Sam pulled up to his father’s houseboat. He had been on assignment in Europe, and thought he’d drop by to tell Mac about it. He didn’t see MacGyver’s truck anywhere, but as he looked around, a strange car caught his eye. It was a black Ford or Chevy, fairly new, and the driver was coming slowly down the road that led through the marina, as if looking for someone or something.
The young man felt a chill run down his spine. He not only had his father’s ingenuity and love of adventure, he also had his sixth sense about things that weren’t quite right. Something is weird, here, though I can’t figure out how or why. Maybe they’re lost, looking for an address? Is it someone who lives here? No, I don’t think so. I’ve been here often enough that I think I know most of the people and their cars. Well, I’ll ask Dad when he gets in.
“Hey there, stranger!” His father’s deep voice cut through Sam’s thoughts. He looked up to see MacGyver coming down the dock toward him. “How was Italy?”
“Quiet, for a change. No terrorism or wars to report on, just tourist stuff.” Sam pretended to look disappointed. Actually, it had been kind of a relief to have an assignment where he wasn’t ducking bullets.
“Good. You deserve a change of pace.” Mac hugged him, and the two looked at each other for a moment. “You hungry? It’s almost dinnertime.”
“Is it really that late?” Sam checked his watch. Sure enough, it was almost six. “Where have you been? I figured that since this was Saturday, you’d be home all day, puttering with something.”
Mac sighed, and his smile faded. Sam knew instantly that something was up. “Come on in, and I’ll tell you about it. Want something to drink? You must be thirsty as heck.”
“Now that you mention it, I am.” Sam followed Mac into the houseboat, dropping his duffel bag near the couch for the time being. “What is it, Dad? I can tell something’s up, and it doesn’t sound good.”
“You can read me like a book, can’t you? You’re worse than Pete.” MacGyver laughed as he filled two glasses with ice water and came over to the couch, where Sam was sitting. He handed his son one of the glasses. “Let’s have something to drink, and then we’ll think about dinner.”
“I know you so well because I’m just like you. We both know that,” replied Sam as he took a long drink. He set down his glass, now only three-quarters full. “Spill already, Dad. What gives?”
“I’m not even sure where to start. Well, here goes.” MacGyver settled himself in the rocker, and told Sam about the previous night, finding Stacey on the deck, tending to her injuries, hearing her story, and getting her into the safehouse.
“So that’s where she is now, and she has several armed guards there with her. If these militia characters track her down, Sam, they’ll very likely kill her. Part of their plan includes an attack on the Phoenix Foundation.”
Sam was horrified. He had seen and heard a lot in his travels as a photojournalist, but this took the cake. “My God, Dad, that’s awful. Poor girl. I mean, I’ve heard of this kind of thing, but never really paid it much mind. And the Foundation… I can’t imagine where this world would be without it.”
“I know what you mean. The Phoenix Foundation has just started tracking these cuckoos, so Pete and I don’t know much. I mean, Kate Murphy has told us the basics, but talking to Stacey was like taking a master’s course.” He sighed, and the light went out of his hazel eyes, just for a moment. “I feel so bad for Stacey. Losing her parents like that, then…” His voice trailed off. “You know, Sam, there have been very few times in my life when I felt helpless. One of those times was last night, when I saw how bad Stacey had been beaten. She’ll be all right, but she’s got a sprained ankle and a broken elbow, so she’s pretty sore right now, and I hate to say it, fairly helpless at the moment, too. I mean, I was able to do something for her, but… well, I think you know what I mean.” His eyes showed the pain in his heart.
“I sure do, Dad. When I was on an assignment covering that genocide in Rwanda a few years back, I really felt helpless.”
They fell silent for a moment. “Dad,” ventured Sam, “do you think some publicity might help this situation? I mean, if I were to write some articles exposing WAPLA.”
MacGyver stared at his son in disbelief. “Sam, I’m going to have to ask you to leave this one alone. No way.”
“Dad, I’m not scared. I’ve covered wars, for heaven’s sake. I’ll be careful, I promise.”
“Listen to me, Sam. This is not like covering a war. These are people who don’t fight fair. They’re doing their very best to track down Stacey and kill her, not to mention anyone who gets in their way. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if Pete and I are already on their hit list.” His mouth was stern, but his eyes were pleading. “I don’t want you caught in the crossfire.”
Sam opened his mouth to argue some more, but he was startled to see tears come into his father’s eyes. “Sam,” MacGyver’s voice was trembling. “I’ve lost enough people in my life, and I don’t want to see my own son die before I do.” He swallowed hard, and a tear slid down his cheek. He hid his face in his hands, and a sob escaped from deep in his chest.
