I rated this part R for some implied rape, but nothing too graphic. I did my best to keep it decent enough for the forum, but it is still violent, so please consider yourselves warned and use your discretion when reading this part if you are sensitive. Otherwise, enjoy!

Accusations Part Eight
Rated: R (some implied rape)

After MacGyver finished relating his astonishing story to the psychologist assigned to him to determine his mental state and to provide testimony by his attorney for a possible insanity plea, she scribbled her notes furiously and then stared at him, observing him carefully.

“I must say that is a lot more information than you were willing to divulge during your first session with me,” she said. “You were almost catatonic at times, uncommunicative at others. And you say that you remember nothing about the events surrounding and leading to your arrest, only waking up after this…dream to find yourself inexplicably behind bars, is that correct?”

“Yes,” MacGyver said, sighing, feeling uncomfortable. “I don’t know what happened, only that it seemed so real, as if I was actually there. I…I know how that must sound…”

The psychologist smiled slightly. “It’s all right,” she said. “Can you think of a reason for why you experienced this journey back in time?”

MacGyver shook his head. “No, I can’t,” he said.

The psychologist jotted down more notes and then looked back up at him. “MacGyver, if I may…” she said. “Sometimes, an event can become too traumatic for a person to handle. They can invent new versions of what happened, distorting reality as a coping mechanism, forgetting the details of the actual event itself. Perhaps this is what happened in your situation.”

“Are you suggesting I’m delusional?” MacGyver asked. “Look, I’ll be the first to admit that what I told you is…strange. I’m not so sure what to make of it myself, not sure what to believe. But if I committed an act as violent as what I’m accused of, I’m sure I would remember doing it.”

“Not necessarily,” the psychologist said, “and I am not suggesting that you had any part in that woman’s slaying or sexual assault. What I am suggesting, however, is that perhaps you witnessed something else, something too terrible for your mind to process, therefore altering your memory and causing you to imagine this other world into existence.”

“Why would I do that? You’re saying it was to protect myself? A defense mechanism?”

The psychologist inclined her head slightly. “Yes,” she said. “Consider how similar the details are…in both worlds, in both time periods, you were accused of a crime, the evidence strongly against you. The young woman’s name in both versions was Emily.”

“I rescued her,” MacGyver said. “I saved her life. Do you think…I could have been trying to save her life in this time as well, that I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

The psychologist shrugged. “It’s one of your attorney’s theories at the moment, and it is mine as well,” she said. “It is not up to me to judge you, to assign guilt or innocence. That will be for the jury to decide. I do not know whether you are capable of such an act as you have been accused of, but I do know that it appears you were at the scene of the crime that evening, and that something happened to you that was so intense you could not remember it, except through this idea of traveling through time to a different era.”

MacGyver considered what she was saying. “So…how do I remember?” He asked.

“There are many methods I could employ, hypnosis among them,” the psychologist said. “However, that has often been proved to be unreliable. I recommend using relaxation and breathing techniques that I can teach you to use on your body as best as you can, especially at night, making your mind more receptive and open to your dreams. Listen to your subconscious mind, see what new images it conjures up for you, if any new details emerge.”

“You think that might work, that it might help?”

The psychologist shrugged. “It might help unblock anything that you’re repressing,” she said. “It will be a slow process, and I would not expect to see immediate results, but if you keep practicing the techniques, you could have a breakthrough.”

MacGyver nodded. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try,” he said. “At this point, I’m desperate to try anything that would help me remember. I can’t even begin to tell you how frustrating this is for me, especially with my future in the balance. I’d be willing to do it, if it will help prove my innocence.”

“All right,” the psychologist said. “Then I will show you what you need to do.”

***

“What’s the latest report from MacGyver’s psychologist?” Pete asked, meeting with Bob in his office at The Phoenix Foundation. Papers lay scattered and piled haphazardly across his desk. He had been unable to focus on work since MacGyver’s arrest, and now his neglect was beginning to show.

“He told her the same story he told you, about being in a different time,” Bob said. “She believes that he created this fantasy as a protective mechanism, that whatever he witnessed at the scene of the crime was too much for him to take.”

“So he really does sound crazy, after all,” Pete said in dismay, sighing.

“This is good news, Mr. Thornton,” Bob said.

Pete looked at him crossly. “How could this possibly be good news?” He asked.

“Think about it…in order to establish a convincing insanity defense we have to prove that MacGyver couldn’t tell right from wrong during the committing of the crime, that he was unaware of his actions.”

“You’re not suggesting that he’s actually guilty of something so heinous, are you?”

“No, but at this point, with the evidence mounting against him, the insanity defense might be our best strategy.”

“What about your investigation? The autopsy on the woman? Toxicology reports on MacGyver? Surely, they could still find something…”

Bob sighed and shook his head, looking at Pete gravely. “It’s not looking good,” he said. “Any evidence implicating another party is scant at best.”

“I see,” Pete said, rubbing his chin in deep thought and contemplation. As much as he hated the idea of having MacGyver committed to a psychiatric institution, at least he knew there he would be safe, free from the threat of execution.

“Listen, I know how difficult this is for you and for my client, but as your attorney, as your counselor, I’m advising you that we should pursue the insanity defense. Any other approach we try will not have enough evidence to support it, it won’t be successful, and a jury will convict him. I’m certain of it. This is an urgent situation, and we have to act in MacGyver’s best interest.”

“If you feel it’s the only way…”

“I do, Mr. Thornton.”

The two men stood facing each other, staring, completely still. Their tense silence was broken by the shrill ringing of Pete’s office phone.

