COATLICUE

  Author's note: Coatlicue is a sequel to 'The Maze', and 'Control', which are Sentinel/MacGyver crossovers. You may want to read the others first. I do want to extend my thanks to: Sharon, for all her continuing support; Zadra, for helping me keep my sense of humor; Laura P., for helping me out of the corner I had written myself into, and Tonya, for posting it and correcting all my grammar and spelling errors (dirty job, but someone has to do it J) . If there are any left, they are all my fault. Please send any comments to spacecloud@juno.com

  Enjoy the ride.

  Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. I'm borrowing them out of deep reverence, affection and respect. I will accept only personal fulfillment, and no monetary gain. If you do sue, you will not get much, and I will send over my Black Lab mix, who will stare at you pathetically for hours, and probably con you out of all your food.

  Rated PG-13, mostly for language.

  COATLICUE

  C. L. Combs

  In a quiet corner of the lecture hall, a brown-haired young man quietly watched the animated teacher in front, waving his hands to make a point. Katie had said Mr. Sandburg gave awesome lectures. Upon first spying the attractive young teacher, he had teased her of enjoying the view more than listening. Yet the teacher had surprised him, talking both intelligently and with an energy that made you excited over the material as well. "I should have known," the young man thought with amusement. "People connected to Dad are always interesting surprises." In some ways, Sandburg reminded him of his father when he was excited over some archeologically significant find. Dad was an excellent teacher, except that Dad was too laid back to show that much energy.

  His thoughts wandered to the small statue tucked in his camera case. He knew Mrs. Farrell had told him about it, but he honestly didn't think he could even pronounce it's name. The least he could do in memory of the dear woman was to learn its history. Plus, it gave him an excuse to meet the young anthropologist Dad had told him about. He hadn't even told Katie that he planned to meet Sandburg. It was pure coincident that she had a class with him.

  Blair made his point, then dismissed the students. He covertly watched the stranger with Katie Donnelly take another look at him before following the young woman out. It wasn't often that Blair had visitors to his classes, and it always made him nervous. The man was about his age, maybe a little younger, maybe a student. He didn't look old enough to be a reviewer, or CIA, or have a grudge against his roommate. Maybe he was just visiting. Blair shoved the folder full of viewgraphs into his backpack, and headed out the door.

  Approaching Hargrove Hall, Blair spotted Miss Donnelly and her friend up ahead. Movement to his left drew Blair's attention. Two large men in their thirties wearing dark jackets were totally out of place in the campus environment. They were approaching Miss Donnelly and her friend. An uneasy feeling grew in Blair as he picked up his pace.

  "This is the Social Sciences building, where Mr. Sandburg's office is." Katie waved her hand like a tour guide. As the young man turned to comment, huge hairy arms grabbed her. Before he could help, he was grabbed from behind and roughly slammed into a cement planter.

  Witnessing the struggle, Blair started to run. "Get away from them!" he yelled as he saw the taller one empty a syringe into the guy's neck. As the young man started to slump, Blair swung his backpack, loaded with books, into the goon's face. The man howled, holding his nose. The second, realizing they were attracting attention, dropped the struggling, crying girl on the steps. Both ran.

  "Call campus 911!" Blair shouted at students drawn to the commotion. Sobbing hysterically, Katie crawled over to the young man laying by the planter. Blair knelt beside them.

  "Sean? Sean? Can you hear me?" Katie cried, cradling his head in her lap.

  "Easy, Katie," Blair soothed. Gently checking her friend over, Blair pulled off his flannel shirt, and used it to apply pressure to a large, bleeding gash in his left arm. He glanced at the girl next to him, "Are you okay?"

  Through the tears, Katie whimpered, "My, my ankle hurts."

  "Okay, try not to move it until someone can look at it." Blair glanced back down, "Who is he?"

  "Like, like my brother, " the girl hiccuped. "My parents took him in when his mom died."

  "He's going to be okay, Katie." Blair tried to reassure her. "Do you know what they wanted?"

  Katie shook her head. "Se-Sean is a photo journalist, but, but, hiccup, he's off-off assignment now. We, we were going to, to talk with you sniffle. He, he inherited this hiccup ugly statue from an old neighbor lady."

