
Phoenix Field Agent
      
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Joined: 11 Jan 2006
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Season: season 3
Episode:Passages
Vehicle: Jeep
Jacket: Black leather
House: House boat

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Accusations Part Twelve Rated: PG “I’m increasing the security presence around your room,” Pete said. MacGyver opened his mouth to object, but Pete silenced his protests with the raise of his hand. “Now, I know what you’re going to say. You’re tired of being shut up in here and you want to go home, which is understandable, but until we can arrange for adequate protection, the hospital is the safest place for you to be right now, where you can be closely monitored and placed under heavy guard and surveillance, making sure nothing suspicious happens. Remember, this man is dangerous. I don’t know what association he has with you, but it’s abundantly clear that he wishes you harm.” “I know, Pete,” MacGyver said, sighing. “You’re just doing what’s in my best interest. It’s just…I feel as if I’ve been a prisoner for so long, even if I only imagined everything I just told you. Now, I’m going to be locked up in here when I don’t even feel the effects of the drug anymore, when I feel just fine?” “I know. I know it’s frustrating, but I promise you it won’t be for long. The police are conducting a thorough, extensive search to recapture this guy. With any luck, he’ll be caught again soon.” “What if he isn’t?” “Then we’ll arrange for some form of protective custody for you once it’s safe to release you from the hospital.” Protective custody. MacGyver had heard those words before. They were just another code name for a safe house, for solitary, restricted confinement. Of course a house was different from the cramped, claustrophobic cell he had been placed in during his drug-induced dreams, but it was still a form of imprisonment all the same. Groaning, he dropped his head back against the pillow. “Look, I don’t like this situation any more than you do, but we can’t afford the risk that he might do something else to you. We’ll spare no efforts or expenses to help bring this guy to justice and keep you safe.” “As much as I hate the idea, I understand the need and I do appreciate it,” MacGyver said. Pete smiled. “Well, I care about you,” he said. “I don’t want to see you get hurt. That monster has already manipulated you enough. God knows what he’d do to you now that his plan has failed.” He looked up at the door to the room, hearing the low, deep hums and murmurs of various voices of security men assembling outside. “I’d better go coordinate with them and make sure that they understand their orders and that you’re to be under constant watch,” he said. “Just rest for now, all right? Everything will be taken care of, I promise. You’ll be just fine.” MacGyver yawned and stretched. “I do feel a little tired,” he said, smiling lazily. Pete was relieved to see him looking so healthy after his ordeal, looking like a disheveled boy ready for a nap instead of a sickly pale patient, moaning, writhing, and convulsing from the effects of the drug on his body. “You should. After all, you’ve been through a lot. You’ll be safe now though,” he said. “Go ahead and sleep.” Following Pete’s orders, MacGyver slowly closed his eyes, drifting away into what would be his first restful sleep since he had been drugged and the unpleasant, terrifying experiences of his vivid nightmares and hallucinations began.
*** The male nurse entered MacGyver’s room. He was unnoticed by the men guarding the door, who believed he was there for a routine visit, paying him no attention, granting him access to his patient without further thought or consideration, having no reason to suspect him of any nefarious purpose. Approaching MacGyver’s bed, he removed a syringe from beneath the folds of his scrubs and inserted it in his I.V. line, injecting its contents into his veins. Grinning, he watched and waited for the reaction to occur. MacGyver once again felt the sensation of being pulled underwater by the heavy, leaded weight attached to his ankle, unable to move, unable to draw breath, slowly suffocating as the liquid invaded his lungs…
Snapping his eyes open in terror, MacGyver found that he was still in his hospital room, yet he still couldn’t breathe, his body completely paralyzed and numbed, slowly shutting down, ceasing its functions. A man stood in front of him, his waxen, unhealthy complexion and features familiar to him. For a moment his appearance blended between past and present, and he recognized him as Thomas, his persecutor from the Puritan era. Not understanding how it was possible to be seeing a man from the past, a man he had conjured up during a hallucination, he tried to speak, tried to cry out, but he couldn’t. He was completely helpless, slowly dying, suffering from the frightening experience of total asphyxiation. The man’s image began to blur as he felt himself weakening, losing consciousness, darkness gathering around the corners of his eyes and threatening to close around him. