Phoenix Field Agent
Posts: 1,889
Joined: 11 Jan 2006
Gender: Female
Country: USA
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Season: season 3
Episode:Passages
Vehicle: Jeep
Jacket: Black leather
House: House boat
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Hunted Part Three
Rated: R
Several weeks later…
One thing MacGyver liked about his forced seclusion and the safe house that served as his retreat from the dangerous world was the porch swing it had. He sat there for many hours reading, absorbing everything from scientific journals, sports biographies, westerns, histories, philosophy, to even the occasional mystery or thriller. Music usually played in the background, as diverse as his reading material—jazz, classic rock, blues, folk, classical. The safe house was nestled in a quiet, sleepy mountain town, a setting that Pete knew would please him and help ease his reservations about having to live there temporarily. It was also near a paved, two-lane winding road, but it was nothing like an interstate, few cars ever passing by. Overall, it was the kind of peaceful environment that MacGyver preferred. Still, it wasn’t home. It wasn’t his houseboat. He missed its familiarity, its comfort, the way it gently swayed and rocked with the motions of the water beneath it. He missed his own furniture and belongings, the items supplied for him at the safe house foreign to him, not his own, and certainly not his taste. It was almost as if he had assumed another life, borrowing it from someone else, existing in some kind of limbo where his future was uncertain. Pete updated him constantly on his private, secure line about his efforts to once again learn the whereabouts of James Mondragon’s drug syndicate, but little if anything new or surprising surfaced. All he could do was continue to wait. He was stuck, trapped by waiting.
A blaring car horn on the nearby road alerted him, snapping him out of his ruminations. Screeching tires followed. Running out to see the cause of the commotion, he saw a car battling with a bicyclist, swerving and speeding, zipping and weaving in and out of lanes as if attempting to knock the cyclist off the road.
“Hey!” He shouted, running towards the road as quickly as he could, his bullet wound still sore and healing, hampering his efforts somewhat.
He saw the cyclist tumble, rolling of the side of the road and avoiding the car as the maniac driving it sped away, allowing little time for MacGyver to see its license plate. He hoped it wouldn’t return. Either the driver was being reckless, teasing, or really trying to hit the cyclist, chasing the person in what appeared to be a predatory, cruel manner. Approaching the site where the cyclist fell, he stopped, panting from running.
“Are you all right?” He called out, still catching his breath.
The cyclist struggled to stand, and for the first time MacGyver saw it was a woman. She was attractive, rugged and athletic, her chestnut hair tied back in a ponytail.
“Yeah, I think so,” she said, brushing the dirt and leaves off her workout clothing. “Jerk!” She shouted down the road, even though the inconsiderate motorist was long gone. Turning towards her bike, she tried to pick it up. “Oh damn, the frame’s bent on this thing,” she said, sighing. “That’s just great. One more thing I need. Some lunatic tries to run me down, and then he destroys my mountain bike. I swear, if I ever catch him…”
“Here, let me help you,” MacGyver said, offering his hand.
The woman looked up at him and smiled. “Thanks,” she said.
He pulled her and the damaged bike up to the side of the road. “I’ll bet I can fix that for you, and it won’t cost a thing,” he said, examining the bent frame.
“Really?” The woman asked.
“Sure, no problem. I’m very handy with things like this.”
The woman winced and looked down, noticing that her knee was scraped badly, the torn flesh looking like raw hamburger meat, beads of blood dripping from the long gash.
“How are you with things like this?” She asked, pointing down to her knee.
“Ouch,” MacGyver said, also wincing. “Well, I have a fist aid kit. I’m sure I can patch you up as well.” He smiled.
The woman stared at him, returning his smile, mesmerized and enchanted by it and how much it enhanced his handsomeness and charm. “My name is Julia,” she said, extending her hand.
“MacGyver.”
She frowned. “That’s an unusual name,” she said.
“It’s my last name,” MacGyver said, blushing and smiling sheepishly.
“Really? Is your first name really that atrocious?”
“Yep.”
“Oh, well my condolences, then,” she said, a teasing grin on her face. “I’ve never liked the name Julia, either, but I can’t exactly go by my last name as you do. It just doesn’t sound quite as good.”
“What’s your last name?”
“Strauss.”
“Very German.”
“You bet.” She winked at him. “Yours is very Scottish.”
“Guilty,” MacGyver said, smiling again.
He knew she was already flirting with him, the damsel in distress grateful that he had come to her rescue. He didn’t care. He was beginning to be as beguiled by her charms as she was by his. Chemistry already seemed to exist between them, even after only a few minutes of talking. He told himself not to panic, not to throw himself into his usual anxiety and alarm over relationships, reminding himself that he had just met this woman. There was no way of telling yet where things would lead, whether they would become serious and he would feel his usual need to pull away, losing her in his fear of losing her, not willing to take the final leap of commitment. At the moment, he was just glad he met her, beginning to feel a little too lonely in that safe house.
