All In The Past – Part Three

The frightening scene seemed more vivid than ever before. The splashes of blood red colour were a stark contrast to the whiteness surrounding them. The frozen virgin snow into which they had compacted, the cold that had saved them from dying in a ball of fire, now threatened to take their lives in its own inimitable way.

Even at that young age, Terry knew her father was dead and that there was nothing she could do about it, but all the time her mother was still alive there was always hope. Her Mom could do anything when she put her mind to it, that’s what David always said.

As her mother reached across and pulled, the ten year old girl tried one more time to move her legs, crying from the pain caused by the effort. But she couldn’t budge, she was trapped beneath the wreckage that once resembled the driver’s seat where her father had been when they span off the road on the patch of black ice.

Terry shivered in her sleep. Deep within her nightmare, the cold began to numb the searing pain in her legs. Distantly she heard her mother, a grave voice giving her careful instructions, “Curl up as small as you can, honey, that will help you keep warm. Pull the blanket round tight. Now start counting, real slow. And concentrate, I don’t want to hear you miss a number or lose count, okay?”

The girl nodded tearfully, frightened and cold. “Keep counting and I promise I’ll be back before you reach five hundred.”

“No, Mommy, don’t leave me. Please don’t go!” the child pleaded.

“I’m not going to leave you, I promise. I’m just going to get out and see if I can find help. I’ll be straight back.” With that, the kind loving gaze of her mother, the adult image that the ten year old girl would grow up to reflect, was gone.

The girl started counting, her voice trembling and pitiful as she tried to follow her Mom’s instructions to the letter. She had just reached 498 when she heard the crunching of feet on frozen snow, and her Mom’s head reappeared through the open passenger side of the vehicle.

“There, told you I’d be back before you reached five hundred!” She smiled, but Terry could see the new fear and concern in her eyes, a depth she could not hide.

“Mommy? Are we going to be all right?” she asked in a frightened voice.

“Yes honey, we’ll be fine. We might just have to stay here a little longer, that’s all. Now make sure you keep warm okay? I don’t want you catching a chill.”

As ordered the little girl gathered the blanket around her even tighter, reaching one small hand out to hold her mother’s rapidly freezing fingers.

In the midst of Terry’s nightmare, hours passed in seconds as her mother told stories of balmy exotic islands in the Caribbean in an effort to convince them both of warmth. Gradually her voice faded to nothing. The grip of her fingers, held by Terry’s small hand beneath the blanket she had been wrapped in, slowly loosened.

