This story is co-written by myself and my talented collaborator of the Second Chances AU series, deepandlovelydark. We hope you enjoy!
Any questions about the Domestic Adventures AU, please see my profile page.
Dedicated to RDA with love and admiration from two fans, one old and one fairly new.
There's limits on the human body- the kind that stop people from climbing mountains or running marathons, the kind that can be broken through- and there's the real limits, the kind that can't be broken without impairment or injury or just sliding over in an ungainly, dead-to-the-world-heap.
Well, this isn't his first rodeo; and MacGyver just about has it down to a science, how far he can push himself. Right now he's uncomfortably close to bumping over the edge. But the mission's almost over, too. Just a little further, a little harder, to replace these control rods back into position before anything in this power plant can go critical. Of course, he's wearing a thick radiation suit for protection, but that just makes him heavier.
C'mon, c'mon. Think of Los Angeles going up in a mushroom cloud. Or think of Becky, at least.
And abruptly- maybe because he's so tired that he's just straight-up hallucinating, now- he can see his niece standing in front of him. Clear as day and twice as solid, holding her hand out to him. MacGyver grabs it with his free hand, lets her virtually drag him down the corridor. Her mere presence energises him amazingly. Gives him the presence of mind to finish the job.
"I didn't really do it," he says afterwards, when the grateful technicians and scientists are congratulating him on another crisis averted. "I mean…"
"Of course you did," Nikki tells him, guiding him out of the crowd.
Her steady voice reassures him, pulls him back to the everyday. She's right. That dream of Becky was just that, a dream. Nothing real.
Though it'll amuse her to hear the story, when he gets home. Later. After a very, very long nap.
"Pete'll drive you home. And I'd say I'll see you tomorrow, but you know, I hope I don't? Get some rest."
She's still smiling, as they drive away. Smiling as she turns to deal with the explanations and apologies and people-handlers, which he's more than glad to be rid of for today.
Bless you, Nikki. Glad we got each other's backs.
"Nicely done," Pete says sincerely, as he buckles his seat belt. "I told everyone they could count on you. Now..."
"Thanks," MacGyver says, pulling on his sunglasses. Jack Dalton likes to kid him about how he could probably do Phoenix debriefs in his sleep, the number of them he and Pete have done over the years. Maybe now's a good time to find out…
which is how he ends up murmuring agreement to take on yet another pet project for the Phoenix Board. Disentangling himself from that turns out to require a lot more shouting than he would normally consider either polite or reasonable.
But sheesh, a small and thoroughly exhausted part of him thinks; if I'm snapping at Pete like this, I'm not in any shape to go out wrangling. Or anything else.
Becky yawns, glances at the clock. Four o'clock in the afternoon- that's an odd time for her to be napping.
Come to think of it, when's the last time she even had a nap? Not since early childhood, probably. Back then, her mom would put a stack of lullabies on the record player, or she'd be coaxed to sleep listening to her uncle telling soothing bedtime stories...
Right. Where is her favourite uncle, anyway-
she can't help a slight frown when she hears the key in the lock. Both at the coincidence and the raised voices.
"No is a complete sentence, Pete! Geez," MacGyver mutters, slamming the door shut. "What does he think I am, huh?"
"Hey," Becky says quickly, guiding her uncle to the sofa- he's looking around with bleary-eyed confusion. "Do you need anything?"
"About twenty hours of sleep."
"I'll shut the TV off, if you want."
"Nah, leave it on," MacGyver says, glancing fondly at the Western cowboys frolicking across the screen. "Don't worry about waking me up, I figure I could sleep through an earthquake at this point. Any important messages or anything?"
She thinks of Penny's singing (safely recorded on the answering machine for posterity), and Jack's latest plea for help (definite maybe, with a big question mark), and the broken faucet in the kitchen (there's a very annoying drip she can't figure out how to fix). "Nothing that can't wait twenty hours. Or forty."
"Great."
He looks awfully sweet when he falls asleep. So peaceful.
And after all: what's going to happen to him here?
Wouldn't hurt to get a bit of shut-eye herself, in fact, the way's she's yawning.