Title: All In The Past

Author: Elaine Stouse
Email: rdadsemail@rdads.com

All In The Past - Part One:

The argument was beginning to sound like a broken record, but this was the first time it had become so heated. The strain of the lengthy search and still not knowing anything about what had happened to Alex was taking its toll on Sam.

"I have to find her, Dad. Can't you understand that? I won't stop looking!"

"I know, Sam, but don't you think if she wanted to be found you'd have found her by now?" MacGyver pointed out in what he hoped was a reasonable tone of voice. "You've put your life on hold for too long, you have to face up to the fact that maybe she's gone."

"But I love her, Dad, I can't just forget about her. Why can't you understand that?" Sam scrubbed a hand through his dark hair, looking for empathy in his father's eyes, but seeing only pain. A pain that he mistook as being due to his son disobeying his wishes. "Then again why would you understand that," he shouted hurtfully, "You haven't allowed yourself to really love a woman since Mom died!"

Mac recoiled as if his son had slapped him. He blinked at Sam, long buried images suddenly clouding his mind and his judgment. "Fine! You want to find Alex? Go and look!" he yelled, pointing to the door. When Sam didn't move, MacGyver strode across the room and yanked the door open himself, barely looking at his son as he waited for him to leave.

Eventually Sam shrugged and walked out, too infuriated to do anything else. MacGyver slammed the door behind him and leaned against it, sagging at the knees until he slumped to the floor, exhaling raggedly. He passed a shaking palm over his eyes, not really surprised by the dampness there as he fought the wave of vivid memories that swept over him, feeling like he might drown in their dark depths.

~~~~~~~~~~

It took most of the night for Sam to calm down sufficiently to analyse exactly what had happened. When he did he knew he had gone too far this time. He hadn't meant to hurt his father, but he knew that he had. What he could not figure out was the real reason behind his father's furious reaction to Sam's final words.

Sam rubbed his tired eyes, knowing he would never get any sleep until he had apologised. He moved across to pick up the phone then thought better of it, this was a conversation he needed to have face to face to know whether his words were really healing whatever old wound he had unwittingly reopened.

Sam grabbed his motorcycle helmet, gloves and keys and headed out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dawn was already breaking over the horizon when Sam reached his father's apartment. He quietly let himself in with his own key, unsurprised to find MacGyver slumped fast asleep on the couch instead of in his infinitely more comfortable bed. He was still wearing the jeans and shirt from the previous evening, now rumpled and creased from a restless night.

For a long time Sam stood studying his father. Mac was obviously dreaming from the way his eyes moved rapidly behind closed lids, but by all outward appearances it was not a pleasant dream. MacGyver's expression was at times tense and anguished, but never relaxed.

Sam debated whether to wake him, then he decided to let his father sleep through, hoping he would drift into a deeper dreamless state soon enough. Instead, Sam crept into the kitchen to grab something to drink.

~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of tinkling glass shook MacGyver abruptly awake.

"Terry?" he called out in groggy confusion, caught in that moment between sleep and wakefulness, before he knew where and when he was.

Sam looked at him strangely. "No Dad, it's me. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. I broke one of your glasses." He stooped back out of view into the kitchen to scoop up the rest of the shattered pieces.

MacGyver shook the painful images from his head and rubbed his eyes. Sliding his long legs to the floor, he sat up stiffly and attempted to recall why he was sleeping on the sofa fully clothed. Then he remembered their argument. "What are you doing here?" he called to Sam.

"I came to apologise," Sam admitted sheepishly, sticking his head back into view and regarding his father carefully. "Who's Terry?" He watched a grimace of recognition flicker across Mac's face, swiftly followed by a deliberate blank look.

"Who?" MacGyver lied, then he stood up and stretched the kinks from sore muscles, adding hurriedly, "Look I'm sorry about last night, I should never have yelled at you like that."

"I'm sorry too Dad," Sam said meaningfully. He was also sorry that his father chose to lie to him about the source of his dreams. Well this photojournalist had ways of finding out who Terry was! Sam had learned a few things in the course of his career and one of them was how to get at the truth.

He knocked the shattered glass pieces into the back of the dustpan scoop, "Got any old newspaper to wrap this in? I wouldn't want anyone to cut their hand when they empty the bin."

His father gave him a strange look, an unfocused distant shadow in his eyes. Then he turned and rummaged on the table to find a paper he had finished reading, passing it across to his son.

Sam dumped the shards of glass into the newspaper and wrapped them tight before putting the bundle into the bin. Then he got two more glasses down from the cupboard to pour some juice for them both, an idea already forming in his head as to how he might find out about Terry.

~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't the dog barking or the tinkle of shattering glass that disturbed him. MacGyver was so exhausted that he didn't wake up until the ball actually hit him on the head, having bounced several times across the floor of his houseboat.

Mac came fully awake with such startled surprise that he nearly fell off the couch where he'd fallen asleep some time during the previous night at whatever godforsaken hour he'd eventually arrived home. He vaguely remembered putting his keys in the lock and stumbling inside, but the rest was a blur.

The one thing he knew for sure was that he finally had a Saturday off, and all the impossible deadlines he had been desperately trying to fulfil at the Phoenix Foundation for the last few weeks could be forgotten for two days.

The environmental studies he'd been carrying out on the impact of the Kuwaiti oilfield destruction and its resultant toxic effect on the ozone layer during the Gulf War that had ended three months earlier weren't going anywhere. It would still all be there for him when he returned to the office on Monday. As would the fourteen hour days he'd been putting in for way too long, studying the vagaries of evil men. Endless futile hours he would no doubt need to put in for at least another few days before he would be in a position to announce that the area was toast, as suspected all along.

Maybe then he'd finally be able to get back to doing what he loved best, going out into the field and getting his hands dirty, where he could actually make a difference and help people. He'd really have to tell Pete that he'd had enough research projects for awhile.

The barking dog sounded even louder to Mac's ears and he rolled over with a groan, pulling a cushion down over his head to muffle the noise. Something warm and wet licked his face and for a minute he thought he was back in his dream again. Then he got a whiff of the hot breath being panted onto his cheek and, when the bark sounded right in his ear, MacGyver finally opened his eyes.

He sat up faster than he would have thought possible given the stiffness of his muscles and the tiredness he could feel right down to his bones. But the shock of coming face to face with a large wet black nose and big brown eyes was quickly enhanced by the sight of the fangs sticking out around a huge slavering pink tongue.

The dog barked again, then it emitted a female laugh. Mac rubbed his eyes in weary confusion.

"Oh God Mister! I'm really sorry!" the dog spoke.

MacGyver blinked at the English Shepherd dog, barely more than a puppy. Granted it had a beautiful shiny black coat over a set of four white paws and a white muzzle, but it scarcely seemed possible it could talk. Still, Mac decided it would be better to get on friendly terms with such an extraordinary animal.

"Hey boy, how ya doin'!" he greeted the dog enthusiastically, leaning down and wrapping his arms around the shaggy body in a loose hug. The dog barked again, panting and hanging his tongue out, looking happy and friendly. MacGyver laughed as he got another face wash, finally hearing the voice behind him as he began to gather his wits.

"I'll pay for the window, honest. I'm really sorry, the ball just hit a crooked board and went out of control!"

MacGyver was still petting the dog and laughing when he finally turned to the source of the voice. "It's okay, real....." and that was as much as he managed. Standing at the end of his deep comfortable couch was a pair of beautiful laughing green brown eyes, surrounded by mid brown hair that hung straight to her shoulders and looked like it was being lightened by the Californian sun with hints of blonde mixing throughout.

Mac blinked at the woman, surprised by her presence and stunned by the impact of her smile. She put out a hand and he shook it numbly. "My name's Terry Wightman, well Teresa actually, but everyone calls me Terry."

"MacGyver," Mac said, tearing his staring gaze away from her face in embarrassment. He patted the dog again, brushing his hand through the shaggy muzzle and behind the ears, getting another happy bark in return. "And the dog?"

"Road Runner! But we call him Roadie," Terry replied, flashing another dazzling smile with not an ounce of shyness. "My brother named him because of the first toy he had as a puppy, one of those squeaky things. It sounds like that cartoon character going 'beep beep'!"

"Oh!" MacGyver grinned understanding and stood up to examine his window.

"I'm really sorry," Terry apologised again. "I just threw the ball for Roadie, it hit a crooked board and went straight through your window."

Mac nodded, bending down to grab the dog again to stop him from getting too close to the broken shards of glass strewn on the floor. His brain finally began to kick in. "How'd you get in here?"

