Note: Takes place before the events of Family Resemblance Part II.
Oh, how can spring take heart to come
To a world in grief
Deep grief?
Sara Teasdale, Spring in War-Time (1917)
- Early Spring, 1990 -
"It's probably not the best hot chocolate," Pete said as he set a steaming Styrofoam cup in front of her. "But it should at least keep you warm. Is there anything else I can get you, Becky? Something to eat?"
"No, this is fine. Thanks." The 18-year-old took a sip of the hot beverage. The older man set his cup of coffee down, then took his seat across from her at the table with a weary sigh. "Are you okay, Pete?"
"Better than I was a few hours ago." He smiled ruefully. "With everything that happened today to MacGyver, I feel like I've been on an emotional roller coaster. I'm getting too old to keep up with him."
"You're not old," Becky told him firmly, "and I'm glad you were able to catch the guy who did this to him. If you hadn't been here, and Uncle Mac died instead-" She struggled to swallow the lump forming in her throat, then shook her head, unable to continue. Pete merely nodded his understanding and they sipped at their respective drinks, each lost in thought.
He had been waiting for Becky in front of the apartment when she came home from school earlier that afternoon. Through the unique bond she shared with her uncle she'd known something had happened to him; one look at Pete's distressed expression confirmed it. On the way to the hospital she heard the whole story- the word of Grandpa Harry's death while they were providing security for the museum's exhibit of priceless Egyptian artifacts, Mac's attempt to stop the thief and his fall off the building, the efforts by the doctors to save his life despite their certainty he wouldn't make it, then finally how he'd inexplicably revived to identify his attacker.
It was all so incredible she couldn't blame Pete for feeling his age when it came to dealing with his best friend. She felt like she had aged ten years herself upon seeing Mac lying in that bed, eyes sunken, face pale and lined with weariness. He was so quiet and still she'd half feared he was in a coma, but the nurse assured her he was just sleeping, pointing to the activity on the monitor nearby. Since they didn't want him disturbed at so critical a time, Pete had suggested they go wait in the hospital's cafeteria until he was more fully aware of his surroundings.
Harry was gone. Apparently from a heart attack, based on what Pete had heard from Mac at the time. He'd been fishing with a neighbor's kid, telling him stories of his grandson and great-granddaughter way out in California, when it happened. He'd been rushed to the hospital, but died soon after being admitted.
It was strange, she mused, how she'd never even gotten to know Harry until after her folks had died. She'd known he had helped Grandma Ellen raise her two children after his wife and son-in-law died in the car accident, but very little else about him had been volunteered over the years. According to Mom, he'd been a lot closer to Mac than to her growing up.
The first time Becky had met Harry was when he came to visit that first December after she came to live with MacGyver. She remembered seeing him at the bus station: tall and grizzled, with rugged features and a wide-brimmed hat. She'd been a little intimidated at first by his gruff demeanor, but soon discovered he was as kind and caring as his grandson.
The next time she'd seen him was for Mac's surprise birthday party a month later. He'd stayed with them for a week afterwards, going on fishing trips up in the Sierra Mountains, teaching her to play checkers, telling stories and generally spending time with his grandson and great-granddaughter. After that they'd kept in touch mostly through letters; she recalled the last one he'd written, telling her how much he was actually looking forward to coming out and seeing her graduate in June.
Now he never would. She wiped away a tear falling down her cheek. I'll miss you, Grandpa Harry. I hope you're happy wherever you are.
Within just a few hours, Becky suddenly realized, she could have been left completely alone in the world, without any family at all. Not only had her great-grandfather died, but she'd almost lost her uncle- best friend, protector and confidant since she was a baby- as well.
She honestly thought she'd gotten used to the idea by now, though, after living with MacGyver for the past four years. His occupation as troubleshooter for the Phoenix Foundation- not to mention all the various other escapades he'd been involved in- had certainly made her fully aware of how close he came to death on a regular basis. And amazingly he always survived, made it back to her when she needed him most. How many times over the years, she wondered, had she visited him in the hospital like this, or nursed his injuries at home? How much longer could his luck hold out, really?
Losing Mac for good was terrible to contemplate. Today had been way too close to death for her liking.
Too darn close.
Becky considered asking him to resign from the Foundation, to find a less dangerous line of work; she knew he would if she asked. But he truly loved what he did, loved being able to make a positive difference in the world, even though it meant risking his life. Because of that she'd never ask him to resign.