“I’d like to answer it, if you would allow me,” Bob said. “I gave this phone number as one of my contact numbers. I hope you don’t mind, but it seems I’ve been here more often than I have at my offices lately.”

Pete nodded, gesturing towards the ringing phone. “Go ahead,” he said.

“Bob Farr speaking. What? No, damn it! That’s impossible! How could this have happened? Oh my God. All right. Keep me informed.” Hanging up after the brief call, Bob stared at Pete, deep concern in his eyes.

“Well, what is it? What’s happened?” Pete asked.

Bob ran a hand through his hair, livid. “I just can’t believe it,” he muttered. “Of all the outrageous…”

“Bob, tell me!”

“You’re not going to like this, Mr. Thornton, but it appears that due to some clerical processing error among prison administration, MacGyver was accidentally released into the general prison population.”

“Well, how is he? Is he all right?”

All Bob could do was shake his head.

***
Hours earlier…

Hardened criminals surrounded MacGyver like a pack of hungry wolves circling and closing in on their vulnerable, defenseless prey, leering at him viciously. Several of them hooted and whistled, taunting him with lewd catcalls and pursing their lips in mock kisses, sniggering and sneering.

“My, aren’t you a pretty one,” One of them said, grinning lasciviously.

Trying to ignore them, to outrun them, MacGyver found that he couldn’t, that he was closed in on all sides, and they were moving in on him, getting closer and tighter around him until he could smell their rank, sour body odor and stale, tobacco-laced breath.

“Where do you think you’re goin’?” Another one of them asked.

MacGyver struggled against them as they pressed and rubbed their bodies up against him, several of them caressing his face. He flinched and tried to wriggle free, but it was impossible. He was outnumbered. Still, he fought back, punching them, his struggles wild and fierce as he bit, clawed, spit, kicked, and snarled, transformed into an aggressive animal battling for his survival, for his freedom. His valiant efforts were in vain as they managed to restrain him, pushing him to the floor, delivering swift kicks and blows, raining them down upon his body, pummeling him constantly until he felt he could no longer stand it, stunned and dazed from the force of the excessive and numerous blows, his consciousness fading, incredible pain, dizziness, and nausea overwhelming him. One of them yanked back his cut, bloodied head by his hair, forcing something in his mouth to prevent him from crying out for help. The others bound his arms and legs in sheets from their prison cots.

“You’re ours, now,” another prisoner said, pressing a handmade knife against his throat, slicing into it, drawing a trickle of blood.

MacGyver grunted against the gag, still struggling mightily. The others laughed, amused by his futile squirming.

“Well boys, it looks like he has a lot of spirit, doesn’t he?” One of them said, slapping him hard across his already bloody, bruised cheek, causing him to release a muffled cry.

“That’s okay. We like a challenge,” another one said, causing them all to titter, their laughter sending shivers of fear and disgust up MacGyver’s spine.

All he could do was watch helplessly in pure terror as they opened their pants. He felt some of them yank his down as well, exposing his bare flesh. The last thing he saw were several men approaching him before a sheet was pulled tightly over his head, suffocating him. He continued to struggle even though it was useless, closing his eyes, trying to block out the horror that he was about to experience…

“All right, break it up!” Someone shouted.

MacGyver could tell beneath the darkness of the sheet wrapped around his head from the authoritarian sound of the voice that it was a guard arriving at just the right time. His entire broken, beaten body shuddered in relief before succumbing to total oblivion, his adrenaline spent, knowing that now he would be safe, his body going slack and collapsing completely to the cement floor, no longer pulling tautly against his bonds or struggling to breathe beneath the sheet covering his face, surrendering, trusting completely in the guards to end his nightmare.

The prisoners groaned in disappointment.

“I said, break it up, now!” Another guard shouted at the men.

Soon, the open area of the prison was surrounded by as many guards and wardens as there were prisoners, all pointing their guns at them, prepared to fire if necessary. Realizing they were defeated, the prisoners slowly backed away, dispersing, grumbling among themselves. Once the threat was over, the guards put away their weapons and turned to help MacGyver, quickly removing the sheet from his head, the gag from his mouth, and untying his bonds. They checked for his pulse, finding it weak but present.

“He’s fine, just unconscious,” one of them said.

“Would you look at this guy?” another one of them asked, noting the extent of the damage the severe beating had caused, MacGyver’s battered and bloodied body covered in cuts, gashes, scrapes, bruises, and lacerations. None of it was shocking or surprising to any of the veterans, all of them having witnessed similar beatings throughout the course of their careers, some of them even worse, some of them leading to a prisoner’s death. “They really did a number on him.”

The head warden stared down at MacGyver’s motionless body, his face expressionless, revealing no emotion, devoid of anything resembling pity or sympathy, what he really felt about the beaten prisoner unclear. “Let’s get him to the prison infirmary,” he said grimly.

To be continued…

That was scary! So glad nothing happened.

You know... sometimes I think there should be "crude/raw" videos of what happens in prission in reality and then show it to ALL school students all over the world. I don't know... perhaps to serve as an example of what life would turn out if they got into the wrong side. Dunno. Sometimes I think a bit too much. Perhaps.

Thanks for another interesting chapter, MacsChick. This story is turning out very intense! Thank you!

intense storline so far, keep it up.

Waaaah, you are so proliferate! I am gone 5 days and you have 3 chapters out- and what chapters!

Can't wait to see what happens next. I wonder if the whole thing with the mushrooms is in a way a hint to what happened in the modern crime problem as well. I mean, regarding the girl and Mac. Gonna wait and see!