All In The Past - Part Three:


MacGyver made breakfast, dressed in his sweatshirt and pants, whilst Terry showered, hopefully taking his advice to use the hot steamy water to loosen her shoulder up, assuming it needed any further exercise. When she emerged, clean and dressed, her hair still damp, Mac handed her an aspirin and a glass of water, then swapped the remainder for a glass of milk.


"I fed Roadie. There's some protein shake and bran muffins for breakfast, help yourself. I'm heading for the shower." He paused long enough to place a kiss on her damp head, then took the spiral stairs two at a time.


Terry watched him go, smiling to herself when she heard him whistling happily as he moved about upstairs. She took the glass of milk and walked over to look through the French doors. Roadie followed by her side as she opened up the doors and stepped out into the fresh air, leaning against the rail and breathing deeply as she gazed at the early morning mist rising on the ocean.


Finishing the glass of milk, Terry took it back inside, surprised that Roadie didn't follow her. Instead the dog pricked up his ears and turned in the direction of the city. Terry walked back towards the open door just in time to hear Roadie bark once and then take off around the side of the houseboat. When she got to the corner he was already bounding up the boardwalk towards the marina entrance.


"Roadie, come back! Roadie!" Without a second thought, Terry took off after the dog, sprinting down the wooden boardwalk, and desperately trying to keep him in sight.


Upstairs in the loft, MacGyver was just pulling a T-shirt over his head when he heard Terry's shout. He moved to the window in time to see her disappear along the boardwalk.


"Terry!" he yelled futilely through the glass, banging on the closed window, but she didn't look back and in the distance he could see Roadie bounding up the ramp from the marina and across the parking lot.


"Aw man!" MacGyver leaned his palm against the glass, his fingers clenched, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Then he grabbed his sneakers and pulled them onto his bare feet, tying the laces as quickly as he could. He was still buttoning up his jeans as he ran down the stairs and out onto the wooden boardwalk.


In the parking lot there was no sign of either Terry or the dog. Then, Mac heard a faint call of Roadie's name and tried to follow it, running across the street and down a back alley in the direction he thought the shout had come from. He wondered what could have caused the dog to run off like that. Roadie was so doting to Terry, probably as loyal as to his master.


