Brothers Fathers and Sons Page 2

  The General only humphed at the explanation. "And let me guess, only his 'partner' can help him with it. Who knows what kind of drugs that little creep's been feeding my son?"

  Confused, Mac looked at Nikki. She was struggling to keep her face blank. "Apparently, Sam and the General didn't hit it off." Mac's frown deepened. Sam usually could get along with just about anybody.

  "That weirdo physically kicked me out of my son's home!" the general roared. "I have half a mind to bring the little creep up on charges."

  "Sam did what?" Mac again looked at Nikki for confirmation. She shrugged.

  "That little creep shoved me out and locked the door in my face," Buchanan bellowed.

  Mac straightened, his own anger beginning to rise. "General, Sam would only take such extreme measures if he felt they were warranted."

  "And exactly how well do you know this 'Sam'?" the general sneered. "If he's an example of who you hire here, I've no doubt my son's a model employee by comparison."

  "Sam's my son." MacGyver's voice turned silky, cutting through the general's tirade with ease. "That was my home you visited this morning, neither of our boys take drugs unless prescribed by a doctor, and if Sam kicked you out, then I will stand by him."

  Buchanan stared at him in shock. "Your son?"

  "My son." Mac crossed his arms and stared at the man before him. "If you like, I'll see about arranging a time for you and Cory to get together. But it will be on Cory's terms."

  "I want to see my son."

  "And you will. Just not now."

  Growling under his breath, Buchanan stormed out of the office. Nikki and Mac traded looks. "What do you think happened?" Nikki asked.

  "Sam must have felt the general was a threat to Cory." Mac rubbed a hand over his face. "My guess is that either his senses were out of control or he was fighting one of his migraines."

  Nikki sighed. "This isn't good. Does Cory's father know about his senses?"

  Mac shook his head. "I've kinda gotten the impression things are strained between Cory and his father."

  "As Sam would say, 'Duh'," Nikki replied with a smile. "If he said even half of the things to Sam that he said to me, I'm not surprised he got mad. I just can't believe he tossed him out. The man must have at least three inches on Sam and forty pounds."

  Mac shrugged. "Never underestimate what Sam can do if he sets his mind to it." He looked at his friend. "You're not going to reprimand him, are you?"

  Nikki laughed. "No, I was thinking about giving him a raise, since he handled General Buchanan so well." She sobered. "I just don't get it. Cory's a sweetheart. How could his own father believe those kind of things about him?"

  Mac could only shake his head. "Just reminds me how lucky I am to have such good relationships with my boys."

  Police precinct

  Jim finished signing the form and handed it to the assistant D.A. Ms. Taylor glanced over it. "Thank you, Detective Ellison. Mr. Walker's testimony will sew up our case nicely."

  "The Cascade P.D. is happy to help out." Jim shook the woman's hand. "Any idea how long the trial will take?"

  Taylor shrugged. "We're hoping it should be done in a week."

  "Are you and your partner heading back to Cascade this afternoon?" Lieutenant Steve Sloan asked the visitor.

  Jim smiled as he shook his head. "We're hanging around until Walker's ready to go back."

  "Do you have a place to stay?" Ms. Taylor asked.

  "I can give you some recommendations," Steve added.

  "We're set. Sandburg's dad lives here in L.A. and he's putting us up."

  "Good." Taylor nodded, satisfied. "Just leave the front desk a number where you can be reached, and I'll have my secretary call you when Walker is ready."

  With a final shake of hands, Sloan led Jim into the main lobby. "Do you and Sandburg have plans for the week?"

  Jim chuckled. "A couple of ideas, but we're mostly playing it by ear. A lot depends on how much time Sandburg's dad or brother can take off work."

  "And how much time your English lady can make for you during her business trip," Blair added as he joined them.

  Steve smiled as he caught the slight reddening of the fellow detective's cheeks. "Well, if you like to surf, there's a private beach outside my dad's house if you're interested. Or if you need anything else while you're here, give me a call." He handed the two men a business card.

  "Thanks, Steve." Blair shook his hand. "You've been a big help."

