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"It's so good to hear your voice again. How's your foot healing up?"
"The surgery was four months ago, Jarod. I'm doing fine. That isn't what you want to ask me."
"Of course it isn't... but you know I won't. It's still too hard."
"We don't know anything for sure...."
"Please. I'm working through it. I don't want or need to hear anything that will just stir up bad feelings. Have you and Duncan had a chance to see each other?"
"Not in a while. He's just rented a house out here. Adam's still dithering about joining him. He's not overly fond of the east coast, apparently. Something about the Puritans and an uncomfortable few nights in the stocks.... Chris?"
"They're both doing well. He's still struggling with the visions, but it's getting easier. Debbie's changing her name. Care to guess?"
"She.... no. You're not serious."
"She's now Melissa Broots. She said she missed you very much and wanted to be sure you and she would always be connected. You have the number. You can call you know."
"I know. As you said so succinctly..... it's hard."
Jarod let Parker's half admission hang in the air without benefit of comment. He understood the friendship she'd begun to build with Debbie as well as some of the things that friendship had helped her begin to work through.
"Talk to you next week?"
"I'll probably be here. No chasing after you to keep me busy lately. Someone hasn't been responsible about leaving his usual trail of breadcrumbs."
"Things have been changing. I need a break for a while." Jarod responded, his tone suddenly leached of its normal warmth and strength.
"Jarod. What's going on?"
"I can't. You know that. Not while you're still..... I adore you and I won't stop calling. I promise that. Be safe, Missy. Good-night."
The dial tone buzzing in her ear shocked Parker. Jarod hadn't hung up on her that way in months. They'd been having regular once a week conversations since she'd returned from Seacouver and he had allowed her to end every one. Whatever it was that was disturbing or worrying him, it had to be major. Slipping the phone receiver back into its cradle, she lay down and tried to get back to sleep, though she knew it might well be a futile attempt.
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Seated in the very back of the university lecture hall, Jarod was still for the first time since he'd left Cascade and Jim and Blair. He'd been on the extreme end of the restless spectrum throughout the entire trip to Minnesota, anxious to be moving forward with the creation of his network and overly anxious to meet the man he was watching at that moment.
The speaker strode back and forth before the group of high school juniors who surrounded Jarod, halting only when a question was asked or a thought struck him and he felt he had to voice it. Jarod was utterly fascinated; with the mobile face that seemed ready to break into a smile at the least provocation and with the vast range of other emotions that appeared there. To a man who had spent nearly thirty years hiding, and being punished for, his emotions, the lecturer was a wonderment and a puzzle he was eager to begin piecing together.
When the man turned to the large portable chalkboard to illustrate a point, Jarod raised his estimate of the man's age a bit on discovering a light sprinkling of gray in his hair, then pulled out of his mesmerizing reveries just in time to hear the last few sentences of the lecture.
"Out of the box is five minutes ago, guys. I'm talking about out of a dungeon. The worst dungeon ever built; the 'minimum wage, sixty hours a week and I have no life.' dungeon. Once you let yourself be tossed in there, it's a tough prison to escape from. Open up your minds, see all the options. Be creative, be willing to risk and be willing to be scared. The first book in the "Wrinkle in Time" series is by the doors. The assignment is as much as you can get through of it before next week. I don't think you'll have any trouble with it. Trust me; it rocks for sci-fi fans and science geeks alike. See you Tuesday."
As the students filed out in groups of two and three, laughing and chattering, Jarod remained seated, watching their professor wipe the board with a damp cloth, collect his things into his briefcase and do other small tasks.
When the hall was empty except for the two of them, Jarod rose, walked to the exit doors, gathered the remaining books into his arms and brought them down to the floor.
"Where can I put these?"
The older man stared at him curiously, his expression sober.
"In that cardboard box on the table."
Jarod completed the task without further comment, sliding the books carefully into place and arranging them so the nearby top would fit perfectly when he dropped it on a moment later. Hefting the small box easily, he half turned and favored the other with a small smile.
