A Place of His Own

Sam rolled over and covered his ears with his pillow. The Thorntons were bickering again. Over the past few weeks their arguments had become more frequent and much louder. And it was all his fault.

"I'm telling you, Connie, it's time he got a place of his own. He's been living here for almost six months, eats our food, uses our utilities, but hasn't paid so much as a dime in rent!"

"But that's the whole point, Peter. He's living here so he can save money for rent."

"Well surely he has enough saved that he could contribute something to the household expenses! If not, I'm going to demand MacGyver pay us child support!"

Sam heard Connie snicker. "Do you hear how foolish you sound?" she asked her husband.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," Pete agreed reluctantly. "I just get so frustrated sometimes!"

"I know, dear." Both Sam and Connie knew that Pete's sour mood came primarily from still adjusting to his blindness and retirement. Sam's presence just exacerbated it.

Sensing that the latest storm had passed, Sam crawled out of bed and hurriedly showered and dressed. He strode through the kitchen where Pete sat at the table and Connie stood by the stove, grabbed a granola bar from the cupboard, and headed for the door.

"Don't you want some breakfast, dear?" Connie asked Sam cheerily as if she hadn't been arguing with her husband a short time earlier.

"No thanks," he replied. "I wanna get to work early." With that, he slipped out the door and into his car.

Upon arriving at the Tribune, Sam made his way to the cubicle next to Becca's that he had recently commandeered as his own, grabbing a copy of the latest edition of the newspaper as he went. As soon as he was seated at his desk, he quickly found the classified section and looked for the heading "Apartments for Rent". Pete was right. It was time for him to move on.

"You're here early."

Sam looked up, surprised to find Rebecca Williams standing in his doorway. He had been so engrossed in looking for a new home that he hadn't heard her approach.

"I, uh, I have some research to do," he stammered, not wanting anyone to know he was apartment-searching just yet. He knew that once word got out everyone would be giving him leads and advice, but this was something he wanted to do on his own. At least for now.

Pineapple Slurpee in hand, Becca came to stand behind him, peering over his shoulder at the newspaper. He closed it quickly, but not fast enough.

"You planning on moving?" she asked.

"I've been thinkin' about it," he replied nonchalantly. Actually, up until hearing Pete and Connie's argument this morning he hadn't been thinking about it at all.

"Maybe I can help!" Becca responded brightly.

Sam winced. He didn't want to hurt her by refusing her offer. Thankfully they were interrupted by his editor before he could answer.

"Malloy!" Hank barked. "I've got a missing child story breaking and need you to cover it. There's a reporter on scene but all my photographers are on other assignments. Here's the address." He slipped Sam a small piece of paper.

"Thanks!" Sam said to his editor before turning to face Becca. "I'm sorry. We'll talk when I get back, okay?"

Becca nodded but Sam had already left the office.

"What you standin' there for, Williams? Don't you have a police scanner to listen to or something?" Hank growled before he, too, left the cubicle.

XXXXX

"How did it go?" Becca was waiting for Sam in his office when he returned. Since they'd started dating, they'd also found themselves sharing each other's space.

"It was pretty intense," Sam replied, running his fingers through his dark brown hair. "The mother was hysterical. Her six-year-old daughter got on the school bus this morning but never made it to class. Who knows how long it would have taken to find out if the principal hadn't noticed and called home to verify the absence."

"That is rough," Rebecca agreed, chewing on her lower lip. "Didn't a little boy disappear from a playground last week?"

"Yeah, but his father found him playing in a wooded area nearby. The kid was too young to say what happened and there was no evidence of a crime so everyone just assumed he had wandered off."

"Do you think the two stories are related?" Becca asked, her reporter's interest piqued.

"I don't know. Could be," Sam shrugged.

"While you were gone I got to thinking about your living situation," Rebecca stated, causing Sam's head to spin at the one-eighty degree turn the conversation had just taken. "There's an available apartment in my building. Nothing fancy, just a one-bedroom with basic furnishings but very affordable. I could call my landlord and set up a time for you to look at it."

Sam thought for a moment. The apartments he had seen advertised had either been too expensive or out in the suburbs. A place in Becca's nearby building would be perfect.

"I guess I could take a look," he replied with a calm that belied his excitement.

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MacGyver tapped lightly on the doorframe of Joanna's office to get her attention. Her head was down as she poured over the Challengers volunteer schedule she had been working.

"We haven't decided yet," she muttered, still consumed with her work.

"Decided what?" he asked.

