by Cindy Combs
"...would hurry up. It's cold out here."
"I wish I knew how many were in there."
"After the agents leave, that should leave maybe two cops, the man, and the boy. Once we neutralize the men, we'll grab the boy. The Deadly Rose will have to come out of hiding for her son."
Cory took a deep breath. The voices had to belong to Sam's attackers. Once inside the lobby, he turned to Naomi. "Will you do me a favor? Tell Jim to meet me down here."
Naomi turned to him, confused. "Whatever for?"
Cory gave her a tight smile. "Small problem. And tell Indy and Olsen to watch their six."
"Indy and Olsen?" Naomi asked.
"They'll know."
Ellison's loft
"No, I don't know where Roxie is," Sam repeated wearily. The CIA agents never seemed to tire of asking him the same question in a different way, as if his answer was going to be any different from the other 57 times he'd answered it.
However, it could be worse. Sam knew that if it wasn't for the respect the agents held for his father standing behind him, their questions would have been rougher. Jim's icy glare from the other side probably helped, too. He glanced into the kitchen, hearing Blair banging pots. His brother had tossed in some friendly interference earlier, but was now taking his own frustration out on starting dinner.
The older agent, Mr. Grey, pulled his papers together. "Well, I think that will be all for now, Mr. Malloy. Just don't leave town until we contact you again." Sam barely kept his eyes from rolling. "We will take the child now and be out of your hair."
"Excuse me?" Sam wasn't sure he had heard what he just thought he heard. Jim's soft growl informed him that he had.
"We will take custody of Deadly Rose's son."
"What?" Blair surged from the kitchen.
"The hell you will," Jim growled at the same time.
"The boy is staying here," MacGyver quietly informed them.
"With all due respect, Mr. MacGyver," replied the younger agent, Mr. Smith, as he ignored the cops. "Ian Scott is part of our investigation and we will have him."
A rage Sam had never felt before boiled up from his chest. Fighting for control, he stood up. "His birth certificate says Ian Scott Malloy." He glared at the agents as everyone fell silent, feeling the rare chill in his voice. "He is MY son, MY responsibility, and he stays with ME."
"Mr. Malloy, we can protect him better than you," Mr. Smith informed him.
Sam lifted an eyebrow as he crossed his arms. "I feel a lot safer here than any place you'd care to take us. And it would be 'us'. If Ian goes, I go."
"Mr. Malloy, this has nothing to do with you." Mr. Grey explained patiently.
"Yes, it does," Sam insisted. "I have every right to say no. If you disagree, you can speak with our lawyer."
"Arrangements are already under way," Mac quietly pointed out, hiding his proud smile.
"We have no proof that the boy is yours," Mr. Smith pointed out snidely.
"The birth certificate is legit," Jim informed him, his more experienced icy voice finishing what Sam's had started. "Which you should know, if you are any good at detecting. You will need to disprove Sam's paternity, and you can't. The boy stays here."
For a moment, the agents stared at the united front of Sam, Mac, Jim and Blair. Even Jack Dalton, who had been hiding out in the living room with a magazine, had approached the kitchen willing to lend his support.
Then there was a knock on the door. Jim tilted his head a moment, then sneezed. Blair's eyes widened, realizing the implication. He walked to the door, glanced through the peephole, and opened it. "Hi, Mom."
"Hi, Sweetie," Naomi greeted brightly, totally unaware of the tension in the room. She gave her son a big hug.
"Ah, Mom..." Blair began.
"Oh, Jim!" Naomi turned to the big man, ignoring the others in the room. "Cory told me to tell you to meet him downstairs."
"Cory? Sam's partner?" Mac asked.
"Oh, hi, Mac. Yes, that Cory. We met on the plane. And he wanted me to say something else." Naomi thought a moment to make sure she got it right. "'Tell Indy and Olsen to watch their sixth'? Sixth what?"
Sam and Blair exchanged glances. "Six, Mom," Blair explained. "He's telling us to watch our backs."
"Cory spotted trouble," Sam added worriedly. He took a step towards the door. Mac immediately threw his arm out to prevent Sam from leaving.
Jim was already grabbing his jacket from the hook by the door. "I'm on it. Sandburg, you stay here and guard Sam and Ian."
