He was aware of pain before he was aware of anything else. MacGyver's whole body felt like he'd been thrown in front of a bus, picked up, thrown in front of another bus, dragged by a train, run over by a car, and finally dropped off a skyscraper.

But he remembered it had been two trees out for blood, a hill made only of unbreakable and solid things, and a fall from a cliff. His head throbbed in time with his heart – or at least that might be the rhythm. He slowly sighed, opening his eyes. He wasn't sure how long he stared at the gray stone wall draped with thick vines or the flickering light against the wall. Then he noticed the reliefs in the wall. They looked like Buddhism symbology, but he wasn't in…

He turned his head, staring at the room he was in. There were two chairs and a table that had been repaired many times. There was a line with clothes hanging over it bolted in a corner. A small fire in half a metal drum was at the cave's center. A metal bar was fixed over it for a hanging kettle and pot. At the side of the fire was a small Iranian girl. She couldn't be more than six or seven. She played with a dirty doll and a horse with three legs, murmuring to them in Farsi.

MacGyver moved to get up, and his aching body became the least painful thing. Pain erupted from his ankle up his leg and caused his foot to cramp. He cried out, curling to grab his ankle. That was an even worse mistake. The pain ripped his breath away when his fingers clasped his ankle. He let go, slamming both hands down beside him. He didn't notice he was on a mat only a few inches thick or covered by a worn blanket. He could only focus on the unbearable pain. Some tears escaped.

Something lay on his ankle, making it hurt worse. He grabbed at what was causing more pain, finding the little girl crouched beside him. She pushed his hands away like they were flies and continued to wrap his ankle in a wet rag.

"Stop," he told her. "It hurts. Don't touch it, kiddo."

She didn't listen. She finished and then crawled toward MacGyver's face. She pressed on his chest. He didn't want to lay back, but she was persistent. Yeah, he could probably push her away, but the pain. Oh, the pain! He was pretty sure he had either dislocated or broken his ankle.

He laid back, closing his eyes. He opened his eyes when a wet cloth began washing his face. The little girl was dutifully wetting his feverish face. It was soothing, and he relaxed.

"Thank you," he said.

"You're welcome," she answered.

He was surprised to hear English.

"You know English?"

"What is English?"

"The words you're talking now."

"Milad says I have to know it when I go to America. The other girls will speak it, and that's how I'll make friends."

"Who is Milad?" MacGyver asked.

"My brother."

That made MacGyver smile. "You and your brother are going to America?"

"He said yes."

"Are you excited about that?"

"I don't know." She paused, staring him in the eye. "He said I'll be able to play outside and, in the grass, but…"

He waited for the rest. She washed his face without finishing.

"But what?"

She sat back on her knees. "The pain is better, isn't it?"

He realized his ankle did feel better. "Yes."

"My brother brought the herbs from a woman that used to live in another tunnel." She looked toward the door of the room. "She died, but her daughter lives there. She learned about the herbs from her mother."

"You haven't seen the other woman?"

"No. I can't leave the cave unless Milad takes me. He said the tunnels are confusing and he doesn't want me to end up outside. It's not safe outside."

"Your brother told you that?"

"Yes. Milad gets really mad when I don't do what he tells me, so I have to stay here until we go to America."

MacGyver didn't say anything. He wasn't sure what 'really mad' looked like to this child, but Milad also wasn't wrong. People were dying outside, and it wasn't safe for a little girl.

"When you woke up, I was supposed to ask if you wanted food or water."

"Water, yes. I'm not hungry right now."

"Okay." She walked across the room and filled a cup of water from a bucket. She brought it back and knelt before handing it to him.

MacGyver drank the water, noticing the slight iodine taste. Someone had treated the water.

"More?" she asked.

"No. When will your brother be back?"

She shrugged. "He goes away for long times. He says they'd notice if he was gone too long, and he doesn't want the soldiers to know where we're all hidden, so he only comes when he knows I need food or water. He taught me how to cook and start a fire all by myself!"

"Who are all of you?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, but he said he'd come back soon because you're here now."

That didn't sound ominous! "I should probably leave before he gets back."

When MacGyver tried to get up, she pushed on his chest for him to lay back down. But she didn't have to prompt MacGyver. The world spun before he was even half way up. His body quickly remind him of all the things nature did to him and how he was an idiot to try to ignore nature's lesson - although he wasn't really sure what the lesson had been. He sank back on the mat and closed his eyes to stop the cave from swirling in a nauseating way.

The young girl wet the rag in a bowl of water near his head and gently patted his face. He closed his eyes. "Or maybe I'll wait until he gets back to help me stand up," MacGyver muttered.

Fast-passing nausea from the pain, agreed.

"He said you needed to stay because it's not safe outside for you either."

MacGyver nodded. He reached up and stopped her from patting his face. "Thank you. I'm good."

"Okay. I'm going to play." She got up and went back to her doll and broken horse.

He wanted to get up. He had a mission to complete.

The girl began humming as she played, lulling MacGyver's to take the world's best pain reliever - sleep.