I had more time to write than usual (it's the weekend for me), so here is the next part!
*Note: After you read this part, you might wonder why I didn't decide to end it here, seeming to be the logical conclusion. Well, I have an epilogue that I want to write next that will lead into my next story. It will be a sequel in a way, because I want to explore Mac's emotional pain and the aftermath of his torture a little more, not wanting to end it so tidily, trying to be more realistic about it. What I do with that next story remains a surprise--even to me!
Shake Hands with the Devil Part Eight
Rated: R
The Present…
“It’s exhaustion,” Dr. Sturm said quietly, watching as MacGyver slept deeply on the hospital bed, the up and down movement of the sheets bundled around him as he breathed the only indication he was alive, his body completely still and relaxed. “Once he realized the source of his terror, stress, and trauma from all of these years was finally eliminated, his body’s tension began to ease, and all the energy he was using to remain alert to danger left him, causing his body to fail and collapse.”
“So, he’ll be all right?” Pete asked.
“Yes,” Dr. Sturm said. “Actually, it will benefit him to get some much needed rest.” She looked at the fresh bandage on his neck. “His cut was minor, nothing like last time,” she said, her voice touched with sadness, remembering his long treatment after his torture. “I’m glad that was the only thing I had to treat him for this time.” She smiled down at her sleeping patient. “He’s looking much healthier than what I remember from when he was first admitted those years ago. He’s doing well, Mr. Thornton. Now, all he needs is sleep, and I think he will get it.”
“Can I stay here with him?”
“I don’t see why not. I don’t think he’ll awaken for quite some time. When he does, it might help him to see a familiar, comforting face nearby.”
“How is the other man brought in—Enrique?”
“His bullet wound is superficial,” she said. “He’ll heal just fine without any complications.”
“That’s good to hear. Thank you as always, Doctor.”
Dr. Sturm smiled politely. “You’re welcome,” she said.
After she left, Pete planned on visiting Enrique as well, but now that he knew his condition wasn’t life-threatening, he focused his full attention on MacGyver first. He was curled on his side, facing Pete, sleeping peacefully for the first time in five years, uninterrupted by disturbing nightmares. His expression was calm, and while sleeping he looked innocent and boyish, unaffected by the horrors of the past five years. Pete was relieved to see him this way, almost as if he had been untouched by the inhumanity he had experienced, although he knew in reality his friend would still be haunted by it for the rest of his life. A good sleep wouldn’t erase the years of torment, but at least it was a start, a return to normalcy. A stray lock of his wild, longish hair fell across his face, and Pete gently brushed it back, smiling and caressing his friend’s cheek. MacGyver didn’t even stir.
Although he considered and treated MacGyver as his equal, as his colleague, a part of him still couldn’t help but feel protective towards him, like a father. He had adopted him as a son. He knew that Mac needed him, even when he insisted that he didn’t, that he was quite capable of handling things on his own. A loner, he nevertheless needed someone who could understand his eccentricities, guide, and support him when he was at his most vulnerable, none of his relatives alive any longer to fill that role. Pete didn’t know what MacGyver would have done if he hadn’t been around to help him recover from his torture and subsequent therapies, not knowing of any other Director of Operations who would be as patient and understanding, going beyond their job descriptions on a regular basis. He would never fully admit to MacGyver that he felt this way about him, but he could sense that he already knew and was silently grateful, even if outwardly he appeared embarrassed by it.
“You’re going to be fine now, kid,” he said, sighing.
Settling into the chair by his bedside, Pete continued to watch him sleep, falling asleep himself several times before MacGyver awoke hours later, stretching, yawning, and groaning tiredly. His sleepy, half-open eyes searched the hospital room, confused but not frightened as they had been when he used to awaken abruptly from his nightmares.
“Hey there,” Pete said, taking his hand. “How are you doing?”
“I feel rested for a change,” MacGyver said weakly. “What happened?”
“You’ve been asleep for twelve hours,” Pete said.
MacGyver touched the bandage on his neck, the cut from El Diablo’s knife stinging and itching. “I don’t remember anything,” he said. “El Diablo was caught, and then after that, it’s just…blank.”
“You passed out,” Pete said. “After everything that monster did to you, and then seeing him finally receive justice…well, it was simply too much for your body to handle any longer.”
“So…he really is caught?”
“Yes, he’s in custody now.”
“It all seemed so…unreal…”
“I know, but it’s over now. He won’t have a chance to brutalize his people—or you—ever again.”
MacGyver smiled. “The nightmares,” he said. “They’re gone. I don’t remember having any.”
“No, you slept quite soundly for a change,” Pete said. “They could still return, unfortunately, but you’ve made progress. With the knowledge that El Diablo is gone, you should be resting much easier from now on.” MacGyver licked his lips, and Pete knew he had to be thirsty after such a long sleep. “Can I get you anything? How about some water?”
“Sure Pete,” MacGyver said, still relieved that a simple request could be fulfilled, remembering and being used to having his most basic comforts denied during his torture.
“All right. I’m just going to check on Enrique, and then I’ll get you some.”
MacGyver grabbed his arm, preventing him from standing. “Wait…Enrique? What happened to him?” He asked.
“He was shot in the leg by one of El Diablo’s men. Don’t worry—the doctor said he’ll be fine.”
“When did this happen?”
“When El Diablo’s men opened fire on us. I think you must’ve been pretty out of it at that point, paralyzed with fear from seeing El Diablo again. I saw you momentarily, even through the confusion. You were standing there, frozen. You could have been shot yourself.”
