Haunted Memories

MacGyver turned off his computer, placed the plastic dust cover over the monitor, leaned back in his office chair and let go a contented sigh as he stretched his arms over his head. After back-to-back field assignments, there had been a mountain of paperwork to wade through, but he was finally done and a week's vacation awaited him. After one final stretch, he eased himself from the chair, picked up his light-weight summer jacket and headed out the door, making sure it was securely locked behind him.

Joanna's office door stood open, and Mac peeked inside only to find her at her desk, computer pushed to the side, pouring over a three inch thick tome. A number of similar books laid on her desk and spilled over onto the floor. Some open. Some closed. Most with yellow sticky notes marking important pages. She was so engrossed in her reading she hadn't noticed him.

"Knock, knock," he said, as he softly wrapped his knuckles on the doorjamb.

Her head shot up. "Oh, Mac! You scared me!"

"Interesting reading?"

"Actually it is," she replied with a tinge of excitement in her voice. "Leroy asked me to help one of the paralegals do some research for a new case. It seemed like a wild goose chase at first, but now things are starting to click."

"You know you have all that information at your fingertips," MacGyver informed her, using his chin to indicate the computer she had pushed aside.

"You know how I feel about computers, Mac. There's nothing quite like the feel and smell of real books. Besides, there are some really old cases here that probably haven't made it into the database yet."

MacGyver nodded his understanding and looked at his watch.

"It's way past six and it's Friday. How about you call it a week and let me take you out to dinner?"

Joanna glanced around her office. "I can't just leave in the middle of this."

"Yes, you can." In a few strides, Mac was beside her pulling her out of her chair with one hand and reaching for her purse with the other. "All your books will still be here on Monday. But I won't."

"Oh, that's right! I forgot you were planning on going up to Harry's cabin for the week."

"You gonna miss me?" he asked with a mischievous grin as his hands settled on her hips.

"I guess we won't know that until you're gone," she teased back, breaking free of his grasp as she so often did. "Now, what was that about taking me to dinner?"

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The flight attendant frowned as she approached his seat.

"Sir, we are on final approach. I must insist that you remove your foot from the aisle and adjust your seat to its upright position."

The brown-haired twenty-something passenger muttered a curse under his breath before offering a half-hearted apology. It wasn't her fault that it had taken him twenty-four hours to travel from Germany to the United States. Nor was it her fault that his leg was stiff and throbbing from sitting, then standing, then sitting some more only to have the monotony broken by dashing to various boarding gates as his flights got rescheduled. He offhandedly wondered where his luggage had ended up. After straightening his seat, he reached out and gingerly pulled his left leg into the tight space between him and the seat in front of him. The young man craned his neck to look out the window, relieved to see the landing lights of the runway at Milwaukee's Mitchell Field rapidly approaching. His journey was finally over.

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MacGyver pulled the Nomad into his driveway, Joanna parking on his tail. It felt good to be back behind the wheel of the classic ride he had so painstakingly restored since his crash last winter. However, this week it would remain in the garage since the Jeep was better built for the rural Minnesota terrain.

"Thanks for dragging me out of my office," Joanna thanked him as she approached. "Dinner was great!"

Mac chuckled to himself as they walked hand-in-hand toward his front door. They had participated in the traditional Wisconsin Friday night fish fry at a local sports bar, hardly anything special, yet Joanna was pleased all the same. That was one of the things he loved about her. She didn't need fancy restaurants or elaborate plans to have a good time.

He put the key in the lock and turned. Silence. No click of the bolt sliding into place. "Oh no, not again," he mumbled as visions of the Fourth of July flashed before his eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"The door is unlocked."

"Are you sure you locked it when you came home at lunch to let Frog out?"

"Yes, I'm sure," he insisted in a loud whisper. "I think."

"Do you want me to go to Charlie's and call the police?"

"No. Just stay here 'til I check things out."

Mac allowed the door to swing open before he quietly crossed the threshold. He immediately heard the familiar sounds of doggie toe-nails on the wood floor as Frog hurried to greet him in what had become their nightly ritual. He bent down and ruffled the dog's ears as Frog's body trembled with pleasure. Soon Mac found himself on the receiving end of slobbery face kisses before the dog started wiggling and yelping.

