I did something...different with this final chapter. Maybe I was influenced by Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, I don't know (if you haven't seen it, it's about memories and forgetting, also somewhat sci-fi in its premise, at least for now). Anyway, I won't give too much else away other than to say that I have somewhat of a "cliffhanger" ending--after reading it, what do you think Mac's decision would be?
I hope you enjoyed this story! I have another one coming soon!
Secrets and Consequences Part Eight
Rated: R (Conclusion)
One year later…
MacGyver arrived at the cemetery with another fresh long-stemmed red rose, its plush petals velvety, fragrant, and moistened with dew. The day was warm and pleasant as he placed the luxuriant flower over the gravestone. He studied the name engraved on it for a long time, tracing his fingers over the lettering as if somehow he could derive some meaning or significance from it by merely touching it, feeling the rough, indented texture that interrupted the smooth, polished granite.
ASHLEY SCOTT
The name no longer held any resonance with him, their passion, most intimate moments, her tragic death, his guilt, her brother’s anger and thirst for vengeance—all of it was gone, the memories permanently erased once the chip had been removed from his brain. He could only understand what he had been through as it was related to him by Pete, and even then it only confused him, seeming so unreal and distant, as if it had happened to someone else instead. It was like grieving over a complete stranger. He didn’t know what he was supposed to feel.
“This is it,” Pete said, standing beside him. “This is her grave. Every year you told me you visited it, around this time, and placed a single red rose on her gravestone to honor her memory.”
“Except now I can’t remember her at all,” MacGyver said, still staring at the gravestone. “I want to. God, do I want to…” he choked back a sob and wiped his eyes.
“I know you do,” Pete said in sympathy, placing his hand on his shoulder and squeezing it firmly in support. “That’s why I’m here, to help you remember her. I may only be a secondhand source of information about her and about all that’s happened, but at least you have that. It’s better than nothing. It’s better than forgetting her completely.”
“To think of…all the misery her death caused, not only to her or myself but to her brother…”
“Some memories are corrosive,” Pete said, “eating away at a person’s soul, corrupting it as it did with Evan. If anything, I’m glad you can’t remember what he did to you. At least you’ve been spared the memories of torture and pain.”
“Do you…think I’ll ever remember her?”
Pete sighed, looking into the moist, sorrowful dark eyes of his friend. “I don’t know, Mac,” he said. “The doctors who worked with you during your recovery seemed to believe that part of your brain has been permanently impaired, as a result of the surgery to remove the chip. But maybe you will, with time. Maybe you can start to forgive yourself for what happened. You’ve been punished enough.”
“You’re probably right,” MacGyver said, smiling ruefully. “It’s interesting though, you know.”
“What is?”
MacGyver looked at Pete. “All this time, all these years…I felt guilt for what happened to her. Then, someone else decided I should feel even more pain than I already did as a result of her death. Now, I can’t remember any of it except from what you tell me. It’s almost as if my brain exonerated me somehow by allowing me to forget.”
“Maybe,” Pete said. In the back of his mind, however, he was beginning to form another theory, one he was surprised he didn’t consider before.
***
After leaving the cemetery and making sure MacGyver would be all right, Pete visited Dr. Warren’s private, secluded residence, provided to him by The Phoenix Foundation in exchange for his cooperation in bringing down the organization he used to belong to. The venerable and formidable man was sitting on the front porch, a pitcher of iced tea on the table next to him. He grinned mysteriously when he saw Pete approach, peering at him with his beady, sparkling eyes over the rims of his glasses.
“It has been awhile, Mr. Thornton,” he said. “Come, have a seat.”
“I just realized what you’ve done,” Pete said, ignoring his greeting and his pleasantries. “I can’t believe it took me this long to figure out, but I finally did. You intentionally erased MacGyver’s memories of Ashley and his torture. I mean, I see it all clearly now. It wasn’t a mere coincidence that he can only forget those memories and nothing else. You manipulated it somehow during his surgery so that would be the outcome. How else would it happen? You have the knowledge and the ability to do so. After all, you created a chip that can control complex functions of the brain.”
Dr. Warren raised his bushy grey eyebrows. “That is quite an accusation to level at me without even making a proper greeting first,” he said. “Come, have a seat. Would you like some iced tea? I brewed it fresh myself this morning.”