  "Professional courtesy," Steve returned with a smile.

  "We appreciate it," Jim replied as he shook his hand.

  Once the L.A. detective left, Jim turned to his partner. "Well?"

  Blair smiled, bouncing on his toes in excitement. "Mac wasn't at his desk, so I left him a message. Sam's cell is off, so I'm not sure if he's back in town yet. But Mac gave me the code for the firehouse's back door, so I should be able to get us in."

  Jim playfully cuffed his partner's head. "Then let's go."

  An hour later, the partners were outside the firehouse. As Blair pulled the blue Taurus next to Sam's Subaru, Jim stared at the building. "It really is an old firehouse."

  Blair shot him a puzzled look. "That's what Mac said it was."

  "I thought he was just joking."

  Blair laughed hard as he turned off the key. "Man, Jim, you know Mac. Can you imagine him joking about something like this?"

  "But an honest-to-god firehouse?"

  "Well, look at it this way -- If Mac blows something up in the work shop, there should still be some fire pumps in there."

  Chuckling, Jim climbed out of the Ford.

  Sam read over his report, half listening for any sign of life from his partner's room. After making sure Cory was safely sprawled across his bed earlier, Sam had cleaned the carpet, retrieved their bags and made sure the firehouse was secured. Then he struggled with his report for Nikki.

  Normally, writing came easily to Sam. Yet this afternoon, his mind was drifting into too many directions. If he wasn't dwelling on the discovery he'd made in San Francisco, he was wondering what had happened to his partner. He had never seen Cory go downhill so fast and it scared him. Whatever made him think he could guide a sentinel as well as his brother? He was hoping his dad came home from work early, so he could talk with him. He really needed the sounding board.

  Thoughts of Mac led to thoughts of Cory's dad. Sam couldn't believe the man could be so blind to the misery his son had been in. MacGyver would have never acted that way with him or Blair, and Mac hadn't known them all their life like General Buchanan had Cory. He was beginning to understand why his friend would run away into the Wyoming wilderness for nearly a month rather than return home.

  The sound of the garage door rising caught his attention. Suspicious, Sam stood up and walked over to where the firemen's pole stretched down into the garage below.

  "Wow, look at the space in here."

  "Your dad could park a semi if he wanted to."

  Smiling as he recognized his brother's and Jim's voices, Sam grabbed hold of the pole and slid to the floor below.

  "Sam!" Blair greeted him. "Man, that looks like fun."

  "You'll have to try it while you're here," Sam replied with a grin, walking into his brother's embrace. The confident arms felt good.

  Blair pulled back, frowning. "Are you okay?"

  Sam shrugged as he glanced upward. "Yeah, I'm okay." He turned to offer his hand to Jim. "I didn't know you guys were coming in today."

  "Trial's starting early," Jim replied, studying him. "Everything okay with Cory?"

  Sam sighed. So much for the misdirection tactics. "Cory had a sensory spike this morning and ended up with one of his really bad headaches."

  Blair's frown deepened. "I thought you said he hadn't had one of those in a while."

  "He hasn't. I'm not sure what happened."

  "Was he exposed to something new? Drink or eat anything different?"

  Sam shook his head. "Nothing that I could tell, but we were at an airport. Who knows what kind of new stuff was floating past us."

  "What did Cory say?" Blair asked.

  "We haven't discussed it yet."

  Blair's voice gained a scolding tone. "You guys have to talk about that kind of thing, Sam. It's the only way you're going to be able to deal with it."

  "I know!" Sam then forced himself to stop, not wanting to yell at his brother he so rarely saw.

  "Back off, Chief." Jim gently laid a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Cory around?"

  "He's still in his bedroom, hopefully sleeping. You guys just don't understand how hard those headaches hit him. He went from fine to green during the time it took to board the plane in San Francisco and land at LAX. He gets so white and shaky, it scares me."

  Blair tilted his head. "So it hit just before you boarded?"

  "Yeah. I asked if he wanted to try for another flight, but he said he just wanted to get home. We've been on the road for the past three weeks, and I think it's easier for him to deal in his own bed instead of someplace strange."

