Okay. So call it 'the gift that keeps on giving'.

The truth is, there was a bit more to the story that I hadn't posted online. Well, more than a bit. But some of it didn't meet posting standards for this site, so I left it off until I had time to figure out how to get as much of it postable as I could.

This version isn't quite the 'Director's Cut' – but it's certainly a re-release, with a couple more 'bonus scenes' following the credits. If you think you've already read this – re-read.

And (I hope) enjoy.

Beth

Phoenix Rising

Chapter Ten & 3/4

Upgraded Version 2.0

- x -

"NO, Mac. No way. End of discussion."

MacGyver stood in the middle of Jason's new San Francisco condo, arms akimbo, grinning unapologetically. "Aw, c'mon. Whatever happened to being open-minded?"

"You're the one who told me not to let my brains fall out! And if you show up to my handfasting in that shirt, somebody's brains are gonna be served up on a platter for the potluck, and it ain't gonna be mine!" Jason glared at Mac. "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? Just to get at me?"

Mac laughed and shrugged. "Just tryin' to get you to relax. I can't do it by getting you drunk, after all, and that's supposed to be the traditional method."

"Well, you could . . . " Jason muttered.

"I won't. Same difference."

"Well, threatening me with that shirt is not relaxing, okay? A shirt that ugly has to be bad luck."

"Oh, so now you believe in plain ordinary luck?"

"After everything I've seen you pull off, I've got to," Jason murmured. "But – luckily enough! – Gina had a hunch that you might pull something like this." He produced a package from underneath a sofa cushion and tossed it to Mac. "Present for you – from both of us, kind of, but mostly from Gina."

MacGyver pulled off the wrapping expecting the worst, and broke out into a broad grin when he held up the contents: a short-sleeved, open-collared cotton shirt in bright sky blue, a colour guaranteed to make any DXS ops coordinator froth at the mouth. It was spattered with cartoonish figures in red and yellow of rocket ships and explosions, and large white and yellow letters reading "BANG" and "BOOM". The shirt wasn't merely 'conspicuous' or even 'attention-grabbing': it was strident.

Mac loved it on sight.

"Gina found it at one of the downtown boutiques – she's got five new clients already thanks to Ruth, and now that she doesn't have to commute across the Gate, she's got more time to stir up customers." Gina ran her own business, doing window dressing design for high-end shops. "So what's she doing? Getting more exclusive. You wouldn't believe how much an ordinary shirt costs in the place where she scored that one. Not that she paid for it. She never pays for clothes. I think she permitted them to give it to her."

Mac had unbuttoned and shed the flowered shirt he'd worn to bait Jason, and was standing in his khaki slacks checking his new acquisition for pins as Jason talked. He realised he'd been grinning too hard to say thanks.

"Well, hell, it's the least I can do after everything you've done . . . and if you expect me to believe that you had nothing to do with our getting this condo, you can think again. I may not be a genius – " Mac would have interrupted, but Jason gave him no opening. " – but I'm not naïve. I know just how tight housing is in San Francisco . . . I mean, look at this place. I can walk to the embassy from here, and Gina's an easy transit hop from her clients."

Mac couldn't help feeling a true sense of smugness, looking around the condo. Ruth Collins hadn't been kidding when she said she believed in incentives. When Pete had told her about the informal 'bonus' system he and MacGyver had developed over the years, she'd been delighted with the idea and had insisted on adopting the same practice immediately. Her insidious network of contacts had scored the condo for Jason and Gina, which had eliminated one of the obstacles to their marriage.

MacGyver was still wondering about some of the other obstacles. "Um, Jason . . . did you ever hear from Karen? Is she gonna be there?"

Jason shrugged. "Nothing final, but that's final enough. I had to be honest with her, Mac – I told her our father was coming."

Mac blinked at him. "Karen told me you were the only family she had left."

"Did she? Well, you can't blame her for not counting Dad – he and Mom got divorced when we were in our teens, and she took it pretty personally. After Mom died, she kind of pretended he didn't exist either. Actually, so did I – it wasn't till after I got back from Czechoslovakia that I got back in touch with him."

"Good for you."

"Good for Baba, really. She made me do it; gave me a really awful scolding. But I'm glad now. So how's the new job working out?"

