Okay, here's part five! Again, I rated it R just in case (it's a little graphic). Enjoy!

Invincible Part Five
Rated: R

Minutes later, violent muscle spasms and convulsions crippled MacGyver, causing him to curl up on the floor, trembling in pain. He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut, tears falling down his cheeks. He could no longer control his body, and he could barely even scream as the convulsions increased in their intensity. Jack watched this reaction helplessly.

“Hey, what’s going on? What did you do to him?” He asked.

Murdoc merely smiled at him.

“Answer me!” Jack shouted, pounding his fist against the force field and instantly regretting it, the surge of power knocking him to the ground. He groaned and shook his hand, feeling the tingling burn left over from the blow.

Murdoc calmly approached the force field that held MacGyver and watched as he twitched, his face twisted in a tight grimace of pain.

“Poor MacGyver,” he said in mock sadness. “I would have thought with your background in chemistry, you would know that a toxic reaction to Strychnine doesn’t occur instantaneously. It takes ten, twenty minutes tops at the least.”

“Strychnine?” Jack asked, looking at MacGyver with sympathy and feeling nothing but anger and frustration over being trapped, unable to help him. He glared at Murdoc, wishing he could wring his neck with his bare hands. “Isn’t that a little primitive for a Goa’uld?” He asked, taunting Murdoc.

Murdoc leveled his cold eyes at Jack and clenched his jaw, something he did often when he was insulted. It was his way of protecting himself, because he was rather sensitive about his killing methods and didn’t like it when anyone criticized them, especially his victims.

“Yes, well it gets the job done,” he said, a small smile creeping across his lips. “You’re next. I can guarantee you that it isn’t going to be a pleasant experience. Just look at your cousin, MacGyver.”

Jack could barely watch MacGyver anymore as his body balled up in tension and convulsed. “Come on, Murdoc, why don’t you just shoot us like the coward you are and get it over with already! Do it!” Jack shouted, desperate to do anything to save MacGyver, even if it meant putting him out of his misery.

Murdoc laughed. “MacGyver should have kept you better informed, O’Neill,” he said. “I don’t operate that way. The end result is the same. You’ll still die. You just get to suffer first for my entertainment. As I understand, that’s how Ba’al operated.”

Jack clenched his fists when he heard that vile name, and he fought the impulse to crash against the force field again. Murdoc enjoyed watching him struggle, standing there, his body stiffening in rage he could barely contain.

“You can’t do anything to me, Jack,” he said. “You were a great warrior, albeit a bit foolish, stupid, and stubborn at times. But that’s all over now.”

Jack began to feel his neck spasm, and soon it spread to the rest of his body. He slumped to the ground and began convulsing, just like MacGyver, his body a twisted knot of pain. He tried to force out a cry, but his jaws clamped shut. The unbearable pain and the uncontrollable convulsions overwhelmed him, consuming all his energy.

“Aaaaagh,” he managed to cry through his tightening jaws. He clawed at the ground, his hands freezing into their curved positions.

“Don’t fight it, gentlemen, there’s nothing you can do,” Murdoc said. “And anyway, it’s time for your transport.” He revealed two sarcophagi, their lids open, the insides dark. “Just so you don’t get your hopes up and think the sarcophagus will heal you, I just want to mention that these are malfunctioned, useless. They’re merely containers to keep you in until you’re on board the Goa’uld mother ship. What the System Lords decide to do with your bodies after that is their business, and I’ll get my reward.” He grinned as he watched MacGyver and Jack O’Neill flopping around, the stages of the poison progressing to where they were arching their backs in pain and the convulsions grew worse. “Think of it as being a very important part of Goa’uld history. Either way, sooner or later those convulsions will exhaust you. You’ll either suffocate or your bodies will give in to the poison fully and kill you. You each have, at the most, three hours left. Have fun.”

Murdoc released the force fields. Both MacGyver and Jack were so weakened and incapable of moving beyond the convulsions that stiffened them that Murdoc knew they were no longer a threat. Carefully, he lifted MacGyver’s body, the pain from the gunshot wound hindering him slightly and he winced. Taking a deep breath, he worked slowly, pushing MacGyver’s body into the broken sarcophagus. Once he closed the lid on him, he moved over to Jack, catching his breath. The added tension from the cramped muscles of both men made them heavier to lift, and it was not an easy task to position them inside the sarcophagi, but he finally finished, closing the lid on Jack. Before he completely closed the lid on both of them, he watched as they continued to shake and their bodies coiled in pain. A delighted smile crossed his lips over his handiwork.

“Sweet dreams, gentlemen,” he said.

Inside the sarcophagi, all MacGyver and Jack O’Neill could do was writhe in constant, unrelenting pain and watch helplessly as the lids slowly slid shut, locking them inside a world of darkness, sealing them into their own private hells.

***

As members of the Ancients, both MacGyver and Jack O’Neill had the ability to communicate with each other telepathically. Neither of them preferred using it. They were practical men still struggling to comprehend all the strange things they’d encountered. They liked to distance themselves from what they considered bizarre and silly, and to them telepathy certainly qualified. However, in their current states, in deep pain, buried alive in separate, dark, sarcophagi, and unable to speak to each other any other way, they decided it was the only way they might be able to escape.

