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 3

I woke up a couple of days later in my room, instead of the couch where I had woken up the first time. I could hear my father in the next room, my door being open, typing on my lap top. I sighed, feeling that the pressure had been relieved and the pain was no longer unbearable. I sat up slowly, feeling a little dizzy, but no worst for wear and threw my legs over the edge of my bed, placing them firmly on the floor and waited a little longer before I even attempted to stand on them. I stood still for a moment and once I deemed it safe, I walked out of my room and into the kitchen, avoiding eye contact with my father and got a glass out of the cupboard.

"Nice to see you up," he said as I grabbed the pitcher of orange juice from the fridge, not wanted to test my stomach to try and put cola into it, and poured myself a glass.

"It's nice to be up," I said, keeping my mouth shut about this entire situation until I knew exactly what Zaven had told him. I returned the pitcher to its respectable place in the fridge and turned around to see the back of my father's head as I took a sip from the glass.

"You going to tell me what's going on or do I really have to ask you?" he said suddenly, which actually startled me and caused me to gag on my orange juice.

"You just did, didn't you?" I replied once I managed to swallow the juice and not inhale it.

"Not directly," he shot back as he turned around to face me and motioned for me to grab a seat across from him in the rocking chair, "So will you start with what just happen outside a couple of days ago, or the time it happened in Germany?" he demanded.

I sat down slowly, the glass still in my hand, gripped tighter than I had originally intended but I couldn't help it. This was the first time that I actually couldn't read my father's expression or tone, the first time that I was in the dark about what he was thinking or feeling and it scared me to think.

"How did you know that it happened in Germany?" I demanded, "I could have just been sick then," I said, taking another sip.

"Same symptoms except this time you attacked a garbage can and not a kidnapper," he said, bringing his eyes to me instead of the computer screen in front of him.

"I didn't attack anyone or anything!" I said, suddenly angry. How dare he say that I had attacked them? I did no such thing! The first time it happened, I had no damned control over it and didn't even know what had happened, never mind attacking someone—which has to be done intentionally. As for the garbage can, it had it coming! I hated that ugly thing from day one and it just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Alright, then start talking and explain it to me, Lexa," he said, his voice still detached. The only thing that I could read off of him was the look of worry that had cross his eyes at that moment, followed closely with a look of hurt. I had never lied to my father and I used to tell him everything, but this was different.

"So it started in Germany," I admitted, taking another small sip as I waited to see his expression, which hadn't changed, "I don't know what it is, all I know is that after this tattoo thing burned its way onto my back I have had this episodes that cause damage…" he cut me off suddenly, eyes wide.

"Tattoo thing? Burned?" he asked, "what tattoo thing?"

I sighed as I stood and placed the glass on the table. I turned around and lifted my shirt high enough to reveal my new branded mark, "This tattoo thing," I said and then turned back around to face him. "It's hard to explain," I said, feeling my eyes begin to water, but I pushed back the urge to cry all together, "when I get upset my lower back where the tattoo is starts to burn like hell, and then it moves up my back, down my arm, and out of my hand as a blue light, that apparently, only I can see…" I trailed off again as I felt the lump in my throat rise again and I thought that my voice may crack.

My father stood up and walked over to me, "Why didn't you just tell me?" he said gently, "I may have been able to help."

"What was I suppose to say?" I demanded, this time my voice cracking as tears formed in the corners of my eyes and began to stream down my cheeks to drip to the floor at our feet, "Dad, I'm a freak?"

He sighed, pulling me into a hug as he shook his head, "No Baby," he said gently as I began to cry into his chest, all the frustration, pain and fear that I had been feeling was all coming out now in the form of tears as my father's grip got tighter, "You are far from a freak—gifted maybe, but not a freak."

I looked up at him, "I can't control it," I chocked out between sobs, my blue eyes locking with his emerald ones, "What if I hurt someone?" I asked, voice low, almost a whisper.

"We'll figure this out," he said, pulling me back into a hug. He kissed the top of my head as I wrapped my arms around his waist and hugged him back.

"I wanted to tell you," I whispered into his chest, "I just didn't know where to start."

