Author's Notes: This story is part of my MacGyver AU series. You can find information on its premise, philosophy and origins and a timeline of stories on my profile page.
Takes place after Family Resemblance Part I.
-September, 1986-
A loud buzzing shattered the early morning stillness of the room. A small hand snaked out of the battered blue sleeping bag on the couch, blindly reaching for the alarm clock and knocking it face-down onto the coffee table. The alarm kept on sounding until finally a bleary-eyed teenage girl with rumpled reddish-brown hair emerged, grabbing the clock and stabbing at a button. The annoying sound ceased and she collapsed back down onto the couch. Too darn early to get up, she thought.
A large hand settled on her shoulder, shaking her gently. "Hey, Becky. It's six-thirty," MacGyver's warm Midwestern drawl murmured in her ear. "Time to wake up."
"Don't wanna," she grumbled, pulling the sleeping bag over her head. "Nine-thirty better. Please?"
There was a puff of cool air as the quilted nylon fabric was removed, and soon she found herself blinking up at her uncle, dark eyes twinkling in amusement. He had obviously returned from a run, judging by the sweat-damp state of his tousled hair and the stains darkening the worn yellow sweatshirt. "No way. You're starting school today, remember?"
Becky groaned. "Do I have to?"
"Yeah, you do. You'd get bored hanging around the apartment all alone otherwise, with nothin' to do and nowhere else to sleep except for this lumpy old couch."
"I'll take my chances." She grabbed for the edge of the sleeping bag, covering herself again before turning to face the back of the couch.
She heard him chuckle before pulling her cover away and tugging on her shoulder to face him. "C'mon now sleepyhead, get up. You don't want me to act parental at a time like this. Trust me."
"But Uncle Mac..." She fell back on a negotiating tactic that was normally successful, all wide, guileless blue eyes and sweet smile.
He shook his head, crossing his arms and smirking. "Nope. Not gonna work on me, Becky. I'm wise to you now. Nice try, though."
Her small shoulders slumped in defeat. They were both equally stubborn, and she really did not want him to start acting parental- as he put it- so soon in their new relationship. "Oh, all right. You win."
He chuckled again and bent down, kissing her cheek. "That's my girl. You can have first crack at the shower, what do you say? Let me know when you're done."
"Sure." She sat up, stretching her cramped muscles before shrugging off the sleeping bag, grabbing her glasses from the coffee table and trudging up the stairs. Mac was right about the couch, of course; it really wasn't comfortable enough for long-term sleeping- no matter how much he preferred to crash on it after a difficult and lengthy assignment- and she was looking forward to having her own bed delivered soon.
Twenty minutes later Becky stood in her bedroom, hands on hips, staring at the stacks of moving boxes and suitcases; finding something suitable to wear was obviously going to take some digging. Almost everything was still packed away, and between preparing the apartment and Mac's work for Phoenix- not to mention all the paperwork and court appearances required to establish his guardianship status and her residency in the state- there was barely any free time to start unpacking or organizing, much less buy school supplies.
After ten more minutes of searching she finally put together a fairly decent outfit- dark jeans and light blue blouse with white sweater and sneakers. Last year's styles but it can't be helped, she thought with a grimace as she brushed and fixed her hair in a ponytail. Maybe Penny or Nikki would be willing to take me clothes shopping over the weekend.
She found MacGyver in the kitchen pouring himself a glass of orange juice, hair still damp from his own shower and red patterned shirt half tucked into his jeans. "Morning, Unc."
"Mornin', Beck. Ready for your first day?" He moved to the table, setting the juice beside a bowl of cereal and a stack of files. He flipped one open, reading the contents while eating, occasionally setting the spoon down to take notes.
"Not really." She prepared her breakfast of tea- a special blend found at a shop in Chinatown, and rapidly becoming her favorite- and cereal and carried them to the table. "You're hard at work already."
"Yeah. Mostly briefings for the stuff Pete rescheduled to let me have all that free time over the summer. I owe him big time for that, so..." He gestured at the files with a grimace.
"So you got paperwork." After a few minutes of eating she looked around with a wry smile. "Quite the domestic scene, huh?"
"Takes some gettin' used to, that's for sure."
"Yeah." She sipped at her tea, then poked half-heartedly with her spoon at the cereal for a while before pushing it away.