Sam was speechless. He had never seen his father cry. Walking over to where Mac sat on the couch, Sam put a hand on his shoulder. “All right, Dad. I’ll stay out of this, as much as I can. I may not have a lot of choice though, if my editor gets wind of it, and orders me to do a story. You know how he is.”
Mac knew all too well. Sam’s editor was a former military man, who expected his orders to be carried out, no arguments. His inflexibility had already put Sam in harm’s way more than once.
“Good.” Mac’s voice was still thick, and the tears were still running down his face, but he managed a smile.
“Stacey amazes me. She’s definitely had more than her share of trouble. Now she has these goons chasing her and trying to kill her, and yet she wants to expose them.” He shook his head. “Just wait till you meet her, Sam. You’re going to love her.”
“I like her already.” Sam grinned.
Mac decided not to tell Sam just yet that he was thinking of adopting Stacey once the situation was resolved. This was enough for now.

“Yeah, we scoped it out at MacGyver’s houseboat today. Forget it. Too many people around to pull something off. We didn’t even see Stacey.”
“That’s all right. The backup plan is in motion.”

Over at the safehouse, Stacey had just finished eating with the guards. She looked around at the three men and one woman who sat at the table with her. Rex sat across from her. To her immediate left sat Charlie, a former cop and Special Forces agent. He was slightly smaller than Rex, with dark hair and eyes. Judy sat on the other side of Stacey. She was one of only four women assigned to the safehouse. She wasn’t much bigger than Stacey, maybe five-six or so, and exotically pretty, with short, platinum blond hair and bright violet eyes, but she had the look of a woman who was used to working out. Judy was a former cop, and held an advanced black belt in karate, with some groundfighting expertise thrown in for good measure. Between Judy and Charlie was Benny, a former Navy SEAL and wilderness expert, about MacGyver’s size and build, with light brown hair and green eyes. All of them wore gray military fatigues and combat boots, and their weapons lay within easy reach.
“So, Stacey,” said Judy, “I understand you’re being chased by a bunch of racist redneck assassins with serious military toys.”
“That about sums it up, Judy,” Stacey chuckled. She liked Judy already: the woman was blunt and a smart aleck if ever there was such a thing. “But there’s more to the story than that. These rednecks are trying to pull off a major terrorist attack, which includes designs on the Phoenix Foundation, and mass murder. They’re not a bunch to be trifled with.”
“Yeah, Thornton filled us in,” answered Benny. “How did you get tangled up with them?”
“You mean Pete left out that part?”
“He told me,” said Rex. “I’ll fill you in.” He proceeded to do so, summarizing the situation quite well.
“Damn,” said Charlie. “That’s heavy. Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us this time.” But he grinned at Stacey. “This isn’t much more complicated than the kinds of things we’ve done before. If you want to hear some stories, we’ve got some great ones.”
“I’d love to hear them.” Stacey returned his smile.
“Well, how about now?” asked Judy. “We can tell her after we do the dishes.” She stood up. “Come on, Rex. Let’s get the dishwasher loaded and the kitchen cleaned up, and then we can sit around with Stacey and shoot the quack for awhile.”
“Sounds good to me.” The redheaded man grinned and joined Judy in clearing the table. “Uh-uh,” he chided as Stacey started to help. “You need to rest that elbow. Go sit down with the rest of the gang.” He moved to the freezer, and took out some ice, putting it in a plastic bag. “Here you are, dear. Better keep some ice on those shiners.”
She obeyed, and soon found herself in a friendly argument with Charlie over the Packers vs. the Vikings. Benny sat nearby, listening and backing Stacey once in awhile. Within ten minutes, the dishes were done and Judy and Rex joined them. Then the stories started. Some of them were outrageous, though Stacey suspected they were much embellished. She relaxed and enjoyed the company of these friendly folks who were sworn to protect her life.

Morning came early at the WAPLA compound thirty miles away. At 5:30, both Carl and Ed were up and moving. After a shower, a quick breakfast, and getting their orders from Phil, they set out in jeans and sweatshirts to track down Stacey.
“She’s using an alias, though we’re not sure what it is. Doesn’t matter, though. It’s not like we’re tracking a total stranger.” Ed walked along the road that led to town, with Carl beside him.
“Yeah. If she’s still at that marina, then she’s not as smart as I thought. Maybe we’ll be lucky.”
“Maybe.” They continued along the road toward MacGyver’s neighborhood in silence.

