Mid-Summer Gala

Sam stepped off the elevator and scanned the large, third floor room affectionately known as the bull pen by his fellow stringers. Flimsy partitions divided rows of computer desks into small cubicles and he soon found his prey tucked away in the far corner staring blankly at her monitor.

"Hey! How's my favorite crime beat reporter today?" he asked cheerily.

"Hi, Sam," Becca replied listlessly.

Rebecca Williams was a freelance journalist who, like Sam, had connections at the Tribune and impeccable references, yet she, like him, had been relegated to the role of stringer until a permanent position opened up. A couple years younger than Sam, she hailed from Kentucky but had moved to Chicago after graduating college in Santa Barbara. A bit short and a little on the chubby side, she generally wore her long brunette hair in a ponytail and her striking green eyes hidden behind glasses. She had been one of the first people Sam had met at the Tribune since she was always there searching for a story. Shy and reserved in the beginning, they eventually struck up an easy friendship. He was like a big brother to her and she was like the girl-next-door to him.

"You sound kinda down," Sam observed. "Maybe this'll help."

He handed her a tall, clear plastic take-out cup and she immediately recognized the bright yellow contents.

"A pineapple Slurpee!" she exclaimed, her face brightening as she took a long pull of the frozen beverage through the straw.

"Better?"

"Not really," she sighed, leaning back in her chair.

"C'mon Becca, talk to me," Sam said as he pulled up a chair next to hers. He made a face when she looked at him strangely. "What?!"

"You're the only person who calls me that," she told him thoughtfully.

Suddenly ashamed that he may have crossed some invisible boundary by calling her by a nickname Sam quickly backpedaled.

"I'm sorry. You should have let me know you didn't like it."

"It's not that," she replied with a genuine smile. "It's just that everyone I know always calls me 'Rebecca'. It's kinda nice that you don't." Her gaze suddenly slid to the floor and her cheeks began to turn pink. Sam suppressed a grin. It had been awhile since he caused a girl to flush.

"You gonna tell me what's bothering you?" he pressed.

"This." Rebecca slapped a square envelope of high quality paper down on her desk. "It's an invitation to the Annual Tri-State Fundraising Gala for Non-Profit Agencies. My editor assigned it to me because all of the other lifestyle writers have other functions to cover."

"So?"

"So, I'm a crime reporter! I don't do 'fluff' pieces. Especially ones that involve getting all dressed up and eating dainty finger foods just to garner inane quotes from people who have more money in their bank account than I'll ever see in my life!"

"It could be fun." Sam tried to sound encouraging as he perused the invitation. It certainly sounded like a dull way to spend an evening, but he thought women liked that sorta thing. Suddenly, he found himself pinned by emerald green eyes.

"I'm glad you feel that way. My editor wants pictures, too, so I told him you'd go as my photographer."

"Whoa! No! No way!" he protested.

"Why not? It could be fun," she responded with a sly smile.

Sam closed his eyes and sighed. He knew he was going to give in. There was something about Becca that made him always want her to see her happy.

"Alright. Just tell me when and where and I'll be there."

"It's Saturday night...in Milwaukee. I was kind of hoping you would give me a ride."

"Milwaukee?"

"Yeah. The three states take turns hosting it. Last year it was here in Chicago and the year before that it was in Minneapolis. I thought it would also be a good opportunity for you to visit your dad."

Sam couldn't argue with that, and he appreciated Becca's thoughtfulness, even if it was a means to her beneficial end.

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MacGyver was beginning to hate Mondays. When he worked for the DXS and Phoenix, he could never understand why people dreaded Mondays and looked forward to Fridays. Out in the field, hours blended into days, days became night and then day again. The focus was always on the mission at hand, not which day of the week it was. Since he had settled into a somewhat normal routine, he was beginning to see Mondays in a whole new light. Even though he still worked some nights and weekends, Mondays brought a special, and not very pleasant, feeling. Perhaps it was the pile of phone messages, or the stack of mail, or the ever-present to-do list of things to get accomplished by the end of the week. Yeah, there was just something about Mondays he didn't like and he had a feeling today was not going to be the exception.

Plopping down in his chair, he scrubbed his face with his hands before his eyes landed on a square envelope placed front and center on his desk between the piles of phone messages and bills. A yellow sticky note on the front read 'Don't Forget' in Cynthia's flowing handwriting. Mac sighed and reached for the envelope, carefully extracting a single piece of cardstock.

