Well, we're finally getting to the end, folks. Only one more installment after this. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me thus far and made comments along the way. It makes the stress and sleep loss of the writing process almost worth it
Bander
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MacGyver was in limbo. Neither asleep nor awake, he merely existed in a murky, barren world. Lifeless and gray, the fog-shrouded landscape was featureless as far as the eye could see. The air was oppressive, the intense heat making it difficult to breathe. Sweat rolled down his face in rivulets and soaked his clothes. Needing to escape the stifling heat Mac tried to stand, but his limbs were too heavy and his muscles too weak. He was trapped.
Exhausted, Mac collapsed onto his back, dust from the parched ground billowing up around him. He gazed up at the milky sky, watching as the dense fog swirled overhead. It would have been a mesmerizing sight if not for the extreme temperature. He pulled a ragged breath into aching lungs and shut his eyes, his resolve slowly fading away.
This must be Hell…he thought, although the scenery was nothing like pop culture would have him believe. There were no fiery pits, red men with forked tongues, or boiling rivers of lava, just vast planes of emptiness and noxious, sultry heat. He had no recollection of his arrival, his last memories being of playing chess with Pete in the park.
No, not the park…it was a garden…a garden surrounded by walls…a building…a hospital. I was sick… Mac opened his eyes and stared into the nothingness.
I was having headaches…I needed surgery…but they said it went well…maybe it didn’t. Maybe I… An overwhelming surge of heat flashed through his body.
I’ve gotta get outta here… Gritting his teeth in effort, MacGyver rolled over onto his hands and knees. Panting for sufficient oxygen in the dense atmosphere, he wiped the sweat from his eyes and searched the horizon.
Water…he thought, his throat feeling raw and swollen from excessive thirst.
I need water…As if by magic, the telltale rippling shine of water appeared off in the distance. At first Mac thought he was delusional, his overheated mind creating images of the one thing that would bring him relief. But then he smelt it; the cool, clean, refreshing scent that could only be described as water. Gathering all of his strength, he began to half crawl, half pull his way across the desolate, dust-choked earth.
MacGyver toiled on for what seemed like days. No matter how far he progressed, the water never grew any closer. His hands and knees were bruised and bloodied from the rough ground, but he felt little pain. His mind and body were numb, his focus set on reaching the shimmering pool ahead. Although the air remained unbelievably hot, he no longer perspired; his weakened body plagued with violent shivers as if he were chilled.
His strength failing, the troubleshooter came to a stop and scanned the horizon.
No…that’s impossible… he thought, finding himself to be no closer to the water’s edge then when he first started. Balancing on trembling arms, he watched in disbelief as the pool continued to grow further away, the land itself seeming to move. Between the heaviness in his limbs and the unbearable heat, there was no way he could keep up. Defeated, MacGyver unlocked his braced elbows and crumpled to the ground.
I’m finished…I tried to make it, but I can’t…I just can’t…Lying face down in the dirt, Mac shut his eyes, no longer wanting to see the depressing world around him. He’d never considered himself a quitter. Throughout his life, he’d conquered many perilous situations with confidence and flair. Even with all the risk-taking and slapdash decisions he’d made, he’d never met his match – at least until now. Where ever or whatever this place was, it was clear he wasn’t meant to leave. The preverbal end had come, and there was nothing he could do but accept it.
Despite the overwhelming heat, MacGyver curled himself into a protective ball. Whatever force had been shielding him from feeling pain was starting to fade, a deep ache settling first into his muscles and then his bones. His head throbbed and his chest burned, his laboring heart and lungs starting to show their fatigue. Realizing there was no use in fighting, Mac did the only thing he could – gave up.
//…He’s starting to shut down…//
//…I know…//
//…I thought…I really believed we had this beat…//
//I know…I did too…//Two familiar voices rumbled like thunder across the barren plane. Certain it was another cruel trick, MacGyver never moved.
//…If I had just come in myself that morning…none of this would have even happened…//
//…You don’t know that for sure, Ferris. You can’t blame yourself…//
Ferris…? He thought, the name catching his attention.