The young girl awoke from her icy doze as she felt the contact slip, the life ebbing away. “Mommy!” she called out helplessly, “Don’t leave me! Mommy!”

~~~~~~~~~~

MacGyver woke slowly, trying to figure out what had disturbed him, then he heard it again. Terry was murmuring in her sleep, a soft frightened call, pitiful and childlike.

“Mommy, don’t leave me,” the ten year old sobbed, stricken by grief and terror. “Please don’t go! Mommy!” But the woman’s strength was gone, her body frozen beyond the capacity for survival, no matter how much she willed it. No matter how much she didn’t want to leave her precious daughter to die alone, Frances Fleming Wightman could last no longer. Her slow heartbeat finally stopped and the last breath left her lips in a soft sigh of prayer for her daughter’s soul.

“No!” Terry screamed, a loud haunting shriek of grief as her mother’s hand went limp in hers, the dead weight dropping away from her weak grip.

MacGyver sat bolt upright at the harrowing cry, his heart thudding in his chest, just as Terry did the same, woken from the depths of her nightmare by her own horrendous scream. Roadie barked, standing up on the bed, alert and on guard.

For a long moment Terry stared wide eyed at MacGyver, breathing hard and glad for the darkness surrounding them so he couldn’t see how much she was shaking. She wondered vaguely what he was doing there, sitting in an armchair watching over her again like some fragile possession, and a flare of anger and annoyance rose up inside her to counter her profound embarrassment.

“What are you doing here?” Terry asked in an accusing manner that she knew was completely irrational but could not help.

MacGyver recoiled slightly, a hurt look mixing with the confusion on his face. “I’m assigned to protect you, remember?”

“Well do you have to do it so close?” Terry snapped, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her good arm around them defensively. “Can’t I even dream in private anymore?” She wiped a shaking hand over eyes that were threatening tears.

“Terry,” Mac said gently, placing a hand on her arm and feeling her trembling, “That scream was enough to wake the dead. I could have been watching from outside in the street and I’d still have heard that scream.” He smiled tenderly, “And I’d still have been worried about you.”

Terry stared at him in the darkness, his features lit by the moonlight streaming through the windows. He had such an open honest face, the kindness in his eyes so deep it tugged her heart just to look into them after what she had just said.

“I’m sorry Mac, I…….I didn’t mean to snap at you.” She lowered her gaze, “I was just a little…….”

“Shaken?” Terry nodded slowly, still avoiding his eyes. “You weren’t the only one!” MacGyver said softly, “What was that all about?”

Terry shrugged lopsidedly, unable to tell him and deeply embarrassed for crying out like that in front of him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I…….I haven’t screamed out loud like that in years,” she trailed off awkwardly, feeling feeble and foolish, her cheeks flaming.

MacGyver shifted from the chair to the mattress, taking her hand in his. He studied her downturned eyes, her tense, quivering body, and eventually he asked, “Terry, what happened to your mother?”

“She died,” Terry replied in a tiny voice, so forlorn that Mac’s heart clenched at the sound.

“How?” he pressed gently, trying to get her to talk about it for her own sake as much as his curiosity and need to feel trusted.

“In Austria, in a car crash,” Terry said, pulling her hand away from him and hugging her knees even tighter to her chest, uncomfortable with the line of questioning, but not knowing how she could avoid telling this man everything he wanted to know.

Mac pulled his long legs up onto the bed and crossed them in front of him, leaning his elbows on his knees and resting his chin on his hands as he studied her. “I know you don’t want to talk about it,” he said quietly, “I know how much it hurts to lose someone like that. It was a long time before I could talk about my Dad’s death with anyone, even my Mom. But when I finally did, it helped us both come to terms with it. Maybe it will help you,” he offered tentatively, “That is, if you trust me enough to share.”

That final comment caught Terry by surprise and she looked at him at last, “MacGyver, I trust you completely. I trust you with my life!”

“You sure?”

Terry nodded, loosening her tense posture to reach out and touch his hand, a small gesture that meant a lot to Mac, and perhaps a sign that he was beginning to break through her taut defences.

“I just don’t know if I can talk about it.” She paused, searching for the words, “I mean, I haven’t spoken about it since I was eleven years old and then the only person I could really talk to was David.” She shook her head sorrowfully and MacGyver could see she was wondering where her brother was and what might be happening to him.

“He’ll be all right,” Mac tried to reassure her, but Terry shook her head again.

“I think something’s happened to him,” she whispered, almost afraid to voice her fear.

“What makes you say that?” Mac asked curiously.

“Because in the last ten years, the only time I’ve screamed out loud in that dream is when there’s been something wrong with David,” Terry said hesitantly. “Six years ago it was acute appendicitis, four years before that he’d been knocked off his bicycle and ended up in intensive care.”