"You are cordially invited to the Annual Tri-State Fundraising Gala for Non-Profit Agencies to be held on-"

Mac's eyes widened and he barreled out of his office and into Cynthia's waving the invitation in her face without losing momentum.

"When were you going to tell me about this?!" he demanded. "It's this Saturday!"

"Calm down, MacGyver," Cynthia replied in her naturally soothing voice. "It was delivered several weeks ago but your mind was on other matters so I RSVP'd for both you and Joanna."

"Does she know?"

"Of course she does. She even bought a new dress for the occasion. Which reminds me, you can pick up your tux from the cleaners on Wednesday."

"What?! How did you even know I own a tux?!"

By now Joanna was peeking around the doorframe, probably to see what the ruckus was about.

"One night when you were working late I went by your place and did a little recon mission. I found it stuffed in the back of your closet," Jo explained.

"Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?" Mac's angry glare bounced between the two women who at least had the decency to appear slightly remorseful.

"We know how you feel about these things, MacGyver," Cynthia responded, her voice still calm and steady. "Besides, you've had so much going on lately there never seemed to be a good time to tell you."

Mac's anger deflated a bit. "Well, you're not wrong," he conceded. "But from now on remember that tampering with someone else's mail is a federal offense!" He then returned to his office, slamming the door closed so loudly it even made him wince. Yeah, there was just something about Mondays.

After an hour of staring at a spreadsheet on his computer, MacGyver heard a light tap on his door. When no one took the initiative to enter, he got up and opened it himself to find Joanna standing there, looking contrite.

"I'm sorry we kept the invitation from you. We really didn't mean to upset you."

Mac jammed his fingers through his hair. "Nah, I'm the one who needs to apologize. I was way out of line coming down on you and Cynthia like that. I don't know what got into me."

He noticed a small group of teens begin to take notice of their conversation and silently motioned Jo into his office and closed the door behind her. She looked timid and unsure. His heart squeezed. He went to stand in front of her, just close enough so that when he reached out his hands rested lightly on her hips. When she didn't pull away, he moved closer and tightened his grip.

"So, tell me more about this gala," he urged tenderly.

Joanna looked up, her eyes hopeful. "We were actually lucky to get invited since we've only been in existence a few months. I think the Phoenix Foundation might have had something to do with that." She stopped here and smiled a little. "Anyway, it's a great opportunity to meet leaders of organizations like ours as well as donors to aid with financial backing. If we hit it off with the right people, we may not have to solely rely on the Foundation for grants."

"Then I guess dusting off the ole penguin suit will be worth it," he replied with a crooked grin.

XXXXX

Late Wednesday afternoon, while trying to keep his freshly pressed tuxedo wrinkle-free, MacGyver opened his front door to a ringing telephone. Hanging the outfit on the railing of his staircase, he quickly answered the call.

"Hello?

"Hey dad! What's up?!"

"Hi Sam! How're you doin'?"

"I'm good. Listen, a friend of mine here at the Tribune is going to Milwaukee to cover a story this weekend and I'm coming along as the photographer. I was wondering if we could hang out and get ready at your place Saturday?"

"Sure!" Mac agreed, a wide smile on his face. Sam, like him, was pretty much a loner. But unlike him, Sam hadn't made any lifelong friends, not even someone like Jack Dalton. It was good to hear that Sam had a buddy to work with.

"Tell ya what," MacGyver continued, "Why don't you come up in the morning and we'll spend the day together. Joanna and I have an event to go to that evening but I don't want to waste one of your visits."

"I don't suppose your 'event' would be the fundraising gala? It sounds like something Phoenix or Challengers would be invited to."

"Actually it is," Mac replied slowly. "And I bet your friend is covering it, right?"

"Right! Hey, that'll be cool! We can all go together!"

"Sounds like a plan," Mac agreed. "See ya Saturday!"

Saturday morning, MacGyver opened his front door to find his son standing next to...a woman? She wore baggy shorts, a loose-fitting t-shirt, and had her long dark hair pulled through the back of a baseball cap.

"Hi Dad! This is my reporter friend Becca. Becca, this is my dad, MacGyver. But you can call him 'Mac'."

"Nice to meet you, Mac," the girl said shyly as she tentatively held out her hand.

"It's a pleasure," MacGyver replied with a smile, shaking her hand. "Please, c'mon in."

Once inside, Mac noticed his son had a garment bag draped over his shoulder.

