Brothers Fathers and Sons
Author's Notes: This story is a part of my The Sentinel/MacGyver series, set in time after Follow the Tiger and before The Promise of Christmas Future (ie, Cory's in it, but not Ian). Since the relationships between Blair, MacGyver, and Sam are drawn in the first five stories (The Maze, Control, Coatlicue, Ares Bugle, and Heirs to a Nightmare), you may wish to read them first. If you are the impatient sort, I do have an overview to the first five, but it is with my Mag 7 version of Synchronization in Chaos on Lady Angel's site
I would also recommend reading the others of the series, especially Follow the Tiger, which introduces Cory. References to Charming the Hawk are also made, and Amanda Chambers was introduced in my The Cascade Virtual Tales episode, Mishaps with Dinner.
This story takes place in the fall of 2001, several weeks after 9-11.
As always, I wish to thank several people. Zadra, my sanity and character check; Shallan, my military advisor who's helped me a lot with Cory's father; Sealie, who's always pushing me to write; my betas Melanie, Robin, and Lori; and as always to wolfpup who does the posting so I can focus on writing. And I am deeply grateful to all the wonderful people who continue to email me about my stories. I appreciate hearing from you.
Please send any comments to spacecloud@juno.com
Enjoy the ride.
Disclaimer: Most of characters are not mine. I'm borrowing them out of deep reverence, affection and respect. I will accept only personal fulfillment, and no monetary gain. If you do sue, you will not get much and I will send over my Black Lab mix, who will stare at you pathetically for hours and probably con you out of all your food.
Please do not reproduce, copy, or otherwise use any part of this story without permission from the author.
Rated PG-13, mostly for language
BROTHERS, FATHERS AND SONS
C.L. Combs
Administrative Leave. They were forcing him to take administrative leave.
Yes, America was attacked. Yes, he was in the Pentagon when it happened. And yes, he burned his hands. He was healing and could handle going back to work. He didn't need time off to think about what happened. What was there to think about? His country was hit and it was his job to protect her, to make plans that minimized the danger to his people protecting her. It was as simple as that.
As far as 'working things out', he had thought enough when it was happening. When faced with never seeing his family again, he had thought about what that would mean. It hadn't taken very long to go over the balance sheet of his life.
For his wife Patty, he had regretted that they hadn't taken the trip to New England to go antiquing like she had dreamed about. Perhaps now they could, before the upcoming war heated up. But she knew he loved her; he made sure of that. It was a lesson he had learned a long time ago with another woman.
When he thought about his sweet daughter Missy, he was thankful he had seen her grow into a beautiful, self-sufficient woman. He had only regretted that he wouldn't be able to walk her down the aisle when she met the right man. Now, he still hoped he would one day.
Then there was his youngest boy. He wouldn't have picked a Navy career for a son, but Mark seemed to thrive at sea. The two of them had made peace a long time ago over the decision. Mark would do fine.
Of course, his pride and joy was Russell, his and Patty's first boy. A Ranger, Russ was part of the Army's best and brightest, the elite. The young man showed every indication of going fast and far in his career, just like the old man.
However, he did have a few major regrets. They were centered on his eldest son, his and Jinah's son.
He had always been at odds with Cory. He had had more fights with the boy than the other three put together. Cory had been the one to refuse to play football, insisting on all the martial arts mumbo jumbo. He had been the one to hack into his top security system at work, catching the attention of the DXS. He had been the one to run away, disappearing into the Wyoming wilderness for almost a month. He had been the one to refuse to follow the family tradition of military careers, joining that pansy spy organization. Only his friend Bill ever seemed to be able to figure the boy out.
Cory had also been the one he had almost lost last summer. Nothing thrown at him September 11th had been as bad as seeing his boy in a hospital bed, severely injured and developing mental problems. He had never felt so helpless as he had staring into his son's pale face.