“I’m not interested in tea,” Pete said tersely. “I’m interested in answers. Now, are you going to tell me what you did to him or not?”
Dr. Warren’s amused smile faded. He stared at Pete for a long time. “What will you do to me if I tell you the truth?” He asked.
“Well, that all depends,” Pete said. “If you don’t tell me, I can retract all agreements we’ve made to protect you.”
Dr. Warren poured more tea from the pitcher into his glass. “I see,” he said, clearing his throat.
“Does that mean you’re willing to cooperate?”
“Perhaps.”
“I need a yes or no answer from you.”
Dr. Warren released a heavy sigh, settling back in his chair, folding his large hands across his massive chest. “All right, I will tell you,” he said. “I did manipulate his brain so that he would forget those traumatizing events in his life.”
“Why?”
Dr. Warren looked insulted. “Why wouldn’t I? Look at the suffering they caused. You cannot honestly tell me that he would be better off living with all that tremendous pain and guilt, now can you?”
“So you’re saying that you did it out of purely altruistic reasons.”
“Yes. I did it to help him, for his benefit.”
“Look Doctor,” Pete said angrily, “maybe from where you come from you’re used to doing whatever you damn well please to get the desired results, but where I come from there are rules and ethical standards to follow, especially in the field of medicine.”
“Are you suggesting I should not have tried to help him, tried not to improve his life?”
“It’s his brain!” Pete shouted. “Those are his memories! Bad or not, they belong to him, and you have no right to destroy them without his express permission. Even then, I wouldn’t consider it a good idea, given the risks. What you did was almost as bad as what Evan did to him, just a different version. It’s still using his brain for your own purposes and against his will, as if he were some experiment.”
“Do you believe he would have been better off with them, Mr. Thornton? Do you believe he should have continued to feel guilt over that poor young woman’s death? Do you think he should have felt the aftereffects, flashbacks, and nightmares from his torture?” Dr. Warren smiled again and shook his head. “No. What I have done is given him a chance at a new life, free from those things.”
“What you have done is tamper with his brain!”
Dr. Warren shrugged. “So, tell me then…what is it you want me to do?” He asked.
“I want you to restore his memories.”
“It will not be so easy.”
“Why not? After all, you removed them.”
“Ah, and what about MacGyver? What does he have to say about all of this?”
“He wants his memories back,” Pete said.
Dr. Warren arched his eyebrows. “Really? How do you know of this? Have you asked him?”
“Not in so many words, no,” Pete said, “but I took him to the cemetery where Ashley is buried today to help him remember her. He told me he wished he could.”
“Even knowing the pain and suffering those memories have caused for everyone involved?”
“Yes.”
Dr. Warren shook his head and made a clucking sound in disappointment. “I really wish you had not taken him there,” he said. “The whole point it for him to have some closure, restore some sanity and peace in his life.”
“I think he would reach that closure much easier if he were allowed to deal with his memories, not have them shoved out of the way somewhere where he can’t access them.”
Dr. Warren raised his hands in a gesture of resignation and surrender. “All right, Mr. Thornton,” he said, sighing. “Here is what I propose. You talk to MacGyver. Ask him if this is really what he wants. Tell him there are no guarantees, that the surgeries both to insert the chip and to remove it were already big risks. To undergo another procedure could place him in danger. Then, if he still decides that is what he wants, I will perform the surgery.”
“You would do that?” Pete asked.
“Of course. I have told you before I am not a saint, Mr. Thornton, but I am willing to cooperate, especially since your foundation has been so kind and accommodating.” His sly grin returned.
Pete watched him for awhile, uncertain what to make of him. He had been willing to take chances and big risks in order to help them, yet there was still something sinister and shifty about him, something that could not be completely trusted. If he could design a chip that manipulated the brain and he could erase select memories, what else would he do if given another opportunity with the surgical knife?
“How do I know I can trust you?” He asked at last.
“You have only my word.”
“That’s what worries me.”
“Look Mr. Thornton,” Dr. Warren said, reaching for his sweaty glass of iced tea, sipping on it. “You say you want my help. If you truly do, then you must trust, yes?”
