#Valedictorian Is A Person Who Can Understand The Discussion At MIT You Are Not To Use This Word Until You Are A Robot

[gothamphantomgoat]

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

17. A Song About Simon

Word Count: 4369. I don’t think that there’s any triggers in here besides the fact that Grace is still in the institution (which will be maybe another chapter or two, depending on how writing goes), and her and Hazel’s issues from previous chapters. I just want to announce here, like I’ve already told fandom familiars... I do not hold any of you to trying to read this story or any story that I may write. I do appreciate if someone reads, but I also understand that everything is not for everybody, I’m not for everybody, and my work isn’t either. At no time do I feel entitled to your reading and nobody should feel pressured to try to read anything that I write. I will love to hear from y’all and know that you enjoy reading, but if you can’t or don’t, that is your right, Folks. This is an ugly story with ugly content and hard topics, but even if it wasn’t, you still wouldn’t have to read, review, or reblog. I just want to make that clear for those of you in my space. Thanks for your time.

Previous

Whenever she first arrived, she was scared to get the help that she knew she needed. She always thought about how her parents had shot down the idea of it whenever her old driver was concerned. How they seemed to feel like it would mean that the work that they put into her as parents would be ruined if she needed mental help. Then, she would think about her 16th birthday, when her mother said that maybe he was right… the way it felt like her mother was saying that at that moment, she knew that Grace was a waste. “You’ll regret it…” her voice echoed in Grace’s mind. “If only someone had warned you…” The last day that she saw her. 

Months had passed. Her parents didn’t even visit. Someone still controlled her social media. Because videos of her singing at the facility and captions insisting that she was getting the help she needed would show up. Grace didn’t know who was responsible for that, at the time, but all of the comments were disabled on all of her accounts. She didn’t want to imagine what people would have to say about her trying to recover.

Eventually, she warmed up to her doctor and the staff. She warmed up to her treatment, to the fact that she had to get better before anybody would let her go anywhere. Her goals became forgiving Simon, accepting responsibility for the things that she did and potentially reaching out to him to suggest that he try to get help as well. She knew that the first and last ones would be the hardest for her, so focusing more on self growth and accountability became her brand of help, at the moment. At least, she went through the motions.

Some days were better than others. Sometimes, she got onto the computer in the library and searched his name. He seemed like he was doing fine, in terminology, but he didn’t look great. That was a lie. He looked great. He was a little more muscular and his hair had grown out. He looked like maybe he had tattoos, though she couldn’t see what. But, he didn’t look happy. Good, she told herself. Even if she wondered in the back of her mind if that was an accurate observation, wishful thinking or unconditional love causing her to worry. Sometimes, she checked his social media pages to see what he was talking about. 

She watched him receive badges, be crowned prom king, be valedictorian, travel to go to MIT… He really seemed like nothing was bothering him. He had thrown her to the wolves and just smoothly carried on… She would always be mad all over again, that he didn’t even care. It wasn’t even everything that he did to her! It was… but more importantly, it was the fact that he was able to do it and live like it was nothing to him. 

But, that usually made for a very progressive therapy day, and a productive music session. She’d asked her caregiver about the posts on her social media. That was who she eventually found out was responsible for curating the content during her stay in here. “What about my rights?” Grace wondered. She had been creating a lot lately and whenever something got posted, she didn’t know the copyright status or anything legal pertaining to her very personal art! 

“Your team takes care of all of the details like that. I basically just post and properly word updates about your healing process and progress. Your team decides which posts to make public or private. (I always post them privately, and sometimes someone comes in later to make things public).”

“It just doesn’t seem fair. I’m being my most authentic self, trying to be my best self and things that I use to get there are now being subjected to my mother and her team of handlers for me.”

“I can’t speak on feelings about it, but as of right now, you are still a minor and still in our care. That means that your welfare and decisions are decided by your parents, who are your legal guardians and us, who you’re a ward of. Whenever you turn 18, if you are mentally capable enough, you will be able to have more control over that type of thing.”

