Back at the houseboat, MacGyver sat in his favorite chair, still stung by his daughter’s words… and even more by his own. He loved her as much as if she was his own flesh and blood, and he was doing his best to be a good father to her. Maybe he was overprotective of her, but he was just being a dad. She was overreacting, not him. Is it just her, he wondered, or is there something else to this, too? Am I partly to blame here? Granted, Christmas was an incredibly hard time of the year for him… December 14 was when he had lost his dad and grandma in a terrible car accident. His mom had died around the holidays too, years later, when he was on assignment with the Special Forces in Afganistan. She’d had a stroke, and had died before Mac could get home. But I thought I dealt with all that, the year the Madonna was stolen from the church, he thought. Then there had been the death of the priest who ran that church, who had been a good friend. Then there was Charlie Robinson, Booker Wilson…the violent way Booker had died especially haunted Mac, even after all these years… there were moments when he could still see, in his mind’s eye, the horrible sight of his friend hanging by a noose in that abandoned warehouse… Mac stopped himself. If he went on like this, he’d just get himself even more depressed than he already was. And it didn’t help his immediate problem, his argument with Stacey.
He pulled out the tree ornaments, and started trimming the tree he’d bought that morning. Part of what had set things off was that Stacey wanted to go Christmas shopping, and he’d wanted her to stay home and help him decorate the tree. He didn’t like her going off by herself, as there were still concerns that the militia from which she’d escaped was still stalking her. Also, he’d never had a child around, and preferred to err on the side of caution when it came to keeping an eye on Stacey. Kids, he thought, rolling his eyes. Well, maybe it’s just as well I didn’t have Sam around when he was growing up. I’d worry about him even more than I do about Stacey. Stacey had been moping a lot recently, and he’d been off in his own world, too, preoccupied with the deaths of his parents, his grandparents, and more and more these days, the deaths of his many friends over the years. He suddenly realized that he was terrified of losing Stacey, at least as much as he dreaded losing Sam. And Pete was still around, still working for the Foundation, but he was getting older all the time, and his health had begun to decline. His sight was failing fast, and it would be just a matter of time before he was completely blind, and would have to retire. It won’t be long before I lose him, too. The thought sent a few tears rolling down his face.
Another thought struck him. For almost the first time, he realized he’d seen deep pain etched in Stacey’s face for the last month or so. To a certain extent, it had been there ever since they had first met, but it had become even more plain as the holidays approached. “I’ve been really selfish the last few weeks,” he said aloud. I have someone else to think about now; my daughter is hurting really bad, and all I can think about is me.” He felt ashamed of himself. He wondered if Stacey was feeling awkward or not quite a part of the family yet. It wouldn’t surprise him; he could only imagine the kind of mixed feelings that adopted kids dealt with. How can I show her that she really is part of my family now? How can I show her that I love her as much as I would if she were my own daughter?

Stacey wandered into a shop. Time to start looking, she thought. She wandered around, looking amongst sweatshirts and other clothes. Hmm. Dad’s Minnesota sweatshirt is getting pretty ratty. That might be one possibility…oh, shoot. That’s right, Sam said he was going to get a new Minnesota sweatshirt for Dad. At one counter, she found Swiss Army knives for sale. Some of them were pretty nice… and expensive. Then she remembered.
A few weeks before, Mac had lost his knife. He had been outside, fiddling with some project… she couldn’t remember what… and had accidentally knocked his knife into the water. He had been pretty dejected about it, saying, “The bottom of this harbor is really soft sand. It’s gone.” As far as Stacey knew, he still hadn’t gotten around to replacing it.
It was rougher than she had expected, being adopted like this. For the most part, she and her father had been getting along pretty well. They’d had a few minor spats, mostly over stupid stuff. Until now, she hadn’t minded him keeping such a close eye on her. She had felt safe, knowing that, finally, someone cared about her and was genuinely watching out for her. What had set her off like that?
This wasn’t her first holiday season without her mom and dad, but she realized it was the first holiday season when she’d had a chance to miss them. The last couple of years, when she’d been held hostage by those racist idiots, they’d kept her so busy all the time, with their stupid paramilitary BS and crazy ideas and always threatening to kill her if she ran off. She’d just been trying to stay alive, and hadn’t had any time for grief. Now she was OK, with a brother and a father who, she knew, would do anything to protect her. Am I just missing Mom and Dad, or…?
She settled on a nice knife, a Victorinox Superchamp, with quite a few features. Her father’s old knife had been one of the very basic ones. This one had a Phillips screwdriver, a small blade, two blades, a can opener… and more toys. The ones Stacey especially got a kick out of were the ballpoint pen, and a tiny screwdriver, for eyeglasses. True, Dad doesn’t wear glasses, but if I know him, he’ll find a use for it sooner or later. There were also leather sheaths available, for carrying a knife on one’s belt. She grinned, and called the clerk over.