It only took a couple more minutes before I managed to control myself and I was able to stop crying. My stomach was flipping by then, but I pushed the sick feeling side long enough to be able to sit down as my father went to his bedroom. I hadn't even noticed that he was gone until he came back and sat down next to me, handing me an envelope.

"I got this in the mail a week after I brought you home from the hospital," he said, handing me a letter. I took it and noticed that it was addressed to 'Baby MacGyver', which I found strange considering that at the time, she couldn't have possibly been sure that he would have taken me—he had the option to put me up for adoption at the hospital. "I sighed for it under the agreement that only you would open it," he said after a moment of silence, "it's from your mother," he added.

"It's from my mother?" I asked, looking down at the delicate hand writing and old, yellowed paper, "Why?"

"I don't know," he said, "I never opened it."

I turned the envelope around, noting that there was no return address, and ripped it open. I pulled out a small letter that had name MacGyver across the front. I unfolded the pages and began to read the small note that was written on the inside in a delicate purple pen.

My dearest Baby:

I am so sorry that I can't be there for you, but I have bigger problems right now and I don't have the time to raise you the right way. Your father is a good man, my child, trust in him, he will never do you wrong. I know that he will do a great job in molding you into the great person that I am positive you will become, and I thank him for taking on this responsibility.

I understand that in the near future you will be confused, and I know that you are angry that the only thing I ever gave you was this curse, but if you embrace it and concur it, I promise you that you will never regret being a protector of the innocent.

Be strong and know that I will always love you no matter where I or you may be. Listen to your father and be all that you can be.

Love Always,

Mommy

I gritted my teeth against the sudden anger that ran through my body as I read the last of the letter. Loves me? Mommy? Dearest Baby? Where in the hell was all of this coming from? How could she have something more important to do than raise me, her daughter? How could she just leave me and assume that MacGyver would take up the trash that she didn't want. I crumpled up the letter in my tight fist and tossed it to the floor angrily.

"Yeah right," I muttered under my breath as I stood up and began to pace the floor out of pure anger. I couldn't believe this! She knew what she had done to me and she left me with my father, someone who knew nothing about it because he could do a better job then her? I could use her knowledge of this 'gift' right now to master it and instead I am pacing in an apartment as my father picks up the crumpled piece of paper and smoothed it out on the coffee table.

How could she just walk away from me when she knew the pain and suffering I was going to go through? I could have killed that man easily and she's worried that I'm not going to listen to my father? How twisted are this woman's values? I hate her! She did this to me and left me without a warning or an answer to the problem, the nerve this bitch has!

"Lex," my father said gently, coming up behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder, "I'm sure she had her reasons…"

Wrong thing to say! "What reasons could she have to abandon me and you?" I said, spinning around to face him, "What excuse could she have to explain why she left us high and dry, dropped me in your lap, without so much as an answer to how to control this damned curse so that I don't kill someone?"

He sighed, "I don't know," he said, his emerald eyes locking with mine, "I really don't Kiddo."

I was past angry at this point, and was going to blow my top until I felt the burning in my back flair up. I cried out, holding my back as I hit my knees in pain and cursed lowly as I tried to calm myself down so not to blow a hole in the wall or worst than that hurt my father.

"Breath Alexis," he said as he knelt down in front of my and cupped my cheek. I slammed my eyes closed as tears began to leak once again from the corners of my eyes and I became even angrier at my mother for not telling me what to do to control it.

"It hurts," I groaned as I tried to breath and stop the burning, but it wasn't working and only served to make my temperature rise, my blood boiling with anger. I could feel the burning start to travel up my back and I began to sob as my father touched my cheek and I realized that he was still around. I might hurt him in such a small room if I were to release it the way I normally do, but no matter how hard I tried to breath and calm down, my anger towards my mother would surface and take the place of my calmed nature and cause the burning to continue. It continued its journey up my back as my father spoke gentle reassurances to me and suddenly I realized that this was a battle between my love for him and my sudden hate for her.

I wasn't going to let this hate for her take over my entire life, or hurt my father in anyway. He had suffered enough and didn't need to be hit by this blue light. I began to breathe slowly and soon listened to only my father's voice and soon pushed my anger out of my mind. As I began to breathe normally, the burning began to descend down my back and eventually subsided as I collapsed into my father, drained and tiered.

