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The shadows were starting to slant up the beach, and Rose looked with awed pride across the water. Floating in its frame, just as Mac had predicted, the white and red silk flag stood out against the crystal blue green water. A splash, and Mac surfaced, giving her a quick wave. She nodded and turned back to the fire, tossing more dried fronds on it.
With neat slices, Rose chopped up the yellow fruit, hoping to be done before Mac made it out of the water. She kept peeking over her shoulder, watching him swim to shore. Finally he strode out, shivering, to stand by the fire and never in her life had Rose wished so much that she had a towel. Instead, she made him peel off the wet, tattered tee shirt and boxers to put on the phoenix sweatshirt and dry shorts. MacGyver smiled, teeth chattering.
"It's anchored pretty well now, but if you dive more than ten feet down, the temperature drops by about fifteen degrees," he commented wryly. She nodded.
"Want to roast some pineapple?" She handed him a frond spine with yellow chunks skewered on it. He flashed a huge smile, scooting closer to the fire.
"Hey that's great! Where'd you find it?" Carefully he squatted and held the stick over the flames. Rose draped the wet clothes up to dry, then began making a skewer for herself.
"Practically tripped over it while getting firewood. Three plants, and only one had a ripe pineapple, so I brought it back. I'm saving some to drizzle over the toasted coconut."
"You know, once we get off this island, I don't ever want to see another coconut--" Mac grumbled, "Ever."
"Amen," Rose laughed. She handed him one of the porcelain bowls and kneeled in the sand, holding her skewer over the flames. The sun slowly set out over the water and the first stars began to glimmer. Rose took a drink of water from the bamboo bucket.
"So here's to tomorrow. With any luck a coast guard plane that will finally spot us here." They were the right words, but they came out with a hint of reluctance. MacGyver felt the sentiment echoed within himself. He tossed the empty skewer into the crackling flames and glanced up into the night sky.
"Getting rescued means we'll be going home--" he gently prodded. Rose looked up at him, surprised. He noticed the sunburn on her shoulders was starting to peel.
"Yes, home. Back over Pratchett's Pet Shop on Primrose and Third, back to my stupid unfinished article on the life cycle of the parrotfish, and about a dozen frantic phone messages from Newt and Mom--you remember the place--home."
"So--you're not moving?" he locked eyes with her; she fidgeted, playing with her braid.
"Well not right away. I mean, with Hanna gone, Trevor will probably need all the help he can get, and I haven't even thought about sending out resumes, plus Pete hasn't finished my letter of recommendation--" she babbled helplessly as Mac waited for her to wind down. When she did, he managed a small smile.
"--So, no, I guess I won't be leaving right away . . ."' she trailed off. He looked up again, just in time to see a faint streak swiftly cross the sky.
/Starlight, star bright--/
"Good. Because I'm not ready to move either," he replied softly. Startled, Rose met his gaze and pinkened.
"What? You'd leave the Foundation just because I wasn't around?"
"No," Mac announced quietly, "But I'd leave to get you back."
Rose tightened her lips and stood up, her entire frame radiating tension.
"Don't you dare say something like that to *me, * MacGyver. I'm not going to be lulled into staying on at the Foundation just because you've slept with me, you know!"
Startled at her anger, he shot up, looming over her as she tried to turn away.
"I say what I *mean*, Rose. Making love to you has nothing to do with your job!" came his impatient reply. His hand seized her shoulder and he yanked Rose into his arms, his mouth swiftly descending on hers. She struggled for a second, and then yielded with pliant desperation; they swayed against each other as the pineapple-flavored kiss went on and on.
"Say you love me, or say uncle--" MacGyver huskily murmured into her ear, his grip around her tightening. She writhed.
"God, why? It's not as if it matters now. Nothing that happens here is real anyway, Mac! Once we get back we'll drift right back into that safe, safe rut of being good friends--the way you are with *all* the women you know--"
"--NO."
"--YES," she persisted wearily. "You know I'm right."
"Not this time," he warned her. Rose dropped her forehead to his chest, and Mac felt the wet trickle of her tears through his sweatshirt. He bit his lip.