MacGyver's face became incandescent. "Aw, it's terrific. Man. Where do I begin? I just wrapped up three weeks of marine habitat studies down in Monterey – we're assessing the status of the Marine Gardens park there, you know, and – " he was about to launch into a more detailed description when he saw Jason's eyes showing signs of glazing. Instead, he broke off with a sheepish look. "Anyway, I had to take a break in the middle of that for a field test of your embassy security."

Jason stared at him. "That was you?"

Mac shrugged and nodded.

"Do you know how badly you freaked out the ambassador?" Jason demanded. "Since your little visit, they've added so many new security protocols, it takes me three times as long just to get in and out of the building!"

Mac shrugged again. "Well, just between you and me, I've seen birdfeeders that were harder to get into."

Jason shook his head and glanced at the clock. "C'mon, hotshot. We need to get going." He studied Mac thoughtfully. "You know, I had my doubts when Gina brought that shirt home, but it's okay. But what happened to your hair? It looks lighter than it used to be."

Mac pulled one of the longer strands around so he could peer at it. "Beats me. You remember when Baba had me use that dye to darken my hair, when she took me to Baranyev's house that first time? Afterwards, she gave me some other stuff to get rid of the dye, but I swear it made everything way lighter than before."

Jason shrugged. "Well, you know what they say – if you stay in California long enough, sooner or later you'll turn into a blonde. Now you just need to get a red sports car."

- x -

The hills of Marin County dozed under the August sun, and even the birds were quiescent, sheltering in the shade of the thickets until the heat of afternoon was gone. Preparations for the wedding had paused until the sun passed far enough to the west that the hammerblows of summer no longer hit so hard.

"Gypsy time," Jason had called it. "Maybe we're just pretending, but it's still a good idea. Who says we have to be in a hurry?"

Mac thought it was a terrific idea. In Baba's grand tent, the sides had been looped up so that the breezes off the Pacific would pass through and keep the shady inside cool, or at least cooler. Most of the guests wouldn't arrive until early evening anyway; in the meanwhile, half the people who had been getting ready were now sprawled in the shade, dozing or resting, and the others were gathered around where Tasha was telling stories.

"When the wise woman saw that the Prince held a single feather of the Firebird in his hand, she shook her head at him. 'Go home, young man. Abandon your quest. Cast that feather away from you, or it will be your death.' "

MacGyver was sitting with Willow on his lap, listening to Tasha. When the child had been handed over to him, Raven had insisted that it was just to keep her out of trouble while the preparations were made for the celebration; but Mac suspected that he was also being kept out from underfoot. They'd been happy enough for his help in setting up tents and rigging canopies, although he tended to ask awkward questions when it came to the rest of the arrangements. But the men had begun to shed their shirts as the day and the work grew warmer – Mac had cached his new shirt in the relative safety of the Jeep – and when the women began to follow suit, his confusion and embarrassment had begun to interfere with his ability to help.

He didn't really mind; the afternoon sun was hot, the shade was comfortable, there was a samovar full of iced tea, and Tasha was a good storyteller.

" 'I cannot,' the Prince declared." Tasha's voice hit a deep register. " 'I will never give up my treasure. My father sent me to seek out the Firebird itself, and I will not return without it.' He held up the feather. 'See how brightly it shines! It fills my heart with joy. For this treasure I will give up all that I have and all that I might have had.' "

Mac suddenly recalled one of the pictures on the wall of the Baranyev library, barely noticed at the time: it had shown a young man in fairy-tale costume, reaching out to seize a bird that had looked something like a peacock, only flying. The bird had been blazing with radiance against a night sky, and the light had caught the young man's face; but his expression hadn't been joy or delight. It had been naked greed and blind ambition. Mac shivered at the memory, remembering his last sight of Arvil Baranyev, demented with grief, his shirtfront stained with his father's blood after he had finally let go of the dead man.

Willow began to wriggle and squirm. After a moment, Tasha paused and looked at her fixedly. "Willow – "

"He's leaking." The declaration was petulant, but matter-of-fact.

Tasha shook her head reprovingly. "Everyone leaks, sweetie. You know what you're supposed to do."

Willow hunched her shoulders, rubbed at her arms briskly, then relaxed, wiggled around and looked at Mac consideringly. He studied her, not sure what to say.

"Much better," Tasha said.

Willow beamed like a small nugget of sunlight. She started to dig through her pockets. "Wanna see what Baba gave me?"