"David!" MacGyver muttered in realisation, increasing his speed as hard as he could and guessing on the destination of woman and dog. Praying he would get there in time.


~~~~~~~~~~


Terry halted, gasping for breath and calling again. But she had lost him this time, there was no sign of Roadie, nor his answering bark to her shout. She looked around, recognising her surroundings when she tried to figure out where she was.


She was only two blocks away from home, David's house. She had walked Roadie along this street plenty of times. That had to be where the dog was heading. Maybe David had come back. She started running again, spurred on by the thought, heading quickly towards her brother's house.


She reached the corner and turned into his street, shocked by the scene fifty yards away. Her mind reeled, stunned into paralysis when she heard a shot ring out.


She recognised five of the men immediately. Two bulky men, the blond one of which she knew had foul breath and a penchant for beating women. Another was tall, thin and always alert. And the fourth man, shorter, more intelligent looking, whom Terry had decided was the leader. All four men were similarly dressed in suits, their jackets hanging open for easy access to the holstered weapons Terry knew from experience were secreted about their person.


They were the four mercenaries who had trapped and beaten her in David's home and now they held her brother between them. He was struggling and kicking in their grasp, yelling for all he was worth, until one of the men laid a heavy hand upside his face and knocked him senseless.


They had reached a black four door sedan, presumably their getaway car, when the shot rang out from a sixth man, a solitary gunman leaning across the hood of a tan Chevy on the opposite side of the street. He aimed and fired again and the tall lanky member of the gang broke off from the group to return fire just as Roadie joined the fray, jumping at the three men still holding his sagging master between them.


The blond thug kicked out at the dog as they bundled David into their vehicle and Terry finally reacted, crying out in despair, a helpless distant bystander to the kidnapping of her brother.


Roadie reeled away, limping and yelping from the brutal kick, and Terry spun around seeking anything that would serve as a weapon. In the gutter nearby was a discarded tyre iron and she bent down, wrapping the fingers of her good arm round it tightly and crouching low as she ran towards the vehicle parked closest to the men.


Terry peered out from behind the van. David was already inside the car along with two of his four assailants. The third, whose stale breath she remembered all too vividly, was rounding the vehicle to get in the opposite side, halting to lay down cover fire in the direction of the gunman across the street, enabling the fourth gang member to retreat safely.


With them all distracted, Terry hefted the tyre iron and ran from behind the van just in time to see her target take more careful aim as his partner continued to randomly shower the Chevy with 9mm bullets. The tall man nearest Terry shot a single round and the return fire suddenly stopped ominously.


Terry glanced across in time to see the lone gunman slide backwards off the hood of his car. She gasped in shock, losing a vital second in her swing. Her target spotted her, turning towards her just in time to duck. Instead the tyre iron caught his outstretched wrist, knocking the gun from his hand. He swore loudly, his initial surprise giving way to a smile of recognition as he realised the one witness to their existence had just played right into his hands.


The blond mercenary yelled at him, recognising the bruised face of the female who had seemingly come out of nowhere. A malevolent smile creased his ugly features, "Come on! Grab the girl, we gotta go!" Then he jumped into the back of the sedan as the driver revved the engine.


Sirens began to sound in the distance, a persistent wailing growing closer and closer. The fourth gang member wrenched the tyre iron away from Terry's one handed grasp and swept her up in his arms before she could react. Then he turned to run for the vehicle.


Terry screamed, lashing out and kicking, struggling for her life as the tall man attempted to carry her to the car. Roadie heard her shriek and it drew him back out of the hiding place he had retreated to. He limped across to her rescue, grabbing onto one of the thug's skinny legs with his teeth, trying to halt the man's escape to the waiting sedan.


Terry had to assume that the solitary mystery gunman was one of the good guys, even though she had no idea who he was or where he had come from. But somehow he now dragged himself back up to lean against his car, a crimson stain spreading on his jacket around his left shoulder. He aimed and cursed, unable to fire for fear of hitting the woman or the dog. Instead, he targeted the tyres of the getaway vehicle.


The mercenary holding Terry cursed when he heard the shots and saw the chips of tarmac coming up off the road beside the rear tyre of the car now containing the other three members of his team along with their prime target. Remembering his priorities, he glanced around for his 9mm. He flung Terry to the ground, her head hitting the sidewalk hard enough to stun her, then he made a grab for the weapon, shaking the dog off as best he could.


Terry lay dazed on the ground, trying to focus her blurring vision on her assailant. She saw him retrieve the semiautomatic, then roll across the ground to duck gunfire. He came up on one knee, aimed and swiftly fired. The air filled with silence except for the persistent sound of wailing sirens still too far off to be of help.


The tall mercenary whirled around searching for any visible sign of the approaching police cars just as MacGyver appeared around the same corner Terry had come from.


Before Mac had a chance to take in the scene, the fourth gang member spotted his arrival, and turned to fire his weapon. Still sprawled on the sidewalk, Terry watched everything as if in slow motion, screaming a warning to MacGyver just as Roadie leapt up to dislodge the gun from the mercenary's hand. It landed between the tall man and Terry and they both dived for it, Terry now acting on survival instinct alone.


MacGyver ducked low, away from the wildly aimed bullet, running from vehicle to vehicle to get closer under cover. But he was unable to help Terry in those vital few seconds before he could get near enough.


He saw her lunge for the handgun just a few feet from her. Reaching it first, she wrapped her fingers around it and rolled away, scrambling to her hands and knees to get out of reach. The tall man grabbed her ankle and pulled it out from under her. Terry fell sideways onto her wrenched shoulder, crying out in pain and desperation as her assailant rose to his feet and reached down to recapture his victim.


With no options left and no time to wonder where MacGyver had disappeared to, Terry raised the semiautomatic, still gripped in her right hand, and slid a finger around the trigger. Her hand shook violently as she fired the weapon, but at point blank range she couldn't fail to hit the target, shooting the tall man in the foot.


He shrieked in surprise, hopping onto his good leg just as MacGyver reappeared into Terry's limited view, atop the nearby van. Mac dived off and hit the mercenary from behind, knocking him over and rolling with him on the ground.


The rest of the gang seemed about to come and help their fallen comrade now that the odds were against him, when the first flashing blue light appeared around the corner. Instead, the driver had no choice but to floor it, and the vehicle squealed away, burning rubber in its wake.


Mac threw a solid punch at the prone man, connecting with his jaw and knocking him senseless. He released his clenched fist and shook his fingers in pain, wondering when he'd ever learn, then he whirled round to check on Terry.


Roadie reached her first. She had dropped the handgun and was lying back on the sidewalk, her head throbbing and her whole body shaking like a leaf. As the adrenalin rush ebbed away, tears came with the realisation of what had just occurred and the growing dread as to what would happen to her brother now. She covered her eyes with a shaking hand, trying to swallow a sob, and she felt Roadie's warm pink tongue licking the salty tears away from her cheek.


MacGyver knelt down beside her, gasping her name in relief as he scooped her gently into his arms, "Terry! God, are you all right?"


Finding it agony just to move her left arm now, Terry could only use her right, clinging to Mac as she trembled, his soft caring words in her ear simply inducing convulsive sobs that began as she sank against him limply.


"It's okay, it's over. You're safe now."


She shuddered against his chest, the shock setting in, and MacGyver held her tightly, barely aware of the police car pulling up nearby.


"They took David!" Terry managed between gulping sobs. "And they killed a man. I don't even know who he was!"


"He was a Phoenix agent," Mac explained bitterly. "Pete sent him to keep an eye out in case your brother or the four guys who attacked you returned."


"And now he's dead!" Terry cried despairingly, giving into another wave of sobs.


MacGyver lifted one hand to delve in his jeans pocket and pull out his Phoenix ID to show the two approaching policemen. He provided a few brief details as he tried to comfort Terry, enough for them to call the paramedics, contact Pete Thornton and retrieve the 9mm semiautomatic and its barely conscious owner who had killed the Phoenix agent.


By the time Pete arrived, Terry was sitting in the back of an open ambulance having a head wound treated and being checked over. Roadie was at her side, no worse for his adventure except for some bruised ribs where he'd been kicked.


Terry had some scrapes on her hands and some new bruises, but the cut on the back of her head where she had hit the sidewalk was minor, she wouldn't need stitches. She had not lost consciousness, so apart from mild concussion and a major headache she was fine. Her left shoulder was worse off, with probable torn ligaments where she had fallen on the already weakened musculature. The paramedics strapped it up securely to immobilise her arm until she could be checked over at the hospital.


When MacGyver and Pete Thornton attempted to explain to the police the presence of four mercenaries kidnapping Dr David Fleming they were forced to admit that they had photokit pictures back at Phoenix headquarters to identify them all, including the one now in custody.


"How did you come by this information?" the police sergeant asked suspiciously.


Pete and Mac looked at each other awkwardly, neither wanting to implicate Terry without her consent.


"I identified them," Terry's soft voice came from behind MacGyver and they all turned to see her approaching, her arm bound up in a sling and Roadie walking protectively by her side as close as he could get without tripping her up.


"And how did you know who they were, Miss errr......," the policeman asked, taking notes on a small pad with a tiny stub of pencil.


"Wightman, Teresa Wightman," Terry said, taking a deep breath before continuing, "David Fleming is my brother. The same four men came to David's house looking for him. They threatened his life if I talked to the police, so I went to Phoenix for help."


"Is that how you got the um......," the sergeant indicated her black eye and bruised cheekbone. Terry nodded, lowering her eyes, and MacGyver placed his arm around her waist, drawing her to him protectively.


"The medical officer at the Phoenix Foundation has done a full report of Miss Wightman's injuries from the attack," Pete informed the policeman, "We can provide you a copy, with her consent." They all looked at Terry and she nodded, grimacing and returning her gaze to the ground.


"Good," Sergeant Wisley said, "We'll need it to help prosecute the case against this man. But with Miss Wightman as witness to the kidnapping and murder, this should be an open and shut case for a change."


Terry went even paler at the thought of standing up in court and retelling what she had seen, and MacGyver felt her cling to him tightly. She opened her mouth to ask the burning question, but nothing came out. Mac asked instead, "What about the other three men and Dr Fleming?"


"Well, we've put out an APB on the black four door sedan from the description you gave us. Maybe we can get some information on their location from the man they left behind." The sergeant closed his notebook and replaced it in his top pocket along with his pencil. "We'll need Miss Wightman to come downtown for a full statement when she's up to it, and I don't think I need to tell you to watch your backs."


MacGyver nodded and the sergeant moved away, signalling Pete to follow him. "Can your people protect her?" he asked, when they were out of Terry's earshot. "When those three hear we've got their pal locked up, they'll know who the witness is. They might come after her."


"Yeah, I know. We'll put her in a safehouse for now. Don't worry, we'll protect her," Pete assured him, glancing over to see the way Terry and MacGyver were holding onto each other. "We're not going to let anything happen to her," he smiled knowingly.