"Front or back parking lot?"
"It's alright, really. I can get it out there myself."
"I don't mind. I enjoyed your lecture so much.... I'd like to do something for you."
Another curious look, more intense this time, was all the response Jarod received as the other turned, grabbed his case and a coffee mug and led the way toward the rear exit from the hall, Jarod following at a respectful distance. At the car, he lowered the box slowly into the trunk and was beginning to straighten when he felt something cold press at the base of his neck and the voice behind him spoke up again, this time with no sign of pleasantness or curiosity.
"Whatever you thought you were about to do to me.... I'd say the plan has changed. Who sent you? Hmmm? I think I know the answer, but I want a confirmation out of your mouth. Then we'll take a short ride and see what the cops think."
Stunned, Jarod's only thought was to try and calm the other man and convince him of the tiny shard of truth that was all he was willing to give up right then.
"I'm not here to hurt you. I audited your lecture because I have an interest in teenagers and extra-environmental thought. I wanted to see your technique, get an idea how you presented the concepts. I only approached you because I really liked what I heard and saw..... and thought it might be worth getting to know you better. I can always use another intelligent friend. I swear, I mean you no harm."
"Where did you hear that term?"
"Extra- environmental thought? "Scientific American", two months ago. Now, unless you plan on the two of us singing a duet..... I think you can take your mini-cassette recorder off my neck."
After a long moment, the tension burst like a soap bubble and the older man chuckled softly and pulled the small device back, allowing Jarod to slowly turn and face his assailant.
"Damn. I actually think I have that issue somewhere at home.... How did you know it wasn't a stun-gun?"
A brief flash of fear and astonishment in Jarod's eyes told the other he hadn't even conceived of that possibility. "Look.... I'm sorry. I.... how about we go for coffee? The only condition being that, no, I won't talk about it."
"I'd enjoy that, and I agree. Whatever it is.... it's officially taboo."
"Thanks. Shall we?"
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"Just herbal tea, thanks. Chamomile if they have it." Jarod demurred as he and the older man entered a coffee shop a short distance from the university. "I try to stay away from caffeine as a rule. I'm naturally.... jumpy as it is."
"ADHD?"
"No. Just.... energetic. I burn a lot of calories in my head, but not quite enough to allow me to indulge very often."
"Sure." the other replied, not really understanding the odd turn of phrase, but willing to play along. Finding an empty table, he led the way to it and dropped into a chair. "I just realized we haven't even exchanged names, yet. MacGyver."
"Kyle. Kyle Paxson. Is that a first name or a last?"
"Only. I learned a long time ago it was easier that way. Call me Mac." he suggested, firmly shaking Jarod's proffered hand.
"Mac. It's good to meet you. I've read several of your published articles. Quite interesting."
"Is that good or bad?"
"Good, very good. I was deeply influenced by the paper you wrote on replacing Ritalin and that genre of drugs with affection-based discipline and one on one attention."
"Glad to hear it. Now, if only the schools and the parents would get the message."
"And the funding to make it happen."
"Amen to that."
"Maybe someday we'll value our kids enough to...."
Jarod's sentence drifted off into silence as his attention was co-opted by what a waitress was carrying by on a tray. "What's that?"
"A waitress. Female of the species, brings food and beverages in return for compensation and gratuities."
When he was finally able to tear his eyes away from the tray to gaze back at Mac, Jarod found humor brimming over from the other's expression.
"Ah-hah. Very cute. I meant what the waitress was carrying?"
Mac seriously considered giving his new friend the definition of a tray, but managed to restrain himself.
"Irish coffee."
"They can grow coffee in Ireland, now? That's strange. I'm sure I would have heard if global warming had changed the Western European climate that much."
Gazing intently at the other man, Mac realized he wasn't taking revenge for the waitress joke. He was asking a serious question. Shaking his head a little, Mac explained, or would have if Jarod's sweet tooth hadn't gotten in the way.