  At that moment, the EMTs arrived, followed closely by Suzanne Tomacki. Blair gave the medics all the information he had, and backed up. So, they were coming to talk with him before they were attacked. Studying the unconscious young man, Blair realized he seemed familiar. "I'd better follow up on this," Blair thought to himself. That was when Suzanne approached him.

  Jim Ellison's tension eased when he spotted his roommate sitting in the waiting room uninjured. Suzanne had told him Blair was okay, but after having spent hours worrying over his friend in hospitals, Jim felt better seeing it with his own eyes.

  Removing the trace of relief from his face, Jim approached him. "Hey, Blair."

  Blair looked up, and smilingly nodded his head in greeting, "Hi Jim. Thanks for coming."

  "Well, since Suzanne believes this may be an attempted kidnapping, we've been called in on the case. Simon should be here soon." Then Jim stared down at Blair, forcing a stern look on his face, "Mind telling me what happen?"

  Blair quickly filled him in on all that he knew. Jim could only shake his head, envisioning his slim friend scaring off two muscle men with only his backpack. Blair's unthinking courage sometimes scared him. Pushing back his thoughts, Jim asked, "Why are you waiting here?"

  "The doctor is still in with the guy who was attacked. They gave Katie a sedative after wrapping her ankle, so I thought maybe he might appreciate seeing a semi-familiar face when he wakes up." Blair knew how disorienting waking up in a hospital bed could be.

  Before Jim could respond, the doctor stepped out and told Blair he could go in. Jim quickly showed the doctor his badge. "I'm Detective Ellison. How is he?"

  "Mr. Malloy has suffered various contusions and a gashed left forearm that required seventeen stitches. He is currently sleeping off the drug administered to him during the attack, but we feel he should wake up in the next half hour. We plan to send him home soon after that. You can get his statement then."

  Jim thanked him, then quietly pulled back the curtain to glance in. Blair was settling down in the chair next to the bed, an anthropology journal in his hands. Malloy was still sleeping soundly. Something about the young man's face did seem familiar, but like Blair, Jim couldn't place it.

  Turning, Jim walked down to the phone bank. Within minutes, he had Suzanne Tomacki on the line, and quickly updated her on the campus victims' injuries. "Do you have any more information on the attack?"

  "Nothing much. I have several eye witness descriptions of the two assailants, but they either conflict or are very vague. At the moment, I'm going with Blair's, due to his police experience."

  "What do you have on the victims?"

  "Well, Miss Kathryn Donnelly is the only child of a columnist and a Seattle reporter, who are divorced. Neither seem rich enough to be ransom targets. I suppose one possibility may be an abduction connected with their work. It would be a good question to ask them."

  "The young man is a Mr. Sean A. Malloy. I have managed to track down the news service who employs him. His boss says he shows great promise, tackling difficult international assignments with good results, especially if they deal with human rights. She said he isn't working on anything at the moment, however."

  Jim glanced back at the curtain. "How about family?"


  "All we have is a card in his wallet with an emergency number. The hospital called that, and left a message. His boss said she has the same emergency number. She believes his father travels a lot."

  Jim frowned. "No mention of the Donnellys?"

  "No, why?"

  "Nothing, only Blair thought there was a connection. Just keep me posted." Jim hung up the phone, puzzled. If Malloy was 'like a brother' to Miss Donnelly, why didn't he have either of her parents listed as an emergency contact? And why did the kid seem so familiar?

  Blair glanced up when the patient began to move. Disoriented brown eyes gazed in confusion at the room, then settled on him, blinking.

  Giving him his best reassuring smile, Blair answered the question in his eyes. "It's okay. You're in the hospital. I'm..."

  "Sandburg," the young man finished hoarsely. "I remember." Still blinking, Malloy was glancing around the room again when he suddenly sat up. "Katie!"

  "She's okay, she's okay." Blair gently soothed. "She has a cracked ankle bone from falling on the stairs, but she is okay. The doctors gave her something so she could sleep."

  Malloy closed his eyes again, and released a deep breath. Gingerly, he cradled his arm as he shifted back into the bed.

  "Like some water?" Blair offered.

  Malloy opened his eyes again, and faintly smiled. "Yeah, thanks."