Not to mention he'd be bored doing anything else, really. A faint smile touched her lips at the thought.
But no matter what happened, she knew she'd always be at his side to provide love and support when needed, as he'd be there in turn for her. For the past few years it was Mac and Becky against the world, and now with Harry gone it was even more so. Though they both had made many good friends along the way, they were the only living family each other had left.
The sound of a throat being discreetly cleared startled Becky from her thoughts. She and Pete looked up at the thin man in doctor's scrubs and coat standing in front of them, dark hair greying at the temples. "Excuse me. Mr. Thornton? Miss-" consulting his clipboard, "Grahme? I'm Dr. Villanova. I'm looking after Mr. MacGyver."
"How is he?" Pete asked.
"He's stable for now, doing remarkably well considering all he'd been through today. I'm concerned about the possibility of paralysis, so I'd like to keep him here for several days, maybe a week or two. Just to make sure there's no lasting neurological damage, and that he has full use of his body."
"Do you think I can talk to him yet?" Becky asked. "I'd really like to if he's awake."
Villanova blinked, then checked his clipboard again. "I don't see why not. He was more responsive when I saw him a few minutes ago. Not for too long, though. You can certainly come back tomorrow as well."
"Thank you, Dr. Villanova," Pete said, rising to shake his hand; Becky did the same. "We appreciate your coming to see us in person." The doctor nodded at them and departed.
Having finished their drinks, the young woman collected the cups and tossed them in a nearby trash can. She watched the Director of Operations gather their coats, regarding his portly figure, his balding features lined with a mixture of relief and concern for his best friend.
"Pete." She placed a hand on his arm. "I really am glad you were here when Uncle Mac needed you most. You're such a good friend to both of us. Thank you for everything." On impulse she hugged him; he returned it with a smile.
"You're welcome, Becky. I owe Mac my life so many times over, it's the least I can do. Now let's go see how he's doing."
From the doorway of the private room they could see MacGyver sitting up in bed, leaning against the pillows. He was staring out the window but turned his head when Becky and Pete stepped inside. He smiled faintly, too exhausted even to speak.
"Hi, Uncle Mac. You...You're-" The young woman suddenly found it hard to say any more. "Harry's-" she managed to choke out, then tears started to stream down her face. Behind her Pete smiled sympathetically at his friend and closed the door, leaving them alone.
For a long time all she could do was stare at him. He almost died, she thought.
It was finally too much to bear. She rushed to the bed and collapsed against him, sobbing. "Oh Unc, Grandpa Harry's gone, and I could've lost you today as well. I would never have gotten to say goodbye. I love you so much. I don't know what I'd do without you."
She felt a hand lightly touch her and looked up to see his gentle smile, the deep brown eyes full of understanding and love. For another long while they stayed like that, her head on his chest, his hand on her hair. They quietly enjoyed each other's company until Pete stepped inside to tell them visiting hours were over.
"The doctor said I could see you again tomorrow. I'll come every day you're here, if that's okay," she promised. Mac nodded weakly in acknowledgment. Becky kissed his cheek, wiped away more tears, and left. Being alone at home while he was recovering here in the hospital would be tough, but she hoped she could handle it.
Her uncle was alive. That was all that mattered.
During the entire length of MacGyver's stay in the hospital Becky was true to her word. After school and during the weekends she sat in his room and did her homework, or read, or worked on one of her cross-stitching projects while they watched TV. They kept their conversations light and positive, not at all ready to discuss Harry or his own near-death experience. The nurses all came to know her, greeting her by name, bringing food up from the cafeteria so they could eat together, letting her nap in the nurses' lounge when needed. When visiting hours were over she drove the jeep home to take care of the apartment and get ready for the next day's activities.
Pete and Nikki visited whenever they could get away from their duties at the Foundation, and Jack and Penny often stopped by to say hello. Soon the hospital room filled with cards and flowers from other well-wishers, proving just how much he was loved and respected.
It was a good thing she'd gotten used to Mac's erratic schedule over the years, Becky mused to herself one day, otherwise his absence would've been unbearable. As it was, those first few nights alone had definitely called for sessions with her favorite "security blanket"- Mac's beat-up, brown leather jacket- just so she could get to sleep. But gradually as time went on and his health improved she was able to leave it in his closet again.
As the days went on Mac regained more and more of his strength, surprising the hospital staff with the speed of his recovery.
"You're doing very well, MacGyver," Dr. Villanova noted one morning. "Certainly making a lot more progress than I'd have expected at this point."