~~~~~~~~~~


Leaving Pete to look after Roadie, MacGyver went with Terry to the hospital to get her left shoulder checked out. It took several hours of waiting to be seen by the busy doctors who were rushed off their feet with more critical cases.


Terry was edgy and nervous throughout, not surprising considering what she had been through that morning. Several times Mac accompanied her outside when she needed some fresh air, understanding that the sight of accident victims and multiple other injuries would be stomach churning enough, even without the thoughts that must have been going through her mind about her missing brother.


Finally the x-rays came back and Terry was discharged with little more than the same instructions the paramedic had supplied. Torn ligaments, keep it strapped up and rest it for a few days. Here's some painkillers.


It was mid afternoon before they got back to Phoenix headquarters. By that time Pete had arranged a safehouse for them and a secure mode of transport inside a mail van, one of a fleet of vehicles frequently seen coming and going from the building. Two backup teams would guard outside the house, at least for a couple of days until things died down a bit or something broke.


The Director of Operations had also retrieved items of clothing from both MacGyver's houseboat, now locked up securely after Mac had abandoned it with all doors open that morning, and from Terry's bedroom in her brother's house. The agent sent along there had even thought to retrieve Roadie's squeaky toy from the kitchen floor where it had been left two nights before.


From Terry's point of view, Pete could not have chosen a more suitable safehouse. The rooms were large and airy and the backyard was the ocean. The house stood on a promontory overlooking the Pacific. Its position high on a cliff was impenetrable from three sides except by helicopter and the fourth side was covered by the Phoenix agents Pete had assigned as protection.


For them, it was an important job to protect the lone witness to the murder of one of their own. There was no question they would remain vigilant, no matter how long it took to either capture the three remaining members of the group or to take the case to trial.


For Terry's sake, MacGyver hoped for the former. The sooner they found her brother the better. He just wished there was more to go on, something that would give some clue as to David's whereabouts and the reason for his abduction.


Leaving Terry outside sitting on a wooden bench breathing the sea air and gazing at the expansive view, MacGyver ducked inside to make a phone call, watching her from where he was perched on the arm of a chair as he dialled the number for Pete's secure line.


"Pete, it's me," Mac paused to listen to his response, "Yeah, the house is perfect thanks. It's all quiet here. Look, I was thinking. Do we know how long David was in the house this morning?"


"Yes, Agent Franklin called in for backup about ten minutes before the 911 call was made to the police," Pete responded. "Apparently, he saw Dr Fleming arrive, but couldn't safely leave his post without backup."


"Who called the police?"


"Someone from the next block," Pete explained, "They heard the gunfire, but couldn't see anything."


"Has anyone tried to figure out what David was doing inside the house?" Mac asked.


"No it didn't occur to me to check," Pete admitted. Realising the possible importance of such information, he added, "I'll send someone round to see if anything's been disturbed or whether he left any clues."


"His study was already a mess where they must have searched it the other night," Mac explained. "But get someone to check whether he accessed any of his computer files recently. And check the phone records. See whether he used his modem or telephone, maybe that will tell us something."


"Sure thing, Mac," Pete agreed, "I'll contact you if we turn up anything. How's Terry?"


"Still pretty shaken up, but this is a great place, Pete, thanks," MacGyver said gratefully. "If anything will help her calm down a bit after what happened, it'll be that view!" he added. "Call me if you hear anything."


MacGyver replaced the receiver and sat back, turning to look outside to where Terry was sitting. Her left arm strapped up in a sling, she was using her free hand to play with Roadie, throwing his squeaky toy to fetch and looking more relaxed than she had done for hours.


He watched the pair thoughtfully, something still nagging in the back of his mind. There were so many unanswered questions in Terry's past. Like what had happened to David's father? Or for what reason did David detest everything these mercenaries stood for, apart from the obvious natural dislike by any person with decent morals? And what had happened to Terry's parents when she was eleven years old?


MacGyver recalled telling Pete that if Terry wouldn't reveal what had happened, that meant she didn't completely trust him. It was a thought that hurt deeply and Mac wanted to ask her outright, but he was afraid it might just confirm that she truly didn't trust him enough to reveal anything of her past to him.


Before he had a chance to act either way, the phone he was still sitting beside rang. "Mac, it's Pete again."


"Yeah Pete," Mac answered, surprised at hearing from him so quickly.


"I finally heard back from one of my contacts in the DXS. They just heard what happened this morning, but they still would not confirm that David Fleming was working for them."


"Great!" MacGyver exclaimed in disgust.


"But they wouldn't deny it either!" Pete said almost gleefully, "So......."


Mac interrupted, catching on quickly, "So reading between the lines......."


"Dr Fleming was working for the DXS!" Pete concluded.


"Question is......."


"What was he doing there!" Pete finished the sentence for him.


"Time to call in a few markers?" MacGyver suggested.


"Yep! I'm on it Mac."


