Chapter 58: Fallen Angel
MacGyver squeezed his eyes shut and massaged his pounding temples. The glare of the computer screen was giving him a headache. He couldn't believe it was time to balance the monthly budget...again. The light tap on his office door was a welcome interruption.
"Come in!" he called, a bit too enthusiastically.
Rosie Garcia opened the door just enough to poke her head in. "There's someone here to see you," she announced before quickly retreating.
Wondering who the guest could be, Mac rose from his chair and strode out of his office and into the recreation room where a gaggle of teenage girls, hormones raging, surrounded a tall, handsome man in a naval uniform. With black hair cropped close, stunning blue eyes, and a ready smile, he seemed to be enjoying the attention. As MacGyver made his way across the room, the group of girls parted as if he was Moses and they were the Red Sea.
"Can I help you?" Mac asked, stopping within an arm's length of the stranger who now aimed his smile at him.
"You don't remember me, do you, Mac?" the man asked, his grin widening to expose dimples...familiar dimples.
MacGyver thought hard, then his eyes lit on the military issue name tag the man wore proclaiming his surname to be 'Peters'.
"No way! Mitch Peters?!" The two men vigorously shook hands before Mac pulled Mitch into a one-arm hug. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?"
"I'm in town for the Fourth of July Air and Water Show down in Chicago. My dad said you left the Foundation and I should look you up if I was ever in the area."
Before MacGyver could reply, Joanna emerged from her office down the hallway, no doubt disturbed by the ruckus. "What's going on out here?" she asked.
Mac couldn't miss the megawatt smile Mitch directed towards Jo nor the sliver of jealousy that slid down his own spine at her appreciative gaze. He cleared his throat...loudly, as his arm snaked around her waist to pull her close to his side. "Mitch Peters, I'd like you to meet my fiancée, Joanna Fairfax. I worked on a couple of research and development projects with his father, George, when I was at Phoenix."
"It's nice to meet you, Mitch," Jo said, shaking his hand.
"Likewise ma'am. And my friends call me 'Titan'."
Joanna's confused gaze flitted between the two men, causing Mitch to blush ever so slightly before offering an explanation.
"I'm a naval aviator and my call sign is 'Titan' thanks to MacGyver here."
Mac's eyebrows shot up under his bangs in surprise. "Me? What'd I have to do with that?"
"Remember the watch you gave me for my junior high graduation?"
"Sure," MacGyver shrugged.
"Remember what it was made from?"
"Titanium," Mac suddenly recalled.
"Yep! I put it on that day and didn't take it off until I graduated flight school. I still carry it with me on missions as a sort of good luck charm, so the guys nicknamed me 'Titan'."
MacGyver chuckled before asking, "So what are you doing at the show in Chicago? Are you on some type of recruiting mission?"
"Not exactly. I'm one of the pilots for the Blue Angels flight demonstration squadron." This declaration caused teen girls and boys alike to once again gather around Mitch.
"Why are you here if the show's in Chicago?" a voice from the back of the group asked.
The pilot turned to stand in front of his admirers. "We flew into the 128th Refueling Wing at Mitchell Field and will be practicing over Lake Michigan off the Milwaukee shoreline because there's less commercial air traffic and it was easier to clear space for us," he explained, which only encouraged the kids to pepper him with more questions.
"Whoa, take it easy," Mac cautioned his charges.
Mitch chuckled and turned to address MacGyver. "Part of the Blue Angel's mission is to give presentations at schools and community groups. I'm not assigned to any this time around so I'd be happy to come back tomorrow and talk to the kids if it's okay with you."
"Sounds like a plan," Mac agreed.
XXXXX
True to his word, Mitch returned to Challengers the following morning and gave an insightful presentation about teamwork, military service, and the importance of following one's dreams.
"Can we come see the show?" a club member asked at the conclusion.
"I'd love for all of you to come, but I don't have enough tickets," the pilot said with a frown before showing off his trademark pearly-whites. "But if you come down to the lakefront tomorrow afternoon you can catch the full rehearsal."
A round of cheers went up and Mitch used the opportunity to step away and speak privately with MacGyver and Joanna.
"I hope you can use these on Saturday," he said as he surreptitiously produced two tickets to the air show from his pocket. "They're for the press section. I pulled a few strings to get you the best view."