"Want me to put that away for you?" he asked. "Wouldn't want your tux to get wrinkled."

"Yeah, sure," Sam replied. "Becca's dress is in there too."

MacGyver took the bag upstairs and removed the pair's outfits. He hung Sam's tuxedo next to his, but upon seeing Becca's dress, his jaw dropped. He held up the yards of white fabric with large blue flowers. Admittedly, he was a typical man and didn't know all that much about women's fashion but, as with art, he knew what he liked, and this wasn't it. In fact, the piece reminded of him of his grandma's old living room curtains. He had always hated those curtains. Feeling oddly protective of the near stranger, he knew he couldn't let her go to the prestigious event in this so he picked up the phone and hit one of two numbers he had on speed dial.

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The ringing of the telephone startled Joanna awake. She groaned. Figuring it was going to be a late night at the gala she had wanted to sleep in this morning.

"Hello?" she answered groggily.

"Jo. I need your help."

MacGyver. This must be how Pete Thornton feels when Mac calls asking for favors in the middle of the night.

"What is it?" she ground out, her throat still dry from sleep.

"Remember I told you Sam and his friend from the Tribune were coming in today?"

"Yeah." She suppressed a yawn.

"Well, his friend turned out to be female."

"Sam's got a girlfriend!?" Jo exclaimed, suddenly wide awake.

"No! I mean, I don't think so. But she brought this dress that's...well...I really need you to come over. It'll all make sense when you see it."

"Fine, I'll be there soon." Joanna shuffled off to shower and dress, wishing Mac would make half as big a deal out of her new outfit later that day.

An hour later Sam introduced Jo to Becca. Though shy and a bit awkward, Joanna took an immediate liking to the young woman.

"Listen," Joanna addressed the girl. "I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by to see what you're wearing to the gala tonight. Since we're all going together I'd hate for our outfits to clash."

Waves of doubt flitted across Rebecca's face before she finally gave into the three encouraging smiles and went up to the bathroom to change.

When the journalist next appeared, Jo couldn't help but gasp. There stood Becca, her hair loose and heavy around her face, her body swallowed up by billows of blue and white fabric.

Joanna turned her head and whispered in Mac's ear, "She looks like she could be a balloon in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade!"

MacGyver nodded grimly. "That's why I need your help," he whispered back.

"It's horrible, isn't it?" Becca asked in a sad voice as she teetered in high-heeled pumps.

"I wouldn't say it's horrible," Sam offered as Jo stepped forward and began plucking at pieces of the material.

"Sam's right," she agreed. "It's just needs a few adjustments." Jo tried to keep her voice positive as she glanced at her watch. Eight hours until they were due to arrive at the gala.

Joanna sat cross-legged on the floor as she folded over the hem that reached the girl's ankles.

"Mac, do you have pins or something to hold this hem up?"

A few seconds later he held a roll of duct tape in front of her face.

"You're kidding, right?" she looked up at him, rolling her eyes when he simply shrugged.

Tearing off a piece of the silver tape, she started tacking up the skirt and then stood to observe her handiwork. Even that little alteration had made a difference. Jo then examined the sleeves that were way too long and poufy and the bodice which was way too blouson. No amount of duct tape could fix this and there wasn't enough time to rip out all the seams and re-sew it to fit.

"It's hopeless!" Becca cried. "I'm not the type of girl who gets all dressed up and goes to charity events! I'm just a big old klutz who can't even pick out a decent dress!" She turned and ran up the stairs, almost tripping as she got to the top.

Joanna turned to find MacGyver and Sam staring like deer caught in a car's headlight, obviously on the verge of panic at the thought of having to deal with a hysterical female. In a way she couldn't blame them, but she knew what she had to do.

"Don't worry, I've got this," she told them before heading after Becca.

By the time Joanna got upstairs, the dress was nothing more than a puddle at the foot of the bed and the bathroom door was closed. She knocked on it lightly.

"Becca? It's me. Can I come in?"

When there was no answer, Jo tested the doorknob to find it unlocked and poked her head into the small room. Becca was bent over the sink already wearing her shorts and t-shirt and splashing cold water on her face. When she noticed Joanna's presence she turned off the faucets and grabbed a towel to dry her face.

"You okay?"

Shaking her head Rebecca perched on the edge of the tub. "I shouldn't have come. This stuff is way outta my league."

"Why did you buy that dress?" Joanna asked gently.