Terry blushed red as MacGyver cocked his head in her direction, and he felt his heart skip a beat as the flush of her cheeks highlighted her pretty face even more. "You left your keys in the lock. I guess Roadie's got hidden talents!" She laughed again, music to Mac's tired ears. "He jumped up and got his teeth round the handle. Before I could stop him, he was inside! I'm really sorry, Mr MacGyver."

"Just MacGyver," Mac said, moving into the kitchen area to find a dustpan and brush. "And don't worry, it's not a problem. It was about time I woke up anyway!"

Terry looked even more guilty then. "Did we wake you? Oh God, I'm so sorry!" She moved across to take the brush from his hand. "Here, let me." Mac gave it up reluctantly only after her fingers closed over his and he almost dropped it from the shock of her electrifying touch. She appeared not to notice, stooping down and starting to scoop up the broken pieces of glass.

MacGyver bent down to pet the dog again and stop him from getting in her way. Terry carried on chatting as he watched her, finally taking in the rest of her now that her smile and sparkling eyes were no longer focused on him. She was wearing faded blue jeans that hugged a slender figure, a pale blue T-shirt with a beige jumper over the top against the cool late Spring morning. A pair of worn yellow Timberlands crunched glass beneath her feet.

"I've been house sitting for my brother while he's away. That's why I'm looking after Roadie. I love dogs, but I've never been able to have one of my own, I was never at home long enough until now. But they're my favourite people really."

Mac smiled, "Yeah, I know what you mean."

Terry paused for a moment to look at him and Mac felt his heart beat erratically again. "Unconditional love," she said simply. MacGyver looked puzzled until she explained, gazing at him, fixing him to the spot with her green brown eyes. "You can love them, feed them, take them out and look after them, but they will never demand anything except your love. They won't expect you to go to bed with them or marry them or do their laundry for them!"

It was Mac's turn to blush at her directness. Terry noticed, her nervous chatter finally coming to a halt as she examined his face, his soft brown eyes, the high cheekbones now tinged pink, and his unkempt blond hair, mussed up from sleep. He smiled at her, a bashful, almost shy smile that made her heart race. She shook herself and cleared her throat, "I'm sorry. I'm babbling. I always do that when I'm nervous."

MacGyver reached out a hand and placed it over hers. "Don't be," he said gently. "I can't remember the last time I had a conversation with someone that wasn't work related." He grimaced involuntarily at the mention of that subject, an expression Terry couldn't help but notice. Suddenly everything added up inside her head, the keys in the door, the man asleep on his couch in the middle of a beautiful Saturday. The dark shadows beneath his eyes that looked like they'd been there far too long.

"Pulled an all nighter, huh?" Mac shrugged sheepishly. "Well how about I take you to breakfast?" She glanced at her watch, "Brunch even? It's the least I can do." She stood up, tilting the dustpan to gather the shards of glass safely into the scoop. "Do you have a newspaper we can wrap this in? I wouldn't want anyone cutting their hand when they empty the bin."

Mac nodded, standing upright and heading over to his desk to find a paper he'd finished with. Road Runner followed him. "I think you've made a friend for life," Terry laughed again, watching the tall, athletic looking man move fluidly across the floor, admiring the sight despite the rumpled jeans and sweatshirt that he'd slept in. "Listen, if you need to wash up or anything I'm quite happy to wait. You look like you need to shower off those work cobwebs!"

MacGyver handed her a newspaper and ran a hand through his hair. He nodded ingenuously, "I won't be long."

"Take your time," Terry smiled again and watched him head up to the loft.

By the time MacGyver returned freshly showered, his hair still dripping onto a clean sweatshirt as he towelled it dry, Terry had found some thick plastic in a kitchen drawer and duct taped it across his broken window.

MacGyver stepped up beside her, admiring her handiwork. "Nice!" he exclaimed.

Terry turned and grinned. "Duct tape," she said, "The answer to many a prayer!"

Mac blinked at her in surprise and Terry felt the full impact of his gaze, blushing down to her roots as she handed him back his roll of duct tape. She quickly turned away from his penetrating brown eyes and stooped to play with the dog instead, burying her head in his shaggy fur and kissing him lovingly.

For a second, Mac felt a pang of jealousy, but he shook it off, telling himself not to be so ridiculous. He hung the damp towel over the back of a chair and retrieved his keys from the front door lock.

Terry let go of Roadie and they both headed outside. The dog squeezed past MacGyver on the way out, thudding his tail against Mac's leg in a friendly manner. But when Terry brushed past him accidentally, it provoked an entirely different emotion in MacGyver's head. He licked his lips nervously, raised an eyebrow as she stepped outside obliviously, and blew out his cheeks, wondering how he could make it through breakfast with this astounding woman without making a complete fool of himself.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the diner near the marina they settled across from each other in a booth. Terry ordered fruit and a glass of milk, filling a saucer for Roadie. Mac got orange juice and a bran muffin. The waitress seemed quite upset that neither wanted her delicious fresh coffee.

"So Terry, what do you do?" Mac asked pleasantly, unprepared for her unusual answer.

"I'm a structural engineer," Terry said, watching him closely for the usual chauvinist response.

Mac raised an eyebrow interestedly. "How did you choose that career?" he asked, biting into his muffin and surprising Terry with his refreshingly non-judgmental question.

"Well I wanted something where I could work predominantly out in the open," Terry explained simply. "I thought about being a forest ranger or something, but I can't stand the cold! This way I can choose my work contracts somewhere warm!" She smiled that devastating smile again and Mac found himself nodding stupidly. "So what do you do, MacGyver?"

"Um.......I help people!" Mac winced at the dreadful answer, but he always had trouble explaining his profession in simple terms that would not prompt lots of unanswerable questions.

Terry smiled at the idea. "Like a good Samaritan?"

"Yeah, kind of," Mac grinned awkwardly.

"What a brilliant way to earn a living," Terry murmured admiringly.

"Yeah, it is," Mac smiled agreement, "Most of the time at least. Lately I've been stuck in the office doing research. But I prefer to be outside. Take a more active role in things."

"I can understand that," she nodded, curious to know what his definition of an active role was, but knowing exactly how he felt about being inside.

After dawdling over their extremely late breakfast, the conversation was still flowing naturally. By almost silent agreement they headed down to the beach, spending most of the afternoon playing with Roadie and talking about everything and anything.

By the time Mac walked Terry and Roadie to her door not long after sunset, he knew she loved the ocean, that her brother David was a scientist away on business, and that he was her only family. The subject of parents had been carefully avoided by Terry whenever the conversation drifted that way, something MacGyver found entirely understandable.

The rest of their discussions had included a shared love of ice hockey, specifically the LA Kings; Terry's so far unexplained dislike of snow; the fact that she had decided that her next contracting job had to be somewhere along the West coast because she missed the ocean; and Mac's discovery that she loved to ask a new question whenever she didn't want to answer one of his. Even so, she was incredibly easy to talk to and he'd found himself telling her things about his family and his life that he rarely spoke about to anyone.

MacGyver stopped at her gate and watched her walk up the path, wanting to ask the obvious without pushing his luck. Terry resolved his dilemma for him, halting a few feet away and turning to face him curiously.

For a moment she pondered the sight of this tall, handsome man, marvelling at how he could seem so bashful and yet so open and honest. The way he had talked about friends and family; his late Grandpa Harry; his mysterious line of work that seemed full of adventure and obviously satisfied his inherent need to help people, even though she got the impression it was all too often a dangerous profession. The way he expressed his beliefs on the wide variety of subjects their conversations had drifted to over the course of the afternoon. All in a manner that was at times shy but also profoundly passionate.

Here was a most unusual man, someone she felt drawn to, attracted to, someone she wanted to get to know much more deeply. Yet now he seemed strangely reticent.

Well if MacGyver wouldn't ask, she would just have to swallow her own timidity and ask for him. Terry took a deep breath and raised her eyes to meet his gaze. "Will I see you again?" she said shyly.

Mac smiled, "I hope so!"

"Tomorrow?" Terry asked tentatively, trying not to appear over eager.

"Yeah. Lunchtime?" Mac suggested, "I'll come by and pick you up!" He grinned widely when she nodded and his dimpled smile made her even gladder that she'd had the courage to ask. Then she watched him turn and walk away, pausing at the corner to make sure she got inside safely.

MacGyver dawdled the couple of miles down to the marina with a smile on his face and a deepening curiosity for what made this extraordinary woman tick. Whatever it was, somehow they just seemed to click. Their shared silence was as comfortable as their conversation and that was an aspect entirely missing from any of his other recent attempted relationships.

Letting himself into his darkened houseboat, Mac grabbed a bottle of juice from the fridge and flopped down on to the couch with thoughts of what the next day might bring. He grinned ruefully, delving down the back of the seat for the remote control that always seemed to end up buried there every time he slept on the sofa. Maybe being too exhausted to reach the bedroom the previous night wasn't such a bad state of affairs after all. It seemed there was untold fortune to be found from a simple change of sleeping location!

