Boy, the Thanksgiving weekend sure is providing me with ample time to churn these out! Thanks again to all my readers/fans for their support!
Speechless Part Six
Rated: PG
“As he continued signing, it was almost as if his ability to do that had broken down as well. I could no longer understand the signs he attempted to make, as if they had been scrambled into indecipherable gibberish also,” Pete said sadly.
“What’s happening to him? What’s going on?” Nikki asked.
They were in a private conference with Dr. Carrington and Dr. Ladd, removed from MacGyver’s presence so as not to upset him, although it wouldn’t have mattered anymore.
Dr. Carrington sighed. “It appears that he can still hear us, yet he is no longer able to comprehend what we say, just as we could not comprehend him,” he said. “It’s almost as if all pathways of communication are being systematically blocked, making any attempts to successfully reach him in any meaningful manner virtually impossible. I do not know how, but his condition could continue to worsen. I conducted more tests and found some rather startling results.”
“Such as what?” Pete asked.
“Somehow, his vocal chords are paralyzed, meaning he can no longer respond, even in the fragmented, broken language he was speaking earlier. He might as well not even have a tongue, as it has been rendered almost useless as well. Fortunately he can still swallow, otherwise he would choke.”
“Yet you can still find no medical cause?” Nikki asked.
“I’m afraid not,” Dr. Carrington said.
“And I’m afraid that my theory of post traumatic stress somehow causing this is rather unconvincing, yet it was all I had,” Dr. Ladd said. “Now, my efforts to find some believable explanation are completely stymied. I do know, however, if he continues to deteriorate, we may have to move him to a special care facility.”
“You’re not talking about the psychiatric hospital again, are you?” Pete asked, horrified.
“No, Mr. Thornton,” Dr. Ladd said. “As far as I can tell, he is not mentally impaired. He recognizes us and seems to know where he is. It is his ability to communicate that is severely impaired, beyond what it had been previously, making it difficult and frustrating to care for him, since he is unable to communicate his needs or understand what we say, limiting how well he can function. If he were to be placed in an environment where specialists who deal with all kinds of severe language disorders from Aphasia to brain damage and stroke victims, he might have a better chance at rehabilitation.”
Pete and Nikki exchanged disheartened glances.
“Of course we want what’s best for him,” Pete said, “but we would like some time to make a decision before we place him anywhere.”
“Of course.”
“He could still recover,” Nikki said.
“I don’t see how,” Dr. Carrington said.
“It has happened before. MacGyver has an extraordinary ability to overcome some of the greatest challenges and obstacles. We don’t know if there might be a possibility that he will return to normal, since we cannot diagnose exactly what’s wrong with him.”
“She’s right,” Dr. Ladd said. “He did after all regain his sanity after it seemed hopeless.”
“Then I suppose we wait and monitor his situation,” Dr. Carrington said.
“Yes, however, I wouldn’t recommend waiting too long,” Dr. Ladd said. “If he does not improve, he should be moved to where he can receive proper, specialized care and treatment. Otherwise, he could suffer greatly and the damage could be irreparable. Even though he is unable to communicate, he still needs someone to work with him to keep that part of his brain active so that there is a chance he can speak and understand us again.”
Pete nodded. “Could you gentlemen excuse us for a moment?” He asked, looking at Nikki, noticing the eagerness in her expression. “We have something we need to discuss in private. When we’re finished, we’d like to see MacGyver again, if we could.”
“Of course. We’ll be waiting in the hall. When you’re ready to visit him, just let us know,” Dr. Carrington said.
They waited until the doctors had left the room and closed the door before they began.
“Pete, don’t you see what’s happening here?” Nikki asked. “His condition grew worse just as he was about to tell us something vital to Nucci’s safety.”
“I know,” Pete said. “I noticed that, too.”
“The same thing happened when he lost control of his sanity. He only descended further into madness when he tried to tell us something important, as if the drug was controlling him, preventing him from giving us any useful information. The same thing is happening here. Whoever did this to him must have known he would try to find any means necessary to communicate what he knows, and they had to design a drug that could effectively shut down any attempts he made, no matter how basic, so that their plans could not be discovered.”