‘Well, that’s it, Mac. There’s no way out of this. We’re definitely screwed this time,’ Jack said with his mind.

‘No, there’s gotta be a way,’ MacGyver said with his mind. ‘There always is.’

‘Not this time. We’re dying, Mac. I can feel it.’

Both of them felt something from the outside push against them.

‘What the hell was that?’ Jack asked.

‘My guess is Murdoc is finally moving us.’

‘Goody. I can’t wait. After all this, we’re about to be handed over to the Goa’uld as frozen food. I can’t do anything but shake and cramp up, Mac. I can’t stop. God, it hurts!’

‘I know, Jack. Just try to stay with me, okay?’

‘What are you planning on doing?’

‘I don’t know, but I’ve got to think of something.’

‘Ha! Good luck! You heard what Murdoc said. In three hours, we’re toast.’

‘Look, I know the odds aren’t good, but you’ve gotta have faith. I’ll figure out something.’

‘Well, I hope you think of something soon…aaaaagh!’ Jack screamed in his mind, and it sounded worse than it would had it been audible.

‘Jack! What is it, Jack?’

‘Mac, you’d better do something soon…I…I’m getting stiffer…I don’t know how much longer my body can keep shaking like this.’

‘Hang in there, I know.’

Disoriented by the dark, claustrophobic surroundings of the sarcophagi and the persistent, painful convulsions that assaulted his body, MacGyver struggled to think of a solution. With his cramped, clawed hands that kept twitching, he groped blindly for something that would produce a source of light so he could work. He then realized that Murdoc probably took his matches and the small pen light he always carried. He didn’t even have his knife. He released a low groan, reflecting both his pain and his frustration. The convulsions prevented him from making many voluntary movements, and he had to struggle just to move his hands. He began gasping, knowing that the neural connections responsible for breathing were beginning to shut down from the effects of the poison and the small, confined space of the sarcophagus didn’t help with producing any fresh oxygen.

‘Come on, Mac, keep it together,’ he thought.

Jack heard him, and MacGyver could hear his own wheezing breaths. ‘MacGyver, I can’t breathe…I’m having trouble breathing…’

‘It’s the poison. Just relax, Jack. Try to stay with me. We’ll get out of this, I promise.’

Using what little effort he had available, the convulsions exhausting his body, MacGyver forced his hands to cooperate, searching the sides of the sarcophagus for any controls. Disappointed, his rigid fingers kept brushing against smooth surfaces. Finally, he felt something raised on the left side. Hoping the poison wasn’t also causing hallucinations, he felt the area for a long time, assuring himself that it was actually there. With great effort and a painful movement that caused him to whimper, he carefully moved his eyes to the direction where his trembling fingers rested. Through blurred vision, he saw a small light glowing faintly.

‘This sarcophagus isn’t completely non-functional,’ he thought. ‘There’s still a light.’

‘What?’ Jack asked with his mind, hearing MacGyver’s thoughts again.

‘Jack, I think I can try to get this sarcophagus to work and reduce the effects of the poison.’

‘How are you gonna do that, Mac? Use your belt buckle?’

MacGyver’s fingers probed the area where the light glowed. He felt a small round opening. ‘You know Jack, that’s not a bad idea,’ he said.

‘Huh? You’re serious?’

‘Yeah. There’s a…hole…about the size of my belt buckle…if I can just…’

Jack listened with sympathy, hearing his cousin struggle to breathe. ‘Mac? Are you okay?’ He asked.

‘Oh yeah…just peachy…’

If Jack’s face hadn’t been contorted in a painful grimace from the continuous convulsions, he would have smiled hearing his cousin use another one of his favorite phrases.

‘What are you gonna do? Jam your belt buckle in there?’ He asked, trying to keep MacGyver focused.

‘Well…yeah.’

‘That won’t work. This is sophisticated Goa’uld technology, not an old truck.’

‘I have to…give it a try…for both of us.’

Jack knew he was right. His body was slowly deteriorating, unable to sustain itself after enduring the constant convulsions and his lungs were beginning to cease their functioning. ‘Good luck, Mac,’ he said.

‘Don’t say that. You’ll make me nervous,’ MacGyver said, smiling in his mind even though the pain prevented him from actually smiling, his face a frozen mask of suffering, tears weeping from his eyes.

His convulsions were making it increasingly difficult to move freely, and his breaths grew more rapid, but he forced himself again, fumbling to loosen his belt. Once he had it, he pulled it towards him, the metal jingling in his spastic hands. He felt around again for the hole and found it. He opened the belt buckle so that the pointed part stuck out, and he felt around, making sure to fit it inside the hole.

‘Okay, here it goes,’ he thought.

With whatever minute amount of strength and control he had left over his body, he pushed the pointed end of the buckle into the hole. At first, nothing happened, but then suddenly the faint light grew brighter, and soon the entire sarcophagus lit up inside, producing the beneficial healing effects that his poisoned body desperately needed. The light didn’t remain on constantly, fading in and out, so MacGyver knew he wouldn’t be completely cured of the poison, but at least it would stall his death. As he lay there, he could feel the tight arch in his back soften, and his muscles loosened. The heavy convulsions lessened, and he was able to breathe more easily.

