Disclaimer: MacGyver's ideas in this story have not been tested, and some probably have a better chance than others of working in real life. MacGyver and other recognizable characters are the property of Paramount; all original characters and story © 2023 FemaleChauvinist.
Do not post without permission. Do not copy/print without including the above disclaimer in its entirety.
A/N: This story takes place between Seasons 6 & 7 as far as events are concerned; the year may be different than it would have been on the show. Barbie
Pete stumbled slightly as his captors ordered him out of the car, trying desperately not to give away the fact that he could barely see; if they knew, the men would surely take advantage of his blindness. He cringed inwardly, expecting at any moment to run into something, but not daring even to put a hand in front of himself.
The next moment he felt MacGyver's hand on his back, and instantly relaxed. To their captors, the gesture would appear merely one of friendship, or perhaps solicitude toward an older colleague. But Pete felt the subtle pressure of MacGyver's fingers guiding him, and knew he no longer needed to fear anything in his path.
~ "Blind Faith"
Part One
Six Months Later
"Keep the change."
"Why, thank you, sir!"
Pete Thornton barely restrained a grimace, the taxi driver's exuberance telling him the bill he handed over hadn't been the ten he thought it. He considered himself a generous man, but like anyone he preferred his generosity to be intentional.
He groped for the handrail and started up the stairway to the building's entrance, stumbling a few times until his feet grew accustomed to the shallow steps.
He refused to carry a white cane. That would have been giving in, admitting that the surgery which was supposed to at least partially restore his sight had done nothing of the sort; that his vision had in fact deteriorated further since then.
Pete made it inside without incident, and from his memory of previous visits to this building, turned toward the reception counter.
"Yes; can I help you, sir?"
"I'm Pete Thornton; I'm here for a meeting with Gerald Krikava."
"Two flights up; down the hall on the left," she replied briskly. "I'm sorry, but the elevator's out of order today."
Pete barely heard her, his heart sinking at the thought of a long hallway of identical-looking doors.
The receptionist had gone back to her paperwork, but at his continued presence looked up at him over the top of her glasses. "Yes, Mr Thornton?"
"I'm sorry…but would it be possible to have someone show me up?" He chuckled self-deprecatingly. "I seem to have forgotten my glasses, and I'm helpless at reading name plates without them."
She gave a sharp sigh of impatience, but pressed a buzzer to call a young aide.
"Gavin, this man forgot his glasses," she told him, her tone indicating only the old and senile could make such an error. "Run him up to Mr Krikava's office, will you?"
Gavin snorted. "Sure," he agreed nearly sarcastically, grabbing Pete's arm. "Come on, 'Grampa.'"
Pete bridled at the disrespectful tone, but had no time to protest as he was hustled along faster than he was comfortable being led by almost anyone except MacGyver.
"Ow!" he protested as the edge of a doorframe clipped him.
"Whoops! Sorry 'bout that. Here's the stairs." Releasing Pete's arm, he half pushed him ahead of himself into the dim stairway, leaving Pete to search out the stairs himself and recognize he had come to the top only when the handrail ended.
Once more his arm was grabbed and he was propelled rapidly through the hallway. "Here we are, Gramps," Gavin announced, stopping in front of a door. Pete squinted at the nameplate, trying to determine if Gavin had indeed led him to the right place, but was unable to make out the letters with any certainty.
"Just go on in," Gavin told him.
"Thank you," Pete told him sarcastically, pushing the door open and taking great pleasure in shutting it in the young man's face. The whippersnapper was expecting a tip, he felt sure, though why he thought he deserved one was beyond Pete.
"May I help you, sir?"
He turned in the direction of the voice, making out the silhouette of a woman against the light of the window. "I'm Pete Thornton; Mr Krikava is expecting me."
"Of course; let me just tell him you're here."
Pete absently fingered the side of his face as she spoke with her boss, his cheekbone still throbbing faintly where he had struck the doorframe.
"He says you can go right on in," the secretary told him, a friendly smile evident in her voice.
"Thank you," Pete replied, crossing to the door she had just used and to his surprise laying his hand on the knob without groping. He pulled it open, nearly hitting himself in the face again as the hinges were on the opposite side to what he was expecting. "Hello?"
"Mr Thornton! Come on in; everyone else should be here shortly."
