I know you've been waiting for this part for awhile--so have I!
I had a busy week. Anyway, it's ready for your reading pleasure now! Enjoy!
When He Wakes…
Part Six
Rated: R
Nikki couldn’t help but release an audible, surprised gasp when she saw the dark, finger-shaped bruises marking Dr. Ladd’s neck.
“MacGyver did that to you?” She asked.
Dr. Ladd inclined his head slightly in affirmation. “You must understand that he was suffering from another flashback episode and was unaware of his actions,” he said. “None of it was intentional.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t, but are you all right?”
Dr. Ladd smiled ruefully, revealing the creases in his skin and the world-weariness of a man who had witnessed all forms of fractured humanity during his years of service in the mental health profession.
“It looks worse than it actually is,” he said. “I’ll be fine. There’s no risk of any permanent damage.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Nikki said. She glanced warily at the door to the padded room where MacGyver was still being kept.
“I can tell you’re apprehensive about visiting him at this juncture, but there really is nothing to fear. He’s being medicated and monitored closely. I assure you no harm will come to you.”
Nikki sighed, forcing back tears. She hated that she had to get permission to see a close friend, a man she had known for years, a man who would never harm anyone but who now had been transformed into an unpredictable, dangerous mental patient that required constant surveillance and the calming, steadying influence of drugs to remain under control.
“No, it’s okay,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “I want to see him. I’m ready.”
Nodding soberly, Dr. Ladd removed his set of keys to the room and was prepared to unlock it when Nikki stopped him.
“Wait,” she said, touching his arm. “Before I go in there, I meant to ask you…have you learned anything new from him? Anything that might explain this?”
Dr. Ladd looked up at her, arching an eyebrow. “You mean, the woman with the syringe you told me about?” He asked.
“Yes.”
“He still mentions it, and still claims he sees her. Now, he also sees a room where he is strapped to a table of some kind. The details are still scarce, but he’s trying to fill in the gaps.”
“What do you think that could mean?”
Dr. Ladd shrugged. “It’s possible that someone could have psychologically manipulated him somehow, or it could be that he’s confusing memories of his medical treatment with his torture. I just don’t know for certain. I guess I will just have to keep working with him,” he said.
“Right,” Nikki said, absently touching the door with her fingertips, tapping on it. It felt unbelievably cold and uninviting, the reinforced steel shutting out all warmth. “I guess Pete and I will have to keep working on it, too.”
Dr. Ladd was about to turn the key in the door again when he stopped and placed his hand firmly on Nikki’s shoulder in a supportive gesture. He looked into her eyes and offered a reassuring smile.
“Listen, I know this isn’t a normal situation by any means and it’s difficult to see him this way, but be patient with him. Speak to him in a way that will comfort him so he won’t feel so lost and alone. Let him know that he has people who care about him and are working hard on his behalf to help him get well and to solve this, people who won’t abandon him. Sometimes, a torture victim feels he cannot make any meaningful emotional connections or attachments to anyone again, his agency and free will having been deprived of him for so long,” he said. “They experience a kind of psychic deadness where nothing matters to them anymore, which is why trying to discover the source of the woman with the syringe has been a long, challenging process. On some level, he wants to know, but another part of him doesn’t care about anything anymore. He’s lost in a world of flashbacks and terror, desperately trying to fight his way out of it.”
Nikki nodded, once again holding back tears. “I understand,” she said.
Turning back to the door, Dr. Ladd at last unlocked it. “Remember, should anything happen, we have adequate security personnel to restrain him if necessary,” he said. He opened the door slowly, allowing Nikki to enter. “Let us know if you need anything, Mrs. Carpenter,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said, cautiously entering the padded room, watching as the door was closed securely behind her, locking her in the room with a madman, a madman who just happened to be her friend and colleague. This time, visiting him seemed like more of a risk than before, his violent tendencies growing stronger. She turned at last to look at him, finding him huddled in the corner of the padded room, his knees drawn up to his chest, staring vacantly. She approached him carefully, sitting down beside him. “Hello Mac,” she said, fighting back more tears.
Despite the hospital staff’s best efforts to bathe him, trim his hair, and shave him, he still had the wild, scruffy, unkempt look of a man whose sanity was steadily declining. Part of the shirt of his white hospital uniform was lifted, exposing some of the jagged, ugly scars that lined his torso, remnants of his torture. His arms bore fresh scratches, bruises, and bandages. The medication they gave him made him lose concentration and energy, leaving him listless, unmotivated, and unable or unwilling to do little more than stare blankly. It required all the strength Nikki had to battle her emotions seeing him in such a pitiful state.
“So…are they treating you okay in here?” she asked, doing her best to defuse the tension and awkwardness she felt.
“I suppose,” MacGyver said. He continued to stare blankly ahead, refusing to look at her. His tone was flat, and he released a mournful sigh. “Better than I deserve.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“You shouldn’t be in here with me. I might hurt you.”
Nikki attempted a smile. “I’ll take my chances,” she said.