MacGyver was making breakfast. Sam had just gotten up, and was still in the shower. That’s what a fifteen-hour flight will do to you, thought Mac. He knew all too well about long flights: in his days with the Department of External Services, before he met Pete, he’d made plenty of long flights himself. He had enough frequent flier miles racked up that he could travel until he died, if he so chose. But Mac had had enough of the globetrotting lifestyle, and was quite content to stay close to home. He wasn’t as young as he used to be; he’d be forty-nine in a few weeks, and though he was still in good shape, the many injuries he’d suffered in nearly nine years were starting to catch up to him, not to mention some old hockey injuries from when he was in high school and college. He had been very happy when Pete had offered him a new contract that excluded international travel, and limited domestic travel to only the absolutely necessary. Mac had been bored out of his tree after just a few months in Minneapolis, and the move back to Los Angeles from Minnesota to take the new offer had been just what he needed. Mac had more paperwork now, but was still able to do some field assignments now and then, so he wasn’t going completely nuts. And it was nice to be able to spend time with Sam, who had just walked into his life recently.
Sam emerged from the bathroom, dressed, with his hair still wet. He walked over and sat down at the counter. “Mmm, Dad’s famous banana pancakes! I haven’t had these in forever.” He helped himself, and sat down to eat.
“I haven’t made these in quite awhile,” said MacGyver. “When you’re on the road, it’s pretty hard to do. You kind of wind up grabbing what you can, when you can.”
“Been there, done that.” Sam gave his father a sympathetic look. “Nothing like home cooking. What do you do to them, Dad? They’re positively addictive.”
MacGyver gave his son a grin. “My mom used to make these. It was one of her many secret recipes. She was the one who taught me how to cook. Grandpa Harry helped out, too, but he made mostly comfort food and bachelor stuff.”
“I hope Stacey slept OK last night, being in a strange place and all.” Sam got up and went to the refrigerator. “You want more milk?”
His father and shook his head. Sam poured himself a half-glass, then returned the milk to its place.
“She’s been so tired, I wouldn’t be surprised if she slept like a log,” answered MacGyver. “I really hope she doesn’t get sick, having been on the road and under that much stress, for as long as she was.” The food was gone, and he stood up to take his dishes to the sink. “Would you mind dealing with the dishes? I’d like to call over to the safehouse, to see if Stacey’s up and moving yet.”
“Go ahead, Dad. There’s not much here, anyway.” Sam grabbed the sponge, and turned on the water to fill the sink.
MacGyver moved to the phone, and dialed the safehouse number.
Judy answered the phone. “Hey, Mac. Have a good night?”
“Yep, Sam and showed up, and would like to tag along and meet Stacey. Is she awake yet?”
“Just coming out of the bedroom now. The kid slept for almost fourteen hours, Mac.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised. We’ll give her an hour or so, and be over a little after one. That OK?”
“Here, Mac. I’ll let you talk to her.”
“MacGyver?” Stacey’s voice was still sleepy.
“Hi, Stacey. How’d you sleep?”
“Really well. I’m still tired as hell, but I’m catching up.”
“Good. I was just telling Judy that my son is here, and is very anxious to meet you. OK if we stop by a little after one?”
“Sure. I’ll be awake and decent by one.”
“See you then.” They both hung up.

Stacey headed for the bathroom and a shower. She hadn’t had hot water in the WAPLA compound, and when she was on the road, she had to use whatever was handy: ponds, rivers… she’d even stripped naked and taken a shower in a downpour more than once. The things you take for granted, until you don’t have them anymore, she thought. That included her parents. Her sadness over losing them was tearing her up inside, now that she was no longer in immediate danger of being killed herself. Despite her grief, she hadn’t been able to cry for them yet. Stacey found this unsettling, but refused to drive herself crazy over it. Tears come when they come, and you can’t do anything to force them. For just fifteen years old, Stacey was a wise girl. She didn’t know where her insights came from, but had always been the thoughtful, reflective type, pondering things far beyond her years.
She stepped out of the shower, and after drying off, returned to the bedroom to find some clothes. Settling on black stretch pants and an oversized Minnesota Twins jersey, she pulled them on, and decided not to bother with anything more than socks for now. Her sneakers were so worn out, they were ceasing to be comfortable, and anyway, tying her shoes with her injured arm was out of the question. Stacey was broke, but knew she’d have to find some new shoes soon. She put on her sling, straightening her sleeve so it wouldn’t bunch up.
Stacey padded back into the living room, rubbing her eyes. “Still catching up, huh?” asked Judy.
“You can’t even guess. Three months on the road, running constantly, eating less than well, never sleeping for more than maybe five hours at a stretch, and me a person who needs a good eight hours a night to function properly.” A deep yawn escaped the girl.
Judy looked at her with a serious expression. “You’d really better take it easy for awhile, dear. We don’t want you getting sick.”
“I know. MacGyver said the same thing.”
The guard shook her head, grinning. “He’s such a mother hen, but what a great guy. You just can’t find a bigger heart than Mac’s.”
