All In The Past – Part Five

Handcuffed and blindfolded, MacGyver was hauled inside and thrown to the floor by the two bulky thugs who had snatched him from his houseboat. He felt cold metal beneath his cheek as someone pulled off the blindfold.

Mac blinked at the third man in the bright light of a single naked bulb. Shorter and thinner, he had an air of intelligence and leadership about him. No cumbersome assault rifle or sub machine gun was slung over his shoulder like the other two, instead there was a barely distinct bulge beneath his arm where his handgun was undoubtedly hidden by his neatly buttoned suit jacket. By all appearances this had to be the leader of the group.

Rolling onto his back to survey the windowless, rectangular room, MacGyver found himself lying beside a wooden chair to which Terry had been tied, ankles, wrists and another length of rope fastened around her waist. Her head rested on her chest, her hair falling over her face to obscure her condition.

Anxiously Mac turned to face his aggressor, unable to hide his concern for her.

“Don’t worry, she’s just out of it. She’s still alive. For now!” the leader added with a cruel leer.

Mac scrambled to his knees, raising his cuffed wrists to Terry’s neck. He stretched out two long fingers to feel for her pulse and tried not to show his utter relief when he found it, slow but steady. He gently lifted her head, wincing at the fresh dark purple bruise on her jaw.

“Why did you hit her?” he asked infuriatedly.

“Because she wouldn’t tell us the truth, of course!” the man snorted. “She tried to claim there were no other witnesses, when there you were bold as brass on the evening news!”

MacGyver hung his head at the words, knowing he was to blame for her latest beating. He swallowed painfully. “Oh God, I’m sorry Terry,” he whispered, his hand caressing her unbruised right cheek, wondering again at whether he had done the right thing by letting himself get caught. What if Pete was unable to track him? What if he never even got the telephone message?

Mac turned away from Terry and stood up slowly, pushing against one knee with his hands. “So, what now?”

“Now you’re going to help us finish the work that Dr Fleming started.”

MacGyver frowned. “How? I don’t even know what he was working on. Nobody does. The records were destroyed.”

“You work for the Phoenix Foundation, do you not?” The man held up MacGyver’s ID badge, taken from him during a search of his pockets. Mac shrugged guilelessly. “Just before the doctor so unfortunately passed away, our friend at the DXS discovered that he had hidden a copy of his research in the Phoenix Foundation files. Apparently, Dr Fleming believed it was the only place the information would be safe. If it was ever discovered there, it would not be misused.”

“What kind of research?” Mac asked, unable to suppress his curiosity.

“The DXS hired Dr Fleming to do two tasks. One was to find a chemical method of reversing the effects of brainwashing. Something that would unlock the neural pathways in an instant, where weeks or even months of traditional deprogramming techniques still might not deactivate the hidden triggers buried within a brainwash victim.”

“And the second task?” Mac asked, intrigued by what he was hearing. He wondered whether David had been successful and whether his research really was still intact somewhere. It would be extremely valuable to many different groups, peaceful or otherwise, including the Phoenix Foundation.

The leader smiled slyly, “The second task set by the DXS was to develop a chemical method of brainwashing. Fast and effective.”

MacGyver’s jaw practically dropped open. “And Fleming agreed!” he exclaimed in astonishment

“Of course! The DXS assured him the second task was simply to give them a method of testing that the anti-brainwash chemical was effective.”

“And he believed them?” Mac responded incredulously.

“You know a good scientist rarely sees the repercussions of his invention until its true power has been unleashed,” the man pointed out gleefully.

“Was Dr Fleming successful?” Mac asked quietly.

“Only you can determine that.” He looked at Mac’s puzzled face. “By accessing the Phoenix databases and retrieving the files he hid. We know you have full security access, Mr MacGyver. We did our research on you. If it wasn’t for the presence of all those Phoenix people at the house this afternoon, our plan was to snatch you too for just this purpose. Instead you so kindly made yourself available to us. How nice!” He paused long enough for his snide words to sink in, watching MacGyver’s reaction closely before he put the final nail in the coffin, “Dickson will be so pleased when he arrives!”

Mac’s heart sank and he berated himself inwardly for walking into their trap. How could he have been so blind? But he knew the answer to that, she was sitting tied up and unconscious in the chair beside him. Maybe that was another reason why he hadn’t let himself get so involved with anyone in so long.

Eventually he spoke, knowing he had to ask, but also knowing he wouldn’t like the answer. “Why should I help you?”

“Because Dr Fleming apparently succeeded in completing his second task first and we have the test doses he made up!” The man withdrew a hypodermic needle and vial from his jacket pocket. “It seems fitting for his own sister to try out the drug first, doesn’t it? Then perhaps you will have sufficient incentive to retrieve the data that will tell you how to reverse its effects.”

“What if the antidote doesn’t work?” Mac asked hoarsely, edging closer to Terry’s chair protectively.

The man shrugged coldly, “Then she’ll never be able to identify us and perhaps we won’t need to kill her after all.”

Mac swallowed, desperately trying to think of a way out for them both, but all he could do for now was try to stall them and pray the cavalry would arrive very soon. “You can’t give her that until she’s awake or you won’t know when it’s taken effect,” he suggested feebly.

“Then wake her up!”

MacGyver shook his head.

“We can either do this the easy way or the hard way. It’s up to you.” The leader signalled one of his men, a vicious looking thug whose business suit and tie simply served to highlight the bulk of him. He approached Terry menacingly, slinging his Uzi over his shoulder and pushing his sleeves up slightly as he flexed his muscles, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“No, wait!” Mac stepped in front of Terry. “I’ll do it!”

He knelt down in front of the chair, hanging his head for a long moment, but he couldn’t come up with any immediate alternatives. MacGyver sighed deeply, shaking his head in sorrow and frustration. He stretched up towards Terry’s unconscious body, touching her cheek lightly with the outstretched fingers of his cuffed hands.

“Terry? Terry can you hear me? It’s MacGyver. Terry you need to wake up.” She didn’t stir at all and Mac could sense their growing impatience behind him. Gesturing helplessly, he stretched higher and leaned in, placing his lips on hers in the lightest of touches.

“Terry?” he breathed against her cheek, brushing his lips over hers again and feeling the slightest reaction. He pulled away an inch, still holding her head up, to gaze at her, watching her eyes slowly flicker open and feeling the weight of her head start to lift from his fingers as she began to revive.

Gradually her dazed eyes focused on him and Mac saw the light of recognition brighten her features, tugging at his heart the way it had the first day he had ever gazed into those beautiful eyes, then free from pain and bruising and the harshness of this reality she had become embroiled in.

“MacGyver,” Terry’s expression of relief turned to horror when she saw the cuffs around his wrists, “Mac, no!” Her head shot up to regard her all too familiar surroundings. “What are you doing here?” she asked in distress, tears pricking her eyelids.

“He’s here to save your life, my dear, albeit temporarily,” the leader sneered.

“Let him go. He doesn’t know anything,” Terry pleaded hoarsely.

“On the contrary, Mr MacGyver has kindly offered to finish the work your brother began.”

Terry regarded Mac with confused eyes, struggling to believe he would do anything to aid these people. But instead of denying it, all MacGyver could do was shrug helplessly.

“Why?” Terry whispered, a stray tear escaping down her cheek.

Mac caught it with his fingertip. “I have no choice, Terry,” he said painfully.

“What Mr MacGyver is trying to say,” the leader taunted her, “Is that he has to help us recover Dr Fleming’s research files in order to reduce your suffering at the hands of your clever brother’s new drug and its rather nasty side effects.”

“What drug?” Terry asked in confusion.

“What side effects?” Mac asked hoarsely, turning to face him worriedly. “You never said anything about side effects!”

“Oh, did I forget to mention them?” he laughed sadistically. “Well to be frank, we don’t know the exact nature, because we don’t have his research notes. But apparently the lab rats Dr Fleming used in his tests went completely berserk. It seems the brainwashing drug works by attacking the part of the brain that controls fear response, thus enabling rapid reprogramming of the subject with the idea of destroying the source of the fear, that is whoever you wish to be assassinated or attacked.”

He smiled at the thought. “It’s an old trick, convincing the victim sufficiently so you can take control of their actions with a few simple commands. Dr Fleming just invented a new slant on things. A quick and easy method to take control of someone’s mind. Except this time we have no use for the mind, so we’ll just see where the drug takes her instead.”

“You can’t do this,” MacGyver said through gritted teeth, barely aware that his fingers were clenched over Terry’s right hand now.

“I’d say that’s up to Miss Wightman to choose.” He signalled the third member of his team who swung the barrel of his assault rifle up to aim at the woman. “The alternative is immediate death!”

“I’ll take my chances with the drug,” Terry spoke as strongly as she could, staring straight down the barrel of the rifle unwaveringly, despite the lurching of her stomach.

“Terry, no!” Mac whispered.

She twined her fingers round his as best she could. “It’s okay MacGyver. Besides, I don’t believe my brother would invent something so horribly cruel as he’s making this drug out to be.”

“David was tricked, Terry. And we don’t know what that drug will do to a human being,” Mac said quietly.