With that Pete hung up, leaving MacGyver with more food for thought and a way to begin that conversation he really needed to have with Terry.


Replacing the receiver once again, Mac blew out his cheeks and steeled himself, before heading outside into the evening sunlight. It was beginning to get chilly after the warm fall day and the sun was already setting.


Terry looked up, smiling as he approached, but her eyes were filled with worried questions. "Any news?"


"Not much," MacGyver sat down at the opposite end of the wooden bench at an angle to study her. "We believe David was definitely working for the DXS." Terry frowned uncomprehendingly until Mac explained, "It's a covert government operation. A bit like the CIA, only more secretive."


He inhaled deeply, "Terry, it's important you tell me everything you know about David's past. Any possible reason he might have to get involved with such an organisation. What makes him tick. What his motivations are. Anything that might help."


Terry studied him for a long while, gazing at him with searching eyes that felt like they could bore right down to his soul. MacGyver could see her weighing things up, trying to come to a decision about something. He remained silent, passively watching, resisting the urge to reach out to her, not wishing to apply undue pressure on such an important decision. One that could be a crossroads for them both.


Finally, she took a deep breath and spoke quietly, "David is one of those rare people whose principles and morals were shaped at a young age and have never wavered. Most everything he does as an adult stems from something that happened before I was even born." Terry looked up at Mac, as though checking she was doing the right thing before she continued.


"David's father, Edward, was Hungarian. Mom met him in Budapest in 1950, she was a concert pianist touring the Eastern bloc on some kind of exchange. They fell in love, got married and moved to the States, where David was born."


"In September 1956, when David was three, they received word that Edward's mother was ill. She was the only other family he had left. Mom was pregnant at the time, so she and David stayed home and Edward went to Budapest. He wrote every day, David still has the letters, the most extraordinary loving and poetic words I've ever read."


Terry stared out at the ocean, golden in the setting sun, a hint of a smile on her lips as she recalled the feelings evoked by reading those letters. Her face fell into a frown when she considered what had followed. Turning to look at Mac, she said, "You know your history, you can probably figure out the rest."


"Tell me anyway," Mac urged gently, preferring to hear the rest of the tale from Terry.


She shrugged, still reluctant, but continuing all the same, "Edward's mother was dying, he was going to stay as long as needed. At the end of October, the Hungarian people rose up against Communist rule and the letters stopped. No mail was getting out of the country and refugees were fleeing across the Austrian border, but Mom knew Edward wouldn't leave his own mother, so all she could do was wait."


"Finally in November, Mom received word that Edward was okay, but his mother had died and he was staying to make the necessary arrangements to have her buried on the family plot. Apparently, her parents and grandparents were there, everyone except Edward's father, who was English. He had been killed over Germany or somewhere during the Second World War."


MacGyver listened, enthralled by the complex tale Terry wove of a family history before she was even born. He watched her, studying the emotions on her face and the distant look in her eyes as she carefully recalled the events in order until she reached the crux of the matter.


"The last letter sent by Edward told of the funeral, the end of his mother's family name, a circle completed. He talked of his hope for a baby girl that they might name her after his mother. Then he talked of his hopes for his country. The Soviets had agreed to meet with the Hungarian government to discuss withdrawal of troops. He hoped his country could be restored to a democracy."


Terry's voice slowly faded, becoming so quiet that her last words were barely a whisper. "Before he began his journey home, Edward was going to wait outside the government buildings to be one of the first to hear the good news."


Terry was right, MacGyver knew his history, particularly what had occurred in Budapest, a capital city he'd had some uncomfortably close calls in himself. The Soviets had double-crossed the Hungarian leaders. The peace talks were simply a ruse. They had captured the government and violently stamped out the anti-communist uprising using tanks and troops. MacGyver knew what Terry was about to say, but it still pained him to hear of such ruthless injustice, especially when it directly effected someone so close.


"Mom never heard from Edward again," she said softly. "Three weeks later they finally finished identifying the bodies. By the time she was informed, he had already been buried in a mass grave. She couldn't even bury her own husband."


Terry paused, suppressing haunting images of her mother before she added in a dull tone, "It must have been the stress that caused it. My mother went into premature labour. She lost the baby, hers and Edward's. It was a tiny baby girl, but it was just too early, it couldn't survive."


Terry's eyes shone and Mac noticed the way her voice changed when she talked about her mother. "I always wondered how she could be so strong, but Mom seemed to have this eternal source of strength within her. Maybe it came from being an orphan, growing up without family support," she trailed off and MacGyver could tell she was thinking about her brother again.


Finally, she took a deep breath and finished the story, "Mom named the baby after Edward's mother, just as he'd hoped. She arranged for a christening by the hospital chaplain as soon as the doctor told her the baby wouldn't survive the night. I think the funeral for their baby girl was Mom's way of laying Edward to rest as well. But she always honoured his memory even after she remarried and had me. My mother became quite a campaigner for freedom of rights. She was in her element in the Sixties. I think I learned how to march before I could walk!" Terry smiled at the memory, a sad smile, a mixture of proudness and loss.


"Well it explains why David hates everything these mercenaries stand for," MacGyver said quietly, wondering why he had doubted her.


Terry nodded, stifling a yawn in the growing darkness. "David pretty much picked up where Mom left off, in his own way. He's never had the time to march, but he writes letters, dozens of them, campaigning and petitioning on human rights issues. He always says he doesn't want to be recognised, he just wants to be heard. That even if he can only help make one person's life better it will be worth all the work."


"I'd like to meet him," Mac murmured admiringly.


"I think you'd like him." Terry shivered slightly as a breeze blew across the promontory and MacGyver took it as his excuse to take her into his arms, an urge he had resisted thus far.


He slid across the seat and gently wrapped Terry in his embrace, careful of her left side, holding her close to warm her. "How's the shoulder?" he asked.


"It's fine, so long as I don't move it," Terry said, fighting another yawn. Mac scooted back into the corner of the bench and pulled Terry down with him. She rested her head against his chest, appreciating his warmth and comfort and unable to resist closing her eyes.


