Haunting of Christmas Past

  Author's notes: No, this isn't Weardians and Witans. However, W&W is being extremely stubborn, so when I was tackled by this plot bunny, I thought I'd just go with the flow. Consider this a Christmas present to all the great people who have written to say how much they like my stories. You do not know how much encouragement that is for me.

  Also, due to time constraints, I'm afraid this didn't get the full beta treatment. I do apologize, and hope it is at least readable.

  I will tip my hat to my email pal Malu, who explained to me what 'mole' is.

  Warning: if you don't want Blair to be a detective, I'm afraid he will be for the rest of the TS/MacGyver series (with the exception of W&W). However, it is a very minor part of this story.

  Please do not reproduce, copy, or otherwise use any part of this story without permission from the author.

  Rated PG, mostly for language.

  THE HAUNTING OF CHRISTMAS PAST

  C. L. Combs

  1:30 p.m., December 22nd, Cascade Police Headquarters

  As Detective Jim Ellison parked his truck in the department's underground garage, his partner, Detective Blair Sandburg, again glanced at the packages between them. "You know, if you would have done your Christmas shopping early, we wouldn't have had to fight the crowds during our lunch break."

  Jim rolled his eyes as he popped open the door. "This is early. Late is Christmas Eve, which is when I usually do it."

  "Jim, Jim, Jim." Blair shook his head sadly as he joined his partner in front of the truck. "Early is before Thanksgiving. Look at me, I got most of mine done before December 3rd."

  "Yeah, that's because Hanukah started Dec 3rd." Jim tapped the back of Blair's head before stepping into the elevator.

  "True," Blair said with a chuckle. "There are advantages to being Jewish." He followed his partner inside. "Still, if you had done it last week, you would have had time to shop on-line."

  "No way, Chief. I'm not ready to hand over my credit card numbers to some geek in a warehouse."

  Blair shook his head. "Jim, Jim, Jim, most sites are perfectly safe. Am I ever going to get you into the 21st century before the millennium?"

  "Considering the next Millennium is in a couple of weeks, no."

  "Actually, the next millennium doesn't start until 2001. Just that people don't seem to remember that."

  "Nah, they'll just wait and have another big party next year."

  As more people entered the elevator, the detectives stood in comfortable silence. Both of which were broken the minute they entered the Major Crimes bullpen.

  "Sandburg! My office, now!" a deep voice yelled across the large room. Their boss, Captain Simon Banks, then returned to his domain.

  Jim turned to his partner. "What have you done, Chief?

  "Nothing that I know of," Blair replied worriedly.

  Jim followed him to the door, then glanced at Simon. The dark face was in more of a concerned frown than an upset one. When their eyes met, Simon tilted his head towards the other seat in his office. Oh, oh, what's going on here?

  Blair watched as his commanding officer, instead of walking back behind his desk, leaned against it in front of him. Reading the body language, he inquired worriedly, "What's wrong, Captain?"

  Simon took a deep breath, then gently asked, "Have you spoken with your father lately?"

  Blair blinked at the unexpected question. "We talked Thursday night. He had a bad cold, so we didn't talk very long." Then he asked anxiously, "Is Mac okay?"

  Simon held up a hand. "Easy, Blair."

  Blair. He called me Blair. "Simon, what's wrong?" Blair could feel the sudden tension tighten his stomach.

  Simon took another deep breath. He hated breaking bad news. "Sam hasn't reported in for three days. His news agency has listed him as missing."

  "Sam's missing?" Blair repeated, war images from the evening news and the CNN website flashing through his mind. "Do they know if he's still in Chechnya?" Jim placed his hand on his partner's shoulder, his own eyes filled with worry for his friend's photojournalist brother.

  "They believe so. The village where he and a CNN crew were staying was overrun by soldiers searching for rebels. No one knows what happened to the Americans."

  "Oh God," Blair breathed, running his hand through his curly hair.

  "Anything being done to find them?" Jim questioned, though he could guess at the answer.

  "Thornton said that the situation was too unstable. Right now it's a waiting game."