“I’m 18 pretty soon! But… mentally capable… I mean… I feel like I’m mentally capable enough to discuss my legal rights to my art, but I don’t know if I’m capable of like… rejoining society…”

“Well, whenever you do turn 18, we’ll talk about how you’re feeling and assess what you’re capable of. In the meantime, you can always tell me if there’s something that you just want to keep for you, and I promise, I won’t post it. But, your music and the fact that you’re creating in here is inspiring a lot of young people struggling with mental illness and it is warming people up to you since the scandal that led to you being here.”

“I… don’t care about those people right now. I just… want to heal and create.” 

“Fair enough.”

Stingray Lyrics

You were burrowed in the sand.

I didn't know that you were there.

I reached out my hand, 

only to connect with someone…

But you weren't prepared for my touch.

You didn't know that I would never hurt you.

I dug in a little too much,

And in your startled state you made me regret it.

Like a stingray, you were so cute.

Just living life, just doing you.

But I had to reach for something else, I HAD to have you for myself and it stung me.

Getting too close to you really stung me.

She scribbled the words down, humming the melody. She wasn’t sure if Simon was out there somewhere being bothered to even think about her, but if he was, she wanted him to have to see or hear things about himself.

There wasn’t sheet music in here, but she could use her notebook and sort of guess where the lines would be. She had requested sheet music weeks ago! She was trying to teach Hazel how to read music, too. They usually were able to spend time together twice a week. Technically, they weren’t assigned to the same areas, but one of the caretakers would always make an exception and help them to see each other, because they just seemed to be really good for each other. Neither of them had any other friends there. 

They weren’t antisocial, but they just only really clicked with each other, and Hazel had not been thinking she was a turtle nearly as much since she met Grace, and Grace’s almost entire first year there had been monotonous and for the most part stagnant until she met Hazel. Hazel seemed to make her want to be better, want to move forward on something other than the pendulum of attacking herself and defending herself for things she did and didn’t do. Hazel helped her to really seem to grasp empathy. 

.

They were stretching, silently, getting ready for the dance lessons that Grace would give her near the playground, during activity time. Grace was really quiet, with Hazel was singing to herself. Suddenly, she wondered, “Grace, did either of your parents sing to you when you were a child?”

Grace scoffed and shook her head, “No. Neither of my parents did any of the TV parent stuff. My dad was a lawyer, politician, and ambassador. My mom was a high paid performer turned model turned socialite, the daughter of someone just like my father. Most of their parenting was instilling a certain image on me, or having a nanny take me away if I didn’t quite fit the bill in time enough for guests or appearances.”

“What’s ‘appearances?’”

“It’s like when you have to go somewhere just to be seen. For my dad’s job, there were political or business meet and greets, sometimes charity functions, auctions and stuff like that, and at times it was simply an extremely elegant dinner party or some dignitary’s kid’s birthday event. My last birthday party was…” She frowned, thinking about how that night ended. The beginning of the end in her mind. She looked at the charm bracelet that she had managed to still never take off, despite everything. 

“Was what?” Hazel wondered.

“Too much. It was too much. I’ve always lived pretty extravagantly, but I think whenever I leave here, I might like to get an isolated place and sort of just live there with maybe a pet or something. I’m never going to have guests over for dinner parties or house any ambassadors.”

“Can I come over?” Hazel wondered, timidly.

“Yes! Of course, if your parents let you…”

“I’m never gonna have parents.”

“Hazel!” Grace called. The younger girl just shrugged her shoulders. Grace sputtered air out of her lips and shrugged too. “Well, who needs them, anyway?” 

Hazel threw her a look. “I do, Grace. I need them. I’m 6.”

Grace frowned. “I know. I’m sorry. You’re right. I have a really bad habit of saying whatever I think is gonna make people I care about feel better. It's one of the things that I need to work on. Of course you need parents. Every child needs parents… which is why I’ve gotta believe that you’ll get some! And whenever you do, they’ll hopefully let us be friends. We have a very big age gap, so I don’t know how comfortable they’ll be with you just coming over.” Hazel looked like she was thinking about something as she stared ahead, but she was still standing, so Grace figured she wasn’t a turtle right now. “Ready to learn our new hip hop routine?” Now, she blinked and looked at Grace with enthusiasm, nodding vigorously.