"What's with you tonight?" he asked the chubby animal. "I haven't been gone that long!"

MacGyver didn't have to wait long for answer. Frog skidded across the kitchen floor before finding traction on the carpet and settling himself next to the couch, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. Mac followed at a cautious pace only to find a young man with an ice pack on his knee sleeping on the sofa.

"Sam!"

"Wha—" MacGyver's son jerked awake. "Oh, hi Dad," he replied once his heart rate returned to normal.

"What are you doing here? How did you get in?!"

Sam pushed himself into a sitting position. "Hi Joanna," he waved to the woman now standing in the kitchen.

Mac whirled toward her. How had he forgotten she was behind him? "I'm sorry…" he began.

"No worries," she smiled at him and then at Sam. "I'm sure you have a lot of catching up to do so I'll just get going."

MacGyver gently grabbed her arm and escorted her to the door. "I'm really sorry about this," he told her, his voice low. "I had no idea he was coming."

"It's okay," Jo insisted. "You have a whole week off to spend together. Enjoy it!"

"Yeah," Mac sighed. "Maybe I'll take him up to Harry's cabin. He hasn't seen it yet."

"I'm sure he'd enjoy that."

MacGyver dipped his head and brushed his lips gently against hers. When he looked up, Sam was grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary. "I'll see you in a week," he whispered in her ear before she opened the door and walked out into the night.

Mac turned to his son. "I believe you have something to tell me?"

"What's to tell?" Sam shrugged. "I have some time off so I thought I'd come visit my dad."

"How did you get in?"

"I picked the lock."

Of course he did. He was Mac's son, after all.

"What happened to your knee?" MacGyver asked pointedly.

"It's stupid, really. I was walking around a base at night and stepped in a hole. Wrenched my knee and tore it up pretty good. My boss put me on medical leave."

"Does it hurt much?"

"Nah, it's getting better every day."

Sam hated lying to his father, but he wasn't ready to share the details of the surgeries and rounds of therapy he had endured over the last several weeks and the pain and stiffness that would be his constant companion for months, if not years, to come.

"Look, I'm on vacation next week and was planning on going up to Harry's cabin. Wanna join me?"

"Sure!" Sam agreed eagerly. "I've been wanting to see it since you wrote and told me about it. But what about Frog?"

Mac looked down at the dog who was now fast asleep. He'd call Jo in the morning and have her check in on him while they were gone.

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It was late Saturday afternoon by the time MacGyver and Sam arrived at the cabin after having made a brief stop in town to reconnect with some of Mac's childhood friends and pick up some supplies. Sam gingerly climbed out of the Jeep, pausing to test his knee before trying walk.

"You okay?" Mac asked.

"Yeah, fine. It was just a long ride. I'll walk it off."

Sam slowly headed down a well-worn footpath leaving MacGyver to unpack the Jeep. Mac paused before opening the door to the cabin. He hadn't been back here since his showdown with Murdoc resulting in his nemesis' demise. He shook his head to clear away the memories of the fateful day then turned the doorknob and walked into the large room. It was just as Joanna and he had left it almost five months earlier. He set the grocery sacks on the kitchen table and went out for another load. By the time Sam returned, Mac had the food stowed and the furniture wiped free of the dust that had accumulated.

"How about we try and catch some fish?" MacGyver suggested as Sam lowered himself on the couch.

"I'm kinda tired. Maybe tomorrow?"

"You okay?" Mac asked, concern for his son niggling at him.

"Yeah, I think the jet lag is finally catching up with me."

"All right. Then what do you say we call it an early night and get a fresh start in the morning?"

"Sounds like a plan," Sam agreed, as he maneuvered the short distance between the couch and the bed, obviously trying to hide his limp. But was he also hiding something more?

MacGyver should have been sleeping like a baby. There was no noise, no city lights, no worries to keep him awake, yet he laid in the dark staring at the ceiling. He didn't want to close his eyes because, when he did, he was immediately transported back to the last time he was here: Joanna's face when she realized she was sitting on a bomb, the muzzle of Murdoc's gun pointed at his chest, and worst of all, the look on Murdoc's face when he realized he was going to die. As in life, the madman continued to haunt him in death.

