I told myself I wasn't going to stay up late to finish this part, but well...I did anyway.
I hope you enjoy it!
Oh, and yes, it is rated R, given the torture scenes. Again, it's nothing too violent, but violent enough to warrant the R rating.
When He Wakes…
Part Three
Rated: R
“You wanted to see me, Sir?” Brandon Scott asked, entering Pete’s office. This time, he was not so brazen. Instead, he seemed almost timid, humbled by his last encounter with the formidable, intimidating older man.
Pete stifled a chuckle at his constant attempts to imitate MacGyver’s style of dress, this time wearing a similar worn brown leather bomber jacket. His moment of amusement ended quickly when he thought about the reasons for requesting the young man’s presence.
“Yes Brandon,” he said, sighing deeply. “I’ve uh…been deliberating on this for quite some time. The decision hasn’t been an easy one for me, but…I want you to take one of MacGyver’s assignments.”
Brandon’s ecstatic reaction could not be contained, a beaming smile forming on his face and seeming to take on a life of its own, his lips trembling and quirking in different directions all at once.
“Really?” He asked. “That’s terrific news, Mr. Thornton! Are…are you serious?”
Pete nodded calmly, understandably less elated, not favoring the idea at all but knowing he had few options at that point. “You will be going into East Germany with a select, elite group of DXS covert operatives to retrieve important intelligence information vital to our national security,” he said.
Brandon’s gleeful, broad grin deflated. “You…you mean I will be working with other agents?” He asked, the doleful tone of his voice obvious.
“Yes.”
Brandon pouted in disappointment. “But…MacGyver always works alone,” he said.
“Well, you are
not MacGyver,” Pete said emphatically, allowing his strong emotions for his friend to emerge. He realized he probably offended the young man, but he didn’t care. The whining, sniveling, arrogant boy was fortunate to have been given any assignment at all as far as he was concerned. “You have a lot to prove still. Consider this another field exercise in real world conditions. You’re ambitious enough that I’m sure you’ll eventually advance to working on your own assignments, but you’re not there yet. You’re still untested and inexperienced, and until you get some actual field work on your resume, you will need to work with others in order to learn the realities and rigors of the job. Do you understand?”
“Yeah, but MacGyver—
“Is an exception!” Pete roared. Almost immediately, he regretted it, watching as the young man flinched. He sighed, trying to calm himself. “Listen, I know you admire him,” he said, his tone more gentle and avuncular, “but you’re just going to have to admit that it will take you a little more time before you can be on equal ground with him. There is no shame in that. Every man has had to prove himself in this organization, even the best. Is that clear?”
Brandon’s expression hardened as he tried to hide his anger, clenching his jaw and glaring at Pete, fighting internally to respect his authority yet despising him at the same time. “Yes sir,” he forced himself to say, his throat tightened, his tone bitter. “I’m sure I’ll be able to handle myself just fine, and you’ll see that I won’t need any babysitters in the future.” He paused to see if his harsh words had any effect on the older man. When he appeared unperturbed even though the tension in the air was palpable, staring back at him as if challenging him, he realized he had once again been defeated. “Is that all you have for me?” He asked, still trembling with his buried rage, never feeling more inadequate in his life.
“For now,” Pete said. “You will receive details on the assignment later.”
“Thank you, Mr. Thornton,” Brandon said through grit teeth, trying to control the sudden hatred he felt for his superior for not trusting him to carry out an assignment alone, as if he were a child in need of close supervision while MacGyver had never needed that kind of monitoring. What, he wondered, was the difference? What made MacGyver special and above the rules? Still, he chose not to argue or antagonize Mr. Thornton, knowing that any further displays of insubordination could cost him his first assignment, even if it was with other agents and not acting independently as he would have preferred. “Good day, sir.”
Pete watched Brandon as he left, his gait not as bouncy or confident as it had been when he entered. He wondered if he secretly enjoyed upsetting the young man and slowly destroying his inflated sense of importance because he didn’t want to see him succeed, afraid he would eventually replace MacGyver as his top man. He knew one day finding a successor for MacGyver would be inevitable, just as there were senior officials within the organization vying for his position as Director of Operations, knowing he couldn’t continue forever. Still, he didn’t want to think about it. He convinced himself that MacGyver was nowhere near finished yet, that he had simply suffered a severe setback, but nothing he couldn’t overcome. The thought of either of them being absent from the Foundation, no longer making a contribution, was unbearable and intolerable to him.
Nikki entered the office as Brandon left, pausing once again as she passed him to do a double-take.
“Well, what did MacGyver Junior want this time?” She asked.
Pete looked at her sadly. “I just gave him one of the assignments I had in mind for MacGyver,” he said.
“What? Do you think that was a wise decision?” She asked.