Not knowing whether the man who had stood to greet him planned to offer a handshake, Pete extended his hand first, forestalling the embarrassment of not seeing Krikava's.
His offered hand was met in a firm grip. "Have a seat here," Krikava invited, his hand shifting to Pete's arm as he pulled out the chair for him. Grateful that Krikava was a demonstrative person, Pete quickly found the back of the chair with his free hand and was able to sit without mishap.
He had memorized his presentation on the magnifying screen at Phoenix, the papers he spread in front of him only for show. By the end of the meeting he was satisfied that the committee would at least consider Phoenix's proposal.
Now his only concern was making it out of the building without being run into something again. He waited until the other members of the committee had left before turning to Gerald Krikava. "Mr Krikava, do you mind if I use your phone to call a taxi back to Phoenix?" He had ready an explanation of how his car was in the shop, but the man didn't question his need for a ride.
"Of course, of course!" he agreed, a friendly hand on Peter's shoulder unintentionally guiding him to the outer office.
"And…um…it's pretty hot outside; would it be an inconvenience if I waited up here?"
"Not at all, not at all; make yourself at home! Sheila, let Mr Thornton borrow your phone."
"Here you are, sir," the receptionist agreed brightly, passing him the receiver and pushing the base almost under his hand. She and Krikava were so obliging, Pete thought gratefully, they couldn't have been much more helpful if they had known he…had trouble seeing.
He didn't need to see to dial the number his fingers knew by rote; he could only hope his friend was actually in the houseboat today.
The phone rang three times, and Pete's heart sank as he felt sure it was about to ring the fourth time before MacGyver's answering machine picked up. He could try the car phone, he told himself, though that would only help if Mac had taken his jeep and was within hearing distance of it.
Then there was the welcome click of the receiver, followed by MacGyver's voice. "Hey. MacGyver here." He sounded slightly breathless, as if he had been on his way out and dashed back inside when the phone started ringing.
"Yes, I need a taxi at 10 Jefferson Boulevard; the office building."
"Pete?" He sounded slightly puzzled; he knew Pete's voice, of course, but the request must have made him wonder if it was someone else who had dialed a wrong number.
"Yes."
"Okay, I'll be right over," he promised, and Pete felt relief wash over him.
"I'm in Gerald Krikava's office on the second floor," he told him, dropping his voice so the secretary wouldn't question why he was giving the information to a taxi service, though he supposed he should be able to admit a friend was picking him up without embarrassment.
"Gotcha. See ya in about fifteen minutes."
The line went dead, and Pete hung up the phone, fumbling only slightly before it settled into the cradle.
Running a hand surreptitiously along the edge of the desk, he hitched himself up to half sit on the corner, feeling it would be safer than trying to find a chair, especially with his eyes still dazzled by the light from the window.
"Can I get you some water while you wait?" the secretary offered.
"No, thanks," Pete responded, despite the question making him realize that he was indeed thirsty. She might give the cup directly to him if he held out his hand for it, but then again she might not, and he didn't want to risk knocking it over.
Moments later the tapping of keys told him she had gone back to her work, and he let the repetitive sound soothe him as he waited for MacGyver.
oOo
A light knock on the open door broke into the sharper sound of the keystrokes, and MacGyver poked his head around the frame. "MacGyver's taxi service; someone call for a ride?"
Pete slid from the edge of the desk, starting confidently toward the sound of his voice in the assurance that MacGyver would stop him if he was about to run into anything. Halfway there, MacGyver met him with a hand on his shoulder, the gesture so natural no one watching would have guessed it was for guidance rather than mere friendship.
"Tell Mr Krikava thank you for letting me wait here," Pete said to the secretary, half turning toward her and deciding not to try to explain the unusual door-to-door service unless she asked.
Once again, the brightness of her smile was apparent in her voice as she spoke; likely she correctly assumed that the "taxi service" was a joke between friends. "I will, sir. Have a nice day — and you, too," she added to MacGyver.
He responded with a grin and a wink, waving briefly before ushering Pete smoothly out of the room.
"Thanks for coming," Pete said fervently, clutching MacGyver's arm a little tighter than was strictly necessary. "That kid who helped me up ran me right into the bottom of the stairs; I was afraid to let him try guiding me down! I think the doorjamb must have left a mark on my face!"