"Still doesn't explain what David is doing working for the DXS," Mac muttered in a puzzled voice. From what he had just heard, it seemed like the last group Dr Fleming would choose to be employed by.


"Huh?" Terry murmured, forcing her eyes open in a questioning look.


"Never mind," MacGyver replied, watching her eyes slowly close again as she drifted off to sleep, feeling safe and secure in his arms. Mac tilted his head down to kiss her brow, his hands playing in her hair, gently stroking the soft strands. Roadie made a sighing noise from his seat beside the bench and MacGyver smiled, realising he was the only one still awake.


But he couldn't relax, there were too many nagging questions gnawing away at him. The main one being where was David? He couldn't help wonder what the DXS were up to and whether they were attempting to track David down. And why they wouldn't let him or Pete in on their plans. They had always maintained a passable working relationship until now, despite everything that had gone wrong in the past.


MacGyver pondered it all, staring out at the ocean as it slowly merged with the horizon, the daylight fading into night and the colours of sky and sea melding into one. As night overtook day, the air grew colder until Mac felt Terry's body begin to chill. Slowly and gently, he eased them upright and lifted her in his arms, swinging his legs off the seat to stand up and carry her inside. She moaned softly in her sleep and Roadie awoke vigilantly. Seeing their movement, he quietly followed, his paws making soft padding noises on the parquet flooring of the living room.


Mac carried Terry into one of the two large double bedrooms of the single-storey home and gently laid her on the bed. He eased her boots from her feet and pulled off her jeans, careful of her bruised hip, the painful marks beginning to turn blackish brown.


When he pulled back the covers and slid her into bed, Terry stirred, stretching deliciously. She blinked her eyes open in the darkness and watched him for a moment until he turned away towards the door. "Where are you going?" she asked softly, surprising him with her voice.


Mac winced, "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." He turned to face her, "I was just going to lock up."


Terry raised her hand and held it outstretched towards him. "Roadie can do that!" she teased. "Why don't you stay here."


He smiled at her, "I won't be long."


"I'll be waiting," Terry said in a voice of such mock seduction that she promptly burst out laughing, "Never was much of a femme fatale," she giggled.


MacGyver grinned, loving the sound of her laughter after such an horrendous day. He lifted her hand from its resting place on the blanket and kissed it chivalrously, "Fair maiden, I'll be back in a thrice!"


"Is that faster than a trice?" Terry asked, all sweetness and innocence.


Mac paused as he lowered her hand, giving her a dubious look, then he cocked an eyebrow, "I'll only be as fast as you wish, m'lady. Every time!" With that, he grinned salaciously and disappeared out of the bedroom, checking the house was secure as quickly as he could.


~~~~~~~~~~


MacGyver didn't know he was dreaming until it suddenly switched on him. He couldn't help feeling relieved at the discovery, but it was also utterly confusing. One instant he was in a familiar nightmare scene, the fatal car accident that took away his father and grandmother. The next instant he was drowning, his face wet, sinking deeper in the water as he fought to break back to the surface.


His hand reached air, was grasped and pulled by an unseen force. As his head bobbed back up, he shook water from his eyes and opened them to find himself captured by the stunning green brown gaze of the woman trying to save him. Then MacGyver's hand slipped away from hers and he sank once more, swallowing water with a gurgle, feeling the air in his lungs rapidly dissipate.


Mac awoke with a gasp, his eyes wide and alert, the creeping fear slowly draining away. An unexpected smile curled his lips when he realised the reason for the sudden change in his dream. Roadie woofed, happy to see him finally awake and licked his face once more, another slobbering wet wash with a long pink tongue.


Relieved, Mac laughed, patting the dog with one hand and reaching across the bed with the other. His fingers grasped the crumpled sheets and he looked sideways, beyond the excited dog. The bed was empty, Terry was gone. Mac's brow furrowed into a frown, wondering where she was and feeling guilty that he hadn't noticed her get up.


Throwing off the blanket, he stood and glanced around for the clothing removed the previous night, but he couldn't see his sweatshirt. Mac bent down to Roadie, now at his heels, rubbing his muzzle with both hands as he spoke, "Hey Roadie, where's Terry? Go on boy, go find Terry."


Roadie barked once and quickly padded out of the room. Mac followed down the hall into the living room, spotting Terry sitting outside on the bench, her bare legs tucked up to her chest beneath her T-shirt against the early morning chill. As Mac got closer, he noticed she had his sweatshirt draped over her shoulders.


He grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch and opened the door to the backyard. Terry didn't appear to notice until he pulled the sweatshirt away and wrapped her huddled form into the blanket. Then she looked at him, the distant unfocused gaze pulling back slowly to regard him with a grateful smile.


"What ya doin' out here?" MacGyver asked, sitting down beside her and shivering against the cold breeze on his naked chest before he got the sweatshirt fully on. Roadie sniffed around in the bushes nearby, his task of finding Terry completed.


"Just watching the dawn," she replied softly, turning back to stare at the whitecaps on the ocean caught by the sea breeze.


"Missed you," MacGyver smiled gently.


"I didn't want to wake you. You looked so peaceful," Terry explained, lifting her gaze towards him with a shy smile. "I was going to get up and make breakfast. I got as far as the shower and realised it wasn't going to be easy!" She slightly raised her immobilised arm, indicating the problem.


"Ah! Yep, that could be a problem all right," Mac grinned, "I think we might need a little MacGyver magic to cope with that one."


"And what would that be?" Terry asked with a sceptical grin, "I warn you, my skin is allergic to duct tape!"


"How about Saran wrap and an extra pair of hands?" Mac offered with a smile. "Or you could take a bath?"


"I'm more of a shower person."


"Okay. Shower it is. I'll help hold the soap or something." Mac put his hands up in an open gesture, "And I promise not to peek!"


"Okay. But you'd better watch what you do with those hands, Mister!" Terry laughed.


Mac's smile grew wider, appreciating the sound of her laughter. Relaxing more, he scooted closer across the bench. "What are you going to do if I don't?" he grinned, slipping a hand beneath the blanket to trail long sensuous fingers from her toe to her thigh.