“I trust him,” she said softly, gazing into his dark brown eyes intently, “And I trust you. If there’s any way out of this, you’ll find it.” She lowered her eyes to his hand for a moment, absorbing the feeling of his contact for what might be the final time. “And if you can’t find a way out,” she swallowed, looking into his eyes and holding his gaze, “If you don’t find a way out, then it wasn’t your fault. Remember that Mac, please,” she implored him. “None of this is your fault,” she practically spelled out the words, tears in her eyes at the renewed thought of never seeing him again. “Promise me you’ll remember that?” she whispered pleadingly.

MacGyver nodded slowly, then he leaned in to kiss her one last time. “Love you,” he breathed against her lips.

“You too,” she smiled weakly, then she pressed her mouth against his in one final fervent kiss, passionate and emotionally charged, their lips moving ardently in remembrance of what they had shared.

They came back down to earth to the sound of an impatient cough behind Mac and he was pulled away, hauled to his feet abruptly. His gaze never left hers, exchanging silent prayers of hope and promises as the leader prepared the hypodermic, inserting it into the vial and withdrawing the plunger steadily to extract the dose.

The Uzi toting henchman pushed Terry’s sweater sleeve up and held her still as the leader tied a rubber band around her upper arm and tapped the vein on the inside of her elbow with his fingers.

“Shouldn’t you use a lesser dose if you want to test the effects?” Mac asked desperately, eyeing the very full syringe.

“Why waste time?” the leader sneered. “We might as well determine its full impact as quickly as possible.” He waved the hypodermic threateningly and MacGyver saw red, scared and frustrated that he couldn’t find a safe way out for Terry. He launched himself at the man swinging his cuffed wrists in a punch that flew wide when his target ducked out of the way.

Mac grunted in startled pain when the butt of an assault rifle made contact with the back of his head and he fell to the floor stunned. A boot jammed into his ribcage, connecting painfully with an existing bruise from the earlier tussle in his houseboat when he had put up a fight so it didn’t look like they had captured him too easily.

He heard Terry scream above the roaring in his ears. “Leave him alone! You don’t have to hurt him. Please.” She pleaded with them, watching the third thug dragging MacGyver a secure distance away, pulling him to a sitting position on the floor.

Mac shook his head dazedly, his cuffed hands gingerly touching the back of his head. His fingers came back bloody from the fresh cut and he winced at the sight, realising his stupid impulse had got them nowhere. He looked up, directly into Terry’s anguished gaze, flushing guiltily for adding to her woes. He shrugged sorrowfully, a silent apology, and she blinked understanding, her face changing into a blaze of determination as she broke eye contact with MacGyver and turned to the leader.

“Well, get on with it, why don’t you!” she challenged him fearlessly.

Terry desperately tried to stop her fingers from trembling as the man clamped one hand brutally tight over her wrist and expertly inserted the needle, puncturing a vein in the crook of her elbow.

The first thing that hit her was a wave of excruciating pain that made her want to cry out, but she gritted her teeth, a cold sweat breaking out on her brow as the nausea took hold. Terry swallowed convulsively, the roar in her head getting louder as her vision blurred. Then, as fast as the symptoms had appeared, they dissipated when she passed out limply.

Mac held his breath, his fists clenched tightly as the leader placed two fingers against the carotid artery in Terry’s neck. He shrugged indifferently. “She’s alive,” he informed the room.

Mac slowly exhaled, gazing at the unconscious woman and wondering what the drug was doing to her, before his view was obscured by the leader moving to stand before him.

“Your turn,” he said, yanking him up by his cuffed wrists and leading him over to a table, positioned against one wall of the unusual metal room. It held a computer, keyboard, monitor and separate modem.

Unlocking his handcuffs, the man switched on the computer. “You can dial up the Phoenix databases from here. The sooner you retrieve the information, the sooner you’ll find out whether there’s any cure for that drug currently poisoning the bloodstream of your girlfriend there!” he sneered cruelly, stepping back out of reach to wait for Mac’s reaction.

MacGyver did the only thing he could do. He waited as the computer finished booting up, then he dialled up the Phoenix Foundation’s high security remote access line on the modem, listening to the computer handshake go through, before he obtained a logon screen. Tapping in his ID and password rapidly, Mac’s mind began to come up with possible search strings as fast as his fingers could input them, and faster than the telephone line could transmit and receive the data.

Suddenly his file search was interrupted by a blood curdling scream and Mac whirled in Terry’s direction, a look of abject fear creasing his face. Terry’s bound hands were clenched into fists, so tight her knuckles were white. Her brow glistened damp with a feverish sweat and her face was contorted in pain. Yet Terry’s eyes were closed, apparently she was still unconscious, her mouth moving in soundless delirium.

Suddenly she took a deep breath, raising her head up high to scream again. It was a horrifying pain filled cry, a deathly terror from somewhere deep within, and Mac found himself praying desperately that whatever was haunting her would not be remembered when she regained consciousness. ‘If’ was not a word he would even allow himself to contemplate.

The room fell silent for a long moment and Mac noticed the two henchmen glance at each other almost fearfully, shocked looks on their faces at the dreadful noise. Their leader apparently noticed their distracted looks and another earsplitting shriek was the final straw.

“Take her outside. You know where!” he ordered the blond man who was watching with a malevolent leer on his face. The man handed the leader his Uzi and untied Terry from the chair. He rebound her hands and wrists together with the same lengths of rope, before hefting her limp body lightly over his shoulder and striding from the room.

“Make sure you come right back!” the leader warned the disappearing figure.

Through the open door, MacGyver caught a brief glimpse of a darkened yard, rough gravel ground and shadowy oblong shapes outlined against the sky. Then the leader bashed his shoulder with the muzzle of the Uzi. “I suggest you get a move on, if you ever want to see her alive again!”

Still trying to think positively, Mac glanced at his watch, trying to gauge how long the guard was absent in the hope it might help him to determine how far away Terry had been taken. Then he turned back to the computer, tapping in several more futile search strings before the blond man returned and retrieved his Uzi from the leader, his disposal job completed for now.

Making a decision on search and rescue, Mac realised that, with Terry out of the room, now was his chance. He couldn’t afford to wait for the cavalry any longer.

Mac worked fast, tapping commands out on the keyboard to display lists of files as he pretended to continue his search. Still poring over the screen display, he surreptitiously typed in a string of programming code, commanding the computer to go to sleep in twenty seconds time, then to wait five minutes and reboot, with a little added surprise for the gunmen watching over him so avidly.

Mac entered the code and displayed another set of file names. His twenty second countdown had just reached zero, with his finger paused on the screen running down another file list, when the monitor and CPU went dead, a single orange light on the CPU flashing to indicate power. MacGyver sat back, blinking in feigned surprise and glancing sideways at his watch as he began his mental count.

“What happened?” the Uzi toting guard asked.

“No idea!” Mac looked puzzled, tapping his fingertips against his chin as he thought out loud. “Maybe a blown fuse or bad wiring.” He stood up slowly and checked that the cable was plugged into the back of the monitor tightly, then he bent down beside the electrical outlet. “Swiss army knife?” he asked tentatively.

The two guards looked to their leader, who considered MacGyver for a moment and then shrugged, signalling for the second guard to give him his pocket knife back.

Mac caught the thrown implement and turned to the electrical socket, pulling out the plug connecting the monitor and unscrewing it quickly. Concealing his actions he loosened the wiring and crossed the connections until the ends almost touched. A slight tug on the cable would be all that was needed. “Yeah, that’s got it,” he announced innocently. “The wires were a bit loose, that’s all. They just lost their connection.”

With another hidden glance at his watch, Mac rapidly tightened the screws back in place and pushed the plug back into the socket. Counting down the final seconds, he slowly stood up and traced the cable to the rear of the monitor, pretending to check that it was properly seated.

With one hand on the electrical cable, Mac turned to the second guard still some distance away and offered his Swiss army knife back guilelessly. The guard automatically approached to take it from him just as MacGyver’s mental countdown reached zero. The computer began to reboot, spitting out the floppy diskette directly from the disk drive like a catapult, just as Mac had instructed the computer to do if it found anything in there on startup.

The blond gunman instinctively dropped his slung Uzi to catch it, leaving the weapon to dangle from his shoulder on its strap. At that moment, MacGyver tugged the monitor cable a fraction. The two wires met, sending sparks flying from the socket and a heavy surge of current up the cable.

Mac ducked away, shielding his face as the monitor tube blew in a shower of sparks and glass shards, catching both guards directly in the blast. They dived away, stunned, blinded and hurting. Mac leapt after them, ignoring the leader for the moment since there was little he could do until he had narrowed the odds, beyond praying the man wanted him alive enough that he wouldn’t shoot him in the back. Besides, it would take a few precious seconds for the man to unholster whatever weapon he had hidden beneath his buttoned up jacket.

Mac punched out the Uzi toting gunman first, hard enough to ensure he would remain unconscious for a while. He unclenched his fist and shook it painfully, grabbing the dropped submachine gun with his left hand, he used the solid metal butt to knock out the second gunman.