.

Making time to put together figures was hard, but Simon had all of his figures with him whenever he moved from his family house shortly after the clash with the void. The fame that he had risen to over his scandalous book deal and all of the allegations against it had gotten him a very comfortable situation. He was wealthy, in his own right, and schools that he might have needed Mr. Monroe to get into previously were no longer something to be dangled in front of his face. He actually missed the Monroes. Mrs. Monroe less than her husband, but both of them. They really weren’t as bad as she made them out to be. He believed that much. But… they belonged to her. He could have them on his side for a while, but not after all of this. He hated not having Mr. Monroe to bounce things off of. He’d sacrificed a mentor to get rid of the void. 

He had tried not to pull them into it, but eventually, the narrative began that her parents were using him, as well. That he was something to taper their wild-child and as soon as he stood up for himself was financially cut off. Mr. Monroe had been very public about the fact that unfortunately, they knew nothing of their daughter’s extreme condition until she viciously attacked her mother. Simon would have paid money to see that cat-fight. Simon felt bad for them, having lost their daughter to the void, so he withdrew accusations of the crimes, though several of them couldn’t be taken back, as the victims wanted to sue personally. But, the Monroes fared fine, after all of the settlements or wins. Simon wondered whatever happened to the charm bracelet, but he pushed that from his mind. 

He still carried the name The Apex, though many companies used that or had it in their name, so he couldn’t trademark it, but the general of his Apex was that if you were tagging The Apex, Simon Says was also there.

He took his book opportunity as his big chance to move forward with his other works. They didn’t sell as well, but he could say at 17 that he was a bestselling author for Free From Grace, and that by 18, he had published several books from throughout his adolescence and had a huge trilogy deal that he intended to have released by the time he was 20. 

Senior year in high school was a blast. He was worshiped and kids who had only held allegiance to him via the void either came around or were fun to alienate as nulls. Shana rose to popularity and the two of them continued their banter, a little will they won’t they brewing, as far as he was concerned. She got rid of her weave and replaced them with braids for going natural. Apparently, she was going to be going to an HBCU and she wanted to finally wear her hair “the way it was intended,” when she got there. It made her look ever more like Grace to him, despite the fact that Grace had never worn braids, only locs, and the full out afro she had whenever she left. 

Maybe he was just weakening again… missing her… “Hey, Shana - we should attend the prom together,” he said, as they sat across from each other at their desks in the newsroom.

She looked up at him with only her eyes, not lifting her head from her work, but he could still see the disdain in her eyebrows. “For what reason would I ever even consider something like that?” 

He laughed and leaned back in his seat. “We’re the apex of the student body.” She groaned at the word that she was BEYOND sick of hearing. “You’re the most popular girl in school now, and while not my equal, the best of what we have. We both know that you and I will be class favorites and prom king and queen. Might as well make an entire thing out of it.”

She raised her head now and he was confused by her expression, because it was still clearly disdainful. “Simon. I don’t care if I was going to win a cash prize of a million dollars. I would never even so much as think about attending anything with you. Thanks for asking.” She shook her head in disbelief and continued working.

“Why not? Did you not hear the reasons this works out perfectly?”

“I heard the reasons that you think I’m a status symbol that for whatever reason would actually want to be seen with you. They weren’t reasons that I would overlook who you are as a person and how I feel about you as such to put on some sort of publicity show for a bunch of kids that I’m never going to see again, because if I ever come to a class reunion, it would be to see if Grace showed up and how she’s doing.”

“Nothing that you said makes any sense. Me as a person? I…”

“You’re a bad person,” she said. He laughed, then stopped. Oh, she’s serious? “Simon… I, along with the entire student body watched you destroy a girl that we knew you were once like this with.” She crossed her fingers. “We watched you lie on her, make her out to be worse than she was, and bring her so low that she’s in an institution!”

“You hated Grace, and now you’ve taken her place as the boss bitch.”