Pete was quiet for a moment, contemplating the absolute cruelty, efficiency, and sophistication of the methods these men operating in the shadows employed, once again ensnaring MacGyver.
“What do we do?” He asked.
“We keep working with MacGyver and see if there is still a way to get through to him,” Nikki said. “We can’t give up on him. He would want us to find a solution. After all, I don’t need to remind you that Nucci’s visit is scheduled for only a day from now. We’re running out of time and options, and we must do everything we can to stop a devastating tragedy before it ever has a chance to succeed.”
“You’re right,” Pete said. “Let’s tell the doctors we’re ready to see him again.”
***
MacGyver paced the hospital room until his feet seemed to wear a dull finish into the tiled floor. There was nothing he could do, trapped inside his own nightmarish existence. He tried reading to ease his anxiety and discomfort, but the words on the page were scrambled and inverted, blotches and blurs to his eyes. Watching the television in his room was also nearly impossible as he couldn’t understand what they were saying, constant local news reports about Prime Minister Nucci’s visit further distressing him, wondering how he was ever going to tell Pete and Nikki what he knew now, his tongue almost paralyzed, his vocal chords stilled. Even if he could speak again, they wouldn’t understand him, and he now couldn’t understand their senseless babbling. Sign language was now an ineffective tool, his signs becoming awkward and clumsy to the point where he knew they no longer carried any meaning, either, his hands cramping any time he tried to make them. His powerlessness frightened him, and he began to wonder if the assassins would prevail and manage to kill Nucci, after all. Despondent, feeling trapped and helpless, he stared blankly out the window of his hospital room down at the city that sprawled beneath him, imagining the prime minister’s arrival with fear and dread. His head turned when he heard Pete and Nikki enter the room.
“Aw Mac,” Pete said, embracing him tightly.
Sighing deeply, MacGyver held him, still not understanding the brief few words he had just spoken.
If only I could tell you what’s going to happen, he thought.
I don’t know how. I don’t know how to stop them. Oh God, help me… Pete released him and Nikki grabbed his hand, clutching it tightly. “Can you understand us at all?” She asked.
They watched as he stared at them, bewildered and terrified.
“It doesn’t appear that he can,” Pete said sadly.
“We have to try,” Nikki said, once again squeezing MacGyver’s hand in support.
“I know, but I don’t know what to do. I can’t think of anything.”
Pete’s pager beeped. Picking it up, he read the number and recognized it as belonging to The Phoenix Foundation. He had been expecting an important call all day concerning the final preparations for Prime Minister Nucci’s security, a progress report on the job Nikki had done. He wished he had something more substantial to tell them, that he could guarantee Nucci’s safety, but now he wasn’t so sure, and the information they needed to stop the assassination was locked away inside MacGyver’s mind. He wasn’t looking forward to speaking with the board about it, but he also knew he couldn’t ignore their call.
“Nikki, I’m sorry, but I have to take this phone call,” he said, looking at the lost and confused MacGyver. “Can you stay here with him? I’ll be back as soon as I can. Keep trying to think of a way we can get through to him.”
“Of course, Pete,” Nikki said, looking up at MacGyver, into his haunting dark eyes. “You know I wouldn’t leave him, especially not in this state.”
“Thank you.” He looked at MacGyver, unsure how to tell him he was leaving. He embraced him again for a long time, soothing him, stroking his scarred back, listening to him breathe, the only sound he could now make. Releasing him again, he looked directly at him, tears threatening. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but I have to leave for a minute. I’ll be back, though. I promise.”
MacGyver frowned at him, struggling to understand. He tried reading Pete’s lips, but they moved out of synch as if poorly dubbed from a foreign film. He shook his head.
Unable to bear it any longer, Pete decided the only way to tell him he was leaving was to actually begin heading for the door. As he did this, though, MacGyver grew more upset, reaching for his hand and grabbing it, trying to stop him, his eyes pleading.
“It’s okay, MacGyver,” Nikki said.
“I’ll be right back,” Pete said, smiling to reassure him even though there were tears in his eyes as it pained him to see MacGyver so wounded and afraid. “I promise. I’m not going far.”
“I’m staying here with you,” Nikki said, smiling at him as well, placing her hands gently on his shoulders. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be all right.”