"I don't want to be--good friends--anymore, Rose. We've gone beyond that point," came his slow voice. "So tell me the truth--do *you* want to go back to the way it was?"
/Have the wish I wish tonight. Please--/
She snuffled, ever so slowly shaking her head from side to side. MacGyver shakily let go of the breath he was holding in one relieved sigh, and planted a light kiss on her crown.
"Okay, Brat, good enough. Right now we need to bank the fire and get to bed." He gently released her.
Rose said nothing, but wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand and obediently began to clean up the porcelain bowls, dipping them into the nearest tide pool. MacGyver dragged a few damp fronds over the flames and stacked the rest of the fuel well away from the fire trench. Slowly they headed back to the cliff in the moonlight. After a few steps, MacGyver reached for her hand; Rose wove her fingers with his.
"Mac?"
"Mmmmm?" They walked in the wet sand as small waves lapped at their feet. Overhead the waning moon lit their path amid a scattering of stars.
"Does this mean . . . we're . . . going steady?"
The question caught him off-guard and he laughed, the deep rumble rising out of his chest as he threw his head back.
"If you want to call it that, sure. I tend to think it's a little more complicated though, Brat. I'm kinda past carrying your books home from school--"
"Or taking me to Homecoming, yes, I know--" she added with a giggle of her own. "Although you can share my locker if you want."
"Just as long as you don't have a certain French oceanographer's picture pinned up in it--" he teased, pulling her close and nuzzling her hair. She made a little growling noise in her throat.
"Get serious--"
"I *am* serious," he replied. "We'll get back, I'll start looking for someplace big enough for all our stuff combined and we'll take it from there."
"Whoa, let's not get rash, MacGyver--one thing at a time. Let's just get used to the idea of being a couple first, okay?" She looked up into his dark eyes. The moonlight lent his tousled hair a silvery aura, and lit the bearded angular planes of his face.
"Okay, okay--" he sighed. "One thing at a time."
"Bed."
"Bed."
They looked at each other a moment longer, and Rose shivered, reaching up to toy with his bangs.
"Are you sleepy?" she asked softly.
Without warning, he scooped her up, tossing her onto his shoulder with ease.
"Nope."
Rose squealed, braid flying as he began to march purposefully towards the cliff.
"Hey---!"
"Bed. NOW," came his growly reply. Delightedly, Rose let herself be jostled through the dark jungle and up the coral steps to the pillbox. Once there in the darkness, MacGyver set her gently on the frond bed. He kneeled over her.
"Mac--"
"--Shhhh. Don't talk--" His hands slid across her skin possessively. Rose sighed, stretching out, letting MacGyver gently tug away the shirt and boxers. A single shaft of moonlight shone through the coral window pooling in a silvery puddle and reflecting in spangles across the room. The light put a silvery glow on their bodies. Rose tried to sit up, but she felt Mac's heated breath in the shell of her ear as he loomed over her.
"Just like this . . . in my bed, warm and waiting--" he admitted in a rough whisper.
MacGyver's hands roamed, gliding with eager strength over her bare flesh. Rose felt the tingle of desire left in the wake of his touch, a trail of fire that flared through her. She reached for him, but Mac caught her wrists and pinned them down on either side of her shoulders.
"No matter how far I go, or how long I'm gone--"
Rose impatiently rolled her hips, making the fronds under her creak. Mac laughed low and dropped his head until his mouth pressed into the hollow at the base of her throat. Rose squirmed: his beard tickled, and his hot tongue left her weak with longing.
"--You'd be here," he insisted, words muffled against the side of her throat, "You'd be mine the way I've longed for you--"
"Yours," she agreed huskily. He lifted his head to meet her eyes, and sighed. Swiftly MacGyver dropped his full weight onto her eager frame; they thrashed through frantic kisses, and Rose managed to get him out of the sweatshirt and shorts with out ripping anything--barely.
Rose kissed his eyes, his nose, and his mouth as he gently thrust himself into the slick heat between her thighs, groaning her name softly. Her hands raked his strong back, urging him on. After a few moments, Mac groaned, shuddering in the throes of his passion. He dropped his forehead against her shoulder.