~~~~~~~~~~

MacGyver cycled up to Terry's house on Sunday lunchtime, leaning his bike against the wall and ringing the doorbell. Roadie barked from the backyard and he heard Terry shout, inviting him in the side entrance, her voice closely followed by a splashing noise.

He entered a wrought iron gate into a walled garden and found himself at the side of a long swimming pool. Beyond that was a landscaped area of Japanese design, geared for easy upkeep and probably to restrict the amount of digging areas the dog could find. The layout was beautiful, calm and serene, but it was more the swimming pool that caught MacGyver's eye. Or its contents to be exact.

Terry was gliding underwater across the pool, going two thirds of the way before coming up for air and swimming with a smooth practised stroke that barely made any waves. When she reached the side she paused long enough to shout, "Three more and I'm done!" Then she turned and kicked, diving below the surface to repeat the exercise.

By the time she came to a halt, Mac was sitting on the diving board at one end, holding the towel she had left there and playing with Roadie. Terry came up to the side, placed her hands flat on the warm tiled surround and pushed, springing lightly up onto one knee to lever herself out of the water. Then she stood before MacGyver, trying not to drip over his jeans as she took the towel he handed her and squeezed some of the excess water from her hair.

"Sorry, I hoped I'd be done before you arrived," she explained from beneath the towel.

"No problem," Mac replied, trying to keep his eyes from drifting down to admire her body in the swimsuit. It was the sort that most professionals wore, not designed to entice or highlight the figure at all, but it still revealed far more than he'd been expecting to see that day and it was difficult to keep his eyes off such a tall slender figure, with all the right curves. Her long tanned legs ended in petite feet that were rather pretty considering they were, after all, just feet, and wet ones at that. Somehow they matched perfectly with her delicate hands.