Yet in typical Cory fashion, he couldn't stay near family and specialists while he recovered. No, Cory had first taken off for Wyoming, then California. Who knew what craziness the boy was involved in, living in the land of fruit and nuts? He feared finding out what had become of him.
However, he was Jinah's son. His last tie to the woman whose very name still had the power to tug at his heart. He didn't want to lose him, but Cory had yet to give up and admit that he had screwed up his life.
Perhaps he should pay his eldest a visit. After all, the Army had given him the time off. He only needed the plane ticket.
It was time for General Thomas Buchanan to finish balancing his books. He had to see if he could straighten out his black sheep before he headed into war.
Two days later, San Francisco airport
Cory Buchanan was typing away at his laptop, trying to organize the information he and Sam had collected on their visits to various U.S. airports. The Phoenix Foundation had been asked to consult on how to make them safer amidst the new threats and swiftly changing rules. Considering recent events, Cory wanted the report on Nikki's desk as soon as possible. He took a sip from his Starbuck's cup as he typed.
Of course, the task would have been a lot easier if Sam had been helping. Cory secretively shot another glance at his partner. The other man was simply staring out into space. While Sam wasn't a constant talker, the silence was wearing thin. The other man had been pre-occupied since they had chased down the possible terrorists yesterday. Even after a couple of nudges from Cory, Sam still hadn't told him why. His gut tightened. Cory feared he knew why.
For the past few months, the two men had been constantly together. Sam had been there for him like no one else ever had. He was there through Cory's knee surgery and the long recovery process. They had stood by each other during the events of 9-11, each worried about their father's whereabouts. With Cory's knee nearly back up to speed, they had been traveling the country gathering data for Phoenix. Even more importantly, Sam had been aiding the new sentinel in handling his senses. Cory loved the amazing things he could do with his newly discovered talents. Taking another sip of coffee, he enjoyed the rich flavors flowing over his tongue. He couldn't have asked for a better guide to help him function. Overall, Cory was thriving with his new job, his enhanced senses, and especially his new partner and friend.
Then yesterday Cory had seen Sam staring at the cover of a news magazine. Realization had hit him hard. A year ago, Sam would have been overseas, one of the photojournalists tracking down stories in the aftermath of the tragedy. It was something Sam was, by all accounts, extremely good at. Yet instead of photographing the world, Sam was now stuck guiding a sentinel. His friend had given up his dream job just to enter a new life with Cory. Was Sam now regretting that decision? Did Cory have the right to hold him back?
The speakers boomed the announcement for boarding. Sighing to himself, Cory shut down his laptop. Noting that Sam hadn't moved, he kicked him in the foot as he slipped the computer into its bag. Sam jerked, then glared at him.
"Time to go," Cory explained as he stood up. He was looking around while pulling the strap of his bag over his shoulder when it happened. A spike of brilliant light from the windows shot through his eyes and str
aight into his skull. The surrounding perfumes, food, and body odor flooded his nose. The sounds of hundreds of footsteps thundered into his ears, punctuated by the conversations around him. Cory doubled over in agony.
A few moments later, the flood pulled back. "Cory? Cory! What is it?" an urgent whisper begged.
Rubbing his brow as a headache appeared, Cory straightened up to look into his partner's worried face. "I don't know. Everything spiked."
Sam continued to stare at him worriedly. "Do you need to lie down? We can try for another flight."
Cory shook his head, in spite of the jabs of pain behind his eyes. "It's over now. I just want to go home." Ignoring Sam's unconvinced eyes, he pulled the strap back over his shoulder and walked resolutely towards the gate.
Two hours later
Cory sank gratefully into the passenger's seat of Sam's Subaru. The headache that had started in San Francisco had grown into a monster during the flight to L.A. It had been a struggle to remain coherent enough to disembark and pick up their luggage. Now his stomach was joining in, churning with nausea. All Cory wanted was to get to the firehouse and sink face first into his bed.