"*Damn!* I--I'm sorry, Rose. I know it wasn't--sorry that you didn't--" the heat of his blush against her skin made her smile.
"Ever the considerate Lutheran Midwesterner, Mr. MacGyver . . ." Rose cradled his head, basking in the intimacy of his orgasm. She stroked his sweaty cheek. "Always putting those you love first--"
"But--"
"But nothing. Believe me, I'm feeling pretty sated right now, and more than a little humbled to have felt your passion for me, your inner fire," she kissed his scratchy chin. "My God, you're gorgeous when you come, did you know that? All muscle and growl and salt."
"Um . . . " he moved close enough to rub his nose against hers, "Rose, I still feel bad about . . ."
"Oh hush--" she murmured sleepily. "--Getting in sync takes practice, Mac. We just need practice."
He thought about that a moment.
"Mmmmm. Lots of practice. Nightly. Hourly--" he offered with a raise of his eyebrows. Rose chortled.
"Hourly? Nice try, MacGyver, but we do have to eat and wash occasionally. Besides, you're not seventeen anymore."
"Try explaining that to selected systems of my anatomy, Brat," he grumbled. "Ever since that green dress--"
"Shhhh--" they lay contentedly, listening to the sound of the waves and the rustle of the palm fronds and drifted off to sleep, still entwined.
*** *** ***
"Carrots?"
"Yes."
"Squash?"
"Yes, mostly in casseroles."
"Lima beans?"
"No. Not in any form or dish. They're slimy."
MacGyver looked up from the edge of the water where he was collecting dark chunks of coral rock and shook his head at Rose. The mid-afternoon was breezy, and cooler than before.
"Okay, we won't have lima beans. How about broccoli?"
"Yes. Cooked or raw, but not cauliflower because it looks like alien brains and smells gross when it's cooking," she replied over her shoulder. She was arranging the dark rocks on the beach, working with MacGyver to spell out a large SOS in the light sand. He lugged another over and dropped it at her feet.
"Tofu. Tell me you'll at least *try* it," he pleaded. She made a face, shuddering.
"Mac, tofu is what they use to make those Dr Scholl's shoe inserts--the same springy tasteless stuff. No."
He moved the rock, frowning. "I *like* tofu."
"Fine. *You* eat it while I have a pizza," she muttered absently. "It's not as if we have to agree on *everything* you know. I bet you're not so keen on pickled beets and Black sea Caviar topped with mandarin orange slices and a big squirt of soy sauce."
The look MacGyver shot her was priceless; half exasperation, half horrified curiosity. Rose started to laugh when both of them heard the faint droning hum. Immediately they looked up, searching the sky. Rose handed the binoculars to Mac, and waited tensely for his report.
"From the north--let's get the fire good and smoky . . ." he directed as she dashed up the beach. Swiftly she dragged the stacked fronds and threw them on the embers, stirring them up as MacGyver kept scanning the sky. For a while the drone didn't fade, but it didn't seem to get any louder, and Rose kept her impatience out of the way by fanning the smoke with a smaller frond. White billowy puffs sailed up to circle and dissipate in the sky.
"Anything?" she asked, trying to keep her voice level.
"Yeah--take a look--" Mac passed her the lenses and pointed to the northwest. She squinted, and after a few minutes danced up and down.
"Coast Guard search and rescue out of Honolulu! Mac, I can *see* it!" she shouted. He grinned at her joy.
/Whatever you want, Rose--I'll get it for you./
After half an hour, the sound was stronger, and the silver plane came across the horizon. It slowly circled the island, dipping a wing as it spiraled high over their heads while they waved.
"That means they've seen us," MacGyver explained. "Since they can't land, they're radioing the co-ordinates to a cutter. If we sit tight Rose, we could be picked up by tonight--maybe tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" she looked crestfallen. " I want to go home right now--"
"Me too, but it's going to take some time for the ship to get here. We've made it this far, Brat--don't wimp out now--" He chucked her under her quivering chin. She gave a nod, her focus on the plane as it turned and slowly headed back in the direction it had come from. Mac gently rubbed a hand on her back.