Fortunately most of MacGyver's admiring was done whilst Terry's head was hanging over to dry her hair through. Then she wrapped the damp towel around her and raised her gaze to face him.

"I just need a quick shower. Ten minutes and I'll be ready," she smiled.

"I'll be here," Mac replied easily, grinning as he watched her walk away, admiring the sight every step before Terry disappeared inside. Roadie barked as if in agreement with his appreciation and Mac turned his attention back to playing with the dog.

Terry was back in no time, dressed in jeans, her worn hiking boots and a sweater, her thick shoulder length hair still damp. "So what are we doing?"

"Got a bike?" MacGyver asked.

Terry smiled, "Of course! Can't say I have much use for cars, although at least David's is open topped!"

"I thought we could cycle up in to the hills," Mac explained.

"Sounds great! Can I bring Roadie?"

"Of course. But how?" MacGyver asked curiously.

She grinned, "He has his own basket!"

With that Terry locked up the back of the house, shoved her keys into her jeans pocket and headed for the garage to get her bicycle. On the front was a basket woven out of cane and padded with a blanket. Screwed to the base were two flat metal hooks which went up the side to hang over the handlebars. The screw heads and any other sharp edges were liberally covered with duct tape. There was also a long clip to connect to Roadie's collar, presumably to stop him from jumping out to chase tyres.

MacGyver looked at it. "You made that?" Terry nodded slowly, her head tilting to one side, wondering what he would think. "Nice!" he said admiringly.

She laughed, her eyes twinkling, "I pride myself on my engineering prowess!"

They set off across the city, Terry doing a surprisingly good job of keeping up with Mac's longer legs given the extra weight she was pushing with Roadie in her basket. When they reached the hills, Mac stopped and took the basket from her to hook over his own handlebars. Roadie yapped happily and then MacGyver spent the rest of the ride trying to keep up with Terry's strong legs and lighter frame.

By the time they stopped, both were puffing from the exertion of constant competition. "Okay, I give up!" Mac panted, laughing as he pulled off the track and admired the view over the city below. In the cooler Spring air the smog had cleared and they could see all the way to the sparkling Pacific Ocean.

"Wow!" Mac exclaimed at the sight, lifting Roadie's basket to the ground. He shrugged his small backpack from his shoulders and flopped down onto the soft grass nearby.

Terry was unbuckling Roadie, letting him out of the basket to run around. "Yeah, it's something isn't it!"

"Want anything to eat? I brought a picnic," MacGyver asked, getting food and some cartons of drink from his pack.

"I thought you'd never ask! I'm starving!" Terry sat down beside him, watching him unpack the well wrapped items and gratefully accepting a carton of milk from the bag of ice he'd packed it in, along with an apple and an orange. She started peeling the orange, carefully removing skin and pith, before tearing off a segment and popping it into her mouth. MacGyver pulled open a bag of doggie treats and started feeding them to Roadie, making him beg for each one.

"You know you're quite an enigma, MacGyver," she said, smiling gently as she watched him.

Mac cocked his head at her, "Why's that?"

"Well you're so full of surprises," Terry explained quietly, "You're unlike any other man I've met."

"Is that good?" MacGyver asked ingenuously.

"Absolutely!" Terry grinned, then she looked at him almost bashfully, finally putting voice to the thought that had been on her mind since she had first met him. A thought that had only been strengthened by every minute detail she had discovered about this man and his life in the twenty four hours since. "Actually, it's kind of extraordinary!"

"Well I'd say you're a bit of an enigma yourself," Mac informed her.

Terry regarded him curiously, "Why?"

"Well anyone who peels an orange quite so thoroughly and use words like 'extraordinary' has to be pretty special!" he teased.

"Is that good?" Terry couldn't resist asking.

"Extraordinary, my dear!" he responded in a terrible British upper-crust accent, getting pelted by Terry's orange peel as a result.

MacGyver laughed, rolling away onto his back to escape her attack only for Roadie to jump onto his stomach playfully, licking his neck with a soppy pink tongue. "Hey, no fair! You two are working as a team!"

"That's right! Roadie you keep him down, I'll rob him of every piece of duct tape he's got!" Terry laughed.

Mac stood up and shook orange peel from his hair, moving a few feet away to play with Roadie. Finding a stick, he threw it for the dog to fetch. When he turned around, Terry was carefully picking up every single piece of orange peel she had thrown at him and putting it inside an empty paper bag.

"That will rot you know!" Mac said with a grin, stopping to watch her.

"I know, but there are enough rotten things in this world already, aren't there?" she said.

Mac shrugged, then, looking directly at her, he said softly, "Lot of good things too!"

Terry glanced up and found herself fixed by his dark brown eyes, blushing red when she got his meaning. She held his gaze for a long moment. "Yeah, I guess there are!" she said shyly.

With a glance at her watch she broke the spell. "We'd better finish our picnic and start back. I didn't bring the lights for my bike."

