Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters such as MacGyver, Pete, ect….although I do own the character Alexis and would like to keep it that way.

Chapter 2

I woke up in a hospital bed, not the best place, but it was better than on the street or not waking up at all. I groaned in pain, the burning now only a slight smoldering, as I opened by blue eyes to meet up with the brown gaze looking down on me. My father was sitting by my side, like I knew he would be, and was looking down on me, his eyes showing the relief that he was feeling. All I wanted to do was close my eyes again and fall back asleep, but I knew if I did that my father would panic and I would be causing him more pain, something I didn't want to do.

I felt his hand brush my hair out of my eyes gently, and for the first time in my life, his touch actually cause me more pain. I moan softly, although I regretted doing it the moment it happened as he pulled away, sighing softly as our eyes met again. I opened my mouth to speak to him, but found that I couldn't get the words to pass my lips, the sound only more whispers and groans.

"Shh," my father said gently, gripping my hand, "you need to rest," he added as he placed a hand on my forehead, sliding it down after a moment to cup my cheek, "your fever has broke."

"W-what…" I took in a rattled breath as I attempted to continue the sentence, "h-h-happened?" I chocked out, feeling the feeling of my father's hand gripping mine gently.

"Someone was kidnapping a child," he said gently, "the doctors aren't sure what happened with you, but they do know that someone pushed him down, causing him to release the child," he replied, reading the look of confusion that had come across my face.

I remembered what had happened clearly, no one else was near the man, and no one had pushed him. "T-that can't…be…" I gasped out, closing my eyes momentarily before forcing them back open, "N-no…one touch…" I couldn't finish the sentence, the weight on my chest making it hard for me to breathe, never mind speak in full sentences.

"Take it easy, Alexis," he said, cupping my cheek gently again. I sighed; he only called me by my full name when he was worried sick about something. The last time he had said it was when I was three and I had disobeyed him and had been playing to close to the docks edge. Long story short, I didn't know how to swim and when my ball fell into the water, I thought that I could just walk in and get it. "People saw what happened," he continued, making me snap out of my trip down memory lane to look at him, "they told the police everything, how you tried to help, but couldn't because you got sick—how he was pushed."

"H-he wasn't…pushed…" I rasped closing my eyes tightly as the weight on my chest began heavier as I spoke.

"No one saw him get pushed," he admitted, "they saw him fall and the bruised hand print on his back told the rest of the story."

Bruised hand print? That couldn't be, the only thing that had touched him was the blue light that had exited from my hand, but no one saw that? How could they not have? It was bright a bright blue light that came from the tips of my fingers and had traveled a good ten feet to reach him and knock him down! Okay, I'll give them the benefit of the doubt, maybe I'm the one losing my mind and maybe I just saw something that wasn't there, maybe I missed the person that I had pushed him down like everyone one else?

"Dad…" I whispered leaving my eyes closed this time as I could feel myself being to fall unconscious, "I-it…hu-urts…" I groaned out, gripping his hand tightly, feeling him squeeze back gently.

"Rest Alexis," he said, running a hand through my hair soothingly, "I've called Pete and the assignment has been pushed until you are both up and about or well enough to ship back to America." Well enough? Was it really that bad? Was I going to die over something that no one was capable of explaining?

"W-what's…wrong…" I took in another rattled breath, feeling my father kiss my cheek gently, "…w-with…m-m-e?" I don't remember hearing his response now, only feeling more and more relaxed as I fell back asleep and got some rest.

The next time I woke up I felt I little better, the burning sensation gone completely and the weight on my chest had gone from that of an adult to that of a child. I could still feel my father's grip on my hand and I knew that he hadn't moved from that position since we had arrived here, how ever long ago that might have been. I opened my eyes slowly and hesitantly, bringing my eyes to my hand to see my father fast asleep, head resting on the bed as he knelt by my bedside.

I suddenly felt guilty for putting him through this. Had I only told him when this all starting he wouldn't be so worried about me now, he wouldn't have falling asleep and wouldn't be so tiered now. He was so worried, and it was my entire fault.

I reached out, running my fingers through his hair gently in an attempt to wake his up. I felt his grip on my hand tighten as he stirred awake, bringing his eyes to mine as I sat up with a smile.