“I had no alternative. This case is time sensitive. There is vital information we need, and MacGyver is unavailable and unable at this time to find it for us. Besides, Brandon will be working with several other agents.”
Nikki smirked. “I’ll bet he was overjoyed,” she said.
“Oh, he wasn’t pleased, that’s for sure, but I reminded him that he wasn’t MacGyver. Simply adopting his wardrobe doesn’t make him the same man.”
“Speaking of MacGyver, I thought I would try to visit him today,” Nikki said. ‘That’s why I came to see you—to let you know.”
“Well, you don’t need my permission, Nikki. I think he would like to see you, even if your relationship has been…shall I say…acrimonious at times.”
“Just because we disagree on methods doesn’t mean I don’t care for him,” Nikki said. “I want to see if there is anything I can do to help bring him back to his senses.”
Pete nodded. “All right,” he said. “Go. See what you can do for him. Maybe a variety of people visiting him will help.”
***
Nikki met Dr. Ladd at the psychiatric hospital. “How is MacGyver doing?” She asked, almost dreading the answer.
Dr. Ladd sighed and shook his head. “It’s unclear at this point whether my sessions with him have produced any results,” he said. “He still relives what appear to be highly realistic flashbacks, unable to distinguish these traumatic past events with the present. Basically, he exists in two worlds where time has no significance. He has moments of clarity only to slip back into reacting, sometimes violently, to his vivid hallucinations.”
“Have you come any closer to figuring out why he would be suffering this way after so many years have passed since his torture?”
“No. At this point, I have been unable to make a connection to anything or form any solid conclusions. I have only a few theories; however, even those are vague at best at this point. Unfortunately, the exact causes of his current mental condition remain a mystery, but I am sure as I continue to work with him I will arrive at a satisfactory answer that will lead us to find a cure.”
“I hope so,” Nikki said, sighing. “Can I see him?”
Before Dr. Ladd could answer her and lead her to MacGyver’s room, a distressed nurse ran down the corridor towards them, a panicked expression on her face. An alarm sounded loudly over the ward.
“Medical Emergency, room six,” a voice blared through the public address system. “Medical Emergency, room six!”
“Oh my God, what now?” Dr. Ladd asked.
“What is it?” Nikki asked.
“That’s MacGyver’s room.”
The frantic nurse finally reached them, grabbing Dr. Ladd’s arm, gripping it tightly, fighting to catch her breath from running.
“Tell me what’s happening,” Dr. Ladd said to her.
“Your patient,” the nurse said, gasping. “I tried to reach you as soon as I could…”
“Just tell me what’s going on.”
“He’s choking!”
Alarmed, Dr. Ladd and Nikki raced down the hallway towards MacGyver’s room where the door was already flung open, medical personnel swarming around his body as he gasped and wheezed, struggling for air, his face red, his throat muscles pulled taut as he strained…
El Diablo’s men hoisted MacGyver’s chained body in the air, something that had become increasingly easy to do, his body ravaged by starvation. Removing him from the stale, foul-smelling environment of The Tomb revealed how grimy he was, his tattered clothing, hair, and practically his entire body soiled with blood and waste. Wrinkling his nose in disgust at the pungent odors emanating from MacGyver’s body, El Diablo sneered.
“You are absolutely filthy, dog,” he whispered in MacGyver’s dirty ear. “Perhaps it is time you take a bath, no?”
All MacGyver could do was release a weak mewl from behind his gag, unable to do anything else, his body broken, chained, and weakened. Laughing, El Diablo signaled to his men to submerge MacGyver in a nearby river that was shallow but deep enough to envelope him completely in water. As they lowered him and he felt the water begin to surround him, he was under no illusions as to what they had planned. They were going to drown him, knowing that he was helpless, weighed down by the chains wrapped tightly around his body, his bones broken, his body weak and malnourished, his eyes covered with a blindfold and his mouth gagged. There was absolutely no way he could fight back or escape. He also knew that they weren’t going to kill him, but bring him to the brink of death, teasing him with the welcome oblivion only to cruelly deprive him of it at the last minute, pulling him from the river and reviving him so that he could suffer more torment at the hands of El Diablo. As the water enclosed around him and he heard nothing but the eerie silence of the watery world, his first instinct was to panic, desperately trying to hold his breath, but then he realized the effort was futile. A dark part of him wanted to be dead if it would allow him a reprieve from his suffering. Also, if he died, El Diablo would no longer be able to use him as a source of sadistic pleasure. The worst he could do was abuse his dead body, which was also unappealing but didn’t matter. His spirit, which had been imprisoned, would at last be free. He didn’t know how much he believed in the afterlife, but even if death meant nothingness it was preferable to his constant, unendurable pain. Slowly, even though a part of him still desperately wished to live, he allowed the water to invade his nostrils, filling his lungs… “I can’t feel any obstructions in his throat,” one of the nurses attending to MacGyver said as he continued to cough and gasp loudly. “We’ve tried the Heimlich, but…”
Dr. Ladd observed MacGyver carefully, noticing his eyes were closed. “He’s dreaming,” he said, thinking back to hearing from MacGyver in one of his early sessions about how El Diablo had simulated drowning as a part of his torture. “He’s experiencing one of his nightmares. I have to try to wake him.”
