A lot can happen in the span of four years, to a family.
Adventures, domestic and otherwise.
Love and laughter and cuddling together on the couch.
Assignments, either for school or the Phoenix Foundation.
Helping out friends, old and new alike.
Long hours waiting in emergency rooms, or by hospital beds.
Late nights reading or doing homework.
Walks on the beach, hikes in the mountains, fishing trips.
All sorts of crazy schemes, thanks to Jack Dalton and Penny Parker.
Eye rolls, wry smiles and gentle teasing.
Tears and hugs and hand-holding.
Always being there when times get tough.
And so much more.
Four years of countless things- big and small- they do for each other.
It's a crazy, improbable mess of a family life, yet Becky wouldn't change a single thing.
And neither would MacGyver.
-May, 1990-
A man of medium height with silver-white hair, trim mustache and wire-rimmed glasses stepped self-assuredly into the bank lobby, nodding at the security guards before heading straight for the manager's desk.
"Guten Tag," he greeted in a thick German accent. "My name is Josef Braun, and I wish to see my safe-deposit box."
"Certainly, sir. May I see your key and some identification?"
Soon Josef Braun was all alone, unlocking his numbered box in the specially-fortified room. Removing his glasses and placing them on the table.
They were merely for show anyway.
He wished he could remove the wig and mustache as they were beginning to itch mightily, but both were necessary for his current disguise.
He opened the lid, nodding with satisfaction at the assortment of currency, passports, and other necessary items stored for safekeeping. He had kept this box here in Los Angeles- under an assumed name, of course- for one reason, and one reason only.
Retirement. It was finally within reach.
After so many years he felt he had endured enough indignities and injuries as a professional assassin for HIT. Time to leave whilst on top, so to speak.
Acquiring enough money and assets for the task- stashing them in similar boxes and secret numbered accounts all over the world- had never been a problem.
No, the issue was merely surviving long enough to enjoy his ill-gotten gains in the first place.
He looked forward to settling someplace in comfortable anonymity. Taking up more sedate hobbies. Gardening, perhaps, or composing music. A peaceful, idyllic farm he once knew in Sussex came to mind.
Problem was, there was this one rather annoying loose end that couldn't be tied up no matter how twisted or elaborate the traps he'd planned so far. Enough was enough, surely.
Time to pull out all the stops, rid himself of the nuisance once and for all.
He reached into the box and pulled out a worn, plain file folder. Leafing through the contents out of habit, not bothering to read since he had already committed them to memory.
Blueprints for an old factory he owned on the outskirts of town, saved for this very purpose.
Listings for an apartment needed to carry out his surveillance.
Purchasing orders for a gross of C4 and detonating cord from a trusted and discreet vendor (HIT's accounting department, blast them, always insisted on itemized receipts).
Two photos caught his eye.
One a tall, ruggedly handsome man with dark brown eyes and golden hair that almost reached his shoulders in a shaggy cut, grinning back at him.
The other a petite young woman possessing her own sweet smile, guileless blue eyes behind glasses, softly curling auburn hair.
In appearance they could casually pass for father and daughter, though actually uncle and niece.
He knew their family histories and their current accomplishments but such details were of profound insignificance.
All that mattered was that the man was the annoying loose end, the young woman bait for the trap.
"MacGyver," Murdoc crooned. "Dear little Rebecca. I shall see you both far sooner that you can possibly expect."
His gaze lingered on Becky's photo a second longer before flipping the file shut and tossing it into his briefcase, along with the rest of the box's contents.
High time to set his plan into motion.
On the opposite side of the city that same afternoon, MacGyver slouched on the couch at home, watching the Kings play the Maple Leafs on TV, long legs propped on the coffee table and crossed at the ankles.
The front door burst open, then slammed shut.
He lazily glanced in the direction of the entrance hallway. "That you, Becky?"
No reply, except for footsteps hurrying up the stairs, the sound of another door slamming shut, and a muffled thump directly overhead.
Mac frowned. No warm smile for him, no usual kiss and cuddle on the couch after a long day at school? Not like his niece at all.
He regarded the TV for a second, then shook his head, switching it off.
This was more important than the hockey game. He needed to find out what was going on.
Besides, it was the end of the last period and the Kings were losing big anyway.
Becky's bedroom door sported a taped strip of paper with her name in purple and blue elegant calligraphy, from a local craft fair last week. Muffled crying could be heard within.
He knocked and waited for an answer; when there was none, tried again.
"Go away."
"Becky, it's me, Mac. What's going on?"
"I don't wanna talk about it."
"C'mon, just for a minute. Can I open the door, at least?"
A heavy sigh. "All right."
Sweet yet practical, feminine without being frilly, a room that described Becky's personality as much as her taste in decor.
One glance and everything important about her life for the past four years could easily be surmised.
Embroidered pictures of fairies, castles and dragons adorned the walls, while shelves flanking either side of the dresser under the window to his left held sci-fi and fantasy novels and a collection of figurines.
Photos of them together along with those of her parents and friends in frames around the room and casually stuck into the frame of a full-length mirror.
A desk for homework set up under another window across from the door, a weathered denim jacket dangling from its accompanying chair.
Seashells, sand dollars and beach glass arranged along the windowsills.
Bed linens and curtains in muted shades of green, purple, and blue.
Certainly much tidier and better organized than his own mess of a bedroom.
Afternoon sunlight through the skylight streamed across the full-sized bed to his right, playing with the copper highlights in Becky's auburn hair. Sprawled on her stomach, clutching a tear-stained pillow and occasionally sniffling into a tissue.
Hardly his usually cheerful and sweet-tempered niece.
"Hey, Unc," she said listlessly.
He offered a gentle smile. "Hey yourself. You okay?"