Mac quietly rose from the cot and slipped out the front door, careful not to wake Sam. At least one of them was sleeping. He took a few steps into the small clearing that surrounded the cabin. The summer air had cooled significantly after the sun had gone down and a light breeze now rustled the leaves and teased at his hair. He tilted his head back and gazed up at the stars that peeked through the canopy of trees and then he heard it. A weak cry. No, more like a whimper. Had a small animal been injured? He tilted his head, trying to discern where the sound came from when he realized it was coming from inside the cabin. He hurried inside and grabbed the flashlight from the kitchen counter, scanning the room with its beam. As the light landed on Sam, he saw his son thrashing around on the bed, moaning and muttering in the throes of a nightmare.

"Sam!" Mac whispered loudly, grabbing the young man by his shoulders. "Sam, wake up! It's okay!"

Sam bolted upright, almost knocking MacGyver square in the jaw. He was sweating and trembling at the same time. His eyes held fear and another emotion Mac could not name.

"It was just a dream," Mac said soothingly. "Just a bad dream."

Sam nodded, finally free from the images that had disturbed him. He wordlessly slid off the bed and went to the bathroom for a drink of water.

"Do you have these sorts of dreams a lot?" MacGyver asked when Sam returned.

Sam just shrugged.

"What are they about?"

Another shrug.

"Okay, I get it. But I'm here to listen if you wanna talk."

The days that followed blended into one another. MacGyver would awake in the middle of the night to find Sam either experiencing a nightmare or walking around the cabin trying to shake off the effects of one. To make up for the lack of sleep at night, Sam often took a long nap during the day. While Sam rested, MacGyver went for hikes, fished, and even drove into town to visit with his friends. He had longed to do these things with his son and was disappointed that Sam was unwilling to confide in him about the dreams that seemed to haunt him.

Early one morning, MacGyver stood on a rickety dock, soaking a fishing line in Bell Lake. He heard the creak of steps on the rotting planks and turned to find Sam approaching, rod and reel in hand.

"Glad you finally decided to join me," Mac offered as lightly as he could.

"I guess I've been kinda a party-pooper," Sam confessed.

"Nonsense. We came up here for some rest and relaxation, that's exactly what you've been doing."

Sam remained silent as he carefully baited his hook and then cast it into the water.

"I know you know about the nightmares," he said quietly. "Thanks for not getting on my case about them."

"No problem. I figured you talk about it when the time was right."

"I don't know if there will ever be a 'right' time, but I want to tell you about them anyway."

"Go on," Mac gently encouraged.

"Do you remember hearing about the terrorist truck bombing in Saudi Arabia back in June?"

"Yeah, the Khober Towers, right?" MacGyver remembered seeing the attack on the news.

"Right," Sam concurred. "I was there."

"What?!"

"The Khobar Towers housing complex and been turned into living quarters for the Coalition forces. It was June 25th and I had just returned from a two week assignment embedded with troops in the desert and fell asleep as soon as I hit my bed. It was a little after 10pm when a loud knock on my door woke me up. Someone kept hollering 'Get out! Get out!' When I opened the door there was chaos in the hallway. Everyone was fleeing their rooms and knocking on doors and yelling as they tried to escape to safety. It was like I got caught in a human tidal wave. We were on the eighth floor being directed to a stairwell. I was about halfway down when I missed a step and fell, wrenching my knee. Then it was like I was caught in a stampede. No one stopped to help me. They all wanted to get out. I could feel people stepping on and stumbling over my leg. I tried to get up but couldn't. All of a sudden there was a humongous explosion. It felt like the strongest earthquake ever only a hundred times worse. The people around me were thrown against the wall and down the stairs. Someone landed on me, pinning my leg. The building shook for what seemed like hours. I was sure it was gonna crash down on us and we were all gonna die."

Sam paused and MacGyver's heart ached for the trauma his son had experienced.