"Me either," MacGyver admitted, sliding back down on to the grass beside her and opening a carton of juice.

~~~~~~~~~~

By mid week, Mac and Terry had arranged to meet at an LA Kings game for which MacGyver had been given a couple of tickets by a colleague who knew he was a huge fan of ice hockey. Originally Mac had thought he wouldn't have time to attend the game with his hefty workload, but now he had some incentive to finish up the project's draft report on time and head for the ice. Still, he gave Terry her ticket in advance and arranged to meet at their seats, not wishing to leave her hanging around outside the rink in case he got held up.

In the end, MacGyver made it to the game just after the start of the first quarter, cursing his lateness and glad they had each taken their individual tickets so that at least they both didn't have to miss the face off. When he found his seat he was surprised to find the adjoining one empty. Apparently he wasn't the only one who had been delayed.

Mac felt a tinge of disappointment. It had been another bad day where he was beginning to wonder what he was doing anymore, he certainly wasn't helping anyone knowing the gloomy results his current project had produced. He had been really looking forward to seeing Terry again. She was so refreshingly unCalifornian for a start.

He knew he was falling for her in a big way, why else would he be taking it so slow? This was one person he didn't want to scare off by doing the wrong thing. He wanted to get to know Terry in infinite detail before he made the next move. Besides, if she didn't feel the same way about him, she still had the potential of being an incredibly good friend and he valued that almost as much.

MacGyver smiled to himself, it certainly was unusual for him to be so reticent. Up till now he had only walked Terry to her door and given her a kiss on the cheek. Roadie had gotten more kisses from them both. But during his overly long and tedious working day, Mac had found himself looking forward to spending more time with Terry tonight and wondering where their next conversation might lead. Still he was sure she would turn up soon. In the meantime, there was some fast end to end action on the ice to get caught up in.

By the third quarter, Terry still hadn't shown and MacGyver was beginning to think he'd been stood up. Perhaps it was her way of letting him down gently, he speculated disappointedly. Until he realised that would be way out of character for her. She seemed too considerate a person to do something like that, she wouldn't have let him down on purpose.

Unable to quash his worries any longer, Mac left his seat and headed out of the stadium to retrieve his car from the busy parking lot.

MacGyver pulled the Nomad to a halt outside Terry's place. It was her brother's home, she was housesitting as well as looking after his dog for him whilst he was out of the country.

Terry had talked a lot about her brother David, he was the only family she had. As was often the case with siblings, she didn't know a great deal about his work, except that he was a scientist. But Mac had seen a picture of the two of them and, from the way Terry talked, it was obvious they were close. To some extent MacGyver envied that. He had often wondered what it would have been like to not be an only child. Still, he did have friends who he considered as close as brothers and sisters, so he probably had the best of both worlds.

The house was dark and silent as Mac stepped up to the door and rang the bell. He waited a long minute but there wasn't a sound from inside. He leaned on the bell again, hearing it echoing through the quiet rooms beyond.

"Terry? You in there?" he called through the door, but there was no answer.

Mac stepped back with a frown, the hackles rising on the back of his neck. Something was wrong, his gut told him that, but he hadn't a clue what it was. "Teresa, open the door. It's MacGyver." Still no answer. Mac shrugged, almost positive that she was in there, except he hadn't heard anything from the dog.

Mystified, Mac turned around and walked back down the path. He had almost reached his car when he thought better of it and pulled his Swiss army knife from his pocket, heading back to the front door to pick the lock.

The flimsy catch was all too easy to get past and MacGyver slipped inside, calling out to Terry again to announce his presence, not wishing to scare her if she was indeed there.

"Terry? It's MacGyver. Are you home?" He stepped into the living room.

"Go away, MacGyver!" Terry's voice sounded strained.

Mac blinked in the darkness, trying to adjust his eyes. The curtains had been drawn across the sliding doors out into the yard, although they were billowing in the slight breeze so the doors were obviously open. The lights were all off and the only illumination came from the street lamps shining into the hall through the windows around the front door.

MacGyver focused on the voice and spotted a dark silhouette on the sofa with her back to him. "Terry? You okay?" he asked gently. "You didn't answer the door."

"That's because I didn't want to talk to you," she replied harshly.

"You didn't turn up at the game, I was concerned," Mac explained his presence as though it wasn't obvious.

"I'm sorry. I should have called you, but I was too chicken," Terry said in a small voice.

"If you didn't want to go, you only had to say so," MacGyver sounded hurt and he winced, wishing he could hide his feelings better.

"Well I'm saying it now," she answered quietly, "I don't want to see you any more MacGyver. I'm sorry I wasn't more up front with you before, but I can't see you again. You have to leave, okay?"

"Okay, I'm going," Mac said with some irritation, "I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I'm fine Mac. Thanks," Terry said insistently. She fell silent and MacGyver could feel the rising tension as she waited for him to leave. He hesitated, wanting to say more, wishing he could tell her how he felt, but it was too late for that.

Face it Mac, you blew it, he thought to himself. He leaned on the door jamb, tapping his fingers as he tried to find something to say, but nothing came to mind. With a deep sigh, MacGyver removed his hand from the door and left the house.

He had turned three right corners in his car before he realised he was heading back to Terry's place. Maybe he didn't know her all that well yet, but he liked to think his judgment wasn't that off, and they'd ended the previous evening on good terms. Besides she didn't seem exactly happy to see the back of him. If she really wanted him to go he thought he'd at least have sensed her relief.

Mac parked the Nomad outside her home again, another nagging thought springing back to mind. Where was Roadie?

He headed back up the path determinedly, pulling his Swiss army knife from his pocket to open the front door again. This time he found the door had been bolted from the inside, he would have to find another way in.

MacGyver pondered for a moment and then remembered the open sliding doors. He turned along the side path down to the gate that entered the walled garden. It had been left unlocked and Mac again wondered as to the whereabouts of the dog. He pushed the gate open and entered the yard.

Mac quietly walked along the edge of the pool and onto the patio. In the moonlight he saw the busted window, broken shards of glass from the sliding doors crunching under his boots.

"Terry, it's MacGyver again," he warned, but this time he got no answer at all. He pushed his way through the billowing curtains and carefully stepped over the jagged edges of glass still attached to the door frame, his mind racing with questions of what had happened here.

In the darkness of the living room he waited for his eyes to adjust and then moved towards the silhouette of a lamp at a table nearby. His hand reached for the switch when Terry whispered hoarsely, "Don't Mac, please don't." The last word was almost a sob and MacGyver turned the light on regardless, needing to know the source of her distress.

Mac looked past the lamp to the couch where Terry was sitting, her long legs hugged tight to her chest, her head turned away from him. One hand was shielding her eyes against the bright light.

He studied her silently, noticing the slight trembling in her hand. Finally, he moved towards her. "Terry, what happened?" he asked softly, but got no answer.

Looking around, MacGyver noticed an upturned chair, a broken vase, but nothing major, nothing that looked like a robbery. Even the VCR was still in place.

When he got nearer, Terry covered her face with both palms. Mac crouched in front of her, moving his fingers to cover hers, to gradually pull her hands away.