"I hope you didn't sleep like that all night," I said, voice soft as I brought my attention to him fully, watching as he shook his head.

"How are you feeling this morning," he asked as he stood up, his back cracking as he tried to stretch the stiffness from his neck. I shrugged, kicking my feet over the edge of the bed as I also stretched.

"I feel fine now," I replied, not mentioning the weight that remained on my chest, "Strange though, how I suddenly became so ill."

"It's beyond strange," he said, turning around to face me as I grabbed a fresh pair of jeans and a t-shirt that I assumed that my father had brought from the hotel room.

"I don't think that you should move yet, Lex," he said, placing a hand on each shoulder as he pushed me back down into a laying position, clothes in hand.

I smiled back up at him, hearing him call me Lex instead of Alexis; now I knew that I was going to be alright, for the time being.

I was aloud to leave the hospital that afternoon, after two doctors and three nurses all came up with the same conclusion; that they didn't know what was wrong with me. I had a good idea that it had something to do with that tattoo, and decided since my father wouldn't let me leave the hotel room for the rest of the day, that I would check it out on my lap top and talk to Zaven to see if her brother, David, had gotten any more information on it.

My father had gone through a lot of things, being shot, attacked with a blow torch, hanged, stuck in a sinking submarine, and was thrown from a third story window to crash land on a car, but he still fell apart at the thought of me being hurt. I found it absolutely hilarious, but he was a wreck for the rest of this assignment, which included going to the museum, packing the artifacts, shipping them, and returning home.

Zaven's birthday was in two days, plenty of time to rest up and stuff before pulling an all-nighter with her and Arie. I had managed to pick up her birthday gift while in Germany, so that saved me lots of time and money, considering that the outfit only cost me twenty five or so dollars, a cute Minnie-skirt and shirt combo that I knew she'd like. My father had insisted on taking away my laptop while in Germany so that I would rest, locking it in his night table while he was gone, so I had to wait until I got home to talk to Zaven about the strange symbol.

"Well, according to David, the symbol was used in ancient Greece, symbolizing a special person," she said as she came into the door of the small two bedroom apartment, kicked off her shoes and hung up her jacket. "He said that people in those times that were considered gifted would be branded with that mark, which FYI hurt like hell," she added as she came over and sat down next to me on the couch. Burned huh? Well that explained why it hurt so much the day that it appeared on me—it was like being branded!

I had had my laptop open, sitting in my lap, but had placed it on the coffee table when I heard her knock on the door, "Anything else?" I asked, turning my attention to her as I shut the lid on the laptop closed with a click, "Like what these so call powers were?"

She thought momentarily, "Well he did mention something about telekinesis," she said suddenly, "why the sudden interest, Lex?"

I sighed, not sure at this point if I should tell her or not. I wasn't even sure if I believed it yet, but I knew that something was up, and maybe this blue light was a way of controlling objects. Use the light as a hand, and then, once control was established, I would be capable of moving objects, and even people—if I believed all of this in the first place.

"I'm just curious," I said, grabbing the remote to the television and tossed it to her, "Pick a Galaxy station," I said, wanting to put some music on while my father was out of the house and I could get away with it, "Station 900 and up," I added—God I loved having satellite.

She did just that, placing it on channel 906, hit list, and turned her attention back to me as she placed the remote back down on the table, "Lex, what are you hiding?" she asked, turning around to face me as I walked into the kitchen to get something to drink out of the fridge.

I sighed again, pouring a glass of orange juice, placing the jug back into the fridge before I turned to face her, bringing the glass to my lips. I took a sip, swallowing the liquid slowly before bringing the glass back down, "Do you really want to know?"

That was the question now wasn't it? Did she want to know, did I want to tell her, would she believe me? All good points and again, something I wasn't sure that I wanted to go into detail in; considering, I didn't even know all the answers yet.

Like every good friend, Zaven wanted to know, and I managed to gather myself long enough to sit down with my orange juice and tell her what I knew. I started with the first night, how the pain from the burning had caused me to pass out, how I found the strange tattoo a couple of hours later, how the burning persisted, then the story about the kidnapper outside the restaurant and the blue light.

