Chapter 6

AN OLD SURF SHOP SOMEWHERE IN LOS ANGELES

MacGyver blocked another blow, then struck back with a right cross that staggered Ian.

MAC AND IAN HAVE SOME ISSUES TO WORK OUT…

The doctor blocked the next punch and retaliated with a series of his own. He was a surprisingly good fighter. He drove Mac back until he bumped against the post where he'd been tied. Ian overextended himself, exposing his midsection, and Mac took advantage by driving his knee into Ian's stomach, doubling him over, and then smashing his elbow across his face.

Page backed off, and he and Mac circled each other for a few seconds. "I told them to use chains…I just want you to know that I didn't underestimate you."

"Good thing your pals don't listen very closely," Mac retorted, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip.

"Always their biggest problem," Ian said, then he charged.

Mac used his momentum against him, spinning and driving Ian into the empty racks lining the wall. When he advanced, Ian kicked back, driving his foot into Mac's thigh and destabilizing him. Ian quickly regained his footing and attacked, pushing Mac down under a flurry of punches. Ian was strong, and knew how to land each blow to cause the maximum amount of pain.

"I wanted to take you back in pristine condition," Ian scolded between strikes. "But, as usual…you're so uncooperative!"

"You talk too much!" Mac shot back. Seeing an opening, he drew his legs back and kicked, landing his boots on Ian's sternum and knocking him back into the broken shelving.

He rolled to his feet, leveling out just as Ian jumped back up. Mac didn't give him time to regroup. He rushed in, hitting with a series of jabs that kept Ian off balance. Finally, Mac grabbed him by the shoulders and drove his knee into Ian's forehead, which dropped him to the floor. He fell and didn't move.

Panting, Mac staggered over to the work table, keeping a wary eye on his fallen captor. He hoped his kidnappers had kept his phone and not simply tossed it out the window of whatever vehicle they'd driven. A quick search of the table yielded nothing, so Mac tentatively opened Page's satchel. He didn't see any booby traps, but given how psychotic the doctor seemed to be, Mac moved carefully, just in case.

There was no cell phone in the bag—

Ian slammed into MacGyver from behind with a primal roar. They both crashed into the table, sending the bag skidding away. As they grappled, Mac saw a glint of light, and then felt a sharp, cold pain in his side as Ian stabbed him with the scalpel, slicing into his flesh.

Mac managed to strike Ian's forearm, forcing him to drop the blade. They rolled along the edge of the table, locked together. Page fought like a rabid animal, punching and clawing in blind anger.

Pushing off, Mac slammed Ian into the post, but they hit hard enough to rebound, and Mac ended up losing his balance and falling to the floor, Ian on top of him. The doctor managed to get his hands around Mac's throat and squeezed. He looked down at Mac, icy blue eyes wide and wild.

"You know, Angus…we almost never met…I was supposed to be…on a plane when the NLF called me!"

"Lucky…me!" Mac choked out, before Ian bore down and cut off his air flow completely. He pulled up, and slammed Mac into the floor hard enough to make him see stars.

Mac's eyes darted around, looking for anything that might give him an advantage. After a few agonizing seconds, he found something. He spared his right hand from fighting off Ian's tightening grip to reach for it.

Improvisation is the most useful tool an agent has when in a fight or on a mission. It can take many forms, whether disassembling a cell phone to build a metal detector, or using engine parts to build a grenade launcher…but in the end, improvisation is simply the art of using what's at hand to get the job done….

Grasping the handle on the overturned paint bucket, Mac swung with all his might, striking the side of Ian's head and pitching him to the floor. Even gasping for breath, Mac didn't wait, he rolled to his knees and swung again, striking Ian in the back with the heavy can, and then a third time, knocking him to the ground, out cold.

This time, he didn't take any chances, he unbuckled his belt, yanked it out of his pants, and used it to tie Ian's arms behind his back.

He collapsed to the floor, trying to catch his breath. For all he knew, Ian's friends leaving had been an elaborate deception, so staying put probably wasn't a good idea. He looked around, trying to find something better than his belt to restrain the crafty doctor.

There wasn't much in the room to work with, but Mac crawled over and started examining the doctor's bag to see if there was anything useful. A small box of vials containing different kinds of drugs, a set of scalpels of different sizes, a set of long needles, a pair of pliers, various first aid supplies…and a pair of long metal probes with which Mac was all too intimately familiar. He suppressed a shudder and threw them down to the floor, shooting Ian a hateful look.