"Mac, please don't," Terry's pleading voice was barely audible, but she had no strength to fight his fingers as he gently forced her arms down, careful not to hurt her as he did so.

Terry turned her head away from the light and Mac clasped both her hands in his larger left one, feeling them tremble beneath his grasp. "It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you," he assured her. "Look at me Terry. I'm not going to hurt you."

Tenderly laying the fingers of his right hand against her jaw, he turned her face towards him, feeling her fight him every inch of the way.

"Oh my God!" Mac hissed painfully, his left hand involuntarily clenching over hers at the sight. A stark red welt marred her cheek, her left eye surrounded by purplish bruising beginning to turn black. A patch of blood matted her hair from a cut on the top of her head. "Terry, what happened to you? Who did this?"

She pulled away from his touch. "It doesn't matter, it's none of your business, MacGyver," she said resolutely, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Yes it is," he replied gently, "Someone's hurt you, that makes it my business." He moved both hands to her shoulders, turning her body to face him, rubbing her arms comfortingly.

"No Mac, you're not involved. I don't want you to be involved," Terry's voice was raised louder than it should have been and MacGyver could see how flimsy her control was.

"I am involved, Terry," he said emphatically. "I care about you, I care a lot. I can't just walk away."

"Please, Mac?" she whispered pleadingly. "Please go! I don't want you to get hurt."

"Well there now, you see, it's already too late," Mac grinned weakly. "You're hurting and that hurts me." He moved one hand to the nape of her neck and gently turned her head to face him, bobbing higher to meet her avoiding gaze. "I can help you," he told her, quietly but firmly, locking his eyes on hers. His heart clenched painfully at the absence of their normal sparkle, replaced by shadows lurking behind her glazed frightened look. "Let me help you, Terry."

She shook her head, tightlipped, but unable to pull away from his penetrating gaze. Unwilling to stop himself, MacGyver leaned closer and kissed her lips, so softly it was barely a whisper of breath, but it was proof to himself and to Terry that he meant every word.

He pulled away only far enough to look at her again. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her resolute defences beginning to crumble. Mac felt horrible for doing it to her, but it had to be done, she had to give into it before she could get past it. He brushed his lips over hers again, then moved up to place soft kisses on her bruised cheek, her eyelids, tenderly pushing the blood matted hair out of the way to kiss her forehead, then the top of her head. Finally, he wrapped her in his embrace protectively until she sank against him, her resolve eroded by his caring.

Terry began to sob in his arms, her warm body shuddering as she finally released the emotion locked up inside her. Mac held her tightly, rocking her gently, whispering softly in her ear until she began to quieten a little, the shudders subsiding to a tremble.

Eventually, she pulled away from him, sniffling and reaching for a box of tissues on the end table. "They did something to Roadie," she gazed at MacGyver tearfully, "In the kitchen."

MacGyver patted her hand and stood up, heading out into the hall to find the kitchen, turning lights on along the way. The dog was lying on the tiled floor next to a newspaper containing a piece of raw steak. Checking him over, Mac realised that Roadie had been drugged. The dog was simply sleeping soundly, he would be fine, albeit somewhat dopey when he finally awoke.

Mac filled the kettle and rummaged in the cupboards, finding some tea and a bowl of sugar. Waiting for the water to boil, he gently lifted Roadie in his arms and carried him into the living room.

Terry had not moved and gazed at the dog with such a look of distress that Mac quickly explained, "He'll be fine. He's just been fed some kind of tranquilliser." He placed the sleeping dog on the couch beside her and disappeared back out into the hall again.

MacGyver returned with a first aid kit and a mug of tea, hot and extremely sweet. "Sip this, you'll feel better," he told her, placing the cup in her two hands and kneeling in front of her.

Terry's hands shook so badly that the tea spilled onto her jeans and MacGyver reached up to close his own fingers over hers, steadying her so she could drink from the mug.

He studied her closely, noting her torn shirt, the left shoulder and the top buttons ripped. There were red welts on her wrist that looked like fingers, large fingers.

"Did they.......," he hesitated, unable to bring himself to say the word, to voice his fear that she may have been raped. He took a deep breath and tried again, "Did they.......touch you?"

Terry gazed at him with red rimmed eyes, understanding his meaning from the look on his face. "No," she shook her head. "I'm okay Mac," she whispered, "I just got a bit overwrought that's all. I'm fine!"

"No you're not," he said gently, taking the now empty mug from her. He pulled her into his embrace again, wrapping her warmly, wishing he could protect her from the world. He kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, and she tilted her head towards him, enabling him to place another soft kiss on her lips.

Terry pulled away slightly, staring into his eyes for a long moment before she moved towards him again and met his mouth. She kissed him, her full lips pressing against his needfully, eliciting a strong response. Their jaws moved together, the kiss deepening passionately. Terry's fingers trailed up his back to entangle in his hair as MacGyver's hands drifted around her waist.

Suddenly Mac saw the warning signs flashing in his head and he pulled away, hating himself for the hurt look on Terry's face. "Wait, wait, wait!" he protested desperately, "This isn't right."

"Yes it is," Terry replied, her voice husky with emotion.

"No it's not," MacGyver said tenderly, his hands caressing her shoulders. "You're emotional and distressed, I'm not going to take advantage of that." He dragged his gaze away from hers, feeling himself being sucked in by her captivating green brown eyes. "Much as I want to join you, I'm putting you to bed and then I'll call the police."

"No!" Terry almost yelled, "You can't call the police." She placed a shaky hand on his face to turn his gaze back to her. "No police!" she said firmly.

MacGyver stared at her, studying her carefully, chewing his lip. Finally he nodded, it could wait till morning. Maybe once she'd had some sleep Terry would change her mind, at least she might be up to telling him what had happened. In the meantime, he could always do some investigating of his own.

"Okay," he agreed, reaching for the first aid kit to set about cleaning the cut on the top of her head.

Finished, he stood up and held out a hand to her. Terry uncurled her legs off the sofa to stand unsteadily. She took one step forward, then stopped and turned to face him. Mac winced inwardly as the lamplight illuminated all the stark bruising on her pale face, vowing to find whoever had done this to her.

Terry hesitated for a moment, afraid to admit how dependent she felt on him tonight. How much she needed him to stay with her. How frightened she felt at the thought of being alone, of trying to sleep, not knowing if they would return, either literally, or in her dreams.

She gazed at MacGyver, his open face, his kind eyes. Somehow she felt so much safer now that he was here. Maybe this was how he truly helped people - he saved them from their own fears as well as from the people who threatened them. His reassuring presence could make anyone feel secure, make them feel strong enough to win through and survive. But how could she ask for his help? How could she burden Mac with her troubles? Surely there were people out there who needed him more?

Terry felt another cold shudder of fear course through her body at the thought of MacGyver leaving and she knew she had to ask. She needed him so badly right now. She needed his comfort and his help. She had to ask.

Focusing on him, Terry struggled with the words until Mac smiled encouragingly. "You won't leave me tonight, will you?" she said uneasily.

MacGyver hugged her to him. "I'm never leaving you," he whispered softly, feeling her sink against him in relief, her terror beginning to release its grip. Realising how much he meant the words and not wanting to scare her off with the depth of his feelings, he added hesitantly, "Not until you want me to."