At the sound of his voice, Jo's gaze shot up and locked with his.

"Oh, it's you," she said, breathing out a relieved sigh. "I've been calling a few people to tell them about our engagement. Mainly Geena from the law firm and the Vangs, but everyone I talk to wants to know if we set a date or where we're gonna live or something else related to the wedding. I keep telling them we haven't discussed it and are taking it slow."

"Do you want to discuss it?" he asked, not really sure what answer he wanted to hear.

She shrugged. "Not necessarily. It's kinda nice just being together and not worrying about all that other stuff. It can wait." Her sweet smile reassured him.

"In that case, how'd you like to go to Chicago this weekend?"

"What?" she asked in confusion.

Mac suppressed a smile. Spontaneity was not Joanna's middle name.

"Sam called last night after you left. Seems he moved into his own apartment," MacGyver explained.

Jo's eyebrows shot up. "When did this happen?"

"A couple weeks ago, actually. He said he wanted to wait until he was settled to let me know in case his plans fell through. Anyway, he's invited us down to see his new place. I already called Pete and we can stay with him and Connie. I figure we'll take the Nomad in case Sam has anything he still needs to transport."

Joanna made a show of looking at her watch. "So, anything else happen in the last ten hours you want to tell me about?" she asked facetiously.

"Well, let's see," MacGyver squinted his eyes as if deep in thought. "I ate a blueberry yogurt, took a shower, and went to bed and dreamed about you," he smiled roguishly.

"Ha, ha, very funny," Jo retorted. "But to answer your initial question, of course I'll go to Chicago with you. I'd never pass up a chance to see Sam," she winked playfully.

XXXXX

It was mid-morning Saturday when MacGyver pulled the Nomad into the Thornton's driveway and parked besides Sam's VW. He and Joanna had just pulled their overnight bags out of the backseat when Connie called to them from where she stood in the doorway.

"Come in! Come in! I just took a batch of cookies out of the oven. Get them while they're still warm!"

The couple walked into the house and greeted Connie with friendly hugs before she ushered them to the kitchen table where Sam and Pete were already indulging in the sweet treat.

"I see you're still stickin' to your diet, hey Pete?" MacGyver smirked.

"Since when is it illegal to have a cookie now and then. And wipe that stupid grin off your face!" Pete protested.

Mac's smile only widened, glad to know that his friend still knew him so well.

"So, give me all the details," Connie demanded with a devilish smile as she pulled Joanna down in the chair next to hers.

"Details?" Jo asked.

"About the wedding!" Connie exclaimed, her enthusiasm out in full force. "Have you set a date? Do you have a hall in mind? Did you pick out a dress? Oooh, what are your colors going to be...I wouldn't want my dress to clash! Speaking of which, when will the invitations arrive? You know, these days you have to plan well in advance. Oh, and you're mom and I will throw you the best wedding shower!"

"And I'm gonna give you the most awesome bachelor party you've ever seen!" Sam promised MacGyver when Connie stopped for a breath.

"Have you decided who's gonna be your best man?" Pete asked, not wanting to be left out of the swirling conversation.

"Whoa!" Mac said, holding his hands up in front of him in a defensive gesture as his heart twisted at the stunned look on Joanna's face. "We just got engaged. Give us some time!"

"Time?!" Pete exclaimed. "At the rate you two are going you'll have to have the ceremony on my grave if you expect me to attend!"

Sam laughed, almost choking the milk he was about to swallow, and Mac shot his friend a dirty look.

"I saw that, MacGyver," Pete warned.

"Lucky guess," Mac muttered under his breath.

"And I heard that!" Pete retorted causing everyone at the table to chuckle.

"Now, let's get you two settled so Sam can take you over to his new place," Connie said when the laughter died down. "Joanna, you can take Sam's old room, and Mac, you can take the couch like always."

Pete loudly cleared his throat and Connie blushed. "That is, unless you two are sleeping…"

"On the couch will be just fine," Mac assured the older woman, saving her from any embarrassment before turning his attention to Sam. "I brought the Nomad in case you still have some things to move."

"Nope! I'm good," his son replied airily, handing him a piece of paper. "You guys can follow me, but if we get separated, here's the address. It's just a couple blocks from the Tribune."

MacGyver found the place easily enough, even after losing Sam in the heavy downtown traffic. He allowed the car to roll to a stop in front of a large, four-story apartment building with a brick facade that had seen better days. He and Jo got out and met Sam who was already waiting for them on the narrow walkway that separated the front lawn and led to the main entrance.

