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A knock at the door startled Mac, and he nearly dropped the wrench he was using on the old bike he kept in the living room for tinkering. Ever since Murdoc's lackeys had kidnapped him from the house, he'd been wary of unexpected visitors.
There was another knock, so Mac slid out from under the bike and adjusted his grip on the wrench to use it as a weapon if necessary. While internally debating the merits of adding cameras at the end of the driveway and the front door for his newly installed security system, Mac cautiously opened the door to find a teenage boy with blond hair shifting nervously from foot to foot.
"Hello," Mac greeted warily. "Can I help you?"
"I'm looking for James MacGyver," the kid replied, craning his neck to try and see around Mac as if James was standing just out of sight.
"Join the club," Mac muttered.
"Huh?"
Mac cleared his throat and raised his voice. "He doesn't live here. Why would you think-"
"This house used to be Harry MacGyver's, right? Now, it belongs to an Angus MacGyver. Is that you?"
The hairs on the back of Mac's neck stood up. While it was public record that he had inherited the house from Harry, it was not a search that most people would do. On the other hand, this kid was looking for James, and Mac knew first-hand how difficult that was. "Who's asking?"
The teen huffed an annoyed sigh and stuck his hand out. "I'm Sam. James is my father."
Mac's eyebrows shot up, and he dropped the wrench he'd forgotten that he was holding. It bounced off his bare toe painfully, and he cursed as he hopped on one foot and clutched the throbbing toe with both hands.
"Are you okay?" Sam asked, stepping forward to grab Mac's arm so that he didn't topple over.
"Yeah." Mac gingerly put his foot down and limped away. Sam's hand fell from his arm, and the teen stood in the doorway, unsure of what to do. "You can come in," Mac called over his shoulder as he dug an icepack out of the freezer.
Sam's eyes didn't stop moving as he took in the clutter of Mac's house. It would have been funny if Mac wasn't still reeling from Sam's declaration. Mac sat down on one stool at the kitchen counter and brought his foot up onto the stool beside it so he could put the icepack over his surely broken toe.
"Are you Angus MacGyver?" Sam asked when he'd gotten his fill of looking at Mac's house.
He nodded and said, "Call me Mac."
"Are you James' brother?" Sam ventured a guess.
Mac was relieved to know that the Phoenix security measures were working if Sam hadn't been able to find out more than the fact that Mac owned the house. Internally, he debated the best way to answer Sam's question and finally decided that straightforward was best. "No, I'm his son."
Sam took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "I was afraid of that."
To be honest, Mac had wondered for years if James had another family out there somewhere. He'd never gone looking because he hadn't really wanted to know that his father had written him off and started again.
Sam shoved his hands in his pockets and averted his eyes. He moved into the living room and picked up a framed photograph of James and a seven-year-old Mac rebuilding the toolshed that Mac had accidentally burned down.
James' genetics were just as evident in Sam as in Mac. Their face shape, nose, blond hair, and general body type were all similar. Of course, there were also differences; Sam's eyes were hazel, his cheekbones were more prominent, and he lacked Mac's cleft chin.
"How, uh, how old are you?" Mac couldn't help but ask.
"Sixteen." Sam put the photo down and picked up one of James, Harry, and a six-year-old Mac on the back deck long before there was a fire pit. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-seven."
James had left a little over seventeen years ago, meaning that he either met someone soon after leaving Mac in Harry's care, or he already had someone before he walked away from his oldest son. Neither options were great, and Mac felt ill at the thought of his father having a secret family.
Sam set the second photo down and looked over at Mac. "So, where can I find James?"
"I haven't seen him since my tenth birthday," Mac replied with a shrug. "I've been looking for him for the last year but haven't found any good leads."
"Seriously?" Sam dropped down into the armchair and scrubbed his hands over his face. "This sucks."
"When did you last see him?" Mac asked hesitantly.
"Couple years ago," Sam replied without looking over at Mac. "My mom lost her job, and I have this thing, and... you don't need to know any of this. I was just hoping you'd know where he was. He just up and left one day and didn't come back."
Mac listened intently to Sam, partly curious and partly wanting to find a way to help this kid who'd just popped into his life. While he listened, he pulled the icepack away and checked on his toe. It was already bruising and hurt like hell when he wiggled it. He gently put the icepack back in place.