~~~~~~~~~~


They had arranged with Sergeant Wisley for Terry to visit the police station that lunchtime and give her full statement on the kidnapping and murder she had witnessed.


When the time came to leave the safehouse she took some persuading, reluctant to go for some reason, which Mac put down to fear of having to dredge it all back up again now that she had finally stopped shaking. But, as MacGyver pointed out, it was better to get it over and done with while the details were still so fresh in her mind. So they left in an unmarked car borrowed from one of the Phoenix agents guarding the place and drove the few miles downtown, leaving Roadie the run of the house with strict instructions from Terry to not get up to any mischief!


Inside, the busy police station was noisy and chaotic. They met the Sergeant and he took them down the hall to a small interview room where Terry's statement could be recorded on film and by a stenographer. Mac could feel Terry get more and more tense as they approached the corridor of interview and interrogation cells. Halting outside, she asked if MacGyver could go in with them.


Sergeant Wisley studied her for a moment, noting her nervousness, and nodded his head sympathetically. MacGyver took a chair in the corner, out of the way but in Terry's view, and the session began.


Terry explained, in increasingly faltering sentences, the events of the previous morning, prompted by frequent questions from the police officer when he needed to clarify things or wanted more details.


When they seemed to be finally finished, the Sergeant then asked her to explain what had happened three days ago when the four men had gotten into David's house. Terry struggled, swallowing convulsively and twisting her hands together, occasionally glancing in Mac's direction to meet his reassuring gaze.


MacGyver noticed how the more nervous Terry got the more she kept looking at the blank walls surrounding them, her eyes flitting edgily from one side to the other as though she was afraid they were closing in.


Slowly he put two and two together, finally recognising the signs that had been there all along if only he'd realised. The way she always rode with the car windows or roof down, but preferred to cycle or walk. Her insistence on eating lunch outdoors two days before. The deep lungfuls of air she breathed whenever she went outside, and her absolute tense silence in the underground parking garage at the Phoenix headquarters as though she was stifling a scream.


MacGyver rose from his chair. "Sergeant, I think Miss Wightman needs to take a break. You've been at this for hours," he pointed out insistently.


"Yes, okay," the policeman agreed reluctantly, glancing at his watch. "Fifteen minutes," he allowed.


Mac took Terry by the arm and swiftly steered her towards the front of the building and onto the street outside. Terry let herself be led, her mind almost numb with anxiety until she sank against the outer wall in relief. She let out a ragged gasp, breathing hard and trying to regain her flimsy control.


MacGyver stood in front of her, his eyes watchful for any sign of trouble, but mainly watching her. "Claustrophobia?" he asked gently. It was a long time before Terry finally looked at him and nodded almost imperceptibly. "How long?"


"Since I was a kid," she admitted quietly.


"Why didn't you say something?" Mac asked gently, taking her right hand and entwining his fingers with hers.


"Because I thought I could control it," Terry looked away, her lip trembling slightly. "Most of the time," she whispered.


MacGyver pulled her into his embrace with a sigh, pressing a kiss against her hair. "Except under extreme circumstances," he said softly.


Terry nodded against his shoulder, her silky hair tickling his neck. "Thanks for getting me out of there, Mac," she eventually murmured.


"You're welcome," he replied, hugging her again. They lapsed into a comfortable silence until it was time to return inside. Then he kissed her temple, placing a finger beneath her chin as he loosened his embrace and tilted her head towards him. "Ready to go back in?"