I forced my eyes open and looked up at him, "It's gone," I whispered as he picked me up and placed me on the couch gently, touching my cheek.

"You did it, without denting a garbage can," he said with a smile that everyone fell in love with. It was so gentle and it just told you that everything was alright.

I laughed softly, "Yeah, I guess I did," I said as I closed my eyes with a sigh, "I hate her dad," I said simply, leaving my eyes closed so I wouldn't have to see the disappointed look that I knew would have fallen across his face.

"I know," he said, running his thumb across my cheek to wipe the tear streak that was still there, "just take it easy," he added as he stood and walked away, to the kitchen where I heard him bang around in the cupboards.

"Dad," I said, opening my eyes to look at the ceiling, which needed a new coat of pain, the white now a cheap yellow color, "can I still go to Zaven's birthday?" I asked lowly, not wanting to sound too childish, but not over excited either.

"When is it?" he asked.

"Tomorrow night," I replied, crossing my fingers as I bit my bottom lip nervously.

"Alex…" he said, closing a cupboard door, "…only if you take your cell phone and you promise to keep it on at all times," he said.

I smiled, knowing that my father had the hardest time to say no, but wouldn't hesitate to if he truly thought that it was dangerous.

"I promise," I said.

"And if it happens again, you call me!" he said sternly.

"I promise," I repeated.

I had fallen asleep right after supper and had only woken up the next day when I heard my father return from, I assumed, the Phoenix foundation. I rolled over, groaning slightly as my eyes caught sight of the alarm clock, 11:47am. I had to get up, and I kept telling my body that, but all it wanted to do was go back to bed. I fought it until noon and finally got up and drug my feet all the way down the hall to the bathroom with my clothes in arms as I went into the bathroom and closed the door.

I dropped the closed onto the back of the flush and started to run the water, pulling off my shirt as I waited for the water to get warm. I then pulled the shower curtain, got undressed the rest of the way and flipped the switch, making the water run up to the shower nozzle and out into the shower to run down the tub and down the drain.

I climbed in carefully and indulged in the warm water relaxing all my tense muscles and wetting my out of control morning hair. It was something that I usually didn't waist time doing, in and out, but this time, I just stood there for the longest time as the water poured down over my head and down the rest of m body, loving the way it felt against my body.

I would have been there all day, except a sudden jolt of cold water made me cry out in surprise and jump out of the way. I shivered as I crawled out and wrapped a towel around my body and shut off the water. I groaned as I sat down on the flush and began to dry myself off, pulling on a pair of dark blue low rise jeans, a red Winnie-the-Pooh tank top and a black jean jacket. I looked in the mirror and began to towel dry my shoulder length light brown hair, tossing the towel in the hamper once I was done and picked up the brush that sat on the vanity.

I passed it through my hair gently, it being at the length where it started to tangle but was still too short to hold onto to stop it from pulling. Once I had it brushed out I threw it up into a half ponytail, flipped and styled it before unlocking the bathroom door and walking down into the kitchen.

"Thanks for the wake up call," I said to my father, who was sipping on a glass of milk in the kitchen.

"Sorry Soldier," he said, putting the glass on the table, motioning out of the window to the driveway, "I was working on my bike and got my hand dirty." I never understood why he called me soldier and didn't know whether to take is a compliment or an insult at some times, but I assumed that it was because I was strong headed (a polite way of calling me stubborn), and because of some one the assignments I had gone on in the past couple of years with him. I had been shot at, drugged, kidnapped, blown up (almost anyway), and stabbed, so I guess I am like his soldier.

"That bike of yours," I said, grabbing a glass out of the cupboard and sitting it on the counter, "that thing wasn't run since we went on that trip," I added, grabbing the pitcher of orange juice and poured myself a glass, placing the empty jug in the sink and my now full glass on the table next to my father's hand.

"I'll get her running someday," he said. Mr. Fix-it that was my father alright, if it needed fixing my father wouldn't give up until he either fixed it or replaced it. I smiled softly as I grabbed a kiwi out of the fridge and closed the door gently. "So how are you feeling today?"