“Come on,” he said, taking her crooked bike and walking it even though it creaked and wobbled, refusing to remain on a straight, even path, the journey with it awkward and cumbersome. “Let’s get you and your bike all patched up.”
Both of them looked up and down the road before crossing it, cautiously looking out and half expecting the crazy driver to return and run them both down. They walked silently for awhile through the woods leading to the safe house, taking a worn deer path. MacGyver turned and noticed that Julia was limping slightly, looking down at her shredded knee. He looked at her in concern.
“Are you okay?” He asked.
She looked up at him and smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, “just a little gimpy is all.”
MacGyver grinned sideways. “Well, we’re almost there,” he said. “How long have you been biking around here?”
“For about five years, I guess,” Julia said. “I live around here.”
“Really? So do I,” MacGyver said, hating to lie to her but knowing he couldn’t reveal the true reason he was there for safety reasons. He reasoned that it wasn’t a total lie. He did, after all, live there. At least for now. “I just moved here.”
“Well, you’re going to love it here. It’s absolutely beautiful.”
MacGyver looked around the forest. “Yeah, it sure is,” he said, breathing in the fresh, crisp, pine-scented air.
“I mountain bike around here often. There are some awesome trails. Do you mountain bike, MacGyver?”
“Are you kidding? I love anything that has to do with the outdoors.”
“I figured you did. You look like the type. So am I. There’s just something purer about living here, something clean, simple, and honest. Maybe we can go biking together sometime.”
MacGyver smiled shyly. “That would be nice,” he said. “I’d like that.”
As they reached the small, simple house with the porch swing, MacGyver wondered if he was doing the right thing bringing Julia there, worried about her safety. He didn’t want an innocent bystander getting hurt. He was, after all, still a target. Pete had explicitly told him no visitors beyond those cleared by Phoenix security or him, but it wasn’t as if he had completely forbidden it, merely following protocol and making recommendations. Besides, Julia was hurt and a little shaken from that careless driver. He wondered about that, wondered if that speeding car was meant to run him over, sent by one of Mondragon’s men. If it had been, the driver had missed a perfect opportunity to hit him, passing him when he approached the road. The driver had to have seen him at that point, but he missed him and continued driving. He calmed himself, telling himself that the driver had just been some angry person, not a vengeful assassin sent by James Mondragon. It was freak occurrence, an accident, a fluke in this bizarre, unpredictable world.
“This is your place?” Julia asked, admiring it.
“Yes,” MacGyver said, setting her mangled bike beside the garage.
“It’s adorable. Charming, really. I like it.”
“I’m glad you approve. Come on, let’s get that knee looked at. Does it hurt?”
Julia bent over and examined it again. “A little,” she said. “It’s throbbing pretty badly.”
“You might have some small stones from the road embedded in it,” he said. “I’ll get it cleaned and bandaged for you.”
They entered the house, opening the door to the plain, standard furniture and a cheap, tacky flower painting on the wall over one of the drab sofas.
“Not much of a decorator, are you?” Julia asked.
“What?” MacGyver asked.
“Oh nothing, really…I don’t mean to insult you, it’s just that…well, that floral print—it’s not what I expected. It’s a little out of character for you, isn’t it, mountain man?”
“I’m renting,” MacGyver said, thinking of a quick response that would sound ordinary to cover up the fact that it really wasn’t his house. “The furniture and everything came with it.”
“Well, if I were you I would get my own furniture in here as soon as possible, lighten things up a little bit. That stuff is depressing to look at.”
“Yeah, but it’s still functional. Have a seat. I’ll go get my first aid kit.”
Julia sat on the sofa, propping up her leg, staring at her bloodied knee. “So, how long have you been here, then?” She asked.
“Not long,” MacGyver said, walking down the hallway towards the bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit from his jeep out of the medicine cabinet. He wasn’t allowed to bring his jeep, but he had removed some essentials from it before coming there, things he knew he might need—his first aid kit, his jumper cables, his gasoline can. “I told you—I just moved here.”
“So, why didn’t you get your furniture and your own things in here yet?” Julia asked, loudly enough so that her voice would carry back to the bathroom where MacGyver was.
“Oh, procrastination I guess. Laziness.”
He returned, pulling a chair beside her and examining her knee. He opened the first aid kit and took out a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide. “This will clean it,” he said, opening the bottle and pouring some of it on a cotton pad. “Careful. This will sting a bit.”