MacGyver glanced sideways at his friend. "Looks okay to me," he assured him. "Maybe a little red, but not so's you'd notice. Here's the stairs; handrail's on the left," he added quietly, releasing Pete's arm and stepping slightly in front of him as they entered the narrow stairwell.
"See, that's the thing about you!" Pete continued his rant, keeping one hand on MacGyver and the other on the railing. "It's as if you've been doing this all your life. You're always so aware of your surroundings, it's like you're alert enough for two people. Sometimes it seems like you're the only one I can really trust to guide me!"
MacGyver pressed his lips together, having his own thoughts on the matter, but didn't voice them here where he might be overheard.
"Here's the curb," he cautioned, pausing until Pete had stepped safely down before pulling open the passenger side door. "It's the Nomad, so watch your head."
Pete got into the car without incident, sinking into the seat with the relief one felt at arriving safely home at the end of a difficult day. MacGyver pushed the door shut and dashed around to the driver's seat, not embarrassing Pete by watching him fumble with the seatbelt or offering his aid for such a mundane task.
"All set?" he asked lightly when at last the latch clicked into place.
"Yeah," Pete answered.
"Where to?"
"Phoenix, I guess," Pete said with a slight dullness in his voice, feeling as if he was useless no matter where he went. Phoenix was only keeping him on out of courtesy, he was sure; after a decent amount of time they would find some excuse to let him go or "encourage" his retirement, and he didn't blame them.
MacGyver glanced sideways at his friend as he put the car in gear and pulled out into the traffic. "You okay, Pete?"
Pete's only response was a soft grunt, and MacGyver sighed. "Look, Pete. I'm not trying to excuse anyone for being less than helpful…but did you let them know you needed the help?"
"I…might have downplayed it a little," Pete admitted.
"That's what I thought," MacGyver said a little grimly. It wasn't really that he was the only one capable of guiding Pete; he was just the only one to whom Pete would admit he needed the help — or who could guess what he wasn't admitting.
"Have you been going to your therapy at the Center for the Blind?" MacGyver questioned.
Pete remained silent, confirming MacGyver's suspicions.
"Pete, you're still tryin' to convince everyone — includin' yourself — that there's no problem. You're tryin' ta make do with what sight ya have left — an' that means ya aren't learnin' ta compensate for the sight you're lost."
"And what do you know about it?" Pete flashed, suddenly unreasonably angry with his friend.
"Plenty," MacGyver returned. "I was blind myself once, ya know."
"Oh, yeah," Pete murmured, his anger leaving as he remembered that MacGyver in fact did know what he was dealing with. "When that girl was trying to kill you, and your eyes were burned in the explosion…"
"That's right," MacGyver agreed. "Totally blind, for a week. An' at the end of that time I could find my way around the houseboat if no one moved anything. An' even in other places, I was startin' ta be able ta sense where things were."
"Yeah, but you're…you," Pete insisted. "You've always had a sixth sense or something anyway. Besides, you might know what it's like to be blind, but you don't have any idea what it's like to know you'll always be blind and helpless!"
"To know it, no," MacGyver admitted, not debating the question of Pete's helplessness for the moment. "But to be afraid I would be? Yeah, I know. They didn't guarantee me my sight would come back, Pete; even if they had, you think it would have helped when I woke up at two in the morning, sure I would be blind forever?"
"You…never said anything," Pete whispered.
MacGyver half shrugged. "Guess I didn't want ya worryin' about me…or maybe I didn't want you to reassure me with promises you couldn't possibly keep. Look, Pete, if it had been permanent, I admit I might not have dealt with it any too well myself. But would you have just let me curl up in the houseboat, afraid to venture out for fear of running into something?"
"No," Pete realized.
"Then neither am I," MacGyver told him firmly.
"Okay," Pete gave in. "I'll go to the Center for the Blind — if you'll come with me."
"You got it," MacGyver agreed.
"Hey!" Pete protested, feeling as MacGyver made a u-turn. "I didn't mean right now!"
"Sure, an' give ya time to change your mind?" MacGyver teased. "We'll go now an' see what it's like, an' find out what time they want ya to come in."
Pete remained silent, leaning back against the seat and trying not to show how uncomfortable it made him to be completely at the mercy of a driver — even MacGyver — when he couldn't even see where he was being taken. After all, he had agreed, and MacGyver had been right; if their positions had been reversed, he likely would have done much the same thing.
Part Two coming next week!
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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