  "So when you got here, he was in no shape to talk," Jim supplied softly. He knew how comforting his own home felt when his senses went out of control.

  Sam nodded. "Then his father didn't help."

  "His father?" Blair asked, confused. "What does his father have to do with this?"

  "Apparently, the general was waiting for him when Cory opened the front door. By the time I got inside, the bastard was yelling at him while Cory was on his knees throwing up."

  Jim blinked. "I thought his dad lived in D.C.?"

  "He does. I have no idea where he came from and Cory was way too sick to deal with him. I shoved him out the door and locked it."

  Blair's eyes bugged out. "You kicked Cory's dad out? Are you kidding
?"

  Sam shrugged as he crossed his arms. "Nope. And I'll do it again, too. I can't believe he'd treat Cory like that."

  "You really kicked his dad out?" Blair still couldn't picture his mellow brother kicking out a friend's father.

  Jim cuffed Blair on the head. "Not everyone has a nice dad like you do, Chief. And from what little he and the Nighthawks have said, there's a lot of baggage between Cory and his father."

  Sam sighed. "Yeah, Cory almost never mentions him, though he calls his sister at least once a week."

  "Maybe that's why Cory had the spike," Blair thought out loud.

  "No, Cory was hurting long before we got back," Sam pointed out. "His father just finished him off."

  Deciding they had had enough serious discussion for now, Jim wrapped his hands around Blair's and Sam's necks and squeezed. "How about we table this until later? I could use a drink, and I'd like to see what your dad's done to the place."

  Sam returned a weak smile. "No problem."

  The Sheridan

  Thomas Buchanan studied the pages his contacts had faxed him. He could only shake his head when he read that Cory's new roommate had been a photojournalist up until that summer. Of course the creep would have been one of the news vultures. The mention of the young man's good reputation in the field didn't impress the general in the slightest.

  However, the father's resume was much more interesting. He was surprised to learn that MacGyver had been on the bomb squad in 'Nam; he had figured the man would have been one of those peace-loving, hippie types. Of course, anyone who dealt with live bombs usually had a screw loose.

  Then the general read the information that MacGyver had been with the DXS for several years. That would explain why Cory would catch his attention. The international group had been sniffing around his son since the hack job in Arizona. He was sure if he dug deep enough he'd find a connection between Cory's former boss, Craig Bannister, and his new boss, A. MacGyver. Unfortunately, most of the man's work was still classified.

  During the past decade, MacGyver's activities were more open. The general could only shake his head at the variety of investigations and causes the man had worked for. Definitely had the markings of a left-wing liberal. Yet there was a scattering of police and other reports that hinted at a more complex man.

  Unfortunately, the reports couldn't answer his most important questions. Why was his son with these people, and what kind of influence were they on him? He needed to know more than a handful of facts. He needed to know their character.

  Admittedly, he had lost his temper earlier. One of his few failings, and Cory did have a tendency to bring it out of him. He would have to suck up and go back. Not to the young creep, but surely he could talk to the father.

  His new course decided, he straightened his tie and headed for the door.

  The firehouse

  The soft sound of voices washed over him -- had been for a while. Tentatively, Cory opened his eyes. The previous flood of pain had slowed to a trickle. Closing his eyes again, he contemplated whether he wanted to test the balance by standing up. Perhaps he should try another test first.

  Relaxing his mind, he sent his hearing searching outward. It was easy to latch onto Sam's voice. It had become his anchor in his new life, just as Sam himself had. Concentrating for a moment, he recognized Sam's brother and his partner's voices as well. Apparently, Jim and Blair had gotten in early.

  He withdrew his hearing. Once more drifting half asleep, he thought over the scene in the entryway. He wasn't quite sure why his father was visiting -- last he heard, he was still getting treatment for his burnt hands. Unfortunately, the tirade was all too familiar. Cory had often been the focal point for his father's unpredictable temper. While Thomas Buchanan had never been physically abusive, his voice was a well-trained weapon. Cory had learned early how to weather it. In fact, he had often invited it in order to deflect its power from his younger siblings. Even Patty crumbled during the rare times its force was directed at her. The only people who had ever braved the storm for him was Bill and Master Po, until now.