“Oh God,” Nikki said, almost tearful as she watched him struggle, rolling around on the floor, his complexion turning darker as more oxygen was denied from entering his body.
“I need you to stand back, Mrs. Carpenter, please,” Dr. Ladd said.
She nodded and did what he said, although it was extremely difficult for her. Rarely had she seen MacGyver in pain, even if it was imaginary. She had to resist a strong urge to hold and comfort him, knowing that heeding the psychiatrist’s advice was in MacGyver’s best interests. It seemed there was always an invisible gulf that separated them, never allowing either of them to get too close, watching helplessly and in misery.
“MacGyver! MacGyver, can you hear me?” Dr. Ladd shouted, shaking MacGyver and trying to wake him. “Listen to me! You’re having a nightmare! You have to wake up! You’re not breathing! MacGyver? Breathe for me, come on…that’s it…breathe…relax…come back…it’s fine now…yes, that’s it…” He sat his patient upright, gently rubbing and pounding on his back, continuing to speak in soothing tones.
Gradually, MacGyver began to breathe, inhaling deep gulps of air, greedily sucking it into his lungs, his eyes slowly opening.
“Thank God,” Nikki said. “Mac…”
Disoriented, MacGyver’s eyes wandered around the room, trying to make sense of what happened and how the river, El Diablo, and his henchmen had disappeared almost miraculously. He didn’t understand where he was, the room spinning wildly, dizziness remaining from the lack of oxygen, his vision blurred. Slowly, his eyesight returned, and he saw that he was in the familiar room of the psychiatric hospital, surrounded by Dr. Ladd and several nurses. His eyes wandered around the room some more as if to confirm where he now was, and he saw a distraught Nikki standing in the doorframe, watching him with deep pity.
“N-Nikki?” He asked, his voice faint.
Her features changed until she morphed into the woman with the syringe.
“He won’t remember a thing.” Even in his dazed mind, MacGyver remembered how Dr. Ladd encouraged him to speak to his illusions.
“W-who…are you…?” He asked, collapsing back to the floor.
“MacGyver!” Nikki said. Unable to control herself any longer, she rushed into the room by his side, cradling his head in her hands, gently stroking his wild hair.
Dr. Ladd felt his pulse. “It’s all right,” he said, looking up at the concerned hospital staff and Nikki. “He’s only sleeping. His pulse is returning to normal. Just in case I want intensive 24 hour monitoring on this room. Is that clear?”
“Yes Doctor,” one of the nurses said.
The staff slowly dispersed after carrying MacGyver to his bed and it seemed he would be fine again, leaving Nikki and Dr. Ladd alone with him.
“Tell me what just happened,” Nikki said, her tone demanding. She continued to comfort MacGyver.
“This behavior is exactly what I was reporting to you earlier,” Dr. Ladd said. “He cannot seem to understand that his nightmares and flashbacks exist only in his mind, causing him to re-enact them so powerfully.”
“He asked me who I was, yet he said my name. What do you think that means?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps he was still so confused by awakening from his nightmare that he didn’t now for sure who he was seeing, once again mistrusting his mind and his eyes.”
“Maybe…I guess you’re just going to have to keep working with him.”
“Yes. Meanwhile, I suggest we leave him. He needs to rest after that ordeal. You can come back to visit him tomorrow. Hopefully, his condition will improve from today.”
Nikki nodded, gently allowing MacGyver’s head to drop back onto the pillow. Unconsciously, like a mother, sister, or perhaps even a caring girlfriend, she fluffed the pillow around him, trying to make him as comfortable as possible.
“Goodbye Mac,” she whispered, kissing her hand and affectionately placing it on his warm forehead. “I’ll come back. Sleep well.”
Turning to leave with Dr. Ladd, she found it increasingly difficult to suppress her tears, wishing she could do more for him. Most of the time she tried to bury her emotions, not allowing memories of her dead husband upset her, proving to Pete and others that she was self-contained and could handle herself, that she was assertive and strong against adversity. Yet seeing MacGyver suffer that way, beyond anything she had ever seen or read about his torture, was a complete shock to her system. She admitted to herself that she had feelings for him, but she couldn’t define them. Seeing him that way only intensified those feelings.
***
“How was he?” Pete asked, meeting with Nikki back in his office.
