This story is a little darker and contains some heavy themes, which is why I gave it an R rating, just in case. Other than that, enjoy!
Secrets and Consequences Part One
Rated: R
Pete visited the gravesite of one of his fallen colleagues from his DXS days, not expecting to see anyone else on the deserted cemetery grounds on such a gloomy, drizzly day. That was until he saw MacGyver in the distance. He didn’t recognize him at first, the thick, damp, and chilly fog blanketing the gravestones obscuring everything, reducing visibility and making everything almost indistinguishable around him. Still, there was something about the blurry, indistinct figure that he instantly recognized as he studied it closer, the posture, height, and gait familiar to him. Approaching slowly, not wanting to startle him, the appearance of the figure became clearer as he got closer, and there was no doubt in his mind now. The man standing over a tombstone was unmistakably MacGyver. His head was bowed reverently, a pensive and forlorn expression on his face. He didn’t notice Pete’s presence, focused entirely on the grave, staring blankly at it. Looking down, Pete noticed that he had placed a solitary, fresh red rose on the stone slab that served as the grave marker, partly covering the engraving, but he could read the name.
ASHLEY SCOTT
Not recognizing the name, he decided to ask MacGyver, even though he knew it would interrupt his private grieving and possibly anger him. He couldn’t help it. He was simply too curious, surprised to find his friend at the same cemetery, visiting it on the same day as he was, never imagining that they would encounter each other in such a dismal setting in such a strange, coincidental circumstance.
“MacGyver, what are you doing here? I thought all your relatives were buried in Minnesota,” he said.
Acknowledging him at last, MacGyver lifted his head and looked at him, his dark eyes filled with a mournful expression that was devastating for Pete to behold. Saying nothing, he sighed deeply and turned away, cramming his hands inside his jacket pockets and hunching his shoulders as if to protect himself. Pete knew he had upset him, but he continued to talk to him, wanting to know more, wanting to help him.
“Who is that?” He asked, pointing at the grave.
A visible shudder ran through MacGyver’s body, and Pete knew it had nothing to do with the chill in the air. MacGyver glanced sideways, revealing his strong profile, staring back down at the grave.
“No one,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible. He turned away and began walking.
Pete followed him but remained at a distance, not wanting to incur his ire any further, knowing he was suffering deeply from serious emotional wounds and had to treat him delicately so that perhaps he would slowly begin to open up and reveal more. When MacGyver did stop, he sat down on a bench even though it was wet, slumping down low in it and burying his face in his hands. It shocked Pete to see him so stricken with grief, never seeing him so affected, not even after Mike’s accidental death. Carefully, he sat down beside him, gathering the folds of his trenchcoat around him to shield him from the cold, pulling his hat down closer around his ears. Sensing him, MacGyver released an agonized groan, muffled by his hands.
“Go away, Pete,” he said irritably, removing his hands from his face and glaring at him, his dark eyes fierce, piercing, and intense, hooded by his long eyelashes. They were wet, and Pete could tell he had been crying earlier before he had arrived.
“Mac, I…”
“Didn’t you hear me? Do you always have to be where I am? I said leave me alone!” MacGyver shouted, his voice echoing through the empty cemetery.
“I’m sorry, Mac,” Pete said gently, trying to be patient with him, trying to calm him. “I wasn’t intentionally trying to follow you, at least not initially.”
MacGyver sharply turned his head away from him, ignoring him, folding his arms in front of him in a guarded position.
“I was here visiting a friend of mine, paying my respects,” Pete said, trying to explain. “I didn’t expect to see you, but then I did, and I…look, I’m sorry. This was a mistake. I should never have…you’re obviously hurting, and I had no right to intrude into your personal life. If you ever want to talk to me about it, I’m here, but if not, I understand. Excuse me.” He stood, prepared to leave.
“She killed herself,” MacGyver said unexpectedly, his tone flat and emotionless.
“What?” Pete asked, turning to face him, noticing his eyes were filled with sorrow. He sat back down, realizing that his friend was now willing to share with him. “What are you talking about? You mean that woman back there whose grave you were visiting? How did you know her?”
“It’s a long story, a long time ago,” MacGyver said. He shook his head and turned away, once again avoiding him. “I shouldn’t be telling you.”