~~~~~~~~~~

Mac stayed with Terry until she fell asleep, then he went downstairs and lifted Roadie into his arms, returning to the bedroom to place the dog beside her. He watched the pair of them sleep for a long while, analysing his own burgeoning feelings for this woman, trying to figure out why he was falling so hard, so fast. She was such a strange mix, fiercely independent yet so vulnerable, worldly wise yet innocent, untouched by everything cruel and evil in this world, in MacGyver's world. Until now.

Shaking himself from his reverie, he bent to kiss the sleeping woman's forehead and tucked her arm around Roadie's neck, hoping the comfort would keep away any night terrors. Then he went downstairs to do some checking around.

By the time MacGyver had finished, he had some inner terrors of his own, renewed fear for what had happened to Terry. He was also confused. It appeared that whoever had attacked Terry must have entered the house using a key. There were no signs of forced entry or that anyone else had picked the front door lock except himself.

The picture of events revealed that they had drugged Roadie and taken Terry by surprise. Furniture had been overturned, possibly by Terry trying to put obstacles in their way as she attempted to escape via the sliding doors.

They, whoever they were, had apparently shot at her, smashing the glass outwards. Two bullets were still lodged in the door frame. Mac had to assume they were warning shots, but the pattern of bullets was so close it disturbed him to think how easily Terry could have been killed.

Even so, the bruises on her wrist and face told him they had wanted information from her. What kind of information MacGyver could not imagine until he entered a small room off the main hall that was obviously used as an office. It had been thoroughly searched, papers ransacked and strewn all over. The computer had been left on and boxes of diskettes lay spread over the desk. They had been looking for something and it seemed more like something to do with Terry's brother. Whatever David was into, his apparently innocent sister had now been caught up in it too.

On the desk was a framed photograph of brother, sister and dog. A loving happy family, all that they had. MacGyver took the picture from the frame and pocketed it in his jacket, planning on running it through the Phoenix databases to see whether there was any history on Terry's brother.

With little else he could do until Terry was rested enough to talk, Mac returned upstairs to her bedroom. He lifted an armchair nearer to the bed and settled down as comfortably as he could.

~~~~~~~~~~

MacGyver was woken at daybreak by a strange whining sound. Gradually, he emerged from his recurring dream, one that often still haunted him whenever he was stressed out or emotionally confused. An eternity of running. Running to reach the hospital before his Mom died. Running to the scene of the accident that took away his Dad and Grandma. Running to catch up with his Grandfather before he went away for good.

He slowly opened his eyes to focus on the source of the noise. It was Roadie, whimpering softly in his sleep, but it appeared to be a subconscious reaction to his bed companion. Terry was tossing and turning, her lips moving in mumbled words, her limbs tangling in the blankets.

Mac sat up, hesitantly reaching out towards her. His hand hovered over her shoulder, wondering whether to wake her or try to calm her. Terry turned again, rolling away, onto her side. The blanket caught beneath her and, in the growing light of dawn, MacGyver saw the shadowy bruising on her hip and thigh as the T-shirt she was sleeping in rode higher.

He winced at the black and purple marks, wondering again what had happened the previous day and, moreover, why. Without thinking his hand went to stroke Terry's hair comfortingly and after a while she settled on to her back, visibly relaxing again.

MacGyver pulled his hand away and sat back into the armchair, watching her carefully. Terry's eyes flickered slightly, disturbed by the loss of contact, and soon she awoke, blinking slowly. She looked at him, a lost and innocent stare marred by the darkening bruise around her left eye and on her cheek.

Mac felt the full impact of her gaze, his heart filled with a mixture of emotions, not the least of which was love. And he found himself trying to weigh such depth of feeling against how he had felt before discovering this battered victim, wondering if perhaps it was caused by his need to protect and defend.

But if he admitted the truth to himself he knew he'd been falling in love with this woman since the first day they had met, he was simply using her current condition to justify those feelings to himself. He didn't love her more because of her new vulnerability, he was just allowing himself to acknowledge it without fearing it so much. He had something else to focus his fear on - Terry's safety, her well being and her future.

Terry blinked at him, her eyes visibly confused as she tried to remember what he was doing there. MacGyver could tell the second she did by the shadow that seemed to move over her like a pall.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he finally said softly. "You were having some sort of vivid dream. Do you remember what it was about?"

Terry glanced at him, knowledge appearing in her eyes like a light, but she shook her head and MacGyver could tell she didn't lie very often, she did it so badly. Still, if she didn't want to tell him about it, that was up to her, but it hurt him a little that she would not yet share something that had disturbed her so badly.

Terry tipped her head up to stare at the ceiling, then she took a deep breath and sat up, hugging her knees to her chest and resting her chin on her hands, studying him. "How long have you been here?" she eventually asked for no particular reason.

MacGyver shrugged sheepishly, then his eyes strayed to the bruises on her leg again. "Feel up to talking about it yet?" he asked softly, watching her reaction.

Terry gestured reluctantly, turning her gaze down to some point at the foot of the bed. When she didn't speak, Mac tried another tack, reaching out a finger to gently trace the bruises on her thigh. "How did you get these?"

Curiously, Terry looked down, twisting slightly and raising her T-shirt to track the colourful marks on her body. She chewed her lip nervously and Mac could see she was reliving the events and how much they frightened her. He shifted from the chair to sit on the bed in front of her, taking her hands in his, stroking them reassuringly.

Finally she raised her eyes to look at him. "Baby grand," she murmured. MacGyver stared at her uncomprehendingly until she took a deep breath and expanded on her statement, "I fell against the piano."

"Fell? Or thrown?" Mac persisted, ignoring the new surge of anger churning his stomach acidly as he urged Terry to admit what had been done, to face it, so that she might get past it.

"Thrown," she eventually acknowledged, her quivering voice barely audible. MacGyver made a mental note to get her checked over thoroughly by a doctor in case she had any fractured ribs or kidney damage. She was probably fine, but Terry had obviously hit the edge of the piano pretty hard, judging by the already deep colour of the bruising.

"Anywhere else hurt I can't see?" Mac asked gently. Terry's eyes turned away again and Mac knew the answer immediately. He squeezed her hand still hugged against her legs. "Where, Terry?"

"Back," she murmured.

"How bad?"

Terry shrugged, feeling a twinge of pain in her left shoulder like a pulled muscle. Reluctantly she swivelled round on the bed until her back was facing MacGyver, inviting him implicitly. Then she leaned over, reaching out to hug Roadie, who was still sleeping off the effects of the tranquillisers, burying her head in his fur whilst Mac carefully raised her T-shirt to seek out any damage.

Gently and clinically he ran his fingers over her bruised hip first, checking for signs of deeper injury up towards her waist. He shifted closer to check further up her back, lifting the cotton T-shirt almost to her neck before finding the stark imprint between her shoulder blades. Apparently somebody had kicked Terry when she was lying injured or stunned on the ground, and kicked hard.

MacGyver winced, examining the bruise, pressing as lightly as he could. Terry coughed as if in reaction, sitting upright to free her airway and cough again, frightening Mac with visions of internal bleeding.

She reached across for a glass of water, sipping it slowly to moisten her dry throat between coughs. Mac rubbed her lower back tenderly, a reflex action he did not become aware of until Terry shivered, slightly goose bumps rising on her silky skin at the sensation of his long fingers gently stroking her spine.

Terry replaced the glass onto the nightstand and turned back to face him. Her breath catching in her throat as Mac's hand accidentally trailed across her skin when she swivelled around, coming to rest at her side and brushing against her breast before he realised, pulling his hand rapidly away and flushing pink.

Terry looked up at him, her eyes filled with a desire that he also felt but knew he could not act upon. Not here, not yet. Instead he took her hands in his and spoke firmly, "Terry, we need to get you checked over by a doctor and you have to tell me everything that happened."

She nodded almost imperceptibly, a look of fear returning to her eyes. MacGyver took a deep breath, holding her hands more tightly, "How many were there?"

"Four," Terry whispered, lowering her gaze again. "They appeared out of nowhere when I was practising on the piano yesterday lunchtime."

"Did you see their faces?" She nodded slightly. "Would you recognise them again?" Her head bobbed once more and Mac felt her shudder. "What did they want?"

"David!" She swallowed hard, raising her head to look at him again, fear and confusion on her face, "They wanted to know where David was. They said he was doing some work for them." Tears filled Terry's eyes. "I don't know where he is, Mac. He just called me and asked me to look after Roadie. He said he had to fly out on some urgent business, then he hung up. I don't know where he is. I haven't spoken to him since." Her voice was a frightened whisper, "They wouldn't believe me."

Mac pulled her into his embrace, feeling her tremble against him. Anger bubbled up inside him as he realised the harm they had done to her trying to extract information that she couldn't give them even if she'd wanted to.

"They said if I called the police they'd kill David when they found him and then they'd come back for me." Terry sank against him, wrapping her arms around him, clinging tightly. MacGyver pressed soft kisses to her hair, wishing he could magic away her distress. But he could do nothing to determine the fate of her absent brother, at least not here.

"Terry," he murmured, "I can help find your brother. Come down to the Phoenix Foundation with me and we can put out a search for him." She nodded slightly against his chest and Mac added tentatively, "We also need to put together pictures of the four men who attacked you, after we get the doctor to check you over. Can you do that for me?"

Slowly Terry lifted her head, studying him for a long time before she eventually agreed, trusting him willingly.

"Have a good hot shower and get dressed while I make some tea," Mac suggested gently.

She nodded again, reluctantly releasing him, so that he could get out of her way. Terry watched him go, struggling to unjumble the mix of strong emotions she felt. Fear, worry and love all fighting for supremacy in a chaotic turmoil. She stood up stiffly and shakily, taking a deep controlling breath and shedding her clothes as she headed for the adjoining bathroom, trying to concentrate on the here and now and not think about the past or the impending future.