My smiled faded slightly; I just managed to add more fuel to the fire for my father. He was already worried about me, working for the Phoenix Foundation and all, and now he would be worried because of this too, "I feel fine, dad," I said and began to peal the skin off of my kiwi, throwing it in the garbage as I went, "I feel okay as long as I don't get upset and set it off."

"We'll work on finding a solution to this after a couple of days," he said cupping my cheek with a smile, "Zaven called a hour or so ago for you, wanted to see if you how you were feeling."

Great, another one! For Christ's sake, I'm going to have everyone worried sick about me by the end of this aren't I? "Thanks dad, I'll call her after," I replied, taking a bite of the kiwi, "I'm sure she'll be able to keep her head for a couple of minutes while I eat."

The minute the words left my mouth the sound of the phone ringing rang through the house, "Or not," I muttered, popping the rest of the kiwi in my mouth before I went to the end table in the living room and hit the speaker button on the phone, "MacGyver residence, Alexis speaking," I said once I swallowed the kiwi, almost chocking on it because I didn't take the time to chew.

"Hello there Alex," it was Pete's voice that came back over the line and I smiled, "how are you feeling this morning?" The smile faded as I shot my attention to my father and glared. He had told Pete? Damn it! Who doesn't know?

"Huh, she's fine Pete," my father called from the kitchen before I had a chance to reply, "Just a slight fever, nothing to worry about." I sighed in relief, dropping my glare. Pete must have called after I fell asleep last night and my father told him that I wasn't feeling well and had gone to bed early.

"That's great to hear," Pete replied, "Listen Mac, I got word from a guy by the name of Jason and he says that he's gone some information on that thing you wanted checked out." I brought my attention to my father, throwing him a 'you didn't' look.

"Alright Pete," he said, coming into the living room, "I'll be down soon to pick it up."

"Alright, see you then," he replied as my father hung up.

"Who's Jason?" I demanded.

"An old friend and I didn't tell him anything," he said before I could ask, "All I told him was that I wanted the information, not what for." I sighed as I went into the kitchen, grabbing my glass of orange juice.

"Alright," I said, not like I had a choice in the matter, "When are you going to the office?" I asked, coming in to the living room and sitting down, grabbing the remote and turned on the television.

"Soon," he replied, picking up his glass and downing the remainder of his drink, "I'll be back soon, so don't go to far and try not to get into any trouble," he added, grabbing his jacket as I swallowed the juice that I had put into my mouth.

"Yes, dad, I know," I said, turning the channel to one that I thought might had an interesting show on, "I'll be here when you get back," I added, taking another drink as I brought my attention to the television in front of my fully, turning up the volume as I heard my father open the door and walk out, closing it without sound.

I watched some television while I finished my juice and managed to get another kiwi in during a commercial break. It wasn't so bad now that the weight of lying to my father and hiding something so important from his was lifted from my chest and I could relax and be myself once again. I pulled my feet up onto the couch and got comfortable just as the phone rang.

I groaned in aggravation to the person's timing and leaned over to the end table, hitting the speaker button because it was closer than the receiver was, "MacGyver residence, Alexis speaking." People thought it strange the way I answered the phone, but when I was young and hit that age where answering the phone was cool, my father had taken a week to teach me how to be polite and nice while talking to the person who had called. I asked him what to say, and when 'Hello' didn't work because I would spit it out to fast and people would think they had the wrong number, he taught that line to slow me down and it kind of stuck.

"Hey there," this time it was Zaven, "How are you? Did you tell your dad everything? Are you grounded for life for lying? Was he…" I couldn't help but cut her off at this point, placing my glass, that was now filled with water instead of juice.

"Slow down," I said in a laugh, "I'm fine, yes I told him everything, No I'm not grounded, and no, he wasn't mad," I said, answering all of her asked questions before I let her continue, "Anything else?"

"Yeah, are you coming tonight or does you dad have you only total twenty-four hour watch?" she asked.

"Chill," I said, leaving my eyes on the television, "As long as I have my cell then its all T.U.C." I replied, and for your F.Y.I (for you information) T.U.C. stands for totally under control.

"That's totally wicked!" she replied, "So he's gonna have you on twenty-four hours cell call instead huh?"

