Chapter Text
“So, Fern. What exactly brought you over here?” Jack asked.
The journey between Los Angeles and Atlanta had been a little awkward, but that was to be expected. MacGyver and Jack had kept to their side of things, and Fern had kept to herself, quietly observing. Now, sat in the back of their rental car, it was clear their curiosity was getting the better of them.
“I told you,” she said, “I requested a transfer.”
“No, but why here? Why Phoenix? You don’t just leave British Intelligence for that.”
She exhaled, electing for transparency. They were already in the business of dealing secrets. Too many between colleagues was not the best idea. Without trust of your own side, the whole thing could fall apart.
“It was good timing. I wanted a fresh start, Matty wanted a… guiding hand on the team. Someone she could trust in the field when she took over. It was convenient.”
“So you’re here to spy on us,” Jack said.
“Observe,” she corrected. “I’m not here to take over or snitch on you or anything. I’m just an extra set of eyes and ears. Until you trust me, I’ll follow your lead.”
That seemed to set Jack at ease enough, but there was still a lingering curiosity.
“How do you know her anyway?” MacGyver asked from the passenger seat, and Fern caught him frowning at her curiously in the rearview mirror.
“We worked together a couple years ago when she was with the CIA,” she explained. “She kept in contact. Must have done something right.”
“Guess we’re about to find out.”
They pulled in front of ‘Tanner’s Corner Grocery’, making their way inside one by one. It was fortunately a quiet day or for business, or maybe the spot was just unpopular. Only one or two people slipping in and out, the bell above the door chiming with each one.
MacGyver took the lead, spotting the woman from the video organising inventory. “Ilene Preskin?”
Ilene turned to look at him, and rolled her eyes. “Alright, look, I’ll tell you what I told the other guys. I’m not looking for representation. I do not want any television appearances, and I am not looking to sell my life rights.”
She was a tired looking woman. Middle aged, with a rounded face and dark blonde curls. Body wrapped in a baggy cardigan. Not exactly ‘star quality’, but her video made a statement.
MacGyver frowned. “Ma’am… who is it you think we are?”
“Come on, you Hollywood types been coming here, bugging me ever since my nephew posted that damn video,” she said.”
“You think we’re-”
“We are Hollywood types. You got us pegged,” Jack cut him off before he could lose their opening to a conversation. “You got a great eye. Yeah, especially this guy. And this little lady?”
He gestured at Fern, who had been scoping out the security camera. She responded with a safe smile and nod, deciding it best to keep her mouth shut and accent out of the situation for the moment. Besides, the other two seemed to be doing okay on their own. Ilene seemed convinced at least.
“Totally,” MacGyver continued slowly. “We are from Hollywood, and we’re here about your video, but we’re actually looking for this man.”
He pulled out his phone, giving Ilene a look at their suspect.
“We think he has that certain… ‘it factor’ that we need for our next project. Do you know him?”
“Charlie?” Her lips quirked into a sly smile. “Yeah, I know him. He comes in here all the time.”
“And does ‘Charlie’ have a last name? A stage name perhaps?” Jack pressed.
“Well, I don’t know, I never asked. But it’s not like you need an ID to buy Gooey-Pies. He comes in here once a day. Get’s a box of them Gooey-Pies and we just… chat.”
“Do you know where he lives?” MacGyver asked hopefully.
Ilene looked at them for a long moment. “No… but I should for as long as he’s been flirten’ with me. I mean, he’s never asked me out, but I mean you don’t not like a girl if you’ve made that many sketches for her.”
She gestured over to the counter, where a small collection of pencilled sketches had been put up on display. They were of nothing remarkable; a couple of animals, a skyline, and some plants, but they were pretty.
MacGyver looked intrigued, pulling out his phone. “May I?”
“Knock yourself out,” she said. “But I tell you what, you use Charlie’s name, and I will sue you.”
“Well,” he responded, grabbing a local map and a pen, tossing them onto the counter to pay. “Thanks, Ilene. You’ve been extremely helpful.”
“She has?” Jack asked.
He gave him a knowing look.
“You have,” he confirmed with a grin. “I think I’m gonna have my people call your people. Do lunch. Ciao, mama.”
MacGyver was the first out of the store, pausing to glance at his phone again while Jack and Fern followed him.
“Okay, alright. I know I’m probably missing something again. But didn’t she just say she didn’t know Douglas’ last name or where he lived?” Jack asked.
Fern nodded. “Looks like she didn’t even know his real first name, just that he’s a regular.”
“Yeah, that’s right.” Macgyver seemed undeterred by the lack of evidence, moving to the boot of the car.
Jack followed him. “Don’t tell me you just turned a photo of a sketch of a bird into a fugitive finder?”
