Nikki levers herself out of her office chair, more cautiously than normal. The anti-dreaming drug she's taking is a chancy sort of thing, with an appalling number of side effects- giddiness, exhaustion, plain simple weakness- but it's the only tool they have to combat Murdoc's shenanigans, so she's sticking with it. Jack Dalton's on it too (hasn't even taken out his new plane yet, to Penny's distress). MacGyver's refused it, point-blank. His usual antipathy to pharmaceuticals.
"Besides, I've got this hunch," he keeps saying. It's not as if anybody can gainsay him.
She hates this. Intelligence work is always a series of leaps in the dark, even at the best of times. Unless you're a certain blonde bombshell who's handed clear assignments because he's no good without a nice clear target- okay, so that's a little uncharitable. She must be more tired than she'd realised. But Phoenix's dream team are something else again (blast Jack for calling them that, she can't get the phrase out of her head now). They're flailing around with books and probes and nicely delineated graphs, but they don't know what they're doing. How can they not find that exasperating?
Of course, that attitude is why she's a spy and not an experimental researcher.
"Go and find yourself a distraction," she says out loud. "Stop thinking about this and let your subconscious get to work on the problem. Have a nice soothing evening out."
Fortunately, she knows just the thing.
Only MacGyver would think of turning dessert into a teaching experience; and only he could make it fun.
"The perfect mixture of the scientific," he says, passing her a set of safety goggles and a tiny blow torch, to match his. "And-"
"And what?"
"Romantic, maybe," he says, grinning. "Homemade creme brulee. C'mon, I'll show you. You'll be a natural at this in no time."
"Sugar and high intensity flame. That's..."
This time it's his turn to ask; which he does, not with words, but with a slightly inquiring tease in his eyes, a lift of the chin just so. They're worked together long enough to read each other's signals.
"Very you," Nikki whispers, letting her hand run down the small of his back. "So thoroughly, completely, utterly you."
"Shucks, you're nothing to sneeze at yourself," he returns. "Nikki, I want to tell you-"
Which is as far as he gets, since that's about the point when the fourteen heavily-armed cops barge into her apartment and arrest both of them.
Of the many and various frustrations of the next forty-eight hours, not knowing what he was going to say next is the one that bothers her most.
Interrogation. Truth serum. Her possessions vanishing without trace, a bruise on her upper arm and her left hip.
And then, just as she's got her teeth set for the long haul, it's over just like that. They toss her out of the police station, into the warmth of too-bright LA sunshine.
"Not without-" she calls.
Mac gets booted out moments after her, with a literal kick in the pants. He looks groggy and drugged-up, a little unfocused.
"Are you okay?"
"Sure. Sure," he promises her. "Did you get the same treatment I did? Questions about Phoenix?"
"Just about. Maybe a little easier than you- did you tell them anything?"
"Of course not."
"I didn't either. Where are we making for?" MacGyver's heading down the street at a sharp pace.
"Closest telephone, Becky's probably in a panic. I have to get in touch with her before anything else, she can bring my jeep round and pick us up- how about you? Anybody who ought to know where you are?"
"Pete, I suppose- but he'll wait. You first."
She tags along, feeling a trifle useless.
They find a booth; he coaxes the telephone into operation, sans dimes. Pokes his head out of the booth almost immediately.
"Nothing. Not even a busy signal."
"Try somebody else."
Three attempts later, he punches the air when he finally gets through. It's cute and stupid simultaneously- as good an agent as he can be, she doubts he's ever going to have the requisite seriousness for the job.
"Penny's on her way," he says. "Nobody's picking up at Phoenix, god knows where Jack is-"
"But Penny Parker, MacGyver? Is that what we're reduced to? Asking favours from a tabloid model?"
"Hey, that was only the once. And I'm not stopping you from walking home, if you prefer."
"Tempting," she says, carefully lowering herself down onto the sidewalk. "But I think I'll give it a miss, this time."
"Suit yourself," he says, sitting down next to her. "Here."
He's holding something out to her, a brilliant sunlit blob of colour, and for a moment- one beautiful, tender moment- she's just a woman taking a flower from her own beloved lover.
Then she blinks, and it's just plain ordinary Mac again. Who for some reason is handing her a dandelion.
"What am I supposed to do with this?" she asks, accepting the object somewhat gingerly.
"Well, they're sweeter than the rest of the plant," Mac says, brushing dirt off a few leafy greens and taking a bite. "I always hate the way my mouth tastes after sodium pentothal, don't you? Like overripe onions."
"All part of the job."
Actually, the smog-choked flower tastes worse to her than the familiar drench of truth serum; but she doesn't let on.
He does look so awfully pleased with himself.
Soon enough, Penny is peering and wailing her way through the slowness of LA traffic, while Becky wastes no time in updating them on the situation.