Adrenalin still pumping, Mac jumped up, whirling round to face the leader, shocked to find the room suddenly quiet and empty. The exit door was swinging open and MacGyver ran for it, grabbing his dropped Swiss army knife on the way and pausing cautiously to check outside for anyone lying in wait.

Realising he was still carrying the weapons, Mac quickly disabled both guns and then stepped outside into what he soon recognised was a darkened freight yard. Waiting for his eyes to adjust, Mac listened intently, fear rising as he realised that there was only one place the leader could have gone and that was after Terry. If only he knew where they’d put her. There were dozens of trucks and shipping containers parked all over the yard. How was he supposed to find her?

On the still night air, MacGyver detected a faint humming noise, turning full circle to try and locate the source. In a dark corner of the yard, several white painted refrigeration lorries were parked, the electrical thrum coming from one which was currently switched on for no apparent logical reason.

Mac stealthily made his way towards the group of vehicles, running low across the open yard, then creeping along the side of the lorries trying to determine which one was emitting the low pitched hum. As he tried to ascertain the exact source of the noise, MacGyver suddenly remembered the Medical Examiner’s description of how David had died and realised this must have been where they kept him while they tortured him, waiting for him to give up his work or his life.

A muffled scream helped him to narrow down his search to the second row of vehicles, and Mac spotted a flicker of light through the unlatched side entrance of one of them. He moved closer, his cautious footfalls on the rough gravel obscured by the regular hum of the refrigeration motor keeping the storage area at an even sub zero temperature.

The whole idea seemed almost surreal. Once again, Terry was trapped in an enclosed vehicle surrounded by ice and slow freezing to death. MacGyver could only pray she was still unconscious, safe from the perverse reality of a recurring childhood nightmare.

Another blood curdling scream came from inside, this one louder as he got closer to the vehicle. Then he heard a panic stricken voice, full of fear and agony, and MacGyver knew his prayers had not been answered this time. Terry was awake and she sounded absolutely terrified, desperate for any way out.

“Please, you have to let me out of here,” the strained voice sobbed. “If you leave me in here, I’ll never tell you where David stored his files!”

Whether her captor responded, MacGyver couldn’t hear, any words were drowned out by another scream of pain. Mac’s hands clenched into fists, not knowing who to hate more, the man who had injected this terrible drug into Terry, or her own brother for concocting it in the first place. How could he have been so blind to the possible misuses of such a poison?

Terry screamed again, an excruciating cry of pain and fear as all her neural pathways were assaulted by the toxin in her system.

“Help me, please!”

Her plea was pitiful and anguished and Mac knew she wouldn’t be able to withstand the pain much longer before it pushed her over the edge or possibly caused permanent brain damage or a seizure.

Desperately he tried to think. They didn’t have the antidote to the drug even if he could rescue her from the truck. The only option would be to sedate her until he could get her to hospital, or put her out for the count.

First he had to get her out of the truck and fast, before any of the rest of the gang woke up. Glancing around quickly, MacGyver looked for anything that he could use, struggling to think clearly against the sound of Terry’s increasingly agonised screams and the shouts of her aggressor, who was now trying to determine whether she really did know where David’s files were.

Stealthily he tried the front doors of the truck, but both were locked and he couldn’t break in without making too much noise. Mac stepped back, his eyes settling on the rubber hose of the air brakes connecting the rig to the refrigeration unit. Working quickly he cut through the hose with his Swiss army knife and began to unscrew the back of the refrigeration unit to get at the gas lines.

In no time at all he had rigged the hose from the gas pipe to the open door. Any noise of his movements was covered by the screams coming from inside, interspersed with increasingly angry shouts from Terry’s captor, whom MacGyver could only pray had not yet resorted to renewed physical violence. With the hose in place, Mac climbed up and yanked open the gas line, directing a flood of freon gas down the hose and into the storage area, filling the truck with a dense choking fog.

The gang leader lurched from the vehicle, coughing and yelling. MacGyver waited behind the metal door, ramming it hard against the man, smashing him in the face and knocking him unconscious.

Pausing only to take the man’s gun and throw it beneath the lorry, Mac jumped up into the vehicle, holding his breath and feeling blindly through the gaseous fog. Terry’s helpless cries directed him to her and he felt for her bound hands, pulling her upright and then scooping her frozen body into his arms to carry her outside before she choked to death on the suffocating stream of gas.

Carrying her several yards away into the dark shadows, MacGyver quickly cut through the coarse rope binding her wrists and ankles. She coughed hard, a strangled hacking gasp, heaving desperately to get enough air into her lungs. Mac helped her sit up, rubbing her frozen hands to try and get the circulation going. Suddenly her fingers clenched over his, jamming against the existing finger shaped bruises on his hand as she tensed in excruciating pain, letting out a scream that hurt his ears.

Terry’s weak voice reached him through the darkness of the freight yard, “Please let me out of here,” she begged, her tearful sobs tearing him apart.

MacGyver scooped her into his arms. “It’s okay, Terry. You are out of there. You’re free. Open air and no more cold!” He rubbed his hands across her shoulders, trying to warm her frozen body.

“It hurts,” she whispered weakly, barely hearing his words, let alone registering their meaning.

“I know, honey, I know,” MacGyver’s words hitched in his throat, “I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?” He felt her nod against his chest as she finally began to shiver, a good sign that her body was warming enough to begin fighting the cold. He felt Terry steel herself for another onslaught and she cried out in pain again.

“I’m going to put you out, okay?” Mac knew he had no choice. With a well placed grip on her shoulder, he quickly pressed against the carotid artery until she passed out painlessly from the sudden brief interruption to her blood supply. It was a move he had originally discovered from watching Star Trek as a teenager, researching the facts in his curiosity to know whether the science behind Spock’s grip really worked.

Terry fell limp in his arms and Mac looked around, trying to determine which direction would take them towards civilisation where he could flag down a vehicle or find a telephone. Whatever he did he had to do it fast. There was no way of telling how long the three gang members would remain unconscious. And didn’t someone say something about Dickson being due to arrive?

MacGyver froze at the sound of an ominous click a few feet behind his head. He looked around and was blinded by a flashlight shining in his face. Beyond that, he could only see a dark silhouette of a man holding what was unmistakably a handgun.

“Mr MacGyver, I presume,” the unfamiliar voice sneered. “Well I’m glad you’ve stopped that infernal screaming, it was beginning to drive me mad!”

“Dickson?” Mac guessed despondently.

“Yes indeed,” the rogue DXS agent said smugly. “I really must thank you for giving yourself up to my men. For awhile there I thought I might have blown my cover too soon when we were only able to snatch the girl this afternoon!” He laughed, a horrible malevolent sound that sent equal parts of fear and anger coursing through MacGyver’s veins.

“So what now?” he asked as casually as he could manage, wondering if he had any hope of reaching Dickson’s gun before getting a bullet in him.

“Pick up the girl,” Dickson gestured with his flashlight.

“Why do you need her?” Mac asked defiantly.

“Because if you’re carrying her, you’re less likely to try anything stupid, of course!” Dickson snorted, “I’ve heard about you MacGyver. Your name is practically legendary in the annals of the DXS! Although it would appear that your reputation has long since preceded you!” he added snidely.

Mac shook his head dejectedly and did as he was told, gently lifting Terry’s unconscious body in his arms and praying that this time she was out deep enough to not reach screaming stage again.

Dickson gestured for him to walk in front. “Now we’re going back to that computer to find Fleming’s files.”

“How? The monitor’s toast!” Mac taunted, coming to a halt and twisting round to stare at him.

“Mr MacGyver, we’re in a shipping yard! Most of these containers are filled with something awaiting collection. I’ve already sent the other two men off to appropriate a new screen. We’ll have it set up in no time!” He paused thoughtfully, “Course, I might have to give them your girlfriend here to play with, in order to stop them from smashing the new monitor over your head!” he threatened viciously.

“Touch one hair on her head and you’ll never get your hands on David’s files,” MacGyver said acidly, tightening his grip on the limp body in his arms.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think it’s the hair on her head they’re interested in!”

Mac’s blood ran cold. He studied the face of the rogue DXS agent, but he could see nothing to leave any hope that his threat was idle. Mac had to do something before they got back to the office.

Continuing to move slowly across the gravel yard, they passed another double stacked row of freight boxes. Seeing his chance, MacGyver pretended to stumble sideways, bundling Terry’s body into the dark safety of a gap between two of the huge metal containers.

He groaned loudly. “Ow! My ankle! You should get these potholes seen to, they’re dangerous!” Mac rubbed his ankle animatedly as Dickson drew closer, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Ouch!” Mac exclaimed, attempting to stand and only getting as far as a bended knee.

“Come on, hurry up!” Dickson lost patience, reaching down and grabbing Mac by the shoulder to haul him to his feet. MacGyver gripped Dickson’s arm with both hands and yanked hard, pulling him off balance and smashing him into the side of the metal freight container. The 9mm semiautomatic flew from his hand.

MacGyver leapt to his feet and whirled around, fists raised ready to fight, but Dickson lay on the ground groaning. “People with glass jaws shouldn’t throw stones!” Mac snorted, leaning down to grab the flashlight from Dickson’s limp fingers.