Mac raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"
She glanced at him, then sighed and shrugged. "Just thinking about school back home. I wasn't popular by any stretch of the imagination, you know, since I like to read and study. I wasn't good at any sport, either. The other kids called me a nerd, and that's how I'll probably be labeled here. I'm kinda nervous."
"Hey, relax. Does it really matter what others think of you? Being a nerd is nothing to be ashamed of. You're not only really smart, but also kind, caring, perceptive and compassionate; that's great friend material, in my book. Besides, this is your home now, and everything's different. Think of it as a clean slate, you know? You'll do fine today."
"You really believe that?"
He smiled warmly. "You bet I do. Now finish your breakfast. But first-" He reached under the files, pulling out a manila envelope with her name on it. "This came in yesterday's mail, forgot to give it to you last night. Looks like some forms for school."
Becky took it from him and opened the envelope, spilling a few papers onto the table. "Emergency cards. Paperwork of my own, great. Anything I can write with around here?" She rooted around until he took pity and handed her his pen. "Thanks. Okay. Name- last, first, and middle initial. Address. Home phone number. Name of parent or guardian-"
"Hey, do you really have to put my first name down on that?"
"You know I do, Unc. This is official. Why do you ask?"
He shrugged. "Just curious. You know how I feel about it."
She rolled her eyes. "Right. Moving on. Your work address. Work number. Secondary emergency contact- hey, who should I put down for that?"
Mac thought a moment. "How about Pete?"
"You think it'll be fine with him?"
He nodded. "Yeah. He'll be a lot easier to get hold of, most times."
"Okay. Give me his home and office numbers and we're all set." Mac recited them by heart and with a satisfied sigh she shoved them back into the envelope. "All done."
"Good, 'cause we gotta get goin' if you want to make it to school on time."
"But I'm not ready yet."
"So hurry up, then. C'mon!" He stood up, shooing her out of her chair.
"Okay, okay." Becky dashed up the stairs. She brushed her teeth and cleaned her glasses then hurried into her bedroom, scooping up her sturdy blue backpack. She hurried downstairs and into the short entrance hallway where MacGyver was waiting by the front door, wearing his brown leather jacket and sunglasses. "Five minutes," she panted.
"A new speed record," he noted dryly. "Hope this won't become a habit." He offered her a brown paper bag with a teasing flourish. "Your lunch, milady. Made it for you myself."
"Thanks." She stashed it in in her backpack. "Let's get outta here before I lose my nerve and decide to stay on the couch for the rest of the day." Mac chuckled as he followed her out the door.
The high school was only a mile from the apartment, but they had to cross a major intersection of Santa Monica Boulevard- incredibly busy at that hour- and several stop lights before finally pulling up to the main entrance of the high school, five minutes after the first bell. Becky picked up her backpack and reached for the jeep's door, then stopped, biting her lip.
Mac raised an eyebrow at her reluctance. "Scared?"
"I guess so." She took a deep breath. "What is it they say? Today is the first day of the rest of your life, or something like that. "
He nodded. "I've heard of it."
"It's true, isn't it? For me it's not only the first day of school, but also the rest of my life, in a way."
"Sure is. You'll do fine."
"I know. But wish me luck anyway?" She smiled tremulously at him.
MacGyver grinned in return. "You got it. I'm goin' back home now to work on the files for a while, then later over to the Foundation. Don't forget your appointment with Dr. Morgan after school; I'll meet you in Pete's office when you're done."
She nodded. "Okay. Love you, Unc."
"Love you too, sweetheart. Have a good day." He leaned over, kissing her cheek. She returned it, then got out of the jeep; Mac drove away after a final wave.
Becky looked up at the rather imposing building, two stories of mellow golden brick with a red tile roof. She climbed the steps and hesitated before opening the main doors, memories of past first school days- every one she could recall as awkward or embarrassing- flickering through her mind.
Finally she sighed. Get a grip, girl. Clean slate, right? You can do this.
Once inside she looked around the large entrance hallway, two stories tall with one wall covered in large window panes. The door in the wall to her right had the words Main Office emblazoned on the frosted glass and she pushed it open, revealing a quiet room with a number of secretaries working at their desks.
One of them looked up at her as she entered and asked, "Can I help you?"
"Yeah, hi. It's my first day and the enrollment letter told me to come here for my schedule and other things." She smiled shyly.