“Okay, I won’t tell you then,” he responded, starting to lay out the map.
“Is that something he’s likely to do?” Fern frowned.
“Yes,” he said. “And now you have to tell me, smarty-pants. I insist.”
MacGyver held up the photo he’d taken of the sketches - not of the bird, but of the skyline. “See this sketch?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, it’s a view out of a window. And I’m thinking it’s Bishop’s window. Since we can identify two large buildings, we’re just a little trigonometry away from finding out exactly where he lives.”
“Yeah, that’s a little far-fetched,” Jack dismissed.
Saying it out loud, it was reasoning Fern could follow. And it gave her an idea of her own. “Can I see that?”
She took the phone handed to her, examining the sketch closely. While her pencil skills had rusted since her time in secondary school, she still retained enough about shading and angles of light to try and be useful. “It’s a long shot, but I can try and narrow down our options to something more exact.”
“What have you got?” MacGyver asked, looking at her with intrigue.
“I might be able to get an idea of the floor and which way the building is facing based off the angles and shading in the sketch,” she explained, making it sound as obvious as the trigonometry suggestion. “Might.”
“How’d you work that out?” Now he looked impressed.
The smile she responded with was shy. Having to say it out loud after all that was significantly less cool. “I went to university for photography. I know a lot about lighting…”
MacGyver’s lips pulled into a soft smile, almost like he was in awe of her somehow. At least he did not feel threatened by her bringing her skillset to his territory, which for their first time working together was about as much as she could hope for. But the gesture still made a swarm of butterflies take up residence in her chest.
“Hey, I don’t really look like a Hollywood type to you, do I?” The moment was broken by Jack’s question.
His friend took a minute to critique his face. “Just from the eyes up, really.”
“Fern? What do you think?”
“I think it’s the jacket. And the sunglasses,” she said, handing MacGyver’s phone back to him when he started gathering up the map, evidently satisfied with his maths.
— — —
It took some time of driving around Atlanta, but eventually they located a building that matched MacGyver’s trigonometry theory. And thanks to Fern’s analysis, they were able to avoid breaking into the wrong apartment.
Sure enough, the view out of the window matched the sketch perfectly. Same tall buildings, same tree encroaching from the left.
“Yeah, definitely Bishop’s apartment,” MacGyver confirmed, looking pleased with himself.
“Buddy, you could have at least waited to block our only exit until I made sure the guy who likes to kill federal agents isn’t home,” Jack muttered, pulling out his pistol to sweep the place.
“I’m just glad we broke into the right apartment,” he said. “My trig’s a little rusty.”
“Then I guess it’s lucky I was sent with you,” Fern said as she passed him, checking the other side of the apartment.
“I’m not gonna argue that,” he responded. “Nice job.”
“You too.”
“You sure this is this guy’s place?” Jack asked.
It was about what could be expected for someone living alone and under the radar. Sparsely decorated, somewhat messy. Lived in. Several boxes of Gooey-Pies sat on the side table, confirming Ilene’s version of events.
“Yeah,” MacGyver said, touching his hand to the kettle on the same table. “Kettle’s still warm. He was just here."
A few more sketches littered the table, baring a resemblance to Ilene. Evidently the flirting went two ways there. It was so mundane for a criminal of his standing. A puzzle piece that had a dent in just the wrong spot.
“Okay, so… what, did he hear us coming and take off or what?”
“Yeah, or he’s coming back,” MacGyver continued to flip through the papers, tearing off a strip from one that caught his eye.
“Doesn’t look like he left in a rush, I’d expect the place to be upside down for that,” Fern added. “What do you want to do?”
“I say we hole up across the street and wait for him,” Jack said.
Before the plan could be agreed upon, the doorknob rattled violently.
“Maybe he forgot something…”
The group banded together, watching the door from behind Jack’s gun. The handle rattled a second time, followed by a loud slam as the door was kicked open, snapping the lock.
Two men barged their way into the premises, both wearing suits and holding gun, and shouting the same thing.
“FBI! Hands in the air! Hands in the air!”
“Drop it!” Jack yelled back, only holding his gun tighter. But it was two on one, and with no way to explain why they were in a fugitive’s apartment, the odds were not in their favour.
MacGyver pushed Jack’s arms, urging him to do as they said and drop the gun while Fern’s hands remained beside her head. One day into her new job, and she was already being held at gunpoint. That had to be some sort of record.
— — —
They were swiftly removed from the apartment and taken down to the agents’ car, where each of them were handcuffed tightly, and searched for anything incriminating. Standard procedure.
“One has a gun, the other has a Swiss Army knife,” one of the agents listed, dropping the confiscated tool into an evidence bag. “Nothing on the woman, and no identification on any of them.”