//…I should have monitored him more closely…I’m sorry, Pete…//
Pete…! Mac’s eyes shot open at the mention of his friend’s name.
//...It’s not your fault…you’ve done everything you can…I just wish…//The troubleshooter waited for Pete to continue, but he never did. He called out, wanting to let him know he was there, but his own voice wouldn’t work. His throat was full of dust and sand, causing him to literally choke on his words. By the time he regained some semblance of control, the booming voices were gone, and he was alone once again in the strange world. MacGyver’s heart sank. What little hope he’d gained from hearing Ferris and Pete vanished as quickly as it had come. His instincts were right – it
had been a trick, just like the water.
Mac grimaced as his heart gave a fluttering skip. As exhaustion overwhelmed his senses, he said a silent goodbye to his friends and shut his eyes for what he believed to be the final time.
//…MacGyver…?//Pete’s voice rolled across the fog obscured sky. As real as it seemed, Mac ignored his boss’s call, not willing to be deceived again.
//…MacGyver…I don’t know if you can hear me or not, but I want you to know something… you…you’ve been like a son to me. Michael and I never really bonded when he was young. I suppose it was mostly my fault for not being there for him, but our differences always seemed to cause a fight. We just never could agree on anything… // What…? Mac couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He’d known Pete’s relationship with his son was rocky, but he never realized how much it bothered him. Still unsure as to who or what he was hearing, he focused his declining energy on listening to the god-like voice.
//…You and I though, we hit it off practically the moment we met. We may not see eye to eye on everything, but we don’t let our differences stand in the way of our friendship. We share interests and watch out for each other…sometimes I even think you know more about me than I know about myself. While I wish it could have had that kind of a relationship with my son, I’m grateful to have shared one with you…//The voice paused and there was a brief gust of wind, almost like the fog itself was sighing.
//…You’ve got to keep fighting, Mac. I know you’re getting tired, but you just have to stick with it a little while longer. Your infection’s weakening – the antibiotics are starting to work. It may not seem like it yet, but Ferris says your blood work is showing signs of improvement. Aspen keeps telling me not to get my hopes up. He doesn’t believe you have enough strength left, but I do. I know you’re not a quitter. I’ve seen you do some amazing things even after everyone else has given up. Please, Mac, don’t let this beat you. Not now. Not when you’re so close…//The sensation of his hand being squeezed caused MacGyver to jerk. He opened his eyes, half expecting to see a ghostly hand wrapped around his own, but nothing was there. Although he found the otherworldly contact to be disturbing, he didn’t try to pull away. For as strange as the feeling was, it was also vaguely familiar.
He felt the pressure across his fingers became stronger and more real. His weakness slowly faded, replaced by revitalizing wisps of energy.
Okay…this is a little weird…he thought, slowly getting to his hands and knees. His arms shook with fatigue and his aching head swarmed, but he managed to stay up.
//…There’s nothing more you can do for him…?//
//…I’m afraid not… up to him now…//Mac felt the invisible hand increase its grip even more.
‘Stick with it…not a quitter…up to him…’ His friends’ words echoed in his head. He looked up and gazed into the distance, catching sight of the elusive pool glinting on the horizon. It was so far away. His strength may have been mysteriously returning, but he still felt miserable. He recalled on of the voices mentioning an infection.
That would certainly explain a few things…He rocked back on his heels and cleaned the dirt from his face with his sleeve. Trying to reach the water again was tempting, but the awful heat and his struggling body held him back. Just moments before he had been ready to die, eager to end his pain and leave this hellish world behind. Hearing Pete’s heartfelt plea, however, made him realize surrendering now after he’d been given a second chance would be taking the easy way out. And that was something he just didn’t do.
MacGyver looked back toward the pool, trying to gauge its distance. The angle was deceptive, but it had to be at least several miles. Based on the amount of time it had taken him to come this far and his rapidly deteriorating condition, he knew the odds weren’t in his favor.
But as long as I’m still breathing… he thought, returning to his hands and knees. Mac drew in a wheezy lungful of air as he mentally prepared himself for the journey ahead. This time he wouldn’t go down without a fight.