“Grace and I did not get along. We argued. We dissed each other. We competed. We hurt each other. We were mean and nasty to each other, and even I can see that what you did to her was fucked up.”

“You didn’t try to stop me.”

“That’s not my business. But what IS my business is the company I keep. It would never be somebody who would turn on even his day 1. Nobody even would have cared about you if it wasn’t for Grace and I still to this day think that you’re the one who shared that video of you two. Your lost and found again laptop story was always corny to me.”

“You seemed to get a kick out of it at the time.”

“Yeah, of humiliation! She got a kick out of it whenever my father was arrested for white collar crime! Fucking with each other was our dynamic! But you were supposed to be the girl’s friend, and you didn’t just fuck with her, you fucked her up. Everybody thinks it’s so funny? They’re only amused because they’re scared that you might fuck them up too. If you did it to her, there’s no telling what you’d do. You’ve got people thinking that the old rumors are true..” He furrowed his eyebrows and glared at her. The old rumors. That he killed his sister. They were true, but it was an accident. “In short, I don’t care about any of your reasons. You asked me to prom. I decline. End of discussion.”

“So… you don’t like me anymore because I stood up to Grace, something you did all of the time. We’re on the same side now!”

She stared at him and for a moment, he saw fear. That wasn’t something that Shana showed very much. She cleared her throat and wondered, “When… When did it ever cross your mind that I would EVER like you, Simon? You have been a jerk the entire time that I’ve known you. When Grace and I were rivals, you were disgusting to me. You’ve called me out of my name, tried to tear me down about my looks and my family. Where in the world would you ever get an idea that I could possibly like you, even as just a person that I know of?”

“Because of our banter…”

“Arguing.”

“All of the flirting…”

“Clearly happened in your mind, but did not happen in mine.”

“The way that you always blush whenever we talk! I know what it looks like when somebody your skin tone blushes. I knew Grace like the back of my hand.”

“And you tossed her in the trash like nothing. I don’t like you. I have never liked you, and I have never BLUSHED when we talk. What you should know, as the young genius that everybody tries to make you out to be, because this is science related, biology, if you will… Is that what you’re describing as blushing, is actually heat rushing to one’s face. My heartbeat accelerates, I may even sweat a little as I get hot and my blood rushes. That’s not because I have a crush on you. It’s because you are one of the most infuriating people to have a conversation with. Because in addition to being a rude jackass, you are a delusional egotist. Every conversation I have with you makes me want to punch you in the face. And I know that if I do, they’ll toss my ass out of here and that will mess up me following my mother’s footsteps as a Spelman College Delta Sigma Theta! You, Simon Laurent have never been worth anything to me, certainly not my future. I’m sorry for Grace that she didn’t know that, but my parents raised me with the utmost love and confidence. I don’t need anybody like you to upgrade me, and I love myself too much to even entertain you as a friend. And my father, who you love to try to weaponize against me, after serving his time is still worth at least five times as much as yours…”

Simon threw over things from her desk and she jumped. His eyes went wide. He surprised himself with that outburst. Shana was moved for a moment, when she thought he was about to attack her, but when he didn’t, she got up. “Please pick up this mess, Simon. I will not mind reporting you for it.” She left the newsroom for a breather. Simon rushed to pick everything up before anybody else came in and wondered what happened, but a lot of Shana’s words cut him for a moment. She’s lying. Girls lie, he reminded himself as he picked things up from the floor. But, he wasn’t going to beg her to go out with him. She declined. Okay, whatever. He’d have been doing her a favor.

Sometimes, he thought about her words, though. Blushing because she was infuriated by him… That made sense after a while, especially when he conflated her with the void, who he knew never loved him. He and Shana were prom king and queen, but she declined dancing with him and said on the microphone, “We all know this is Grace Monroe’s sloppy seconds.” There was an uproar of laughter in his mind. 