"Once everything had calmed down and we got outside, I couldn't believe my eyes. There was almost total destruction everywhere. To this day I can't find the words to describe it. I learned later that one of the reasons I survived was because the stairwell I was in was made of heavy marble and located on the side of the building furthest away from the truck bomb."

"What about your knee?" Mac asked around the lump that had formed in his throat.

"The medics on scene immobilized it and I was flown to a base in Germany with the other injured. It was torn up pretty bad and required surgery. Then I was put in physical therapy."

"It hasn't been that long. Are you done with therapy already?"

Sam stayed silent, gazing across the lake.

"Sam?"

"My knee stopped getting better. I got frustrated, checked myself out and came home."

"It's only been a little over a month! You can't expect to bounce back from major knee surgery in a few weeks!" MacGyver scolded.

"The doctors and therapists can't guarantee that I'll regain full use of the knee again, so what's the point. It's just wasting my time and energy."

"So you decided you'd just come home, camp out on my couch and feel sorry for yourself?!"

"I just need some time to think and figure out what to do next," Sam retorted.

MacGyver jammed his fingers through his hair and sighed. He had been in a similar position not that long ago.

"Hey," he said softly. "I didn't mean to come down on you like that. Take all the time you need, and remember I'm here for you."

"I know that, Dad. And thanks."

The day before they were due to leave, Sam accompanied his dad into town where they met a childhood friend of MacGyver's for lunch. Midway through, Sam politely excused himself saying he had some phone calls to make.

"You never managed to settle down with a woman yet you still got yourself a son," Mac's friend shook his head and snickered.

"It's not funny, Neil," MacGyver said flatly.

"Of course it's not," his friend turned serious. "What was it like learning you had a son you didn't know about?"

Mac sighed. "It was pretty weird, actually. At first I wondered if he was even really mine, but he showed me all the proof I needed. We've formed a pretty solid relationship over the past few years."

"That's really great, man. I'm happy for you both. But don't you sometimes wonder what it would have been like if you had been there while he was growing up?"

"Of course I wonder! I felt guilty about it for a long time, too. Then I realized you can't go back so now I'm focused on being there for him in the future."

The conversation ceased when Sam returned to the table. Soon the three men were discussing what was on the mind of every Minnesotan: The upcoming hockey season.

The following day, MacGyver grumbled about Sunday afternoon traffic as he pulled the Jeep to a standstill yet again on the outskirts of Minneapolis. This trip was already taking longer than he anticipated due to the fact that he purposely stopped every hour or so to allow Sam to walk around and keep his knee from getting too stiff. He heaved a sigh of relief as the cars ahead of him began to creep forward.

"Dad, I've been thinking," Sam said from the passenger seat.

"Uh oh," Mac teased.

"I'm serious! Remember when I made those phone calls yesterday?"

"At the diner? Sure."

"Well, my first call was to my editor. He's still holding my job and even has some stories for me to work on that I could do from the office."

"Are you okay with that?"

"For now. That's why my second call was to my physical therapist. She referred me to a therapist in London and will be sending over my records. With a lot of hard work and determination I think I can get back in the field."

"That's great, Sam!"

"I also made another call," Sam said sheepishly.

Mac glanced at his son. "Go on."

"I booked a nonstop flight to Heathrow early tomorrow morning."

MacGyver raised his hands and brought them down hard on the steering wheel.

"Why do you always do this!? Make decisions and run off without warning!"

This time when Mac looked at his son, he found an impish grin on Sam's face.

"I know! I know! I was the exact same way when I was your age. And your mother probably was too," Mac huffed.

"So, does that mean you'll give me a ride to the airport?" Sam smiled good-naturedly.

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It was late evening by the time MacGyver and Sam finally staggered through the door of the townhouse. A lamp in the corner cast a warm glow as Frog snoozed under the coffee table.

"Home at last!" MacGyver proclaimed as he tossed his bag on the couch. He headed to the fridge for some juice and that's when his eye caught the blinking light on his answering machine. He hit the 'play' button.

"MacGyver, this is Leroy. I know you probably won't get this until late, but there have been new developments in the Crandell case. Pack up yourself and your dog and meet me and Joanna at the safe house first thing Monday morning."