  Blair poured the water, trying to grasp why the smile seemed so familiar. Handing the glass to Malloy, Blair decided to start a conversation. "Katie said you had a statue you wanted me to see?"

  Malloy took a sip through the straw, giving Blair a cautious look. "Yeah, but I didn't tell her the statue was more of an excuse to meet you."

  Puzzled, Blair tried to read the other man's expression, who in turn seemed to be waiting for Blair's reaction. "Why?"

  "Oh, Dad had mentioned you," Malloy explained with a shrug, "so since I was going to be in town, I thought I'd look you up. Then I inherited the statue, and Dad had said you knew about Central and South American cultures. So I thought I'd see if you knew anything about the Aztec culture."

  Blair was struggling to recall if he had met an older man named Malloy. Was that why Sean looked familiar? "Yeah, I know a little..." Before Blair could continue, voices from the hall intruded.

  "Is my baby girl going to be all right?" A woman's voice asked anxiously.

  "What I want to know is, why does the University allow that type of person on campus to attack helpless girls!" A deeper voice demanded.

  "Damn," Malloy swore softly. He struggled to climb out of bed.

  "Hey, chill man," Blair tried to stop him. "You shouldn't be trying to walk around before the doctor checks you out."

  "That's Katie's parents out there. They hate each other's guts, can be very demanding and rude, and will probably have the whole hospital in an uproar if I don't try to calm them down."

  "What do you mean Sean is here? Why wasn't I notified?" The female voice rose.

  Blair shifted gears, and helped Malloy out of bed.

  Outside, Jim was seated next to the curtain, quietly watching the exchange between the hospital staff, his captain Simon Banks, and Miss Donnelly's parents. He had been hearing Ms. Jordan whine worriedly about her daughter, Mr. Donnelly grumbling about hospital expenses and whether they could sue, and the couple taking potshots at each other all the way from the lobby. He was beginning to understand young Malloy's reluctance in contacting them.

  "I believe an emergency number for the young man was called," the nurse told them anxiously, trying desperately to quiet them down.

  'No one called me!" Ms. Jordan exclaimed.

  The door opened, and Malloy, followed by Blair, stepped out. "I'm fine, Maggie."

  "Oh, you poor baby! What number did you stupid people call?"

  "Number?" Malloy repeated, then Jim saw a light turn on. "Oh, man, you called my Dad?"

  "You had them call your FATHER!" Ms. Jordan exclaimed.

  "Your father never paid a dime to support you. We raised you." Mr. Donnelly declared self-righteously.

  "Mom's life insurance supported me," Malloy refuted softly, but Jim could hear the steel in his voice. "Dad didn't know about me then."

  Simon was disliking this situation more by the minute. "Why don't we sit down, and discuss the matter at hand?"

  "Well, your FATHER knows about you now, so where is he?" Donnelly continued, ignoring Banks.

  "Sam's father is on a plane over the Atlantic as we speak. He should be here in the morning," a quietly confident voice replied. Turning in mass, everyone focused their attention on the man behind them.

  "Mr. Thornton?" Simon called in confusion, walking towards him. Jim and Blair glanced at each other as the pieces fell into place. Sean A. Malloy, a photojournalist, whose father traveled a lot, knew Pete Thornton, and had mentioned Blair. Malloy had to be MacGyver's son, Sam. Glancing back at the young man, Jim realized it was the resemblance to Mac that Blair and he couldn't place.

  The same young man who was currently staring at Thornton with consternation. "Oh, man, you called him in Greece? Dad had been looking forward to that dig with Prof. Atticus and Dr. Carson for months."

  Pete gently smiled back in the direction of Sam's voice. "He worries about you, Sam. Besides, Mac hadn't left Britain yet."

  "Oh, man," Sam muttered. He was even paler now than when he had first stepped out of his room, and Jim was becoming concerned.

  "Well, you will return to the hotel with me in the meantime," Donnelly said huffily.

  "With YOU? He will return WITH ME..." Ms. Jordan started.

  "Actually," Blair piped in, feeling the growing tension in Sam, "Sam has accepted my invitation to stay at our place." Sam secretly shot Blair a grateful look.

