One Week After Rescue
Back in L.A.

MacGyver heard someone walk past with brisk steps and a soft woosh-woosh. People were talking somewhere, their voices quiet but not in a private way. The way people speak when they don't want to wake someone. He started to breathe in deep but slowed the breath when a sharp pain stabbed him in the back.

He could now hear the steady beep of a heart monitor, then it was gone. MacGyver turned his head, and light brightened the darkness behind his eyes. Slowly he opened his eyes. Outside the window he faced, the world was bright and sunny. For an untold amount of time, he stared at the clouds drifting through the bright blue sky. That sky had no hint anything terrible had happened, or bomb had exploded. But he didn't have to look around him to know he was in a hospital following a horrific bomb explosion. Memories began squirming back into his brain as it slowly pieced together everything from the banquet to now.

His eyes drifted down to a recliner in the corner. He smiled when he saw Mathilda asleep in the recliner. He wasn't even surprised she was there. MacGyver looked back outside, slowly inhaling and exhaling, followed by a yawn. His stomach growled, and he started debating if he should call a nurse to ask if he could eat anything.

The debate was interrupted by a small hand sliding into his. He looked down and exchanged smiles with Mathilda.

"Hey," she said.

She looked in as rough shape as he felt. "Hey," he responded. "You look like you've been in a fight."

She laughed at his joke. "You should see the other gal."

He smiled. He almost smiled but caught himself before he made the hole in his back hurt. "Did the guys get caught? Did we even know who did it?"

She looked sly. "It was a group of five, and yes, they have been caught and are in jail."

"Tell me."

"In a minute. Really. How are you feeling? Do you need a nurse? Are you in pain?"

He slowly nodded. "I'm feeling okay. I don't need a nurse. Yes, I'm in pain, but it's tolerable. It hurts when I take a deep breath still. How far was that rod in?"

She shook her head with a smile. "Less than two inches."

"Two inches?" he repeated incredulously.

She nodded.

"I could have moved and been fine?"

"Yes, and no. Your doctor was glad we didn't move you because you do have a broken foot." She motioned down the bed. "Trying to walk on it would have made it worse. You weren't exactly in a spot you could just scooch over from the rod, either. It was better to leave you where you were, he told me."

He looked down at his right leg that was in a cast. "Never broke my foot before. That's different."

"You have never broken—" Mathilda began, and they finished together. "Your foot before?" She stared for a moment and then asked, "How many other bones have you broken?"

"Ribs, the left arm, right hand, both legs a couple times."

"And never your foot?" she asked, sounding a little sarcastic.

"Nope."

"Oh. New experiences for you all the time, I guess."

MacGyver grinned and nodded.

"Well, you'll be happy to know that you will forever be setting off TSA checks and probably subjected to individual searches now because of your first foot break. They had to use pins to set some of the bones. You also sprang your right wrist and fingers and bruised your forearm to the bone – the doctor thinks you must have tried to catch yourself when the blast threw you. You were in a medical induced coma for five days because the goose egg had swollen so much, and your doctor was worried there was a hematoma or worse. But the swelling has gone down a lot, and the last MRI didn't show any damage to your skull or brain." She looked down, a look of shame on her face as she finished. "Other than that, you just have scrapes and bruises. You'll be back home in another couple of days."

"Matty, you sure know how to show a guy a good time."

"I almost got you killed. Hardly a good time."

"You know what the best part of the bomb exploding was?"

"There's a best part?" Her face reflected how ridiculous that sounded.

"Yeah." He smiled. "I got to know you a little more. You're pretty cool, Matty."

"You think your boss is cool?"

"I do."

She laughed. "Well, I think my agent is pretty cool himself."

He gave her hand a squeeze. "And you're not still mad at me about the whole 'you're smaller' comment?"

She shook her head. "I haven't been mad about that since I came to under that desk. It was stupid baggage. And it nearly got you killed."

"Yeah."

"But did you have to punch me?"

He shrugged a little. "You were being stubborn. I had no choice."

She jerked her hand back. "I take back the cool statement about you." Then she smiled.

"I am kind of chilly. Could you get me a warm blanket?"

"You are on your own. You just hobble down to the nurse's station yourself."

He quietly chuckled, ignoring the little pain it caused. "Where is everyone else? I kind of expected them here, too."

"I had to send them on a mission."

He nodded, understanding. "Catch me up. Who were these bank robbers? Why did they do this? Tell me about how you guys caught them."

She pulled a chair up and wriggled onto it, then began her story of how the family found five nameless men who had tried to kill two of them.