"Your name?"
"Rebecca Grahme."
The secretary rummaged around her desk for a moment and then pulled out a file. "Yes, here we are." She pulled out some papers from the folder and handed them to Becky. "Now, the top sheet there is your schedule, the second is your locker number and combination, and the rest are some things your guardian needs to sign. Did you fill out the emergency cards?"
Becky searched through her backpack and handed them to her. "Here you go."
"Thanks," the secretary said. "It's Homeroom right now, yours is in room 272."
"Where is that?"
"Up the main staircase to the second floor, turn right, go down to the end of the hall and make another right."
"Thank you." Becky left the office and headed up the wide center staircase. The hallways followed a classic school layout, lined with lockers and numbered doors. She encountered a few students on the way, either going somewhere themselves or simply killing time. Each one stared as she passed them by but she swallowed and looked straight ahead, a tenseness to her body as the shyness built an invisible wall around her.
She turned a corner and soon saw the door to her assigned classroom. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Here goes nothing, she thought, and knocked.
A Hispanic, middle-aged woman dressed in a skirt and blouse opened the door. "Can I help you?"
"Yes, I'm supposed to be here for Homeroom." She handed her the schedule.
The teacher read it and nodded. "You must be our new student, Rebecca Grahme. I'm Mrs. Martinez. You're late; try not to be from now on."
Becky ducked her head. "Yes, ma'am. Sorry. I just moved here."
The teacher held the door open and she walked in, noticing that the typically noisy class went quiet at her entrance. "So Rebecca, where are you from originally?"
"Oregon." She felt her cheeks flush under the scrutiny of her peers, knowing full well they were taking in everything- petite form, reddish-brown hair, glasses, clothes- and automatically classifying her, probably as a nerd.
She mentally shook herself. C'mon girl. Remember what Uncle Mac said. You can handle this.
"You can sit right back there, last seat by the window."
"Yes, ma'am. Thank you." She took a step down the aisle, her foot suddenly tangling with a chair leg and fell forward with her arms out in front of her, palms stinging from the impact with the hard linoleum floor.
"Clumsy twit." A girl with an aquiline nose and tanned complexion stared at her disdainfully, tossing her long blond hair with a sniff. Shamefaced, Becky grabbed at her backpack before rising and making her way past other snickering students. Mrs. Martinez silenced the class with a look and turned back to the chalkboard.
As she took her seat a girl sitting across from her smiled sympathetically. "Don't mind Lori Saperson and the others. They're like that to anyone new who isn't blond, gorgeous and obviously rich," she whispered, rolling her green eyes. "Katie Lynch." She had red hair, high cheekbones and creamy, freckled skin.
"Becky Grahme." She gingerly took the proffered hand and shook it.
"So you're new here?" The teacher glanced at them and frowned. "We'll talk later," the girl said with a wink.
The bell rang ten minutes later and the class let out a collective sigh of relief, rising and gathering their things. "Where are you headed next?" Katie asked.
"My locker, if I can find it."
"Let me see your papers." Becky gladly handed them over. The redhead stared at them for a few seconds. "You're in a lot of the same classes as I am. Spanish and French, wow. Language nerd, huh? Me, too." She grinned and Becky found herself smiling in return. "Ah, you've got Mrs. Avery for Music this afternoon; she's good, you'll like her. And your locker is number 865. I know where that is."
"865?" Becky repeated incredulously.
"Yeah. Anything wrong with that?"
"No, it's part of the address of the house I used to live in with my family. Kinda weird, is all."
"Did you move here with them?" Katie asked as they walked out of the classroom.
"No. My parents and older brother died a few weeks ago." She blinked to hold back sudden tears. The memory was still pretty painful. Dr. Morgan had said that was to be expected; the best thing to do was make peace with it and not let grief rule her life. Easier said than done, though.
"I'm real sorry to hear that. Who are you living with now?"
"My Uncle MacGyver. He recently became my legal guardian."
"What does he do?"
"He works at a think tank in Santa Monica. Sort of a problem-solver. Does a lot of interesting things." It was the simplest description she could come up with for what Mac did at Phoenix.
Katie led her down a hallway she hadn't seen yet. "Your locker's this way."
"Quite the crowd," Becky noted as they threaded their way through the milling throng of students.