Without warning, Dickson’s grip tightened and he swung his arm up, the solid metal flashlight connecting stunningly with the side of Mac’s head.

Mac fell to his knees, fighting the sudden weakness in his limbs as he tried to focus his blurring vision past the stars in front of his eyes. His hands scrambled for purchase on the rough gravel ground and he grabbed a fistful of grit as he shook the roaring from his head.

Dickson pushed himself upright and shone his flashlight around quickly, scanning the area for his dropped weapon. MacGyver spotted it at the same time as he did and they both dived for it. Dickson’s clear vision gave him a better aim and he got his fingers around the butt of the gun before Mac could reach it. He whirled round and took aim just as Mac’s other hand came up, flinging the fistful of sharp stinging gravel directly into Dickson’s eyes.

Dickson yelped, falling backwards, but to his credit he didn’t drop the gun. Instead he fired off a wild round and followed it through by throwing the flashlight hard in Mac’s direction. Then he scrambled backwards, putting distance between them whilst he clawed at his eyes with his now free hand, trying to clear his grit filled vision.

MacGyver dived away from the sound of the gunshot and grabbed the flashlight as it hit the ground nearby. Gripping it firmly he swung his arm down across Dickson’s outstretched wrist. The bone crunching impact was audible and Dickson cried out in pain and anger, his useless fingers dropping the semiautomatic once more.

This time MacGyver managed to grab it and threw it hard, launching it across the yard into the dark shadows where no one could find it. Then he whirled on Dickson, recoiling just in time to avoid the lunging kick to his head, but Dickson’s other flailing foot caught him firmly in the solar plexus, knocking all the air from his lungs in a pain filled whoosh.

Mac gasped for breath, bringing up the flashlight in his right hand to bat away another outstretched kick. The metal casing hit Dickson’s shinbone and he yelped in pain, pulling back protectively. Mac seized the moment to clamber to his feet and dive at his opponent, landing atop and rolling as each one scrambled for the upper hand.

Still gripping the flashlight, MacGyver fought to break his arm free and raised it high enough to smash the heavy object down against the side of Dickson’s head. With a muffled groan, the rogue DXS agent fell back limply, out cold. Mac rolled away from him, gasping for breath and shaking from the exertion of the fight, the adrenalin ebbing away to leave him weak-kneed as he attempted to stand upright.

MacGyver hauled himself up against the side of the metal container, clawing his way to his feet and checking to see if the flashlight still worked before stumbling back to the gap between the two shipping containers where he’d left Terry.

He shone the light in as he bent down to collect her, but she was gone. Rocking back on his heels in shock, Mac barely resisted the temptation to call her name, knowing there were still three men possibly all running around conscious again by now. If only he’d had time to at least tie the leader up!

He directed the beam along the narrow gap between the freight containers, hoping that perhaps Terry had simply crawled out of danger, but there was no sign of her. MacGyver stood upright, the flashlight catching something reflective several yards along. Concentrating the beam on the point of reflection, he squeezed through the gap and aimed for it, bending down to grasp the shiny item.

It was the gold heart and chain he had given Terry that afternoon. Mac’s hand shook in fear as he lifted the necklace and pushed it into his pocket, standing up to step the remaining few feet between the containers to the other side of the yard. He switched off the flashlight, better late than never, and poked his head out into the dark open space, jerking back into the shadows quickly when he saw the gunman holding Terry’s body against his like a shield.

Think MacGyver! He desperately ordered himself as the man shouted in his direction.

“Mr MacGyver, I’d like you to come out now. And you can shine that flashlight onto your face, please. I’d like to see what you’re planning next!” the leader of the gang of mercenaries instructed loudly.

For a long moment, Mac didn’t move, desperately trying to come up with a way out, but for once he was all out of ideas. His head was pounding and he was up against a gunman with a hostage standing out in the open, away from any form of cover by which Mac could approach with stealth. The only option left was to do as the man said and wait for a chance when he got closer. Drawing a deep ragged breath, Mac stepped out into the yard.

“The flashlight, Mr MacGyver!” the man yelled warningly.

Wearily Mac raised his hand and switched the flashlight back on, shining it upwards and trying to keep the light out of his eyes so he could still see Terry and her captor.

“You don’t seem to be playing the game, Mr MacGyver,” the man tutted loudly with his tongue as Mac moved further out into the yard. “How am I going to make you take us seriously? Or am I simply going to have to kill Dr Fleming’s sister as well?” He pulled back the slide on his handgun with an ominous click that echoed across the open ground.

MacGyver swallowed convulsively. “Whatever you want, I’ll do it. Just don’t hurt her,” he pleaded anxiously, seeing the look of deadly intent on the gunman’s face.

“I’m sorry Mr MacGyver, I think you’ve had your chance. But don’t worry, this isn’t going to hurt her nearly as much as we hurt her brother.” He raised the gun to Terry’s head and MacGyver saw his cruel smile clearly despite the dim light. Desperately, Mac started to run in a futile effort to reach him before the hammer fell onto the bullet.

A shot rang out and MacGyver screamed in horror, his eyes transfixed on Terry as she fell limply to the ground.

“Terry! NO!” His cry echoed around the yard as his legs buckled and he fell to his knees. Tears on his cheeks turned ice cold in the breeze that suddenly whipped across the open ground. Silence fell upon him like a suffocating pillow and then all hell broke loose. Shouts rang across the yard and MacGyver could see shadowy figures running in the darkness.

He braced himself for further attack, not really caring whether he survived this time, only concerned with how many he might take with him. Before he could begin to move, MacGyver saw a figure stoop over Terry’s body, shouted words reaching him from across the open space, barely registering through the numbness that threatened to smother him.

“She’s alive! But she’s unconscious and freezing to death! Get the paramedics over here! MacGyver? Are you all right?” Pete’s voice finally cut through the fog as he strode several yards towards his friend, unable to see him clearly in the dark except for his slumped form.

“He killed her!” Mac’s whisper was filled with grief.

“No he didn’t, we shot him!” Pete announced triumphantly. “Sorry pal, we would have got here sooner, but it wasn’t easy to track down your transmitter signal in such a low lying area.”

“How!” Mac asked hoarsely, struggling to understand the meaning of his words.

“Helicopter!” Pete grinned in relief. “Come on, I think you’d better join Terry in case she wakes up.” Pete took Mac’s hand, helping him to his feet and wrapping an arm around his shoulders in support. Even to Pete’s failing eyesight, his friend looked exhausted, the strain taking its toll. Pete could feel MacGyver’s body shaking and he looked like he’d aged ten years in the last few hours.

As they walked over to where a couple of paramedics were now checking Terry’s condition, Mac spoke again, a choked whisper of concern, “They drugged her with something David concocted. The antidote is hidden in the Phoenix databases. She was screaming in pain, I had to put her out.”

“It’s okay, MacGyver. She’ll be all right, she’s safe now. We got the whole group, rounded up two of them carting a computer monitor across the freight yard of all things!”

“Dickson’s the other side of those containers,” Mac said huskily, pointing back behind him.

“Great! See, it’s all over! Terry will be safe.” Pete came to a halt beside the paramedics, turning MacGyver’s bewildered gaze to face him. “Don’t you see? She’s free! She won’t have to go into the witness protection programme now. We’ve caught all the people involved!” Pete smiled broadly. “You’ve saved her from that MacGyver!”

“I couldn’t save her from this,” Mac gestured morosely, gazing down at the unconscious woman who was being lifted onto a flat stretcher by the two paramedics.

“She’ll be okay, Mac. David Fleming would not have invented a drug that could permanently harm his own sister,” Pete pointed out reasonably.

“David was tricked, Pete! He was supposed to be developing an anti-brainwash treatment, but the DXS asked him to come up with a brainwashing drug that would enable him to test his treatment. That’s what they injected Terry with. It’s supposed to effect the part of the brain that controls fear response.” Mac wiped a shaky palm over his face, “She was screaming even when she was unconscious! I couldn’t help her,” he said despairingly.

“It’s okay MacGyver. We’ll find the antidote if the drug hasn’t worn off already,” Pete tried to reassure him gently. “I’ll get our best people onto it right away. Now you need to go to the hospital with Terry. Get that bump checked out for a start,” he winced as he saw the egg sized lump on the side of Mac’s temple, highlighted in the bright flashlight the paramedics were using. “Stay with Terry, MacGyver. She needs you.”

Mac nodded slowly and Pete handed him over to one of the paramedics. “Look after him, will you?” he said, then he patted his friend on the back and headed off to help the police finish clearing up the mess and figuring out what had happened. But before that he would contact his best computer experts at the Phoenix Foundation and see if they could find David’s files.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Pete reached the hospital he found the doctor just finishing his examination of MacGyver in the private room where Terry was being cared for. Mac was perched on the spare bed, looking like he was running on autopilot, barely able to keep his eyes open. He appeared pale and worn, the right side of his face gradually turning garish shades of red, purple and black as the bruising slowly came out from the flashlight impact to his skull.

Mac had refused to leave Terry’s side except when an orderly had dragged him off to get x-rays on his head and chest. Now the doctor completed his workup of the battered man, happy with the x-ray results and clear, regular breath sounds in the patient’s chest. He hung his stethoscope back around his neck and instructed the extremely weary and subdued MacGyver to put his shirt back on.

