All right guys, we survived the hacking!
It's time for me to post the final installment of this story. I hope you have enjoyed it! I have another story in my mind that will be coming soon. I just have to juggle my time writing it with work and my move to my new apartment coming in October, but I'm sure I'll have it ready for your reading eyes soon! In the meantime, enjoy the end of this story!
Shadows and Light Part Eight
Rated: PG (conclusion)
For a moment, MacGyver remembered everything—his fall, leaving his body to request Pete’s help, reciprocating that help when Pete was kidnapped, and his otherworldly encounter with his deceased grandfather. He desperately wanted to tell Pete everything when he regained consciousness, but he found himself locked inside an unresponsive and uncooperative body, its limitations too great to allow him to communicate effectively. He tried to leave it again, but his connection to it was now too strong and fully established, his decision made and irreversible. Before, he had been denied access to it, and now he was shut off from the spiritual realm. In some ways, his time separate from his body as a spirit had given him freedom he could never otherwise experience—the ability to transport himself anywhere with only a thought, the opportunity to operate unseen while helping to rescue Pete, and the unusual sensation of being able to walk through solid matter. Still, it had its limitations as well. Not always being able to manipulate solid objects and not always able to be seen or heard were among the many frustrations as a spirit that he also experienced. As he lay in his hospital bed, he realized that neither life nor death were perfect states of being—they just were a natural, mysterious part of the human experience that was beyond reason, beyond understanding. Harry had been right. MacGyver wished he could keep the memory of his strange metaphysical journey, knowing it would help him better understand and appreciate the unknown and the supernatural, but as he slipped back into the unconsciousness of sleep, all those memories erased.
***
Two weeks later…
Still convalescing, dressed in a white robe that almost made him look angelic in appearance, MacGyver sat propped up on his hospital bed, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his feet bare. He had been dozing on and off all day, still regaining his strength, his mind hazy from the pain and the medications designed to alleviate that pain. Overall, he was recovering at an astonishing rate, much faster than any of the hospital staff could have anticipated, all of those involved in his care expecting the worst because of the unusual, almost miraculous circumstances surrounding his return to consciousness, having been clinically dead for almost an hour before reviving. Scans of his brain and tests of his cognitive functioning did not reveal any permanent damage or impairment, something they believed was almost unheard of in a case such as his. Still, they were taking extra precautions, not releasing him until all his tests returned with consistent, positive results that indicated his condition would continue to improve favorably.
While MacGyver appreciated their concern and their desire to ensure that he was fully restored to health, it didn’t make enduring long, boring days in the hospital any better. The only thing that kept him entertained and intrigued were the wild, incredible stories Pete had been telling him about seeing him as a ghost while he was in a coma. It didn’t make any sense to him, unsure what to believe. Pete was a rational man—he certainly didn’t believe in ghosts. Yet when he recounted his story, he always did it with such conviction and certitude, his details vivid and believable, never changing from the first time he told him. At first, MacGyver thought Pete was teasing him, playing some practical joke on him, but as he listened, his doubts about the truth of the story began to waver. Why would Pete invent a story such as that? It was uncharacteristic of him. He was an honorable and truthful man. He must have seen something. Still, MacGyver wondered if he was telling him this unbelievable tale in order to make him feel better, perhaps reassuring him with the promise of some kind of afterlife so that he could assuage his own feelings of loss and grief. That was not Pete’s way, however. He would never joke cruelly about death, or speak falsely about it, creating some fantasy in order to reduce MacGyver’s fears of mortality as if he were a child. He had to have seen something, but what? What could explain it?
He studied his toes for awhile, smiling to himself as a memory from the past emerged. During his nomadic, vagabond days when he was unsure of what direction he would take in his life or what would become of him, he had a brief romantic relationship with a free-spirited woman named Teresa who told him she could read a person’s toes the way some read palms. Amused and interested, he asked her to demonstrate what she meant.
“Take off your shoes,” she told him.
“Why? I’m wearing sandals,” he said.
She grinned. “Silly, I need to see all your toes if I’m going to make an accurate reading. Your strap is hiding some of them,” she said, kissing him.
Blushing, still a little shy and awkward around women, he did as she asked, exposing his bare feet for her examination. He watched as she stared at them for a long time, a deep frown on her face as she focused.
“Well, what do you see in my feet?” He asked.
She looked up at him and gave him a sly, flirtatious smile. “Not your feet—your toes,” she said, winking.
“Okay, what do you see in my toes?” He asked, humoring her. He didn’t believe anything about anyone’s personality could be judged just by looking at their toes, but he was willing to have a little fun with the idea because at the time he thought he was passionately in love with her.
“All right, here’s my assessment,” she said, pointing at his toes for emphasis. “Your large toe is your spiritual toe, and the toe next to it is your intellectual toe. I see a huge rift between them. Not only that, your intellectual toe is longer than your spiritual toe, indicating that you’re a smart man, Mac, but you’re starved spiritually. You need to develop your spiritual side more.” She looked up at him as if she seemed a little disappointed by this.
“What do you mean? I need to go to church more?” MacGyver asked, teasing her.
Teresa shook her head. “Spiritualism involves more than going to church,” she said. “It’s a state of mind, a state of being; an exploration of ideas beyond this earth. You need to expand your mind to accept the possibilities of many things we can’t explain. Only then will you grow spiritually.” As he lay there, staring at his toes, MacGyver wondered if she had been right. He was often too firm in his beliefs, refusing to accept alternative explanations, relying instead purely on science. What Pete had been telling him the past few days challenged everything he thought he knew, and he didn’t know what to do or how to react to such stunning information. He had survived against some insurmountable odds, so he supposed anything could theoretically be possible. He just wasn’t sure how to process it, the events that supposedly occurred during his coma overwhelming and perplexing him.