(At least, not after the obligatory kiss-and-cuddle between uncle and niece, that is. The teenager can hardly be begrudged that, Nikki has to admit. Having MacGyver for a caregiver has to be a stressful affair.)
"It's not good, Unc," Becky says, passing over a newspaper. "Look at this."
The headline's at least six inches tall.
"Treason charges? The Phoenix Foundation?" Mac says incredulously. "How?"
"Beats me, that's for sure. But the whole place is under lockdown until the federal investigators are done. And I mean everything- we're locked out of the apartment, even the Challengers Club has been shut down."
"This can't be happening," Mac mutters. "Won't they let you get your things, at least? You're not involved with any of this."
"I tried, Unc, but they're really serious. Four police officers raking over all our stuff, yesterday, and I have a feeling we're not getting any of it back. And your bank account's frozen. Along with the emergency credit card."
"What the hell is Pete doing?"
"Pete's in jail," Becky says, grimacing. "So's the entire Phoenix board. This isn't really the kind of thing that you're gonna clear in up three days, is it?"
"Well, we're going to have to try," Nikki says. "What about my apartment?"
"That's sealed off too."
"Nikki...never say die, but I think we're in trouble," MacGyver says with a frown. "Okay. So we're unemployed, broke, possibly going to have treason charges brought against us- is there anything else we need to know, Beck?"
"No. I think that's about it, for now."
"I should have let that hypothetical cat lady adopt you," he mutters.
"C'mon, Unc. I'd have hated that- at least this way, we're together," she says, taking his hand.
It's a warm and comforting thing, watching the two of them drawing strength from each other.
Nikki finds herself wishing, for the first time since her husband's death, that she had someone to turn to like that.
Penny's apartment is a bit cramped for one small actress. Let alone three more adults and one kid, Nikki observes.
"This is not going to be a tenable long-term situation. Or even a short-term one- why does everything smell like liquor?"
"That's just me!" Jack yells. "Two planes in two months? What the blazes is wrong with my life?"
"Language!" Penny scolds. "Did you spill any of it over my egg chair, Jack Dalton? Because if you did-"
Mac shuts the kitchen door after her and starts rooting through the cupboards. "I think I'm gonna have to agree with you there, Nikki. Got any backup plans?"
"For having my life's work taken away from me? I'm going down with the ship, MacGyver. I'm sure if I make enough of a nuisance of myself, they'll find a reason to lock me up too."
If she can't get her work back- if they're going to deny her that-
"Not an option open to me, unfortunately," Mac says, ruffling his niece's hair. "I've got somebody to look after- Becky, doesn't Penny have anything to eat besides diet shakes?"
"I get the idea Jack's been scoffing it all," Becky says. "He did mention hiding some chicken soup on top of the refrigerator."
"Fantastic. Cheer up, Nikki," he adds, cupping her chin in one hand. "We'll sort this out eventually. We always do."
"Sure. But on three days without sleep, I'm not going to any time today," Nikki says. "If you two don't mind, I'm going to go lie down."
Becky obligingly opens the door for her, then shuts it again, her eyes rather wide. "Uh, Nikki? I really wouldn't go in there right now."
"I don't care."
The teenager shrugs and gets out of her way.
She has a point- that sight of Jack and Penny falling off the sofa in an embarrassed tangle will haunt her for the rest of her days.
"Oh, go find a room, you two. I need sleep."
"I don't have another room!" Penny squeaks. "I mean, I'm really sorry, but I don't. Last month it was just me in two rooms, and now it's five people in two rooms, and that's, um- one over two is to five over two-"
"Your math's making my head hurt," Jack informs her, brushing off his mustache with great dignity. "Say. Is having this many people around even allowed in your lease?"
"Come to think of it, I don't know...but if I don't know one way or another, then I can't get in trouble for it. Right?"
"Oh my god," Jack mutters.
Nikki groans, grabs a large stuffed rabbit and a knitted throw, and retreats back to the kitchen.
"Do not even ask," she says to MacGyver, who's staring at her with a twitching mouth. "Do not."
"Okay," he says, and goes back to heating up his soup. Bless Midwestern terseness.
At least the rabbit turns out to be comfy.
Things get progressively more ridiculous over the following weeks.
Jack throws himself into legal technicalities, filling up the tiny apartment with no end of paperwork in the quest for getting his Phoenix-supplied airplane back. Penny insists that everybody take the fire escape in and out of the apartment, so they won't be going past the front desk.
"Isn't this more noticeable than just going in and out the normal way?" MacGyver asks, looking down the four-story drop with utter misery.
"I suppose we could try disguises," Penny says. "Would you like to have a look at my make-up collection? I'd love to show you!"
"Come to think of it, I'll stick with the fire escape."
