This is just a little Jack/MacGyver oneshot that I thought I'd through in the mix. Hope ya like it!
Jack O'Neill was dog-tired and in pain. His whole torso hurt, and his head was doing a good job of imitating a jackhammer attack. He'd been traveling for days, trying to get where he was going with out anyone being able to trace him. It was a painstakingly hard task, made even more so because he was injured. Currently he was sitting on a bench in the second to last bus station he had to see before he got to where he was going.
O'Neill reached up carefully with his good right arm to adjust his cap. He had the band extra loose because of his concussion and the gash that from the hit to the head that had caused it in the first place. The last mission he'd been on had been a painful one. After getting shanghaied by the natives in the middle of the treaty signing process, they were thrown in a cell, left there for two days with out food or water, roughed up a bit, then let go. To his knowledge, Daniel was still going over his notes on the mission to try and figure the whole thing out.
Jack could say with his whole entire being that he was not looking forward top the last leg of the trip. It was bad enough he was using an old and not very well renowned bus service, but he was injured and possibly followed by people that he didn't want following him. Come to think of it, he really didn't want anyone to follow him.
The sound of the bus pulling into the station shook O'Neill out of his half-awake musings. He was sure he made a great sight as he staggering to his feet and fighting with his backpack. Giving up on getting the annoying thing onto his shoulders he just gripped the right strap and carried it. The bus doors opened and he got in the line to get inside. He watched as about ten people filed out single file, one or two of them cursing the heat.
Finally the bus was empty and the line O'Neill was in began to move, he sighed with relief, grateful to be out of the heat himself. In front of him there was a young couple with a little boy of about eight, two black girls, and an Asian man with a mighty ducks hokey jersey that had the sleeves cut off. Behind him was an elderly woman and her grandson, and a young woman of about thirty with a Seeing Eye dog in training.
O'Neill blinked back the multicolored stars that marred his vision and stepped up to get into the bus. He reached out and grabbed the side of the door when the world swung around violently. He held his eyes shut tightly, fighting the urge to turn and spew the meager contents of his stomach up on the pavement. He was tired, hurt and already felt like crap, he didn't want to make it worse by puking up his lunch.
"Hey, dude, you okay?" Jack looked up to see a heavy set Latino male, with a red truck driver cap, blue jean shorts and a gray shirt with AC/DC on the front. The guy had a half annoyed, half concerned expression on his face. "Hey, man, you gonna get on this bus or not?"
"Yeah." O'Neill moved his other foot withy much difficultly and climbed the three short, but torturous, steps onto the bus. Spotting an open seat three from the front and to the left he stumbled over and haphazardly flung his backpack into the seat. He dropped his weary body into the thin padded open bucket seat that reminded him of his school bus days. There were twelve people on the bus including him, as two of the passengers hadn't gotten off the bus when it'd arrived at the station.
He took in the deep breath, thanking God that he had gotten on the bus without making a fool of himself. He felt bad enough without everyone staring and laughing at him. Come to think of it, he felt he could just pass out right there on the extremely uncomfortable bus seat. O'Neill suppressed a snort and shook his head, instantly regretting the action as it cause his vision to swim along with his stomach.
"Hey, mister!" the little boy called from across the isle. "Mister! Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." Jack managed a weak smile that he was sure looked more like a grimace. He saw the little boy's face brighten a little. His parents sent the boy a look, which the boy promptly ignored. "So," Jack continued, "what's your name little man?"
"Mike." The boy answered with a proud grin. He lifted his arm and pointed at the bus driver. "That's Enrique. He always drives this bus."
"You ride this bus a lot?" Jack asked as the vehicle in question started moving. He suppressed a wince when the jerk of the bus starting caused his ribs to bounce painfully against the back of the seat.
"Every day." Mike answered. "It takes us home."
Jack managed a better smile this time. He felt his eye lids begin to slip closed and pried them back open. He couldn't sleep until he was sure he wasn't being tailed. Glancing carefully around the bus, he couldn't spot any familiar faces. Breathing a sigh of semi relief he looked up at the driver. He was completely oblivious to what was happening around him. He had on headphones, and there was an MP3 Player strapped to his belt.
Jack repressed a growl of agitation. How was the guy supposed to pay attention to what was happen on the bus, much less what was going on, on the road outside of the bus. It seemed to be one more reason he had to stay awake, though he already felt his body beginning to betray him. He could feel his eyes starting to slowly close again, and fought the feeling with what little strength he had left in him at the moment.
O'Neill glanced out his window and looked up at the stars in an effort to distract his mind. They were still in the city, but wouldn't be for too long. It was going to be just desert until they reached somewhere in the middle of California in about two and a half hours. A few minutes later the city was behind them and all there was, was desert. The landscape looked plain and it was getting harder for the tired General to stay awake.