"I think it's the company I'm keepin' lately that's helping with it," he replied with a smile, reaching over to affectionately caress Becky's cheek. She blushed, taking his hand in hers.
"Well, having someone around who loves you certainly doesn't hurt. There's no sign of lasting spinal or neurological damage on any of your scans that I can see, so I think we can start you on physical therapy right away. Becky can even take you outside in a wheelchair this afternoon, if you like."
"It'd be great to get some fresh air, Unc," she agreed. "The flowers are starting to open. It's finally getting warmer out there."
Mac nodded. "Then let's do it."
The wheelchair moved smoothly over the paved pathways covering the hospital grounds, stopping only when a suitable place was found for Becky to take a break. She set the brakes, kissed MacGyver on the cheek, and sat down. "Nice day, isn't it?"
"Sure is." Uncle and niece both closed their eyes, enjoying the Spring weather, the birds singing in the trees and the delicate scent of flowers beginning to bloom. "You know, we haven't spent this much time together in a long while."
"You're right, Unc," she yawned, the sun's warmth making her sleepy. Mac's wheelchair was just close enough and the bench the right height so she was able to stretch out, laying her head on his lap.
He chuckled, reaching carefully down to kiss her cheek, the long fingers gently stroking her hair. "You haven't done this in a while, either. I've missed our cuddle time back home on the couch."
"Not my fault," she murmured. "You're the one running off to England, Russia, the Middle East, or down to South America. Or helping Jack with one of his ridiculous schemes. Or any of those other things you've been involved in lately. Between your schedule and mine we barely managed to touch base with each other as it is."
"True." His hand moved to slowly trail over her face and neck. "Still, I'm glad you're here with me now. Harry always said healing goes faster when there's someone to share it with." He chuckled again, "Course, he only told me that whenever I got sick as a kid to let Mom or Allison take care of me. Otherwise I'd just want to hole up in my room and tough it out alone."
"Sounds like he could talk you into doing anything," Becky said, chuckling herself. Then she sighed, sadly. "Harry. Even though I only got to see him a few times, I still miss him. I'm glad I got to call him Grandpa."
"He told me once it was better than bein' called Great-Grandpa. You were lucky. He only wanted Allison and me to call him by his first name since he said being a grandfather made him feel old."
She smiled faintly. "Well, wherever he is now, I hope he has a good fishing hole nearby. Someplace where he can be happy."
MacGyver's hands stopped their caresses; she looked up to see him staring at the blue sky, a wistful- yet strangely serene- expression on his ruggedly handsome features. "You know something, Becky?" he murmured. "I really think he is."
The rain dripped off the trees and onto the umbrella in a rhythmic pattern as they slowly walked along the cemetery path one month later. Springtime in Oregon, Becky thought. Liquid sunshine. Some things never change. Cold drops landed on her shoulder and she leaned into MacGyver, feeling his arm reach around to hold her close.
Finally they stopped at a gravestone, gazing solemnly at the words engraved upon it:
GRAHME
Michael David, Allison Cassandra (MacGyver), Christopher James
Born 1945, 1948, 1968
Died August 23, 1986
Beloved Family
Gone But Never Forgotten
Becky stepped forward and knelt down, resting a hand lightly on the grass. "I miss you," she said softly. "Mom, Dad, Chris. I think about you every day. But Uncle Mac and I know you're happier wherever you are now, and we know Harry's with you too. We're doing okay. At least we have each other." She breathed in the scent of evergreens and just-opening flowers, unable to tell the difference between the rain and the tears running down her face.
"I'm graduating from high school in June; I wish you could see it. I hope you can, somehow." She lifted her hand, kissing the fingers, then set it on the gravestone. "We love you guys. Always."
A large hand rested gently on her shoulder; she looked up to find MacGyver kneeling beside her, his own eyes bright with moisture, filled with affection. "We'd better get goin'," he said quietly. "We still have to get to Portland for the flight to Minnesota."
"I know." She allowed him to help her up. "It was a good idea, coming up on the freeway so we could stop here in Salem on the way to Harry's funeral. I think I was finally ready to do this." She blew a final kiss in the direction of the gravestone, then turned to embrace her uncle. "I love you, Mac."
"I love you too, Becky." Without another word they turned away from her family's grave, unaware of the seven spirits watching them leave. Finally one of them- a grizzled man wearing a wide-brimmed hat- spoke to their departing backs:
"And we love you both. Always."