This part still has some violence, but I don't think it's too graphic this time, so I'm going to rate it PG. Enjoy!
Oh, and I had a hard time separating what Mac was seeing in a flashback to what was really going on, so I used italics again for that purpose. He's not necessarily flashing back to anything that really happened, but he does see El Diablo, and El Diablo's parts are italicized. I hope that makes sense.
Shattered Survivor Part Four
Rated: PG
“MacGyver, do you know why you would attack Pete?” His psychiatrist Dr. Ladd asked.
“I don’t know,” MacGyver said, his voice distant and monotone as he stared at the dark carpeting in the office.
“Do you know why you would have become so aggressive and hostile towards him?”
“I don’t…know…I don’t remember…” he sighed and rubbed his face, never feeling more exhausted and confused in his life. He looked up at Dr. Ladd, a morose expression on his face. “How is he?”
“He’s pretty banged up, but there’s no permanent damage.”
“It just makes no sense. I would never do that to him.”
Dr. Ladd removed his glasses and wiped them with a cloth, watching MacGyver carefully. “Well, not intentionally, no,” he said. “Of course you wouldn’t. Perhaps something triggered it. Can you think back for me and tell me what you think might have caused the outburst?”
“I…I don’t know…this whole thing has been weird for me, Doc. I just wanted to go on a vacation to try to find closure to the nightmare that has been my life these past five years, and everything went wrong. I was bit by a rattlesnake, and apparently I imagined a whole town and a woman I thought I knew. How would you feel? It seems as if I’m losing my grip on reality.”
“Do you think that has something to do with the violence you inflicted on Pete?”
“I…I suppose so…God, I just feel terrible…I wish I knew…”
Dr. Ladd blinked slowly at MacGyver, a sober expression on his face. The stare in his cold blue eyes was clinical, yet there seemed to be pity in them as well. He looked like a man trying to remain composed around someone he knew was losing his sanity, something his profession had trained him well in, yet it was difficult. It was the psychiatrist’s version of telling a patient or a family member that they had a devastating disease, although this disease was purely of the mind rather than the body.
“I want you to know that Pete took the liberty of having his staff at The Phoenix Foundation conduct a thorough search on any possible matches for the town of Red Dunes, along with any inhabitants of the town with the first name of Kay. They found absolutely nothing. It appears this town does not exist, and, most likely, neither does the woman you mentioned.”
MacGyver winced and rubbed his forehead, feeling an incredible headache emerging. “See, that just can’t be,” he said. “I know she was real, Doc.”
Dr. Ladd raised a gray eyebrow. “Do you have any evidence such as a last name or a phone number or address…anything?” He asked.
“No,” MacGyver said. “I was just getting to know her. In fact, I…I thought I had met her six years ago.”
“Before you were captured and tortured?”
“Yes.”
Intrigued, Dr. Ladd referred to his notes and then returned to his patient. “Interesting,” he said. “So you actually believe you knew her previously?”
“Yes! Now, you tell me how I could have been hallucinating or delusional if I saw her six years ago.”
“When did you meet her six years ago? Was it a few months before you went on assignment? Because my notes say you went on that assignment to South America in January of the new year.”
“I think so. Why?”
“Do you remember anything else that happened before you went on that assignment?”
MacGyver shrugged. “No, not really,” he said. “I was doing my usual routine, I suppose. It’s hard for me to remember six years ago in any kind of detail…except for her.”
“That’s precisely the point,” Dr. Ladd said.
“What is?”
Dr. Ladd sighed and leaned forward as if he were divulging a secret, his intense eyes boring into MacGyver’s. “My theory is that you invented this woman when you were in the darkest days of your captivity,” he said. “You never met her—except in your mind. You needed a comforting presence, and she became it. You haven’t had any other relationships since this happened to you, have you?”
“No…no, it’s been…tough…”
“Then you see, she became a substitute for any real, meaningful relationship you could have had, because you’ve been too ashamed and afraid to embark on a real one for fear the woman would not understand what you had been through or your pain.”
“Great,” MacGyver said, looking away from Dr. Ladd, blushing and grinning awkwardly in embarrassment. “So I really am crazy.”
“Now, not necessarily,” Dr. Ladd said. “Many of my patients have had similar experiences to what you endured, and they tell me about people they imagined coming to visit them while they were in their most desperate moments. Sometimes, it was people they knew, like family members. Other times, it was someone they created entirely in their minds, like a sympathetic soldier from the enemy camp. It is not completely unheard of in these cases. It’s a coping mechanism to handle the almost unbearable world of torture and pain.”
