Disclaimer: I don't own CBS, or MacGyver - I write these stories purely for pleasure and make no money from them.
Passages – Deleted Scene
MacGyver jerked awake, his breath hitching as he realised he was safe in bed. That damn dream! His hand had been sliding from the quayside and suddenly, a strong, well-loved grip had reached down and lifted him to safety.
Blinking the sleep from his eyes he realised he was staring up into a face of such beauty that he was left speechless. Dark hair framed an elfin face; and eyes as blue as lapis lazuli held his own and the lips smiled.
MacGyver's mouth worked, trying to speak, but nothing emerged. A hand took his own, "It's all right, Mac," the voice was gentle, "it was just the remnants of your escape from the Osiris." He felt her left hand on the top of his head and managed a weary smile. "I come to bring you some news," the Angel said gently.
"News?" he frowned in puzzlement.
"Your parents and grandparents are safely home. They send their love."
A smile touched Mac's lips and a single tear slid down the side of his face, Haniel stroked his forehead, "Hush," she said softly, "there is no need for tears. Everything will be all right." She turned to someone behind her and her hand tightened in MacGyver's, "it is unusual, but as you seem to like setting precedents there is someone here to see you."
Another figure stepped forward and took Mac's left hand, his eyes widened and he mouthed, "Booker?"
"When Haniel said that she was coming here to make sure you were all right, I begged to be allowed to accompany her. I wanted to tell you that it wasn't your fault – I'm fine. You'll tell Cynthia?"
MacGyver managed a faint nod, his throat too full to speak and then Booker gave his hand a final squeeze and faded into nothingness.
"You must sleep," Haniel said softly, "everything will be all right."
Mac wanted to beg her to stay, but somehow he couldn't find the words, she stroked the hair away from his forehead, "Go to sleep," she said quietly, and with her words and voice a wave of weariness crashed over him and his last memory was of her hand warm and solid in his own.
Haniel smiled down at the now sleeping man, "Thou art wonderfully and surely blessed, Angus MacGyver. Be well."
At that moment the door opened and Pete Thornton entered the room. He started when he saw the Angel and then joy radiating from his face he gasped, "Haniel!"
The Herald clasped both of his hands in its own, "Peter! It is good to see you again."
"How is he?" Thornton asked, coming to stand beside the bed.
"He'll be all right," Haniel smiled.
Pete relaxed, "Good. I thought I was going to have to say 'Goodbye' to him."
Haniel looked up, an odd expression on her face, "But I thought you knew – when he was falling from the ship you caught him."
Pete blinked at 'her', "Are you certain?"
"Certain sure. Angels only speak the truth Peter Thornton. You brought him back."
Thornton laid his hand on his friend's arm, and when he spoke again his voice was thick, "Then why are you here?"
Haniel smiled, "Sometimes a journey into the Spirit World can leave traces; you might call it trauma. I came to address that issue."
"So he won't remember it?" Pete asked.
"He'll remember it," Haniel replied, "but it will not haunt him."
Pete nodded, "Thank God," he said softly.
"Indeed," Haniel replied gently, "but I was pleased to come. Be well, Peter Thornton." And then he was alone, the only evidence of Haniel's presence a large, shining white feather tumbling to the floor.
The End