All In His Head

"That's excellent, Mac!" Pete exclaimed, both excited and relieved that his friend had finally found his way 'home'. "You were the best field operative the Phoenix Foundation ever had. I'm sure they'll be glad to have you back."

MacGyver sighed and relaxed back into the supple leather chair. "So, when do you want me to start? I bet you got a ton of files on your desk screaming for attention. And I'm not picky...yet. Send me to rescue some diplomat in Timbuktu or track the mating ritual of polar bears in the Arctic Circle….your wish is my command!"

"Um, Mac…" Pete started hesitantly, "things have changed…."

The seriousness in his friend's voice caused MacGyver to once again lean forward in his chair. He was getting a gut feeling again, and it wasn't good.

"What 'things'?"

Pete sighed gustily. From the moment MacGyver had called him from San Francisco he knew this conversation was coming. "Mac, accepting your resignation was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. Things just weren't the same without you around. And when Connie reached out to me, well, my priorities changed."

"Changed how, Pete?"

"I realized there's more to life than work. Can you believe it! Me, the eternal work-a-holic," he chuckled. "Anyway, about a year after you left, I put in for retirement.

My eyesight wasn't going to get any better and it felt really good having Connie back in my life, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I know Pete," Mac replied earnestly. Hearth and home. At least one of them had found it.

The older man continued, "Knowing I'd go stark raving mad just rattling around at home, the Board of Directors agreed to keep me on as a consultant for some of the more challenging projects."

"Am I one of those projects?"

"When haven't you been!" The two men laughed, easing some of the tension that had hung in the air between them.

"So," MacGyver started determinedly, "how do I go about re-upping?" He felt sad and disappointed that he and Pete wouldn't be working together like they used to. Things were certainly going to be different, but he still believed going back to Phoenix was what he had to do.

Pete stayed silent for a moment. He knew Mac wasn't going to like what he had to say.

"Peeeeete?"

"The Foundation has become increasingly concerned about the overall health and well-being of their employees. In particular, their field operatives. I still have enough pull to get you in the door, but from there it's all on you."

"Fair enough. Just tell me what I gotta do."

"Well, you'll have to pass a physical exam," Pete began.

"I wouldn't expect anything less," Mac interjected. "I can ace that obstacle course."

"Undoubtedly, especially since you're the one who created 'Macgyverland'," Pete grinned before continuing. "But it's more than that, now. You also have to pass a comprehensive medical exam as well as a psychological profile assessment." Pete waited for the resistance he knew would come quickly.

"Awww, C'mon Pete!" Mac whined, sounding for all the world like a petulant child. "The last time they poked around in my head they recommended you fire me because they thought I was burning out," his voice dead serious now.

"I know how you feel about those evaluations, Mac," Pete said gently, "but it's standard operating procedure now."

Pete anxiously awaited MacGyver's response. How badly did his friend want this? Would this be the deal breaker?

Mac sighed and threw his hands in the air as if surrendering. "All right, just tell me when and where and I'll be there."

"I'll put in a call this afternoon and let you know," Pete replied as relief washed over him. He had expected MacGyver to dig in his heels. Obviously, Mac was itching to get back to the work he thrived on.

The two men rose from their chairs and headed to the front door. MacGyver reached out for Pete's hand and shook it. "Thanks for helping me out," he said. "So, got any inside info that'll help me pass these tests?"

Pete chuckled, "Just be nice to them, Mac. They're only doing their jobs. And," he added, "you might wanna get a haircut!"

"You know Pete, I may just do that," MacGyver replied, running his hand through his shaggy hair as he headed to his car.

MacGyver did not get a haircut, but he did arrive ten minutes early to his appointment with the Foundation's new staff physician. As he sat in the lobby, flipping through an outdated magazine, he felt a rare onslaught of nerves. Which was ridiculous, of course. He had nothing to be nervous about. He was in great physical condition if he did say so himself. And it had been several days since he had even a mild headache. This would be a breeze.

A middle-aged man with graying hair and a slender build soon entered the room and introduced himself to MacGyver as Dr. Kastner. The two men shook hands before the doctor started flipping through the thick file he held.

"Ah yes, Mr. MacGyver," the doctor addressed him. "You have quite a lengthy, and interesting, medical history."