Immense sadness filled MacGyver as he realized that Dr. Ladd was probably correct in his assertion that Kay was an illusion of his tormented mind. She had been so kind to him. He revealed everything to her, his secret world of pain, and she hadn’t cared. She didn’t judge him or become overwhelmed or afraid of him as some other women might when faced with such unthinkable horrors. She had loved him, but she was not real. Now, he had to acknowledge and face the truth.
“But…but why would I have beaten Pete? I…I can’t explain…was it a flashback…what?” He asked.
“Pete told me you were shouting at someone who wasn’t there, someone you said was dead.”
“El Diablo…” MacGyver trembled and his eyes filled with terror when he said his name.
“That’s right.” Dr. Ladd looked down at his notes again. “You said he made you witness the murder of an innocent child when you were his prisoner,” he said.
MacGyver closed his eyes, trying to shut out the vivid images from that time. “Yes,” he said angrily, tears leaking from his closed eyelids. “And I could do nothing to stop him. I…I wanted to…but…oh God!” He released a sob.
“It’s all right, I understand,” Dr. Ladd said in a soothing tone. “There was nothing you could do to prevent it. Many of your bones were broken, you were starved, weakened, and dehydrated—
MacGyver snapped his eyes open, glaring at Dr. Ladd, his eyes moist with tears and burning with rage. “He just shot that kid like it was nothing, like it didn’t matter!” He shouted. “How sick can you get? All that boy was trying to do was help me…and he died because of it—because of me…” he sobbed again and buried his face in his hands.
“Now, we’ve been through this many times, MacGyver. You didn’t kill that boy. It wasn’t your fault. El Diablo was a psychopath. He would have murdered that child no matter what, because that’s how his mind functioned. He lacked a conscience and was ruthless, hungry for power at any cost, taking pleasure out of seeing people in pain.” Dr. Ladd paused for awhile, observing MacGyver’s strong emotional reaction that hadn’t faded with time. “It upsets you, doesn’t it? To this day, the injustice of it…it angers you?”
“Of course it does, damn it!” MacGyver shouted. “That kid shouldn’t have died! He had no right! He had no damn right!” He shuddered and tried to calm himself, reminding himself that it was over, that the event had long since passed and there was nothing he could do to control or shape the past now.
“So you unleashed your anger, at last. The hatred you felt for this man was finally allowed an outlet during this last flashback.”
“So you’re saying that’s why I beat Pete?” MacGyver asked, sniffing and wiping away his hot tears.
“Exactly.”
“But that’s never happened before. Why now?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe because you know El Diablo is dead and can’t harm you anymore, you feel you can release your emotions completely and at least imagine that you gave him the punishment you felt he justly deserved for treating you so harshly and for taking away innocent life.”
“Pete,” MacGyver said, shaking his head and staring blankly at the drab carpet again. “He should never have been the target. Never…”
“You didn’t know it was going to happen. Your flashback had taken over the rational side of your mind.”
“But I could have hurt him far worse than you say I did. I could have killed him.”
“True, but you didn’t.”
MacGyver’s dark, mournful eyes wandered around the room until they met with Dr. Ladd’s again. “What do I do?” He asked. “What happens now?”
“Well, it isn’t going to be easy. It’s never going to be easy. I told you that from the first session when you were almost too traumatized to speak to me. We’ll just have to monitor it day by day and see how you do.”
“Can I see Pete? I want to tell him…I’m sorry…”
Dr. Ladd smiled. “He understands,” he said. “He knows you didn’t do this on purpose.”
“Still, I want to talk to him…”
“He wants to talk to you, too. He’s outside, waiting.” Dr. Ladd stood and placed his notes on his black leather chair. He looked at MacGyver. “I’ll go get him.”
***
When Pete entered, MacGyver stared at his many bruises in shock, especially the deep purple finger marks around his neck, knowing that he had been the cause of them.
“Pete…”
“You don’t have to say anything, Mac,” Pete said. “I know you were having a flashback. You didn’t mean to hurt me.”
“How are you feeling, though?”
“I’m a little sore, but I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sorry…”
Pete smiled gently. “It’s all right,” he said. “You don’t have to be.”
The heartless, deep laughter of El Diablo returned, filling the room. He stood directly in front of MacGyver. Pete and Dr. Ladd had disappeared. “You beat your best friend because you thought he was me,” he said, grinning devilishly. “How pathetic.” “You’re not really here,” MacGyver said. “I know that this time.”
“MacGyver, who are you talking to?” Pete asked, watching as his friend’s eyes once again became unfocused and distant.
“It appears he’s having another flashback,” Dr. Ladd said. “I suggest we step back and exercise caution.”
“I’m always here, dog. You can’t get rid of me.” “Go away! Get out of here, now!” MacGyver shouted. “Leave me alone!”