Pete grimaced when he got close enough to see the widespread bruising to MacGyver’s chest and ribs that matched the right side of his face with the myriad of colours gradually developing. They were causing some amount of pain too, if the sharp wince in Mac’s expression as he gingerly pulled on his shirt was anything to go by.

Apart from the obvious severe bruising, the doctor explained that MacGyver had mild concussion from the blow to his temple that was going to cause some pretty bad headaches for the next day or so. There was also a cut on the back of his head, along with a second more hidden lump, from the impact of a gun butt.

There was little point in Pete showing his shock or asking his friend what had happened. It was all painfully clear what had happened. Circumstances had forced MacGyver to single handedly take on the bad guys in order to save a kidnapped woman from a certain, and probably grisly, death. He had given himself up to a bunch of mercenaries and apparently put up some fight to make it look convincing.

They had taken Dickson into custody at the freight yard. He had been lying, still unconscious, right where Mac had left him. Judging by the state of the ex-DXS agent, there had been quite a struggle between them, one that thankfully MacGyver had won. Pete didn’t want to think about what would have happened to his friend if he had lost at that point, still several long minutes before the cavalry had arrived. Nor for that matter what would have happened to Terry.

Pete shook his head sadly. The jury was still out on whether Terry would be okay or not. She had been brought in suffering from mild hypothermia and had an unknown drug poisoning her bloodstream. She had not regained consciousness since Mac had knocked her out, but it was apparent that was more due to the spread of toxins in her weakened system than his crude method of sedation.

Blood samples were being tested along with two vials of a drug taken from the body of the man who had been shot in the freight yard, when one of the police sharpshooters took him out before he could kill Terry.

The Phoenix people were still searching the Foundation’s extensive databases, but they were narrowing the search now after having received information from the DXS of the exact time and date David Fleming had connected his office computer to the Phoenix number to transmit his research. In fact the DXS had suddenly become extremely helpful now that all their insidious secrets were out in the open. Damage control was suddenly the order of the day from their point of view.

Suppressing a heavy sigh, Pete watched MacGyver reflexively trying to hide the obvious pain he was in as he carefully rose from the spare bed to take a seat in an armchair pulled up by Terry’s bedside.

This should never have happened, the Director of Operations thought miserably. In the old days the DXS and the Phoenix Foundation had always been able to work together amicably and openly. Yet in the last few years so many joint operations had gone bad because of rogue operatives in the DXS getting out of control.

The DXS had been struggling for several years to keep their own house in order, all the while trying to appear as if it was business as usual to the outside world. And now it had almost cost the lives of both an innocent woman and Pete’s best friend. Not to mention costing the lives of Terry’s brother and the Phoenix agent assigned to watch his house.

When were the DXS going to realise that they had to be straight with their working partners? If they had only given him all the information they had on Dr Fleming in the first place, none of this need ever have happened. Who knows, they may even have been able to save Terry’s brother too.

Pete shook his head and glanced at the unconscious woman lying in the bed. She was deathly pale. Her brown hair and slowly fading black eye were a stark contrast to the pallor of her skin. At least they had been able to save her, thanks to MacGyver. But even if Terry fully recovered from whatever was currently poisoning her system, she had still lost so much. Her brother, the only family she’d had left, was gone. Not even Mac could bring David back for her.

Turning his gaze to MacGyver, Pete found himself relaxing slightly when he saw the look on his friend’s face. There was enough kindness and love there to pull Terry through. Mac had always had an inherent ability to help people recover from whatever damage had befallen them. It was one of the things that made him such a special person, such a good friend. If anyone could help Terry get past these dark times and down the road to recovery, it would be MacGyver.

Mac barely noticed Pete as the older man pulled up a straight backed chair next to his friend and sat down, planning on staying for the duration now that everything else was already being done to help the young woman.

Pete patted MacGyver’s arm. “She’ll be okay, Mac. You should get some sleep. By the looks of things, Terry’s not the only one who needs to heal. I’ll keep an eye out,” he assured the younger man.

Mac glanced at him wearily, his nod barely perceptible, before he leaned his head on one hand and closed his eyes reluctantly.

Pete couldn’t help notice the finger-shaped bruises on Mac’s hand, their slender size giving away the probable identity of their owner. Somehow it seemed a fitting representation of how close these two people had become, as if they still held each other’s lives in their hands even when their physical contact had been severed. For the first time in too long, Pete found himself saying a silent prayer. Praying for Terry’s recovery, and the sooner the better.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the early hours of the morning Pete was just nodding off when he was brought abruptly down to earth by a blood curdling scream. Mac nearly fell out of his chair and then he was up and sitting on the edge of the bed, Terry’s hand in his own, whispering softly in an attempt to soothe her.

Realising she was still unconscious but in obvious pain, Pete quickly left to summon the doctor. Their hushed discussion in the corner of the room barely reached MacGyver whose entire being appeared to be focused on Terry.

“We can’t give her painkillers or sedatives until we know what the chemicals are in her bloodstream,” the doctor explained unhappily to Pete, “And the lab’s having trouble identifying everything in those vials. Perhaps if your people come up with the files…….” he trailed off with a shrug.

“Tell them to look for anything containing the names Edward or Frances,” Mac broke in suddenly, remembering the motivations behind David’s work.

Pete stared at him curiously, but Mac’s eyes never left Terry’s face as if he was willing her pain away. Pete shrugged, knowing better than to doubt him. He left the room, closely followed by the doctor, and headed for a telephone at the nurses’ station.

~~~~~~~~~~

The grey light of dawn, seeping through the window blinds, matched MacGyver’s mood as he forced himself to stay awake by standing beside Terry’s hospital bed. Several times he had found himself leaning against the rail or the windowsill and teetering on his feet as he nodded off.

Terry had been quiet for almost an hour now and Mac could no longer decide which way he preferred. At least when she was screaming he knew she was still capable of brain function. Now she was so quiet he couldn’t tell anything for sure.

“Terry, you still in there?” he murmured, squeezing her hand gently and wishing for a response for the umpteenth time. He was interrupted by a quiet knock on the door and he turned his gaze to see Pete enter, a look of excitement on his face.

“Mac, we found it! You were right! The files were hidden in the personnel database! We found two new employees, first names Edward and Frances, who didn’t exist before the date Dr Fleming contacted Phoenix computers. Inside their records was all the information and notes pertaining to the two drugs he was working on,” Pete barely paused for breath, “The lab is mixing a dose right now in accordance with David’s specifications for us to try on Terry.”

MacGyver leaned against the windowsill to steady himself. “When?”

“It should be ready in about an hour.”

Mac looked at his watch and then slumped in to the nearest chair, his strength leaving him as he realised he perhaps had but a single hour before he would find out what the remaining course of Terry’s life would hold.

Pete moved across and squeezed his shoulder, knowing exactly what was going through his mind. “Try to get some more rest, I’ll wake you as soon as the lab has finished.”

Mac nodded wearily and Pete moved away to take up his own seat again, glancing at the large luminous dial of his watch every few minutes as he marked time for his sleeping friend.

~~~~~~~~~~

By lunchtime the so-called antidote had been at work for several hours. Terry had not screamed or cried out in her sleep since before dawn. Her vital signs were being taken hourly but so far there was absolutely no change.

MacGyver had refused to leave except for one essential visit to the bathroom, when he had avoided looking in the mirror for fear of seeing the exhausted frightened face he knew would be staring back at him.

He had spent the rest of the morning dozing with Terry’s hand in his, woken at least every hour by the nurses needing to take the pulse and blood pressure of their unconscious patient. Pete had gone to get some food in the cafeteria, his offer to bring something back for Mac not taken up by the man who had no appetite.

Mac’s latest doze was interrupted by something tickling his palm and he opened his eyes and senses to the movement of Terry’s hand beneath his, a barely visible trembling that was the first sign of life in hours. As the motion became more agitated, spreading throughout her body, MacGyver watched her face change with a feeling of deja vu, bracing himself for what he hoped would come next. He was almost overcome with relief when he heard her soft familiar murmuring begin.

Right on cue, Terry screamed, sitting bolt upright with sickening suddenness. Her eyes opened wide in shock as the vivid images and emotions of a nightmare car crash all those years ago drifted slowly back into the dark recesses of her mind, to be replaced by new panic and confusion.

Blinking her vision briefly into focus, Terry found a pair of dark brown eyes watching her, gentle and kind. They highlighted a handsome, finely featured face that smiled reassuringly, sending a warm glow through her cold body.

As her senses gradually began to return, Terry concentrated on the sight of MacGyver, her vision blurring in and out nauseatingly. Her gaze cleared long enough to notice the bruises down the right side of his face, black and purple colour stretching from the lump on his temple to his cheekbone.

“MacGyver!” Terry found her voice with a strangled whisper. “What happened to you? Are you all right?”

Her question was met with a watery smile, tears of relief welling up in Mac’s eyes. “I am now,” he replied thickly, lifting her hand to press soft kisses to her fingertips. “How do you feel?”