  Blair closed his eyes. It frightened him to think of what could happen to his easy-going brother in a war zone where either side could take offense at him. Then another thought struck him. "Why didn't Mac call me?"

  Simon leaned down further to meet the young man's eyes. "That's why Pete Thornton contacted me. He's worried about your father and figured Mac hadn't pulled himself together enough to call you yet."

  "Pull himself together?" Blair's brow wrinkled, trying to fit that into his image of his strong, reliable father. "What do you mean?"

  At that moment, the phone rang. Simon picked it up. "Banks... Yes, I've told him about Sam... Haven't gotten that far yet... He's right here. Let me put you on the speaker." Simon silently punched the proper buttons.

  "Blair?" Pete Thornton's voice floated into the room.

  "Yeah, I'm here," Blair answered. "What's going on with Mac?"

  A sigh was audible even over the phone line. "Blair, are you aware that December is a tough month for your father?"

  "Tough month? What do you mean?"

  "Did you know that MacGyver's mother, your grandmother, died on Christmas Eve?"

  Shocked, Blair raised his eyes to meet Jim's equally stunned ones. "No, I didn't know that."

  "MacGyver wasn't able to make it home for Christmas that year, so he has always felt guilty he wasn't there for her. Thus Christmas Eve has always been rough on him."

  "Oh man." Blair ran a hand over his face. He himself couldn't even imagine losing Naomi, let alone how hard it would be on a major holiday.

  "Also, when he was a boy, Mac's father and grandmother died on December 14. I've noticed over the years that Mac tends to be quiet and melancholy on that date as well."

  "Oh man," Blair moaned again. He jumped out of the chair and began to pace. "So to have Sam go missing at this time of the year... Oh, man, Mac must be wigging."

  "Not exactly," Pete replied forlornly. "MacGyver has planted himself in his living room and just stares at the phone. As far as we can tell, he's not eating, he's not sleeping, and only growls at anyone who darkens his door."

  "That doesn't sound like Mac," Jim interjected worriedly.

  "No, it isn't," Pete agreed. "Normally, Nikki and I would have to tie him to a chair to keep him from racing to Chechnya. But between his bad cold and the time of year, well, we are very worried. Which is why I called." Blair paused in his pacing. "Blair, we need, no, MacGyver needs you to come to Los Angeles. If nothing else, you can sit with him until he hears from Sam. If the worst happens, he's going to need you there. You may be the only one who can reach him."

  Blair looked at his Captain. "I'm scheduled to work through the weekend."

  Simon waved him off. "Go. This is a family emergency."

  "I can cover for you," Jim immediately put in. At his guide's worried glance, Jim added softly, "I'll be a good boy and not use my senses, Chief. You go and take care of your Dad."

  Blair turned to the speaker. "Okay, I'll be on the first flight there."

  Late evening, December 22nd

  Blair stared at the window as his plane made its approach to LAX. The Christmas travelers around him only deepened the sadness in his own heart. Man, here it is, my first visit to my father's home, and it takes Sam
being missing to bring me here. Why is it we only seem to get together when one of us is in trouble? I know Sam is okay, he HAS to be okay. But it takes something like this to force me to realize how much I don't know about Mac. He never told me his mother died on Christmas Eve. Hell, I don't even know HOW she died. Yet here he is, sending me Hanukah gifts and well wishes, and never once mentioning he was coming up on the anniversaries of the saddest events of his life. Doesn't he realize I'm here for him? That I want to make up for all the years we've lost? That I want to know everything about him while we still have time?

  You know, for being the youngest, Sam has got to be the smartest one in the family. He already knows that our time is short. What does it take to get that through mine and Dad's thick skulls? Losing Sam? Heaven forbid. Will Mac be happy I'm here? Mad? Will he let me help carry this load that's weighing so heavy on him? Will he let me be the strong one?

  Blair took a deep breath as the plane landed, wondering what the city of L.A. would hold for him.

  As Blair walked through the gate, his carry-on travel bag over his shoulder, he spotted Nikki Carpenter waving to him. Walking over to Mac's boss, he immediately asked, "Any word on Sam?"