"Yeah," the redhead laughed. "It's a pretty big school. We got all types here- cool kids, wannabes, goths, jocks, nerds like you and me. If you're even a little weird you'll fit in fine." She winked and Becky smiled. After a short walk they reached her locker. "Right here," she pointed out. "And mine's down there a little ways."
Becky spun the combination lock and opened it, shoving jacket and backpack inside. A piece of paper fell out as she extracted notebook and pencils for the next period; Katie picked it up. "Hey, you dropped this."
"Thanks." She glanced at it, smiling as she read:
Hey sweetheart,
Hope you're having a great first day!
Looking forward to seeing you after school.
Love, Mac
"That from your uncle?"
"Yeah. Guess he wanted me to give me some words of encouragement." She tucked the note into the backpack before shutting the locker door. "I've known him since I was a baby. There's a great-grandfather in Minnesota, but really it's just the two of us."
"I've got three older brothers and a younger sister, along with the parental units," Katie admitted as they moved through the crowd on the way to their next class. "Dad's a landscape designer and Mom works for a big talent agency, answering phones. It's nice that you have someone who'll look after you, instead of going to a foster home."
"It is. We're pretty close."
The redhead stopped in front of a door. "Here's your class- U.S. History I with Mr. Collins. I've got English now myself, but I'll see you after that for Chemistry; maybe we'll be lab partners. And come find me at lunch period."
"Sure. Thanks a lot for your help, Katie."
"No problem. See you later." She turned and headed down the hall; Becky opened the door and entered the crowded classroom, finding a seat as the bell rang.
Several hours later Becky stood in the huge courtyard where students gathered for lunch, trying not to openly stare at the crowd of teenagers passing around her. There were a lot more races and socioeconomic classes represented than she had been used to seeing, growing up; Salem was the capitol city, but to see that sheer variety she would've had to visit Portland, which was larger and more sophisticated. And, she suddenly realized, this was but a small cross-section of the area's entire population! The idea almost boggled her mind. Better get used to it quick, girl, she thought, since this is your new reality.
At that moment, however, finding a place to sit and eat was first priority. In theory she could sit anywhere she pleased, but in practice it was not a good idea to try pushing in where she would not be welcome. School was a matter of cliques no matter where she went, and an outcast's life in such an emotionally-charged atmosphere was barely worth living. She knew Uncle Mac loved her no matter what and his friends were great, but she really needed to make some her own age. But where to start? Please god, don't let me wind up a goat. I don't think I could stand it.
"Hey, Grahme!" Katie waved to her from under a shade tree. "Come on over." She turned to her cluster of friends. "She's new, moved here from up north. Language and music nerd, like us." The other girls nodded approvingly and made room for her at the picnic table, exchanging handshakes, names and other tidbits once Becky approached: Stacey Nguyen, Callista Papadakis, Donnie Adams, Marya Aidell.
"Where did you live, up north?" Stacey asked. Her parents ran one of the largest Asian supermarkets in town. "I've got a cousin in Seattle, he's a programmer at Microsoft."
"Not that far. I'm from Oregon. Salem, actually, the capital city."
"What do your parents do?" Callista- or Callie, as she insisted- spoke with a slight accent, not surprising since her dad worked at the Greek Consulate-General.
Becky took a bite of her sandwich- the lunch Mac made wasn't half bad, she had to admit- and silently wondered if everyone she met that day was going to ask that question. "They're dead." The others made sympathetic noises. "I'm living with my uncle."
"He works at a think tank in Santa Monica," Katie added.
Sitting to her right, Marya- tall with wheat-blonde hair and dimpled chin- raised an eyebrow. "Oh, the Phoenix Foundation? My dad's a scientist there. Some kind of climatology research. Small world, huh?"
"Sure is."
"Slumming, Aidell?" Becky turned to see the snobbish blonde from Homeroom glaring at them, members of her clique trailing behind her. "They'll let just anyone in here these days, won't they? Can't imagine what you see in these people."
"Mind your own business, Lori," Marya said, annoyed. "I'm not one of your sycophants anymore, so why should you care?"
Becky watched their byplay with concern. Obviously there was more going on than met the eye. She leaned over to Katie, whispering, "Something happened between them?"
"Marya used to be friends with her, before they had a falling out. Don't know what about, though."
Lori's cold gaze passed over everyone, eyes narrowing when she noticed Becky among their number. "Mark my words, Aidell. Soon enough you'll get bored with these clumsy twits. They're not good enough for you."