Becca sighed. "I got the assignment on short notice. I ordered it out of a catalogue and even paid extra for next day delivery. I thought it would camouflage this." She glanced down at her less-than-perfect figure. "Instead it just makes it worse!"

"I understand. I used to have the same problem," Jo assured her.

"You? No way!"

"Yep," Joanna smiled sadly as she carefully sat down next to Becca. "I had a medical condition that caused me to gain a lot of weight in a short amount of time. I got it under control rather quickly, but the damage had already been done. I thought wearing loose, baggy clothes would hide my curves, but they only made me look bigger. I eventually lost a lot of the weight, but more importantly, I learned how to dress in a way that complements my figure."

"That's great, but how's that gonna help me tonight?" Becca moaned.

"We still have time and I know a few places. Grab your purse," Joanna ordered.

The two women returned downstairs to find Mac and his son sprawled on the couch already engrossed in an old black-and-white movie.

"I'm stealing Becca for the rest of the day. Pick us up at my place," Jo called.

Mac lifted his hand and waved to indicate he had heard her before she turned and walked out the door.

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"Would you stop that!" Mac ordered, swatting at Sam's hands and trying to pull away.

"But you're tie's crooked."

"No, it's not!"

"Fine! Have it your way!" Sam threw up his hands in disgust.

"Thank you! I will!" Mac shot back. "We need to hustle if we're gonna pick up the girls on time."

"Yes sir," Sam replied with a mock salute that lightened the mood and put an end to their senseless bickering.

Half an hour later father and son stood in the Fairfax's living room waiting for their 'dates'. Joanna entered the room first and MacGyver's jaw dropped of its own accord. Somehow she always managed to look beautiful, and somehow she always managed to take his breath away. Tonight she was dressed in a pale yellow satin sheath dress with an ivory lace overlay that fell just below her knees. Strappy, high-heeled sandals accentuated her legs, and she had done something to her bobbed hair to make it extra full and bouncy.

"You look great," Mac told her as she walked up to him with a smile and began to straighten his tie.

"Oh, sure…you'll let her fix your tie," Sam complained.

MacGyver shot him a quelling sideways glance.

"I told you it was crooked," his son smirked.

Sam looked away from his dad just in time to see Rebecca make her own appearance. Neither man could believe this was the same girl they saw earlier. Her long, slightly curled locks had been tamed and captured in a simple up do making her appear taller. She wore an emerald green dress that added extra depth to her eyes in spite of her glasses. The top of the dress was fitted, but not too tight, while the knee length skirt flared out slightly giving her the illusion of an hourglass figure. Sensible yet stylish black flats completed her ensemble.

"What do you think?" she asked, wringing her hands nervously in front of her.

Mac looked at Sam's stunned expression and gave him a little nudge to get his attention.

"Oh...um...you look awesome," Sam stammered before regaining his usual charm.

He walked up to his friend and took her hands in his.

"Who are you and what have you done with Becca?" he quipped, causing the young woman to smile as Mac choked back a laugh.

A short while later, with Joanna seated next to him and Sam and Becca in the backseat, MacGyver pulled the Nomad up to the Pabst Mansion, the historic site chosen for this evening's festivities.

"Very impressive," he observed, not even trying to hide the awe in his voice. "Looks like Flemish Renaissance Revival architecture."

"You have a good eye," Jo complimented him. "Captain Frederick Pabst, founder of Pabst Brewery, had it built for him and his family in the late 1800's. Now it's a national landmark."

The foursome entered through the large, carved front doors and were greeted by a butler standing in the main foyer. Upon inspecting their invitations, he welcomed them warmly and wished them an enjoyable evening. From floor to ceiling, the house was ornate and opulent. Abundant with valuable works of art and antique furniture, it was an overwhelming sight. Small groups of people were scattered throughout the front parlor and gentlemen's study chatting and laughing with food and drink in hand. Other guests strode the long hallways and grand staircase simply admiring the mansion itself.

It didn't take long before a city councilman recognized MacGyver and approached the small group. They exchanged the proper niceties before the discussion turned to Challengers Club. Mac knew that this was one of many conversations he would have that night to promote the club and hopefully secure extra funding.

Once the man left, MacGyver guided Joanna toward the plush dining room, his hand placed lightly on the small of her back. He grinned when he saw Sam copy the gesture. Though he had only spent a small amount of time with Becca, he easily pegged her as the shy, quiet type. What puzzled him was his son's sober demeanor. Normally enthusiastic and talkative, Sam had hardly said a word after leaving the Fairfax's. Come to think of it, neither had Rebecca.