MacGyver lowered his eyes. “It’s amazing, how one man can have that much power over another…”
“Well, he doesn’t have power over you anymore, or anybody else. He’s been stripped of that power.”
“Can I see Enrique with you?”
“Are you sure you’re up to it?”
MacGyver grinned sideways. “I’ve been asleep for twelve hours,” he said. “I don’t see the harm in it.”
“All right. Come on, then.”
Pete offered his hand to help MacGyver out of bed, and although he no longer needed assistance to get into a standing position as he did during the aftermath of his torture, he gladly accepted it, clasping his hand tightly, once again with the hand that once had broken fingers that could barely function, not able to even pick up a pencil. They walked down the hallways until they reached Enrique’s room, finding him conscious but groggy from pain medication, his wounded leg bandaged. The television was on, vociferously broadcasting the devastating announcement that the man the United States had placed its faith in for the reconstruction of the war-torn South American country was in fact a war criminal himself. The coverage blared, echoing through the room continuously, the reporter’s voice filled with dismay over the stunning turn of events. Enrique turned when he heard MacGyver and Pete enter.
“It is now official,” he said, smiling with satisfaction. “The news has broken. Now, the world will know who he really is. He cannot hide any longer.”
“The world was shocked to learn that Carlos Gutierrez, only hours ago hailed as the promising future leader of his country, is in fact Juan Garza, alias El Diablo, formerly a head torturer under Velazquez’s regime, accused of thousands of human rights violations,” the reporter said, a tremor still in his voice, still not quite believing what he was reporting. They showed file footage of riots and violent demonstrations, but thankfully spared any graphic images of torture that might have triggered another flashback in MacGyver. “Juan Garza is now in custody and will face the international war crimes tribunal to answer for his crimes against humanity,” the reporter’s voice said over the old footage of political upheaval in the streets, Velazquez’s men clashing with citizens, shooting them indiscriminately and beating some of the other agitators with clubs. These violent images disappeared, replaced once again with the face of the shaken reporter. “In a statement issued by the State Department, the official position of the United States as well as our allies is that they were unaware of Gutierrez’s true identity until new intelligence was brought to their attention, and that they would never knowingly endorse a man with such a brutal reputation and violent past as a prospective leader for that country.”
“We were hoodwinked by a man who reinvented himself and gave a convincing performance,” A State Department representative said in an earlier press conference, his obvious discomfort and chagrin showing in his stiffened posture. “It’s that simple. While it was an extreme oversight, I wish to point out to you that the entire international community believed in this man. It is an embarrassment to the world, but without the cooperation of our intelligence community uncovering the truth about this man, we might not have averted what would have been a major tragedy for the people of this already politically unstable region. What we must do now is allow the international court to pursue justice in this matter.”
“Sir, are you aware that the president’s approval ratings have plummeted dramatically since the release of this damaging information?”
Pete glared at the television, turning it off in disgust. “We just avoided a disaster that would have affected thousands, and all the press can worry about is the president’s approval ratings,” he said gruffly. “One whiff of scandal, and all the world’s leaders can do is scramble to defend and protect their own precious reputations, never once considering the broader implications, never once thinking about how many lives are now going to be spared as a result of El Diablo’s capture.”
Enrique smiled at Pete. “That is how the game of politics is played, Mr. Thornton,” he said. “Perception matters. Velazquez understood that when he used his influence to assume power, but El Diablo understood it even better. Just look at how close he came.”
Pete and MacGyver shuddered, not wanting to think about it.
“So, what happens for you next?” MacGyver asked.
Enrique looked down at his bandaged leg. “First, I will heal from this bullet wound,” he said. “After that, I will return to my country where I am badly needed. I will help the UN peacekeepers in my country organize free, democratic elections at last.”
“Any chance you’ll be on the ballot?”
Enrique noticed that MacGyver had winked at him, and he blushed slightly. “We’ve discussed this before,” he said.
“So, what’s your answer?” Pete asked.
“I won’t rule it out, but we will have to see. There is a lot of work to be done. I am not so interested in any future political career I may have as I am in helping my people.”
“There should be more selfless people like you in leadership positions,” MacGyver said. “Sadly, too many of them are only interested in the prestige that running a country will award them.”
“That’s also when it gets out of hand sometimes, that lust for power turning into dictatorships like Velazquez’s government,” Pete said. “That’s the unfortunate lesson we had to learn from this. We narrowly escaped another one.”
“Well, whatever happens, I know your country will be in better hands with you around,” MacGyver said, shaking Enrique’s hand, once again using the hand that had once been badly damaged. “I wish you luck. I know you’ll do just fine.”
“And you, MacGyver? Will you be all right?” Enrique asked, probing him with his intense eyes.
MacGyver glanced at Pete. “I guess some part of me will never forget what happened,” he said, sighing. “I know it’s unavoidable, but with El Diablo finally facing justice, I can at least relax and find contentment knowing that he will be prosecuted and will never be able to harm anyone again. Now that the world opinion is decidedly against him, there is nowhere he can hide anymore.”
“I just wonder what kind of punishment they will decide on,” Pete said. “The death penalty? Normally, I’m not for it, but if anyone deserves it, it’s El Diablo.”
“No matter how they choose to deal with him, it will not completely erase the record of what he did,” Enrique said. “I am afraid those old wounds will remain for quite some time.”
MacGyver stared at him, the anguish that remained in his eyes revealing that he understood exactly what he meant.
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