Terry tilted her head slightly as she struggled to think clearly. “Cold!” she said at last.

Immediately MacGyver moved closer, pulling a woollen blanket off the end of the bed and wrapping her in it before wrapping himself over the top, holding her like he’d never let go, afraid that shock might set in as she began to remember all that had happened.

Terry leaned against him, stealing his warmth and suppressing shudders that she couldn’t tell whether they were from the cold or from the creeping fear that was slowly spreading through her body as vague memories began to return.

“Now how do you feel?” MacGyver asked, knowing there had to be more as she slowly regained her senses.

“Confused. Numb,” Terry faltered for a moment and MacGyver drew back to look at her.

“And?”

“And scared,” Terry admitted softly, lowering her gaze shamefully.

“You have a right to be afraid,” Mac said quietly, his own fears only now beginning to dissipate. “You’ve been through a lot. But you’re safe now, Terry. Nothing else bad is going to happen to you.”

“Promise?” she said weakly.

“I promise!” Mac smiled, profoundly relieved that he could finally be sure of the truth in that vow. “Now you just have to get well so I can take you away from this place! Roadie misses you terribly.”

“I missed you both too,” Terry smiled feebly, hugging him tighter and relaxing in his arms a fraction.

After a few minutes, Terry was asleep again and MacGyver gently laid her back onto the bed and tucked the blankets round her to keep her warm. Then he tiptoed to the door and signalled a nurse to tell the doctor that the patient had revived at last.

When Pete returned from the cafeteria five minutes later, he found Mac asleep in the chair with a smile brightening his exhausted features. And, by the time he had chatted with the doctor, Pete felt for sure that things were going to turn out just fine.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Pete, I need to get her out of here,” MacGyver pleaded with his friend tiredly. “You know she’ll be much better off at home. She’s climbing the walls in here. Help me, please?”

Pete studied Mac for a moment, noting how haggard and exhausted he looked. In the two days since Terry had first woken up, MacGyver hadn’t left her bedside for more than a few minutes at a time. He’d eaten only a little and dozed in the chair for barely more than a few hours and, frankly, he didn’t look much better than the patient.

Since her initial bright outlook, Terry’s recovery had slowed. She was becoming more and more withdrawn and her nightmares were getting worse. The doctors were concerned with her mental state and had told Pete as much. They were also becoming worried about Mac’s deteriorating well being.

MacGyver tried once more to convince his doubting friend, “Pete, she’s claustrophobic! She’s trapped in here. Terry just needs to get out of this place. She needs to go home where she won’t be afraid to show her feelings. She needs to grieve for God’s sake!”

He wiped a palm over his face, “Please Pete, give her a chance to recover. Give us a chance. If she’s forced to stay here much longer, they’ll lock her up, and then they might as well lock me up too! You can persuade them to let me take her home. I can look after her, you know I will,” Mac finished quietly.

Finally, Pete relented, “Okay, but only if you promise to bring her in for a check up every couple of days until she gets the complete all clear.” Mac nodded willingly. “I’ll go and talk to the doctor,” Pete said resignedly, heading down to the nurses’ station as MacGyver went back inside Terry’s room.

Pete was as good as his word. Two hours later Mac carried Terry into what had been David’s home to be greeted by an overexcited Roadie. The dog had been collected by one of the Phoenix agents from the neighbour that MacGyver had been forced to leave him with several days earlier before he’d offered himself up as bait to the men holding Terry.

Mac laid Terry gently on the sofa ordering her to “Stay and don’t move”. When Roadie also followed his order and sat down abruptly, straight onto Mac’s foot, Terry’s laughter told him that he’d definitely done the right thing in getting her out of the hospital.

Having freed his foot, MacGyver stepped over to the wide sliding doors and drew the curtains back to reveal the bright sunlit back garden, glad that Pete had arranged for the broken glass door to be fixed whilst they were holed up in the safehouse the previous week.

He turned back to the patient, swirled his arm in the air and bowed regally, “Is there anything I can get m’lady?”

Terry smiled weakly, “Actually I’d love some hot tea and a blanket. I just don’t seem to be able to get warm lately.” Mac nodded and disappeared into the kitchen to put the kettle on. He returned within seconds, lifting a blanket off the back of a chair.

“Listen, I think what you need is to sit outside. Fresh air and sunshine will do you the world of good. And tomorrow, if you’re feeling better, I’ll take you down to the ocean,” he offered, dangling it like a carrot for her temptation.

Terry nodded eagerly and MacGyver unlocked the sliding doors and pulled them open wide. Roadie ran outside immediately, but quickly returned to see what was keeping his mistress.

“Do you want to try this by yourself?” Mac asked, offering a hand to steady her as she took to her feet for the first time in days. Terry swung her legs off the sofa. A pair of thick socks covered her feet, tucked over her sweatpants and, along with a warm sweater, baggily covered her too thin torso. She stood slowly and gingerly, her eyes fixed on the doors that would provide her escape at last. Then she carefully slid one foot in front of the other as though learning to walk for the first time.

“Just like riding a bicycle!” She relaxed slightly, “Always a bit wobbly at first.” She stopped when her head felt dizzy, then it cleared and she dropped Mac’s hand to go the rest of the way on her own, carefully lowering herself onto one of the wooden lounger chairs out near the pool. She shielded her eyes from the sun, the bright light blinding her after being cooped up in the hospital for so long.

MacGyver watched from the door protectively, beginning to relax himself now that he felt she really was on the road to recovery at last. He waited for her to get settled, then turned and went inside, fetching tea and the blanket in case she got chilly.

By late afternoon, he’d plied her with hot soup and watched her sleeping deeply with no sign of the claustrophobia induced nightmares that had been occurring more and more frequently in the hospital, wearing her down mentally as well as physically.

Now, surrounded by open space and homely comforts, she was resting easier, just as Mac had hoped. That thought brought tears to Mac’s eyes and he knew he had been worn down and stressed out to the point of exhaustion himself. Terry wasn’t the only one in desperate need of a good night’s sleep.

Glancing at his watch, MacGyver made a decision. With the sun slowly waning, he scooped Terry’s sleeping form into his arms and carried her inside, up the stairs to her bedroom. He left her briefly to return downstairs and lock the sliding doors, double checking that the rest of the house was secure, and berating himself for his paranoia, before collecting Roadie and going back up to Terry’s bedroom.

Mac left the curtains open to the evening sun and stood watching Terry sleep for a moment, memories and emotions of their previous encounters in that room flooding his senses. Finally he shook himself and stooped down to pull off his sneakers and socks, followed by his jeans and sweatshirt, pulling the tight collar over his head, leaving his hair spiked and tousled even more than usual.

Standing in only his mid length briefs, MacGyver moved to the bed and lifted Terry to a sitting position. “Bed!” he whispered as she moaned softly at the movement. Terry’s lips curved into a seductive smile. “Sleep!” Mac said to clear up any confusion.

“Oh!” Terry pouted, her eyes still tightly closed, but she moved to try to pull her socks off and get undressed.

“It’s okay. I’ll do it,” Mac grinned, helping her take off her socks and sweatpants, before pulling her sweater over her head, leaving her T-shirt on to cover her nudity. Then he pulled back the covers and settled her down beneath them, tucking them warmly around her and adding an extra blanket for good measure before moving around to the other side and sliding in himself.

Terry nuzzled up to his warm body, her legs and arms entwining with his, stealing his warmth and his comfort as she slipped back into a deep sleep.