  "WHAT!" Ms. Jordan exclaimed.

  "That's right," Jim cut in, supporting the two younger men. "Since we don't know the motive behind the attack, Sam will be safer staying with us." And probably get a lot more rest.

  "Exactly WHO are YOU?" Mr. Donnelly demanded.

  "Detective Ellison works for me," Simon informed him forcefully. "Mr. Sandburg, " as Simon gestured towards Blair, " is the university teacher who rescued your daughter and Mr. Malloy. He also works as a consultant for my department. Mr. Malloy will be perfectly safe with them for the night." Simon ushered the couple out of the waiting area.

  Once they were out of earshot, Sam turned to Blair and Jim. "Thanks. You do not know how much I appreciate this."

  "No sweat," Blair gave him a smile. "Sounded like you needed a way out."

  "And I meant it about keeping an eye on you, until we know more," Jim added. He glanced around. "Let's get you checked out, and off your feet."

  "I'll go find the doctor," Blair volunteered as he trotted down the hall.

  "And I am glad to hear you are in capable hands," Pete Thornton smiled. He held out his hand in Jim's direction, "I'm Pete Thornton. You must be the Det. Ellison I've heard so much about."

  Jim shook his hand. "Yes, but you can call me Jim. Blair and Simon have mentioned you, too." Gently, Jim laid his hands on both Pete's and Sam's shoulders. "Why don't you escort Sam back into his bed, before he gets in trouble from the doctor?"

  Pete chuckled, as Sam tucked his arm around Pete's, and ducked back behind the curtain. Jim glanced around the hall again, but kept his hearing focused on them.

  "Sam, do you think this was Murdoc?" Jim frowned as he noted the stress in Thornton's voice.

  "No. From what Dad has said, Murdoc's style is too elaborate to include an attack by two goons."

  Thornton's heartbeat eased, and the two discussed other things. Jim relaxed his focus. He made a mental note to find out who Murdoc was.

  Jim glanced over the rail in his room as he finished pulling on his sweatshirt. Sam was falling sleep on the couch, arm cradled against his chest, while Blair was changing sheets in his room. The sounds of Sam's steady breathing and Blair's activity were comforting to him, knowing they were safe. While that feeling tow
ards Blair was familiar, why did Jim feel so protective of Sam? Was it the resemblance to MacGyver? Jim admitted that he felt a great debt to the older man. Yet, it had been there before Jim had connected Malloy to Mac. Was that something that made Jim so comfortable with Mac also present in his son?

  Wisps of memory from the cave again taunted him. During the time his senses were heightened by a drug to dangerous levels, Jim felt he had known why he instinctively trusted MacGyver. Yet he couldn't seem to grasp it now, even with Blair's help.

  He glanced back down to Sam. Why had someone tried to abduct him? Since it was Sam who had been injected with the knockout drug, it was probable that he was the intended victim, not Katie. Did it have to do with his work as a journalist, or his father's work? Jim worried enough about Blair getting fallout for being his friend - how much worse would it be with a son? Remembering Simon's face when Kincaid had Daryl hung out a window answered that question.

  From what little MacGyver had said about Sam, Jim had had the impression they were close. It surprised him when Sam mentioned he had only found Mac five years ago. Yet the bond Sam felt for his father had been evident in his voice, and in his defense of Mac at the hospital. Jim paused a moment, wondering what it would be like to have a father you could be close to.

  Walking out of his room, Blair proclaimed, "All set!"

  Sam gave him a sleepy frown from the couch, "I didn't mean to kick you out of your bed."

  Blair shrugged as he headed for the kitchen. "No prob. You are going to be sore enough tomorrow without trying to cram onto the couch all night. I'm shorter, it won't be as bad for me. You hungry?"

  Chuckling at the speed with which Blair talked, Sam drawled, "Yeah, a little."

  "Then I'll get to work on supper."

  Sam heaved himself off the couch and followed Blair. Blair turned back, "You don't have to help. Catch some Zs."

  Sam shook his head. "If I do that, I'll never get to sleep tonight." Sam pulled a chair out and sat so he could watch Blair work.

  Blair shrugged his shoulders, and filled up a pot. "Okay. So, how did you get nicknamed Sam?"