Actually, only a few people laughed. Some looked shocked and horrified that Shana would make fun of who they believed to be an abuse survivor. Shana shrugged her shoulders like Kanye and doubled down, “You all know good and well that Grace never harmed a split ended hair on this boy’s head! She was as obsessed with him as he was with her. You’re all wild to go along with that narrative. You would never believe all that mess about a white girl..” The dean snatched the microphone from her and gave her some warning that the other students couldn’t hear. Simon was livid. He waited for her outside.

“Shana,” he said. Shana yelped in fear whenever she saw him at her car, then reached into her clutch for a weapon. She didn’t have much, but she did have a nail file. Whenever he came near her, she stuck him in the neck with it and he groaned. She set off her car alarm trying to get inside of the car before deactivating it and Simon just smiled at her as she did. Shana was driving and crying and that was the last time that Simon saw her. 

He was questioned about assaulting her in the parking lot, but informed them that he only wanted to talk to her about what she had said in front of everyone and that she actually assaulted him. Now… once, people might believe, and people might even have believed that Shana was entirely capable of it. But, most of the kids and staff knew that Shana was a mean girl, but never violent. The only physical exchanges she had were the ones with Grace Monroe and now Simon Laurent. She finished out the end of school how Grace had finished her junior year. Simon finished it out with people beginning to doubt some of his stories about Grace. But, that didn’t matter! 

He hated that school, those rich kids, the system that worked for them but made him work for it. He was on his way to becoming better than all of that. He still wanted to make time for his art - writing, photography, creating figures and scenes… but he had gotten really into the robotics program whenever he was in engineering and decided that was what he was going to focus his education on. MIT was his first choice and he had been accepted by the end of junior year. He got his small living space as close as he could, since he prepared on spending the bulk of his time enrolled. He knew that he was destined for greatness. 

But, sometimes, his social media would think he needed to see something, like today, when he opened a video of Grace, playing a piano at wherever the undisclosed facility she had been at was, singing something captioned as “Stingray,” and looking… beautiful. He watched it more times than he would ever admit. 

He opened his own treasure chest and pulled out images of her, them… things that he had made and just didn’t have the strength to destroy when he purged the void. He picked up a photo from the pumpkin patch, when they were 14. She had her tongue stuck out at him and he was blushing. It was one of his favorite photos of them. 

“You should take every photo of me, from now on!” She said, looking at her ones on her page that had gotten her the deal. “You always seem to make me look my absolute best in every photo you take of me. Like, you have a real eye for it.”

“I have an eye for you,” he corrected. “Two…” He blushed a lot. He hadn’t meant to say THAT.

“You’ve got eyes for me, Simon?” she teased, making him blush more and his heart rate speed up. And in the midst of him trying to collect himself, she grabbed on to him, pulled him into a hug and took another of her many selfies. She groaned, “I just can’t make any photos look as good as you can… but you’re adorable in this,” she said and showed it to him. “I’m putting this on my Christmas cards this year.” 

She didn’t lie about that. He tossed it back into the box and picked up the torn out foreword that she had written for his fantasy novel. He went through the entire box before locking it back up and throwing it into the trunk of his car. One day, he was going to find the strength to throw it in a river or burn it, or something. It’s just that… she was his entire world… for half of his life…

“And you tossed her in the trash like nothing,” he heard Shana’s voice say… or was it Grace’s voice? He was starting to forget it. Like… of course he knew what it sounded like, but his head couldn’t place it in the chorus of girls’ voices that haunted him: his sister, his mother, the void, Shana… Shana was interchangeable with the void. His brain kept trying to tie them together and perhaps that was why her words affected him. Or maybe it was because they sounded so true, when he knew that they couldn’t be. The Void betrayed him. He counterattacked. “Getting too close to you really stung me.” He heard her singing. Simon bit his lip, picked up his phone and took a deep breath before liking the Stingray post.

Next

[writing-wolf]

The Day He Loved Red

Summary: Mac meets someone from his old high school. Turns out that's also his high school crush. Kinda. Yeah.

Words: 1,658.

Warning(s): Nah. It's maybe excessively fluffy, but uh, yeah, you know me.

Angus MacGyver was Blue. No, not in a melodramatic way. Mac was Blue. Just Blue. He was a refreshing cool spring day, the sloshing sound of water in a glass, and the feeling of piercing, icy eyes staring into your soul. 