MacGyver lay awake for a few minutes, listening to her steady breathing, his hands stroking her arm wrapped across his naked chest. Then he closed his eyes and let himself drift off to sleep in a bed for the first time in days.

~~~~~~~~~~

MacGyver awoke with a gasp, confusion washing over him like the waves that had been drowning him in his nightmare. Then he remembered where he was and he shifted slightly, rolling over to listen for Terry’s shallow breathing. But her side of the bed was empty, she was gone.

Mac sat bolt upright, blinking in the murky darkness as he surveyed the room, but she was nowhere to be seen. Quickly he got out of bed and pulled on his jeans, heading onto the landing. He paused, listening for any sound, about to give up and start searching each room when he heard muffled piano notes, soft and delicate drifting up towards him.

When padded paws echoed MacGyver’s bare feet down the wooden varnished staircase, he realised Roadie was following him. At the bottom he told the dog to stay, then Mac turned towards the living room where the door was firmly closed.

Quietly, he turned the handle and pushed. The room was dark and shadowy, the only illumination coming through the sliding doors from the city lights outside.

Silhouetted in her seat on the piano stool was Terry, bent over the baby grand, her shoulders slumped in defeat. Her fingers again tried to tease a soft haunting tune from the ebony and ivory keys, completely unaware that she was now being watched as she faltered, getting the notes mixed up and jamming her hand down with a tuneless crunch.

She sighed heavily, laying her arms across the top of the piano and resting her forehead on them as she stared down at the keys as if she could will them to play by thought alone. After a few moments, she lifted one hand back to the keys again and played a few notes, softly and too slowly to identify any tune.

MacGyver couldn’t simply stand by and watch her pain any longer. “I don’t recognise that,” he said quietly, breaking the silence and hoping not to scare her. Terry looked up, her eyes like an empty glass. She didn’t speak and eventually Mac filled the void, “What was that you were playing?”

Moving slowly, he stepped closer, sitting down beside her on the piano stool when she finally replied, so softly he could barely hear her.

“It was something my mother taught me. David’s favourite,” her throat closed over the words, constricting convulsively, and Mac saw tears filling her eyes, her lips moving futilely before she finally managed to speak again. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”

MacGyver nodded slowly, his eyes filled with compassion. “But not from your heart,” he whispered, taking Terry in his arms as she began to cry. The grief that had been buried, festering inside her for days, now found its outlet, overwhelming her with wracking, shuddering sobs so filled with pain and loss that tears fell from Mac’s own eyes as he shared her sorrow and felt immense relief that she had broken down at last. Hopefully now the true healing could start for her.

It was a long time before Terry loosened her hold around him sufficiently for Mac to move her across to the more comfortable couch, switching on the tablelamp and pulling a blanket around her shoulders when he noticed that she only had sweat pants and a T-shirt on.

Eventually Terry pulled away from his soggy chest. “You’re all wet,” she sniffled.

Mac shrugged, studying her closely. “How about I make you some hot tea?” he offered gently. Terry considered for a moment and then nodded slightly, her watery gaze following him as he stood up from the couch.

Before he could step away MacGyver felt her hand grab his wrist with surprising strength and he heard her sharp intake of breath. “Terry, what is it?” he turned back worriedly. “You all right?”

Terry was staring at the multicoloured bruises across his chest and ribcage, revealed in all their glory by the lamplight beside him. It was the first time she had seen them, and new tears glistened in her eyes at their shocking impact.

“Oh, MacGyver!” she cried out distraughtly, “What did they do to you!”

“Hey…….hey,” Mac bent down in front of her, hating to see her in further distress and wishing he’d had the sense to put a sweatshirt on over his jeans. “Hey…….Terry, it’s okay. It’s nothing. Honest.”

He stroked her cheek with his hand, bobbing his head to meet her tearful gaze with a shining smile. “You know, you didn’t look so great either, after your run in with those guys!” Mac pretended to look hurt as he added, “Actually, I think I did pretty well considering. At least, I didn’t get a wrenched shoulder!”

That last comment worked better and Terry met his gaze, her doubtful eyes vaguely reassured by his smiling words. Then her face fell again as she recalled the circumstances under which she had obtained that particular injury.

“I miss him so much,” she admitted forlornly, more tears starting to flow down her cheeks in what seemed like a neverending flood of grief.

“I know, sweetheart,” MacGyver said tenderly, all thoughts of tea forgotten. He sat back down on the sofa and enfolded Terry in his arms once more. “It will get easier,” he said when her sobs eventually began to subside again. “You know that as well as I do.”

Terry’s nod was only detectable by her silky hair tickling his chest. “It’s just so hard to believe they’re gone, Mac. All my family are gone! I’m all alone,” she exclaimed, utterly miserable.

“No you’re not, Terry. You’ll never be alone. I’m here. And Roadie’s here,” MacGyver assured her softly. “And your family will always be with you, no matter where you are.”

She peered up at him, the desolate look on her face tugging at his heartstrings. “How did you cope?” she asked huskily.

“Friends…….and work,” he said simply.

Terry thought about that for a moment. “Guess, I’d better get a job then!” she finally responded, attempting to smile. The weak effect on her tearstreaked face, pale and puffy in the lamplight, was still the most wondrous sight Mac had seen in a while.

He smiled back at her. “Just don’t forget you wanted your next contract to be in LA because you miss the ocean!”

“Actually, I think I said it had to be anywhere along the Pacific coast,” Terry recalled. “But I guess LA would save me and Roadie a lot of commuting! Assuming I’ve got something to come home for…….”

Mac met her questioning gaze with a firm nod. “Always,” he assured her.

Terry relaxed into his arms, silent in her own thoughts as she struggled to come to terms with her loss and the changes it would make to her future.

David’s house, almost bought and paid for by now, would become her own, but could she stay there with all the memories that surrounded her constantly? Whenever she was there, terrifying memories from the previous week kept pushing to the fore with far greater intensity than any happy images of her brother. But if she sold the house and moved away wasn’t there a danger that she would be wiping out the good memories along with the bad?

“I’m afraid that I’ll forget him,” Terry eventually admitted quietly. “And that if I forget him he’ll cease to have ever existed.”

“The scientists at the Phoenix Foundation have been doing tests on David’s formulas. They think his discovery could be useful in several different applications. His work could help a lot of innocent people in this world. That will never be forgotten,” Mac pointed out thoughtfully.

“Besides, what makes you think you’ll forget about him?” He threw her a puzzled look as she pulled away from his embrace and sat back into the corner of the sofa, crossing her legs in front of her like a barrier. “David will always be a part of you, Terry, whether you realise it or not,” he added softly.

Terry turned away to stare at some distant image that only she could see. “But what if by being happy I’ll forget about him,” she said in a tiny voice.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” Mac gently urged her to put her feelings more fully into words.

“What I mean is…….I…….I don’t know what I mean!” Terry gestured frustratedly, struggling to get her clamouring thoughts straight in her head.

MacGyver waited patiently until she eventually spoke again, “I think what I mean is…….how do I know that falling in love with you isn’t just my way of coping with the loss of my brother?”

Mac suppressed a sigh, fighting to keep his voice even, “By being honest with yourself, Terry!” He let out a breath slowly before continuing more calmly, “You knew what was happening between us long before you had any inkling something was wrong with David.”

“Terry, don’t punish yourself for being happy. Or for loving someone other than your brother.” Mac reached for her hand, his voice full of emotion, “You’re not betraying David by loving someone else, Terry. Lord knows, you’ve got enough love inside you to share among a million people!”

“I don’t want to share it among a million people, Mac,” she said softly, “I want to share it with you.” Terry swallowed hard, “But why do I feel so guilty about that?”

Mac studied her, choosing his words carefully, “I’m not a substitute for David, Terry. I never will be. Deep down you know that.” He rubbed a palm over his face. “I don’t think what you’re feeling is guilt, I think it’s confusion. You’re experiencing two different but very strong emotions at the same time and it’s not a good mixture.”

He paused, waiting until Terry met his gaze with the question in her eyes, before he continued, “On the one hand you need to grieve for your brother. But on the other hand you have all this love inside that you need to express and you’ve finally found the person you want to share it with.”

“Terry,” Mac entwined his fingers with hers, his voice soft but firm, “David would be happy for you. He would want you to live your life the way he taught you. To grab every chance. Welcome it with open arms. Your brother would want you to do whatever makes you happy.”

He watched her closely, seeing her weighing up his words before she could accept them. When she looked away MacGyver found himself holding his breath, suddenly unsure which way she would go. From her expression it was almost as if Terry was seeking her brother’s opinion too. Then she slowly nodded, a slight smile curving her lips as she turned back to face him.

“You’re right, Mac, I know you are. It’s just going to take some time to get used to such a weird conflict of emotion, that’s all,” she shrugged ingenuously.

“Nobody said it was going to be easy,” Mac responded. “Nothing ever is. It wouldn’t be worth doing if it was easy, now would it?”

Terry smiled at that thought, “I guess not.”

She contemplated him for another long moment, then shifted towards him, wrapping her arms around him in an appreciative hug. “Thanks, MacGyver.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, his hands encircling her warmly. Beneath his fingertips he could feel the outline of Terry’s ribcage through the thin T-shirt where she had lost far too much weight during the entire ordeal. “You’re going to get cold,” he murmured tenderly.

“Actually, I’m fine,” she said in surprise, sitting up to look him in the eye. “I don’t feel cold at all, for the first time in days…….” Terry faltered, remembering the anguish she had felt several days before, new salty tears pricking her eyelids. “I thought I’d lost you,” she whispered.

“I thought you’d been killed,” MacGyver admitted, swallowing convulsively at the harrowing memory.

Terry gazed at him for a long time, a question forming on her face until Mac nodded confirmation. “Love you too,” he reiterated. Then he remembered something he’d been meaning to return, digging in both pockets of his jeans until he’d retrieved the item.

“Found this,” he said quietly. “Thought I’d better keep it for you.” He lifted the gold chain and heart shaped pendant, catching the light with it as he dangled it in front of her. “Pete had it mended,” he added, not really surprised to see more tears welling up in Terry’s eyes as she recalled the moment he had presented her with it.

“Can I wear it?” she asked with a sense of deja vu.