“Terry, don’t you think it could simply be because of everything you’ve been through? Because you saw him kidnapped?” Mac suggested gently. “And almost being captured yourself…….If it hadn’t been for you shooting that guy in the foot…….,” he trailed off, still uncomfortable with the amount of times he had failed to protect her in the last few days.

“I thought you hated guns?” Terry pointed out.

“Well, yeah. But, under the circumstances, I can’t see you had any other choice. And you certainly picked a good place to aim it!”

“Ah, at last I meet with the magnificent MacGyver’s approval!” Terry teased softly.

Mac looked at her oddly. “Terry, you’ve always met with my approval, from the very first moment I saw you,” he flushed pink at the admittance.

Terry stared at him, somewhat astonished by his words, then she finally stretched out her legs and tentatively moved to hug him. MacGyver wrapped his arms around her, absorbing the warmth of her contact as if he had thought he might not get another chance.

He reconsidered the close calls she’d had in the last two days and especially the previous morning at David’s house, wondering how he could prevent something like that happening again when Terry was so headstrong. Short of handcuffing her to him!

Mac grinned at the thought, then he loosened his hold and looked at her. “Has anyone ever told you how brave you are?” he asked.

“Not since I was ten,” Terry said, glancing away, her voice tinged with sadness. Mac regarded her curiously until she eventually explained quietly, “My mother told me that just before she died.”

“I thought you were eleven when that happened?”

“I was by the time I woke up.” Mac frowned again until Terry reluctantly expanded on her comment, “I was in a coma for six weeks. It’s one hell of a way to spend a birthday!”

“Want to tell me about it?” MacGyver asked gently.

“Not really,” Terry admitted truthfully.

“Will you anyway?” Mac urged, looking into her eyes and holding her gaze until she glanced away nervously.

“It’s just a long, tedious melodrama!” Terry said, trying to deflect him.

Mac shrugged, “I’m a captive audience. Besides, I like melodramas, the soapier the better!”

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” she said lamely, running out of excuses and wondering why it was so important that he wouldn’t give up.

“Start at the beginning,” MacGyver suggested quietly.

“All of it?” Terry asked, surprised when MacGyver nodded, but even more surprised when she realised she was seriously considering telling him. Maybe he was right. Maybe it would help, both of them even.

Without thinking, Mac began stroking her back, a slow, tender caress as he waited, silently watching her. He was about to relent, deciding perhaps she would never reveal any more of her life to him, when Terry began to speak in a low tone. It was a tale she never related, but which she had relived countless times in her life, asleep and awake, every vivid detail so clear in her mind’s eye.

“You know, I never really liked snow when I was a kid, I think because when I was about seven I asked David about his father. He showed me pictures of Hungary, Soviet troops in the snow. He didn’t exactly pull any punches, I think that’s why I’ve always loved him so much. He looked out for me like big brothers should, but even though I was almost seven years younger than him, he never treated me like a baby.”

“David told me everything that had happened in 1956, and I began to understand what drove my mother, why she campaigned so hard despite my father’s disapproval. He apparently thought she should be at home baking cookies and making dresses. I think my father was too busy working his way up the corporate ladder to even notice the Sixties!”

“Then in the Fall of 1971, for some reason Dad suggested a long trip to Europe, my first time abroad. His idea didn’t exactly go down well at first. David was in his senior year so he had to stay behind. I didn’t want to go without him and Mom didn’t want to leave the country at such a turbulent time. Then my dad suggested trying to visit Budapest to see her first husband’s family plot and that won Mom round. But me, I hated snow, and when David got the atlas out and showed me all those snow capped mountains we would drive through, I practically had a screaming fit!” Terry grimaced at the memory, shifting back on the bed to lean against the headboard, her legs crossed in front of her.

“So what happened?” Mac asked curiously.

“Well, I was only ten!” Terry smiled slightly, “Ten year olds are not unknown for having illogical temper tantrums. My parents did what any parents would do. They ignored me, and off to Europe we went!”

“By the time we reached Austria, I had seen some of the most amazing cities. I even began to like snow once Mom and Dad showed me the sort of fun you could have in it. But I still missed David and I missed the ocean and I missed being warmed by the sun,” she trailed off and Mac could tell she was thinking about her brother again.

When she continued, it was with a quiet voice of detachment, as though she were relating a purely fictional tale instead of some real life tragedy. “We were on the last leg of our journey, through the Austrian Alps, heading for Hungary. It was starting to get dark already and, with the heaters on inside the car, I guess no one realised how fast the temperature outside was falling.”

“The shiny puddles looked like rain, but they were actually ice. The car skidded on a bend and went through the wooden barrier over the edge. Apparently about thirty yards downhill it hit a tree, bounced off and ploughed into a snowdrift.”