"Come on--let's go get some sleep and think about dinner."
"Broiled sea urchins, or Coconut surprise?"
"Brat, feed me another coconut at your own risk--" MacGyver muttered, and she laughed.
*** *** ***
Pete Thornton shook his head and sighed. Doctor Ellison grinned, setting the chart back on the hook at the end of the bunk.
"Dehydrated of course, so they're both on IVs, and some secondary sunburn was to be expected, but on the whole it's remarkable how healthy they both are--we'll get the tests tomorrow to see if there's any malaria or parasitic problems, but I don't expect anything we can't treat right away."
"That's MacGyver," Pete muttered. "Falls into manure and comes out with gold--it's the story of his life."
"So it seems. I'm going to give them both some sedatives so they can catch up on some rest--"
"Let me talk to him again first, will you?"
"Sure."
Pete peeked around the sickbay curtain at MacGyver, who lay on the bed, eyes shut, but fidgeting. He looked thinner and browner than Pete remembered, but the smile was still as genuine.
"Hey, Mac."
"Hey Pete. How's Rose?" Mac tried to sit up, but Thornton motioned for him to lie back.
"She's fine. The doctor's going to give her something to sleep in a few minutes--you too."
"Mmmmm." It was a sound of resignation; Mac closed his eyes again and Pete grinned briefly. He moved closer to his friend and lightly touched the IV pole.
"Mac, Rose told me she's reconsidered leaving, so I guess you succeeded in changing her mind." He let the statement hang in the air, the unspoken question hovering just under it. MacGyver drew in a deep breath.
"Yeah, you could say I finally managed to . . . break through," he replied very softly. Pete patted his shoulder.
"Good," he said simply. For a minute they looked at each other, and slowly grinned in complete understanding. Pete shook his head.
"By the way, you are aware that there's going to be interesting when you two get back--it's a hell of a story. Man and a woman trapped on an island that hasn't been inhabited since World War two--I expect the press is going to love this."
"Great--" came Mac's annoyed grumble, "Let's just forget that four respected scientists died, and that the reef recovery project's been set back by about a year--"
"Hey, I know," Pete frowned. "I may be the boss but I'm not heartless, MacGyver. The Foundation isn't about to ignore what Hanna and her team died trying to do."
"Sorry," came the contrite response. Pete sighed.
"Me too. Get some rest, okay?"
*** *** ***
Rose squirmed. By anybody's standards she should have been out, sleeping soundly on the clean sheets and pillows of the bunk, but even with a mild dose of sedative in her system she was still restless. The IV was making her arm cold, and she couldn't bring herself to admit what was really wrong.
She sighed in the semi-darkness, resigning herself to a sleepless night when the curtain shuddered and a soft voice broke into her thoughts.
"Hey--still awake?"
"Mac! What are you doing out of bed--Doctor Ellison said--" Rose sat up, long hair falling in a cascade down her shoulders.
"--To get some sleep, I know, I know," He murmured. Mac dragged his IV pole in as he moved to sit on the edge of her bed.
"Funny thing is, I can't," he admitted, a shy and comical expression crossing his face. Her hand found his, and they squeezed fingers tightly.
"It's kinda hard to explain, but if you're--"
"--Not there, is doesn't feel right," she finished with a grin. " I know the feeling. I think we have survivor's syndrome or something."
"Or something," he agreed. "You mind?"
"Nope." came Rose's grin. She studied his face.
"I was just getting used to the scruffy look--when did you shave?"
"An hour ago--it was itching," came his off-hand response. "Gave me something to do besides toss and turn."
"Here--" she lifted the blanket and patted space on the mattress next to her invitingly, "Hop in and catch some sleep."
"Don't tempt me!" came his mild groan. She leaned closer, her eyes shining as she looked at him.
"No matter how far you go, or how long you're gone--" Rose reminded him in a whisper. He leaned forward and hungrily kissed her.
"Mine. Scoot over--"
The night shift nurse later commented to Doctor Ellison that it was interesting to see that someone had managed to tie the IV lines so they were neatly out of the way, and that both of them were sleeping so soundly.
END