By the end of it I was pretty sure that she thought that I had lost my mind, and I was almost positive that she was about to sign me up to go to the insane asylum just as soon as she found someone to sign with her, it taking two signatures to commit someone. She looked at me blankly for some time, long enough for me to finish my drink before she said something.

"You have got to be kidding me?" she said, simply, tone still that of a non-believer. I couldn't blame her, I wasn't even sure that I believed it yet, but what other explanation was there?

"I'm not," I said, turning my back to her as I lifted my shirt and showed her the tattoo, "Would I have done this to myself?" I demanded, suddenly frustrated with the situation in general.

"Well is your father Greek?" she asked as I pulled down my top and turned around to look at her, seeing the astonished look on her face.

"No," I replied, "he's Scottish."

"Your mother then?" she asked. I opened my mouth to shoot down her idea when I suddenly realized that she could be right. I never knew my mother and it was possible that she was one of these gifted people and I got it from her. Great, the one thing that she gives me and it could kill me at this rate.

"It's possible," I admitted, voice low, "I don't know anything anymore."

Zaven had stood up long ago, but with my mind on this problem of mine I hadn't noticed until I looked up from my feet and saw that she wasn't still sitting in front of me and had now begun to pace the floor like I had many time this past couple of days.

"Have you told your father?" she asked as she stopped momentarily to look out of the living room window. I shook my head, but soon realized that she hadn't seen it and voiced my answer.

"No, not yet," I said, "I don't know if I should," I added as I stood, joining my friend by the window, looking out onto the water. I loved the water, once I learned to swim in it of course, and my father had picked out this apartment especially because of the view. The morning sunrise or night sunset's were so beautiful, and the way it reflected off of it was the best—in my opinion.

"Lex, come one," Zaven said, turning to face me, "you have to tell your dad," she pressed, watching me as my expression changed. I tried not to show her the fear that I felt, but couldn't help it, I was really scared!

"Maybe you're right," I said lowly, bringing my eyes to my feet as I heard my father come into the house via the front door and kick his shoes off. He pulled his jacket off as I turned around and faced him, smiling softly, "Hey dad."

Zaven spun around, also smiling as my father hung up his jacket on a hook by the front door and looked at me curiously. "Lex, you seem nervous, is everything alright?" he asked. Damn his perceptiveness!

"Yeah," I said, turning to Zaven, "I was just talking with Zaven about some stuff and we were just going to go to the mall," I said, Zaven nodding in agreement—got to love best friend telepathic abilities!

"Well, I want you back at ten thirty," he said eyeing me as I walked past him and grabbed my jacket and shoes, "you still need to rest up from that trip, and you know our deal about Zaven's party?" he said, grabbing my shoulder, spinning me around to face him.

I knew what he was getting at, we had a long talk about this whole Germany thing, about how me suddenly falling sick, how he didn't think that it was nothing, and that he wanted me to take it easy until he was sure that I was alright. He didn't even want me to go to Zaven's birthday, but since I promised and refused to just not show up, so we came to the conclusion that I could go to her party if I took it easy until then.

"Yes dad," I said gently, flashing a fake smile before slipping my shoes on, "I know, and I'll be back by ten thirty, I promise," I added. I felt his grip loosen and I pulled my jacket on before walking out of the house and headed down the stairs at the front of the house.

I could hear Zaven running up behind me to catch up, and felt her grip on my arm when she did.

"I thought that you were going to tell him," she said, hauling me back to be in step with her, "what happened?"

"I couldn't do it," I chocked out, putting my hands in my pockets before they began to shake fiercely, feeling a pack of gum in one pocket and my house key in the other, "I just couldn't do it, what if he thinks I'm stupid or insane?" I began to panic, feeling sick to my stomach and dizzy. "What if he thinks I'm lying," I said, and began to hipper ventilate, "What if he commits me?"

"Lex, calm down," Zaven said, and I suddenly felt her hand on my back, "he's your father and he won't commit you!" I wanted to listen to her, believe her even, but I just couldn't. I was scared, terrified, and all I could do was think of what my father would do if he found out. I couldn't breath and my head was spinning.

The next thing I knew my knees were touching the cement sidewalk and I couldn't breathe, Zaven was by my side and I heard her call to my father as my back began to burn uncontrollably.