Mac couldn't miss how Jo's eyes brightened as if she had just won the lottery and chuckled to himself. "We'll use 'em," he promised with a grin.
"Great!" Mitch exclaimed, before changing the subject. "Hey Mac, you did some flying back in the day, right?"
"I've been in the cockpit a few times," MacGyver replied modestly as he remembered the last time he piloted a fighter jet. Over ten years ago he had flown into Afghanistan to retrieve a downed U.S. satellite before the Soviets got to it and wound up getting shot and being cared for by a kind, young widow and her son.
"I've got some time before our next practice. How about you come with me and I'll take you up in the two-seater and show you some of our moves?"
This time it was Mac's eyes that shone. "Thanks! That's quite an offer." Belatedly he remembered Joanna standing next to him. "Can she come watch?" he asked.
Before the pilot could answer Jo replied, "Someone has to stay and finish up the reports for the month." Her voice dripped with sarcasm and MacGyver was about to rethink his response to Mitch when she suddenly smiled wide. "But you go ahead and have a good time," she encouraged, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.
"Have I told you how much I love you?" Mac whispered in her ear.
"Occasionally," she answered nonchalantly. "Just remember, you owe me one for this." With a wink and a grin, she turned away from the two men and headed back to her office. "Have fun!" she called.
A couple hours later, MacGyver tucked his Jeep behind Mitch's nondescript government-loaned sedan at the security entrance to the 128th Refueling Wing and followed close when the guard waved them through. They stopped on the tarmac, not far from where the iconic blue and gold F/A-18 Hornets stood as if at attention, ready to fly into action at a moment's notice, grabbed Mac's attention like a magnet.
"Aren't they somethin'?" Mitch asked as MacGyver gazed at the jets. "Hard to believe they can be outfitted to return to combat duty on an aircraft carrier in less than seventy-two hours, hey?"
"Yeah," Mac sighed in appreciation as one of the squadron's mechanics caught the pilot's eye.
"Hey Rusty! Find my friend here a G-suit, would ya?" Mitch called as he recaptured MacGyver's attention and the pair headed toward the hangar.
"That's alright, Rusty," Mac replied. "I'm good."
"But sir, the high levels of acceleration during some of the maneuvers creates a gravitational force that can cause blood to pool in your legs which can lead to loss of consciousness. The G-suit has air bladders, or pockets, if you will, that automatically inflate or deflate to keep your blood flowing properly," Rusty explained with a tinge of censor in his voice.
"Your pilots don't wear them because the inflated air bladders can interfere with the control stick and cause un-commanded aircraft movement, but they compensate by methodically tensing their lower extremity muscles and adjusting their breathing accordingly. I can do the same," MacGyver pointed out, causing Rusty's jaw to literally drop.
Mitch laughed. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you've been studying up on us."
Mac shrugged. "I know stuff," he replied casually.
Soon MacGyver, wearing an official Blue Angel flight uniform and helmet, was strapped into the rear cockpit of one of the prestigious jets.
"You ready to go?" Mitch asked through the intercom in his own helmet as he readied the plane for takeoff.
"You bet," Mac answered. "I just wish Jo could see this."
"Oh, she will," the pilot said mischievously.
"What'd ya mean?" MacGyver asked warily.
"Later today my teammate is taking up a local newscaster in this plane. Your cockpit's already been set up with cameras and recording equipment. I'm making a souvenir videotape for you!"
"Hey, that's great," Mac responded, trying to summon some enthusiasm as Mitch chuckled in his ear. As the plane's engine roared to life, he secured his oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. At the last moment, he also decided to lower the sun visor on his helmet. Although it was a mostly cloudy day, he didn't want Joanna to see his eyes roll back in his head if things didn't go as planned and he ended up passing out despite his determination not to.
"Here we go!" Mitch announced. "The barf bag's on your right if you need it."
"Thanks," Mac said flatly as he checked the security of his harness one last time. Seconds later, the pilot hit the throttle. MacGyver's head slammed backward into the seat as the jet rocketed skyward.
"So what do ya think?" Mitch asked after they had leveled off, the sleek machine slicing through the air.
"This is great!" Mac exclaimed, peering out the clear canopy at the gray, empty sky as a surge of adrenaline coursed through him.
"Just wait. That was nothin'!" the younger man laughed. "You ready to start pullin' some hard G's?"
"Ready as I'll ever be," MacGyver responded.