He hated the fact that he couldn't watch the people on the bus if he fell asleep, they could take what little he had on him right out from under his nose and he wouldn't even know it, that's how goddamned tired he felt! The long few days of his trip hadn't helped his health much. He knew for a fact that when he got back, the Doc would kill him if he didn't beat her to it.
Blinking his eyes to clear them he looked around one last time, then felt his eyes shut. He was asleep before he could register he'd slipped down to lie on his upturned backpack.
O'Neill suddenly jolted awake just as the bus his a rather large bump in the road. Startled he looked quickly around and realized that he'd fallen asleep. Glancing at his watch he guessed he'd been out for about two hours. Well he had only two and a half more to go, lucky him. He glanced to his left and noticed that Mike and his family had gotten off somewhere down the road, so had the elderly woman and her grandson, or so he assumed it was her grandson. The Seeing Eye dog and his trainer were gone too. That left him with the two black girls; they were talking quietly in the back, the Asian man with the sleeveless hockey jersey, and the cranky bus driver.
Jack looked up front at the Enrique and saw him craning his neck to look at him in the rear view mirror. He knew it was there for that express purpose, or that's what it was for when he was in school. He noticed that the headphones were gone, most likely stuffed into one of the man's pockets.
"Hey, dude, you still with us?" Enrique settled back into his seat to keep his eyes on the road, even though at 2234 hours at night there weren't many people driving.
"Sure!" Jack called from his seat, it was a lie and he knew it, he just hoped Enrique didn't. Covering a wince he shifted and settled upright in his seat.
"I think you passed out." Enrique said from the front of the bus, Jack could hear the slight smile in his voice.
"Probably." O'Neill muttered darkly. He went over his possessions making sure nothing was missing. His wallet was still in his cargo pocket, along with his car keys and pain meds. As he shifted in his seat he was aware of a sharp stabbing pain coming from his ribs. Wincing he wrapped his good arm around his mid section in the hopes of making the pain go away. His dislocated left shoulder wasn't helping matters much either.
Carefully, he maneuvered himself so he could lie back down against his backpack. After he settled the pain ebbed off to a dull ache and he was able to breath a little deeper. He was thankful that his shoulder wasn't giving him too much trouble, however the throbbing in his side had re-ignited the throbbing in his head. Holding back a groan he tired to recapture the restful sleep that he'd had before the bus hit a bump in the road.
Just as he was about to drift off the bus hit another bump, and a shooting pain flew through his shoulder. Damn! If that didn't hurt! Jack thought, his mind swirling with the sensation of his ribs trying to snap in half. He moaned aloud as the bus yet another bump. He glanced out of the window and saw a truck by the side of the road with trees hanging out of the back. They must have run over some stray branches or something.
Hoping against hope that they were past all of the tree branches O'Neill settled back into his seat and prayed for sleep to come. The last thing he was aware of as he drifted off was a road sign that said: LA 184 mi.
The next thing he knew, someone was shaking him awake. Confused and disoriented he swung out with his fist, but found his hand held in a vice-like grip. Blinking blearily, he recognized Enrique, the bus driver. He looked into the man's eyes and the bus driver let go of his fist. Jack pushed himself more upright so he could look out of the window. It looked like they were in a parking lot.
"Where are we?" He demanded icily, his shoulder, ribs and head throbbing in unison. He so did not need this right now!
"Relax, man," Enrique held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, "we're in the bus parking lot. You were asleep, and you don't look so good. There is no way that you'll make it anywhere in LA like that without getting mugged. So, I figured I'd drive you wherever you needed to go in my truck."
O'Neill eyed the man suspiciously. His offer sounded great, he really wasn't looking forward to trying to find a car at 0100hrs in the morning. "Okay." The General relented. Grabbing his backpack, he eased himself off the seat to stand in the isle. He felt his feet give way, then hands under his arms to help hold him self up. He regained his footing, forcing his tired and cramped legs to work. "I'm okay, you can let go."
Brushing off the food crumbs from his backpack, he followed Enrique out of the bus and to the little red Mazda truck. His olive green pants had crumbs of popcorn on them as well and he rolled his eyes. Some people just couldn't pick up after themselves. The reached the truck parked about five spaces away rather quickly, and for O'Neill it wasn't a moment too soon. His head hurt like a bitch and ribs were protesting to all of the walking and carrying a backpack full of clothes.
"You can throw you bag in the back." Enrique said as he opened the passenger door, reaching inside to push the automatic lock to open the other door. He walked around to the other side of the truck and went about getting inside.