  Sam had not only faced the general, but apparently had won the battle. Of course, that would only make the upcoming war harder, whatever it was. Still, Cory couldn't help but feel a little awed by Sam's defense.

  For Sam, he needed to make the effort to be civil. Gingerly, he sat up from the bed. When his stomach's protest was minimal, he reached for his shirt.

  Jim looked up when Cory entered the kitchen. The younger man had filled out into a healthy weight since last summer, but his face was pale and there were faint circles under his eyes. Jim could understand why Sam was so protective of him in this state.

  Sam, too, had spotted his partner. After a moment of study, he softly called out, "Hey, Cor. Feel like some tea?"

  "Yeah," Cory sat down in the chair Jim had pulled out for him.

  Blair gave him a gentle smile. "Head still hurt?"

  "It's in the background now. I can deal."

  Jim nodded to himself. He knew that place well from when his own senses were bothering him. The key was to maintain the balance that was keeping the pain in the background.

  Sam set the cup of strong, black tea in front of Cory. "Toast?"

  "Nah. Not ready for that yet."

  Still nauseated then. Cory was definitely not out of the woods yet.

  As Sam took his seat, Cory asked, "Did you really kick my dad out this morning? Or did I dream it?"

  An uneasy mix of defiance and sheepishness crossed Sam's face. "Yeah."

  A corner of Cory's mouth lifted. "Thanks."

  More confident, Sam sat back and returned the smile. "You're welcome."

  Blair glanced between them. "You're not mad?"

  Cory ruefully shook his head. "When the general starts yelling, nothing will stop him. The best you can do is deflect him. Usually I can handle it, but not today."

  Sam shrugged. "I knew you couldn't. So when he kept yelling, I had to take action." Cory chuckled. "What?"

  "Sam, PRESIDENTS tremble when my father starts shouting. I can't believe you did it."

  Jim smirked at Sam's puzzled face. "That's our Olsen. Facing down raging bulls is just part of the job, right, Sam?"

  "Why was your father so pissed, though?" Blair asked.

  "Hard to say." Cory took a cautious sip of tea. "I'm not even sure why he's here. But I think he thought I was drunk or on drugs, so that might be part of it."

  "Yeah, I remember him yelling something about drugs," Sam confirmed.

  Blair frowned. "Why would he think that? I know Sam said you were pretty wobbly getting off the plane, but why would he jump to that conclusion?"

  Running his middle finger around the rim of the cup, Cory could only sigh. "I'm his problem child who never does what he tells me to. He simply expects me to be in trouble. Drugs are probably the worst thing he can think of, so of course that's what he thinks I'm doing."

  Jim chuckled. "Obviously doesn't know the MacGyver clan very well. Does Mac keep anything stronger than ibuprofen in the house?"

  Sam shook his head. "Though I keep Excedrin in my bathroom. And there's some of the drugs the doc keeps trying for Cory's head in his room."

  "Anything working?" Jim asked.

  Both Cory and Sam shook their heads. "He's being going through some of the new migraine meds, but nothing seems to work," Sam explained.

  "How about the feverfew I sent you?" Blair asked.

  Cory again shook his head. As Blair opened his mouth, Sam held up a hand, "and I am NOT about to try the drum idea."

  "Drums?" Cory repeated, turning another shade whiter at the thought.

  "It's suppose to help break up the pain," Blair explained.

  Jim glared at him. "It never helped me, either, Chief." He turned back to Cory. "You just have to give it some time, Tiger. It takes a year or more to recover from a serious head injury."

  "We probably should just try to minimize the senses angle," Blair suggested. "Sam said you had a spike this morning. Any idea what triggered it?"

  "No." Cory shrugged as he stared at his tea.

  "What were you doing when it happened?"

  "Boarding for our flight was called. I packed up my laptop, kicked Sam, and stood up."

  "Kicked Sam?" Jim repeated, eyebrow lifted.

  Cory shot his partner a glance. "Sam was in his own little world this morning. He didn't hear the call."