Angus MacGyver hated red. The colour red symbolised pain, fire, and most of all, it resembled Nikki. It symbolised the thick cloud of lust and emotion he used to feel for her, the dark sheets they used to make love under. It symbolised the burning sensation of his breaking heart when she betrayed him. Red used to be the colour of love, now it only brought Mac pain. 

The first time MacGyver meets you is in high school. You’re red. A small, bright red streak in a world of dark greys and browns. Yet Mac, as naive as a young, scrawny boy can be (yes, apparently even people with an IQ over 140 can be naive, when presented with the appropriate dose of hormones and the lack of understanding of the opposite sex), barely spares you a second glance. He walks away from the beautifully unique, intelligent girl with her large glasses and her remarkably large forest of bright red hair. Mac goes on with his life. So do you. 

In the same year, both you and Mac graduate. Mac is 17, you are 16. You’re not a lot smarter than Mac, and probably not nearly as ‘creative’ when it comes to old metal scraps and machinery, but your intelligence leans more to the 'socially acceptable’ side of the wackiness that is the school system. Because while Mac is a 'homo universalis’, you assume his lack of interest in literature and theory explain why he graduates only a year earlier than the common student (not that you love theory, you’ve just been a little more subtle in your endeavours to obtain knowledge. Incinerating mopeds has never really fit in the school’s curriculum). 

While you’re giving your graduation speech, Mac can’t help but notice the way the wispy strands of your hair sway with the wind, like flames dancing in the dark night sky. With the confidence of a young, scrawny boy on hormones, Angus MacGyver represses this short moment of infatuation. It’s the last time he’ll see you anyway. 

Fate never works as one thinks it will, and in true fashion, you and Mac have the chance to meet again. This time, by the hands of Patricia Thornton (she swears your recruitment has nothing to do with your history with Mac, but fooling a not-so naive, not-so scrawny young man has proven to be a little trickier than necessary). When Jack and his younger partner arrive at the Phoenix Foundation a little more injured than usual, Patricia announces the need for a medical expert (because although Mac is a genius, he also has the annoying urge to protect everyone, but himself). Even though Mac tries to argue that his method of 'first aid’ works fine until they get to the hospital, both Patty and Riley are fed up with trying not to blow their cover after each mission. 

Mac reluctantly agrees. Reluctantly. Maybe less reluctantly after seeing your picture. Maybe, just maybe, his heart skips a beat. 

The following Monday, you seem to already be setting up your little doctor’s office when Mac arrives. He doesn’t say it, but you’ve definitely grown more beautiful, more red. One might even say you’re Red now. The youngest member of the Phoenix Foundation would agree. Yet, upon seeing you so Red, Mac’s afraid. It has barely been six months since Nikki’s betrayal, and hurt enters his barely healed heart again. 

It takes a moment for you to notice him standing in the doorway, and it takes another moment for you to recognise him as the lanky salutatorian. There’s no doubt Mac has grown to be really handsome, but you hope he still has those nerdy qualities that made him stand out in high school. You also hope Bozer’s still around (it was hard not to notice the bubbly persona standing next to your high school crush). 

It feels weird. You've missed years of each other's life, but one shy look in his eyes guarantees you that it's not going to be long before you're falling head over heels in love with him again.

“Hi, I'm Jamie. You're Angus MacGyver, right?” you ask, but it's only out of courtesy. Of course you remember Mac. He's the scrawny kid who incinerated a moped, and that's just something you can't forget. However, you're not sure he remembers you (but oh boy, does he).

“Yeah. Call me Mac though, never liked the name Angus. You're the valedictorian with the bright red hair?”

“I am,” you admit, smiling coyly. You're somehow glad he still remembers you. 

“Graduated at 16, five years at med school, worked in UCLA for four years?” 

“Nope, UCSF for three, UCLA for one. You graduated at 17, MIT for three—no two years, EOD for three, then DXS?” you shoot back.

“Yup. You looked into my file, didn't you?”

“No comment.”