Becky calmly goes and gets herself a night shift job at a fast food chain, which only further depresses her uncle.
"Working at four in the morning? Beck, that isn't healthy."
"You know I'm a night owl. And it's summer, I don't have to go to school or anything."
"Plus, I don't like that place. Their treatment of animals is beyond abhorrent."
"I'm not defending them for that. It's just that they were hiring and nobody else was."
"And you keep bringing all this junk food home," MacGyver says, around a mouthful of fries. "And I keep eating it."
"That's kinda the point. I wouldn't want my favourite uncle going hungry."
He sighs in exasperation. "This is beneath you. You're so much better than this."
"Sure. But I'm not the one who can prove Phoenix is squeaky clean, and you can- so how about getting on with that? Sooner you do, sooner I can quit."
"We're working on it," Nikki puts in. "To be brutally honest, Becky, it's not going well. We look and look, and we just find more evidence of what the prosecutors are saying."
"All trumped-up, I guess?" Becky asks.
Nikki hums to herself, sipping at her drink. Lukewarm cola is not her preferred caffeine delivery vehicle, but at least it's there. "Your uncle and I would certainly hope so."
Because if it isn't, then we gave some of the best years of our lives to agents of a foreign power.
And aside from anything else, that's just professionally embarrassing.
One afternoon, there's a knock on the door.
Everyone gets into place- Penny to answer the door with MacGyver besides her, she and Becky on the fire escape. That way they're ready for landlord inquires, spies with guns, or anything else. Turns out to be none of those.
"It's a restraining order," MacGyver reads. "Preventing us from residing in the same city as Murdoc. On account of multiple threats of violence, blah blah blah n' stuff- can you believe his nerve? And he's moved into a Bel Air mansion, to boot."
Becky frowns in a way that Nikki can't follow in the least. Either she's trying not to burst out laughing, or she's simply furious.
"Us?"
"You and me, Nikki. Guess we're out of LA for a while...it's not like we were getting anywhere with the investigation, was it?"
"No," she admits. "Something was rotten in the state of Denmark, and we never realised- I mean, I'm not surprised that Pete was trying to protect you from all that. But to think I fell for it..."
"You were always better at this game than I was, too," MacGyver says. "How'd we miss it for so long?"
She hesitates. "You're not a spy at heart, you trust too much. Wearing your heart on your sleeve...and as for me, well."
"Well?" he ventures, a long while later.
"I wanted to trust you."
And it burns in her heart. That she'd needed so much, for MacGyver to be right; and therefore, must needs accept everything else around him to be right as well. Even when her instincts had told her to move on, to keep moving, never to be attached so closely ever again-was it worth it?
She's at a loss.
"What do we do now?" she asks.
"I have an idea..."
There's a Loud Noise in the corridor, identifiable as Jack after one of his more incoherent drinking bouts. Mac groans and lets him in.
"I've got it!" he hollers in ecstasy. "My plane back! Hurrah! Hip, hip hurrah! Who wants champagne?"
"How many have you had already, Jack?" MacGyver asks.
"Zero. I'm just really really happy right now- you want a flight anywhere? Anywhere on the globe, pick a spot! Dalton Airways is back in business, baby!"
"Ooh," Penny says, hugging him in delight. "Oh, that's wonderful news! And then I can have my apartment back."
"Anybody else get the idea that this is a hint?" Becky asks. "Seems funny timing..."
"It does," Nikki agrees. "But- what else is there for us to do? We've lost. Murdoc's won."
"This is kinda not the exit from the intelligence game I was planning," MacGyver says. "But...well, there are other things to do in life."
"Such as what?"
"There's one piece of property left. The old house back in Minnesota, I put that into Becky's name. So just in case something ever happened to me, she'd at least have one place to call home."
"You never said that," Becky says.
"I thought it might sound a little morbid...anyway. If you want to come, Nikki, my door will always be open to you."
"Mac, did you just propose?" Jack inquires.
He blushes, but nods.
What else can she do, but say yes?
Mission City.
A sleepy little town, back end of beyond. Quiet and unassuming.
"I was always a city girl," she tells MacGyver, as they walk. Jack had thoughtfully deposited them on the edge of town; and departed before anyone could report his airplane for landing where it shouldn't have. "The idea of an entire community shutting down after dark is a new one on me."
"Some things never change," MacGyver says with affection. "Sure you don't need any help with that, Nikki?"
"No." It's only the one bag, with a couple of Penny's longest dresses and a clean toothbrush. She's carried more on Phoenix training trips.
"You could carry mine," Becky mutters. "'m pretty tired, Unc."
"I kept telling you that job would catch up with you."
"Well, it's behind us now. And at least we've got a little money to start off with," Becky says, yawning. "Honestly, I think I might need to just sleep for about a week before I do anything else."