"When I count down from three, start doing those exercises I taught you and hang on!"
As Mitch called out 'zero', the aircraft accelerated into a hard right turn. Mac's body felt as if it weighed a ton and it took all his concentration to focus on his leg muscles and breathing. Just as his peripheral vision began to blur, the force working against his body subsided and his world returned to normal.
"You okay back there?"
"Couldn't be better!" MacGyver answered before mumbling, "I'm getting too old for this."
Later that afternoon, Mac returned to Challengers and was immediately surrounded by a swarm of inquisitive teenagers spewing a multitude of questions his way.
"I come bearing gifts," he announced as he held up his hands in a plea for silence.
Once the ruckus had died down, a voice in the back asked, "What did ya bring us?"
"This!" Mac declared, showing off a plastic lined paper bag. "My official, and definitely unused, barf bag!"
He smirked as a chorus of "ewwww's" echoed through his adoring crowd and Joanna, standing off to the side, dramatically rolled her eyes.
"Oh, and I also brought this," he casually said as he held up the videocassette that had captured the entire flight.
"Cool! Can we watch it right now?" a boy named Terrell asked.
"You bet!" MacGyver led the way to the TV and VCR set-up as everyone gathered around and settled on the floor in front of the screen. Taking the remote control in one hand, and Joanna's hand in the other, he guided her to a ragged couch where they sat and watched the film. Except for spontaneous "oooh's" and "ahhh's" the room was uncommonly quiet. Glancing at Jo, he found her eyes wide and glued to the television as if in a trance. One maneuver caused her to gasp and instinctively put a protective hand on his thigh. Warmth shot up his leg as he smiled and pulled her closer. The next, more complex maneuver had her nails digging into his flesh through his jeans.
"Hey, take it easy," he chuckled softly. Her head whipped around to meet his gaze and she grimaced as if just realizing what she had done.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "That's just so...wow!"
"I know," he concurred with a crooked grin.
Jo loosened herself from his grasp and turned to face him. "Be honest, did you really enjoy doing all that?"
A wide smile immediately blossomed on MacGyver's face. "Absolutely!"
XXXXX
The Fourth of July was sunny and warm. MacGyver grabbed Joanna's hand tightly as the two made their way along the crowded Chicago lakefront in anticipation of the day's activities which would be capped off by the Blue Angels performance. Dressed in navy shorts and a red and white striped tank top, Jo had slathered herself with sunblock that only served to enhance her signature coconut scent and this did not go unnoticed by Mac who longed to get some much-needed private time with his fiancée, but that would have to wait for a few more hours. He stopped short when Jo tugged on his arm.
"Isn't that Sam and Rebecca?" she asked, holding up her free hand to shade her eyes despite the sunglasses she wore.
MacGyver focused on the cordoned off press area they had been heading to. "That's them," he confirmed. "They're probably covering the event for the Tribune."
They continued on their way and, after showing their passes to a security guard, approached the young couple. Becca, whose head appeared to be on a swivel as she took in all the activity, was the first to see them. "Hey guys, over here!" she called, waving her hands in the air as Sam turned to see what all the commotion was about.
"What are you guys doin' here?" Sam asked with a smile as he put down his camera and hugged his father and then Joanna.
"The son of one of Mac's former colleagues is a Blue Angel pilot," Jo all but gushed. "He gave us press passes to the show."
Sam looked at his dad and raised his eyebrows.
"What she said," Mac grinned. "Are you and Becca covering this for the paper?"
"I am," Sam replied, turning his attention to his cameras. One was his old trusty thirty-five millimeter, the other was a larger, though still compact, video recorder. "I'm taking stills for the paper and getting some live action film for a local TV news station. They gave me an extra ticket, so I brought Becca."
"I never thought I'd say this, but for once it's nice to just take in all the action and not have to worry about writing up a story afterwards," the young reporter added, excitement in her voice. The comment was followed by the public address announcer asking everyone to take their seats as the show was about to begin.
