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Missing scene from MacGyver Season Finale: The Stringer. Mac's thoughts and reaction to becoming a father . . .

Second Chance

MacGyver stared at the ceiling. It was his first night home after being released from the hospital. His shoulder and arm still ached, but that was not what occupied his thoughts. Instead it was the fact that in the other room, sound asleep, was Sam - his son. Mac had yet to grasp the reality of his promotion to fatherhood. He called the young man son, but somehow it all still seemed like a dream. The hardest part of the whole situation was that Sam represented yet another family member he - MacGyver the invincible troubleshooter - had failed. What kind of man was he anyway? First there had been his father and grandmother, then his mother and lastly Grandpa Harry. He had failed all of them. When they had needed him the most he hadn't there for them . . . just like he hadn't been there for Kate and Sam. Thinking on such things caused MacGyver to burn with pain and anger. How could he have let them down? Slowly and without restraint tears began to slide across his cheeks. There were no uncontrolled sobs just slow, steady burning streams. With his uninjured hand Mac covered his eyes. Taking a deep ragged breath, he worked to regain control. When the hand came down, Mac's face appeared flushed and wet, but the tears no longer fell. Sighing heavily, he sat upright and swung his legs to the floor. It had taken some persuasion, but Mac had convinced Sam to let him sleep on the couch. The latter had protested vehemently against this notion at first, but after being told a few hundred times that Mac preferred this arrangement, he had reluctantly agreed. Now in his restless state, MacGyver was even more grateful for having won the argument. After scanning the room about him for no apparent reason, the troubleshooter released yet another sigh and buried his face in his hand. Unexpectedly, however, a voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Dad?"

MacGyver lifted his head. "Sam? What are you doing awake?" The question was gentle and laced with concern.

"Hungry," came the simple reply.

Mac smiled rolling his eyes back to the floor. "I shoulda' guessed that," he murmured.

"Dad are you okay?"

Suddenly becoming aware of how dejected he must look, Mac straightened himself. "Yeah, just a little overtired I guess."

Sam frowned and eased himself onto the couch next to his father.

Mac peered up attentively expecting some further inquiry.

"Is your shoulder bothering you? It is isn't it - I knew I shouldn't have taken the bed. It's this couch, I . . ."

"Hey, hey take it easy," Mac pleaded amused though he was by his son's spiraling concern. "My shoulder's fine, really."

Sam relaxed slightly, but refused to abandon the subject. "Something's wrong, though isn't it? There must be. You - you look like you're in pain." Sam's voice lowered with this last observation and he seemed to dread what might be coming next.

Mac sensed his son's worry and longed to put him at ease, but somehow he could not respond immediately. Instead he directed his gaze back to the floor and began to dig one fist into his open palm. This action caused a mild pain to flash through his still healing shoulder. Grimacing almost imperceptibly, MacGyver then sucked in a quick breath of air.

Sam visibly tensed as he witnessed these actions. Concerned, he prodded for answers. "Dad, what's going on?"

The subtle note of fear in his son's voice was enough to rouse Mac from his silence. "I . . . I just," a groan of frustration interrupted the troubleshooter's faltering voice and he continued to carve an even bigger hole in his palm. "I'm just overtired. I'll be fine. Ah . . ." This last sentence failed and remained unspoken.

After several moments Sam broke the quiet with a statement that sent ice down MacGyver's spine.

"It's me isn't it?"

The pained look that enveloped Sam's face was enough to rival that of his father. Mac thought he had never seen such hurt on any human's visage.

"What?" he gasped.

Abruptly the young man stood and turned his back on a still stunned MacGyver. "It's me. I shouldn't have told you the way I did. It was too soon. I should have waited. I mean what kind of an idiot walks up to a stranger and says 'hey my name's Sam and oh by the way I'm your son'. I . . ."

For the second time Mac had to stifle his son's cascading words. "Hey now - slow it down." Rising MacGyver took his son by the shoulders and slowly turned him around. When the young man's eyes refused to look up, Mac offered a a gentle prompt. "C'mon - look at me." Obediently Sam's dark brown optics trailed upwards and locked onto their appointed target. Mac smiled gratefully and continued. "Finding you is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I'll admit it was a bit of a shock at first, but it's the best darn shock I've ever had. And I'm glad you were able to tell me the truth so quickly. I wouldn't have wanted it any other way - trust me. I am so honored to be your father. You just don't know. Why I've been sitting here thinking over my life and wondering what I could have done to deserve a son like you."

Sam's eyes began to mist as he listened. The words he was hearing were gentle and quiet yet filled with deep conviction. Not since his mother passed away, had he heard anyone speak so tenderly.

Mac studied his son's face, trying to determine the impact of his words. Did Sam understand? Did he believe him? MacGyver felt his heart wrenching with the strain of uncertainty. He couldn't have his only son thinking of himself as unwanted - or as a problem. Even the thought that Sam had entertained this notion was unbearable. "Sam," he continued at last. "Do you believe me?"

"Yeah, Dad," Sam murmured nodding his head firmly. "I believe you."

Mac exhaled a breath he had unknowingly been holding. His head then sagged with relief and he placed an affectionate hand on Sam's neck. "Thank God." As MacGyver stood there, overcome by relief, he had a sudden impulse to pull his son into a hug. Unsure of how the young man would respond, however, Mac hesitated. During his moment of indecision, Sam's stomach suddenly growled. Both of them laughed at the unceremonious interjection and Mac headed for the kitchen. "C'mon. Let's see what we can do about that hunger of yours. I know I don't have much in the way of junk food, but there's bound to be something around here you can eat."

Mac opened the cabinet that normally housed his wheat germ and other nutritional items only to discover two bags of chips a box of Oreo cookies and many other unhealthy items.