“MacGyver!” Pete shouted. “MacGyver, you have to hear me! Come back to us!”
“I don’t think he can hear us,” Dr. Ladd said. “We might have to wait.”
“Wait until what? MacGyver! Mac, come back!”
“NO!” MacGyver screamed, hurling objects he found on Dr. Ladd’s desk, causing the other two men in the room to duck to avoid getting struck. “Go away! Leave me alone! Please, stop! NO!”
El Diablo’s cruel laughter grew louder, filling the room, taunting him. “You can’t stop me. You can’t make me go anywhere. I own you.” “MacGyver, listen to me!” Pete shouted, standing once his friend was finished throwing things.
“Pete, don’t get too close!” Dr. Ladd shouted. “He can be unpredictable. Remember what happened last time.”
“I don’t care. I have to do something. I can’t watch him act this way.” He grabbed MacGyver by the shoulders. “MacGyver, look at me! It’s going to be okay.”
El Diablo had grabbed him, trying to twist his arms behind him so he could bind him and drag him away. “You’ll never get away from me,” he hissed. “NO! Let go of me!” MacGyver shouted, squirming. Once he was able to wrench himself free, he began punching him, knocking him to the floor. “You’re never going to imprison me again! I’m free! Do you understand? I’m free! And you’re dead! You can’t touch me again!” He shouted with each punch.
“No…Mac, no!” Pete groaned, forced to feel the pain from his old bruises renew along with the fresh, new ones that were going to form after this latest beating. He looked up pleadingly at Dr. Ladd. “Do something!” He shouted.
Calmly, Dr. Ladd pressed a button beneath his desk. Within minutes, two burly men burst into the room, pulling MacGyver off of Pete and restraining him.
El Diablo’s men grabbed him, pinning his arms. Wiping the blood from his mouth, El Diablo slowly stood, wobbling slightly, dizzy from the punches. “I’m impressed,” he said. “I should kill you now, but I’m impressed. You still have quite a lot of spirit in you. I will have to rip it out of you slowly, piece by piece, painfully, until you’re close to death, but no, I will not allow you to die. You will suffer eternally…” “Let go of me!” MacGyver shouted, struggling against the men that held him. “Stop! No! No! Please…”
His eyes rolled back in his head, and he lost consciousness again, his body going limp and slumping in the men’s thick, sturdy arms. The men looked questioningly at Dr. Ladd.
“Place him on the sofa for now and keep watch over him,” he said.
Nodding, the men did as he instructed. Dr. Ladd turned to the fallen form of Pete, offering his hand to help him back up to standing position, bracing him since he was unsteady on his feet.
“It’s a good thing I have security. Working with combat vets with similar experiences, I always have to be prepared. Are you all right?” He asked.
“I think so,” Pete said, gasping and gently touching his puffy, bruised, and bleeding face. Dazed, he looked at MacGyver’s unconscious body, draped across the leather sofa. He looked as if he was peacefully sleeping when moments earlier he had been so pugnacious and bellicose. “What just happened? Why did he do that again? Another flashback?”
“I’m afraid so,” Dr. Ladd said, glancing as his patient. “This is more serious than I thought. His condition is going to require more monitoring.”
Pete’s eyes widened. “You’re talking about committing him?” He asked.
“As long as he’s a threat, he’s going to have to be watched,” Dr. Ladd said. “However, given the history of his confinement and torture, we’ll have to refrain from using any kind of restraints as a precaution, as they could trigger more violent flashbacks to his captivity and bondage. We would only use them as a last resort if he becomes too uncontrollable.” He looked at Pete. “He will be placed in a secure facility under the best care, I promise,” he said. “It’s all we can do for him at this point.”
Pete felt sick. He wasn’t sure if it was from MacGyver’s blows or from the possibility that his friend would have to be institutionalized. He sat on Dr. Ladd’s chair, staring sadly at his friend.
“For how long?” He asked.
Dr. Ladd shook his head. “There’s no way of determining that yet,” he said. “Ultimately, it’s going to require some effort on MacGyver’s part to make any kind of progress.”
“I don’t understand,” Pete said, choking back tears. “He was doing so well. El Diablo was finally dead, he was ready to move on with his life…how could this have happened?”
“I wish I knew,” Dr. Ladd said. “It seems as if he has suffered a relapse of some kind. Who knows what caused it. I do know that we have to do all that we can to help him heal again, even if that means removing him from society for awhile.”
Pete closed his eyes. He was losing MacGyver again, and he didn’t know if he would ever recover this time. It seemed El Diablo’s work to destroy him, even from beyond the grave, was complete.
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
Is always hard for a father to watch his son suffer and be powerless to protect him. I love this story a lot, can you tell? 
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