AN: I don't own MacGyver. Duh. This story is mine, so, no touchy without credit
~ Rehabilitated Sith.
Constructive criticism is appreciated, and reviews loved.
Fibs versus Lies - 1
Jack and I have this unspoken agreement, or at least, it was unspoken until it needed to be spoken; that we would never lie to each other. I've skated close to that in the past, then there was that incident with the whole Nikki search but I digress. Sometimes, we have to bend the rules a little to save those we love; whether they appreciate it or not.
"Y'know, I am really getting tired of this guy and his bombs."
"Technically without his and the other sickos bombs, we wouldn't need EODs and I would be out of a job and we would have never met."
"Don't try that logic stuff with me, man. I don't need that kind of negativity in my life and it doesn't mean I have to like it. In fact, what number is this? 10?! 10. Who the hell needs to plant 10 frickin' bombs around the city? I mean seriously."
"As fascinating as your rant is, I need to focus, so if we could limit the chatter, that'd be great. Thanks."
"Yeah Jack, shut up so Mac doesn't blow us all up."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Riley."
"I'm just sayin'…"
With experienced hands, a thin plastic pen almost imperceptibly move wires so create a space to view the nodes and track the wires. The wires that are all exactly the same color. Thanks for that by the way. The blank face of the bomb is a comfort, but only temporarily. Hands still as connections are made in the brain of one Angus MacGyver.
Blue eyes dart around the room of the modern housing structure they are currently huddle in. Spying his needs, he quickly grabs the items and races back to the side of the innocent-looking bomb. Ripping open the back of the old cell phone, he pulls the pieces he needs and tosses the rest.
"OK, Riley, this has remote access, so I have to create a signal jammer in hopes they don't blow us up before I can disarm the bomb. I need you to go outside to the road and call Matty. Tell her the situation and get a team down here."
With a tacit nod, the dark haired young woman sprints for the door, backpack over her shoulder. Only pausing at the threshold, "be careful." Then she was gone.
Deft hands finished the little side project, and set it down a little ways off. Scrubbing a hand through his sun-bleached hair, Mac shifted his eyes to his partner who was watching with anxious eyes. Having already had a near-death experience with a bomb not too long ago, it was understandable that Jack was not a fan of these things, no matter his absolute faith in Mac. Thinking quickly, Mac turned to Jack who was already waiting his orders.
"Jack, I need the tire iron, duct tape and seat belt from the car."
"Not the seat belt, come on Mac, you know the car is rented under my name."
"Jack."
"Fine, fine. Next time though, we are renting it under your name and see how you like it. But I am still driving."
"Sure. Go. Now."
Grumbling, Jack got to his feet and sprinted for the same door Riley had exited.
"Remember, don't do anything stupid while I am gone. You have to wait for me."
"Don't I always?" Mac retorted innocently.
Jack opened his mouth to rebut that remark but his partners shooing motions had him hurrying to return. Ducking out the door, Jack leap down the few steps toward the driveway where their rental car was waiting. Clicking the fob, he popped the trunk, grabbed the iron, duck tape and tossed it on the ground. Sliding around to the passenger rear door, he threw it open and grabbed for the first seat belt his hands found. Unclipping the top, he pulled it out only to get caught on the bottom. Grunting at the sudden stop, he pulled. The car was not so helpful.
"Where's Mac's knife when you need it."
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
A concussive wave slammed into the former Delta, throwing his against the open car door and ricocheting to the loose gravel floor. Debris rained down all around him, clanging off of the rental and bouncing to the ground. Smoke wafted over his face, a shrill ringing in his ears, and heat blasted him.
'Mac. MAC!'
Scrambling to his feet, he had to throw a hand out to the side of the car to balance himself and quickly withdrew it with a hiss. The car was hot! Blinking, Jack scrubbed a hand across his eyes trying to clear his vision, unsuccessfully.
"M..a.c..MAC!"
His lungs objected to the yelling, causing him to bend over as large coughs racked his body. Undeterred, his shuffled forward, arms out to attempt to protect his face from the scorching heat of the fires now engulfing part of the house. The house was partially caved in.
"JACK! MAC! JACK!"
Dimly, Jack knew that Riley was screaming for them as she raced back down the driveway. He didn't answer, he thoughts were focused on getting insides, getting to Mac.
I wasn't there. He needed me and I wasn't there. The kid can't be dead. I won't lose another.
Spying a hose across the yard, Jack raced over, spun the nozzle and was gratified to find water poured out. Stripping off his outer shirt, he doused it under the water. Flipping it over his head, he raced for the door he had exited out of. Getting close, he could vaguely see that the doorframe was askew, not stable, but open enough he could shimmy through.
"JACK!"
He didn't hesitate. Tearing through the threshold, he jumped over debris to his left and scuttled to a stop. His mind could barely hand the devastation he saw. Beams were caved in, walls with large holes and a light swinging. It flickered on and off erratically. Jack could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Mac, come on where are you? Spinning to his right, he saw the area where Mac had been before he was directed to retrieve those items. Nothing. Intellectually Jack knew that there would be something left over if the kid had gotten caught in the blast. Something would be there but there wasn't anything. In fact, there was no significant sign of the blast in that area. Allowing his mind to taken in the shambles that was the house, Jack noted that most of the actual damage from the bomb seemed to be from upstairs.
