Disclaimer: I do not own MacGyver, somebody else does.

Pete bent over his desk. It was the day after the funeral. He had thought to find comfort in burying himself in his work, but it wasn't working.

Why, MacGyver, why? A car wreck of all things. MacGyver had survived through all manner of injuries and situations, to be killed by a simple accident. Pete buried his head in his hands. The next instant he jumped to his feet, alerted by his secretary's screams. Before he could move the door opened, and Pete sat back down in complete shock, his eyes widening to the size of saucers. There was his friend. He was covered in dirt and looked exhausted but he was definitely alive. Pete opened his mouth to say something but no words came.

MacGyver slumped down in a chair, and ran a hand through his hair. The motion caused clouds of dust to fly up. He then lifted his head and looked Pete straight in the eye. "Pete, do you know how hard it is to escape from a coffin that's six feet below?"