Terry stared unfocused into a dark corner of the room, recalling the scene so clearly despite the passing of the years. “When I woke up I thought I was in heaven. Everything was white. But it was just snow covering the windows, except for the windscreen. That was smashed and Mom had dug a way out through it. The snow on the driver’s side was dark red. It took me a while to understand why, but when I did I remember realising my father was dead. I guess he died when the car hit the tree. It had crushed the driver’s side and trapped my legs beneath his seat.”

MacGyver watched Terry visibly fighting to remain detached and he began to wish he hadn’t pushed her into telling him. He moved closer to take her hand, but instead she rose from the bed and walked to the window.

For a long time, Terry stared at the moonlight reflecting off the ocean far below. But the distraction was insufficient. She couldn’t escape memories that were such an innate part of her existence.

MacGyver studied her silently, barely daring to breathe, and when she spoke again he had to strain to hear her.

“Mom wouldn’t leave me for long, so all she could do was climb back up to the road for help. Trouble was, it wasn’t exactly a well travelled route at that time of year. Even so, she left some signals to point towards the vehicle and then I guess she started praying.”

“She wasn’t gone more than a few minutes, but it was terrifying for a ten year old girl, trapped in the wreckage with her dead father. Unable to move and surrounded by snow, the only blessing was that the cold was numbing the pain in her legs.”

MacGyver couldn’t help notice the way Terry had begun referring to herself in the third person. Her voice becoming matter of fact and emotionless as though she had switched off the part of her that was effected by the event she described.

“Frances Wightman went back to the car, made sure her daughter was wrapped up tight in their only blanket and settled down in the front seat to wait for rescue. She told stories of warm exotic places, helping her daughter imagine herself there, basking in the hot sun. But I guess it didn’t convince Frances.”

Terry leaned her free hand against the windowsill, her head bowed, almost touching the glass, her voice a dead tone that reverberated off the window pane to reach MacGyver where he sat. “She made her daughter promise not to be afraid and told her that she was very brave. She promised that help would come in time to save the girl. Then the hand that her daughter was holding slowly froze and grew too heavy to hang on to.”

“Frances Wightman died and left her daughter alone, inside the snow covered wreckage with her dead parents. The girl was terrified, drifting in and out, with no way to judge the passage of time. The only thing that kept her alive was her belief in her mother’s promise of rescue.”

When Terry faltered, Mac got off the bed to move behind her, tentatively placing his hands on her shoulders and feeling her jump to his touch.

“She didn’t lie,” MacGyver said quietly, “Frances kept her promise.”

Terry nodded slightly and leaned her head on the glass for a long moment, her eyes closed against raw grief, wishing she could blank out the images. Mac felt her shiver from a freezing cold feeling he could not share. Instead he slipped his arms around her, mindful of her sling, pulling her close until she sank against his chest, her strength of detachment diminishing as the memories flowed freely.

Finally, she spoke again in a voice soft and heart rending, “The last thing I remember was waking up from a nightmare screaming for my Mom. When I realised it was real I just kept screaming until the cold took me.”

Mac felt her whole body shudder. “I thought I’d never escape, never see daylight or feel the sun’s heat again. Never see David…….,” Terry bit her lip as she thought of her brother again. She swallowed audibly, “I was still screaming when I woke up in hospital six weeks later.”

“The first thing I saw was David,” she smiled slightly, remembering her relief. “He looked terrible, big black shadows under his eyes, gaunt and pale. He looked like he hadn’t eaten or slept properly in weeks and I found out from one of the nurses later that he’d refused to leave my bedside the whole time since he’d gotten there. Except for the funeral.”

“I swear, in that moment he was the most wondrous sight I ever saw in my life. He held me until I stopped screaming. Then he explained everything that had happened in the most soothing voice I had ever heard since my mother’s. He told me about my injuries, how my legs were a bit broken, but that I’d be up and about in no time.”

Terry smiled weakly, “I think I was almost eighteen years old before David admitted that the doctors had wanted to amputate my legs because they were so badly frostbitten. And that he’d spent all the insurance money to get in a specialist to treat me.”

“My brother went from being a high school senior to my guardian angel in one twist of fate. He became responsible for my welfare and by the time I left the hospital he was my legal guardian. He took me home and put me through physical therapy until I could walk again, all the time finishing his studies from home so he could graduate on time.”

Terry’s voice was full of pride as she spoke about her brother. “David worked so hard, he got a scholarship to the local college and a part-time job to support us. He even tutored me so I could catch up on school and not be put back a year.”

“Sometimes I wonder when he found time to sleep,” Terry said softly. “For the first few months there wasn’t a single night when I didn’t wake up screaming, but David would always be there to soothe away the nightmare. And every time he asked if I wanted to talk about it and every time I refused. I had no idea how much I was hurting him because of that,” she trailed off into guilty silence.