MacGyver nodded eagerly, feeling for the clasp and leaning around her to fasten it. He laid it down against her neck and lifted her hair out from beneath the chain, sitting back to admire the way it nestled brightly against her white T-shirt.

His eyes raised to meet hers and he felt himself drowning in her watery gaze. Terry leaned in to kiss him, a soft sweet test of his responsiveness that did not go unappreciated. She drew away and smiled at the “Wow” MacGyver made with his lips in silent retort. Then she moved in once more and kissed him harder.

Mac’s arms enveloped her, providing comfort in her needful embrace, both of them seeking solace and reassurance after all that had happened, and finding that one thing hadn’t changed, the depth of love between them.

They parted breathlessly some minutes later when Mac scooped her into his arms and announced that it was time she got back to bed. The sound of Terry’s soft laughter spread through the quiet house as he carried her up the stairs, now firmly on the path to recovery.

Roadie watched them go, his head tilted to one side as he tried futilely to understand the antics of these two beloved humans. Then he laid back down at the bottom of the stairs with his head on his paws and closed his eyes to return to sweet doggy dreams.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two months had passed and it was becoming increasingly clear to Pete that MacGyver had lost all interest in his work. He had turned down several of the most tempting projects the Director of Operations could find to offer him and the one time Mac had left the country since meeting Terry, he had almost blown the mission and nearly got himself and his contact killed.

The last three weeks had been even worse. The Attorney General had yet to decide how to prosecute the case against the former DXS agent Dickson. That was a complicated matter that encompassed the selling of State secrets as well as his involvement in the capital crime of murder. But the case against the three surviving mercenaries was a lot simpler and MacGyver had spent the duration of the last three weeks at the courthouse with Terry where the trials of two of the accused men had been taking place back to back.

The first case had concluded easily thanks to Terry’s eyewitness testimony and the heap of irrefutable evidence built up against the defendant. There were ballistics tests from the gun, found covered in incriminating fingerprints, the powder burns on the defendant’s hands, and the bullet extracted from the victim. It all added up to a successful conviction and life sentence for the murder of the Phoenix agent outside of David Fleming’s home.

That trial had been swift and painless in comparison with the second case that began the day after the first one had completed sentencing. This case was against the blond, bulky mercenary with a malevolent leer who had been largely responsible for Terry’s beating inside her brother’s house and who was now being charged with the murder of David Fleming.

The man may only have been following orders from the group’s leader, but that didn’t make him any less culpable. Since the leader was dead and the third mercenary in the group had plea- bargained down to a manslaughter charge on the condition that he also testify against his cohorts, it ought to have been another open and shut case. But the defendant had pleaded not guilty, so the facts still had to be heard. And it turned out that the defending lawyer was more than capable of a convincing argument.

Terry had already been forced to attend the hearing several days in a row without being called to testify yet. When it finally became her turn to appear in the witness box, Pete happened to also be present having gone along that day to lend his own moral support as the trial dragged on.

From the beginning, it seemed that neither the prosecution nor defence lawyers had any interest in making things easy or gentle for the witness. Both verbally assaulted her with incessant questions in their efforts to establish the moral, or amoral, character of the defendant.

As Director of Operations for the Phoenix Foundation, Pete could understand their actions from the point of view that each lawyer was doing what had to be done to conclude the case successfully. But it was still extremely unpleasant to watch and clearly even worse to be on the receiving end.

There were no witnesses to David Fleming’s murder and no direct evidence that could tie the defendant to the scene of the crime. No fingerprints were found on the body, nor any DNA samples that could be tested. The prosecution did have an enormous amount of circumstantial evidence found at the freight yard. They had been able to ascertain exactly where the victim had died, inside the same refrigeration lorry where Terry had later been held herself.

They also had the other mercenary’s plea-bargained testimony that revealed he had seen the defendant beat the victim before carrying him into the lorry, but at that point the victim had still been alive. Whatever happened after that had not been seen by anyone now living except presumably by the defendant himself, and he certainly wasn’t talking about it.

The prosecution had a job to do and that meant getting every minute detail about every encounter with the defendant out of the witness, and seemingly several times over. But if Terry looked browbeaten and exhausted by the time her own side had finished questioning her, things were about to take a turn for the worst.

The defendant’s lawyer was a woman. It was an obvious ploy to gain some level of affinity from the jurors towards the male defendant, playing on the simple ingrained attitude that if a female was defending him, he couldn’t possibly be as bad as the prosecution was making him out to be.

For a brief instant, the fact that the defence lawyer was a woman even made Pete think that the cross examination of Terry’s testimony might be fairly painless. Unfortunately, he was quickly proven wrong. From the moment the lawyer opened her mouth, the direction of questions towards the witness was brutally calculated to break Terry down and make her appear confused and unreliable.

It was hard enough for Pete to watch and he could feel MacGyver, in the seat next to him, becoming more tense and agitated as they were forced to witness the overtly cruel and relentless dismantling of Terry’s character.

Pete placed a firm hand on Mac’s arm. “She’s strong Mac, it’ll be all right,” he assured his friend quietly.

“I know, Pete,” Mac sighed. “I just don’t know how much more she can possibly take. Or for that matter how much more I can take!”

When Terry’s resolute facade had been demolished to her utmost satisfaction, the lawyer finally got to the point of her seemingly endless tirade. “Miss Wightman, isn’t it true that you stand to gain substantially as a result of your brother’s death?”

The collective intake of breath could be felt and heard rippling across the courtroom, but Terry simply stared at the defence lawyer speechlessly, the look on her face saying it all. All this latest accusation did was confirm her earlier feelings when she had discovered a female was actually going to defend that malicious man – this lawyer was definitely a raving lunatic.

Unperturbed by the witness’ lack of response, the woman continued to clarify her point, “Before your brother died, you were homeless and jobless. Now you own a prestigious house in an upscale location and stand to gain several hundred thousand from his insurance payout.”

Terry gaped at the woman as though she was talking gibberish. She hadn’t even known that David had a life insurance policy. The meeting with David’s lawyer had yet to take place. Terry had been avoiding it for weeks, knowing it would be the final nail in the coffin that signalled David’s passing.

The defendant’s lawyer continued to rant, revealing even more startling news, “And the work Dr Fleming did for the DXS is worth millions in sales to government and private security agencies. Millions that you, Miss Wightman, now stand to gain under the terms of the agreement that your brother signed when he went to work for the DXS.”

Those final words caused Terry to throw a startled glance at MacGyver, seeking any affirmation that there might be some truth in what the woman was saying. Equally bewildered, Mac could only shrug and look towards Pete for help. But it was clear that neither of them knew any more about such an agreement than Terry herself did.

“So, Miss Wightman,” the lawyer tried to suppress her smug smile as she wound up for the winning punch, “Do you deny that you stand to gain substantially from the death of your brother?”

At that point the prosecution finally made a feeble attempt to object on the grounds that the question was irrelevant. But it was quickly overruled by the judge, who was awaiting an answer from the witness with as much interest as the twelve jurors and an entire courtroom full of attendees and reporters.

“The witness may answer the question,” the judge nodded, turning towards Terry expectantly.

But Terry was staring at the female lawyer in shock, not knowing what to say, but unable to avoid the apparent truth in the woman’s statements.

“Do you deny that you stand to gain millions of dollars from the death of your brother?” the woman badgered loudly.

“I…….I,” Terry stumbled, her mind in absolute disarray. “I don’t know,” she said feebly. “I…….I guess so, if what you’re saying is true.”

Satisfied that she had completely demolished the credibility of the prosecution’s material witness, the lawyer addressed the judge, smiling sweetly, “I have no further questions, your Honour.” Then she turned and strutted back to take her seat beside the defendant who was struggling to hide his smug leer from the jury and act the perfect model citizen as his lawyer had instructed.

“But no amount of money is ever going to make up for what that man did to my brother!” Terry suddenly found her voice, her pain filled words carrying clearly across the courtroom as her voice rose, gaining in strength and conviction. “David never hurt anyone in his life. He only ever wanted to do good in this world, and that man tortured and murdered him for it!”

Standing up from her seat, Terry pointed towards the defendant, tears finally running down her face, much to the prosecution’s relief, who knew how a few female tears could often sway a jury right back where he wanted them.

“He was my brother and you murdered him!” Terry yelled bitterly, trying futilely to keep her emotions in check, to not break down in such a public place.

The defence lawyer scowled slightly and quickly called for a recess, not wanting to allow the witness any more time to gain sympathy or say anything else that might be damaging towards the defendant.

The judge looked at his watch and decided to call it a day, his own relief clearly visible that this particular lengthy session was over.

As the courtroom started to bustle with movement, voices rapidly rising into a humming crescendo, the downtrodden witness was led from the stand by the court usher and into MacGyver’s waiting arms.

After a brief exchange of words, Pete went to have his driver pull the car around to the side entrance to collect them. For Terry’s sake, he wanted to avoid any of the reporters and photographers who had been constantly hanging around the high profile case, waiting for snippets of soundbites and pictures like buzzards around dead carrion.

So it was with a feeling of utter relief that they reached the car without being spotted. The journey home was made in silence. MacGyver sat with Terry in the back seat, his arm around her shoulders protectively as she mentally fought to separate truth from the exaggeration of a rabid defence lawyer.

The woman’s accusations echoed over and over in Terry’s head, clouding her judgment and reason until she could no longer think straight. Tears of despondency and grief slid down her cheeks, soaking into Mac’s shirt as he pulled her closer into his comforting embrace.

He wished there was something he could say to help, but decided to respect her silence. At least until they were alone, together, in private. So the journey ended wordlessly when Pete’s driver dropped MacGyver and Terry off at Mac’s houseboat where they had been lying low for the duration of the trial.

~~~~~~~~~~