"No, no. Irish coffee is just black coffee with whipped cream on top...."
"I thought so! I love whipped cream! Waitress?"
"Kyle, hang on a minute...."
"Yes, sir."
"Two Irish coffees, please."
"Kyle...."
"I'm sorry, Mac. Did you want one too?"
"Do I.... no, thanks anyway. I thought you avoided caffeine."
"Where whipped cream's involved, my rules get a lot more.... fragile. Besides, I haven't had any today, so I should be alright."
{Two, both for him?! I'll be picking him up off the floor inside of twenty minutes....} After a moment of contemplation, Mac decided not to spurn an experiment in human nature when it was dropped in his lap and put the explanation on hold.
"Just a cup of lemon herbal tea with orange blossom honey." he directed at their patient waitress and sat back, knowing it was cruel not to tell Jarod the truth, but unable to resist seeing how he'd handle two quick doses of the heavily whiskey-laced concoction.
Staring unobtrusively at Jarod over the rim of his mug, MacGyver studied the other man as he would an untouched jigsaw puzzle, searching, and listening, for the border pieces that would at least put a framework around the enigma sitting across from him. As their talk moved from movies to women to obscure areas of math and science he only grew more and more intrigued.
"Amazing. I've never come across anyone like you before. You are a strange one Mr. Paxson."
{You don't know the half of it.} Jarod thought wryly as he sipped his coffee and scrutinized his tablemate even more closely than he himself was being examined.
Jarod's conversation, to Mac's stunned amazement, remained coherent and reasonably intelligent through two more rounds of one cup each, (the second and third rounds halved at Mac's suggestion) only beginning to stumble slightly near the end of his fourth cup. When MacGyver suggested they go, Jarod tried to rise immediately but found his knees wouldn't support him.
"Hmmmm. Strange... caffeine doesn't usually.... affect me this way......it feels..... actually it feels pretty good....."
Lifting Jarod to his feet, Mac guided him out the door and into his own car, chuckling all the while.
"I'll apologize in the morning. If I did it now you wouldn't remember a word I said."
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The following morning, Jarod awoke wrapped in pure misery, his mouth telling him he'd been shearing sheep with his teeth all night. Fighting off a headache he was sure rivaled any earthquake California had ever seen, he pushed up to a sitting position, managed to find his balance and made it to the breakfast bar where his host waited.
"Let me guess. Alcohol in the coffee?"
"Irish whiskey, therefore....."
"Irish coffee." Jarod groaned softly, head dropping onto his arms. "I haven't felt this bad in years."
"I really am sorry, but you got so excited I couldn't get a word in edgewise.... after a minute I didn't want to. I figured you'd be passed out cold after two cups, but you weren't even starting to feel it 'till the fourth one."
"I'm feeling it now."
"I bet. That's why I made this instead of breakfast." he said handing Jarod a tall glass filled with something sweet smelling and vaguely blue.
"And this would be....."
"My guaranteed hangover rescue drink. Skim milk, bananas for the vitamins and minerals booze leeches out of you, vanilla tofuti, wheat germ and a little honey. Try it."
Reluctantly, Jarod brought the glass first to his nose, then to his lips for a tentative sip. When the concoction proved to be fairly pleasant tasting and willing to remain in his stomach, he drank a little more deeply then eyed his host with mock irritation.
"You got me drunk. That wasn't very nice."
"I said I'm sorry. I let my curiosity overrule my good sense and moral compass. Forgive me?"
"For more of this... I guess so." he laughed, handing back the glass for a refill. "I do feel better. The world isn't a rock concert anymore and my palate is almost back to normal."
"Dehydration is the killer in a hangover. Anything you drank would soothe it temporarily. This stuff will stop it for good. 'Till next time, of course."
"Please! There will be no next time. I never want to feel this way again."