  Nikki shook her head, her dark hair with strands of gray shifting around her shoulders. "No, nothing yet. With the increase in fighting and the new coolness between the US and Russia, it's hard to get information. Pete and I have sent word through some of our non-government contacts, but the situation is pretty confusing over there."

  "Leave it to Sam to find the hottest spot to be assigned to," Blair muttered as he followed Nikki to her car. "I mean, I know he can take care of himself, but that doesn't mean I don't worry about him sometimes."

  Nikki's dark eyes were filled with concern. "That's what MacGyver normally says. But this time..." her voice traveled off as she unlocked the car.

  Blair slipped in through the other side once Nikki had unlocked the doors. "This whole situation confuses me. Mac always seems so in control, doing something, doing anything, except just sitting around being depressed."

  Nikki inserted her keys into the ignition, then paused. "Pete and I have only seen your father like this once before. It wasn't pretty."

  "What happened?"

  Nikki closed her eyes a moment. "Several years ago, your father was mountain climbing with a friend..."

  "Mountain climbing?" Blair interrupted, "Mac? I thought he was scared of heights?"

  "Yes, but MacGyver gets into these, 'Let's overcome my fear by doing something stupid' moods," Nikki chuckled in spite of herself. "I think he thinks that if he goes climbing enough, he'll lose his fear of heights."

  "Has it worked yet?" Blair asked with a smile.

  "Not that I can tell. But then, I'm sure that particular trip didn't help matters any." Nikki's face turned serious as she pondered on her memories. "He had gone with his friend, Mike Forrester. She was an expert climber, familiar with the route, and MacGyver trusted her. Pete said they had known each other since college and were the very best of friends. Unfortunately, when they were nearing the top of the vertical face, Mike fell. Mac held onto her rope for dear life, but Mike's harness gave way. The fall killed her. MacGyver was so traumatized, they had to send a rescue helicopter to get him off the mountain."

  Blair closed his eyes, all too easily picturing his father on a high mountain ledge, grieving for a friend and too terrified to climb down on his own.

  "Afterwards, Mac blamed himself. He holed up in Pete's cabin nearby and simply refused to leave. He missed Mike's funeral. He wouldn't talk to anyone, even Pete. It was like the light went out of him. It hurt to see him like that."

  Sounds like one bad bout of depression. "How'd he get out of it?"

  Nikki rolled her eyes. "I'd like to say it was due to my logical arguments and forceful nature, but I can't. It took Murdoc showing up at the door waving a flame thrower in our faces to break him out of it."

  Blair barely repressed a shudder. "I'd rather not have to go to that extreme again."

  "Me, neither. But it's bad, Blair. I think because he's lost almost his entire family at this time of the year, MacGyver has nearly convinced himself that Sam is gone, too. And that's tearing him apart."

  "Sam's NOT gone," Blair stated forcefully.

  "I hope you can convince your father of that," Nikki replied as she started the car. "But I won't lie to you-- you have a difficult job ahead. While Pete seems to think you can get through to him, MacGyver might just kick you out the door the minute you arrive."

  Blair swallowed hard. "I won't let him. He needs me, whether he wants to admit it or not."

  Nikki gave him a smile of encouragement. "Good for you. Stick to your guns, and you might be able to force him to listen."

  The rest of the trip was made in silence as Blair pondered how to approach his father. When the car stopped, Blair looked up to see that they were at a small apartment complex. He could hear the surf as he stepped out of the car. Bet that's a soothing sound when Mac's had a tough day. I wonder if Jim could differentiate between the different wave actions or estimate how tall the waves are? The thought of his sentinel calmed his nerves, providing some grounding in his current swirl of emotions.

  "I'd go up with you, but I fear that might aggravate the situation," Nikki was saying as she dug around in her purse. She pulled out a keychain with a single key dangling from it. "Here's Pete's key. MacGyver gave him a spare in case of emergencies, and he figured this qualifies." She handed him the key. "It's number 5, on the third floor, southwest corner." As Blair turned to go, Nikki gently touched his sleeve. "If you need ANYTHING, from another voice of reason to a place to crash, give me a call."