The only item even remotely useful was a roll of medical tape. In a pinch, that could be used to wrap wrists and ankles…he set the bag aside and moved toward Ian. Halfway there, the door to the room opened, and Mac jumped, fearing that he'd been right and Ian's friends were back.

It took a long, fearful moment to recognize the silhouette of Rhett, the Phoenix TAC team's point man. Mac released a relieved sigh and fell back into a sitting position while the team secured the room.

Desi and Russ were third and fourth through the door, respectively. Desi spotted him and rushed over. "Mac!"

He waved, focused on breathing through his bruised throat. "Really good…timing…as usual."

"Are you all right?"

"I am now," Mac nodded, smiling up at her gratefully.

"Riley's been worried sick about you," Desi said quietly. Her expression said little, but her eyes revealed that Riles wasn't the only one.

"Yeah, me too," he replied.

Taylor stepped over to examine Ian's unconscious form. "Ah, I see the doctor is out."

Mac rolled his eyes. Instead of thinking of a clever riposte, he simple allowed himself to drop back on the dusty floor and relax.

MAC MAC MAC

Riley found Mac hunched over a computer terminal in one of the Phoenix's private offices. The cold pack from the Infirmary was sitting next to the keyboard. She frowned. He was such a difficult patient.

"You're supposed to be keeping that on your throat."

Mac smiled faintly and picked up the cold pack, pressing it against his skin. He didn't look up from the screen.

Stepping closer, Riley lifted his shirt to make sure the bandage was still in place over his stitches, then raised her eyes and saw the files he was reading. Andrew Lockington, US Army, Retired. "I thought your debrief was over."

"It is," Mac said quietly. His voice was scratchy from the swelling. Page had nearly squeezed his head off. "Just looking up something."

"You okay?"

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, just…thinking about a few things."

His expression was unreadable. Mac's default setting was to bottle things up, but she didn't want to push. He looked exhausted, which he probably was after two stressful days and two sleepless nights. Riley wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rested her chin on the back of his head. "Wanna go home?"

Mac huffed. "I'd love to…but my house doesn't have any doors."

Riley smiled. Mac would probably end up repairing everything himself, but he didn't appear to be up for a trip to the hardware store any time soon. "We can always stay at my place for a few days. It still has doors. I hope."

"Probably a good idea."

She reached down to take his hand, but when she moved to lead him from the room, Mac stopped her, setting down the cold pack and wrapping his other hand over hers. "Riles…."

Recognizing the look on his face, she stopped and settled against the desk, still holding his hand. "What's wrong?"

Mac stared at her for a long few moments, then looked away. "There's uh…there's something I want to tell you…something I haven't told anyone."

She frowned, but said nothing, letting him work the words out on his own.

"Last year, in Tunisia, toward the end…Ian had been interrogating me for hours, he'd keep going until I passed out, and then wake me up and start over. It was…." His voice cracked. He stopped and shook his head, and she could see him reliving the memory behind his eyes. "At-at one point, I felt myself starting to lose consciousness, and I knew…it'd only be a few minutes before he'd dump water in my face and start again, but in that moment, I saw his eyes, and…I knew if he woke me up…I'd tell him everything."

Riley saw the look of anguish on his face and slid off the desk, kneeling in front of him to stay in his eye line when his head dipped.

"It-it wasn't a secret or anything, but…I guess, at the time, I just couldn't process it. The thing is, he saw it. He told me last night…he knew he'd broken me…and if you hadn't come into the room when you did…."

He trailed off. Riley kissed his hand. "It's okay."

Mac looked down at her with such pain in his eyes that it almost physically hurt her to see. "It's not, really."

Point. Riley amended. "It will be okay. Eventually."

"Yeah," Mac said. "I just…I needed to tell someone."

Riley gave him a supportive smile, knowing how difficult the admission must have been, and how long he'd probably waited to get it off his chest. It was little wonder he'd had so much trouble sleeping in the past year.

"You beat him, Mac. It took a while, but you won in the end."

He smiled at that, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He turned and looked at the computer monitor again. "Riles, are you still hooked in to the FBI database?"