"Yeah," I replied, grabbing my glass and taking a drink from it for a lack of something better to do with my hands at the time, "It's better than being in total lock down." Sometimes I couldn't believe how much my language style changed when I spoke to different people. With my father, I speak properly; with Pete, politely; and with my friends, my old English teach would have a total mental break down if he heard me—we didn't call him Dictionary Delong for nothing, the man was a total English robot.

"So, your dad's cool with the fact that you played him?" she asked.

"I didn't play him, playing is what Tony did to Jessica man," I replied. Tony and Jessica were the hottest couple in school, until Jessica found out that Tony had had more than one true love and was sleeping around on her. "I simply withheld the truth for fear of my life."

"Hide it for fear of your life? How did you pull that on off?" she asked, voice laughing.

I laughed, placing the glass back down, "It's T.B.S (not the television station; it stands for total bull shit) and I don't think he bought it but he did let it slide off of him like butter off of hot pancakes."

Zaven laughed, "Yeah, gotta love that," she said, "So I'll see you at 8:00 o'clock?"

"Totally girl, I wouldn't miss it for all the donuts in Hillman's diet." Zaven busted out laughing, Hillman being our old French teacher, and when I say the woman was big, I mean industrial huge and she always had a donut in her mouth, hand or on her desk—the woman had to have eaten millions of the things while I was in her class alone. God only knows how many more she devoured on her own time and during other classes.

"Alright then girl," she said, still laughing, "See you then."

"T.T.F.N. (Ta Ta for now)" I replied and hung up.

I continued to watch television, getting up every once in a while during commercials to fill my drink or get something to snack on. I watched television until it became apparent that there was nothing worth my time on, so I got up and placed a C.D. in the C.D. player, turned off the television and hit play on the stereo. I then began the dishes, turning the music up to a level that was much louder than I would have put it at had my father been in the house, but he wasn't, so I cranked it and began running the water.

I added the soap, and then the dirty dishes and began washing them as my song came on. I smiled to myself and began to sing the words, laughing when I messed up the words and accidentally splashed myself.

There wasn't that many to do up, and once they were placed in the rack, they only filled half of it so I decided to dry them as well, grabbing the cloth out of the cupboard under the sink. The couple of glasses and bowls went by fast enough, and I placed the cast iron frying pan on the stove and turned on the burner while I went to change the song that was playing. I turned it down a few notches at the same time and once I got back to the kitchen, the pan was dry so I turned off the burner and put it away. I dried the tray and rack and put them under the sink, then folded the cloth as my father came him, giving me that 'you are going to ruin your ears with the music so loud look', a look that I had received a lot.

He walked over and turned to down to what he called 'a dull roar'. "You'll be deaf by the time you're my age at that rate," he said as I closed the cupboard door with a smile.

"Then I have plenty of time to enjoy my hearing," I shot back, sticking my tong out at him playfully.

"You'll be my age someday," he said with a smile.

I shook my head, "Nope, you'll always be older than me!" I said with a smile, "So did you get the information you wanted?"

He nodded, pulling a yellow envelope out of his jacket and tossed it on the table, "I'll read up on it tonight," he said, "So what do you want for supper, Kiddo?"

I looked at my watch, "It's only 4:00 o'clock," I said, looking back up at him, "since when do we eat that early?" I asked, seeing him shrug.

"Just asking what you are in the mood for," he said, and I smiled, knowing that he didn't know what time it was when he asked and that he hadn't eaten before he left and was probably hungry.

"Anything you want sounds fine," I replied and turned off my C.D. as a song that I knew swore came on and I didn't feel like getting a lecture or a look, "It doesn't really matter to me," I added, heading for the couch and picked up the glass that I had left there.

It never ceased to amaze me how much me and my father got along. The thought of moving out never crossed my mind like it did for most other teenagers my age. Most of them rang out of their homes and didn't look back after graduation, while I got a job working with my father and still lived home. Call it what you want, attacked, babied, spoiled, but I like it this way; the MacGyver's together and still strong, or Team MacGyver as Pete called us.

"How's fish sound?" he asked and I turned and looked at him with a disgusted looked on my face. He knew that I hated fish with a passion, and I knew that he was joking when he stuck his tong out at me.

"Sounds great," I muttered sarcastically with a smile.