"Get lost, Saperson," Katie finally snapped. "Go pick on someone your own size." The blonde gave a final disdainful sniff, tossed her hair and left, her clique following behind.
"She's spoiling for a fight," Callie muttered. "Since you joined us she's been keen on getting even, Marya."
"No doubt, but there's very little we can do about it right now." She frowned. "She did seem snarkier than ever today. Wonder why?"
"Never mind her," said Donnie, whose dad was apparently one of the first major African-American movie producers in town. "Let's talk about more important things. I heard Roxy Yates is coming out with a new album soon. And have you seen the new adventure series on ABC yet?" She mentioned the title and name of the lead actor. "God, he's gorgeous, athletic and so smart. Dark eyes to die for."
With the tension gone, the group laughed and chatted easily as they continued their lunch, including Becky in the conversation and generally putting her at ease. She found herself relaxing, amazed at her luck in finding kindred spirits the very first day. As simple as that, huh? Maybe Unc was right- being a nerd isn't such a bad thing, after all.
Finally school was over and Becky stood by the bus stop near the main entrance, gazing at the posted lists of routes and schedules. She was rapidly becoming acquainted with the transit system- out of necessity since she wasn't able to drive yet- but figuring out which route to take to get where was proving to be more of a challenge than she had anticipated. With my luck I'll wind up in Santa Ana instead of Santa Monica, she thought wryly.
"Catching the bus home?"
She turned to see Marya smiling down at her; she was, as it turned out, in the same afternoon Spanish class, and made a good partner for conversation. At least she was nice, unlike that snob Saperson. Becky hoped she wouldn't get caught in the middle of their feud; the contemptuous look in Lori's eyes frankly gave her the chills.
"I have to get to the Phoenix Foundation, but I'm not entirely sure which route is the best one to take."
"I know how to get there from here," Marya said. "Tell you what. My brother Luke has a car, why don't I get him to give you a ride when he picks me up?"
"Are you sure it'll be okay? I wouldn't want to impose if he's got other things to do."
The blonde smirked. "No problem at all. He won't mind. Besides, he owes me."
Five minutes later a sporty red car screeched to a halt at the curb. "Hey Marya, come on!" The driver was a boy with floppy, wheat-blond hair in leather jacket and sunglasses; like his sister he had high cheekbones and a dimpled chin. "We gotta get going."
"Hold your horses, already. Becky, this is my brother Luke. Luke, meet Becky. She needs a ride to Dad's workplace. Think you can do that?"
He lowered his sunglasses- revealing deep blue eyes- and gave a lopsided grin. "Sure thing, sis. Hop in." Marya opened the door so Becky could climb in the back and took the front passenger seat for herself. They barely had time to fasten their seat belts before the car sped off, heading west.
"Do your parents work at the Foundation?" Luke asked her. "Marya probably told you our dad's a scientist there."
"It's my uncle, actually. He's kind of a troubleshooter. Travels a lot, does different things. Works for Mr. Thornton, specifically."
He raised an eyebrow at her reflection in the rear view mirror, and even Marya looked impressed. "Your uncle's MacGyver? The guy who uses all kinds of stuff in weird ways? Dad's mentioned him at home a few times. He sounds pretty cool."
"He is," she noted with a sense of quiet pride. "I just moved in with him a few weeks ago, he's my legal guardian. We get along okay."
"What happened to your parents?"
"Don't be so nosy, Luke," Marya snapped.
"It's okay," Becky said. "They died a few weeks ago, along with my older brother. I still miss them."
"Sorry to hear that," Luke replied. All too soon they arrived at a familiar office building. "Here you go." Marya pulled the front seat back so Becky could climb out.
"Thanks a lot for the ride. Nice to meet you, Luke." She smiled shyly, thinking he was kind of cute.
"No problem," he replied with that lopsided grin and a wink. "Maybe I'll see you again someday, at one of the work functions Dad attends. You can introduce me to your uncle."
"Sure. See you Monday, Marya?"
"Sure thing. Have a good weekend."
"You too." Becky watched the car speed off, then entered the building. She waved at the security guard at the reception desk, who nodded back in familiar fashion as she headed for the bank of elevators.