"Then you do that. I'll make sure everything's okay now- and Becky?"
"Mmm?"
"I'm very proud of you. You're more of a trooper than I ever expected."
She blushes as he kisses her forehead. "Thanks, Unc."
All sweet and kind and entirely in character for these two, and there's no reason for it to annoy her as much as it does.
Of course he doesn't need you, Nikki. If he did, you wouldn't be attracted to him.
"How much further?" she asks.
"Call it a half mile or so...huh, that garage is still going. Good to know," MacGyver says. "I'll ask tomorrow, see if I can get some kind of gig there. Or ask if there's anybody else who might need a handyman."
"I suspect you're going to have more luck than I will." Her resume is essentially blank, given her spy activities. Worse than that, there is literally nothing she can imagine doing with her life. Mac says it's shock, one she'll get over; and she certainly hopes he's right.
"We'll see," he says, warm and reassuring. "C'mon."
The house turns out to be larger than she'd expected; an imposing building, looking down on the more modest houses around. There are shapes visible through the plate glass front, though in the darkness she can't quite make them out.
"We'll go in round the back," MacGyver says. "I think there's some candles in the cellar, and some firewood- I know it's a little warm for a fire, but that'll cheer us up. At least, it always did when I was a kid."
"Sounds good," Becky agrees. "And guess what I brought along? Marshmallows."
"Thoughtful as ever," Mac says, unlocking the door. "Ah- all the stuff's still here. I thought they cleaned this out a little more."
No candles: but he finds a high-powered torch that does rather better. "One of my first experiments, Beck. I never would have counted on this still working."
"Oh, that's so clever!" Becky says, cooing in delight at the rudimentary machine.
Nikki finds herself wondering whether she's turned invisible.
The floor upstairs is a bit depressing, with dust sheets covering lumps of furniture in mysterious ways; but the one above that is even more so. Avocado-green kitchen fixtures (why do they call it that, when it looks nothing like avocado?), and some horrifically '70s wood paneling.
"Oh, this is nice." MacGyver says. "Just the way I remember it."
"And the fireplace is clean," Becky observes. "Flue's good and everything."
They get to work as though they're rehearsed this, dusting and unpacking. Nikki gets to work on the fire. That, at least, was in her training.
(When is she going to have another chance to exercise her skills? Will she, ever again?)
Light. Warmth. A hot dinner.
"Could be a lot worse," MacGyver reflects. "The bedrooms need airing, though. Those mattresses should have gone years ago."
"Well, this floor's not so bad," Becky says, patting the carpeting. "We can sleep on this comfortably enough."
"For now, at least...I'll fix up some pine bough beds in the morning. Trust me, you've never slept on anything half as nice."
"And we can - ooh! You know what we should do?"
"What, Beck?"
"Buy a chicken! Or two chickens, so they can be friends."
"Not a bad idea...hey, Nikki, what do you think?"
"Oh...I don't know. I'm tired, Mac, I'm getting a headache."
(Damn it. She is not the kind of woman who gets sick headaches.)
"Want me to go and get some aspirin? I could probably borrow some from a neighbour- Mission City is friendly like that."
"No. No, I just need some sleep."
"If you're sure, then."
The other two set up a nice little nest for her on the sofa. They talk, softly, about their future, while she buries her face against the cushions and tries not to think.
Oh god. Oh god, how did I get into this?
Useless, that's what I am. Utterly useless, nothing to do with my life- or nothing to do besides hang on MacGyver's arm and compliment his handicraft, and he already has a niece to do that for him. What on earth am I doing here? The worst kind of trap I've ever been in- worse than that time in Serbia, worse than the funeral- at least those times I had my work!
A nightmare, that's what this is. A nightmare that I'll never get out of-
she has never been a praying kind of person, but Nikki Carpenter prays and hopes and silently sobs her heart out, if only this could be a dream. If she could have her office back, her missions, her files-
- she comes to, hugging Murdoc's file to her heart. Oh dear god.
She'd been so contemptuous of Jack's confession, almost signing over his soul and his friend's life for a lump of metal. And here she'd been willing herself to do just the same thing.
"Nikki, are you okay?"
MacGyver's hand is resting on her shoulder, just a light touch to wake her. For one hideous moment, his image swims in front of her, as though her surroundings might resolve into a Minnesota farmstead.
She focuses, ignoring him in favour of the girl at his side. "Becky, you have to tell me. Am I dreaming?"
"No," Becky says, startled but prompt.
"You're sure?"
"Absolutely."
Normally, she would never take anybody's unsupported word at strictly face value. Not even-
"If Becky says you're not, you're not," MacGyver promises her. All she can do is trust them.
(And heaven help her, but if this is the dream she'd rather stay asleep.)