MacGyver, Rebecca and Joanna sat together on the portable bleachers that had been set up for the occasion while Sam took his cameras and prowled back and forth, searching for the best shots of the performances taking place on the water, stage, and sky. Mac turned to gaze at Jo, the summer sunshine bringing out the golden highlights in her soft brown hair. She munched on popcorn as she watched a synchronized water ski team go through their routine. MacGyver thought back to another Fourth of July two years ago. He and Joanna had driven into the country and sat on a secluded hillside to watch fireworks from several locations around the city. Their budding romance was new and fragile. Mac's heart swelled with wonder and delight at the difference twenty-four months could make. He had decided weeks ago that tonight they would return to that spot on the hill and make some fireworks of their own. He couldn't help but chuckle as the old cliche skittered through his brain.
"What's so funny?" Jo asked, turning and capturing his gaze.
"Remember our first Independence Day together?"
"I do," Joanna frowned, her eyebrows coming together in a 'V'. "I don't remember anything humorous about it," she stated indignantly.
"There wasn't -"
"Unless you're thinking about how you thought Frank Colton was burglarizing your place when we got back from the fireworks and then he convinced you to adopt Frog," she smiled.
"If I recall correctly, Frank wasn't the only one lobbying on Frog's behalf," he said wryly.
Joanna playfully swatted his shoulder. "You know you love that dog. We should do something special when we get home tonight to celebrate the anniversary of him coming to live with you."
Mac summoned his crooked, sexy grin. "I was kinda hopin' you and I could-". He was abruptly cut off by the PA announcer as the Blue Angels were introduced and a round of thunderous applause drowned out every sound but those of the jets' screaming engines as they flew over the crowd.
MacGyver grabbed the binoculars he had brought and trained them on the six planes now flying in formation.
"Which one is Mitch?" Joanna asked above the noise.
"Number five," Mac answered, passing her the field glasses so she could locate the blue aircraft with the gold number '5' painted on its tail.
For the next thirty minutes the crowd, including Mac's small group, sat mesmerized by the intricate maneuvers performed by the pilots as Sam worked furiously to capture it all on both film and video. During one particularly impressive stunt, MacGyver glanced over at Jo, her eyes wide with awe and admiration. He leaned over and spoke in her ear.
"That's called the Diamond 360 maneuver. The wing tips are only eighteen inches apart," he informed her and smiled as she slowly nodded, her attention still fixated on the sky. She applauded along with the others as the planes broke formation to regroup for the next part of their routine.
When the six jets next came together, Mac's attention had strayed to his son and the events that had brought them to this moment. Lost in his reverie he didn't hear the collective gasp of the crowd, but he did feel Joanna grasp his bicep as if her life depended on it.
"What's happening, Mac?" she demanded. "Is that Mitch?"
He looked up to see one of the planes caught in a flat spin and quickly losing altitude as she shoved the binoculars into his hands. MacGyver quickly focused the glasses and trained them on the distressed jet. His heart sunk to his toes when he caught a glimpse of the number five on its tail. "Take it easy, Mitch. Get control. You've trained for this," Mac instructed under his breath as if the young pilot could hear him.
Now standing with the rest of the crowd, Joanna held on to him even tighter. "Why isn't he ejecting?" she asked, her voice laced with fear.
The space between the fighter jet and lake surface was rapidly decreasing and Mitch was still in the spin. "C'mon, kid, punch out," MacGyver pleaded in a choked whisper. Just when he was sure both plane and pilot were going to hit the water with deadly force, the canopy of the jet lifted and Mitch, still strapped into his seat, rocketed upward into the sky before the attached parachute opened and lowered his limp body to a not-so-gentle splash down a safe distance from where the jet had crashed into Lake Michigan.
After the initial shock of the accident, things happened rapidly. The Coast Guard, on hand for a performance of their own, immediately scrambled both air and watercraft and headed to the crash site as the public address announcer's booming voice commanded all observers to stay in their seats per emergency safety protocol until event officials could begin escorting the large crowd from the site. Joanna and Rebecca huddled together in horror while MacGyver scrambled down the bleachers and ran toward the staging area, Sam close on his heels, before they were met by a wall of security officers who instructed them to clear the area as emergency vehicles began to arrive.
XXXXX
Hours later, MacGyver sat helplessly on a worn couch in the waiting room of Chicago's elite trauma center. Joanna curled up next to him, her head resting on his shoulder as they held hands, each giving and receiving comfort from the other. From outside, he heard the muffled boom of exploding fireworks. Fireworks he had planned to be part of a romantic evening with Jo, but now they only reminded him of the sickening thud of Mitch's jet hitting the water. His musings were interrupted as a middle-aged man wearing a disheveled suit and tie entered the room. Wild eyes set in a haggard face lit on Mac. "Where's my boy, MacGyver? What are the doctor's saying?" he demanded.