Thankfully, Sam was familiar with his bad headaches. With only a few worried glances, he had carried both their bags to the car. Once he had tucked them away in the back, he slipped into the driver's seat. After a penetrating look at his partner, Sam wordlessly handed him an empty MacDonald's cup from the back seat and started the engine. Cory smiled to himself. No use for him to throw up all over the car. Closing his eyes, he simply endured the drive to the firehouse.
Pulling up in front, Sam gently nudged him. "I'll park the car. Think you can get inside?"
"Yeah," Cory softly replied. Moving out of the car nearly tipped the uneasy balance between his head and stomach, but he managed to get to the door without losing his breakfast. Fumbling slightly with the keys, he clicked open the lock and stepped inside. He attempted to drop the keys onto the small table at the entryway, not noticing when they hit the floor or that the door didn't latch behind him. The only thing on his mind was to climb the stairs to the bathroom.
"What in Hell is this?"
Cory stopped in his tracks. Praying he was hallucinating, he slowly turned to find his father entering behind him. He looked all too real. "Dad?"
The General looked at him suspiciously. "What are you, drunk at THIS time of day? Or are you on some illicit drug?"
The booming voice was like a ball slamming into his skull. Doing his best not to flinch, Cory replied, "I'm not drunk."
The soft words were lost in the maelstrom of temper. "I knew you were in trouble, but drugs! I thought I taught you better than that."
"Dad," Cory whispered, silently pleading for an end to the torture.
"Look at the mess you've made of your life! I can't believe that a son of mine would behave in such a disgusting fashion..."
The angry words Cory no longer had the ability to fight washed over him, increasing the pounding in his head. His enhanced hearing merged with his enhanced touch, feeding each other into overwhelming pain. Next thing he knew, he was on his knees throwing up on the carpet.
Sam pulled his car into its spot behind the firehouse. He knew when Cory looked that white, he was having one of his excruciating headaches. Deciding to leave the bags in the car for now, Sam trotted up the walk to the back door. Cory hadn't had a bad one for almost two weeks. Was it due to his partner's still recovering head, or to the sensory spike he had at the airport? Considering that Cory had seemed fine until the spike, Sam suspected that was the cause.
So the question was, why did he have the spike? Sam mentally kicked himself. He had been lost in his own morbid thoughts at the airport and had no idea what triggered the attack. Now Cory was paying the price for Sam's attention lapse. Quickly, Sam ran down the list of new meds the doctor had prescribed and the holistic remedies Blair had suggested. Too bad nothing had worked so far except for poor Cory riding out the pain in a dark and quiet environment.
As he climbed the stairs from the garage to the living quarters, Sam heard an unfamiliar voice shouting. Confused and worried, Sam dashed through the kitchen and into the entryway. There was a huge man yelling at Cory, who had dropped to his knees. A surge of anger roared through Sam when he spied Cory's bleached-white face. Instantly, he was standing between the man and his downed partner. "Shut up!"
"Shut up?" the man repeated. "Who the hell are you to tell me to shut up?"
"I live here. And keep your voice down."
The man crossed his arms, making no effort to keep quiet. "I will speak to my son any way I please."
Sam blinked, stunned for a moment. "You're Cory's dad?" Swiftly, he sized up the graying redhead, noting he had to be at least a couple of inches taller than Cory's 6 foot, but that they had the same husky build. Sam thought he detected some similarity about the eyes, though the man's were blue-green compared to Cory's dark brown.
He was also still red in the face from anger. "Yes, and I'm speaking to my son."
Hearing Cory retching behind him firmed up Sam's resolve. "You can talk to him later, once you've cooled off and he's feeling better."
The man puffed up in anger. "I am not going anywhere."
"Yes, you are," Sam replied coldly. If any of his family had been there, they could have warned the general that Sam was not to be pushed when he used that tone of voice.
However, Thomas' own temper was already fully ignited. "Who the hell are you to tell ME when I can speak with my son?"
Sam took a step forward, hoping the man would take a hint. "I'm Cory's partner and this is my home. And you are leaving now."