"Noone does. We all get.... silly." he told him, handing back the now full glass, which Jarod took back to the couch, walking with much less care and more stability than he had possessed on the earlier trip.
Mac turned to store the rest of the drink in a container and wash the blender. When he checked on his guest a few minutes later, the empty glass had been placed on the coffee table and the young man was curled up in a tight ball, deeply asleep.
Grabbing his keys, MacGyver went out to do some errands, sure that the other would be alright on his own for an hour or two.
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A little over two hours later Mac returned home to find Jarod awake and deeply engrossed in one of the driest textbooks in the house. It took several minutes for the younger man to even realize someone else was in the room. Mac opening the fridge and cabinets to put away a few purchases finally got the other's attention.
Jarod looked up with a sheepish smile for his host.
"Hi."
"Hi yourself." he responded easily as he moved closer to discover what had kept Jarod so enraptured. "What could you possibly want with this book?"
"The more you learn the more you can learn. Attention equals retention."
"That sounds like it was drilled into you by a teacher." Mac chuckled.
Suddenly somber, Jarod looked up quickly then back down.
"Not exactly. Can I borrow this for a while? I'd really like to finish it."
Mac looked at him as if he'd seen a marble or two drop out of Jarod's ears, but he nodded in agreement.
"You feel like food, yet?"
Jarod shot Mac a quick grimace and shook his head.
"More of that drink would be fine, if you don't mind."
"Sure. Would you like to see how I put it together?"
"Absolutely!" the other enthused, laying the book down and practically running to grab one of the stools at the counter.
As he mixed and instructed, Mac unobtrusively studied Jarod again, noting every minute change of expression, every flicker of interest in the eyes, not really trying to interpret, merely gathering information.
Once Jarod had a fresh glass of hangover cure and had settled happily back in with his book, Mac cleaned the blender, mixed another house-specialty drink and placed the blender container itself in the fridge this time. Grabbing his own reading material of choice, he headed for his room to read and mull over the conundrum he had allowed into his house. Neither one of them had yet mentioned how long the young mystery man would be staying, but Mac found he was, by now, far too curious not to give it a day or two to play itself out.
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That evening, the two met at the breakfast bar again and Mac presented Jarod with a glass full of the second mixture he'd made earlier that day.
"What is it this time?" Jarod asked with a small smile
"I call it C.YP.HER. Chamomile, yucca powder, and a finely ground blend that includes raspberry herbal tea. I added a little sweetener. Give it a shot. The other didn't suck dirt did it?"
A frown of confusion creased Jarod's brow.
"Suck dirt? It's a blender, not a vacuum cleaner."
Once again, MacGyver found himself thrown slightly off balance by the earnestness of the question. He chuckled, unsure whether he was being expertly played or not. The genuine innocent wonder in the other's voice only ramped up his interest.
"No. I meant the other drink didn't make you gag. Take a small sip. If you don't like it, it's okay."
"Mmmm. No, it's fine. Good actually. If I heard the ingredients correctly, though, I'm afraid this one will fail."
"We'll see."
"I don't sleep much. It's a big part of my nature.... and the other reasons are too numerous to mention."
"Whether it'll work isn't the issue. It tastes good. You like it. Any benefit you get from it is incidental. I feel like some music. Anything you're really into? I've probably got every genre ever produced."
"You pick. I don't get to listen to music too often. What's current and popular is really beyond me, I'm afraid."
{Where has this guy been, for the love of Mike; living in a backwoods cave with some weird Amish sect?}
"I didn't ask you what's popular. You must have heard music sometime. What makes you happy? What moves you or excites your mind? That's what music's for."
"Really. I'm sure I'll like whatever you do. Go ahead and choose."
Moving to the stereo, Mac grabbed one CD each from five distinct styles in his collection, loaded them into the player and turned back to Jarod.
"Just curious. Do you do that every time someone asks for your opinion?"
Pulling out of his thoughts, Jarod looked up, slightly startled and responded softly.