Mac rose slowly, pulling Joanna up with him, and shook his head. "He's still in surgery for internal bleeding and other injuries. That's all they'll tell me."
"I figured as much, but I was hoping for more," the man sighed.
MacGyver felt Jo squeeze his hand and belatedly remembered his manners. "George, this is my fiancée, Joanna Fairfax. Jo, this is Mitch's dad, George Peters."
"It's nice to meet you," Joanna said with a small smile as the two shook hands. "I wish it could be under better circumstances."
Any further conversation was quickly aborted as a surgeon, still in his scrubs, entered the waiting area. "You're here for Mitchell Peters?" he asked the trio.
Mac and Jo nodded while George introduced himself. "How is he, doc?" the elder man asked.
"Quite honestly, he's lucky to be alive," the surgeon said. "We were able to stop the bleeding, but he also has a broken ankle, dislocated shoulder, a few cracked ribs and a concussion. Amazingly, he's holding his own. You've got one tough kid, there."
"When can I see him?" Mr. Peters asked.
"He'll be in recovery for a couple hours before we move him to ICU for observation. He'll sleep through the night if not longer. If all goes well, you should be able to see him around noon tomorrow. In the meantime, I suggest you get some rest yourselves."
"I suppose the good doctor is right," George conceded reluctantly.
"Do you need a ride or a place to stay?" MacGyver asked his former colleague.
"I reserved a hotel room and rented a car at the airport. You don't need to worry about me."
"Okay, then, we'll drive home to Milwaukee, but I'll come back down tomorrow to check on Mitch," Mac told him.
Late the following morning, MacGyver made his way to the intensive care unit where a nurse escorted him to Mitch's room with a warning not to stay too long. Not surprisingly, Mr. Peters was already there, seated in a straight-backed chair next to his son's bed. With a cast on his leg, an arm in a sling, bruises on his face, and wires and tubes leading to various IV's and monitors, the injured pilot's head was slightly raised so he could see his visitors.
"How ya doin'?" Mac asked, trying to sound cheerful as he entered the room.
"Like I hit the deck of a carrier doin' Mach 1," Mitch groaned.
"Well, you're not too far off," MacGyver teased and was rewarded with a small grin.
"I'm glad you're here, Mac," George said. "I have a favor to ask of you."
"Oh, Dad," Mitch muttered.
"Sure, whatever you need," MacGyver agreed, glancing between his two friends.
George got up from his chair and straightened to his full height. Even now, after all these years, he could be a formidable man. "I called in some favors this morning and got you clearance to take a look at Mitch's plane. Well, what's left of it, anyway."
"Daaad," Mitch protested hoarsely, but was summarily ignored.
Despite the growing tension in the room Mac asked, "What, exactly, am I looking for?"
"The cause of the crash, of course!" George replied, his frustration mounting.
"Doesn't the Navy usually handle the investigation?"
"Yes, and I heard rumors that preliminary reports cite pilot error as the cause. My son is one of the top fighter pilots in the United States Navy and I will not have anyone, much less our government, besmirch the Peters' name. You were the best agent at Phoenix, if they missed something, you'll find it!"
"But Dad, it was my fault," Mitch insisted weakly from his bed.
"That's nonsense! You're an excellent pilot!" George protested.
"Hold on, you two," MacGyver intervened. "Mitch, why don't you tell me exactly what happened up there yesterday?"
The young man averted his eyes and when he spoke, his voice cracked. "I made a rookie mistake and got caught in the jet wash of the plane in front of me. I might have blacked out for a second, I don't know, but I couldn't pull myself out of the spin."
"Oh poppycock!" his father retorted. "There's no way you could make such a basic error and I'm sure you did everything you could to save the plane. There has to be some other explanation!"
"Okay, just knock it off!" Mac instructed. "I'll go poke around and see if anything got overlooked."
On his way to the airport, MacGyver pulled out his cell phone and called his own son.
"Hey Dad, what's up?" Sam asked.
"Do you still have the video you took of the air show?"
"Yeah, I made a copy before I sent it over to the television station."
"Good. Can you get a hold of tapes from other Blue Angels performances within the past couple months?"
"I guess. What's going on?"