Locking his gaze firmly on the horizon, Mac set out in the direction of the pool. He had scarcely gone ten feet when he pulled back in surprise, his hand meeting cold water instead of sand.
What the…? The pool literally had appeared at his fingertips. Puzzled, but taking no chances, Mac plunged head first into the water. He swam fast and deep, relishing the icy chill of the water against his overheated skin. When he had gone down as far as his tired body would take him, he stopped and looked back toward the surface. Shining down through the rippling distortion of the waves, he saw what appeared to be the sun shimmering overhead.
The sun? There wasn’t one before… Curious, MacGyver swam toward the mottled light. As he neared the surface, he began to hear the echoing voices of his friends, their garbled words becoming clearer as he went.
//…Something’s happening…//
//…I know…I see it too…//
//…What is it…?//
//…I don’t know yet…//
//…Is it something good…?//
//…I don’t know…//Mac broke the surface and was instantly blinded by the brilliant light. A startled cry rose and caught in his throat, causing him to choke and panic. Flailing violently in the water, he struggled to stay afloat, fighting to pull enough air into his lungs. Invisible hands roughly grabbed and held his body, threatening to push him below the surface of the pool.
//…MacGy…!//
//Hold…down!//
//What’s…?//
// Pete…back..//
//Is he…right?//
//…pillow. I’m…//
//… too soon…//
//…no choice…he’s…//MacGyver abruptly found himself on dry land. With the last of his deteriorating strength, he tried fiercely to resist as hands held his limbs and head, but it was no use. His mouth was forced open and something hard shifted against his throat. He coughed and choked, struggling to regain control over his spastic breathing.
//…mask…5 mg…//Drowsiness doused his panic a moment later. He tried to fight it, but the pull was too strong. Exhausted, he offered no resistance when something was gently fitted over his mouth and nose, a welcoming rush of cool air soothing his sore, burning lungs. As he relaxed further, the upsetting images of the barren world slowly faded away. The fog-streaked sky morphed into a gray ceiling, and four solid walls fell into place. He was lying on a cushioned surface beneath a bright light, surrounded by blurry shapes that resembled people.
“MacGyver?”
A ghostly face appeared in front of his own, their eyes the only feature visible above a shroud of white.
“Can you hear me?”
The female voice was familiar, and he racked his clouded brain for her name. “Fe…Fer…” he tried to say, the words catching painfully against his raw throat.
The blurry doctor placed a hand on his arm. “Shh, I don’t want you to talk. You’ve been on a ventilator for the last 72 hours, so you’re throat’s going to be sore. You’ve been very sick with a severe infection. You developed an abscess at your surgical site that we had to drain. It’s been touch and go ever since, but your fever just broke and that’s a good sign.”
“Hey, kiddo.”
Mac shifted his gaze toward the blurry figure beside Ferris. Even though he could only see the person’s eyes, he knew immediately who it was. “Pete.”
“You gave me one hell of scare. I thought for sure I was going to lose you.”
You have no idea how close it came… Mac slid his hand from beneath the cooling blanket and weakly reached up for his friend. “Thanks.”
“For what?” Pete asked, giving his colleague’s fingers a familiar squeeze.
“Showing me…the way back,” he uttered hoarsely.
“That was all you, Mac. You came through when others said it was impossible. Just like I knew you could.”
“You brought me the water.”
“I did what?”
“I felt your hand…you brought me…” He wanted to say more, but his mouth seemed to have disconnected from his brain and his eyes refused to stay open.
“What’s he talking about?” Pete asked, his voice sounding further and further away.
“I don’t know. Some confusion is expected – he’s been through a lot these past few days,” Ferris replied.
“No, it was…real…”
“Shh,” Ferris shushed, resting a hand against his forehead. “I want you to rest now, sweetie. You still have a long road ahead of you, but we’re here to help.”
“The worst is over with, Mac. You’re going to be all right.”
Comforted by Pete’s reassurance, MacGyver finally surrendered to the pull of exhaustion. Embracing the darkness, he slipped past the threshold of dreams and fell into a deep, healing sleep.
