn't survive Murdoc. Blair stared straight ahead, tensing as he thought just how close Mac had been to not surviving. But he did survive. He's safe, just down the hall. Blair glanced down, running his finger along the edge of the papers. Now what should he do? One part of him said that he shouldn't read it, since Mac meant it in case of his death. Yet another part, the largest part, wanted to read it. Wanted to know what Mac had wrote. Wanted to know more about this man who was his father. Taking a deep breath, Blair leaned over to his pack and started hunting for his glasses.

  Jim sighed. "So they haven't found a body?"

  "No," Simon admitted. "But much of it burned before they could put it out. It's possible that he either died in the explosion or in the fire."

  "Except that we are talking about Murdoc, who has more lives than a cat." Pete looked bleak, remembering all the other times Murdoc was supposed to be dead.

  "So the real question is, are Blair, Sam, and Mac safe?" Jim asked around his clenched jaw.

  Pete shrugged his shoulders. "I'd say from experience that they are for now. In the future is anyone's guess."

  "Great!" Jim growled in frustration. He shook his head. "I just hate to have that bastard hanging over their heads."

  Joel looked at Jim. "So, what do we do now?"

  "Well, I'm hoping to take the week off," Jim replied, glancing at Simon. At Simon's nod of consent, Jim continued, "I'm still going to keep an eye on them. If nothing else, it will make ME feel better."

  Simon chuckled. "Considering one is sick, the second has a broken arm, and the third has a bum leg, someone should look after them. If only to keep them out of more trouble."

  Pete joined in, "With three MacGyvers under the same roof, you may have your hands full Det. Ellison."

  "I've had plenty of practice with Sandburg. I think I can handle them."

  "Then Jack can fly the rest of us back to Cascade tomorrow," Simon suggested.

  After a few more details were hammered out, Jim walked down to Blair and Sam's room. Pausing in the doorway, Jim was surprised to see his friend not only awake, but with tears streaming down his face. After a quick glance at the sleeping Sam, Jim quickly, yet quietly, walked over to Blair's bed. "Chief?" he whispered, laying a hand lightly on his shoulder. "Are you okay? Did you have another fight with Naomi?"

  Blair pulled up his glasses so he could wipe the tears away with his hand. "No. Well, yes, Naomi and I did have a disagreement, but I'm okay."

  Jim noticed the paper in his hand. "Chief, what's this?" Focusing his sight, Jim read the first few lines. He glanced back up to his friend. "Blair?"

  "Mac wrote this for me, in case... well, I decided to read it anyway." Blair paused, giving the paper a reverent stroke of his thumb. "God, Jim, I never realized Mac felt this way about me. I never thought anyone would."

  "Mac has a very compassionate heart, just like you. And he's seen enough in life to know what's important. I suspect you and Sam are at the top of his list."

  "But Jim, Mac hasn't known me for even a year yet."

  "True, but I don't think that matters. In fact, would you like to know what he told Kincaid while they were fighting?"

  "Fighting?" Blair's brow wrinkled as he tried to place it. "You mean, when he hurt his hand?"

  "Yep. Kincaid wanted to know why Mac betrayed him and his generous offer. Mac told him because he had abducted you. Kincaid then asked why he'd care about a skinny nobody. Mac told him 'Because that brave, intelligent young man is my son.' Then he broke Kincaid's nose."

  "Really?" Blair's eyes lit up, picturing the scene. Mac really does think I'm brave and intelligent?

  "Really." Jim glanced over to Sam.

  A soft moan rose as Sam became aware of all his aches and pains. Then Sam took a deep breath and rolled over to face Jim and Blair. "Hi," he yawned. "What's up?"

/>   Jim took a quick glance at Blair, then caught them up. Blair and Sam looked at each other uneasily, neither liking the idea that Murdoc's death was unconfirmed.

  So this is what Dad has had to live with. Sam quickly shoved the thought aside. "So Jack and Pete are going to stay with Dad?" he asked.

  "Yeah. The doctors want to keep him overnight. Jack says he'll drive Mac up to the cabin once the hospital releases him tomorrow morning. Then he'll fly the rest of the group back to Cascade."

  "You're staying with us at the cabin?" Blair asked.

  "Considering the trouble you two get into when I'm not around, you better believe it."

  Both young men stared at him in disbelief. "Seems like we find it with you as well," Blair observed.

  "Murdoc may have fooled me once. He's not doing it again," Jim vowed. Then his face softened. "Why don't you two get cleaned up and we'll go out to eat. My treat."

  "Your treat? All right!" Blair cheered.

  "I don't care who pays. I'm starving," Sam declared.

  Sunday morning, Harry Jackson's cabin, near Ouray, CO

  Blair quietly slipped out of the bedroom, not wanting to wake Sam. Suddenly, he stopped by a bookcase, his attention focused on one of the photos on a shelf. It showed MacGyver standing in front of the cabin, his arm draped around a white-haired, gruff-looking old man. The same man Blair thought he had seen in the ghost town. Oh God, Sam said this cabin had been owned by our great-grandfather, Harry. The one who raised Mac. The one Sam says he quotes. Oh God, could it be....? A cold shiver shot through Blair's body. Then he vigorously shook his head. Man, do I need some coffee.

  Pulling on a sweatshirt as he walked toward the kitchen area, he checked the coffee pot on the stove. He turned towards the cupboard and pulled out a mug, trying to muffle a cough. It sounded bad, but the doctor assured him that the antibiotic and rest would soon take care of it. At least, it would if he didn't take anymore unexpected hikes. As he poured the coffee, he could detect the faint sound of chopping. That must be Jim. Otherwise, only the crackling of the fire broke the cabin's silence.

  Man, he still had so much to think about, so much to process. He walked over to the small living area in front of the fireplace and paused. On the couch, sound asleep with his leg propped up and bundled in blankets, was MacGyver.