Mac sighed. "Mr. Peters wants me to determine the cause of Mitch's crash. More specifically, he wants me to rule out pilot error. I'm headed over to look at the wreckage now, but if you could take a look at the videos I'd really appreciate it."
"Sure, no problem," Sam agreed. "But what am I looking for?"
MacGyver recalled saying those same exact words less than an hour earlier. "I don't know but focus on Mitch. Compare his performance from yesterday to previous ones. Look for something that doesn't seem right. Stuff like that."
"I'll give it a shot!" Sam promised.
XXXXX
MacGyver stood and stretched out his long frame as he scrubbed his tired eyes with the heels of his hands. He didn't know how long he had been crouched on the hangar floor meticulously examining every remaining piece of Mitch's jet under high intensity lights in the otherwise dark interior, but he knew it was time for a break. And he still hadn't found anything to indicate the cause was something other than pilot error, just as Mitch had insisted.
"Who's there?" a vaguely familiar voice called, the sound echoing through the steel and concrete structure.
"Rusty? It's me, MacGyver. Mitch Peter's friend."
The mechanic threw the main light switch, squinting against the sudden brightness. "What are you doing here?" he asked accusingly, advancing towards Mac. "This hangar is off limits except to government personnel."
"Yeah, I know. Mitch's dad pulled some strings to get me clearance. I'm just tryin' to find anything that might have caused the accident."
"Well, you won't find anything wrong with the plane. I know these jets like the back of my own hand and I personally did the pre-flight check on this one. If one bolt had been crooked I wouldn't have let it fly. The cause of the accident is laying in a hospital bed."
"You sure about that?" MacGyver challenged.
"Hey, look man, Mitch is one of my best friends, but he made a mistake yesterday. Every pilot does at one time or another, usually more than once." Rusty stopped and shrugged, "Actually, I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner given the way he's been-"
"What, Rusty?" Mac demanded. "How's he been?"
The mechanic sighed and stared at the floor. "He's been hot-doggin' during practice and even logging extra flight time. He pushes the plane, and himself, to the limit. The team's commanding officer has even called him on it a few times, but he keeps at it."
"Was he always like that?"
Rusty paused a moment to think then shook his head. "Naw. He's always worked harder than any of the other pilots, but he's only gotten reckless recently."
"Thanks, I appreciate the info."
"No problem," the mechanic replied, pulling up his sleeve to look at his watch. "It's getting late. How about we both head out and you can get a fresh start in the morning?"
MacGyver didn't hear the suggestion because his attention was riveted on Rusty's timepiece. "Where'd you get that watch?" he asked.
"Mitch gave it to me yesterday morning. He said it was a 'thank you' for all my hard work and friendship. I know it's his good luck charm and I tried to give it back, told him he could buy me a steak dinner instead, but he insisted I keep it. Maybe if he had had it with him, he wouldn't have crashed."
"Yeah, maybe," Mac muttered as he and Rusty headed out of the building.
Even though the hour was late, MacGyver decided to return to the hospital to check on his friend and explain what he had found. Or, more precisely, what he hadn't found, but he couldn't get the mechanic's words out of his mind. Mitch had always been pretty fearless. You needed to be in order to do his job, but he had never been careless. And then there was the watch. His cell phone rang, interrupting his thoughts, and he quickly answered the call.
"Hey Dad, I think I found something! Can you come over and take a look?"
"I'm on my way!" MacGyver checked for nearby traffic before making a U-turn and heading for his son's apartment.
Sam was waiting by the door when Mac arrived. "C'mon, you gotta see this," he urged as MacGyver sank down into the worn sofa across from the television set where Sam now stood.
"This first video is the maneuver Mitch crashed on, but it's from a performance last month."
Mac watched carefully, honing in on Mitch's jet. He watched as it, being the last plane to join the formation, slid in smoothly behind the others.
"I don't see anything unusual," MacGyver commented.
Sam nodded. "There isn't anything unusual. That's the way he always sets up for this stunt." He paused to eject the current cassette and put in a new one. "Okay, this is the video I took of the same maneuver at the show yesterday."
Mac watched as Mitch guided his jet into the formation. Only this time, instead of approaching the leading plane head-on, he brought his own plane in at an odd angle. The jet immediately began to shutter.
"Turn it off," MacGyver commanded, not wanting to have to re-watch the coming spin and crash.
