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When He Wakes... Part Ten, R
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MacsChick
Posted: 11 July 2008 - 09:12 PM                                    
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Phoenix Field Agent
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When He Wakes…
Part Ten
Rated: R

“He won’t remember a thing…he won’t remember a thing…he won’t remember a thing…”

As the voice continued to chant, brief flashes of memory darted rapidly in and out of MacGyver’s mind. One moment, he was being tortured by El Diablo, the next he was strapped to the table where the woman with the syringe was, then he was in the padded room, the padded room switched to the desert, and the next moment he was with Pete or Nikki or Dr. Ladd…the images increased in speed and frequency until they were mere, blurry flickers of light, splotches of color, faces and events blending into each other, spinning like a kaleidoscope, colliding into one another to create an indistinguishable, bewildering, dizzying display. The voices from each separate memory created a discordant symphony, becoming a cacophony as they overlapped, their droning tones deafening, pounding into his ears. Sparks of light exploded before his eyes, disrupting the chaotic images and sounds, jolting him back into consciousness…


“Pupil response is normal,” Dr. Ladd said, putting away his penlight after shining it in MacGyver’s brown eyes. He looked at Pete and Nikki, anxious expressions lining their faces. He smiled, trying to reassure them. “That’s a good sign.” He wiped away slobber that had dribbled from the corner of MacGyver’s mouth.

The hospital staff had once again trimmed MacGyver’s hair and shaved him. His skin stretched tighter across his bones, the weight loss resulting from his catatonic state obvious. Slowly, he began to stir, his eyes opening. Pete and Nikki clasped their hands tightly together, waiting with cautious excitement, watching hopefully along with Dr. Ladd, who was taking notes, observing his patient, recording the results of the electroconvulsive therapy. MacGyver’s eyes were not empty as they had been before—they were wandering around the room, blinking tiredly, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He licked his lips and returned his gaze back to Pete, Nikki, and Dr. Ladd, staring at them for a long time, seeming to recognize and acknowledge them.

“MacGyver, can you hear me?” Dr. Ladd asked.

MacGyver nodded.

“Oh, thank God,” Pete said, breaking out into a relieved smile, squeezing Nikki’s hand harder, both of them glad to see him return to awareness.

“Good,” Dr. Ladd said. “Now, do you know who we are?”

MacGyver’s lips moved, struggling to speak. “P-Pete…Nikki…” he looked at Dr. Ladd and frowned. “Doc?”

Dr. Ladd smiled. “Yes, that’s right,” he said.

“How are you feeling?” Nikki asked.

MacGyver’s eyes groggily searched the room again, narrowing to slits, his eyelids growing heavy. “Where…wha…happened…d-dream…why…p-please…” he mumbled, his eyes closing, drifting back to sleep, his head sinking back onto the pillow of the bed where he was still restrained as a precaution.

“I think that’s about the only response we’re going to get from him for now,” Dr. Ladd said. “He’s still confused and under the effects of the anesthetic. We should let him rest. I’ll have a lot to explain to him as he becomes more aware, since he won’t have remembered what happened to him.”

“Still, even if that wasn’t much, Doctor…that was incredible,” Pete said. “It seems the therapy actually worked.”

“He was talking again, moving, he knew us…thank God, what a relief, is all I can say,” Nikki said, watching MacGyver as he slept peacefully. “It looks like we made the right decision.”

“Well, his recovery is still going to take some time,” Dr. Ladd said, “but I think now we have increased his chances of improving sooner.”

***

El Diablo often dragged unwilling children back to his camp to fondle them, rape them, beat them—defile and corrupt them in almost every horrific way imaginable, murdering their innocence. It had become a form of entertainment in his twisted world, and when he saw that one of his audience members refused to watch, he grew surly, storming over to where he had placed MacGyver’s chained, broken body, brandishing his knife. He slapped MacGyver hard across the cheek, causing him to release a painful, surprised gasp that was muted by the gag around his mouth.

“I bring you out of the dismal quarters of the tomb, free you momentarily of your prison, remove your blindfold to allow you to see, and this is how you repay me?” He shouted.

He slapped MacGyver again, but it had no effect. He still would not open his eyes. They were squeezed tightly closed, trying to shut out the disturbing, cruel, and soulless things he was doing to those children. He only wished he could seal his ears as well, each child’s terrified, tormented screams and pleas burned permanently into his scarred memories, ringing in his ears and lingering.

El Diablo motioned for several of his men. When they arrived, he had them hold MacGyver’s head still and help him force open his eyes.

“Perhaps you do not wish to see,” he said, grinning wolfishly. “Very well. If you refuse to watch what I do, perhaps I will not allow you the privilege to see anything ever again. Perhaps I should gouge your eyes out now and save you the trouble.”