MacGyver looked at both of them, struggling once again to understand them but failing. Now he understood the frustrations a dog must feel when being trained, unused to the human language, all of it sounding like pointless utterances to their ears.
“You are nothing but a useless, disobedient dog, aren’t you?” El Diablo’s voice echoed from the past as he was lead by a chain around his neck, the stinging lash of the whip constantly assailing his back. Shuddering, MacGyver returned to the present, reading the calm, smiling expressions of his friends and deciding to interpret them to mean that everything was fine, that they weren’t going to abandon him. Still, he hated to see Pete leave. He needed him as much as he needed Nikki to get through this. He let go of Pete’s hand and watched him leave, wondering where he was going, knowing from the sound of the pager that he must have had an important phone call that he needed to return immediately. He saw his friend wipe a tear away from his face before he left, and MacGyver had to fight to suppress tears as well.
“MacGyver, look at me,” Nikki said, cupping her hands around his face, looking into the sorrowful depths of his eyes. “Listen to me. We have to try to work on this together. I know you can’t understand me, but you have to try. You have to try to communicate with us. Come on, Mac. I know you can do it. You have to tell us what’s going to happen to Prime Minister Nucci somehow.”
MacGyver shook his head, showing her that he still couldn’t understand a word she said. Releasing a sob, he fell into her arms, making wet sounds with his limp tongue, the only sounds he could now make as he fought to speak again. He looked at Nikki with a mournful, pitiful expression and began kissing her, pressing her tightly against him.
“Oh MacGyver,” Nikki said, gasping when the kissing was over. “MacGyver, I love you so much.”
She kissed him back, running her hands through his hair. MacGyver continued to hold her, his body trembling with sobs. He was lost, alone, and afraid, and his only connection to her, the only form of communication she could understand, was his kiss. He didn’t know what else to do. He loved her, and the kiss comforted him, reduced his fears and made him feel as if he belonged to humanity again, not separated by language or his inability to speak or comprehend. He wanted her to know through his kiss that he cared for her, that he was trying hard and doing all he could, that he would forgive her if she couldn’t stop Nucci’s assassination in time, that the guilt rested solely on him, on his failure to transmit the message in time.
Nikki, I’m sorry. If there was only a way I could tell you what’s about to happen. If only you knew. If only I could tell you. If only I could make you understand me… He took her hand in his, wrapping his long fingers around it when a new idea occurred to him. Turning her palm so it faced upward, he took his index finger and began tapping on it so she could feel it, so she could begin to understand his purpose.
“What is this? What are you doing?” She asked. Remembering that MacGyver couldn’t understand her or respond to her, she waited, watching as he continued to tap his finger on her palm. She began to feel the rhythm to it, some of the taps longer, others briefer. “It’s Morse Code,” she said. “Oh my God, it’s Morse Code! The doctors and whoever did this to you are wrong! You can still communicate! MacGyver, this is amazing!” She touched MacGyver’s cheek and he looked at her. She nodded and smiled, showing him she knew what he was doing. “I’ll have to write this down so I can decipher it later, though,” she said.
MacGyver continued tapping on her palm, staring, oblivious to her words. Thinking of a way to tell him what she needed to do, she took hold of the hand he was using to tap on her palm and squeezed it, telling him to stop for a moment. MacGyver resisted her at first, pulling away and trying to tap on her palm again, but Nikki gently guided him to look at her and shook her head. She directed his hand to the nearby window ledge and moved it up and down, indicating that she wanted him to tap on a hard surface. Looking around for a pen, she found one in her purse and showed it to him, pointing at herself and making a writing gesture. She then pointed at him again and moved his hand up and down. Nodding, at last understanding her meaning, MacGyver smiled at her.
“I’ll write while you tap,” she said, even though he couldn’t follow her words. “I think this will work.”
She fished around her purse and found a small writing pad that she used to take notes and flipped it to a fresh page. MacGyver watched her, waiting until she was ready before he began again. When he saw that her pen was poised over the blank page, ready to write, he started to tap again, slowly so that she would get every single piece of the code.
Now all I can hope is that my code makes sense, that it hasn’t been scrambled somehow as well, he thought.
This has to work. She has to know before it’s too late. This is my last chance. I have to tell her. This is the only way. She has to know…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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