“All right, fellas,” the second agent said, hands on his hips. “Who are you, and what are youse doing here?”
“Okay,” Jack began, leaning into him. “We are door-to-door Bible salesmen.”
Fern pressed her lips into a line to avoid smiling.
“Do yourself a favour and don’t get smart,” the agent said flatly. “Okay, fella?”
“Okay.”
“Now tell us your names.”
“What are we being charged with?” MacGyver asked.
“You were caught in the apartment of a wanted felon,” the agent stated.
“Right. But what are we being charged with? If we’re being formally charged, we have a right to know.”
Neither agent seemed best pleased by being on the other side of an interrogation, and responded by grabbing them by their jackets and roughly pushing them into the backseat of their car. Being the smallest, Fern ended up in the middle; wedged between a complaining Jack, and MacGyver, who gave her an apologetic look when he ended up shoved half on top of her.
The front door clicked shut with the others, leaving the evidence bag on the passenger seat. The agents stepped away to the front of the car, confident their detainees were staying put, and looked to be making a phone call - at a guess to whoever was above them on the case.
“Well, so much for finding Bishop before the feds do,” Jack sighed.
MacGyver shook his head. “I don’t think these guys had to find him. Did you hear their accents?”
“Not local?” Fern guessed, not exactly the most well-versed in the subtler varieties of accents found in the United States.
“That’s a Philly accent,” Jack agreed.
“Yeah. Bishop’s old stomping grounds,” MacGyver said.
“If either one of these guys are on Bishop’s payroll, I don’t think this trip ends at the FBI field office.”
“Nope.”
“We gotta get out of here. Think of something.”
He sighed heavily. “Oh, I got something. And even I don’t like it.”
Jack showed no hesitation. “Do it.”
“Fern?”
“I’m following you,” she said, having no ideas of her own, electing to keep up with her observation of her companions. At the very least, she trusted them to think of something to keep them on Bishop’s trail a little longer.
“Okay. Then I’m gonna need to lean across you.”
Fern nodded, sliding down in her seat until there was nowhere else for her legs to fit. It was far from comfortable or inconspicuous, but she had drawn the least amount of attention to herself up to that point. So if the agents were to look back, she would likely be the last one noticed missing.
It took a moment, and some considerable effort from MacGyver to reach the gear shift with his foot, nudging the car into neutral. Being that they were parked on a slope, the car started to roll backwards. Slowly at first, but picking up speed by the second.
It was clear why he perhaps did not like his own plan.
The agents took notice quickly, shouting and rushing back to try and catch up.
MacGyver shifted, knocking into Fern again despite his efforts to avoid her as he slipped his arms under his legs, bringing his cuffed hands to the front. From there, he had more movement to dive into the front seat, giving Fern and Jack more breathing room in the back.
Jack glanced out the back window nervously. “Hey, points for originality, but this only counts as an escape if we don’t die.”
“Yeah, this is the ‘even I don’t like it’ part,” he admitted, slamming his hands onto the door locks when the agents tried to pry his door open.
After that, it was clear they could not keep pace, and were left to watch their car continue rolling.
“Can we go to the part you do like?” Fern asked, pushing herself back up her seat.
“Working on it.” He reached over and grabbed the evidence bag, ripping it open with his teeth and retrieving the Swiss Army knife inside like a prize. Quickly, he opened the up the inner wires of the engine with all the precision of a doctor opening a patient’s body, frantically fiddling with ignition to find a spark.
The longer it took, the more anxious Jack and Fern grew in the back. The car was still picking up speed, and heading for a main road straight into traffic. Another car had pulled in behind them, the horn blaring as the gap between them got smaller and smaller, forcing MacGyver to grab at the wheel to avoid a collision.
A moment later, the spark ignited, and the engine clicked to life. And not a moment too soon as they slipped from their straight free fall into the line of fire.
He grabbed at the wheel again, dragging the car into a tire screeching spin, narrowly avoiding a collision with two separate cars. Jack was knocked into his window from the force, while Fern ended up partially cushioned by him instead until the car straightened out, having found the correct side of the road.
Jack groaned, finally free from having his face pressed into the glass. “Yeah!”
MacGyver sat back in the driver’s seat, looking like he had not taken a breath for a solid minute in their escape.
“That was awesome!” Jack praised. “Now, let’s never do it again.”
Fern shook her head, following MacGyver’s lead and tucking her legs up to free her hands from behind her back. Her shoulders were already sore from the positions she had landed in. She made a mental note to take a hot shower when she returned to her apartment.
“Just a reminder. Don’t tell the Hun about our little run-in with the feds, alright?”
“Yup, I was thinking the same thing,” MacGyver agreed, and Jack laughed again triumphantly.