On the ride up she wondered about the impending session. Fortunately Dr. Morgan- who happened to be head of the Foundation's Psychology Department- was fairly easy to talk with and their discussions touched so smoothly on many areas that Becky hardly realized until later she was being analyzed. Mac had even met once with the therapist since returning to L.A., and admitted later to Becky the talk had helped to put some things in perspective.
"According to Harry," he had remarked, "memories and fears lose some of their power in the sharing. Your mom believed it, too, being a psychologist. Guess they're both right." Becky hoped she could meet her great-grandfather in person one day, as he sounded like a very wise man.
The elevator doors opened and she stepped out, walking down the hallway to the office and pushing the door open. Bonnie, the receptionist, was at the desk, typing on the computer. She nodded a greeting. "You can go right in."
"Thanks." The inner office was warm and cozy instead of cold and clinical, with woven wall hangings interspersed among professional certificates, comfortable seating and potted plants by the window. It reminded Becky of her mother's old office at the university in Salem. "Hi, Dr. Morgan."
"It's Elizabeth, remember?" The therapist smiled warmly, reaching for a pen. She was African-American, a motherly sort of woman possessing a sharp mind behind tortoiseshell glasses and beaded rows of dark hair. "I hear it was your first day back at school. How did it go?"
Becky smiled faintly, settling down in the plush chair in front of her desk. "It was...interesting, all things considered."
An hour later she took the elevator up to Pete's floor. The therapy session had gone pretty well, mostly chatting about what happened during the day and how she felt, nothing too intense. Gotta admit it's good to have someone who'll listen without judgement. Mom was much the same way; maybe that's why I don't mind these appointments so much.
She entered through the double doors of the outer office, exchanging nods and waves to several employees as she passed them by. She stopped at the secretary's desk right before the door to Pete's office. "Hi, Helen. Is Uncle Mac here yet?"
The older woman smiled. "He is, Becky. Go on in."
When she entered she found the two men working at the desk, with MacGyver perched on a corner, a long leg swinging as he flipped through files. He looked up, a big grin lighting his face. "Hey, there you are." He set the papers down, hopping off the desk to pull her against him in a warm hug, backpack and all.
"Unc, you're holding me too tight. I can't breathe!"
"Sorry, Beck," he said, releasing her. Pete chuckled. "Missed you more than I thought I would, that's all. So how did it go?"
"Pretty good, I think. Classes seem okay. I might've even made some new friends." And perhaps an enemy, though I won't tell him that right now. "Good session with Dr. Morgan, as well."
He beamed at her. "That's terrific. I knew you'd have a great day."
"Your backpack looks pretty heavy," noted Pete. "Lots of schoolwork for the weekend?"
She hefted the bag- now loaded with textbooks for every subject- with a rueful smile. "Yeah, and then some. Current assignments, plus some catch-up work since I missed the first few lessons. No rest for the wicked, apparently!" The two men laughed. "Are we going home soon?"
"Nah, gotta stick around a while longer. You can get started on it while I finish up. Can we find a spare desk around somewhere for her, Pete?"
"Actually Mac, we can finish this down in the lab. So why don't you stay here, Becky? That way you'll have some peace and quiet to do your work." He stood up and gestured towards his desk. "I'll make sure Helen picks up any calls so you aren't disturbed."
"That'll be great. Thanks." She slid into his chair with a grateful smile; it didn't take much adjusting for her to be comfortable.
Mac scooped up the files, then bent to kiss the top of her head. "See you in a bit. Fong Loo's okay for dinner?"
"Sure, Unc. Sounds good." She pulled out textbooks and got to work as they left.
At the Chinese restaurant they sat at their usual table and chatted about the day over his Szechuan chicken with rice and her sweet-and-sour shrimp with lo mein. After Becky described her classes and the new friends she had made, MacGyver recounted his meeting with a professor- an expert in the field of underwater archaeology- while investigating an increase in real-life piracy around the sites of shipwrecked Spanish galleons off the Southern California coast.
"So do you like her?"
"Who?"
"The professor, Dr. Ortega. You called her Barbara. Is she cute?"
He shrugged. "She's pretty, but I gotta admit the story of the sunken treasure interested me more at the time, though."
"You thinking of asking her out?"
"I don't know yet. Maybe when I'm done with the assignment. Why so curious? You tryin' to play matchmaker for me, Beck?"