Terry shrugged lopsidedly and MacGyver leaned in to press his lips to hers in a soft sweet kiss. He released her and looked into her eyes again. "Ready now?" he grinned and Terry nodded, smiling weakly in return as Mac took her hand and walked her back inside to finish giving her statement.


~~~~~~~~~~


By the time Sergeant Wisley had finished going over and over all the minute details of Terry's statement, had it typed up and ready for her to sign, it was after six o'clock in the evening.


Terry looked exhausted and MacGyver didn't feel much better. It had been bad enough hearing her faltering description of the kidnapping of her brother, the murder of the Phoenix agent and her own tussle with the mercenary now in custody. But Mac had found it infinitely more harrowing listening to Terry describe the way in which she had been attacked and beaten in David's home, interrogated by four merciless men whose questions she was unable to answer even if she'd wanted to.


From MacGyver's point of view, listening to Terry's halting repetition of the details effected him almost as badly as it must have been for Terry to be forced to talk about it, over and over, by what seemed like the most pedantic police sergeant Mac had ever met.


When they were finally free to leave the interview room, Mac placed an arm around the weary woman's waist and steered her towards the street through the constant bustle of the front lobby. Their borrowed vehicle was parked one block down in front of some offices and they walked to it quickly, MacGyver settling Terry into the passenger seat before rounding the car to the driver's side.


Terry immediately wound her window all the way down and rested her elbow on the door frame, her head leaning tiredly on her hand. Mac jumped in his side, slammed the door and jammed the keys into the ignition, surprised when Terry's right hand suddenly locked over his wrist, freezing his hand in place.


"Did you leave a clock in the car?" she hissed urgently.


Mac looked at her oddly, "No, of course not!"


"Then why can I hear ticking?"


MacGyver froze, listening hard, but unable to hear anything. "Where?" he eventually asked.


"My right side," Terry gulped palely, "I can hear it through the window."


Thinking carefully, Mac slowly turned and checked his own window, not wishing to risk reopening the car door when he had no idea what might be wired up to where. If Terry's window had opened safely, it seemed a fair bet that his own would too. He gingerly rolled it down and then eased himself out through it, hanging onto the upper door frame as he lowered his long legs to the sidewalk.


"Don't move!" he warned Terry unnecessarily, then he circled the vehicle and ducked down on the passenger side to peer underneath.


MacGyver felt all the blood drain from his face as his view was filled with two large, paper-wrapped blocks of plastic explosive. Detonators were planted firmly in the centre of each, then connected to each other by a single tautly fixed tripwire, touch it or cut it and the whole thing would blow up.


Another two wires from each detonator were twisted together and then separated into one long electrical conduit. One end led up through the wheel well to the hinged side of the front passenger door. The other end connected directly to a miniature clock, the source of the quiet ticking that Terry had only heard because she had wound down the window in an effort to combat her claustrophobia.


The alarm clock was set to go off at exactly twelve o'clock. Mac had to assume it had only just been activated a few minutes before when the car door had been slammed onto the hidden wire. But whoever had placed the bomb apparently didn't want to waste any time. The hands of the clock already read two minutes before twelve.


The wires obviously worked as a trip switch too. If the passenger door was opened again, the explosives would be set off. Despite its simplicity, it was a perfect bomb, with the added failsafes in case the timer was too late or anyone tried to disarm it. But it was the sort of bomb that had no signature. Any intelligent amateur could have concocted it, there would be no identification to be gained from its design.


Simple or not, it was exceedingly deadly.


MacGyver quickly stood up, his voice low as if any loud noise might accidentally set off the explosion. "You have to get out through the other window. Now! Don't touch this door." he urged Terry, running around to the other side and leaning in to help her out. Protecting her head from banging against the door frame, he eased her through so she didn't bash her immobilised shoulder.


Terry didn't say a word, she simply followed his orders and accepted his help. When she was far enough out to sit on the door ledge, MacGyver lifted her by the waist to drag her long legs from the vehicle. With her feet firmly on the sidewalk, he took her hand and they ran, as far out of range as they could get in the few seconds remaining.


Mac glanced around worriedly, but it was after hours, the surrounding offices were already closed for the day. Thankfully, there were no innocent bystanders about to get caught in the blast.


His mental countdown hit zero, barely fifty feet from the bomb. He pushed Terry behind the nearest parked vehicle, dived down beside her and covered their heads protectively with his leather jacket, holding his breath in anticipation of an extremely loud bang.


The explosion was deafeningly close, rocking the vehicle they were sheltering behind and showering them with debris from shattered building and car windows all across the street. It set off all the security alarms within a single block radius. The only good thing was their location, so close to the police station that uniforms came quickly running.


Before long the entire scene had been cordoned off. Fire engines were in attendance to dowse the flames still burning in the wreckage of the car and a paramedic was trying to check the hearing of the two dazed people caught within the proximity of the explosion.


Testing Terry's hearing was simple. She was so shocked and her ears were ringing so badly, she could barely make out what the paramedic was saying, but from visible examination he was able to determine there was no permanent damage or bleeding from the ears.


Testing MacGyver's hearing was another matter. Mac was so busy yelling at the somewhat stunned Sergeant Wisley that the paramedic eventually gave up awaiting any response to his questions and abandoned his efforts. Instead, he decided that, since there was no visible sign of pain or bleeding, the second blast victim was probably fine too, albeit clearly shaken up.


"Somebody knew where we were and what we were driving!" MacGyver continued to yell at the top of his voice. His anger at the situation fuelled by the adrenalin that still flowed from such a terrifyingly close call and exacerbated by the ringing in his ears that stopped him from realising just how loudly he was shouting. "That bomb was placed directly beneath the passenger seat. It was specifically aimed at Terry!"


Mac's gaze automatically shifted to the woman watching from nearby and he suddenly realised her hearing was returning by the way her already pale face went a ghastly shade of grey at his somewhat insensitive outburst. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that she had been the target of the bomb, but up till now, Terry had managed not to think about it in quite such shocking terms.


His anger instantly deflating, Mac lowered his voice guiltily, clenching his hands and shoving them in his pockets to try and calm himself. He turned back to the police sergeant, "I'd say you've got a leak in your department!"


"Mister MacGyver!" Wisley exclaimed, tightlipped, "Has it occurred to you that the Phoenix Foundation also knew exactly where you would be, not to mention what you were driving? If I were you, I would clean up your own house before throwing garbage around someone else's!"


Mac stared at him, swallowing dryly as he realised the sergeant was right. Only someone at the Phoenix Foundation would even have known the make, model and license plate of the vehicle he had driven to the police station.


Unless someone had been watching and awaiting their arrival. Someone who did not want to be seen making an open attack on the woman. A group who did not want to create any further witnesses to their existence and intent, but who purely wished to eradicate the one that already existed.


Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Mac blew out his cheeks worriedly. "You're right, Sergeant, I'm sorry," he gestured apologetically, "Can you help me get Miss Wightman back to the safehouse undercover? If we can borrow a few of your police vans to act as decoys......."


"You think someone may be watching the station?" Wisley asked in a low voice, instinctively glancing at the buildings around them.


"Well, as you pointed out, the only other people who knew what car we were driving all work for the Phoenix Foundation and I'd trust any of them with my life!"


~~~~~~~~~~


When they were finally done at the blast scene, MacGyver and Terry embarked on an extremely tiresome, circuitous route around the city in the back of an unmarked police van, driven by one of Sergeant Wisley's best men, dressed in plain clothes.


Mac felt drained and dejected and he knew Terry must be feeling even worse. She remained silent throughout the journey. In fact, she hadn't said a word since answering the paramedic's questions about her hearing. Now he could see her claustrophobia was adding to her stress and the sooner they reached the safehouse the better.


The second they arrived, MacGyver led her out into the backyard, reuniting her with Roadie and leaving only long enough to make a hot calming drink and to telephone Pete to tell him what had happened.


"MacGyver, that was a close call!" Pete exclaimed, when he had finished explaining, master of the understatement as always.


"I know, Pete. And if it wasn't for Terry, we'd both be dead," Mac admitted despondently.


"Are you sure the house is still safe?"


"Yeah, Pete," he replied, having had plenty of time to consider the same question himself during the journey back. "The way I see it, there were far too many ways they could have found out Terry would be at that police station. They may even have left someone watching the place over the last twenty four hours until we turned up. That bomb was a quick, simple job, it could have been placed beneath the car within a few minutes of our arrival. We need to tighten security on this. Next time we might not be so lucky!"