The large dining room table was laden with food and the two couples helped themselves to glasses of punch, dainty finger sandwiches, and mini cream puffs and chocolate eclairs. Once everyone's appetite had been sufficiently satisfied, MacGyver suggested they split up so they could complete their tasks more quickly, emphasizing his request by running his finger along the inside of his collar and grimacing.

"Would you just give it up?" Jo snapped as soon and Sam and Becca were out of earshot. "I see you in buttoned up shirts rather frequently and your tie is not that tight."

"Yeah, but it's still a tie!" he retorted.

Joanna rolled her eyes, causing him to chuckle as he put his arm around her waist.

"Come on," he instructed. "Let's go see and be seen so we can get outta here."

About an hour later, after giving his Challenger's spiel at least a dozen times to prominent potential donors, MacGyver was leading Joanna back to the refreshment table when Sam suddenly appeared beside them, an anxious look on his face.

"Have you seen Becca?" he asked breathlessly.

"No, we thought she was with you," Joanna replied, her brows knitted together in concern.

"She was. We were upstairs and she managed to snag an interview with the mayor. It seemed like it was gonna take a while so I decided to sneak away and take some exterior shots, but when I came back she was gone!"

"Well, people don't just disappear. She has to be around here somewhere," Mac reasoned.

The trio began to scan the crowd when a sudden, high-pitched shriek came from the butler's pantry. They hurried toward the sound and stopped in the doorway to find Rebecca standing on a chair, her face contorted in horror as a man in a maitre'd uniform berated her.

"Madam! I must insist you get down from that chair immediately! It is original to the house, a veritable antique worth much money and you are ruining it with your shoes!"

"I'm not going anywhere until you kill it!" Becca shot back.

"Kill what madam?!"

"The spider! The spider that's on the floor!"

"I assure you, madam, you are quite mistaken. I oversaw the preparation of this room myself and can assure you there are no spiders on the floor or anywhere else for that matter!"

By now MacGyver had eased his way into the small room and, by following Rebecca's line of sight, saw the tiny spider in question. Somehow the fortunate arachnid had escaped the footsteps of the waiters, but his luck had just run out. Mac grabbed a small cocktail napkin from a nearby counter, reached down and squashed the little fellow even as he felt a pang of guilt.

"Alright Becca, you can come down now," he assured her. But the young woman did not move.

Sam reached his hand up to her. "Come on, Becca. You heard my dad. The spider's gone."

In a daze of shock, the young woman mechanically grabbed Sam's hand and allowed him to help her climb down from the chair. Once on solid ground, she wrapped her arms around his waist, buried her face in his chest and began to sob. Sam was soothing her as best he could when she pulled away without warning, looked at him as if he were a spider, and bolted from the room.

Sam exchanged a perplexed look with his dad. "What just happened?" he asked before both men turned helpless gazes toward Joanna.

"What?" she asked defensively, knowing full well what they expected her to do. "You want me to go after her, right?"

They both nodded.

"Because I'm a girl and I understand these things?"

Again they nodded, Sam's puppy dog eyes boring into hers and Mac's imploring smile melting her heart.

"Fine," she replied firmly, pulling herself up to her full height and squaring her shoulders before leaving the room in Becca's wake, albeit at a more sedate pace.

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Joanna followed the path she assumed Rebecca had taken, peeking in each room she passed, but the girl was nowhere to be found. On a hunch, Jo opened the front door and stepped out on the large porch to find Sam's friend sitting on the top step, her knees pulled up to her chin, her face in her hands, and her shoulders trembling with sobs.

"Mind if I join you?" Jo asked before slowly lowering herself onto the step. She rubbed soft, comforting circles on Becca's back and waited for the tears to stop.

Finally, the young woman raised her head, face flushed and mascara smeared.

"I made such a fool of myself back there," she moaned, and Joanna was afraid she'd start crying again.

"No you didn't," Jo assured her. "A lot of people are afraid of spiders. You've heard of 'arachnophobia' haven't you?"

Becca shook her head. "That doesn't even begin to cover it. I have arachnophobia to like the one-hundredth degree! I didn't get you kicked out of the party, did I?"

"No. Everything's fine," Joanna promised and hoped she wasn't lying.

"I'm just so embarrassed! Sam'll probably never wanna look at me again!"

Aha! So this was about more than just spiders!