"No, Zave," I rasped, "don't call him!"

"Hush!" she snapped back as I heard the front door slam shut and could hear my father calling my name as he ran down the stairs.

I was struggling to breathe by this point and knew that soon enough the feeling would go away. I could feel tears leaking down my cheeks as I swallowed back the lump that had jumped up into my throat. The burning had begun to move up my back slowly, which caused me to cry out in pain as my father reached my side and wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

"Alexis," he said, and I groaned, but not because of the pain, because I knew that nothing good could follow him calling me by my full name. I began to wonder what was different about the pain this time in comparison to the other time with the kidnapper. I couldn't think of anything except the fact that it was slower going this time; it was so much quicker last time. What did I do differently? How could I get this over with?

"I'm…fine…" I rasped out, crying softly as I forced the feeling of my heart beating in my throat.

"No, you aren't!" he snapped, touching my cheek gently, "Your fever is back," he whispered under his breath.

I looked out on the horizon as my vision began to blacken, this time, realizing what was different; my hand wasn't extended, the burning wouldn't stop because the blue light had no where to go!

I extended my hand outwards, reaching for the garbage can and the end of the driveway in hopes that the burning would travel up my arm and into my fingers like last time. The burning feel began to move silently but slowly up my arm and I cried out as it went into my fingers. The blue light exited my fingers with a sudden blast and hit into the garbage can, wrapping around it slowly. I closed my hand, hoping that the pain would stop, but it didn't. Instead, by closing my hand, it made the grip on the garbage can tighter and as I jerked my hand away to hug my father, the garbage can flew across the street into our neighbors' yard.

My vision went black as my father gasped, holding me tightly and the burning flared and I cried out in pain, blacking out completely.

I woke up in a couple of hours, I guess, to my father dabbing a cloth over my cheeks and facial features. Again, just like the first time, my hand was burning with such a force that it hurt to even move my fingers, and the pressure on my chest had returned to that of an adult, making it hard to breathe or speak. I opened my mouth, whispering softly to get my fathers attention, but soon stopped myself as I heard Zaven's voice, which explained why his attention wasn't on me and was to something—or in this case, someone—behind he.

"I don't think I should say anything Mr. MacGyver," she was saying, and I breathed a sigh of relief, only to have my hopes dashed as she continued, "But I do think that you should know."

"She is my daughter," he said and I moaned in pain as I struggled to speak to protest her, but couldn't manage it. I felt my father's other hand grip mine, which made me gasp in pain as he continued to try and break the fever that had its claws stuck into me fiercely.

"Is Lex's mother Greek?" she asked, sticking just outside the boundary lines of the secret. I groaned as I struggled to speak, make a sound of some kind, anything that would stop her from continuing this conversation.

"Hush, Alex," he said sternly leaving his attention on me as he wiped the cloth across my forehead, "As a matter of fact, Zaven, she was," he said after a moment.

"No…Zaven," I rasped out, breathing choppy and irregular as I struggled to get a grip on myself, "please…" I begged, gripping my father's shirt sleeve tightly for a lack of a better thing to hold on to. I could feel the weight return to my chest, making it extremely hard to breathe.

I watched as Zaven sighed, my father hushing me again before placing the cloth on my forehead and turning his attention to her fully, pivoting in his seat, "What does the fact of her mother have to do with anything?" he asked as I pulled on his sleeve, trying to get his attention away from her.

"Well," Zaven stammered as I slammed my eyes closed, my chest so heavy and my back and hand burning with such a force that I thought that I was going to suddenly be sick to my stomach, "you see, there is something that you have to know and I don't think that I can explain it properly," she said, again, staying just on the line.

I sighed, not sure if I was in the clear or not, but knew that all I could do now was fight for air and hope to god that Zaven could keep her mouth shut until I was capable of making full sentences once again.

I hated being so helpless, so weak, but after one of my episodes it was hard for me not to be. It hurt so much and all I wanted to do was cry, but didn't dare, knowing that that wouldn't help my current situation; I was having enough trouble breathing as it was, the last thing I needed was to get chocked up on sobs. So instead, I gripped my father's sleeve or hand and waited to either pass out or for it to pass.