  "Thanks, Nikki," Blair acknowledged softly. "You may be hearing from me."

  "Any time, day or night. I'm worried about him, too."

  Blair nodded, wondering if MacGyver realized how much his friends cared about him.

  It wasn't hard to find apartment number 5. Blair knocked on the door, then waited. After no answer, he used Pete's key to let himself in. As he noticed the messy kitchen to his right, a hoarse, nasally voice croaked out, "I told you to leave me alone, Pete. So just turn around and go out the way you came in."

  Taking a deep breath, Blair followed the voice a couple of steps into the next room. Normally, it would have been a warm, friendly area. Among various half-finished projects, there were two comfortable couches facing a picture window that Blair guessed looked out over the ocean. Yet today, the drawn curtain was in keeping with the dark gloom that hung heavy in the air. On the couch, facing away from Blair, sat a still figure.

  "Pete! Leave!" the voice snapped.

  "I'm not Pete and I'm not leaving," Blair replied as casually as he could muster. He dropped his bag in the hallway and walked around the couch.

  Even with all the warning and preparation, Blair was shocked by what he saw. Used Kleenex covered the cushions, end table and floor except for a clear spot surrounding a phone resting on the coffee table. MacGyver himself looked awful, with a red nose, pale skin under three days worth of beard, and hair sticking up every which way. But the worst were the dark eyes staring lifelessly at him. "Blair? Why aren't you in Cascade?" Even the voice was monotone, as if Blair's sudden appearance was nothing more than a mild curiosity.

  Blair continued to study his father as he quietly pointed out, "Because Sam's my brother. Apparently the only way I can get information is to come here, since you haven't called me."

  Blair knew his answer had scored when the hooded eyes dropped to the floor. "Didn't want you to worry," the hoarse voice offered.

  "I think I have the right to worry."

  "Besides, Jim needs you."

  "Jim's a big boy who can take care of himself for a few days. I'm not sure I can say the same for you right now." Blair glanced around a moment before spying a small wastebasket next to the computer and work bench in the corner.

  "I thought you had to work Christmas."

  Blair began scooping Kleenex
into the basket. "Simon gave me the time off."

  "Blair, you don't have to be here."

  "Yes, I do." Blair turned around sharply, then regained the hold on his temper. "When I agreed to be a part of your family, that included the bad times as well as the good times. You need me, I'm here, that's that."

  "I'm all right," the croaking voice insisted. "I just want to be alone."

  "Mac, trust me on this one. You looked better when you had malaria." Wastebasket overflowing, Blair headed for the kitchen in search of something bigger. Emptying the basket into the kitchen trash, he walked back to find Mac in the same position he'd left him in. "Have you moved out of that spot at all today?"

  Eyes still down, Mac growled, "None of your business."

  Blair laughed lightly as he finished picking up. "Yes, it is, and you'll have to do better with the scary growl. Jim can top that one without even breaking into a sweat." Sitting on the coffee table opposite of Mac, Blair gently laid a hand on Mac's forehead. Mac swatted it away, but not before his son felt the heat radiating from him. "Dad, you have a fever. Have you taken anything for it today?" After a moment of silence, Blair sighed. "I'll take that as a no." He stood up and began his search. A few minutes later, he was back with a glass of orange juice and a couple of tablets.

  "I thought I told you to leave," Mac grumbled.

  "No, you told Pete to leave," Blair returned as he perched on the coffee table again. "Now take these."

  "No."

  "Yes."

  Dark eyes lifted to stare sullenly at Blair. "Leave, Blair. Please."

  Blair again struggled with his own rising temper before answering, "I'm staying. Accept it and take these." Blair leaned forward to hand the pills and the glass to Mac, only to have Mac's hands stay maddeningly by his legs.

  "Blair, leave. People around me tend to die."

  Anger evaporated as understanding lit Blair's mind. "Mac, people die every day whether they're close to you or not. I'm not going to keel over simply because I'm sitting here."

  "I want you safe."

  Blair couldn't contain his bark of laughter. "Do you honestly think I'm safer in Cascade? Hell, Jim calls it the most dangerous city in America."