O'Neill drew in a breath and flung his backpack up and into the truck bed. His ribs hurt even more and he wished he hadn't done that. Pushing the pain into the back of his mind he carefully climbed into the passenger seat of the truck. He reached out and shut the door, then collapsed back into the seat, his eyes clenched shut against the throbbing pain running through his body.
"Hey, man." Enrique laid a cautious hand on his shoulder. "You gonna make it to wherever it you're going, or do I need to take you to a hospital?"
"No, I'm fine." Jack opened his eyes and looked straight a head. "I need you to take me to the Ocean Side Marina."
"Sure thing buddy, it's not off my route home either." Enrique smiled and started the truck. "Funny coincidence, huh?"
"Yeah, sure, you betcha." O'Neill closed his eyes and leaned his head against the window, falling asleep a minute later.
The motion of the truck stopped, jerking Jack awake. He looked around and noticed that he was in the Marina. He looked over at the man in the driver's seat. Enrique was looking at him as well, and O'Neill nodded his thanks.
"No trouble." O'Neill heard Enrique say as he opened the door and climbed out of the truck. It was much easier than trying to get into the damn thing. He reached over the truck bed frame and grabbed his backpack. He looked briefly at Enrique before setting out to find the houseboat he was looking for. He heard the truck pull away and out of the Marina and sighed. Jack fished the little mag-light flashlight he carried with him everywhere out of his pocket and turned it on, hoping for something to light the dark Marina.
There weren't very many lights in the Marina as he walked. He followed a familiar path through the different kinds of boats, looking for a specific houseboat. The man he was going to see had only recently moved back into a houseboat, and this was O'Neill's third visit to the place. After a few minutes of walking he came to the little floating residence. The small structure was made of wood and looked to be painted a deep navy in the dark light, though he couldn't be sure.
Letting out a sigh of relief, Jack walked up to the front door and banged hard on the wooden part of the French door. "Mac!" he called out, his voice sounding raspy. "MacGyver!" he banged on the door again. "Open the damn door!"
Jack put his right hand to the glass and looked inside, he couldn't see anyone. "Oh f'cryin' out loud!" he muttered. He hit the door again. "MacGyver! Open. The. Door!"
Suddenly the lights flashed on, causing Jack to put his hand over his eyes. The door was flung open and his twin was standing there, looking disgruntled in his sweat pants and faded hockey jersey. "For cryin' out loud, Jack!" Mac exclaimed. "It's one am in the morning!"
"So?" Jack answered with a shrug. MacGyver sent him a disapproving look, then noticed his twin brother's appearance.
"Good god, Jack!" Mac grabbed a hold of O'Neill's good shoulder and pulled him into the house, shutting the door behind him. "What happened to you?"
"Long story." Jack answered. Mac pulled him into a quick, but strong hug then let go. "But, don't worry, I'm fine."
"No you're not! You've got a three inch gash on your head, a newly relocated shoulder, and severely bruised ribs!"
"Just when I thought I had forgotten!" O'Neill muttered sarcastically. Mac sent him another disapproving glance and led him into the little living room. He made his brother sit down on the couch, then fell down bonelessly next to him.
"So, I know you aren't okay if you came to see me." Mac said with a wry look on his face. "What brought you here?"
"I almost lost a teammate," Jack answered softly, "and a dear friend."
"I thought you ran that base nowadays?" MacGyver asked with a confused expression. "What were you doing in the field, General?"
Jack shot him an annoyed look. "I was signing a treaty. Then my team and I got shanghaied by the natives." Mac made an 'Oh' look in understanding. "Yeah, 'oh'."
"Well, you are perfectly welcome to crash on my couch!" MacGyver announced cheerfully. He pushed up and off of the couch. "I'm going to bed."
O'Neill let out a chuckle. "Yeah, you do that, Mac." Jack ducked as a rather thick blanket was thrown down the stairs at him. "Hey!"
"Goodnight, Jack!" Mac called from his bedroom.
"Night!" Jack called back with a smile. He carefully pulled off his jacket and put it on the coffee table. Kicking off his shoes he swung his legs up and onto the couch. After the blanket was arranged to his liking his leaned back on the pillow that Mac always kept there incase he fell asleep watching TV, and drifted off. He didn't hear the footsteps on the stairs as Mac carefully crept down them.
MacGyver looked over O'Neill's sleeping form from the middle of the stair well. He smiled, knowing everything was okay and went back to his bedroom. They could talk in the morning.
Well, that was it folks! Those of you waiting on my stories, Ancient Legacy and What Dreams May Come, might be doing so for a while, sorry guys. I would post chapter five of AL but fanfic net won't load the chapter, so until I figure out what the hell is wrong with it, it'll be stuck. I have to piece together chapter nineteen of WDMC so that may be a while yet, too. Again, I'm really sorry guys.