Part Two

"You."

The figure moved slightly, opening one eye. A smile ghosted across the bruised mouth and one bandaged hand lifted in a languid wave.

"Hello MacGyver." The voice was no more than a croak. "Thank you for coming to see me."

MacGyver shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and strode towards the bed.

"Explain to me why I'm not calling the police RIGHT NOW to come and pick you up?!" He spun away, pacing the length of the room. A cracked and breathy laugh followed him. "What sick game is this NOW? You pretend amnesia and you tell the doctors that I'm your best friend? What the heck are you playing at, Murdoc?" MacGyver balled his hands into fists and glared at the man in the bed.

"Don't you want to know what happened to me, MacGyver?" Murdoc's whisper sounded amused.

"I don't care what happened to you! Whatever it was, I'm sure you deserved it!" Murdoc shifted painfully on the pillows and reached out for a paper cup of water.

"Interestingly enough, no. Not this time. This –" He indicated himself with the cup, "This is the direct result of NOT carrying out a hit. Ironic, isn't it?" Murdoc drained the cup and set it down, watching MacGyver intently.

MacGyver scowled back at him.

"You've got exactly one minute to make this relevant before I call the cops." Murdoc nodded.

"Very well. I refused to carry out a hit because it would have involved the deaths of a group of children as collateral damage. Knowing the job would be offered to another HITman, I made an anonymous phone call to the police and told them about the threat. Do I have your attention now?"

"OK." MacGyver studied the smaller man, trying to decide of he was telling the truth.

"But I wasn't as careful as I should have been, and word got back. HIT sent someone to show me the error of my ways."

"Looks like they nearly succeeded too." MacGyver couldn't remember when he'd last seen someone in such a bad state. Murdoc nodded.

"Rumours of my death and all that, eh, MacGyver?" Murdoc closed his eyes and frowned. "However, as you can see, I'm temporarily inconvenienced, which is why I need a favour from you." He cracked one eye open to watch MacGyver's reaction.

For a moment, MacGyver just stared.

"You want a…" He closed his mouth, blinked and tried again. "You want me. ME, to do YOU a favour. Wow." He turned and paced the room. "Wow. A favour." MacGyver shook his head. "How much have your brains been scrambled? You and I have spent the last however long on opposite sides! You're the bad guy! You kill people! For money! You're…" MacGyver clenched his fist and waved it at Murdoc. Murdoc watched him, waiting for him to finish.

MacGyver let out a sigh and dropped his hand down to his side.

"I don't even have the words for what you are, Murdoc." He sat down in the chair.

Murdoc waited.

"Man, you must be desperate if you're coming to me for help." MacGyver shook his head. "Why ARE you coming to me for help?"

Murdoc carefully folded the edge of his bedsheet, avoiding MacGyver's eyes.

"Because I need your particular set of skills. And…"

"And?" Murdoc bunched the sheet between bandaged hands.

"And because I don't have anyone else I can ask." He pressed his lips tight together and folded his hands.

"What makes you think you can ask me?" MacGyver was still angry, but anything that caused Murdoc to lose his cool was probably worth investigating…

"Do you remember when we worked together before?"

MacGyver folded his arms.

"Worked together is stretching the truth, don't you think?"

Murdoc waved a hand dismissively.

"So you remember how… persistent my work colleagues can be, yes?"

"I remember. Where is this going, Murdoc?"

Murdoc watched MacGyver, waiting for the penny to drop. He watched horror dawn in MacGyver's eyes, and nodded.

"That's right. The hit is going to go ahead without me."

MacGyver blew out a sigh and sat back in his chair. If Murdoc was right, then he might very well be the only person in a position to prevent the deaths of innocent children caught up in some twisted plot to assassinate… Who? Or was it another of Murdoc's mad plots to get to MacGyver himself? Had he walked straight into a trap? Then again, whoever had attacked him had clearly meant to kill him, so…

"Tell me about the hit." MacGyver dropped his head into his hands. "I can't believe I just said that!"

"It seemed like a straightforward job," Murdoc settled back in his bed. "Jerry Overton, elementary school teacher by day and conspiracy theorist by night, had been digging around in places he'd have been better leaving alone and unearthed some very dirty secrets about a big pharmaceutical company. Going public with this information led to some very expensive lawsuits and a number of senior management positions suddenly becoming vacant." MacGyver nodded, remembering the story breaking in the news recently.

"Well, success went to Overton's head and he carried on digging. Eventually someone decided that he must be made to stop. Threats didn't work and he wound up on my desk a week or so ago." Murdoc sighed and shifted again as if his back was hurting him. "I recommended a hit at home, no collateral damage, but the client rejected the proposal. Wanted something loud and messy, something to send a message to Overton's conspiracy theorist friends, you know? And the client suggested a school bomb." MacGyver was surprised to see that Murdoc looked sick at the idea. He waited for the HITman to compose himself without commenting.

"And I couldn't do it." Murdoc picked at the bandages on his hand. "But, of course, when I called in the bomb threat, it got tracked back to me and the HITman whose paycheck I'd ruined came to thank me in person. He'll try again, and he'll do it before the Summer Program finishes on July 15th, because the client has already expressed impatience with how long the job's taking." He smiled at MacGyver, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "So here we are. I know about it, but can't prevent it. Now you know about it too. The question is, what will you do about it?"

MacGyver stood up and crossed to the window, parting the blinds to peer between the slats. Seeing no snipers on the surrounding rooftops or suspicious-looking characters in the parking lot below, he let the blinds snap shut and turned back to Murdoc.

"This still sounds like a matter for the police. They have bomb disposal experts for this kind of thing, you know? Some of them are really good!" Murdoc flinched, as though MacGyver's sarcasm had stung. "So why do you want me? Which of my 'particular set of skills' did you want to exploit?" MacGyver made quote marks in the air, then shoved his hands back into his pockets.

Murdoc frowned, nettled by MacGyver's inability to understand.

"Come, come, MacGyver. The HITman we're dealing with is cunning, adaptable and creative. His skill with explosives rivals mine and I need someone who can not only get into the school undetected, but also defuse whatever he finds in there. If my 'colleague' sees the bomb squad pulling up in all their noisy glory, I guarantee he'll detonate remotely." Murdoc lay back against his pillows, his face grey under the bruises. "I need you, MacGyver."

MacGyver studied the broken man before him. Murdoc was dangerous and crazy, but he was also sincere, believing totally in whatever he was doing at the time. And now he was reduced to begging help from his nemesis.

"Man, I bet that hurt to say." Murdoc hunched deeper into the pillows, but didn't reply. "OK, Murdoc. Tell me everything I need to know about this guy."

After MacGyver left, Murdoc turned his attention to his room. He had to find a way to escape, no matter that he's promised MacGyver that he'd turn himself in once the bomb had been defused. But how to escape when he couldn't move…

Experimentally, Murdoc tried to wiggle his toes again. The blanket over his feet twitched slightly in response, and Murdoc grinned a wide, feral grin.