"Hey Sam! Wanna play catch?!" An African-American boy about eight years old stood on the grass, tossing a tattered baseball into the air and catching it with an equally battered mitt.

"Sorry Ricky, but I've got company. Maybe tomorrow, okay?"

The boy frowned slightly until he noticed Mac and Joanna. "Who are they?"

"That's my dad and his...um...his friend." Sam wasn't sure if the young boy would know what a fiance was so he decided to keep it simple.

Mac reached out to shake the boy's hand. "You can call me Mac and that's Joanna."

"You wanna play catch?" Ricky asked, his hopeful eyes darting between the couple. "I got an extra glove if ya need one!"

"Sounds fun, but maybe later, alright?" Mac smiled.

"Alright!" Ricky proclaimed. Buoyed by the vague promise, he once again began tossing the ball in the air.

"Cute kid. Does he live here?" Mac asked.

"Yeah. It's just him and his grandmother. No one knows who his dad is and his mom overdosed on drugs last year."

With a sad shake of his head, MacGyver followed his son into the lobby of the old building and was surprised when bright lights and freshly painted walls greeted him.

"The outside might not look like much, but the inside was entirely renovated a few years ago," Sam explained, obviously noticing his father's reaction. "I'm on the second floor. The stairs are over here."

As Sam led them to the stairwell Mac asked, "Isn't there an elevator?"

"I prefer the stairs," came the simple reply. Mac interpreted that as either there was no elevator or the elevator was broken. Or perhaps the elevator was working...for now.

Sam opened the door to his apartment and proudly stood aside to allow Joanna and his dad to enter.

"Well, what do you think?"

"It reminds me of the first apartment I had in Milwaukee," MacGyver replied as he studied the layout. To his left was an open area with a couch, recliner, television and computer desk. To his right was a small eating area and galley kitchen. Down the short hallway were two doors across from each other. Obviously the bedroom and bathroom.

"Then you like it?" Sam asked.

"I didn't say that," Mac replied with a crooked grin before looping his arms around his son's neck in a playful choke-hold. "Actually, I think it's great!"

"Sam, is that you?" a feminine voice called.

MacGyver let go of Sam and looked down the hall to see Becca emerge from either the bedroom or bathroom. He wasn't sure which.

"Yeah, and I brought my dad and Joanna along," he clarified as he met her halfway across the room and casually took her hand.

Mac and Jo exchanged glances. Her's amused, his not so much, before they greeted Rebecca.

"You didn't tell me you had a roommate," MacGyver observed, making a concerted effort to keep his voice from raising an octave. Sam and Becca were both adults and if they wanted to move in together it was none of his business. He sighed. When had he become such a fuddy-duddy?

"Huh?" Sam asked, before realizing what the scene must look like to his dad. "Oh! No! Rebecca lives in an apartment upstairs. She's just here helping me clean things up. In fact, she's the one who told me about this place."

The ringing of the telephone saved Mac from having to pull his foot out of his mouth. Sam took the call in the kitchen and spoke for only a few moments before reappearing.

"That was Hank, my editor. He needs me to cover a story. Think you'll be okay on your own for awhile?"

"I suppose we can manage," MacGyver replied wryly

"Great! I'll be back as soon as I can!" Sam grabbed his satchel and camera case and hurried out the door.

"Why don't we go up to my place," Rebecca suggested. "You must be starving. I'll make us some sandwiches."

Becca had just stepped into her apartment when a brown and white yapping blur of fur flew across the room to greet her. She bent down and gave the dog an affectionate pat.

"Who's your friend?" Mac asked as the canine looked up at him, big eyes and long ears creating a comical expression.

"His name is pronounced 'Kip', but I spell it with a 'C'. It's kinda a long story."

"What kind of dog is he?" Joanna asked as Cip warily sniffed her shoe.

"He's an Airedale mix. No one is quite sure what he's actually mixed with. It's probably either a Shih Tzu or a coon dog. His former owner actually trained him as a hunting dog."

"Who would give up such a great dog?" Mac asked, crouching down to run a hand over Cip's back.

"Well, he was kinda orphaned."

MacGyver looked up at Becca, questions dancing in his eyes.

"His owner was murdered." Becca supplied.

Mac's eyes went wide. "Murdered? So how'd you end up with him?"

"It's kinda a long story," Rebecca shrugged.

"Of course," Mac muttered as he stood up to survey the apartment and Joanna took her turn petting Cip.