“From what I’ve seen of him, I believe you, though I’d say Pete is an awfully close second.”
“No argument there. I’ve known both of them for almost four years, and they’re about the best two folks I’ve ever run across.”
“How long have you been in security?” Stacey found some Cheerios in the cupboard and milk and fruit in the refrigerator.
She ate breakfast, then talked with Judy until MacGyver knocked on the door. “Hey, it’s us,” he called.
Judy opened the door. “Come on in. Hey, Mac. How’s it going? Sam, how are ya? It’s been way too long.” She shook hands with a dark-haired man in his mid-twenties who bore a very close resemblance to MacGyver.
“Hey, Stacey. How are you?” Mac reached out and squeezed her shoulder.
“After two days of hot showers, clean clothes, and enough food and sleep, I’m starting to feel almost human again.” She smiled.
“I hear ya.” He turned to the young people with him. “This is my son Sam. Sam, Stacey Rick.”
Stacey shook hands with him. “Good to meet you. MacGyver has told me a lot about you.”
“Same here,” answered Sam. “Dad told me everything yesterday. Sounds like you’ve seen enough action in the last three months to last the rest of your life.”
“You got that right.” She looked at Mac.
“I talked to Pete this morning, and he’s had the investigation into your adoption open since yesterday morning, just like he promised. We haven’t got much yet, as it’s the weekend and hard to get folks in, but we’ll hit it hard on Monday. We’re also going to make contact with some folks in Alabama who might be able to tell us more about WAPLA.” Mac paused, wondering how much to tell her. Slowly, he added, “Pete is also looking into your parents’ deaths.”
“You… you think they weren’t accidental?” Stacey sat down on the couch, feeling a sharp lump come into her throat.
“You don’t seem to think so.” Mac sat down beside her, and was watching her closely.
“I guess I didn’t want to admit the possibility, even to myself, although I knew somewhere in the back of my mind that something was weird about both their deaths.” Tears slid down her cheeks for the second time in barely a day. “I just didn’t want to believe that anyone would want to murder my parents. They were wonderful people.” Her voice broke.
Sam reached out to rub her back, gently. MacGyver put an arm around Stacey, and she buried her face in his chest. She felt something give way, deep inside herself, and she cried for her parents, cried harder than she had in her whole life.
Mac held her close, just as he had the previous night, and Sam kept his hands on her shoulder.
Stacey finally cried herself out, and just leaned against the big man, his hand still stroking her hair. “I’ve been crying a lot recently. I guess all that fear is coming out, now that I feel safe,” she said, almost to herself.
“Not surprising. The heart knows when it’s safe, just like the rational mind does.” Mac looked at her. “Don’t be afraid to let it come out, Stacey. You won’t be judged, here.”
Sam nodded his agreement. “You’re the strongest person I’ve met in my life, Stacey,” said Sam. “That is, other than my dad. I’m amazed you’re still in one piece, never mind still sane.”
Stacey let out a long, shaky sigh. “That makes two of us, Sam. With everything I’ve seen in the past two years, I feel like I should be about ninety. I seem to have aged seventy-five years in just two.”
Judy was sitting nearby, watching silently, not wanting to intrude. “Stacey.” All four of them looked up. “Wow. I wouldn’t have believed this if I hadn’t heard it with my own ears. You’re amazing, girl. You must have an awful lot of strength, somewhere. I wish I were that strong.”
MacGyver touched the girl’s shoulder, and she looked up at him. “It’s far from over, Stacey. I’m afraid this roller-coaster is just getting started for you.” His dark eyes held hers. “But you’re not alone. Pete, Sam, and I are all here. Don’t be afraid to call one of us if you need to talk. One of us should be sure to write down all of our phone numbers before we leave. You should at least have Pete’s and my numbers, anyway.”
“Thank you… all of you.” Stacey looked around at the faces of these people who she hardly knew, but was already beginning to trust. “I…I honestly thought I would never find anyone who cared about what had happened to me, much less be willing to help me with not only taking down these bastards, but also help me to start healing, at least a little bit.”
Sam smiled. “You’d be surprised at how good most folks are, Stacey. It’s just the few bad apples out there who tend to ruin it for everyone.”
“Well,” said Mac, “I suppose I should be going, and see what Pete’s turned up, if anything. You can stay here, if you like, Sam. Just make sure to go home a different way than you took to get here."
“We brought you some new games,” Sam told Stacey. “You up for some Scrabble?”
As the two young people settled down to their game, MacGyver headed back down to the garage. A couple months seemed like plenty of time to take down WAPLA, but he knew better. If they didn’t get this investigation going in earnest right away, they’d never catch up… and the results would be devastating.