"What can I say, Doctor? I have an interesting job."

"Hmmmm," was all the doctor said as MacGyver shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Apparently 'Vagueness 101' was a prerequisite for medical school.

MacGyver was in the small exam room buttoning up his shirt when Dr. Kastner came in and sat down, a concerned look on his face.

"What's up, Doc?" Mac asked, and then flinched as the doctor grimaced at his Bugs Bunny remark.

"Have a seat, Mr. MacGyver," the doctor said as he motioned to a chair across from the exam table.

MacGyver obeyed as the doctor continued. "As I was looking through your chart, I couldn't help but notice the numerous head injuries you've sustained over the years. More than one has resulted in a concussion and even amnesia." The man fixed MacGyver with a concerned stare. "When was the last time you suffered a blow to the head?"

"Well, I really can't remember, sir," MacGyver replied. "That's not a good answer, is it?"

The doctor remained silent.

"Alright, a few months back I was on vacation and found myself in a 'situation' of sorts."

"Exactly what kind of 'situation' are you talking about Mr. MacGyver?"

"Oh, you know, the kind where someone took offense to something I said and introduced my head to the sidewalk." Mac knew that wasn't what the doc wanted to hear, but he also knew he had to be honest if he was going to get back into the Foundation.

"I see," the doctor replied calmly. "Did you lose consciousness?"

"No, just a bit of my pride."

"Tell me, Mr. MacGyver, have you been experiencing any issues such as headaches, dizziness, trouble concentrating, recall problems?"

Time to come clean.

"Well, I have been having headaches off and on for a while now. But they always go away."

"Do you experience nausea or light-headedness with these headaches?"

"Sometimes," MacGyver grudgingly admitted.

"I see," the doctor said gently. "Head injuries are serious business. They can have long-term effects which aren't always immediately noticeable. I'm going to order an MRI of your head and neck." The doctor held up a hand to stop Mac's protest. "It's in your best interest."

"And I won't be cleared to return until I comply, correct?"

"I'm afraid so. It's –"

"Standard operating procedure," Mac cut in, his voice flat.

That afternoon found MacGyver sitting in yet another office lobby. This one belonged to Dr. Darnell, the Foundation's psychiatric guru. The same doctor who found Mac unfit to work a case due to job burn out. MacGyver wasn't nervous about this appointment. He was ready. To his surprise, the interview was not as challenging as he had anticipated. Apparently, taking a three year vacation had 'cured' his 'burn out' and Dr. Darnell promised to declare MacGyver fit for return to his previous status as soon as he was cleared by Dr. Kastner. That's not to say there weren't a few speed bumps he had needed to flatten along the way. The doctor had worn a frown as MacGyver's sudden departure from Phoenix was recounted. Apparently, for most folks, leaving town and all your earthly possessions behind at a moment's notice to go on a road trip with a son you never knew for an indeterminate length of time was generally frowned upon. Of equal concern was MacGyver's less than stellar coping mechanisms when said son up and left for the Middle East with a day's notice. But in the end, Mac was able to assure Dr. Darnell that his motives were pure, his loyalties true, and his psyche sound. He just need to get back to work. That was all that mattered.

MacGyver awoke slowly as the late December sun labored to penetrate the window shades he had pulled the night before. The familiar pounding in his temples had returned, along with a dull ache that encompassed his entire head. He forced his eyes open, only to blink against the muted sunlight. "Aw man," he moaned, as he closed his eyes and rolled over, trying to bury his head in his pillow. "I really should have taken Pete up on his offer instead," he thought as he decided whether getting up was worth the effort…and pain. He took some comfort in knowing that his particular headache had nothing to do with getting hit in the head, but everything to do with Mama Lorraine's Christmas Celebration Extraordinaire the previous day.

In retrospect, he really should have taken Pete and Connie up on their invitation when they had asked him to Christmas Day dinner at their house, but he had graciously bowed out, not wanting to feel like a third wheel on the festive day. Unfortunately, MacGyver found that it was darn near impossible to decline Mama Lorraine's invitation.