“I suppose so,” Pete said. Still, the idea made him very uncomfortable.
“Good. Then you talk to MacGyver. Inform me of his decision. I’d be very curious to see what he says. Perhaps you don’t know him as well as you think you do. I have a feeling he might want to keep those memories buried.”
“And I think you’re wrong. When he learns what you did to him, he’ll be just as upset if not even more so than I am.”
Dr. Warren shrugged and sipped on his tea again. “We shall see,” he said.
***
“It’s your decision, Mac,” Pete said.
MacGyver paced the living room of his houseboat uneasily, rubbing his face and then scrubbing his hands through his hair, his fingers brushing against the scars from his surgeries on his scalp. He then stopped, staring out the glass doors facing his back porch. He didn’t know what to think or what to say, never feeling more manipulated, violated, and used before in his life. First, a chip had been implanted in his brain, now this?
“Say something, please,” Pete said, watching him, finding his silence unsettling. MacGyver continued to stare out the glass doors. “Look, I know it’s hard, but I also know you want to remember Ashley. You told me so yourself today at the cemetery.”
“How could he do this to me?” MacGyver asked quietly, working his jaw, clenching it in anger.
“I don’t know,” Pete said, sighing. “I guess in his misguided way he thought he was trying to help you after everything you’d been through, maybe trying to make it up to you after creating that chip and watching its devastating effects on you. Now, he’s willing to come clean, though. He says he’s willing to reverse it and try to bring your memories back.”
“I don’t know, Pete,” MacGyver said. “Another risky procedure…”
“I know.”
“Can he really do what he claims?”
“Supposedly,” Pete said, shrugging. “Look at all he’s been able to do so far. He’s the most advanced neurosurgeon I know. He seems to have more knowledge about the brain, its structures, and functions than I have ever seen before.”
“Still…”
“I know, Mac. As I said, it’s up to you.”
“If I got those memories of Ashley back, I would also get the pain back—not just of my guilt, but memories of Evan’s torture as well.”
“Memories are connected that way,” Pete said. “None of them are perfect. You get both the pleasant and painful ones. I’m not even sure someone whose methods are as advanced as sophisticated as Dr. Warren’s could ever successfully keep them separate. You would get both the good and the bad. That’s just how it would be. That’s why I want you to think carefully about this. True, he did manipulate your brain and cause you to forget, but you have to admit from his perspective that it probably did help you to not relive her suicide so vividly and not re-experience your torture in the form of nightmares. Are you better off without those memories, or would they help you heal and find closure? I just don’t know. That’s why you have to decide. I will tell you this, though—I’m sure given the choice many people would want certain memories erased because they were either too painful or embarrassing, but what would be the personal cost, the consequences? Even bad memories help us learn from life. If we got rid of them, we would never have any experience and would keep making the same mistakes repeatedly. No amount of memory removal could change that.”
MacGyver sighed. He knew Pete was right. If those memories returned to him, he knew they would be unpleasant, but he might learn from them. Learn what? To be more loving, to recognize the symptoms and know when someone needed help psychologically…all of those were possibilities. Perhaps Ashley’s death would not have been in vain if he could learn something from it and improve communication in his next relationship.
“What do you think, Mac? I know it isn’t easy, and I don’t expect a final decision now, but I’d like to know what direction you’re thinking of taking.”
“Ashley’s death did cause a lot of suffering for everyone involved, including her,” MacGyver said. “If I did remember everything again, it could be instructive in my life. Still, there is the pain…I just don’t know if I could handle it again, Pete. I’m thinking about it.”
“Think about it all you want to, Mac,” Pete said. “Whatever you decide, I’ll support you. I’ll be here for you.”
“I know you will. I appreciate it.”
***
That evening, MacGyver had a dream. He was in the cemetery again, faced with duplicate gravestones carved with Ashley’s inscription. One of them was covered in a wilted, withering, dying rose. The other was covered with a fresh, thriving, new rose.
“Pick one up,” a voice said.
“You choose. It’s your decision.” MacGyver stared at the roses, considering each of them carefully, thinking he knew which one he would pick up, but he didn’t. He just didn’t know, and he didn’t think he ever would.
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