"I'm with you," Mac replied, giving Sam a 'you stay here' look before heading out the door. The agents followed without speaking.
Naomi stared at the closing door. "How rude."
"They're not paid to be friendly, Mom," Blair explained as he set the deadbolt.
Naomi turned and spotted Dalton. "Jack," she greeted stiffly.
"Naomi," Jack returned just as stiffly.
Rolling his eyes, Blair walked over to the balcony to close the blinds. With his back to his mother, he double checked that his gun was still tucked in his waistband under his sweatshirt. He returned to the kitchen. "By the way, why are you here, Mom? I thought you were helping Gail and Digger in Boulder."
Naomi turned, a huge smile on her face. "I want to meet my grandson."
Sam sent a confused look at Dalton, who just shrugged. He never tried to figure out Naomi. It only gave him a headache.
Blair stared at his mother. "Ah, Mom, Ian is Sam's son, not mine. I'm sure I told you that."
Naomi placed her hands on her hips, giving him her 'don't mess with me' stare. "And when are YOU going to make me a grandmother?"
Turning bright red, Blair stuttered, "Ah... well... ah..."
"Exactly! And Sam's your brother, so that makes us family." Naomi turned to Sam. "Do you mind, Honey? I'm sure you have all sorts of questions about raising kids, and it's a grandmother's job to help answer them."
Amused to see his brother caught so off-guard, Sam solemnly replied, "No, ma'am. I'd like Ian to have a Grandma."
"Then it's settled, except I want you to call me Naomi. Where is he?"
"Taking a nap," Blair managed, still red.
Sam glanced at the clock, surprised at the time. "Shouldn't he be awake by now?" He walked to Blair's bedroom.
Naomi looked at Blair. "How long has he been in there?"
"A couple of hours."
"Have you child-proofed your room?"
"I put up the clay pots and figurines."
"You've barely started, then."
"IAN!"
Blair dashed to the bedroom door, hand slipping under his shirt, with Naomi and Jack on his heels. Sam was kneeling on the floor next to his son, holding a pen out of reach. The toddler was looking guilty, lip starting to stick out. Sam raised his eyes. "I hope you weren't attached to your tape player." He picked up a piece of plastic. Blair was shocked to realize it was from the cassette player he used to take notes.
Ian looked up at him, eyes huge. "I wanna see how the light wook, Unca Bear."
Naomi started laughing. "They're right, you know. Grandchildren are your revenge on your children." Blair glared at her. "Sweetie, do you remember how many of my things you took apart to see how they worked when you were his age? I never did get that old radio working again."
"I'll buy you a new one," Sam promised.
Blair simply shook his head. "Guess it's better than following the MacGyver tradition and breaking my arm."
Standing near the elevator, Cory looked up when Jim exited into the lobby. He nodded at Mac, glanced at the agents briefly, then reported to Jim, "There are three of them, standing in the entry for that bakery."
Jim nodded as he pulled out his gun. "It should be empty this time of night."
Mac, quietly checking out the state of two sentinels, asked, "How do we play it?"
"Hold it," Smith interrupted. "This is our case and we're in charge."
Cory, noting Jim's fuming face, asked, "Gary, is that you?"
Smith's head swiveled to the other man. "Buchanan? What are you doing here?"
"Malloy's my partner at Phoenix." He smirked at him. "And I would strongly suggest you listen to Ellison. He's better at this than any of us."
The two agents stared at Jim in surprise. Smugly, Jim began, "Now that we know where we stand..."
It was over in a matter of minutes. Cory casually walked towards the bakery, sentinel senses aware of the others positioning themselves. He stopped in front of the men. "Excuse me, do you have the time?"
One of the men glared at him. "Move on."
Cory shrugged. "Can't do that."
The man swore in Spanish. "Of course you can."
With exaggerated sadness, Cory shook his head again. "Nah, Jim would get mad at me."
"Who's Jim?" one of the others asked.
"Me." Jim aimed his gun at the man's face. "Freeze, Cascade PD."
The two agents popped up on the other side. "Federal agents. You are under arrest."