For the first time, MacGyver turned to look at her. The lost, troubled expression in his dark eyes was unsettling, making her wish he had remained staring at nothing instead. She almost felt she could fall into the abyss of those unnerving eyes, drowning in their immense sorrow and tears.
“One hundred fifteen pounds,” he said. “That’s how much I weighed when they found me. Did you know that? I shouldn’t have been alive, but El Diablo managed the impossible. That was his expertise. That’s what he’d do. He’d bring you so close to death only to deny its relief from you. He was never going to let me die. He was going to keep me in a constant state of torment where I could beg for death, but it would never come to me…”
“Don’t say that,” Nikki said, holding back tears and gently stroking his arm, trying to avoid the scratches and bandages. “You didn’t want to die, MacGyver. I don’t believe that. Not even during your most desperate, painful moments. Your will to live is too strong.”
“Why should I want to live?” MacGyver asked, turning away from her and staring again. She saw a tear slide down his profile, glistening in the harsh, artificial light of the padded room. “I saw the bruises around Dr. Ladd’s neck. I know I caused them. I could have killed him. Everything I touch, I destroy—including myself.”
“Stop talking that way,” Nikki said. “Stop acting as if you’re cursed or a bad human being. You’re not, Mac. You don’t want to hurt anyone. You’re not a destructive man—you’re a creative man, a good man. You’re just having some temporary difficulties right now. Everything will sort itself out eventually. I promise.”
MacGyver didn’t respond, still staring into the distance.
“You know, I seem to recall that more than one of your inventive, improvised gizmos has gotten us out of a jam, even when at the time I thought they were preposterous and wouldn’t work. I wouldn’t call that the work of a man who was resigned to his fate, feeling the situation was hopeless. No—you found a way out. You always do. I know you can do that now. Please, MacGyver…don’t give up on me. Don’t give up on Pete or Dr. Ladd. We need you back. We want to see you healthy and functioning again. You can work this out—I know you can. You have the intelligence and the ability.”
Distracted, his mind in a haze from his medication, MacGyver began to probe the padded walls with his hands, feeling surrounded and trapped by the monotonous white in the room as if it was slowly closing in on him. He felt as if he was buried, hidden away. Even with Nikki present in the room, he still felt separated from her by a cocoon of white padding, her sanity keeping her outside his experience, unable to relate to it.
“Dr. Ladd tells me you’re still seeing this woman with the syringe,” Nikki said, trying to get him to focus again.
“He won’t remember a thing…” Hearing the woman’s voice echo in the room caused MacGyver to pay attention to Nikki’s questions.
“Yes,” he said. “There’s…a man there, too, in the room. I’m…strapped to some table, there’s a bright light…the woman with the syringe, and this man…he’s younger than she is.”
“Can you see him?”
MacGyver squeezed his dry, burning eyes shut and shook his head. “No,” he said. “I mean…not clearly…I’ve tried, but…he’s near her, on the other side of the table, obscured by the dark in the rest of the room…occasionally, he’s in the light, but…but I…”
He began to drag his fingernails across his skin again. Although the hospital staff had tried to pare his nails down to such a short length that they couldn’t cause damage, he broke the skin anyway, causing it to bleed. He shivered and squirmed, as if trying to get something off of him, something that was unpleasant.
“MacGyver, stop that,” Nikki said. “What are you doing?”
“Bugs,” he whispered. “They’re all over me. Get them off me! They’re crawling all over me!”
“There’s nothing there,” Nikki said calmly.
“Don’t you see them?” MacGyver asked in a small, frightened voice. “They’re everywhere…”
Nikki didn’t understand why he was twitching and feeling the tingling sensation of bugs crawling all over his skin that weren’t there. It seemed almost as if he was having some kind of withdrawal symptom from an addictive drug instead of a hallucination or flashback, but then she remembered. It was filed in the official report of his torture, something that she had been privileged to read because of her high security clearance. Had she not had that permission, she would never have understood, the report highly sensitive and classified. To have fun with him, El Diablo and his men threw insects and snakes inside the hole where they kept him bound tightly in chains, knowing he would have no recourse, no way to remove them as they crawled all over him, causing unpleasant, creepy, endless tickling sensations. It was minor in comparison to all they had subjected him to, but it only added to his misery and discomfort, which was something El Diablo wanted, no matter how small the form of torture was. As MacGyver continued to split open his flesh with his nails, Nikki tried to stop him, grabbing his wrists. MacGyver tried to jerk away from her.
“N-no…no…” he said. “Please stop…let go of me…please…” his eyes filled with tears. “I have to get rid of them…I have to…they’re everywhere…”
From his point of view, the padded room was filled with the offending creatures, climbing the walls, slithering around Nikki.
“They’re all over you, too,” he said. “I have to get them away from here!”
“MacGyver, listen to me,” Nikki said, using all her available strength to hold his wrists as he struggled. “MacGyver, look at me!” She shouted, hoping that would jolt him back into coherence and reality.