‘It’s working, Jack!’ He said in his mind. He didn’t hear a response. ‘Jack?’ Still, he heard nothing. ‘Please Jack, don’t do this to me now!’

He was afraid it was already too late.

***

Somehow, MacGyver had to get Jack inside his sarcophagus or try to fix his. He didn’t know where they were, and he was worried about being discovered alive, but he decided to risk it. He couldn’t allow his cousin to die, not after he was almost fully healed himself. The only problem was, he wasn’t sure how to open the sarcophagus from the inside. All the Goa’uld sarcophagi he had ever seen seemed to only be able to open from the outside. He shuddered when he remembered how that was the case with his when he was in the hands of Ba’al and being tortured and brought back to life repeatedly. After dealing with Strychnine poisoning, he wasn’t sure which was worse. His muscles were still sore from the constant contractions the poison had produced, and he felt extremely tired. Still, at least he could now move, and he used his waning energy to find a way to open the sarcophagus from the inside.

Logically, it would make sense that the Goa’ulds would create some kind of override switch inside the sarcophagus in case they didn’t have dutiful Jaffa or other slaves around to release them from their healing chambers. In the now glowing interior, MacGyver searched for one. The hole where he had crammed the pointed part of his belt buckle was surrounded by exposed wiring and other buttons. He could clearly see them now. Even though the sarcophagus was damaged, they still worked, although not perfectly. Occasionally, the lights would dim, sending MacGyver back into darkness. Somehow, however, his belt buckle seemed to be helping to keep whatever reserves of power there were in the sarcophagus active. Examining the buttons, he tried pressing several of them to see what happened. Most of them were non-responsive, but when he pressed a green button, he heard the lid slide open, a blast of air reaching his sweaty face.

Carefully, MacGyver sat up, looking around. They were inside a Goa’uld ship. He could tell by the dark, imposing interior. Fortunately, nobody was there to greet him with an unpleasant surprise. He supposed they didn’t bother with too many guards, thinking they were already dead. His thoughts shifting to Jack, worried that he might be dead, he stepped out of the sarcophagus and approached Jack’s, nearly falling, his legs wobbly and his motor skills not fully recovered from the poison. He opened the lid manually, and it required a lot of strength that he didn’t yet have, but he was determined and pressed ahead, sliding the split lid open. Jack was still alive, but barely. His dark eyes were glassy, and his body was cramped, his back arched, his fingers curled in on themselves. His breaths came in short, hiccupping gasps.

“Don’t worry, Jack, I’ll get you out of here,” MacGyver said aloud.

‘Hurry,’ Jack’s mind said faintly.

Bracing himself, his weakened and sore muscles twitching with his effort, MacGyver lifted Jack’s stiff body from the sarcophagus and placed it inside the one he had managed to salvage and get working again—all with a simple belt buckle. He closed the lid and waited, hoping whatever reserves of power he had managed to bring back would remain on, at least long enough to rid Jack of some of the poison. Breathless from lifting Jack, he leaned against the sarcophagus to rest, his breaths feeling sharp and painful in his strained lungs. He heard some Jaffa stomp down a nearby corridor in the ship, and he crouched down, hiding until they passed. Once he was sure they were gone, he slowly opened the lid to the sarcophagus to check on Jack.

Relieved, MacGyver found that the light was still on, and he knew that Jack had received some of the healing benefits. He lay still, his body no longer cramped and stiff, his eyes closed. He looked pale, and MacGyver couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not. He bent over the sarcophagus, getting as close as he could to Jack to listen for breathing. He heard it. It was faint and shallow, but at least it was steady.

“Jack,” he whispered, touching the side of his face. “Jack, can you hear me? It’s Mac. You’re going to be okay.”

“Mmmmm….” Jack mumbled, slowly opening his eyes.

MacGyver smiled down at him. “Jack,” he said.

“Wha…what happened?” Jack asked, looking around with his eyes half-open.

“I fixed the sarcophagus. I got it to reduce the effects of the poison.”

“How? The belt buckle?”

MacGyver pointed at the belt, still sticking out of the partly exposed side panel on the inside of the sarcophagus. Jack looked at it and grinned tiredly.

“Damn,” he said. “What do you know about that? It actually worked.”

MacGyver offered his hand and helped Jack sit up. “Easy now,” he said.

Jack looked around, still finding it hard to completely move his neck. Every muscle in his body ached and was probably pulled from over-exertion during the convulsions. MacGyver watched him.

“We’re gonna have to work together to get out of here,” he said. “We’re inside a Goa’uld ship.”

Jack looked at his cousin, grinned, and winked. “Ya think?” He asked.

To be continued…

Oh no now I'm afraid.

Please keep it comming

Even Goa'uld technology is no match for Mac

Wow this is amazing stuff! I couldn't stop reading!!!

Thank you. And welcome to the forum!