"Do what?"
"Play 'No, please, after you' until the other person either smacks you silly or takes charge themselves."
"I suppose I do... sometimes. It's how I was I was brought up."
"Where was that; a monastery?"
"You could say that. Why don't we sit for a while?"
"Okay."
The two men dropped to the couch facing each other and talked off and on until the disks that Mac had chosen played through and the first one began again, at which point he rose and shut the equipment down. Jarod's glass of tea sat nearly empty on the coffee table, and, to his amusement, Jarod found he was having a great deal of trouble keeping his eyes open.
"Okay, okay. So occasionally.... I'm wrong. It'll never happen again, so enjoy your gloat while you can." the younger man laughed.
"No gloating and I'll never tell, I promise."
Bringing a pillow and blanket from the closet, MacGyver handed them to his new friend, staying only long enough to assure himself the other was comfortable, then heading for his own bed, confident he'd done his good deed for the night.
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Mac woke early the next morning and stumbled out to the kitchen to find Jarod already up, a carafe of hot ginger tea steaming on the counter and a myriad of amazing aromas coming from the direction of the stove.
"Morning. What have I been smelling? It's making me insane with hunger."
"Egg-white omelet's with grilled veggies and tofu, seven grain toast and oven baked hash-browns."
"You're kidding. You didn't have to do this. Thanks."
"That's my line. Yesterday would have a miserable day for me to have spent alone, and you got me through it. Breakfast is the very least I could do." Jarod countered, sliding half of the egg dish onto a plate, retrieving the potatoes and adding a moderate mound before presenting the plate to his host.
"Mmmm! Heaven! Garlic?"
"In the potatoes and the eggs."
"Can I make an observation?"
"Of course." Jarod agreed as he poured Mac a mug of tea and refreshed his own.
"The suitcases under your eyes have shrunk to tote bags. You slept?"
"Yes, actually. For the first time in several years, I managed to go an entire night without waking up even once."
"Must be something mighty nasty to be comin' after you every night. I have a few of those myself."
Smiling lightly, Jarod studied the other man for a long moment, tipping his chin down to find and catch the gaze of the other man as he bent hungrily over his plate.
"I can see you do. The lecture tonight is another evening one, right?"
"Yeah. You auditing again?"
"If you don't mind, I'd enjoy it. Maybe between the breakfast dishes and the lecture we can find more time to talk?"
"I'm sure we can find a minute or two in the next seven hours. Talk about what?"
"You. I'd like to hear more about your life, the things you've survived that don't show in your eyes.... or just anything. It doesn't matter really."
Looking up, Mac sought out the other's face and found himself being drawn into the mystery and tragedy he sensed lay behind the dark eyes. Something he saw there confounded him. A thousand polar opposites lay cheek by jowl in those eyes; innocence and wisdom born of great pain, incredible strength and deep weariness, a tender, caring heart and an intimate knowledge of just what it took to freeze that heart when it was necessary to kill; all these existed together within this strange, complex young man.
Shaking loose from Jarod's gaze, Mac grinned at him sheepishly.
"I'm so sorry. That was just *incredibly* rude. What was the question?"
"There wasn't one, but I did want to ask what you do, besides teach, I mean."
"I'm retired. I used to work for a private foundation as kind of an all-purpose trouble-shooter." Mac told him, looking rather sadly at his empty plate, but knowing he would not ask for more.
Carrying his dish into the kitchen proper, he drew water for dishes as Jarod re-heated his meal and took it to a stool to eat while they continued talking.
A little while later the conversation moved back to the couch, the stereo was powered up again and the talk continued up to, and past, lunch.
"Unbelievable. He locked you both in the back of a truck, rigged it as a bomb, left you in a remote field.... and you're both still alive?"
"Sometimes I find it hard to believe myself."
"You've been through so much. How do you cope with it all?"
"I never thought about the process. I just.... do."