"Not really."
"Can I come in, or should I just keep standing here?"
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah Unc, come in. You can even sit on the bed, if you want."
"Thanks." An awkward silence for a while then he ventured, "You really sure you don't wanna talk about it?"
"You wouldn't understand, really. You're a guy, and older than me."
"Aw c'mon. I've had my share of problems too, you know, and I talked about some of them with you. Even though I knew you probably wouldn't understand them, being a girl and younger than me." Mac kept his voice light, gently teasing. "How about returning the favor, huh?"
He moved a little closer, reaching over to gently rub her back, feeling her quiver slightly under his touch. "C'mon sweetheart, you can tell me," he coaxed. "You know I'll do whatever I can to help. So what's going on?"
"I got dumped."
"What do you mean?"
Becky turned over onto her back, staring up through the skylight. "I'm saying I got dumped by Ben today. We're no longer going out together."
"Who's Ben?"
"You know, the guy I've been going out with this semester. He came over a couple times with my friends from choir, one of the male soloists."
Now he remembered meeting the boy last month, one of those rare times he was home when her friends came over. Medium build, with curly dark hair, almond-shaped aquamarine eyes and a charming smile. He seemed nice, but paid close enough attention to Becky to make Mac nervous.
One of the rare moments he actually felt like a protective parent.
Even though his status as her legal guardian had officially ended on her eighteenth birthday in February, there were times MacGyver still thought of his niece as a little girl. No matter how difficult the other challenges in his life, the toughest was coming to terms with her becoming a young woman, with all its attendant implications and concerns.
He can deal with terrorists, assassins, pirates, arms dealers and drug cartels. No problem.
So why is it he starts feeling so darn helpless whenever Becky gets together with boys?
"He's only the second boyfriend I've ever had, you know."
"The second?"
"Remember Luke?" Becky gestured to one of the photos stuck in the mirror frame. A tall boy with blue eyes, floppy blond hair and dimples, standing with her and his twin sister Marya, all three laughing at something off camera.
"He gave you your first kiss, right?"
"Yeah, the night of the accident on my sixteenth birthday, when I broke my wrist. He was really nice. We went out a few times after that, but then he graduated early last year and left for M.I.T. He promised he'd write, but I haven't heard from him lately."
"Sorry to hear that."
She shrugged indifferently. "I got over it, especially after I met Ben. When we started rehearsing together for the Winter concert last fall I thought he was cuter, smarter and more sensitive than any other guy in school; I fell for him pretty hard. Heck, he even escorted me to the Valentine's Day dance, so I naturally thought we had something going.
"Then out of the blue he dumped me today, Unc! For a cheerleader of all things, and the prettiest, perkiest one in school at that. You know what he told me at lunch?" Her voice wavered and tears again trickled down her face.
Mac reached over to the bedside table, pulled some tissues out of a box, and handed them to her, urging her to continue without saying a word. Becky dabbed at the tears, blew her nose, tossed the sodden tissue expertly into a nearby wastebasket.
"He said he wanted to go out with Cindy instead of me because she wanted to have more fun than I did. Can you believe that? He was ready to be more intimate and I wasn't, which apparently makes me boring. So he said he didn't want to go out with me anymore."
What she was saying was clear enough yet there was one detail that bothered him. "More intimate? What do you mean?"
A raised eyebrow. "Unc, I know how squeamish you get whenever I start talking about boys- or anything related to my body, for crying out loud. Do I really have to spell it out for you?"
Mac blanched. Too much information. Bad enough when Becky started having her periods three years ago. "Oh. That kind of intimate."
"Yeah. You think that makes me boring?"
MacGyver usually abhorred violence, yet it took all his self-control not to storm out at that moment, find the wretched boy and punch him in the nose for daring to break the heart of his best beloved niece.
Though upon due consideration, settling for gentle caresses and soothing, encouraging words was probably the wiser course of action.
"Nope, not at all. That makes you smart, not boring. I'm really sorry you got dumped, and I do understand. Everybody's been there at some point in their lives, including me."
"Really?"
"Uh-huh. It's just a part of growing up, don't worry too much about it. You're intelligent, caring, and compassionate; eventually someone in your life will see how very special you are, and ready to be intimate whenever you want to be, not before."
"Gee, I sure hope so."
"It'll happen, believe me. Though there's no need to put a rush on that, by the way. I'm not ready to have my girl grow up too fast on me, you know? Now c'mere." He leaned against the headboard and held out his arms, an open invitation to surrender herself to his warmth and love.
She did so with a small, contented sigh. "Sorry for bothering you with this, Unc. It's just I feel so alone right now, you know? Couldn't even get hold of Katie or anyone else to commiserate with me after school."
"No problem. You can bother me anytime, you know that. Besides, you know you're never alone with me around, right? I promise I won't dump you for another lady. No matter what."
"What are you talking about?"
"Well, I'm a boy, and I'm your friend, right? So that makes me your boyfriend. Makes sense to me."
He winked and she ducked her head, blushing. "That's silly."
"Yeah, but it's true, isn't it? Always remember I love you, Becky, even if Luke, Ben or any other guy doesn't. You'll always be my princess."
"I'll remember, Unc."
"Good." He bent to kiss her forehead, then gently ruffled her hair. "Now, I just happen to know of a sure-fire cure for a broken heart. So why don't you go wash up in the bathroom and I'll make my special dark chocolate with whipped cream. Okay?"
She blew her nose one final time, then nodded. "Yeah. Hot chocolate sounds real good right now."
"Terrific. See you downstairs."
"Uncle Mac?"
"Yeah?"
A faint, slightly wry smile, more like her old self. "Thanks for making me feel better."
He winked at her from the doorway. "What else are uncles for?"