"Uh, sure."

After a moment, Willow stopped hunting through her pockets and fished out a braided cord that hung around her neck. A farrier's nail hung from it, a large one, big enough to shoe a Percheron. Mac raised an eyebrow, not sure what to say.

"It works like this." Willow unlooped the cord from her neck and stabbed the nail into the ground. "See? All the bad stuff goes into the earth."

"Um, cool."

" 'Lectricity works like that too. Did you know that?"

"Uh-huh."

Willow pulled the nail out by its cord and examined it thoughtfully. "Tasha says not to stick metal stuff into sockets. Or fingers. Did you know that?"

"Um, yeah, I learned that one a while ago." Mac gave her a hug. "I learned it the hard way. My mom was real mad at me afterwards, but I think it was just 'cause I scared her."

"Was she mad at you a lot?"

Mac couldn't help laughing. "Sometimes it seems that way. I guess I was a real handful."

- x -

As the sun dropped, activity resumed, especially around the cooking area; but MacGyver had done his share of the heavy lifting and hauling around there earlier, and was glad to keep his distance. He had found he didn't care for the smell of the meat in the roasting pit. It made a big difference, being at home more often and able to choose what he wanted to eat.

He'd already given notice on the lease of the beach loft before the pressure from the DXS had ceased to matter, and he hadn't been able to regain the tenancy; he still regretted that bit of bad timing. But the new loft was airy and convenient, and he'd been able to fill the fridge with fresh fruits and vegetables and actually eat them, instead of returning after yet another sudden and unexpected overseas trip to face a fresh batch of science experiments.

Mac had returned to the parking area to retrieve his shirt from the Jeep. Enough cars had arrived that newcomers had a longer walk than before, and the trodden grass of the field was dusty; he had to give the shirt a good hard shake before putting it on again. He wiped the dust off his sunglasses in turn and put them back on, glancing up to see an unexpected new arrival picking her way slowly along the line of dusty cars, her feet in high heels sinking awkwardly into the loose, dry earth and catching stalks of dried grass. Karen Blake, in her business suit and nylons, looked lovely and well-groomed, and hopelessly out of place.

"You'll find it easier going if you take those off," he said. He leaned against the end of the Jeep and watched her approach.

"Hi, MacGyver." Her smile was strained.

"Good seein' you."

"It's good to see you too . . . I got your message."

"And?"

"That's why I'm up here in the Bay Area." She crossed her arms, smiling nervously. "You were right. The Phoenix Foundation has a job opening in their Washington, DC branch . . . keeping an eye on the big guys in suits. I just had an interview with Ruth Collins."

"How'd it go?"

Karen started to flinch and hunch her shoulders, and turned the reaction into a shrug. "It seems she puts a lot of value in your opinion. She wants to talk to you about the 'incident' last fall."

Mac pushed his hands into his pockets and studied her thoughtfully. "So you came out here today just to make nice to me?"

"No." She turned away from him. "I came out here to be at my brother's wedding. I figured I'd go look you up after that." She looked around at the battered cars with their idealistic bumper stickers, and glanced up towards the main clearing as a wordless shout of laughter echoed across the meadow. "You know, I just couldn't picture it, but I should've known you'd find some way to fit in with these people. God knows I never could."

"But you're here."

She shrugged again. "Ruth told me that if I wanted a second chance, I was going to have to make up my mind to deserve it. I guess I had to start somewhere."

"Smart lady." Mac pushed himself away from the Jeep, gesturing with his head towards the meadow. "C'mon. Jason'll be real happy you came."

She fell in beside him, still picking her way in her high heels. "It's just hard getting used to the idea that my little brother doesn't need me any more."

Mac took her elbow to help her across the rough ground. "But he does. Just not in the same way."

- x -

After the ceremony and the feasting had ended, the drumming began. MacGyver was surprised at how much of a temptation it was. Cairbre and Moira had both asked him to sit in, and the sound tugged at him palpably . . . maybe later. He had something else to take care of first.

He'd seen Aspen within five minutes of their arrival that morning; she had greeted him with an enthusiastic "Mac! I didn't know you were going to be here!" He'd received a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek, and then he'd been sent off with Cairbre to help dig the cooking pit. He'd seen her a dozen times during the day, always in the middle of something; during the afternoon siesta, she'd been nowhere in sight. It hadn't been very encouraging.