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way, MacGyver,” the man’s voice said. “You were supposed to be convicted of the crime, sentenced to death by lethal injection. Well, it appears I had to finish what the system could not.” MacGyver had difficulty comprehending, the man’s voice echoing and distorted in his oxygen-deprived mind. He managed a small, gurgling wheeze, his lungs stilled and not cooperating, his body not responding to his panicked, terrified, and desperate commands to move. “Maybe now you’ll reconsider ruining a man’s life and career,” the man said, staring coldly at his helpless victim. Turning, he left the room as calmly as he had entered it, his presence once again undetected by the security men standing outside, considered harmless and allowed to continue on his way. Come on, MacGyver! You can’t do this now! You have to move, have to breathe! Come on! No…this has to be another dream somehow. This can’t be real. Come on, breathe…breathe…
The heart monitor squealed shrilly, a flat, uninterrupted line appearing on the screen.
*** “What the hell is going on?” Pete asked, rushing frantically down the corridor toward MacGyver’s room. “I’m not entirely sure, Mr. Thornton,” one of the Phoenix security men guarding MacGyver’s door said. “All of the sudden, MacGyver just crashed. The doctors are in there with him right now, trying to revive him.” Pete stared in horror at the closed door, wishing he could burst through it and see what was happening to his friend on the other side, wondering how events could have changed so dramatically when all indications were that he would recover. “Did you see anyone before this started? Anyone suspicious?” He asked. “I assure you no attempt at an unauthorized entry was made,” the security man said. “The only person who was granted access and security clearance before this began was a male nurse.” “Wait a minute…did you say a male nurse?” “Yes, Mr. Thornton.” Through the inner turmoil and chaos racing through his mind, Pete carefully considered what he had just been told. “When did all this start?” He asked. “Not long after…” the guard began to realize what Pete was thinking. “Are you suggesting the nurse had something to do with MacGyver’s current condition?” “It’s too much of a coincidence not to have some connection,” Pete said. “It had to be the suspect in disguise.” The guard flushed, his eyes wide with shock. “Oh God…I…I didn’t…” “There’s no time to assign blame or be embarrassed,” Pete said. “What’s done is done. A mistake was made, but we must move on. Inform the police immediately and have them put out an APB on the suspect. Tell them that he was here in the hospital and that he tried to make an attempt on MacGyver’s life. Do it quickly!” “Yes sir,” the man said, running to call the police. Pete turned and looked at the closed door again. He couldn’t stand it any longer, being shut out, unable to know what was happening to his friend. Deciding to ignore all hospital protocol and decorum, he pushed his way through the barrier, faced abruptly with the stark reality of MacGyver battling for his life, barely clinging to it, doctors and nurses swarming around his unresponsive body, frantically working to resuscitate him, the heart monitor screaming and wailing, volubly expressing the urgency of the situation. Defibrillator paddles were pressed to his chest, causing his body to jump and Pete’s heart to leap with it. “Clear!” A doctor shouted, once again applying the paddles to MacGyver’s chest, the sound like a violent punch slapping against his bare flesh. His body moved in response to the jolt of electricity then once again became still. “Clear!” Pete began sobbing, believing he was witnessing the final moments of his friend’s life, powerless to save him. In the midst of the chaos in the room a nurse spotted him. “Sir, you can’t be in here now!” She shouted. One of the doctors working on MacGyver looked up and also saw him. Excusing himself, leaving the duties of resuscitating the patient to the rest of the staff, he approached Pete, a grave expression on his face. “I’m sorry sir, but you can’t be in here right now,” he said. “But that’s my best friend!” Pete said, sobbing louder, inconsolable. The doctor gently placed his hand on Pete’s trembling back. “I understand that, and we’re doing everything we can for him,” he said quietly, “but I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to wait outside.” “But, what’s happening to him?” “We’re not sure yet. The lab results are still coming in. I promise you that as soon as I’m available I will update you on his condition, all right? Now please, sir…” Reluctantly, Pete allowed himself to be ushered out of the room, left to a lonely, isolated world removed and separated from his friend, facing a long, agonizing wait, uncertain whether he would ever see MacGyver alive again.
To be continued…

"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
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