Sam grinned and soon laughed out loud at his father's amazed expression.

"Someone's been shopping," Mac observed in mock severity.

"Sorry Dad, but the selection around here was so depressing."

"Um-hum. Tell you what - I'll try some of your junk food if you'll try some of my alfalfa sprouts."

"Alfalfa sprouts?"

Now it was Mac's turn to laugh as he witnessed his son's face contort with disgust. "Okay, okay," he capitulated. "No alfalfa sprouts. How 'bout whipped bean curd?"

Sam shivered. "Try again."

"Okay, carrot juice?"

"That I think I can handle," Sam agreed.

Thus decided, two snacks consisting of Doritos, Oreos, and carrot juice (with a sampling of alfalfa for Mac) were prepared. This odd repast was then consumed with, but minimal commentary by both parties regarding the sanity of each other's taste buds. As the last bit of juice was being swallowed, however, Sam's eyes once again clouded with concern.

"What is it - carrot juice not sitting too well?" Mac asked noting the change.

"No, it's not that."

"What then?"

"You were upset before. I know now that it wasn't your shoulder and it wasn't me, but . . . something was definitely bothering you." Sam watched as his father's gaze once again fell towards the ground. "Dad - talk to me. Please?"

Hearing Sam's almost pleading voice, Mac struggled to respond. At last he began. "I lost my Dad and grandmother when I was about ten. They drowned after their car went off into a swollen lake." MacGyver paused for a moment and he traced one finger idly across the counter top. When he resumed speaking the words that came were full of regret. "It may not seem to make sense, but I've always felt guilty about that. If only I'd been with them, maybe I could have done something." Looking up sharply, Mac locked eyes with his son. "I failed them." The optics soon wandered again and the troubleshooter continued his explanation. "When I was almost twenty my Mom passed away due to complications from a stroke. I was on assignment in Afghanistan at the time. I didn't even know about it until after the funeral." MacGyver gave the kitchen counter a solid knock with his good hand. Meeting Sam's gaze once more, he added, "I failed her, too. When she really needed me I wasn't there." A moment passed, the eyes dropped and again the narrative recommenced. "Then there was Grandpa Harry. His greatest fear was of dying alone. Two years ago he had a heart attack. I was working on a job here in L.A.. Pete managed to arrange a flight for me, but I didn't make it. I went and got myself hurt and wound up stuck in a hospital. Harry died alone. I failed him." Mac inhaled deeply and the resulting exhale was slow and ragged. "The ones I loved the most, I failed - all of them. I wasn't there for any of them when they needed me." Mac's voice rose slightly as the anger toward himself surfaced. "After I lost Harry I promised myself that if I ever had a family again, I would always be there for them. No matter what I would never let them down." These words caused pain filled lines to crease MacGyver's face. As if keeping a horrible image at bay the man closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face. When he spoke again, his tone was cracked and unsteady. " . . . and now, I find you. Sam, can you ever forgive me?"

Now it was Sam who appeared stunned. "What for?"

Mac took a sharp, quick breath. "For . . . for not being there. A man should be there for his family - for his son - and I never was." These last syllables dropped considerably in volume and Mac fought to keep his raging emotions in hand.

"Dad, you didn't even know I was born," Sam began incredulously.

"But I should have! When Kate left I should have known that there was more to it than just a job opportunity. Why couldn't I see it?"

Sam reached out a hand and grabbed his father's good arm. "Dad, look at me."

Hearing the familiar phrase, Mac responded, albeit reluctantly. When their eyes met, the troubleshooter found himself struggling to breath. "Son, I . . ."

"Wait, Dad, before you say anything . . . Look, I'm not going to tell you that it doesn't matter. I'd be lying if I said I never missed having a father, but the truth is, there is nothing you could have done. Mom made the decision that took us apart and neither you nor I had a say in the matter. In my book that does not make you a failure, it makes you a victim of circumstance." To give his words a chance to sink in, Sam paused. He then gave his father's arm another squeeze. "Dad, you and I were deprived of the chance to be together when I was growing up; but now life has given us a second chance. All my life I've dreamed about having a Dad. Now that dream has come true. You're here, with me, right now and as far as I'm concerned that's what matters."

MacGyver looked away as he tried to process what his son had said. He played the words over and over in his mind, yet somehow the overwhelming guilt remained. Just 'being here now' didn't seem to be enough. Slowly Mac started to shake his head. "Sam, I . . ."

"No Dad," Sam interrupted hearing the doubt in his father's voice. "You did not fail me. I don't care what you think, or what may be going on in your mind, but as far as I'm concerned. . . well, let's just say that I think you were worth waiting for. You know what I mean?"

Mac raised his head at this comment and allowed the faintest of smiles to cross his face. After a long moment's pause, he at last responded. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

Sam's expression warmed into an affectionate smile. "There is something I've been meaning to say, though Dad. I guess now is as good a time as any." Sam swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Thus prepared, he continued. "I know I've only had you for a few weeks now, but ah . . . I, I love you Dad."

Mac felt his heart start to pound. 'I love you Dad'. Such a simple phrase, but oh how powerful it seemed. Perhaps Sam was right. Perhaps the present and the future were what mattered now and not the past. So, pushing aside his regret, Mac focused all of his attention on the here and now. Once again he found himself overcome by the desire to pull his son into a hug. This time, however there was no hesitation. Wrapping his arms around Sam, Mac held him close. Without a shred of reluctance, Sam immediately responded with a tight embrace of his own. Mac's injured shoulder screamed in protest, but somehow the troubleshooter just didn't care. Hot liquid soon began to run down his cheeks, only now they were tears of happiness not of regret. Smiling to himself, Mac then spoke. "I love you, too son."

For Sam they were the most beautiful words he had ever heard . . .