"I am going nowhere--"
Noticing that the front door was still open, Sam took another step forward. "I said leave." With a spin, Sam hooked a foot on the man's leg, nearly toppling him. While the general was off-balanced, he pushed him through the door. Sam then slammed the door in the man's face and locked it. Forcing his anger down, he turned to Cory.
Cory was still on his knees, holding his head with shaky hands. Sam walked over. "Cory?"
"Hurt."
"Hearing?"
"Yeah. Better with you here."
Sam gently squeezed his friend's arm in acknowledgement. "Come on, buddy, let's get you into bed."
An agonizing whisper asked, "Did you just kick my Dad out?"
"Yep," Sam replied with no regret in his voice. He helped Cory to his feet.
"Oh boy," Cory whispered as Sam lead him to the stairs.
An hour later, Phoenix Foundation
Mac raced to catch the elevator, making it just in time to keep the doors from closing. Pushing the button for Nikki's floor, he smiled at the young woman with the mail cart. Then he focused on his breathing, wondering why Nikki wanted him so urgently.
His first thought was his sons. Blair and his partner, Jim, were scheduled to bring a prisoner from Cascade to L.A. that day. His son had downplayed the task, saying Jim was calling it a 'milk run'. However, Mac knew how easy assignments had a way of going bad.
His other son Sam and his partner Cory were also due in from San Francisco. They were on a typical, data-gathering assignment for Phoenix. But just to show that Murphy was still alive and kicking, the pair had caught a suspected terrorist the day before. Mac smirked to himself. Leave it to Sam to recognize a man listed on the 'to be questioned' list, and Cory to track him through a cemetery. But outside of anything unexpected, he doubted they should run into any more trouble. Of course, with his family the unexpected was to be expected.
On the other hand, Nikki's SOS may not have anything to do with his sons. During the previous few weeks, the world and especially life in the USA had become more uncertain and dangerous. Five nights spent sleeping on the hard church pew in Nova Scotia when the airlines had shut down emphasized how close Mac had come to being on one of the planes that had crashed on 9-11.
Exiting the elevator, Mac could hear the loud voice from the reception desk. He gave Nikki'
s assistant Natalie a weak smile when she waved him to go on in. Apparently, Nikki needed help with a bear. Mac quietly opened the door to slip in, hopefully unnoticed.
It wasn't going to be that easy. The huge redhead stopped talking when Mac entered. "Who are you?"
"Name's MacGyver," Mac replied easily, holding out his hand.
"MacGyver recruited your son for Phoenix," Nikki explained as the man warily took his hand in a firm shake. "Mac helps supervise our computer division."
Mac shot Nikki a look as he felt the bulls-eye being painted on his back. "Glad to meet you, Mr....?"
"General Thomas Buchanan."
Mac's eyes briefly widened. "You must be Cory's Dad." While Cory had often spoken fondly of his brothers and sister, and even occasionally mentioned his stepmom, he rarely spoke of his father. Mac had a bad feeling he was about to discover why.
"General Buchanan was just telling me that he feels it's a mistake for Cory to be in California," Nikki explained.
Mac kept his face neutral. "I don't understand, sir. Your son has been doing an excellent job for us."
"I don't see how that can be, considering he was stoned only an hour ago!"
Lifting an eyebrow, Mac replied, "Stoned? That doesn't sound like Cory, and he was scheduled to fly in from San Francisco this morning." Several possibilities swirled in MacGyver's mind as he talked. A problem with Cory's senses or one of his bad migraines popped to the top as likely candidates. Drugs or alcohol was low on the list, considering how careful the young man had been since the re-activation of his sentinel abilities.
"He was unsteady on his feet when he finally showed up at his residence this morning, though the term hardly fits, considering it's a firehouse. His doctors in D.C. felt he should have undergone a psych evaluation, and I fear they were right."
Mac met his eyes. "Cory's mental health is fine. But as you know, he suffered a severe concussion last summer and that type of injury can take a while to heal. My guess is that he had one of his migraines this morning."