"Yeah," she replied. The Bureau had granted them access while processing the two crime scenes and during the manhunt for MacInerney and his gang. Mac appeared to be wrestling with a decision. "Why?"

Mac turned back to her. "I, uh, I need a favor. A big one."

MAC MAC MAC

SECURE DETENTION FACILITY, SOMEWHERE IN NEVADA

TWO WEEKS LATER

The guard buzzed MacGyver into the East wing. From there it was a short walk to cell. Pausing just before reaching the cell door, he took a deep breath. It was the same prison where the Phoenix had kept Murdoc, though after the Phoenix lost its government standing, the facility had been ceded to the FBI, who used it for holding dangerous criminals awaiting trial.

Gathering himself, Mac moved ahead, stopping in front of the plexiglass cell door and clasping his hands behind his back. It took a moment for the cell's occupant to notice him. When he did, his eyes widened.

"Angus?"

Mac said nothing. Ian stood and moved closer to the door, eyeing him closely. His expression soured. "Here to gloat? I expected better of you."

"I'm not here to gloat," Mac said, glancing back toward the guard desk. They could see him, but he was too far away for them to hear. "I'm here to tell you something."

Ian watched him warily. "All right."

"I wanted to tell you that the FBI caught up with Phillips in Colorado. They arrested him two days ago. MacInerney and Doyle are holed up in Montana, and the Marshals are closing in on them as we speak."

Shrugging, Ian didn't seem overly concerned. "You know how the old saying goes: 'you pays your money, you takes your chances.' They knew helping me might land them in trouble."

Mac smirked. "So much for looking out for your friends."

"Cost of doing business."

"I thought you'd also want to know that Adam is back home with his family. I made sure his fingerprints and cell phone records were deleted from the FBI's evidence file. There's nothing to show him ever being in California in the past month."

A look of surprise crossed Ian's face, then gratitude. "Thank you, Angus. I mean it. I'm grateful for—"

"I didn't do it for you," Mac said flatly. "I read Adam's file, what happened over there. He's suffered enough. He's at home, happy, and he'd never done anything illegal until you came back into his life. He's spent years trying to get the Army to reverse its verdict in your trial, because he truly believes in your innocence. He's a loyal friend."

Ian smiled sadly. "Yes, he is."

"Which is why I also sent him a copy of your unredacted file, and copies of all the recordings we made of your confessions when I was interviewing you. It's time he knew who his best friend really is."

Mac tried to conceal his enjoyment of watching the color drain from the doctor's face. He wasn't sure he was entirely successful. He didn't feel proud of himself for it, but he couldn't deny the emotions. Ian's eyes dropped to the floor as the information sank in.

"Goodbye, Ian," Mac said quietly. "We'll never see each other again."

He turned to leave. After a step he heard Ian speak.

"We'd better not, Angus…."

MAC MAC MAC

MacGyver's eyes opened slowly. He blinked as they adjusted to the light. It took a beat for his still slumbering brain to identify the different ceiling pattern, until it clicked that he was looking up from Riley's bed. He rolled his head to his left, finding Riley propped on her elbow, watching him.

He felt a feeling of dread. "Did I wake you up again?"

Riley smiled. Her free hand was resting on his chest, and her nails lightly scraped his skin. "No, I've been waiting for you to wake up."

Mac frowned, rolling his head to the right and finding the clock. 10:00 AM. His eyes widened. "We're late."

"Day off, remember?" Riley said, chuckling.

He blinked slowly, trying to piece together…anything. "Last thing I remember is getting back from Nevada last night…."

"Mm-hmm," Riley nodded, reaching up to brush the hair out of his face. "And then you slept like a baby."

"All night?" Mac asked, surprised.

"All night."

"I didn't have any dreams?" He asked groggily.

"Well," Riley grinned. "One. But, I think it was a good one."

Mac processed that, and smiled. Had she watched over him all night? He couldn't remember the last time he slept through the night without a nightmare. It felt like forever. He looked back at her, remembering what she had said. "You were waiting for me to wake up?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Were we supposed to do something today?" Mac couldn't think of anything, but sometimes he got too focused on—

"Nothing planned, but I did have an idea," Riley said.

"What do you want to do?" he asked, rubbing at his sleep encrusted eyes.

She slid closer to him, whispering in his ear. "Something spectacular."

END