Abruptly, the front door swung open, startling both Mac and Sam. Jack stepped inside and jerked his thumb toward the driveway. "Whose rust bucket is in your driveway?"
Mac gave Sam an apologetic smile. "Jack, this is Sam. Sam, this is my friend Jack."
"Pleasure," Jack said, nodding at Sam before turning to Mac. He moved closer, nudged Mac's hand aside, and picked up the icepack. "What happened to you?"
"Dropped a wrench on it." Mac smacked Jack's hands away from his foot. "It's okay."
"It doesn't look okay, bud."
Sam stood, drawing both of their gazes, and headed for the door. "I should go. It was nice to meet you, Mac, Jack."
"Wait," Mac called, standing and limping after Sam. "Don't leave. This is all... This is a shock, but I don't want you to leave."
Sam turned and looked nervously from Mac to Jack and back to Mac. "I didn't mean to dump this on you. I really thought you were going to be an old guy who happened to be my uncle, especially when I couldn't find any info about you online, but you're not, and I just... I should go."
"What's going on?" Jack asked from where he was still standing in the kitchen.
Mac made a 'be with you in a minute' motion at Jack while pulling his phone out of his pocket with his other hand. "Let's at least exchange phone numbers."
Sam bit his lip and glanced at Jack once more. Mac didn't know what face Jack was making, but it made Sam nervous, so he assumed it was the 'don't fuck with Mac' glare. "Okay, sure." He rattled off the digits, and Mac texted him so that Sam would have his number too.
Mac and Sam stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say next. Finally, Mac gave his phone a shake. "I'll text you. Maybe we can get lunch sometime?"
Sam nodded and hurried out the door. After a beat, Mac turned on his heel, went to the fridge, and pulled out a beer.
"What just happened?" Jack asked. "Who was that kid?"
Mac drained the beer, set the bottle aside, and took a deep breath. "Funny story. James has another son."
"That kid is your-" Jack cut himself off when he saw the agitated look on Mac's face.
Mac was angry and upset. James had walked out on another family, and it was maddening. While Mac had spent many years trying to figure out why James had left him in the care of his grandfather and later the Bozers, he had always assumed there had been a good reason. James was on the run from the law or the mob. He was in witness protection. He had turned into the Hulk from a lab experiment gone wrong. Mac's imagination had run wild as a child.
On his darker days, he'd thought it was his fault. He hadn't been smart enough or good enough or quiet enough. His science experiments sometimes got out of hand, and James' tool shed burned down or Mac's jungle gym melted. One memorable night, Mac had needed stitches and overnight observation at the hospital after falling off the roof into some shrubs because he'd wanted to see a comet, and James had told him to go straight to bed. His telescope had fared worse in that fall.
Then, around his fourteenth birthday, he'd started to think that James had died. It wasn't anyone's fault. Everything was just a misunderstanding or an accident.
"Mac?" Jack snapped his fingers in front of Mac's face, and Mac jerked back like he'd been punched.
"Yeah?"
Jack was wearing his frown of displeasure that something had upset Mac. "What do you want to do about this Sam thing?"
Mac met his gaze and squared his shoulders. "We need to find James. Something's wrong, and Sam needs help."
"You've been looking for a year," Jack reminded him gently. "And how do you know this kid is who he says he is?"
"Why would he lie about this?"
"I don't know, hoss, but it's definitely worth checking out before you go getting involved in anything."
Mac couldn't really argue with that. He grabbed himself another beer and also got one for Jack. "I think it's time we bring Riley in on this. She can vet Sam's story, and if it checks out, I'll ask her to see what she can find on James."
"Are you sure about that?"
Mac had been adamant that Riley not waste any of her time on his personal project of looking for his father. Finding James had worse odds than winning on a slot machine in Vegas, so he'd mostly kept her out of it until now.
"Yes. If anyone can find him, it'll be Riley."
Jack studied him for a moment before giving one quick nod and taking a long pull from his beer. "Okay. Let's do it."
"I'll call her; see if she can come over. Bozer is working late in the lab, so do you want to order some pizzas? This could be a late night."
Jack reached out to pat Mac on the shoulder and then pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket. "I'm on it."