"Unbelievable." Jarod repeated, his expression distant and thoughtful. "Do you think that, if you understood why the magic works, how it happens.... it wouldn't be magic anymore?"
"I don't know. I hope not." Mac chuckled rising to answer the phone that had just begun to ring, listening more and more intently as whoever was on the other end continued speaking. "Yeah. I'll be there. No, not until after.... I don't know. ASAP? Is he that..... I understand. I'm on my way right now. Okay. Thank you. Bye."
When he returned to sit on the couch, MacGyver's expression was carefully composed, but Jarod could see intense grief and rage leaking out from beneath the mask of calm control. "I have to go out. Would you do me a big favor?" he asked, jotting shakily on a small pad. "Call this number and cancel the lecture for tonight."
"Of course I will. It... sounded bad. Do you need someone to be with you? A shoulder to lean on..."
"No. I'm close enough to falling apart as it is. If I lean on anyone.... I'm afraid I won't want to stand up straight again." Mac mumbled as he grabbed his jacket and car keys.
"What's happened?"
"A few days before we met... someone tried to kill my two best friends. One just died, the other is hanging on by what's left of his fingernails. I may not be back tonight. Feel free to raid the tea cabinet so you can sleep tonight. One of us should...."
Hearing the tears he was positive MacGyver would never show him, Jarod asked one last time.
"Please. You shouldn't drive. I'll do it. I won't come in with you.... just let me help."
Chin to his chest, MacGyver took a moment to settle himself, then realized Jarod was right. Trying to drive in his emotional state would land him in the hospital beside the only family he had left.
"Damn. Okay. Hollins Memorial. I'll direct you."
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A half hour or so later, Jarod sat in the hospital cafeteria with a cup of tea and the borrowed textbook, prepared to wait as long as he was needed. To his surprise Mac returned to join him after only fifteen minutes upstairs with his friend.
"Time to go."
"He isn't better."
"No. They don't expect him to last the night."
"Then you should stay. If you're not here when...."
"....it'll be easier on both of us. Can we go now please?"
"This isn't supposed to be easy, and it isn't about you. It's about the friendship you had with this man. If he does die tonight, you'll only have the one chance to say good-bye. If he doesn't, it might be your presence and your prayers that made the difference. Stay."
Mac paced a few steps away, was still for several minutes, then turned back abruptly.
"He was the closest I ever came to a father.... I mean, I had my Grandpa, but Pete was my dad. I was an arrogant, know-it-all science geek when I walked into the Phoenix Foundation. He taught me everything.... absolutely everything."
Rising, Jarod moved to comfort the other man, but he flinched away. "I'm okay. Like I said.... if I lean... I'll lose my balance."
Gently, Jarod tried again. This time Mac allowed the hand on his shoulder to stay.
"So you fall. What matters is having someone to be down there with you..... who'll give you a hand back up when you're ready to stand."
After another long stretch of minutes, MacGyver scrubbed his face with his hands and laughed quietly.
"You don't even know me. How can you offer to do that for a total stranger?"
"You got me drunk, let me stay on your couch and provided me the best nights sleep I've had in forever. I don't know what you call that, but it certainly isn't strangers in my book."
Laughing harder, the older man dropped an arm over Jarod's shoulder briefly.
"Maybe not. You're right, I guess. If I wasn't here to tell him.... I'd regret it for the rest of my life. I don't have any idea how long this could take....."
"I know. I'll take a cab back to the house and leave the car here for you."
"No way. I could never ask..."
"You aren't. I have no place here. You go to him. Here's my cell number. Call.... whichever way it turns out." Jarod told him, offering a business card.
"I will. Hey... what can I say? You've been amazing. Thanks. Why do I have a feeling I'll be saying that to you a lot in the future?"
"Hopefully, we both will. Get going. You might not have much time."
Smiling grimly, Mac turned and walked away, slipping Jarod's card into his pocket. Jarod found a pay phone, called for a cab and strolled outside to wait.
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