Showing MacGyver the knife again, he began to move the blade toward his wide, frightened eyes, made wider by the fingers that were prying them open. MacGyver tried to struggle, but his chained body, broken bones, weakness from starvation, and the men holding his head made it impossible. He tried to flinch, to close his eyes as the blade approached, but they were held open as if being pulled back by wires. He could not even blink or make the slightest motion with his eyelids, peeled away like the tough, protective skin of an orange, exposing the soft, pulpy eyeballs. He cried through his gag, pleading in muffled gibberish, the only language that could be filtered through the cloth as the blade came closer into his field of vision, growing fuzzy and indistinct. He wished the distortion would make it become harmless, that he could somehow forget that it was a sharp blade about to cut his eyes out, but he couldn’t escape it. He felt the edge of it begin to touch his eyeball, prepared to sever his sight forever when he heard El Diablo release another heartless, vicious laugh. The line slashing across MacGyver’s line of sight vanished as El Diablo removed the knife, replacing it in its sheath. His laughter continued when he saw that MacGyver had soiled himself in fear, once again enjoying seeing him humiliated. Snapping his fingers, he ordered his men to release MacGyver’s head and his eyes. They tied the blindfold back around them and hauled him back into the tomb, slamming the iron doors on him, placing him back into his silent, unending hell. El Diablo’s deep, malevolent laughter rumbled dreadfully around him, echoing, slowly fading…

“It’s simple, really,” a new voice said, replacing the laugh. “If we’re going to slowly dismantle and discredit the current leadership and policies of the Phoenix organization and insert our own operatives, we’re going to have to start with MacGyver. From there, we can eliminate some of their other top men, and Peter Thornton…well, let’s just say I would love to have the honor of forcing him into early retirement…”

MacGyver could see again, unhampered by the blindfold. The young man he had seen repeatedly stood over him again along with the woman who held the syringe, the shadows casting high, exaggerated angles across his pinched features that made him appear even more sinister, almost devilish
.

“MacGyver,” another voice in the chorus said. “MacGyver…”

Slowly, the image of the young man evaporated into mist, rolling away from his eyes like a curtain of clouds, revealing Dr. Ladd standing over him instead, smiling.

“How are you feeling, MacGyver?” He asked.

MacGyver’s eyes searched the room where he now was, finding nothing familiar about it except for Dr. Ladd. His joints and jaws ached, leftover from the seizure. “Mmmm…confused…” he said thickly. He looked at the restraints that held him and the bandages on his arms in puzzlement and detached curiosity as if they belonged to someone else, tugging weakly at them.

“That’s understandable.”

“Don’t…remember…”

Dr. Ladd sat back on the chair that was in the room, grabbing his notepad. “Tell me…what is the last thing you do remember?” He asked.

“Padded room…talking with Nikki…”

Dr. Ladd scribbled something on his notepad. He was unsure if the electroconvulsive therapy had caused the gap in memory or if it was MacGyver’s rapid progression of mental illness that was the cause. Time and memory were insignificant to the severely mentally ill. He sighed deeply. He had practiced beforehand what he would say to help his patient understand, but now he wondered if anything he said, no matter how much effort he put into explaining it, would make much of a difference.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this,” he said, “but that was several weeks ago. Since then, your mental health suffered a collapse. You became increasingly violent and irrational. You stabbed a security guard in the leg and bit a nurse on the hand. As you continued to decline, you became catatonic and unresponsive. We could do little to help you. You might have died had we not resorted to what some still consider a radical form of treatment. MacGyver…we had no choice. We…had to use electroconvulsive therapy. Otherwise, you might not be responding to me as you are now. You might still be locked in that catatonic state. We couldn’t afford the risk to your health, which was already suffering greatly.”

MacGyver remained silent, his eyes wandering around the room, struggling to process and absorb what Dr. Ladd was telling him.

“Please understand, it was the last thing any of us wanted to do, but the situation was desperate. Pete and Nikki were the most reluctant, concerned about the outcome. They read all the research before they reached the difficult decision that this was the best thing we could do for you, given the circumstances.”

Through the haze of his disoriented mind, MacGyver remembered reading about the mechanism behind electroconvulsive therapy himself, about how it induced a seizure. Like most people, the concept both fascinated and horrified him. Now, the mysterious and hated procedure had been performed on him, and he didn’t know what to think. It exhausted him to think. Once again, he felt disconnected from his body, his mental illness foreign and separate from him.

“I know this is overwhelming for you,” Dr. Ladd said, “but we’ll take your recovery slowly. Everything will be fine in due time, I promise you.”

The image of the young man haunted MacGyver again, becoming prominent in his jumbled thoughts. He remembered vaguely what Nikki said, about how identifying him was important somehow.

“Nikki…Pete…”

“They were here earlier when you first awoke to make sure you were all right,” Dr. Ladd said, smiling. “You are fortunate to have such caring, supportive friends.”

“I want…to see them…”

“I’ll call them and let them know. Meanwhile, you need to rest. It’s going to be all right.”

Dr. Ladd’s soothing voice began to lull MacGyver back to sleep. He wrapped its warmth and comfort around him like a blanket, shielding him from the menacing laughter of El Diablo. Still, he tried to remain awake, struggling to remember why the young man was important, and why he had to tell Nikki about him as soon as possible.

***

“Hey,” Nikki said sweetly, gently stroking MacGyver’s bandaged arm.

MacGyver slowly opened his eyes, blinking sleepily.