“Mac, I may be your boss and your colleague, but you should know by now that I’m also your friend. You can trust me. You can tell me anything. I’ll listen. I won’t judge you. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
MacGyver sighed deeply and shivered, hugging himself tighter, wrapping his arms around himself. He blinked rapidly, and Pete knew that he was struggling to withhold more tears that were threatening to emerge. Quickly, he wiped them away and returned to embracing himself tightly, rocking slightly.
“Come on, Mac, it’s okay,” Pete said, gently touching his shoulder, speaking in quiet, soothing tones. “Tell me about it. You said that she killed herself? How did you know her?”
“We were…seeing each other,” MacGyver said, staring at the muddy, moist ground at his feet. “It was seven years ago, before you and I really got to know each other well. I never told anyone about it. I never wanted to. I wanted to keep it secret, hoping the pain would just go away, but after all this time, it hasn’t. It’s still there.” He looked up at Pete with his haunting eyes, his lip quivering as more tears filled them. He released a choked sob and looked away again, wiping his eyes.
“What happened?” Pete asked, rubbing MacGyver’s trembling back. “Why did she kill herself?”
“It was my fault,” MacGyver said. “She was sensitive. She loved me. I should have seen that. I could have helped her. Instead, I pushed her away when she needed me the most. I abandoned her.” He released another sob and held his head in his hands again, leaning forward, his body shaking with the force of his tears.
“It’s all right,” Pete said, wrapping his arm around him in support. “You didn’t know she would commit suicide. There was no way you could predict that.”
“You don’t understand,” MacGyver said, looking back up at Pete with his red, wet eyes, his face contorted with sadness. “I could have saved her before it was too late.”
“There was nothing you could have done.”
“You’re wrong about that,” MacGyver said, looking away again. “I could have been there for her. I could have been a better person. Instead, I followed my own selfish needs without regard for hers. I left her. I told her I didn’t want to see her anymore, and she killed herself.” He released another tormented, distressed sob and buried his face in his hands. “I’m always doing that. I always take people for granted, and then they’re gone. I could have done something. I know I could have.”
“You didn’t know she was emotionally fragile,” Pete said. “There was nothing you could do to prevent it. Stop blaming yourself.”
MacGyver sniffed loudly, sobbing uncontrollably, his breaths coming from him in short, hiccupping gasps. Pete held him closer to him, stroking his damp hair as if he were a small, afflicted child. Thunder rumbled overhead and a steady rain began to fall, drenching them, but neither man seemed to notice.
“I’m the only one to blame,” MacGyver said, his face half buried, pressed against Pete’s wet overcoat. “She killed herself…because of me. How could I have been so cruel, so heartless?”
“You may be many things, but I know you. You’re anything but callous or unfeeling,” Pete said. “I’m sure you did the best you could to make her understand how you felt.”
“It wasn’t enough though, was it? It’s never enough.”
“You can’t always save everyone. You can only do the best you can.”
“I should have stayed with her, Pete. I should never have left. This never would have happened. She would have been happy.”
“What about you? Would you have been happy? Could you convince yourself that you wanted to extend your relationship with her, just to keep her from harming herself? Could you lie to yourself? Eventually, she would still see through your best intentions and know that you were only staying with her for her sake, not your own. She still would have found out the truth, and both of you would have been miserable in the process, hiding and lying to each other to protect your true feelings.”
“Why couldn’t I just love her?”
“You did. I’m sure you did. You cared for her. You have a very loving, generous nature. That’s just who you are. You just didn’t want to be in a relationship with her the way she wanted you to.”
“I was unfair to her.”
“As I said, you would have been more unfair to her if you had been polite and didn’t tell her the truth about what you felt. That’s what true love means. Honesty and openness, even if it hurts, even if it isn’t what the other person wants to hear. Still, they need to hear it, regardless.”
MacGyver released another heavy sigh, squeezing Pete tightly for support, as if he would collapse without his steadying presence.
“How did you learn about her suicide?” Pete asked. “Who told you?”
MacGyver released Pete and looked at him, clutching his shoulders, the troubled look in his dark eyes disturbing and unsettling.
“No one,” he said. “I found her myself. She killed herself in my apartment.”
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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