Becca's rooms were laid out exactly like Sam's only her decorating taste leaned toward eclectic. An old manual typewriter sat next to her computer monitor, and a set of expensive-looking encyclopedias lined part of the wall. MacGyver, however, was drawn to a bobblehead of Mr. Spock from Star Trek sitting on a bookshelf.

"You a fan?" he asked, reaching out to tap the oversized head and activate the spring action.

"Yeah," she smiled self-consciously. "I guess that makes me kinda nerdy."

"No way!" Mac assured her. "The show's a classic." Even though he didn't see the attraction of science fiction, he could definitely respect television history. "Watch any of the spin-offs?"

"Ugh!" Becca rolled her eyes in disgust. "I don't know why they even bother. Nothing can beat the original series!"

MacGyver laughed in agreement before Rebecca excused herself to make lunch. Minutes later, the trio sat at a small dining table biting into ham and cheese sandwiches with potato chips.

"So, Becca, are you from Chicago?" Mac asked in between bites. Despite the fact that Sam had brought Rebecca into their lives a few months ago, MacGyver realized he and Jo knew very little about the eager reporter.

"No," she responded, shaking her head as she swallowed a sip of lemonade. "I've only been here about a year. I'm actually from Kentucky but I moved to Santa Barbara to go to college. I majored in English like Joanna but studied to become a librarian."

Mac's curious mind couldn't help probing. "So how do you go from wanting to be a librarian to being a freelance crime reporter?"

"I needed money and ended up getting a job as a secretary for the Santa Barbara Police Department. I made friends with a couple of the detectives and even got to help out on a couple cases. I started writing about it in my journal but then decided I could make some extra cash if I sold the stories instead. Someone at the Tribune saw one of my articles and I guess the rest is history."

Rebecca had just finished speaking when loud voices from the front yard drew all three of them to the window. An elderly, African-American woman was in tears and gesturing frantically as Sam appeared to be trying to calm her down. The scene had gathered a small crowd of onlookers.

"Who's that with Sam?" Mac asked Becca, his adrenaline beginning to pump when he saw the concern on her face.

"That's Mrs. Jefferson, Ricky's grandma. I wonder what happened?"

"Let's go find out," MacGyver said as he strode out of the apartment, Rebecca and Joanna trailing behind him.

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"Mrs. Jefferson, just take a deep breath and tell me everything that happened," Sam coached the nearly hysterical woman. He had just returned from his assignment only to find Ricky's grandmother outside in her housecoat crying and calling her grandson's name. He looked up and saw MacGyver, Joanna, and Becca headed straight towards them, ready to help in any way they could.

"I called out the window to tell Ricky to come in for lunch," she choked out between sobs. "When he didn't come in, I came down here to get him but he was gone! I looked all around the building, calling his name, but he never answered!" These last words sent her into a renewed frenzy.

"When was the last time you saw him?" Sam asked, his voice calm but firm. He glanced up at his dad who nodded slightly, indicating that Sam was on the right track.

"Before I took my shower. About forty-five minutes ago."

"Okay, that's good," Sam encouraged her. "Now, what was he wearing?"

"Jeans. He always wears jeans. And those worn out tennis shoes. Other than that, I can't remember," she wailed, slumping helplessly into Sam's arms.

MacGyver stepped forward and addressed the small crowd that had gathered, glad for his keen observation skills and memory of meeting the child earlier that day. "Okay everyone! We're looking for an eight-year-old African-American boy who lives in this apartment building. He's wearing jeans, old sneakers, a red t-shirt and a Chicago Cubs cap. He may also be carrying a baseball and glove. His name is Ricky. We'd appreciate it if you could all spread out and help us look for him."

As the people dispersed, whether to look for the boy or carry on with their own lives, MacGyver joined Becca and Jo who were now huddled around Sam and Mrs. Jefferson.

"We need to go inside and call the police," he told them.

Mrs. Jefferson gathered herself and pushed away from Sam. "You think he was kidnapped like those other children?" she asked, her eyes wide with worry.

"What other children?" Mac asked, his pulse ratcheting up.

"Um, maybe we should talk about this inside?" Becca ventured.

"Would you mind telling me what's going on, Sam?" Mac demanded when their small group was safely ensconced inside Mrs. Jefferson's small, two-bedroom apartment just down the hall from Becca's.