“Dr. Ladd updated me on your condition,” she whispered, smiling. “It sounds like you’re making progress. I’m so relieved. We thought we lost you. I…guess Dr. Ladd told you what we agreed to do for you.”

MacGyver nodded slightly. Nikki tried to read any anger or hurt in his eyes for being treated with electroconvulsive therapy without his consent, trying to detect any signs of feelings of betrayal in those brown depths, but she didn’t see any. Still, she patted his hand.

“Please try to understand,” she said. “It was the last thing any of us wanted to do…”

“I know,” MacGyver said, attempting to smile. “S’okay…”

“Really?” Nikki asked. “You…forgive us?”

“Nothing….to forgive…”

“Well, I would never want to put you through that again,” Nikki said. She shuddered, squeezing MacGyver’s hand.

“I…know…” his eyes scanned the room. “Where’s Pete?” He asked.

“Oh, he got held up at the office,” Nikki said. “He said he would come as soon as he can.”

MacGyver’s eyes widened, a sudden burst of energy causing him to wriggle frantically against the restraints, his memories floating to the surface again. “N-no…I need to see him now,” he said. “Please…”

“MacGyver, what is it?”

“…Peter Thornton…well, let’s just say I would love to have the honor of forcing him into early retirement…”

“Something’s gonna happen to him…”

“What do you mean?”

“The woman with the syringe…the young man…I see him clearly now…”

Nikki searched her memory. She thought back to their conversation in the padded room about the bridge explosion, Brandon—it all seemed so distant, pushed far back into the corners of her mind as MacGyver’s condition worsened. Now, it was brought back to the foreground.

“What does he look like?” She asked.

“Small features, close-set eyes…he was…growing his hair out to look like mine…”

Nikki squeezed MacGyver’s hand again, relieved that he could at last tell her without falling victim to another flashback. She also dreaded what he said. It seemed to confirm her suspicions about Brandon.

“Do you remember what we talked about when you were in the padded room about the bridge explosion that killed those agents in East Germany?” She asked.

“Yes,” MacGyver said, his voice faint.

“Do you remember how I told you one man survived, a new agent named Brandon? Do you remember that I told you he dressed like you?”

“Yes.”

“MacGyver…that description you just gave—I think it’s the same man.”

MacGyver fought against the restraints again, sweat beading on his forehead, a wild look to his eyes. “Don’t…let him near Pete alone…please…he’ll do something…” he said. “He’s already d-done something to me. I don’t k-know what…but I feel…I don’t know…this isn’t me…I’m not crazy…something happened…he did something to me, and now he’s going to do something to Pete…I know it…” tears moistened his pleading eyes.

“Oh God,” Nikki said. “I think Pete was meeting with Brandon to further discuss the investigation into the bridge explosion. In fact, he might be in Pete’s office right now.”

This time, MacGyver squeezed Nikki’s hand. “Stop him,” he whispered. “Please…”

Normally, Nikki would question the veracity behind what MacGyver was saying, especially now when he was in a fragile mental state, but he had seen the woman with the syringe and the young man who from his account resembled Brandon so many times she felt there had to be some validity to it. She was only glad that his memories appeared to have survived the electroconvulsive therapy intact. His vague yet useful description was the only lead she had in the case so far, and she intended to pursue it.

“I will,” she said.

To be continued…

























"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer."

--Henry David Thoreau

brains+brawn+beauty+personality=MacGyver

 
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ghostdoll
Posted: 12 July 2008 - 02:02 AM                                    
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Oh. My. God.
Wooooooo!
When Nikki returns from saving Pete, she should be appointed Mac's personal nurse *evil love thoughts* Bwuahahahahhahahahahahah!!

*cough* Ahem... yes, Brandon is evil. EVIL!!

Yay, update of my fav story! I have a few sketches for THIS story... b-but... Scanner died on me! sad.gif ;_; ;_; ;_; Dad took it and is trying to perform CPR on it (he said so and I believe himz). Hopefully sometime during this week.

Another great chapter, MacsChick, queen of the cliffhangers and suspense. Enjoy some chocolate cookies!



"Home. Enough is enough. I will not, under any circumstances, for any reason whatsoever answer the phone... probably... again." - MacGyver (S1-10: Target MacGyver)

 
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Kyrian
Posted: 12 July 2008 - 03:27 AM                                    
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Thanks, MacsChick for another great chapter!
The mystery is begining to be revealed, and my urge to SHREAD Brandon is even greater....Snarrrllll...

<Proudly brings MacsChick a fresh killed, plump rabbit>
(Should go well with the chocolate cookies)



**Growing OLD is mandatory. Growing UP is optional.**

 
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Bushmaster12
Posted: 26 January 2016 - 03:10 PM                                    
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* Growls, snarls , wants Just one minute with Brandon and syringe lady, *

Thank You Macschick ! happy_dance.gif

*proudly drags dead caribou and drops at Macschick's feet*

Should go great with cookies and rabit ! (hope you don't mind being copied, Kyrian )



 
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denizen
Posted: 26 January 2016 - 08:42 PM                                    
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Great reading!!! thumbsup.gif



"The bag's not for what I take, Colson - it's for what I find along the way."

 
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