"Well, I certainly wouldn't mind having an aunt eventually. Can't blame me for trying." She giggled and Mac shook his head at her teasing.
The waitress came by, offering two fortune cookies on a tray with the check. Becky took hers, cracking it open and reading the fortune with a groan. "Oh, for crying out loud."
"What's it say?"
"You're not gonna believe it."
"I'll take my chances. C'mon, tell me already."
"Today is the first day of the rest of your life. Make it count." She rolled her eyes. "Is that corny or what?"
He took the paper slip from her and chuckled. "Yeah, a bit. But appropriate, too. Remember us talking about it this morning? You could say this is the first day of the rest of both our lives but it's also been the first week, since the courts finally approved my legal status as your guardian last Friday." He reached over, holding her smaller hand in his larger one and giving it an affectionate squeeze. "Don't worry about a thing. You'll be fine. We'll be fine. We'll figure this out together."
"Yeah, we will." She squeezed his hand in return before releasing it. "So what does your fortune say?"
He opened his cookie. "Be good to family over the next four years."
She snorted. "It doesn't say that." He nodded, showing her the fortune. "Unbelievable. It's like somebody's trying to tell us something, isn't it?"
He chuckled. "You gotta wonder. It's good advice for us though, isn't it? Being good to each other. I think we can try if we put our minds to it." He raised his teacup, eyes twinkling at her over the rim. "Well, Niece Becky, how am I doin' so far, as your dad?"
"Not bad, Uncle Mac. Not bad at all." They grinned at each other, clinking their cups together in a toast.
When they entered the apartment, it was all Becky could do to keep from collapsing. "Jeez, what a long day. I'm worn out."
Mac went to the small console table, tossing the day's mail in a basket. "Good thing it's Friday then, isn't it. Why don't you go sack out for a while in the living room, then later we'll watch one of those videos we rented. I'll even make popcorn."
She grimaced at the couch. "Nah. Not when I'm gonna be sleeping on it later."
"So go upstairs instead. Get comfortable in your new bed."
She turned to him in surprise. "You mean...?"
"You forgot, didn't you? Fortunately the delivery came while I was still here working on the files. Go check it out, already."
"Oh, yeah!" Weariness forgotten, Becky dashed up the stairs to her room, flinging open the door to reveal the new furniture in all its glory: bookcases next to the closet, long dresser fitting exactly on the wall to the left of the door, and desk for homework with its chair under the window on the right. Her eyes fell upon the full-sized bed standing out from the wall opposite her- black metal with gorgeous, swooping curves that she had fallen in love with at the store; the box spring, mattress, and pillows had even been set up and covered in new bed linens with abstract floral patterns in shades of green, purple and blue, her favorite colors. The moving boxes had been stacked neatly against the closet door.
"So what do you think?" She turned and found MacGyver grinning at her, leaning against the doorway with arms folded. "You like the arrangement, or do we need to call in a professional designer?"
Becky found herself unable to keep a matching smile off her face. "I love it. You even put the sheets on and everything. It looks great." She removed her shoes and sat on the bed, leaning against the pillows. "Oooh, this is comfy. Much better than the guest bed for sleeping in. Or the couch, for that matter."
"Well, I aim to please," Mac quipped, taking off his own shoes and settling himself beside her. His arm curved around her as she rested her head on his chest. "Glad you like it. You really had a good first day of school, huh?"
"Yeah, I did. Think it'll be okay." There was a comfortable silence for a while, each enjoying the closeness and shared warmth. "Thanks, Unc."
"For what?"
"For letting me stay with you, and taking care of me." She looked up at him shyly. "I don't think I could ask for a better guardian, or best friend."
"You're welcome, sweetheart. Now I think it's couch-potato time, don't you? Go wash up in the bathroom and change into your pajamas, then meet me downstairs. I'll have the popcorn ready before you know it."
"Yes, dad."
Mac chuckled. "Think I won't mind you calling me that for the next few years. See you downstairs." He kissed her forehead and got up off the bed.
Before following him out the door Becky paused to gaze around the room with a smile. This was her home for the next few years- or even longer- and she could imagine it filled with everything she liked best in the world, including her uncle and any new friends who might visit. Anything could happen in the future, and she was looking forward to it with enthusiasm.
No, not a bad first day at all, she thought with a smile- the first day of school, and of the rest of her life with her uncle.
-End-