This part is short, as was this story, but I thought it was a nice ending. I have another story I will post later today. For now, enjoy the end to this one!
Unseen Part Six
Rated: PG (Conclusion)
The woman appeared before MacGyver again, bathed in a soft, pleasant, glowing light.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice echoing around him.
Before he could respond, she evaporated into a fine mist… He was drowning. Something was covering his nose and mouth, and in his dazed state he knew it had to be the source of his discomfort. In a panicked reaction he tried to remove the obstruction, but his movements were too feeble and someone stopped him, pushing his hand out of the way.
“It’s pure oxygen, MacGyver,” someone said to him gently in a soothing tone. “It will help you. Just relax and breathe. That’s it. Allow it to enter your system…”
As he breathed in the restorative, beneficial mixture, the burning in his lungs decreased and he revived slowly, staring up at the blurred faces of Pete and a nurse.
“You’re suffering from smoke inhalation, Mac,” Pete said, squeezing his hand. “It’s pretty serious. You almost died.”
“I’ll leave you alone with him for awhile,” the nurse said. “It looks like he’s stable and his condition is improving. Should anything change do not hesitate to alert me or any of the hospital staff.”
“I will, thank you,” Pete said, watching her as she left the room. When she was gone, he turned back to MacGyver, feeling immense sympathy for him, lying in the hospital bed, looking so weak and fragile, the oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth. “Thank God you’re all right,” he said, his bloodshot eyes filling with tears. He brushed back a matted, messy lock of his hair. The hospital staff had done their best to clean him up, but his skin was still smudged with soot in places and he smelled harsh and sour, leftover from the fire. “I didn’t think you were going to make it. You were…dead when the firefighters found you. They had to resuscitate you. It could have been a lot worse, I know. You could have been severely burned. I’m glad you weren’t. There was some damage to your lungs, though, and they said you could be in here for awhile receiving oxygen therapy and monitoring before they can discharge you.”
MacGyver closed his eyes, his drawn, pale face creased in pain. He nodded and squeezed Pete’s hand, showing he understood, unable to speak, the oxygen mask and smoke-clogged lungs preventing him.
Pete sobbed harder, cradling MacGyver’s hand in his, bringing it closer to him. “Why does this always have to happen to you?” He asked. “You don’t deserve to be in here again. You were just here.” He looked down at the casts, which had to be re-plastered and the bones re-set.
Opening his glazed eyes again, MacGyver stared up at him. Embarrassed, feeling uncomfortable about MacGyver seeing him cry, knowing it would only worry him, Pete quickly wiped away the tears.
“Anyway, you’re all right now. You’re safe. It’s over,” he said, clearing his throat. “Carl, or The Unseen…he’s dead. He won’t be able to inflict harm on anyone again.”
MacGyver frowned slightly, confused, wondering what had happened. The last thing he remembered was hiding behind a table, close to the floor to avoid the flames and smoke, waiting for the crude, homemade bomb he had made to explode near the doors and possibly liberate him from the inferno that threatened to kill him at any moment. After that, he had blacked out, uncertain whether his plan had worked or if he would ever escape alive.
“I knew you could get out of there,” Pete said as if sensing the questions MacGyver had, reading the puzzled expression on his tired, wan face. He smiled. “While conducting their investigation into the fire, they found small fragments of what they called an improvised explosive device. They said it was what caused the doors to be blown open. You did it. I knew you could. Carl had an impressive knowledge of chemistry, but so did you, and you used it against him.”
MacGyver nodded slightly, and Pete thought he saw a faint trace of a smile beneath the transparent material of the oxygen mask.
“Anyway, one of the doors fell on Carl and crushed him. That’s how he died. The police are relieved to finally have this case solved and closed. They’re conducting a thorough investigation into his background. It turns out this ‘Carl’ worked for another company before being accused of tampering with and poisoning lab samples. They had no definitive proof that he had anything to do with it, but they suspected it and forced him to resign. Apparently ashamed and angered by his disgrace and ignominy, he decided to try a new strategy and pose as someone other than a scientist but in a job that would allow him access to chemistry labs. He was able to successfully construct a new identity, and he was hired by The Phoenix Foundation. He deceived us all, Mac. It’s disgraceful, not to mention embarrassing. We’re just going to have to further tighten our screening process and be more scrutinizing and careful about who we hire so this never happens again, that’s all there is to it.”
MacGyver nodded, but Pete could tell he was starting to lose his ability to concentrate and remain awake, his head lolling back, his eyes closing. Smiling, he patted him on his healthy arm.
“Get some sleep,” he said. “Breathe in that oxygen, as much of it as you can. You’re going to be fine. Everything’s going to be fine now.”
***
Several weeks later…
Making excellent progress on his recovery, his lungs fully healed, the congestion gone, MacGyver was released once again from the hospital, still in his casts, but making progress in that area as well, his fractures clean and healing nicely. Soon, the doctor told him the casts would be removed and he would start more physical therapy sessions and exercises designed to strengthen the muscles that had atrophied, helping him learn how to walk again unassisted by a crutch or a cane. Draped across his sofa, Pete made sure he was comfortable, placing a blanket over him.
“Are you glad to be home?” He asked.
MacGyver smiled at him. “Yeah, it feels great,” he said.
“Do you need anything?”
“No, not right now, thanks.”
Pete stood near the French doors facing the back patio of MacGyver’s houseboat, looking out over the marina, the sun streaming in through the slats of the vertical blinds.
“What are you thinking about?” MacGyver asked, watching him.
“Oh, nothing really, I guess,” Pete said, sighing. “Just how surreal the past few weeks have been, really.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“I mean, we may never know why that woman chose to come to you, or how she knew you would be able to find her murderer.”
“I don’t know, Pete,” MacGyver said, picking up one of his sofa pillows and absently playing with it with his good hand, lost in contemplative thought of his own. “Maybe there is some information you learn after you die, and you have to try to relay that information to the living somehow to receive justice if your death was untimely. She succeeded in doing just that by communicating with me.”
“Don’t tell me you actually believe in all this stuff now,” Pete said, looking at him.
MacGyver shrugged, still looking down at the pillow. “Why not?” He asked. “You have to wonder. This entire experience has led me to reevaluate my beliefs about the supernatural. She was real, Pete. We found her killer. That had to more than mere coincidence or happenstance.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Pete said, returning to gazing out the windows. “Have you seen her anymore?”
“Just once, when I woke in the hospital after the fire,” MacGyver said. “She was thanking me.”
“It’s still so odd,” Pete said. “I don’t know if we’re ever going to be able to explain it.”
“I don’t think we can. Some mysteries are meant to remain unsolved, I guess.”
While watching the activity on the marina, Pete thought he briefly saw a woman that matched MacGyver’s description and the photo from the newspaper, walking among the other people, seemingly unnoticed by them. She wore white and seemed almost transparent, the sunlight filtering through her, creating a soft, otherworldly glow, her long golden hair glistening and flowing in the breeze. She stopped and turned, smiling cryptically before vanishing, blending into the scenery. The shock of seeing her caused Pete to release an involuntary, startled gasp.
“What is it, Pete?” MacGyver asked, hearing his reaction and looking up at him.
“Oh, nothing I guess,” Pete said. “I thought I saw…”
“Saw what?”
“I don’t know. It was nothing. Never mind.”
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
Nice story, MacsChick. See, Beach? Our dear MacsChick will play all she wants with MacGyver, but she always bring him back. If she doesn't how is she gonna be able to write another story? 