"Okay," Pete agreed, "We'll clamp it down. From now on, no information on Terry's whereabouts or movements goes through anything other than scrambled telephone lines or face to face contact. I'll make sure the agents guarding you are the only other ones who know who's inside that safehouse. And we don't pass any details over to the police. How's that."


"Good. Thanks, Pete." MacGyver hung up, feeling slightly better about the security aspect. Still he couldn't help feeling that he had failed to protect Terry. He simply hadn't thought there would be any risk in her attending the police station and for that he blamed himself for being so distracted by her current wellbeing, instead of concentrating on her future survival.


Mac stared out through the back windows. It was getting late and the sun had already set some time before. He could see little outside beyond the reflection of the lamplight in the glass, so he swiped his hand against the switch to extinguish it, blinking his eyes to adjust to the darkness.


A few stars were beginning to show in the night sky and he could make out the shadowy figure of Terry sitting on the wooden bench with Roadie at her feet. With a heavy sigh, Mac grabbed a blanket off the back of a nearby armchair and went out through the French doors.


"How ya doin'?" he asked softly, unfolding the blanket and wrapping it around her, knowing she must be chilly in the cool night air.


"Thanks," Terry murmured, adding, not entirely convincingly, "I'm okay, considering."


"Considering?" MacGyver fished, hoping to lure her into talking out her fears.


"Oh, considering I've never been targeted by bombers before!" She attempted to smile, but it came out as a grimace.


"Really?" Mac said, trying to lighten the conversation, "And I thought you were a woman of the world!"


"Well, apparently not!" Terry snorted, "Until this week, I'd never been beaten up, shot at, almost abducted or blown up. Amazing! I had no idea what I was missing, until I got it all! Oh, and not to mention witnessing a murder and the kidnapping of my own brother!"


"Bet you'd never been interrogated by a policeman quite so thoroughly before either!" Mac said sardonically, trying to suppress a renewed burst of anger as he recalled the extreme grilling Terry had been subjected to that afternoon by Sergeant Wisley, before the explosion had really ended the day nicely.


"Not by a policeman, no," Terry said, her voice grim.


Mac exhaled slowly, his irritation with himself causing him to miss the implications in her words. "I'm sorry, Terry. I'd never have forced you to go down to the police station so soon if I'd known what Wisley was like."


"It's okay, Mac," Terry assured him quietly, adding almost to herself, "Lord knows, I've been through more difficult inquisitions in my time."


Finally MacGyver focused on her words, regarding her curiously. The tone of her voice told him she wasn't talking about the interrogation she had suffered at the hands of the four mercenaries a few days before. But Terry was staring out at the ocean now, her eyes distant, avoiding his gaze. Silence fell over them and it appeared that the conversation was over.


Terry surprised him when she spoke again, "I guess you're used to all this sort of thing in your line of work?" She looked at him, marvelling how a man made up of such profound kindness and hope could maintain such a caring attitude towards people, when he faced these deadly situations on a daily basis. Situations often caused by the very humanity he hoped to save.


Not for the first time, Terry wondered how MacGyver had survived all the knocks and setbacks he had suffered in his life. She had seen the visible scars on his body which seemed an inherent part of his profession. She also knew some of the invisible scars he held inside, those that he had chosen to share with her. Some of those scars had driven him to choose this line of work in the first place. But how could he face such danger, day in, day out?


"Terry, you never get used to being shot at or blown up!" Mac answered her question. "You'd have to be dead inside to not feel anything. You just learn to cope with it, that's all."


"How?" she asked softly.


Mac considered for a moment. "You lean on friends. You take each day at a time. You try not to think about 'what ifs'. You live life to the fullest possible extent." He smiled at her bashfully then, "And you never pass up the chance of finding someone special or sharing comfort with another person."


"I guess I could live by that creed." She looked at him meaningfully, reaching out a hand to entwine with his.


Terry shifted on the bench, attempting to reposition herself more comfortably, too exhausted to not let herself sleep, but unwilling to return inside the confines of the house as yet. Mac lifted his arm, inviting her to borrow his shoulder and she gladly accepted his offer, resting her head tiredly, her arm encircling his waist, her eyes still focused on the starlit sky as she tried to relax.


Mac wished he could do the same, but once again he found himself with too many thoughts buzzing around inside his head, not the least of which was that if it hadn't been for Terry's claustrophobia, they would not be sitting here right now. So much for no 'what ifs', he almost snorted at the irony of that thought.


And now it just added another mystery to her past. When pressed, Terry had told him she'd suffered from claustrophobia since she was a kid. So what had happened to start it off?


Mac shook the thought away, he had enough unanswered questions about her without adding to them. Besides, right now, none of them had any bearing on her safety. He needed to focus, to get off this crusade to find out all about Terry's past and instead concentrate on making sure she had a future.


With a start, MacGyver realised he had dozed off. The stars he had been staring at during his last wandering thought had visibly travelled across the dark sky and he could feel the coolness of his skin where it was open to the elements. Judging by her shallow breathing, Terry was fast asleep, still resting against his shoulder. And, like it or not, she really should be inside in bed.


Holding her body in place with one hand, Mac slid out from beneath her and stood upright, bending to lift her in what was becoming a nightly ritual of putting the exhausted woman to bed. Under close scrutiny of Roadie, the guard dog, who had suddenly become alert to their movement, Mac headed into the house.


This time when Mac gently pulled her boots off, Terry did not stir awake. He reckoned she had been asleep for at least an hour and was obviously now resting deeply, barely moving when Mac pulled back the covers and tucked her into the bed.


Contemplating his options, MacGyver's conscience eventually settled for a fairly comfy looking armchair, pulling it closer to perch his feet up on the edge of the bed. Before he sat down he patted the mattress for Roadie to jump up and sleep beside Terry, then he went back out to lock up the doors and check the house was secure.


Finally, stifling an enormous yawn of his own, Mac picked up the discarded blanket and settled down in the armchair beside the sleeping woman and dog.


~~~~~~~~~~


NOW GO TO PART 3b