Note: So, I have to admit, I feel badly for both Tony and Mac. They're both caught on opposite ends of this impossible situation. (Because it feels like forever since I posted the chapter where everyone gets patched up at the hospital, I'm just going to mention that the first question that haunts Mac here came from the doctor... and the irony is, Mac had no way of knowing Tony had overheard that, further piquing his curiosity...)

MacGyver rested his head carefully on the extra-firm pillow, avoiding the sore spot where Bishop had clunked him with her cast. A long, deep breath helped to relax his muscles, and he could feel himself start to wind down. As he usually did when preparing for sleep, he pictured himself in a peaceful setting. The forest he'd just visited came to mind. As he replayed the sounds of the breeze rustling the leaves, he could almost hear the bird song. One particular bird was flying closer, its voice growing louder as his dream grew deeper…

The bird's song changed from melodic singing to warning cries, ending up with a loud scream that sounded like his name. He tried to reach for the bird, but branches pulled at him, and a disproving voice at his elbow asked, "Is there something that you don't want us to find?" The bird again cried his name, her accent exotic and thicker with urgency. "Is there something that you don't want us to find?" the voice at his side asked again, and Ducky's voice filtered in to remind him, "Don't lie to Gibbs. Whatever you're holding back from him, you'd better have a very good reason." The forest he was in suddenly smelled hot, like sand and kerosene. He couldn't find the bird; she was lost in the swirling grit. He had to get her home, had to get her back to the nest… "Is there something that you don't want us to find?" the echo came again over the beat of rotor blades. "What is it you're not telling me, Mac?" Gibbs threw in, his voice dark with disapproval. He could hear it; the burst, the whistle, the wail of the little one left behind, and he couldn't let that happen. Feathers filled his fingers as he twisted to avoid what he knew was coming, but it hit him anyway. The dove called to him again from far away, calling to bring him back, her dark eyes pleading, "You cannot leave me now! There is still too much to do!" Fire burned across his belly, pushing him to his knees as the world went red. Sand and copper filled his mouth, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't… "What next? MacGyver, you must stay with me! What do I do next?" the dove demanded, pressing her wings down on him until he had to cry out. DiNozzo shook his head at him as he said, "We got Ziva… We lost two of them…" He wouldn't lose them, not this time! The cry of the dove and the roar of an explosion filled his ears, drowning out the other voices as the shockwave hit him…

MacGyver jerked awake, gasping for breath as his heart thudded rapidly in his chest. He scrubbed the back of his wrist over his forehead, surprised at how much moisture collected to drip down his arm. As his head dropped back into the pillow, he tried to pull in a deep breath, but it seemed to catch in his throat. He swallowed hard, tasting the grit of desert sand in the back of his throat and the coppery tang from biting his tongue until it bled.

"Easy, Mac, it's just a nightmare," he told himself. "It's over. It's all over." Even as he told himself that, he was amazed he could lie so blatantly to himself and almost believe it.

"You look like you need a cup of coffee," Gibbs mentioned as Mac stumbled into the kitchen the next morning.

"I've never been so tempted to have one," Mac admitted wearily. He waved away Gibbs' unspoken offer to pour him a slug from the pot sitting beside him on the table. "No, I'll stick with my orange juice and oatmeal, thank you."

"Rough night?"

Mac rolled a glance over to him, noting that the coffee pot was nearly empty and Gibbs had the mug resting against his left eyebrow as he hunched over the table. "You too?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Happens."

"With as many memories as we have? Yeah, you can say that again."

Gibbs' expression said that while he wasn't going to ask, Mac was more than welcomed to share.

"You first," Mac retorted.

A long, slow pull on the coffee mug pretty much indicated that wasn't going to happen.

"You know, there've been a couple of times I'd gotten hit so hard that I'd lost my memory," Mac mentioned, microwaving the oatmeal he took out of the refrigerator.

"Been there," Gibbs contributed. He waited until Mac had pulled up a chair before sliding a glance at him.

Mac stirred honey into the gloppy mess in his bowl. "There are times I don't think I'd mind that as much as I used to."

A wry snort and a short, "Yup!" were his only answers.

Note: If anyone knows anything about nightmares, it'd be Gibbs, right?