What the—-?
Ignoring the scratching of his throat, Jack called out for his friend. He paused. Listening. All he could hear was the crackling of flames above him, and the groaning of those house as it threatens to collapse further.
Come on kid, where are you? I need a sign.
Deciding to follow the damage, he moved toward the stairs and looked up. It was impassable. The blast seemed to have been concentrated above there. Jack could feel the shirt drying out quickly. If he didn't' hurry, he wasn't going to last long. He tried to test the stairs. It gave under his foot, causing his foot to be stuck.
"Well that's just fantastic."
Struggling, Jack attempted to pull his foot out. The house stubbornly held onto it. Reaching down with both hands, Jack pulled and leaned back at the same time. grunting with the exertion, he tugged with every last ounce of strength he had. You can't have me too! The house released its hold. With only a second to process the sudden lack of a hold, Jack was sent sprawling backwards. His back hit the floor with a painful thud. At least I am free. The floor then reclaimed him. It gave beneath him, sending him down into the dark.
Riley watched in stunned disbelief as Jack ran into collapsing house. What do I do? She did what she does best. She pulled out her phone, gratified to see that she had reception, only to realize that was because the house had blown up WITH Mac inside. Pushing that though aside she hit the Keyes faster than ever.
"Matty, we need help. NOW!"
Jack's fall into darkness wasn't quite as long as he had expected; in fact, it was nothing like he had expected. He only fell about a foot before he bounced off something hard, again and again as well went down at an angle. Stairs. His mind connected the motion with bruising, having done this before. He rolled painfully down the last few steps and hit a wall. Groaning, he allowed himself a few moments to re-orient himself before he attempted the painful task of moving. Blearily, he could see that the fun trip he had just taken was down concrete steps, not just wood. He was however, grateful to see. Literally. Most of the smoke was still in the upper floors, so he wasn't completely blind, just mostly.
In fact, this area was relatively untouched by the blast, in loose terms. Surveying the area, he caught sight of a pile of rumble that did make it down.
That pile groaned.
Crawling towards the sound, Jack tried not to get his hopes up. He did anyways. That groan belonged to a person. Sticking out of the bottom was a shoe. Jack knew that shoe.
"Mac?"
The pile shuddered in response.
Encouraged, Jack approached carefully-ok not that carefully as he didn't see any of the smoldering embers and burned his hands in his hurry.
"Mac, if you can hear me. I got you, bud."
"Ja…k…?"
Jack was never so relieved to his name as he was at that moment. The relief was almost palpable. Until he realized that his boy still hadn't moved since finding him. Squinting in the relative darkness, he tried to assess pile as best he could. It was relatively small, and didn't appear to be dangerous.
"Hang in there, Mac, I am going to get you out."
"N't han..ging…."
"What?"
"Laying…n't hang'ng…."
Jack laughed at the correction, if his boy was able to still correct him, he couldn't be too hurt.
"Y'know Mac, I am hurt that you didn't invite me to this shindig. What with all the mood lighting, romantic bro."
"Tr'd to UN-in'te oo."
It took jack a minute to understand the slurring speech. Then it hit him like the blast of the bomb.
"Now, just wait a minute. You KNEW it was going to blow and you sent me away?!"
Jack's hands stilled from the rescue efforts, that punk.
"You do NOT get to make that decision, kid. It is my choice what I do with my life."
"I…can…t…losssse..oo… too…n't….a..n't.. …un.."
The voice under the rubble was weakening and it terrified him.
Renewing his efforts, he soon found Mac's hand. It was scratched, dirty and a glorious sight. Taking only a moment to squeeze his fingers, Jack continued to dig his friend out. Soon his shoulders emerged, then his head; his hair was disheveled and caked in dried blood but it didn't stop Jack from patting it, even if it was fleetingly.
"I got you Mac, I got you."
He was met with silence. If there was anything Jack hated, it was silence. He was always whistling, singing and just keeping the air filled. Silence was a bad sign. Silence in his line of work meant death and he did not accept that. Not today. Not with the kid.
Removing a particularly heavy beam, Jack got his first good looks at the kid. He swallowed hard. Mac was laying on his stomach, one leg twisted unnaturally, which wasn't great but wasn't what caused his stomach to drop. Bright red blood was seeping through the kid's normally blue shirt. Bright red blood was a problem. It meant an arterial bleed. Mac was bleeding out. Jack was no medic by any means but he had been in the field long enough to see some things and this isn't what he wanted to see.
The blood was exiting around a thin wood shaft that had pierced the kid's back. He couldn't tell if it went all the way through from his vantage point. Jack knew if he didn't do something, Mac was not going to make it.
I was going to try and make it all in one shot, but I am a jerk and will leave it there; also, I wrote this on my lunch hour, so its down and dirty.
This is my first MG fic, what do you think?
3/20/17 ~R.S