Mac had finished the tree. It was kind of scrawny, the kind he called a “Charlie Brown tree.” But he had put lights on it, and strings of popcorn, and a few favorite old ornaments that he still had from when he was a kid. It didn’t look too bad, actually.
Now, he thought, I have to think of something to get Stacey. What the heck can I get for her? He was still getting to know his daughter, and had no idea what she might like.
He decided to head out for awhile. He was starting to feel claustrophobic, and he just might get lucky and spot something nice.

As Mac headed along the sidewalk downtown, he thought of his own parents, and his grandfather, gone for so many years now. He still felt bad about not making it to his mom’s bedside before she died, and he hadn’t been there when Harry passed away, either. Though they had both been gone a long time, he still missed them badly. Granted, he had seen both of them, and his dad, during a near-death experience a few years back. But he still wondered if that had been real, or if it had been some kind of weird dream. At the time, he had felt reassured that death wasn’t really the end. But it had been easy to lose sight of that, and now the fact that Pete wasn’t doing well was weighing heavily on Mac’s heart.
It had never occurred to MacGyver that he would actually lose Pete one day. Since that goofy, Keystone Kops encounter more than ten years ago, Pete had become his best friend, and more than that: he was like an older brother, a father figure, a teacher, a voice of wisdom. Pete had also taken to Stacey immediately, becoming a surrogate grandfather to her. Pete had always respected Mac enough to call him on his behavior when he was out of line, and cared enough to always reach out to Mac, even when the younger man wasn’t ready for it. After Harry had died, and before Sam had come along, Pete had been Mac’s only family. Mac owed Pete his life several times over, and had pulled Pete out of more than a few deadly situations, as well. The two could always make each other laugh, and each knew he could trust the other man to the very end. Mac found himself wondering whether Pete knew just how much he meant to him. He resolved that once the holidays were over, he would go and talk to his friend, and tell him all this. He didn’t want his best friend to die without knowing how much he was loved.
He realized, as he walked along, that he had become terrified that either Sam or Stacey would die far too young. For so long, everyone close to him had died. He knew he had to get over this fear, but he just couldn’t. Not now, with Pete starting to approach it as well.
Mac stopped and stared out over the water. It had suddenly occurred to him that death wasn’t just at the end of life, it was all through it. We’re always dying, and sometimes, being born again, he thought. It was the anticipation of that final loss that made life so precious, and made love and friendship so tender, so worthwhile. As Jack Dalton had once told him in a rare moment of seriousness, “We’re all dying, Mac. Some of us are just doing it faster than others.” Maybe he had been too afraid, had let fear of death get under his skin to the point that he had begun to be afraid to love, too. Though he hadn’t told anyone, or even been that aware of it at the time, when he had adopted Stacey, he had done so with the deep underlying fear that she would die before he did. He realized that that had been part of his overprotectiveness of her. True, there had been a legitimate concern of that crazy militia coming back and tracking her down, but what he really feared was that she would walk out the door one day, on her way to work or wherever, and late that night, a police officer would come knocking on the door, telling him that she was dead.
Now that Mac had been able to name his fear, he realized how absurd it was. He also realized where it came from: that dark, rainy night so many years ago when his father and grandmother had died in a car accident. Mac had only been ten at the time, but the pain had stayed with him all these years, just beneath the surface. The death of his friend Jesse still haunted him, too. And those deaths, it seemed had been just the beginning. He had lost so many people over the years, and sometimes the combined weight of those losses made him feel far older than he was. But now, heading for the beach in the cold wind, Mac also realized that this fear didn’t have to haunt him this much. He remembered something someone… he couldn’t remember who, now… had told him a long time ago: If you let yourself be afraid of dying, you’ll just end up being afraid of living. He was tired of living in fear. It was time to start living in faith instead: faith that those he loved wouldn’t be taken before their time. Faith that death was not the end. Mac didn’t think he believed in heaven or hell, but he had found out so many years before that death was, indeed, just another step along the way. It was time to start living in faith that Stacey would be all right, and would survive, and thrive, and outlive him. It was time to start living in faith that Sam would take care of himself, and would live to be an old man. It was time to start living in faith that Pete Thornton would know how much he meant to Mac before he died. And it was time to start living in faith that he, Angus MacGyver, would be all right, too, and would survive, with the love of his children and his friends to sustain him, whatever life brought his way.
Mac felt a smile cross his face, and his heart suddenly felt lighter, as though nearly forty years of guilt and pain and fear had been lifted from him. It would be a challenge to live in faith… fear was much easier. But he was ready for it. And with Stacey around… well, maybe it wouldn’t be as tough as he thought.