Pete entered, smiling broadly, still relieved that his friend was doing so well despite the severe trauma he had suffered after his fall. His smile fell slightly when he saw MacGyver staring at his feet, looking as if he was lost in another world.
“MacGyver, are you all right?” He asked.
Snapping out of his preoccupation with his feet, MacGyver looked up at Pete and offered a small smile. “Yeah, sure,” he said. “I’m fine, Pete. I was just thinking.”
“Well, the doctors say that you are making tremendous progress and should be out of here soon.”
“Aw man, and I was just starting to like the place,” MacGyver said, grinning.
Pete laughed slightly. “It’s good to have you back,” he said, embracing him, his voice trembling as he fought to control new tears that threatened, patting his friend on the back.
They released each other and Pete sat down beside him. “There’s some interesting news on Nicholas Stanislav and his cohorts,” he said. “It could escalate into an international incident, with Russia demanding his release. At the moment, however, they’re disavowing any knowledge of his existence, as if they’re embarrassed by his failure and are punishing him for his misconduct. There are some dicey international laws and diplomacy in play here, and I’m right in the middle of trying to disentangle the whole mess.”
“Sounds like Nicholas picked the wrong man to kidnap on American soil,” MacGyver said. “He wasn’t counting on you busting out of there.”
“He wasn’t counting on
us, you mean,” Pete said.
MacGyver frowned and said nothing, looking briefly down at his bed linens, feeling uncomfortable.
“What? You still don’t believe me, do you? Everything I’ve told you?” Pete asked.
MacGyver shrugged, noncommittal. “I dunno,” he muttered. He picked absently at the sheets.
“You don’t remember, do you?”
MacGyver looked up at Pete again, his dark eyes almost ablaze with their intensity. “No Pete, I don’t,” he said. “But what you’ve told me sure sounds convincing. It’s just…do you have any evidence?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” Pete said, smiling. “Actually, I thought you’d never ask. When you get out of here, I have something I want to show you.”
***
Dr. Rhoades and Trish gawked for several minutes at MacGyver after he entered their lab, speechless.
“Why are you staring at me?” He asked.
“Uh…n-nothing…it’s just…” Trish said, stumbling over her words.
“It’s good to see you back in the flesh, MacGyver,” Dr. Rhoades said, taking his hand and shaking it as if to confirm he was solid.
“Pete said you have something to show me?”
“Yes we do, several things in fact,” Dr. Rhoades said. “Have a seat, MacGyver. This might take awhile.”
MacGyver glanced at Pete as if seeking reassurance. Pete smiled at him encouragingly, and MacGyver nodded, sitting beside Dr. Rhoades. He listened with amazement when he heard his voice on the tape informing them that Pete was in danger, and stared with equal amazement at the developed photo of his ghostly outline standing beside Pete.
“H-how…?” He asked, his eyes transfixed on the photo. “None of this has been doctored in any way, has it? I mean, come on, this is impossible…”
Dr. Rhoades looked up at Pete. “He doesn’t remember, does he?” She asked.
“No, I’m afraid not,” Pete said, sighing.
“Fascinating,” she said, taking some notes. “Usually, someone remembers at least something from their near-death experience, but MacGyver apparently does not.”
“It could be because of his skeptical nature,” Trish said. “Maybe he’s blocking it out of his mind, resisting it, refusing to believe it happened.”
“It didn’t,” MacGyver insisted. His eyes darted from one person in the lab to the next. “It couldn’t….could it? I…I mean…no…” he dropped the photo and held his face in his hands.
“Are you all right, Mac?” Pete asked.
“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Dr. Rhoades said. “After all, you’re suffering from a spiritual crisis, wondering what the nature of death is. It’s normal. Being presented with irrefutable evidence such as this has to be overwhelming. On one hand, it confirms the existence of life beyond death, but on the other hand, it’s difficult for someone who has had such a persistent doubt for so long to thoroughly digest and accept.”
MacGyver rubbed his face and looked back up at everyone in the lab. “I don’t…understand how…” he looked directly at Pete. “So, I was actually there, somehow. I helped you…”
“Eyewitness testimony confirms it,” Pete said. “Nicholas and his men can’t stop talking about your haunting. You gave them quite a scare.”
“Nicholas is paranoid and believes in the occult,” MacGyver said. “Surely his belief fueled…I don’t know…something…”
“Yeah, but you know me, Mac. I don’t believe in those things. Yet, you were there, with me, defying all logic. How can you explain that? You can’t.”
“Meanwhile, you inadvertently helped advance my research into the paranormal far sooner than I ever thought possible,” Dr. Rhoades said, smiling.
“Yeah, the man who doesn’t believe in anything,” Trish said snidely.
“Now wait a minute, I believe in things,” MacGyver said.
Pete raised his eyebrows. “You do?” He asked.
“Sure I do,” MacGyver said. “Especially now, faced with this…” he gestured towards the photograph. “I have to admit that as a man of science that faced with evidence of any kind, even if it is of the supernatural, I have to take it into consideration as actually existing. I can’t ignore what you’re saying or what you’re showing me. This is too powerful, and it’s beyond me. There are things happening that we can’t fully understand, and now I have to acknowledge that. I just wish I could remember…”
“Maybe one day you will,” Pete said. “In the meantime, I’m just glad you have you back.”
The End
"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer."
--Henry David Thoreau
brains+brawn+beauty+personality=MacGyver