Slowly, MacGyver began to relax, his breathing regulating, his body growing less tense. He stopped fighting Nikki, and she released his wrists, allowing his hands to drop to his sides. No longer did he feel the urge to scratch himself. He looked around the room. Somehow, the insects had disappeared. Nikki suppressed more tears as she watched him, knowing that had he not been on medication he might have become much more violent. She would have been the next unwitting target of his aggression, and she knew he would never forgive himself if he had hit her—a woman. It was hard enough for him to accept that he had beaten Pete and strangled Dr. Ladd, but to strike a woman, not to mention a woman he was close to despite his conflicted feelings about her…he was a gentleman above all else despite his idiosyncrasies and sometimes unorthodox methods, and he would never be able to accept that.
“That’s right,” Nikki said in a soothing tone, gently cupping his face in her hands, turning him towards her. “It’s over now.”
“W-where…where did they go? They were in here…right here…I know it…”
“I know, but they’re gone now, okay? It’s all right. It’s all right...”
She supposed it would have been more difficult for her to deal with his flashback had she not had a grandmother with Alzheimer’s, some of her behavior similar, some of it worse. At least MacGyver still knew who she was. It was these past experiences that gave her the fortitude to handle tragedies in the present. Still, it was never easy to see someone’s mind begin to slip. She hoped MacGyver could recover his before he lost it completely. She looked down at his new scratches. They weren’t too deep, but they were bleeding.
“I need to get you some new bandages for those,” she said, wiping away tears from her eyes before they fell.
Before she could stand, MacGyver reached out and grabbed her hand. “No,” he said. “Please…stay with me for awhile.”
She was pleased and somewhat touched that he wanted her around, even though they usually had such a contentious relationship. She supposed he was tired of being alone in that bare room, isolated from all human contact except from his psychiatrist and the occasional visit of either Pete or her. He wanted to take advantage of it as long as he could.
“I’m…sorry…” he said. “What I did…I can’t control it for some reason…so real…”
“There’s no need to apologize,” she said. “I’m happy to keep you company for awhile.”
MacGyver attempted a smile. “How are things?” He asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You know…with you, the Foundation. I miss it, Nikki. Oh God, I miss it.”
“I know you do. You’ll be back soon, though, I know it. You have to believe that, too,” she said. “As a matter of fact, we could use you now more than ever.”
“Why? What’s happening?”
Nikki sighed. “Several of our top agents were killed in a bridge explosion in East Germany while on assignment,” she said. “Pete suspects sabotage.”
“You mean…all of them died?”
“Yes. Apparently, somebody was expecting them.” She paused. “Actually, well…that’s not entirely accurate. One of the men survived.”
“Who?”
“Brandon Scott.”
MacGyver frowned, searching his fragile mind. “I don’t think I know him,” he said.
“No, you wouldn’t. He’s a new recruit.”
“What does he look like?” MacGyver asked. He was unsure why he asked, but somehow it seemed important to him. He couldn’t explain why. There was an uneasy feeling in his gut about this man.
“Well, he kind of looks like you, believe it or not,” Nikki said, smiling. “You should be flattered—or embarrassed. He wants to be like you. He dresses like you. He’s younger though, about 5’ 8” tall, hazel eyes, kind of a small nose…his features are a little bit pinched. Why do you want to know?”
MacGyver thought back to the man he saw in his vision along with the woman, the syringe, and the examination table. He struggled to see the man again, only to find nothing but shadows and cobwebs in his memory.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Just curious, I guess.”
“Well, Pete is very upset with him,” she said. “Did you know he wasn’t even injured in the blast or discovered by the enemy? It all sounds very suspicious. Pete doesn’t have enough evidence to prove anything yet, but he’s trying.”
“So you think this…Brandon might have been involved somehow?”
Nikki shrugged. “It’s a possibility,” she said. “We’re looking at all angles in the case, leaving nothing out of our range of investigation.”
“I wish I could help,” MacGyver said, looking around the padded room.
“You can help, Mac,” Nikki said. “Keep working on these visions you’ve been seeing. I know it’s difficult, but try to remember more. There might be a clue somewhere to tell us why this is happening to you. The woman with the syringe might be linked to all of this somehow. See if you can learn the identity of the man, too.”
“I’ll try,” MacGyver said, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “but every time I try, his face just grows more and more distant, and then I get lost…”
“By lost, do you mean you experience another flashback?”
“Yes.”
Nikki paused for a moment, considering what he said. “All right,” she said at last. “Then take it slowly, all right? Don’t strain to remember. Just do what you can. If we can figure out why you’ve been seeing that, we might be a step closer to solving this and getting you out of here. Keep talking to Dr. Ladd, as well.”
A concerned expression creased MacGyver’s face and he stared at the floor, thinking about what she was saying.
“You’ll be fine, Mac,” she said, patting him gently on the shoulder. “I know you will. Just keep trying.”
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
I am glad Pete is
Yay for MacsChick and another great episode!! 
