One Hour Earlier

Mathilda and MacGyver had searched for the alleged bomb for a half hour. Police had arrived, and they had passed them a couple times as they searched. There were only three floors left to clear.

"Maybe this isn't the right bank," Mathilda said. Again.

"I told you to go down to the command center or to one of the other banks," he replied. Again.

She glared at his back. "You do know I'm your boss, right?"

He stopped and turned to her. She hated that smile - he was about to throw out a zinger.

"Not right now. This isn't even an official assignment. Which means I can ignore you." And he started walking again.

She wanted to be angry with him for saying that, but it was true. Which is why she followed in silence. He stopped at an office door and opened the door. When the two entered, the lights automatically came on. The two stared at the room.

The two couches, chairs, even the plants gave the office the feeling of a stark Russian-influenced industrial design. At the center was a large desk made from concrete and steel.

"This office is awful!" Mathilda commented.

He shrugged. "It has its merits."

"Like?"

"No one has to wonder if the person in here is being serious. Or trying to compensate for something."

She chuckled a little.

They left to continue their search. The rest of the offices were locked. The hall had brought them back to one last door before returning them to the stairs. MacGyver opened the door and stepped into a dark room. He patted his hand around the wall until he found a light switch to flick, and the room lit up. It was a janitor closet like the others they'd seen, packed with various cleaning tools and chemicals.

MacGyver flipped off the light switch and stepped back to close the door. Mathilda stepped out of his way and started to speak.

Suddenly MacGyver rushed back into the room, switching the light back on. She watched him toss a mop bucket out of his way, drop to a knee, and shove bottles off the second shelf. She could see what had caught his eye. A black box with silver hinges pushed to the back; something very out of place for a janitor closet. Gingerly, he reached in and pulled the container out. He set it down on a nearby cardboard box with the clasps facing out.

"Is that… it?" she asked.

"We'll see," he quietly answered.

He unfastened the latches very slowly and delicately lifted the lid slightly, peeking through the opening. Then, he lowered the top and began looking around.

"What do you need?'

"A flashlight or something to see inside."

She looked around the room. On a shelf above her head, she spotted a flashlight. She walked in and started climbing the shelf frame to grab it. MacGyver saw it too and snatched it. Mathilda dropped back to the floor, watching him work.

MacGyver slowly opened the lid. Under Plexiglas were the intricate makings of a bomb. The digital timer affixed to the Plexiglas was counting down from twelve minutes.

"I don't know what they put in those canisters, but the top is rigged to explode if the seal is broken. Matty, you have to go get the bomb squad," MacGyver quietly ordered. His attention hadn't left the bomb. He used the flashlight to look at the internal structure from every angle.

"I thought you were the bomb squad!"

"I only have my knife and whatever I can find in here." He motioned around the janitor closet. "They have the right tools. Go get them, Matty."

"Don't do anything brave while I'm gone," she told him.

"When have I ever done that with a bomb?"

She shot a knowing look at his back, then hurried out. Mathilda ran to the elevator and tapped the call button. Then she remembered the firefighters had put the elevator on emergency. It would only move if a key was inserted.

She ran to the stairs and started down. On the second landing, she stopped, suddenly realizing what had just happened. There was no way she'd make down, and the bomb squad would make it back up in twelve, no - now eleven, minutes. He had tried to trick her into going to safety in case he couldn't disarm the bomb. She was not going to allow that to happen.

She pulled out her cell phone and called the command center, then ran back up the stairs. She reported where they'd found the bomb. Arriving back at the closet, she found MacGyver had managed to take the Plexiglass top off to carefully examine the wires.

He looked up, and his face registered surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I am not leaving you alone with this." She pointed at the bomb.

"I need you to leave, Matty. I can't focus on—"

"Not. Leaving."

He turned back to studying it again. "You're being stubborn," MacGyver told her.

"Damn straight!"

He gave her a quick glare. She shrugged one shoulder.

The two fell silent as he worked. The lump in Mathilda's stomach grew with every minute disappearing on the timer. At nine minutes, Mathilda's phone rang. She pulled her phone from her clutch, tapping the answer button.

Simultaneously she heard MacGyver yell a phrase she'd never heard him say. "OH SHIT!"

He ran spun into a run, grabbing her arm as he sprinted out of the room.

"What? What's happening?" she asked.

"The phone call triggered something in the bomb! We have one minute to find cover!"

He led her into the office with the cement and metal desk. Coming around the desk, they were hit with a surprise. The seating area under the desk wasn't much broader than the ball chair sitting in front of it. What made it large were the two sets of file drawers on either side of the sitting space.

Neither said it, but they bought thought, 'We found the only desk in this building that is built for a little person!'

MacGyver yanked the chair out of the way as he let Mathilda's arm go. "Get under there."

He ran over to one of the heavier chairs and drug it toward the desk. She obeyed. When Mathilda looked up, she saw MacGyver was pushing the chair to block her in. She moved fast to get out.

"What are you doing?!" he yelled. "Get back under there!"

"Not until you do," Mathilda argued.

"There is not enough room for us both. Get under there."

"No. You get under there."

"You are small enough to fit under there and be completely protected. Get under there!"

"Oh. So, because I'm a little person, I should be the one under the desk?"

"I am really sorry for this, Matty." And MacGyver punched her in the face.

She fell back. Too dazed, she didn't fight MacGyver picking her up and dropping her under the desk. She watched him wedge the chair under the desk in front of her. Then the world roared as a bomb ripped apart the eleventh floor of 464 California Street.