"No way! In fact, Sam's the one who asked me to come look for you. He's worried about you."

"Then why didn't he come find me himself?"

"Because everybody is scared of something, and I think Sam has a phobia about crying girls," Jo chuckled and Becca offered her a watery smile.

"You really like him, don't you?"

Rebecca nodded shyly. "What's not to like? He's kind, thoughtful, handsome, charming. But…"

"But you don't think a guy like him would be interested in a girl like you," Joanna surmised.

"How did you know that?" Becca asked, looking at Jo with something akin to awe.

"'Cause I felt the same way about his dad. Sometimes still do, actually. I'm constantly amazed that a man as well-traveled and experienced as he is could ever be content with a girl who's lived in the same place all her life."

"So, you think there's a chance that Sam could like me too?"

"I do."

"Then why has he been acting so strange tonight?" Rebecca frowned.

"How do you mean?"

"He's hardly said a word to me all evening and he totally bailed on me when I was interviewing the mayor."

"Didn't you see the way he looked at you when he first saw you tonight?" Jo smiled. "I think he was a little shocked by your transformation. You went from being the girl next door to Cinderella. Guys have a hard time processing that. And as for him not talking? Anyone who can render that boy speechless has to be pretty special."

Rebecca's only response was a grin and a thoughtful sigh.

"Tell you what," Joanna continued. "Why don't we get you freshened up and then we'll get outta here."

"I can't go back in there looking like this!" Becca protested.

"Don't worry. I saw a back entrance that the staff uses. We can sneak in that way."

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MacGyver strode toward Sam who was standing in the main foyer.

"I can't find them anywhere!" he said, throwing up his hands in frustration.

"They're sitting on the front steps talking," Sam replied quietly.

"Then why aren't you out there?"

"I didn't want to interrupt."

"Since when?!" Mac didn't wait for his son to answer but instead grabbed him by a lapel and led him to a dark, empty corner. "What is with you tonight anyway?" he asked in an exaggerated whisper.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean my usually charming, talkative kid has hardly said a word all night! Now, what gives?"

Sam shrugged his shoulders and lowered his gaze to his shoes.

"You like Becca!" MacGyver proclaimed.

"Of course I do. She's a nice girl," Sam muttered.

"You know what I mean. I saw the way you looked at her earlier, and I also saw the way she looked at you."

"There's nothing going on between us, Dad."

"Do you want there to be?"

Sam sighed. "I don't know," he moaned, running a hand through his hair. "Becca's a really great girl but I'm afraid I'll end up hurting her."

"How so?"

"What if I get bored at the Tribune? What if I decide I want to travel? Try new things?"

"What if you ask Becca out for a cup of coffee or a burger and go from there?"

"I guess I am kinda puttin' the cart before the horse," Sam admitted. "Did you ever feel like this with Joanna?"

"Sam, you know I did. But we cared enough about each other and our relationship to work through those things together. Now why don't you go out there and butt in like you normally do!?"

Sam laughed as he opened the front door and stepped out onto the large porch, but the women were gone.

XXXXX

Sunday morning MacGyver and Joanna stood in the doorway of his townhouse waving good-bye to Sam and Becca. Once their car was out of sight they walked into the living room and collapsed on the couch.

"You look beat," Mac observed.

"Gee, thanks," Jo responded, pulling a face. "Becca kept me up half the night talking about the gala...and Sam."

"I know the feeling. Sam slept like a log."

When Joanna shot him a questioning look he laughed and explained, "A log being cut in half by a chainsaw. Man, that kid can snore!"

"Do you think we'll see her again?" Joanna asked soberly.

"If Sam has his way I'd say we can count on it. He's gonna ask her out on a real date when they get home."

"Really?! That's terrific!" Jo exclaimed before becoming oddly silent.

"You're worried about something. What is it?" MacGyver probed.

"Is Sam really serious about her, or was it just the fancy night and pretty dress?"

"Well, the dress sure didn't hurt," Mac replied, recalling the effect Joanna's own appearance had on him. "But Sam knows his feelings. I think he would've asked her out sooner but he's afraid he'll end up hurting her."

"Do you think he will?"

"Not on purpose. I told him to just take things slow and not give up too easily."

"Sounds like good advice," Jo praised. "Are you speaking from experience?"

"You know I am. I guess only time will tell...for all of us."

A/N: Thanks to my friend and fellow fan fic writer, Sanguine, for letting me borrow 'Rebecca'. I hope I did you (and her) proud!