*
Almost a week after nearly succumbing to his infection, MacGyver was back in room 604 on the oncology floor. He had left the ICU the day before after being cleared by Franklin and Dr. Aspen. Both physicians were pleased with his progress, Aspen even admitting he was quite surprised by his improvement. As far as they both could tell, he had suffered no lasting damage from his ordeal, and they expected him to make a full recovery over time.
Time is a given, but what about patience? Mac thought, dropping wearily onto the bed. He was tired, worn out from his first session of physical therapy. Ferris had signed him up when he began to ask about going home, choosing a therapist who specialized in reconditioning after an illness. His appointment went well, but his weakened body had left him feeling discouraged.
Normally a ten-minute ride on a stationary bike wouldn’t be a big deal. Today however, it had nearly done him in. He’d wanted to rest and do some more, but his therapist wouldn’t let him. She said he’d had enough, and reiterated the same “too much, too soon” warning Ferris had given him earlier.
MacGyver sighed and shifted on the mattress. Except for a single IV he was medical paraphernalia free, but he still found it hard to get comfortable. He longed to be home in his own bed with the nightmare of the past few weeks behind him. He wanted to get back to work, his friends, and his life.
I just want to get back to normal…He looked up at the small TV suspended across the room. There was a ballgame on, but he had little interest in the teams playing. He grabbed the remote and turned it off, deciding to take a short nap instead. Stretching out on top of the blankets, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, enjoying the warmth of the sunlight that streamed in through the window.
He had only been asleep for a short while when he was roused by a quiet tapping at his door. Pete poked his head in a moment later, his expression turning guilty when he saw him lying down.
“I woke you, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but it’s okay,” Mac replied, sitting up. “I was just resting my eyes.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, hanging in the doorway. “Because I can come back. I was just on lunch and I thought you might like…”
MacGyver pointed at the chair beside his bed. “Sit.”
Looking a bit like a scolded child, the director did as he was told and sat down. “You look tired.”
“PT.”
“Yeah? How’d it go?”
Mac shrugged. “All right. The therapist said that if I stick with her program and behave myself, I might be out of here as early as next week.”
“That’s great. Just let me know and I’ll take the day off to help get you settled,” the older man offered, unable to get past how tired his friend looked. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come back later?”
“It’s all right, really,” Mac insisted. He could tell Pete was anxious just by the way his hands clutched at his briefcase. “And you don’t have to walk on eggshells, either. I’m doing okay now.”
“I know you are. I just have some images in my head that are going to take some time to go away.” Pete sighed. “You were really sick, Mac. The way things looked after your second surgery, I spent the entire night trying to think of the best way to say goodbye.”
MacGyver looked down at his hands. “It was hard for me too. I wanted to give up, and I almost did. But you wouldn’t let me.”
“That’s right, I wouldn’t. You’re a fighter, Mac. When things get tough, you get tougher. It’s one of the things I respect about you and that makes you such a unique person.” He saw his friend’s face color slightly at the praise and smiled. “And I’m not the only one who sees it.” He reached into is briefcase and pulled out a stack of colorful paper.
“What are they?”
“Cards, pictures, stories. They’re from the kids at the Hillenburg School. I found them on my desk this morning with a note from Lori. I had spoken with her about a week ago to let her know the budget approval went through. She was appalled to hear how sick you were, and the kids wanted to help cheer you up.”
MacGyver grinned as he flipped through the vibrant drawings. Most were just random scribbles that vaguely resembled flowers or animals, but some were actually quite good. He paused when he came to a glossy photograph that showed the entire class seated by the pond. A wrought iron fence had been installed around its perimeter, giving the waterscape a distinguished look.
“Lori said the pond is doing great and hopes you’ll come visit as soon as you’re able,” Pete said. “The kids miss you and she said something about wanting to build a wheelchair accessible tree house.”
Mac nodded absently, still looking fondly at the picture. “Yeah, she said something about that a few months ago. I guess she saw one in a catalog and thought it would be neat to build one for the kids. I’m sure one of the architects at the Foundation can help design one.”
There was a rap at the door and Ferris entered, a cloth-covered tray balanced on one hand. “Hey, Pete. I didn’t expect to see you until later.”
