Chapter Fourteen: Déjà Vu

Night lay still and quiet on the house. The kids all slept deeply and peacefully. Only MacGyver was restless, tossing and moaning in the grip of a dream.

He seemed to be once more at the site of the plane crash, with Ramone lying injured in the tent waiting for MacGyver to find a way to fly him out of there. But this time, he couldn't make the other kids get along enough to help, and was forced to waste precious time doing everything himself.

And as was the way of dreams, he found himself caught in a continually repeating loop.

He finished replacing the plane's shredded front wheel with a hollowed-out log for a ski and single-handedly shoved the plane into position, only to find that the trench he had dug and filled with mud for it to slide through was inexplicably dry and empty.

So once more he carried mud from the stream, hurrying, hurrying, driven on by the urgent need to make up the day he had lost idly waiting for rescue.

The trench once more filled with fresh mud, MacGyver turned to see the plane sitting on a shredded wheel, the log still unsplit, unhollowed. Despair gripped him at the endless futility, but he couldn't stop working, couldn't stop trying…

Then he was carrying Ramone to the plane with no knowledge of having at last succeeded in having everything done together; no memory of actually going in and lifting the boy or of carrying him from the tent. He was simply there, beside the plane, with Ramone in his arms.

But it had all taken far too long, and now it was too late. Even as he ducked under the wing, Ramone's head fell against MacGyver's shoulder, and he died in his arms.

And looking down, MacGyver saw to his horror that he had Dylan's face.

"No," he whispered hollowly. His face twisting in grief, he raised his head slowly to find that the other three kids had appeared and were standing in front of him, their faces hard and accusing. They were the three young gang members who had been with him and Ramone, and yet in some unaccountable way he knew they were also Derrick, Cindy, and Cassie.

As he stood frozen, unable to move, the boy who could have been either Luther or Derrick took a slow, menacing step forward, deliberately wrapping a spiked chain around his hand. "You killed my brother," he accused harshly. "Yer gonna die."

MacGyver opened his mouth, but found his voice made no noise. And if it had, what could he have said in his defense? He couldn't deny what he felt himself to be the truth.

But as all three closed in on him, he scrambled backward, trying desperately to think of some way to escape, hampered by the body he carried but unwilling to relinquish it.

That chain-wrapped fist was swinging toward his face now, looming larger than life in his vision as it descended in horrifying slow motion.

"No!" he cried out — and suddenly woke with a gasp, sitting up, panting, drenched in sweat and tangled in the sheets.

"A dream," he whispered hollowly, pushing his hair back from his face and trying to slow his racing heart. "It was only a dream."

At last with a groan MacGyver kicked himself free of the covers and got up, feeling his way across the hall to the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face, then drank from his cupped hand before sinking to sit on the edge of the tub with his face buried in his hands. *

He knew why he had had the dream, of course. After he had seen Ramone taken off to the hospital, he had been haunted by the fact that if the boy had died it would have been his fault. He had seen Ramone protecting his side as soon as they got off the plane; he should have insisted on checking him then. It was just luck that the day's delay hadn't cost Ramone his life, just as it had been luck today that he hadn't waited too long before going to help.

"Your fault, your fault, your fault," Luther's voice echoed through his mind…or was it Derrick's? The image of Dylan's dead face burned against his closed eyes and he jerked his head up, opening his eyes as wide as possible, letting the moonlit bathroom fill his vision and remind him that the other was only a dream.

But it remained taunting him, ready to haunt him again the instant he closed his eyes, and he knew he would never be able to get back to sleep unless he went to check on the boy.

He stole down the hall and soundlessly pushed open the door to the boys' room, grateful that Dylan's bunk was the lower one.

The boy's face appeared pale, but that, MacGyver knew, was merely an effect of the moonlight. Crouching beside the bed, he laid a light hand on Dylan's forehead. He had half feared it would be clammy and cool with impending shock, but the temperature felt normal to his touch; slightly warm from his blankets on a summer evening, of course, but not feverishly so.

He let his hand slide a little lower to the pulse point at Dylan's neck. A child's beat faster than an adult's, he knew, and the throbbing under his fingers was reassuringly normal; not rapid with pain or faint from low blood pressure.

Rocking back on his heels, he blew out his cheeks in a breath of relief. He's fine, Mac, he assured himself. Now go back to bed an' quit worryin'. But for a moment he remained unmoving, listening to the child's steady breathing and trying to let his peaceful features banish that other, haunting image from his mind.

At last he returned to bed, but it was some time before he slept.

Next chapter coming next week!

* Illustration for this scene can be found at

www . deviantart . com [slash] femalechauvinist [slash] art [slash] Shadows-of-Doubt-884975730

(The illustration links in the last chapter are now complete; sorry about that!)

I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know!

Please note that I have only minimal internet access, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. (But they are much appreciated, even if you're reading this story long after I originally post it!) If you have questions regarding my MacGyver alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. Thanks for your understanding! Barbie