Julia nodded, biting her lower lip slightly, preparing herself. “Go ahead, I’m ready,” she said.
MacGyver placed the pad of peroxide on the bleeding scrape, gently dabbing at it. Both of them watched as the liquid bubbled and turned white. “Fascinating stuff, isn’t it?” MacGyver asked, trying to keep her preoccupied so that she wouldn’t think about the pain. “Are you sure you don’t want to see a doctor about this? I can’t tell yet, but it might need stitches.”
“I’ll live,” Julia said.
MacGyver returned to cleaning it. “I guess it’s not as deep or as severe as it first looked,” he said. “You should be fine.”
Julia grinned. “Told ‘ya,” she said.
He took out a pad of gauze bandages and carefully wrapped her knee. “There,” he said, looking at her. “You should be all set.”
“Thanks, MacGyver.”
“You’re welcome. Now, let’s go see about that bike of yours.”
***
MacGyver worked quickly, smoothly, and accurately, restoring Julia’s bike with his usual combination of ingenuity, patience, and determination. Julia watched him work in astonishment.
“Wow,” she said, examining her repaired bike. “I’m impressed. It looks brand new! You’re truly a wizard, do you know that? Incredible. Thank you again.”
“Don’t mention it,” MacGyver said, smiling another one of his irresistible smiles at her.
“Thanks also for a memorable afternoon. You know, rescuing me from certain death and all.” She winked again.
MacGyver looked away, flattered but nervous about her advances. “You’re welcome,” he said.
Julia stared at her bike for awhile, thinking of what to say next. She almost got back on her back and rode away, but she stopped, looking at him again. “Listen,” she said. “I like you. I know we just met, but I feel…I don’t know…a certain connection between us. How…well…how should I put this? Uh…how would you like to get to know me better? You know, spend more time with me?”
MacGyver looked at her, his smile boyish. “I’d like that a lot,” he said.
He didn’t care anymore. Let Pete get upset and overprotective. He was beginning to get cabin fever locked away in that little house alone. He needed a diversion, something to take his mind off the imminent danger he could be facing at the hands of Mondragon and his syndicate. He needed to reduce his stress, take his mind off the multiple scenarios of his doom that presented themselves to him in his sleep in the form of nightmares, being shot repeatedly in his dreams. Most of all, he needed companionship during this difficult time, something Pete was not always able to provide. MacGyver had to admit to himself that he had been too long without a woman in his life. Commitment phobic or not, he was ready to give it another try. Julia seemed genuine, friendly, easy to talk to—not to mention gorgeous. He deserved this, he told himself. He needed time for himself.
“All right, well maybe I’ll see you around. After all, I know where you live,” Julia said in a mock threatening tone, pretending to glare at him in a menacing way, a playful grin on her lips, mischief in her eyes. She got on her mountain bike and rode away.
“Be careful with the knee!” He called after her.
She waved at him.
As he watched her leave, he couldn’t help but think about what she said about knowing where he lived. She was kidding, of course, but he wondered again whether he had made a wise decision or not, allowing her into his safe house as if it was his own home. He might have unintentionally led her into danger. It was too late now, though. There was no time for regrets. He had let her into his life, as he had so many others. He had to take the risk that she might be taken from him, just as he had to whenever he opened his heart to anyone.
***
As he predicted, Pete was furious with him when he told him about Julia and what had happened.
“MacGyver, how in the world could you do something like that?” Pete shouted over his end of the phone. “Didn’t I tell you no visitors unless they were authorized by Phoenix?”
“She was hurt, Pete, and a little scared. Some wacko on the road almost ran into her. I felt obligated to help.”
Pete laughed slightly, his tension and anger lessening. “I know, you always do,” he said. “Look, I’m just worried is all.”
“You always are.”
“Well, do you know anything about this woman, other than she had an accident, right near the safe house I might add? Don’t you find that a little strange? Perhaps it was orchestrated.”
“It was a coincidence, Pete. That’s all. And of course I don’t know much about her yet. I just met her. What do you want me to do, interrogate her?”
“All I’m saying is…watch your back. Mondragon is as clever as you. He uses any methods at his disposal to get to his targets.”
“I don’t think Julia is one of his operatives.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I can’t. I just…when I looked at her, when I was around her today, I felt comfortable, safe. I trust her.”
“Do you? Do you think you can afford to?”
MacGyver sighed, knowing Pete was right on some levels, but he didn’t want to live in a constant state of fear and paranoia, either. “Yes,” he said. “I think I can. She’s harmless, Pete.”
To be continued…
 "If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer."
--Henry David Thoreau
brains+brawn+beauty+personality=MacGyver
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I'm a busy gal during the week, but I will be posting part four sometime this weekend, I promise! 