Her words drew Mac’s thoughts towards painful memories of his own, his eyes distant, focused inward as he spoke. “After my Dad and Grandma died, Mom kept trying to talk to me about the accident, and about them. I ran away every time.”

He shrugged helplessly. “I was just a kid, I had no idea how much she needed to talk about it to let out her own grief. My Grandpa Harry took off after the funeral, I think it hurt him too much to be around us. He got a job and sent money, but Mom had no one to talk to, no one to turn to for comfort, except me. And I was too busy hiding from my own feelings to see that.”

He squeezed Terry’s shoulder. “I was just a kid. You were just a kid. We had no way of knowing.”

Terry chewed her lip, silently considering his words until eventually she continued in a quiet voice, “One night I found David sitting in the living room, hugging Mom’s picture. He was crying. I’d never seen my brother cry before. I thought it was because I hadn’t been able to save Mom and I tried to tell him I was sorry.” Terry exhaled frustratedly, “I was eleven years old. How was I supposed to know it was me he was worried about? I didn’t know what claustrophobia or psychological trauma was, let alone that I was suffering from them!”

“I had started to think it was perfectly normal to spend my time alone. But apparently I’d stopped functioning. I would attend school and get my grades, but I didn’t talk unless spoken to and most of the time I just wandered around in whatever open space I could find. The park, the lake, wherever. The more withdrawn I got the more worried David was, but he was only eighteen years old, he didn’t know what to do any more than I did!”

“My physical wounds were healed, bones mesh fast at that age, but psychologically…….” MacGyver felt Terry shrug against his chest. “God I was such a burden to my brother!” she exclaimed disgustedly.

“You were only eleven years old, Terry,” Mac said gently. “Eleven year olds are supposed to be a burden!”

Terry’s voice took on an odd, strained tone, “Not me! From the moment I saw David crying, I was determined to help. That night I answered every question he had about the accident and from that point on I forced myself to sleep with my head beneath the blankets so my screaming wouldn’t wake him up! It worked a charm. My brother finally started smiling again and I did everything I had to in order to convince him I was fine.”

“I was determined not to burden him anymore, even if that meant lying to him. As far as David was concerned everything was back to normal. I even invented non-existent friends to tell him about so he didn’t realise I spent all my time on my own.” Terry ground to a halt, the sudden silence surrounding them densely.

Left to absorb her last words, MacGyver slowly realised the probable consequences of an eleven year old’s deceptions. He shifted slightly, loosening his embrace around Terry’s shoulders and gently turning her towards him. He tilted her chin up to face him, her eyes avoiding his concerned gaze as his thumb tenderly stroked her cheek.

“Terry?” he spoke her name softly, his other hand sliding down her back to hold her gently. “Look at me,” he urged, his heart wrenching at the sight of her downturned eyes. “Terry?”

Finally she responded, staring at him with a lost look, her eyes filled with shame as Mac forced out the question, knowing he had pushed her this far through some selfish misguided attempt to help her. But he couldn’t leave her hanging on the edge, she had to fall before anyone could save her.

“Terry, what happened?” She squirmed uncomfortably, but Mac wouldn’t release his hold. “When did you break down?”

Terry stopped moving at those last words, standing perfectly motionless as she studied him closely and MacGyver could see she was trying to decide how he would judge her if she trusted him with the truth.

“Whatever it was, you can tell me, Terry. You weren’t to blame, you must know that.” Mac swallowed hard, his voice choked with the import of his own confession, “When my parents and grandparents died I couldn’t be there to comfort any of them, or save them, or even say goodbye to them. It tore me apart for years, and it took a long time before I realised they hadn’t needed me with them. They just needed to know I was going to be okay.”

“But as a kid I was so filled with guilt that I hadn’t been there at that car crash…….,” Mac’s voice faltered and he glanced away, back to the distant past, “If it wasn’t for Mom, I might’ve done something…….anything to free myself from that guilt.”

He blinked at Terry, his innermost thoughts open to view as he held her gaze. Then she slowly averted her eyes to some point past his shoulder and Mac found himself holding his breath.

“It was the first anniversary of the accident,” she said in a barely audible voice. “David picked me up after school and we went to church. We were going to light a candle. There was something about the quiet muffled sounds inside, it reminded me of being trapped inside that car, buried in snow. The walls started closing in and I started screaming. I scared hell out of the priest and David. Then I just ran and I couldn’t stop running. I ran to escape. I didn’t realise I was trying to escape from myself.”

“When I eventually got home, the house was empty, I guess David was still out looking for me. I went upstairs to the bathroom and took a bottle of painkillers from the cabinet. I think the doctor had given them to David in case I needed them when I first left the hospital. Anyway, I opened the lid and swallowed the lot, washed down with water from the tap. Then I sat down in a corner, shut my eyes as the walls closed in, and waited to see my parents again.”