“I left Helen in charge and snuck out for lunch. Doing paperwork all morning doesn’t lend itself to much excitement.”
“No, it doesn’t,” she agreed. She turned to her patient and smiled warmly. “So. How was PT?”
“It went okay. I didn’t do much, really. I couldn’t.”
“And now you’re frustrated.”
“A little, yeah.”
“You don’t need to be. We almost lost you, Mac. Your body needs to recover and that takes time. I know you’re anxious to leave and I can’t blame you, but taking the time you need to heal now will make things much easier down the road.”
“She’s right, Mac,” Pete concurred. “You don’t want to jump into things too soon and risk getting sick again.”
“And it does happen, believe me. If you got sick now – even something as simple as a cold – you could undo everything and wind up back in critical care. Or worse.”
MacGyver cringed at the thought.
“But you don’t have to worry about that because you’re going to do what you’re told and take it easy, right?” Ferris asked, looking at him expectantly.
“I’ll try.”
“Good,” she said, clasping her hands together. “Now, how would you feel about me taking those staples out of your head?”
“
Please,” Mac replied, the nagging itch from the small medical staples slowly driving him crazy.
She chuckled and went to wash her hands. “I thought so. Lay down and we’ll get them out.”
“Do you want me to leave?” Pete asked, gathering up the cards so his friend could stretch out.
“You can stay,” he said, settling back on the mattress. “I’m sure Helen appreciates the break.”
“Hey, you’d better watch it or I’ll bring some paperwork in for you to do.”
“It might do him some good,” Ferris said, pulling on a clean pair of gloves. “It would help keep his brain stimulated and speed up the healing process.” She began to unwind the protective bandage around her patient’s head.
“Don’t give him any ideas,” Mac muttered, missing the wink she gave Pete.
The petite doctor grinned. “Oh yeah, this looks
much better than it did,” she uttered, finding the incision to be pink, healthy, and healing. She thoroughly cleaned the area before selecting what looked like pliers from her tray.
“You’re not going to numb the area first?” Pete asked, a little disturbed at his own morbid curiosity.
“There’s no need. They may sting a little, but he should only feel a slight tugging. They’re no different than stitches, really. They’re just made of metal instead of string.” Ferris explained. “You ready?”
“Yep.” He felt her take the first staple with the pliers and give a gentle tug. There was no pain, just a sensation similar to a deep splinter being pulled from the skin. It hurt so little in fact, that he closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax.
After repeating the process for the remaining staples, Ferris cleaned the area again before covering it with a sterile bandage. “There,” she said, clearly pleased with his progress. “We’ll keep it covered for a few more days and then we can start leaving it exposed to the air.”
“Great,” Mac said, cracking open an eye. “When can I shower?”
“I was wondering when that would come up. You can take one this afternoon if you’re feeling up to it. You’ll need to wear a shower cap to keep your head dry, but otherwise you should be fine.”
“Nice.”
“Just let one of the nurses know when you’re ready so there can be someone close by in case you need help. I suggest you take a long nap before you attempt showering. I know it sounds crazy, but the more energy you have going in, the less exhausted you’ll be coming out. You’re not used to being on your feet for more then a few minutes at a time, and the hot water is just going to tire you out even faster.”
“He was asleep when I came in earlier, but he’s just too damn polite to tell me to go away,” Pete said, giving Mac a playful cuff on the arm as he stood to leave. “So I suggest you do as the good doctor says and get some rest. I’ll swing by on my way home this evening, and I might even bring you something from the corner market.”
He raised an eyebrow in interest. “Sounds good.”
His two friends said their goodbyes and left, plunging the small room into relative silence. Mac sighed and looked up at the ceiling, focusing on a pressure crack that resembled a leaf. He still wasn’t thrilled about his continued stay at the hospital, but he was willing to accept it was the best thing to do. He would be permitted to leave soon enough – and taking unnecessary risks was something he’d learned to avoid.
MacGyver rolled over to face the window and allowed his eyes to shut against the early afternoon sun. Within minutes he was asleep, dreaming of a picturesque spring day, rolling green meadows, and a mysterious gray horse grazing peacefully beneath the shade of an ancient, bushy tree.