The third man drew a knife from his coat. The darkness hid it from the agents, but not from sentinel sight. Cory spun backwards in a circular kick, knocking the knife out of the man's hands. The next move forced the man to the ground, Cory snarling in his face. "Try something else, and I'll remember that you were shooting at my partner and my soon-to-be godson last night." The man wisely froze.
Jim simply smirked in approval. "You have the right to remain silent. If you waive this right, anything you say may be used against you--"
"Wait a minute, they're our suspects," Smith objected.
"My jurisdiction," Jim pointed out before continuing, "--in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you can't afford an attorney--"
"Detective Ellison," Grey began.
"If you can take Ian, Jim can arrest these men," Mac drawled, picking up on Jim's intent. Cory gave him a sharp look.
"--an attorney will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights?" The suspects simply looked between Jim and the agents in confusion.
"This is our case," Smith pointed out.
Cory shot the agent a cool look. "Jim, with this crew you'd better do the Spanish version."
As Jim opened his mouth to start in Spanish, Grey jumped in. "Okay, okay, you keep the kid and we get the suspects."
MacGyver's mouth pulled into a smug smile. "You've got a deal."
Dinner was an impromptu but lively affair. Blair's pasta casserole, along with peas and toasted bread, was perfect for the cool evening. Everyone was in high spirits, talking about everything from the latest movies to their worst Christmas gift. Even Dalton and Naomi were tolerating each other. Jim couldn't remember a better meal.
Unfortunately, things were going down hill for Sam and Ian. The toddler, who had shown a fairly sunny disposition all day, was becoming whiny and cranky. Sam's patience was being rigorously tested.
"No mas." The toddler's lower lip was jutting out as he rubbed his eyes, his face, hands, and hair covered with cheese sauce.
Sam forced back a sigh. "Just one more bite of peas."
"I want Nana."
"Nana's not getting you out of this one. Just one more bite."
Ian abruptly slammed his hand on the plate, knocking the spoon and peas into the air. Sam ran a hand over his own face, smearing a dab of sauce along his cheek. He gently turned the stubborn face towards him. "Ian, that was..." Then Sam stopped, looking at the child closely. "You feeling okay, Buddy?"
Jim and Cory shifted their attention to Sam. "What's wrong?" Cory asked.
"His eyes look red and his face feels kinda warm," Sam replied, threading his fingers soothingly through the blond curls. "Hey, buddy, look at me a minute."
Ian looked at his father, his eyes tearing. "I don't wanna be bad."
"It's okay, buddy. Are you feeling sick?"
Jim reached over to gently lay the back of his hand on the small face. "He does feel like he has a fever." He tilted his head a moment. "He sounds congested."
"A cold?" Sam asked, worried.
Naomi suddenly appeared at his elbow. "I'd say so. Kids pick up any little germ floating around, and you two have had a trying couple of days."
Sam looked even more lost. "What do I do?"
"That's where Grandma Naomi comes in with her advice." She looked at Blair down the table. "Do you have any of Obie's herbal rub in the house?"
Blair stood up and nodded. "Obie left me some more the last time he was here."
"Good. That should be safe enough for him. You'll also need to get some Children's Tylenol for the fever."
"They do make children's cough syrup, too, right?" Jim asked.
Mac was grabbing his jacket. "I'm on it."
"I'm with you," Jack added, picking up his own leather pilot's jacket. "I noticed a drugstore just down the street."
Naomi held out her arms to the boy. "Why don't Daddy and I give you a bath, Sweetie?" Ian climbed up out of the chair and into Naomi's embrace. She smiled at the worried father. "Go get his pajamas, and we'll tuck him in when we're done. Blair, Honey, do you have any baby shampoo?" The troops mobilized, the redhead carried the little boy to the bathroom.
As everyone was scrambling, Cory leaned towards Jim. "Is that sort of whistling sound in Ian's lungs normal for a sick kid?"
Jim shrugged. "I hear it occasionally with a sick adult, but I'm not around sick kids much. I'm just worried about how sudden all this came up."
Cory frowned. "What should we do?"
"Monitor him. If he gets a lot worse, we'll take him into the ER."