“I woke up in intensive care and there was David. I screamed at him for not letting me die!” Terry’s voice quivered with the weight of that memory, “I actually screamed at him! I’ll never forget the look on his face, he was so hurt and shocked. Then he took my hand, looked me in the eye and said ‘I want to see them again too, but I would never leave you behind all alone’.” Terry fell silent, gulping hard to keep control of the raw emotions compounded by her fears for David’s safety.

Eventually MacGyver spoke, “What did you say to him?”

“I didn’t,” Terry shook her head, avoiding his gaze, but he could see the tears threatening to flow. “I just broke down and sobbed. It was the first time I’d cried since the accident. Everything I’d bottled up and buried until it suffocated me came welling up like a burst dam! But when I’d finished, I was finally on the road to recovery. I had to see a child psychologist for a couple of years before I could control the claustrophobia. But that day, David and I promised each other we would never leave the other one behind alone.”

Terry brushed her hand across her face as though embarrassed to find it damp. She looked at Mac selfconsciously, “I don’t know what I’d do without David. He saved me, MacGyver. Now it’s my turn to save him.”

MacGyver regarded her bruised face and heartbreakingly sad eyes wishing there was some magic way to restore their shining smile. “We’ll find him,” he said at last, his words apparently convincing.

Terry wrapped her arm around him and held him tight. “Thanks Mac,” she breathed, resting her head against his shoulder.

“For what?”

“For letting me burden you with my sordid past,” Terry sighed raggedly.

“There’s nothing to thank me for, I pushed you into it,” MacGvyer said awkwardly.

It may not have helped Terry one bit to rehash old memories to satisfy his selfish need to feel trusted and MacGyver berated himself for putting her through such trauma, as if she wasn’t going through enough already. But at the same time he couldn’t help pondering the similarities in their childhood. And he was grateful for the knowledge, as if knowing what had happened to her had somehow finally resolved one of the biggest regrets of his life – to have not been with his father in that car.

“Actually, I think I have to thank you,” he admitted guardedly.

“Why?” Terry was mystified.

Mac winced, struggling to put his thoughts into words that would convey his true feelings without sounding insensitive. “Because…….I’ve always wondered what if I had been in the car with my Dad and Grandma when it crashed. What if I could have saved them? But it had never occurred to me to wonder what if I couldn’t save them. What if I’d been the sole survivor.”

He met her gaze steadily. “You’re living testament of the answer to that question. Tonight, you’ve helped me finally understand something about myself, even if you didn’t know it.”

Terry looked at him with wide eyes, taken aback by the thought that she could have helped him for a change. “I helped you?” she murmured in disbelief. “Haven’t you got that the wrong way round?”

“You helped me, Terry.” Mac tightened his arms around her protectively. “Even so, I’m sorry I pushed you so hard into telling me what happened all those years ago,” he added sincerely.

“MacGyver, if I’d known it would mean that much to you, I’d’ve told you long before now,” she replied softly, hugging him warmly. “I’d do anything to help repay all you’ve done for me.”

Mac stroked her back soothingly, pressing kisses to the top of her silky hair as Terry yawned hugely. “You should be in bed,” he regarded her, careful to avoid the word ‘sleep’ with its suggestion of fresh nightmares.

Slowly Terry pulled away from his embrace and Mac caught the flash of fear crossing her face like a shadow. “Will you stay with me?” she asked hesitantly.

“Of course!” Mac nodded, taking her hand and leading her back to the bed. She slid between the covers and he moved to retake his place in the armchair, but she tugged on his hand, sliding across and pulling him down to join her. As he sat on the edge of the mattress Terry leaned over to raise his sweatshirt up, pulling it over his head awkwardly with her one good hand and running her fingers through his hair to flatten the unruly tufts. Then she took his hand again and pulled him down to lay beside her.

Mac nestled beneath the blankets and enfolded Terry in his arms gently, his shoulder and chest providing her pillow. Gradually she settled down, appreciating the comfort of his body and lulled by his steady breathing until her eyes closed exhaustedly.

For a long time MacGyver lay awake, listening for Terry’s breathing to slow and deepen into a dreamless sleep. She didn’t seem to blame him for what he’d done, pushing her until she’d revealed all the secrets of her past. But Mac still felt bad about it. Terry had helped him tonight, but he had yet to really help her, and they were no closer to finding out where David was.

Knowing now what Terry had been through at such a young age, it was easy to understand how close she and David were. But what if they didn’t find her brother? What if everything didn’t turn out all right?

Mac wasn’t used to sitting around, waiting helplessly, but since he was supposed to be protecting Terry there was little else he could do at that moment. There was one thing though, something MacGyver hadn’t done in years, and he finally drifted off to sleep with a prayer in his thoughts.