~~~~~~~~~~

NOW GO TO PART 1b

Hi Elaine! It's me, Nymph, the pesky one who tracked you down.

Thanks for posting the story here.

I have a question.



Here it is. Did the chapter get chopped off or is "When Terry went down the hall to use the rest room, Pete return" the end?

Hi!!

Ummm, well I did say I was a forum virgin!

There's about a third of the posting missing off the bottom, so I guess there's some kind of limit, but I haven't a clue what it is. I did preview the posting before I sent it and the whole chapter was intact then, so I don't know how to tell what the cutoff point is. Any ideas?

I guess the same goes for all the other parts I've posted too. It's all a bit tricky what with the several hours time delay of postings being sent to the moderator for approval first, then me being on UK time too! LOL

Erm, I'll post the rest as part Bs or something. Bear with me!

Okay, I've posted all the missing bits, just have to wait for them to show up on the list.

If anyone can tell me the maximum size of a posting, I'll be able to make sure this doesn't happen with the other 4 stories when I get to them.

Thnx
e

Um, well, Rocky's the board genius.

I think there are some size or maybe word count? limitations on posts, but I think he can expand them.

We'll have to wait until he gets on line to know for sure what the hiccup is.

Rocky! Rocky! He's our man! If he can't fix it no one can! *cheerleader kick* yeah.. i use the pink elephant. If I do it I'll just pull a hamstring.

Ooo.. Ooo... you're posting it! So exciting! I decided to re-read this one last week. It's one of my ultimate favorite Mac stories.

Glad you're here, Elaine! Welcome!

Yay! She's here!!! I love your fiction!!!! Any chance that you will bring any new material? Welcome Elaine!!!

Welcome! I'm glad you joined us, too! I enjoyed Ice Cold in Alaska, and I look forward to reading your other stories as well.

Read the second part of Chapter one.. thanks for reposting. I don't know if Rocky has PM'd you on the matter or not but he increased the post size so you shouldn't have anymore size problems in future postings. He increased it to... 300kbs... I dunno... he started talking bytes to me and my eyes glazed over. Anyway, size does matter... and .. yeah.

Other than loving the feel of the story, very smooth, I have one comment to make. I hate to do this, since I'm the one that asked you to post. But it's meant as a constructive critisism, please take it that way.

I don't know if this bugs me because it just seems odd or because it doesn't seem right or if it's a pet peev or what, but I notice it a lot. Especially in stories that involve SAM. It's almost like people are trying to overstress the relationship.

When I'm talking to my father, I don't say "Dad" in every interchange. I only use his name when I'm trying to get his attention or am saying something like... "I love you Dad". You know what I mean?



Loving the story so far. Off to the next installment.

Thank you for joining especially to share your stories with us.
This is very good so far. I really like the bits with Roadie as I can see MacGyver using the dog as a way to distract from him feeling shy around a new crush. And this bit made me laugh lots -

I've had moments like those myself!
I've warmed to Terry's character too (not just Roadies! ) and really hope MacGyver can help her.