2:37 am, December 23, 2001, Ellison's loft
Cory jerked awake. It took a moment to remember he was in a sleeping bag on the floor of Blair's bedroom. The sounds of slumbering humans surrounded him. He instantly focused on Sam lying in Blair's bed. The deep breathing assured him that his partner was sound asleep, fueled by Sam's fatigue and the pain meds. Ian's soft breath was at the other end of the room. It certainly didn't take sensitive hearing to pick up Blair's snores to his right. Extending his range, he picked out Jim's breathing from the living room and Naomi's soft snore in Jim's bed above them. What had awakened him?
Then he felt a small foot bump his leg. Rising up on his elbows, he looked down to spy Ian. Apparently, the sounds of the toddler climbing out of the cushioned chair had disturbed the sentinel. With Tubby tucked tightly under his arm, Ian was sleepily trying to step over him. "Hey, Squirrel, what's up?" Cory called softly.
Rubbing his eyes as he stepped closer, Ian softly whined, "I want Nana."
Cory gently brushed the blond curls away from the boy's eyes as he gauged his temperature. "Why do you want Nana?" The fever from earlier was lower. He listened to the lungs.
"I scared."
His breathing was sounding much better. Cory studied the child a moment. "You have a bad dream?" Ian nodded. Cory reflected that it was surprising they all weren't having nightmares. "You want a drink of water?"
Ian shook his head. "Wanna sleep with Daddy."
Cory comfortingly rubbed the small arm. "Okay, but Daddy hasn't been feeling good. So try not to wake him up, okay?"
Ian nodded in agreement. Cory sat up and helped the boy climb into the bed. With a smile, the sentinel watched as Ian squirmed his way tight against his partner. Sam shifted in his sleep, subconsciously wrapping his good arm around his son. His tribe safe, Cory laid back into the soft bag. He drifted into sleep, reflecting that this was a much better way to spend Christmas then listening to his family argue.
8:33 am, Ellison's loft
Sam leaned back against the cushions of the couch, pad of paper on his knee. Ian was fed and clean, showing no sign of the cold from the previous night. The toddler was now happily dancing to 50's tunes with his 'Unca Bear'. Naomi was merrily working in the kitchen, while Cory was dressing after his shower. Sam looked down at the paper again. His father had promised to pick up some Christmas presents for Ian if Sam made out a list. He wished he had more time to plan out the holiday
for his son. As it was, they didn't even know if they'd make it up to the cabin as planned.
Still drying his hair with a towel, Cory walked out of the bedroom and joined his friend on the couch. He glanced down at the list, frowned, then grabbed the pencil out of Sam's hand. Sam watched as Cory added 'stocking' and 'candy for stocking' at the bottom. Sam sighed as he scribbled 'rubber duck for stocking' under it. "Thanks. I knew I was forgetting something."
Cory smiled. "It's probably a moot point. I'm sure Mac's probably ten steps ahead of us."
"Yeah. I wouldn't be surprised if he and Jack are already shopping." Sam chuckled as he glanced at Ian trying to do the twist like Blair. "I've never seen Dad this excited for Christmas before. He usually just tolerates it."
Cory scanned the room. "Where's Jim?"
"He went into the station."
Nodding thoughtfully, Cory picked up the remote and turned on the TV. He slowly started to flip through channels until Ian suddenly shouted, "Telly Tubbies!" The toddler was climbing onto the couch before any of the adults could blink.
"Telly what?" Sam repeated as Ian snuggled in between him and Cory, attention fixed on the screen. Sam quickly held the pad above Ian's line of sight.
"Teletubbies are a children's program from Britain," Blair explained as he powered off the stereo. "Supposed to be really good for kids."
"He can't read," Cory pointed out, looking at the list.
Sam chuckled. "Oh, yeah." He brought the paper down to his lap.
When Jim entered the loft a few minutes later, Sam and Cory were still watching the show with Ian while Naomi and Blair conferred over a cookbook. "What's up?" Jim asked as he hung up his jacket.
Naomi looked up and smiled. "Blair and I are looking at Christmas cookie recipes."
"Cookies?" A small but distinctively boyish grin crossed Jim's face.
Blair hated to ruin the rare sight, but needed to know. "How'd it go?"
The smile disappeared as Jim handed over a folder. "What Joel has found so far. We figured you should take a look -- you might pick up something we're missing."