Turns out, your services are very much required, to Mac's spite. During a particularly hectic mission, in which they have to improvise an operation on Ralph, the so-called accountant of an organisation named D-77, you're called in a hurry.

“Mac. Please tell me you're calling because you want to say hello, and not because there's currently an unconscious accountant lying in the trunk after he got shot?”

“I'm so sorry Doc, but we need you. Now.” 

A normal person in a normal situation would probably panic, but, since this isn't a normal situation, and you are, by all means, not just a normal person, you try to quickly compose yourself, before giving Mac the necessary instructions. 

Mac thanks you afterwards, when he gets back home. More specifically, with a hug (both of you will, if asked, deny that the hug lasts a little too long, that Mac's hand is a little too low on your back to be strictly platonic, and that the sexual tension is suffocating in such a small room).

For safety reasons, Bozer decides that, after finally obtaining Riley's entire phone number, Mac should have yours. Obviously, just in case something happens. 

Over the next couple of weeks, the both of you share cute anecdotes, discuss 'sciencey things (as Jack calls it)', and of course you ask him about his physical health after tough missions. Mac spends a lot more time talking to you, and although Jack tends to complain a little about him not living in the present, the older man is secretly a little happy to see Mac having a stable relationship with a woman again, after Nikki. 

Nikki however, in her glorious red glow, re-enters everyone's lives rather quickly. Only this time, she's one of the good guys again. As expected, Mac's inclined to believe Nikki, and give her a second chance. Jack shakes his head in disappointment when she returns; yes, he'd be happy for Mac in any other given situation, but this is Nikki. Even if she's working for the CIA, she's betrayed and confused his teammate more than he really needs to be confused and betrayed. He just hoped she'd be gone for longer than this.

Mac lets Nikki kiss him again, whilst patching up her wound. He really wants to believe her words, love her like he used to. He just can't. Not anymore. So he kisses her back, thinking that maybe, maybe, he can learn to love her shade of red again.

Nikki gets framed and arrested by Patricia, and for a brief moment, she looks back. She wants to scream at Mac, wants to tell him none of this is true. He'll figure it out on his own though, but she shivers at the look of betrayal in his eyes. Again. So when Patricia Thornton's lies are discovered, she smiles, almost laughs. No more lies.

She kisses Mac again, when it's all over. Her lust and the heat of the moment made her forget back then, but she feels it now. Through his kiss, she knows she's lost him. 

Nikki promises Mac that they'll take it one step at a time. They both know they won't. 

She steps out of the room and her eyes meet yours. As Nikki walks down the corridor, she pats your shoulder.

“He's all yours,” she murmurs, ignoring the slight blush on your cheeks. She's a fighter, but a fight against Eros is a fight long lost. 

It takes another two years, 78 missions, 1502 text messages and seven experimental dates (and by experimental, I mean experimenting in the love department, as well as blowing things up in the name of science, because, well, nerds), but you get there eventually. 

On the night of the fourth of January, 2018, you two lie on Mac's DIY self-heating mat, watching the meteor shower. Mac's arm is wrapped around you while you're cuddling, head on his chest. 

“You know, Nikki told me something, back when Thornton was arrested. She said: ‘He's all yours.’ I wonder if she knew that this would happen,” you say.

“I think everyone knew, at least before we did.”

“We're stupid, aren't we? We've known each other since high school, and yet we don't realise we love each other until we're both adults!” you laugh. Mac turns to look at you for a moment, before capturing the moment, and you, in a sweet, breathtaking kiss. His soft lips touch yours gently as he goes in for another one, and then another one. He moves slowly, as if you were the most fragile, precious thing in the entire world. As if you were his world. You are.

“What was that for?” you ask him, still panting slightly. Mac only smiles. Oh, how he loves the Red of your lips, your hair, your cheeks. Oh, how he loves you. 

“Making up for lost time, sweetheart.”

Aight people! 

It took me a while, but I finished it! I think MacGyver isn't the most popular TV show out there, but I like it. So, if you do read it, tell me what you think of it! Send me comments, asks, requests, shtuff...

Have a lovely day!

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