"A few weeks ago a toddler disappeared from the playground he was at with his father. His dad found him playing alone on the edge of a nearby wooded area and the whole thing was pretty much forgotten. Then a week later a six-year-old girl got on the school bus in the morning but never made it to class. She was found several hours later alone at Navy Pier."

"How did that happen?" Joanna asked.

"The girl said that when she got off the bus she saw a man sitting on a swing on the playground. She knew she shouldn't talk to strangers, but she felt bad for him because he looked sad and lonely. He asked if they could play together and she agreed."

"So he took her down to Navy Pier, played games and then abandoned her?" Mac found this hard to believe.

"The girl said the man told her he had to get home because he would get in trouble if he missed supper. They had taken the bus to the pier and she didn't know how to get back," Sam supplied.

"Did she give a description of the man?" Jo pressed

"According to the police her description was vague and kept changing," Sam sighed. "And since both kids were found alone and safe they're hesitant to classify the incidences as kidnappings."

"Well, the common denominator is that all the kids, including Ricky, wanted to play," MacGyver declared.

"Aw man," Sam moaned. "If I had stopped and played catch with him when we first came maybe none of this would have happened."

Mac put a strong, comforting hand on his son's shoulder. "Now don't go thinkin' like that. We're not here to find fault. We're here to find Ricky."

"I bet Cip could help!" Becca volunteered. "He was trained as a hunting dog when he was a pup."

Sam's face brightened. "It sure couldn't hurt to try! Mrs. Jefferson, could I have a piece of Ricky's clothes from the dirty laundry so Becca's dog can get his scent?"

The older woman silently hurried away and quickly returned with a wrinkled cotton shirt which she handed to Sam.

"Jo, could you please call the cops and stay with Mrs. Jefferson while we go look for Ricky?" Mac asked, regret in his eyes at having to leave her behind.

"I'll take care of everything here," she promised with a reassuring smile. "Just let us know if you find anything."

Becca hurried back to her apartment to retrieve Cip. After clipping an extra long lead onto his collar she met up with Sam and MacGyver who were waiting in the front yard. Sam offered her the shirt Mrs. Jefferson had given him and she held it under Cip's nose, making sure he got a good, strong scent. The dog lifted his head, looked around, and then took off down the sidewalk with the trio of humans in tow.

After several minutes and a number of direction changes, Sam began to wonder if this had been such a good idea.

"Do you think Cip knows where he's going?" he asked his dad in a low voice that Rebecca wasn't supposed to hear, but she did anyway.

"Of course he knows where he's going!" she snapped. "He just needs some time!"

The dog led them in a circle, twice, before tugging on his leash and scampering to the edge of a vacant lot where he abruptly sat down. It didn't take long to find Ricky playing catch with a strange man. Cip let out a bark to get the boy's attention.

"Hey Sam! Wanna play catch with us?!" Ricky invited cheerfully.

Sam glanced at Mac before breaking away from the small group and walking toward the boy, keeping the strange man in his peripheral vision.

"Hey buddy!" Sam greeted him. "Who's your friend?"

"That's Darrell," Ricky supplied casually. "He saw me playing and asked if he could play too. He said he knew of a place where we could throw the ball really far so we came here. Do you wanna meet him?"

"Yeah, that'd be great!"

Ricky motioned for Darrell to join them and the man reluctantly approached. Tall and stocky, he appeared to be in his early thirties with blond hair that was cut very short and pale gray eyes filled with something akin to fear.

"These are my friends Sam and Rebecca, and that's Sam's dad," Ricky told him, pointing to MacGyver.

"Hi Darrell, it's nice to meet you," Sam said, reaching out to shake the other man's hand. But Darrell stared at the ground, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to another while he held onto his baseball glove as if for dear life.

"Wha...what time is it," the blond man asked without looking up.

Caught off-guard, Sam looked at his watch. "It's almost four o'clock."

"I...I have to ge...get home for sup...supper," Darrell stuttered, still slightly rocking back and forth.

"Okay," Sam replied, not sure what to make of this interaction. "Where do you live? We'll walk with you."

"I live in the big gray house."

"And where is the big gray house?" Sam asked.

Darrell looked around and apparently decided he was lost. "I...I don't know."

Suddenly Sam felt a tug on his shirt sleeve and turned to find Becca standing next to him and MacGyver several steps away talking on his cell phone.

"I think I know where he lives," Becca informed Sam in a whisper. "There's a group home for adults with cognitive delays a few blocks from our apartment."

"Hey Darrell," Sam called. "I know where your house is. Why don't we walk you home?"

No answer.