“I’d never seen him that way,” Nikki said, staring blankly, still affected profoundly by what she had seen. “Pete, he was drowning—choking—in his sleep, but there was nothing restricting his breathing. He was reliving some form of El Diablo’s torture in a nightmare. If there hadn’t been medical staff nearby…he could have died or seriously harmed himself.”
“I told you,” Pete said. “It’s going to take a lot of work to bring him back, I’m afraid. Dr. Ladd is trying his best.”
“I know, but…”
“What is it?”
“Perhaps he’s missing something. Perhaps we all are.”
“Such as what?”
“MacGyver looked at me after coming out of his nightmare, but then it was almost as if he looked beyond me, at someone who wasn’t there. He spoke to whatever this vision was, asking it about its identity.”
“Dr. Ladd told me he’s been hallucinating,” Pete said. “He also told me about trying a technique where Mac would try to speak to those hallucinations to learn what they want and try to combat them.”
“All right, but who was it he was speaking to? It wouldn’t be El Diablo or any of his men, since he would unfortunately be well acquainted with them by that point. It might be related to his time in the desert.”
“How?”
Nikki shrugged. “Maybe he met someone in the desert, someone who wished him ill,” she said.
“You heard the report—
“I know. No physical harm found except for the sunburn. I know. Still, there’s something…” Nikki paced around the office, trying to collect her thoughts. She stopped and looked at Pete. “The next time I go to visit him, I want you to come with me.”
“I’d like to, but I’m afraid MacGyver will worry about harming me again.”
“If he does, the security staff will restrain him. Pete, you have to come. I think it’s necessary. We need to convince MacGyver to tell us who he was speaking to. He also needs to tell Dr. Ladd. It’s the only way we’re going to solve this and help him.”
“All right,” Pete said, knowing she was right. “I’ll come.”
***
The staff at the psychiatric hospital had grown used to hearing MacGyver’s anguished cries, knowing he was sleeping and having another nightmare, feeling the excruciating pain of his torture all over again. They had come to expect it, watching and listening for any changes in case there was an emergency and helping him as much as they could in their capacity, but otherwise remaining unconcerned. It had, sadly, become routine. What they heard next was not. Loud, repetitive thumps against the wall alerted them that something else, something far more serious, was happening to their inmate.
“Call Dr. Ladd and bring him down here now!” The head nurse shouted as medical staff scattered frantically along with security guards, preparing themselves for what they would find once they opened the door to MacGyver’s room.
The guards acted as a bulwark for the nurses as the door was slowly opened. MacGyver screamed and lunged at them, but they successfully held him back as he struggled violently.
“There’s blood on the walls,” one of them said.
The head nurse looked down at MacGyver’s scarred arm. He had managed to cut himself. “Be careful,” she said to the guards. “We don’t know how severely he’s damaged himself. Get ready to inject the sedative!” She shouted over her shoulder to another nurse, armed with a hypodermic needle.
El Diablo’s men were everywhere he turned, surrounding him. No matter what he did, he could not escape. He could barely move as they held him down… “I came as soon as I could,” Dr. Ladd said, smoothing his clothes, rumpled from sleep. “What’s happening now?”
“Doctor, he’s injured himself,” the head nurse said. “We don’t know how badly yet, but…”
“Work to sedate him as soon as possible.”
“We’re trying, but…”
The guards fought and MacGyver fought back, screaming and twisting in their arms. At last, the nurse with the hypodermic managed to inject the new dose of sedative…
The woman with the syringe returned. Flashes of him driving through the desert were interspersed with her image, the strange, unrelated pictures moving rapidly through his bewildered mind. “No…please…w-who…who are you…tell me…what’s going on…why am I seeing this…” MacGyver mumbled, drifting away into unconsciousness, the sedative taking effect quickly.
The guards gently placed him on the floor.
“He’s out,” the head nurse said. She examined his many cuts and fresh, new bruises. “Do you recommend restraints?”
“No,” Dr. Ladd said. “No. That will only make matters worse for him. He’ll think he’s back in confinement and bondage from his torture.” He looked down at his sleeping patient, regretting the action he had to take next but knowing he had no other choice now that he had harmed himself. “Place him in the padded isolation room.”
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
*hisses and scratches at Brandon* I hope a german elephant steps on you... several times!!! 
Isn't it kind of creepy when you find out that "supervised" mental patients manage to hurt themselves? It happens a lot in REAL life which obviously serve as inspiration for TV shows, movies and Books!!! A friend's relative cut his writs when he was under 24/7 observation! 
How in the world the man managed to get anything to cut himself with?!! That tells you how cunning patients can be when they get their minds into some idea. Aparently the relative of my friend bite his own wrists until he ripped the veins open! 
's along with healing. Okay that is my romantic side coming out.
Can't help myself when it comes to Mac. 