By noon on Christmas Day, the street below MacGyver's apartment had been barricaded off and a large, gaily decorated fir tree took center stage, an almost life-size nativity scene nestled under its lowest boughs. Hours later, tantalizing smells began pouring out from his neighbors' houses and he joined the small crowd gathering in the street. The dinner hour saw the sun dipping below the horizon and the street bustling with men, women and children in colorful Haitian garb dancing to native and popular music that blared from large speakers and wishing everyone they met a Merry Christmas or Jwaye Nowe. Long tables laden with every kind of food imaginable framed the perimeter of the festivities.

Now, one of the perks of Mac's job had been traveling around the world and immersing himself in various cultures. He had missed that these past few years, so he happily joined in the celebration Mama Lorraine had orchestrated. He clapped his hands to the music, played street games with the children, and joined in on some caroling once the words turned to English. He even had a kiss stolen by a pretty young blonde. Apparently mistletoe was a universal language. Every time he turned around he was handed a disposable plate heaping with delightful tastes and textures. As Mac enjoyed the variety of bold, spicy dishes he headed towards a large metal tub filled with ice and bottled water. He had just reached out his hand to grab one when he heard giggling behind him and looked over his shoulder to see several young boys gathered around what appeared to be a large punch bowl.

"Hey Mister!" a little dark-haired boy called.

Mac estimated the child to be around nine or ten years old. The water forgotten, he made his way over to the boy.

"Jwaye Nowe," Mac wished the boy a Merry Christmas. Apparently, he didn't get the pronunciation quite right as the group once again broke into a round of laughter.

When the boys had settled down, the one who had first called out to him approached with a cup of whatever the bowl held, presumably a fruit punch as MacGyver had seen adults and children alike drinking it as they roamed the street. Mac accepted the cup with a smile and made a big show of taking an experimental sip. The liquid was sweet with notes of licorice and just a touch of bitterness. MacGyver emptied the cup in two more swallows.

"Outstanding!" Mac declared, and within seconds the boy was handing him another cupful which he drank a little slower this time. He found the taste interesting and oddly addictive…sorta like potato chips. He was on his fourth cup when he met up with a happy and energized Mama Lorraine.

"Ah, MacGyver!" She called, her Haitian accent a bit heavier than usual. "I see you have been introduced to anisette."

When she saw the confusion on his face she tipped her head to the almost empty cup in his hand.

"Yeah," Mac replied with an easy smile. "Good stuff." And he held up his glass in a mock toast.

"And all this time you telling me you don't imbibe!"

"I don't."

"You do now, my boy!" Mama called as she headed off to mingle with the other revelers.

Mac shrugged his shoulders and headed back for another cup of punch…um, anisette.

It was nearly 2am before MacGyver tumbled into bed, and almost 3am before the sounds of the street party below died down enough to allow him to drift into peaceful oblivion. And it was back to that oblivion he now wished to return when he heard a distinctive knock on his door.

"Not now, Mama," he grumbled as he struggled to sit upright. The room started to spin. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that when he opened them again everything would be standing still.

The knocking continued

"I'm coming," he tried to holler, but his voice was weak and his mouth dry.

MacGyver opened the door to find a glowing Mama Lorraine on the other side, her smile as bright as the sunshine that hurt his eyes.

"That wasn't punch I was drinking last night, was it?" he asked before Mama could say a word.

"No, my dear MacGyver," she crooned. "It was anisette. A sweet drink with just a touch of the spirits."

"There was more than a 'touch' in that stuff. My head is killing me! Why do you let the kids drink that?!"

"The children, they are used to it and only have but a cup. But you are not used to the liquid spirits so I brought you this to drive off the remains I knew you must be suffering from."

It was only then that MacGyver noticed the glass of brown goop she held out to him. "This will help you feel better."

Mac sighed as he opened the door wider so she could enter.

"I am NOT drinking THAT!" he proclaimed emphatically.

'But it will—"

"I am not drinking that," he declared again, cutting her off. Normally, he would welcome one of Mama Lorraine's natural home-grown cures, but he didn't think he could stomach this one right now. "I'm sorry, Mama, I just don't feel like—"

The ringing of his phone interrupted the conversation.

"Excuse me," he said to Mama as he picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Hello, my name is Jenny and I'm calling from Dr. Kastner's office. Is Mr. MacGyver available?"