"It's okay, Darrell," Ricky assured him. "We'll get you back in time for supper and then maybe we can play ball again tomorrow!"

Darrell smiled innocently at the boy. "I'd like that."

The small group set out, following Rebecca's lead. Darrell chatted and laughed easily with Ricky, but remained hesitant with the adults. When they arrived at the group home it was to find Mrs. Jefferson, Joanna, a couple police officers and a middle-aged woman who appeared to be in charge and was introduced to them as Mrs. Connolly waiting for them. Spying her grandson, Mrs. Jefferson hurried down the porch stairs and wrapped him in a hug that Sam feared would suffocate the boy.

"Where have you been, Darrell?!" Mrs. Connolly scolded. "You know better than to go off without telling anyone!"

"I...I'm sorry. But I...I came back in...in time for supper."

Mrs. Connolly's face softened as she addressed everyone. "Never misses a meal, this one!" Then she turned to Darrell, her voice gentler this time. "Have you been sneaking out to find someone to play with?"

He nodded guiltily.

"Do you think you could tell these nice policemen about the kids you've met?"

Again Darrell nodded.

"Then let's all go in the house and have a nice chat before I put dinner on the table," she smiled so as not to alarm Darrell and herded her charge and the police officers through the front door.

"Thank you for everything you all have done," she said, turning back to Sam and his friends before disappearing into the house.

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"So no one's gonna press any charges?!" Pete asked incredulously the next day as everyone gathered in the Thornton's kitchen for brunch.

"That's right," MacGyver replied as he poured himself a glass of orange juice. "The parents of the victims were all very understanding and even sympathetic when they discovered that, in spite of his appearance, Darrell only has the psychological age of a ten-year-old."

Joanna picked up the explanation from there. "The father of the toddler at the playground pretty much blames himself for letting his son wander off in the first place. Darrell just admitted to picking the little guy up to help him get to where he seemed to want to go. As for the girl from the school bus, her mother was very upset that she even dared approach a stranger and Darrell didn't understand that the girl needed to be at school instead of out having fun."

"And of course Ricky went off more than willingly and thanks to Becca and Cip everything worked out for both him and Darrell," Pete concluded.

"But it goes to show that the city needs more appropriate resources for people like Darrell," Becca spoke up. "Mrs. Connolly said she is going to try and make more of an effort to help Darrell get the socialization skills and opportunities he requires, but that will take time and money."

"I know it's not your usual genre, but maybe you could write an article to help expose this problem. If the right people see it, someone may step up and help," Sam suggested, smiling at his friend.

"There's no 'maybe' about it! I am definitely gonna write an article about this and make sure Hank publishes it. And not bury it on the back page of the classified section either!"

"Sounds like you might have another passion other than the crime beat," MacGyver observed.

Becca considered this before answering. "I wouldn't say that. Darrell's situation is a crime, just one that people like to sweep under the rug and not deal with because it's not as straightforward as robberies or murder."

"The girl has a point," Pete beamed approvingly.

"Ya know Pete, I've been thinking," Mac began.

"Oh no!" the older man groaned and rubbed his forehead as the others laughed.

"C'mon, hear me out," MacGyver urged. "Maybe you could talk to some of your friends at Phoenix and see if they can look into some types of programs for cognitively delayed adults who lack needed resources."

Pete stared at his friend despite his blindness. "You know the budget is tight, MacGyver. For heaven's sake, the Foundation cut the funding for Challengers!"

Mac waved Pete's protest aside. "Challengers will be fine. We'll find a way to get what we need. There are other causes out there that need more help than we do."

"I'll make some phone calls tomorrow and see what I can do," Pete promised. "You're a good man, Mac. I hope Joanna knows how lucky she is to have you."

"Oh no!" Connie, who had been silent up until now, wailed. "With all the excitement yesterday, we never got a chance to talk about the wedding!"

Joanna winced, then appeared contrite. "Maybe we could-"

"Sorry to interrupt," Mac broke in, not really sorry at all, "But we need to hit the road."

Jo shrugged then smiled at Connie. "Maybe Mac and I will come down more often now that Sam has a place of his own. After all, we wouldn't want him to get lonesome."

"I doubt that will be a problem," MacGyver said wryly, his gaze focused on his son and Becca, their heads bowed together, sharing a whispered conversation in a world of their own.

Author's Note: Thanks to my good friend and fellow fan fic writer, Sanguine, for allowing me to borrow Rebecca, Cip, and their backstories!