"I don't get it," Sam said, plopping down next to his dad. "Why did he change his approach? Do you think there was something wrong with the plane and he was having trouble handling it even before he got caught in the jet wash?"
"There was nothing wrong with the plane," Mac confirmed. "But I think I know why he changed his pattern."
Once again MacGyver headed back to the hospital. He needed to talk to Mitch...alone. He parked his Jeep in a shadowed corner of the lot. It was getting late and George would be leaving soon. It wasn't long before Mr. Peters walked through the sliding glass doors and headed to his car. Mac waited until the sedan's taillights were out of sight before getting out of his own vehicle. Once inside the hospital he headed directly to Mitch's room in ICU, ignoring the glares of the nurses who were obviously perturbed at his appearance after visiting hours.
"Mac, what are you doing here?" Mitch asked. "Did you find the cause of the crash?"
"Yeah, I did," MacGyver spat. "There was nothing wrong with the plane and there was no pilot error. Wanna tell me why you tried to kill yourself up there?"
Mac's glare was met with a look of resignation. "How did you figure it out?"
"Gee, where should I start?" Mac asked sarcastically. "Maybe it was the fact that I couldn't find anything mechanically wrong with your jet. Or that Rusty told me you've been doin' a lot of reckless flyin' lately. Or maybe it's that you gave Rusty the watch you've been carrying with you since you were a kid! But ya know what really gave it away?"
Mitch remained silent, his eyes down.
"I looked at tapes of your performance. You changed your approach to that stunt yesterday to make sure you'd get caught in the jet wash and the whole thing would get swept under the carpet as one big accident. Only you couldn't go through with and decided to eject at the last second."
"You don't understand," the pilot mumbled, his face turned toward the window.
"Then make me understand," Mac pleaded, his tone gentle now.
Mitch was silent for several minutes before turning to face MacGyver. When he spoke, his voice was flat and his eyes appeared to be focused on something far away.
"I'm on my last tour with the Angels," he began. "After we wrap up this season's schedule I'm headed back to a carrier in the Persian Gulf. But I can't do it. I can't go back. I've seen too much suffering and destruction. Hell, I've caused a lot of it! And what do I get? A medal pinned on my chest and heart full of guilt and fear that never goes away."
"Have you talked to your dad about this?" Mac asked softly.
"My dad's the last person I'd talk to about this," Mitch grunted. "He thinks I'm perfect. He's always bragging about his son, the hot-shot pilot. You heard him earlier, he refused to accept the fact that I could have caused the crash. I can do no wrong in his eyes."
"He's just proud of you."
"Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep living up to his expectations? I have to work harder, fly better, and have more successful missions than anyone else and I just can't do it anymore. Being a part of the Angels has shown me the good side of humanity and that's what I wanna keep seein'. I don't want to go back to a life of war."
"You know you hafta tell him about all of this, right?"
Mitch nodded, tears streaming down his bruised cheeks.
"The sooner the better," Mac prodded.
"He'll be back first thing in the morning. I'll tell him then, before I lose my nerve."
"Good man," MacGyver said, clasping Mitch's uninjured shoulder.
"Could you do me a favor, Mac?"
"Anything."
"Be here when I tell him."
"Count on it."
XXXXX
MacGyver stretched out on his couch, his head resting comfortably in Joanna's lap as her slender fingers combed through his hair sending pleasant electrical currents through his body.
"It's just so hard to believe," she mused. "Mitch seemed so confident and care-free and happy. How did his dad take the news?"
"Surprisingly well," Mac said. "He was shocked, of course, and didn't realize the pressure he was puttin' on the kid, but he promised to support Mitch and be there for him no matter what. I guess it just proves that we really don't have any idea what a person is going through on the inside."
"What's gonna happen to Mitch now?" Jo asked.
"Once he's had some time to recuperate there'll be a psychological evaluation. My guess is the Navy will give him a medical discharge. After that, who knows."
"Mac, let's make a promise."
The soft, serious tone of Joanna's voice caused MacGyver to sit up. Turning towards her he noticed the sheen in her eyes. "Okay," he assured her, taking her hands into his.
"Let's promise to always talk about stuff that's bothering us and not hide our feelings from each other no matter what. I don't want either of us ending up like Mitch."
"You got it, baby," Mac vowed as his hands left hers only to cup her face and guide her lips to his.