Good. The results of his MRI were back. He was eager to get back to work.

"This is MacGyver."

"Dr. Kastner asked that I schedule an appointment for you to come in and discuss the results of your MRI as soon as possible."

MacGyver sighed. "Can't you just tell me over the phone? Do I really need to come in?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but yes, the doctor wishes to speak with you in person."

"All right," Mac gave in a scheduled an appointment for the next day. He hung up the phone and turned to find Mama Lorraine still standing in his living room.

"Did you get some bad news, hon?" she asked, concerned etched on her brow.

"No. At least I don't think so. Apparently it's just standard operating procedure."

The following morning saw MacGyver once again waiting in Dr. Kastner's lobby flipping through the same magazine as before. However, unlike his previous visit the week before, Mac did not feel a bit nervous. He was anxious. Anxious to have the doctor sign off on his chart and declare him fit for work.

Within minutes, Dr. Kastner opened a door and bid MacGyver to enter his office. The room was well-appointed with a large, mahogany desk, expensive leather chairs, and framed degrees hanging on the walls. As the doctor settled himself behind his desk, Mac took a seat across from him.

"So," MacGyver started the conversation, "when can I start working?"

Dr. Kastner regarded the younger man in front of him with concern in his eyes.

"That's why I wanted to speak with you in person. We have a few things to discuss."

Mac's stomach began to roil and his palms began to sweat. He instinctively knew that he did not want to hear what the doctor had to say.

"I'll get right to the point," Dr. Kastner continued. His voice was gentle now. "The MRI showed some abnormalities on your brain."

"What do you mean by 'abnormalities'?" MacGyver knew a fair deal about human biology and he wanted real answers.

"It's hard to say exactly, without further examination, but given your history and recent headaches, I am fairly certain that the shadow we found is either built up scar tissue from over the years or a bruise on the brain from a recent encounter with a sidewalk you mentioned. If it is, indeed, a bruise, it should heal itself. If it is scar tissue, we may have to be more pro-active."

"You mean surgery, right?"

"It probably won't come to that, but it is a possibility. My recommendation for right now is to follow-up with another MRI in a month to see if there are any changes. If it is a bruise and it heals, I'll clear you for field duty."

"And until then?" MacGyver asked.

"I am going to release you to light duty. The best thing you can do right now is get plenty of rest, take pain meds as needed for the headaches, and most importantly, protect that head of yours from sidewalks, fists, and any other 'incidences' that could cause trauma to your brain."

"So I guess taking up boxing is out of the question," Mac quipped, trying to lighten the heavy mood that had descended on him.

"Yes," Dr. Kastner smiled sadly, "I'm afraid it is."

MacGyver stood up and prepared to leave the office. He thanked the doctor for his time and honesty, gave a weak smile and walked out the door. He had to talk to Pete.

"They want me to be a desk jockey, Pete!" MacGyver all but yelled into the phone. He had called Pete immediately upon returning to his apartment, not even bothering to take off his jacket.

Pete sighed, "I'm sorry, Mac. I know how you feel."

"There is absolutely no way you can know how I feel!" As soon as the words left his mouth MacGyver regretted them. Pete may be the only person who could empathize since Pete had been forced out of the Foundation due to a medical condition as well.

"I'm sorry, Pete. I didn't mean that."

"I know, Mac. Forget about it." So," Pete continued, "what are you going to do now?"

"I don't know, Pete," Mac replied. "I never thought of doing anything else but field ops. I'd go nuts sitting at a desk all day. They'll probably even make me cut my hair."

Pete chuckled, "Well, hopefully it won't come to THAT!"

MacGyver laughed, then turned solemn. "Seriously Pete, what are my options?"

"Well, I'm sure they could use you in Research and Development. You've always liked tinkering with things. There are plenty of projects going on at Phoenix that would welcome your knowledge and, um, creativity."

"Yeah, I guess…."

"Look, first thing tomorrow I'll put in a call. See where I can get you assigned. And look on the bright side, it may only be for a month and then you can get back to gallivanting around the globe saving lives with duct tape and paper clips. If not, perhaps it's your body's way of telling you you're getting too old for that kind of stuff and you need to take it easy."

"Gosh Pete, you sure know how to cheer a guy up," MacGyver replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.