Aspen wasn't at the firepit, but Mac was hesitant to start asking around for her . . . it seemed too transparent. After a moment's reflection, he headed for the brightly lit beacon of Baba's tent. He glanced inside as he paused at the open doorway, ready to kick off his shoes, and saw Baba holding court in a circle of giggling adolescent girls. His heart sank at the thought of running that particular gauntlet; but Baba glanced up, met his eyes, and winked. She pointed deliberately across the meadow, waved a dismissive hand, and turned away to smack Sunrise's hand as the girl started to reach for the deck of Tarot cards.

The entire exchange had taken only a moment. He left his shoes on and beat a hasty retreat in the direction Baba had indicated.

The sun had set some time back in a blaze of glory, but there had been only a faint fingernail of a moon, briefly visible at sunset. Now the dark sky was bright with stars; once away from the firepit and the torches near the tents, the meadow was shadowed and dark. Mac nearly walked into Aspen before he saw her.

She was standing by herself, her head thrown back to watch the sky. She started when she saw him approaching, and then smiled.

"Well, hi, stranger."

"Hi yourself." He stopped a short distance away. "Stargazing?"

"Yeah. I was really watching for shooting stars – Lammas is a bit early for the Perseids, but sometimes we get lucky."

"What's too early?"

"Lammas. That's what this festival is called. It's halfway between the solstice and the equinox." She pointed up towards the sky. "Look!" A streak of light smeared across the velvety darkness. "There's one!" She craned her head upwards again. "Do you know much about astronomy?"

"Some. I actually used to live at Griffith Observatory."

"What? You're kidding."

"No, really. I was the resident caretaker."

"Wow. Cool." Aspen twisted slightly, tilting her head up to the sky again. Mac stepped around to stand behind her and wrapped his arms around her, his chin brushing the top of her head as they watched the stars together.

- x -

MacGyver opened his eyes and blinked up at the feathery leaves on the trees that arched above them, the silhouette of the branches edged with the first tentative rays of dawning light. Aspen was curled up beside him in the sleeping bag, her arms still wrapped around him, her head cradled on his chest. Her grip was warm but not possessive. He lay contented for several minutes, stroking her tousled hair gently with his fingers, watching the rosy light shift to gold as the sun cleared the horizon.

After a timeless span, Mac became aware that she was awake and looking at him, the sleepiness in her eyes gradually clearing away.

"Morning."

"Yup. It's morning." Aspen squinted up at the trees. "Of all the mornings I've seen, this is definitely one of them."

Mac grinned. "Maybe I should have slipped away before you woke up . . . if only to find you some coffee."

Aspen laughed. "Some things are even better than coffee in the morning." She trailed her fingers over his chest. "I guess there weren't any important secret missions calling you away early, huh?"

"Nope."

"Lucky me, then." She was studying him closely; he suddenly felt pinned down by her scrutiny.

"What are you looking at?"

Aspen looked apologetic. "I'm trying to imagine who you are when you aren't here," she blurted. "Someone like you – what you do has to be part of who you are. I'm just trying to guess what that is. I can't figure it out."

MacGyver smiled. "You could ask."

"We don't, usually, you see," she replied seriously. "It's kind of bad manners. That's why no-one's asked you your last name."

Mac couldn't help laughing. "It's MacGyver."

"Oh!" She blinked. "Mac's short for that, right?" He nodded. "Let me guess – you're saddled with one of those don't-ever-ask first names, huh?"

"You got it."

Aspen laughed in turn. "That's why our people mostly choose their own names. But I guess you've already done that."

"Huh. Yeah, I guess I have."

"So . . . what do you do, Mac?"

Mac lay looking up at the sun-gilded trees, realising he didn't need to tell her anything other than the unvarnished, happy truth. There was no reason to be anything other than completely honest. "I work for the Phoenix Foundation. You've heard of them, right?"

"Who hasn't?" Mac could see the admiration and respect in her eyes – something that he'd never seen in the years he'd worked for the government. "But what do you do for them?"

"Well . . . whatever they need me for, really." Mac drew her closer to him, smiling. "I guess you could say I'm a troubleshooter."

- - game over - -

Final note: I have discovered I am a feedback junkie. Comments on existing stories make me want to write more. So it is in your power to influence the future. How cool is that?

'Beth