Command Performance (S2E4): Episode Tag

Disclaimer:  I do not own either of the Mission: Impossible series or any of the characters therein.  I receive no compensation or any other tangible benefit from this story.  I am just a fan who enjoys taking the team out for an adventure every now and then.  🙂

*****

She was suffocating.

Something was pressing on her mouth and nose, making breathing impossible.

Desperately, she fought through the pressure.  If this was a dream - or, more accurately, a nightmare - then she had to force herself to wake up.

After much effort, she opened her eyes...and the suffocating pressure was suddenly gone.

She sat up in bed, holding her breath and listening for a moment for any sounds coming from the adjoining bedrooms of the spacious suite.  She heard none.  So it was safe to assume that she hadn't cried out in her sleep - or, at least, that her teammates hadn't heard her.  She let out her breath slowly, struggling to regain her composure.  But it was no use.

Though the constriction had dissipated, she could still feel his mouth on hers, and the smell of his stale aftershave still burned her nostrils.  She still felt...dirty.  The mission had ended the day before, and as soon as they'd checked into the suite she'd taken a long, hot shower.  But the soothing water had done little to wash away the memory of that moment.

Perhaps another shower would do the trick.

She looked through her clothing and selected a black pantsuit - more modest than she typically wore.  Then she gathered up her other essentials and opened her bedroom door gingerly.  It was still on the edge of daylight, and if her teammates were still asleep she did not want to disturb them.

She tiptoed toward the common bathroom and reached for the door, when it suddenly opened.  She sucked in her breath, mildly startled, as did the man on the other side of the door.

"Nicholas!"  she gasped.

"Shannon!"  he returned.

"You startled me."

"Sorry," he apologized, as he emerged from the bathroom, clad only in a white bath towel wrapped around his waist.  Shannon glanced at his scanty wardrobe, and they both blushed slightly.

"I didn't think anyone else was up yet," Nicholas added.

"Neither did I," Shannon replied softly.  She smiled as she walked past her friend and into the bathroom.  She started to close the door, but Nicholas was still standing there.

"I was just about to put on some tea," he said, a bit nervously.  "When you're finished, would you join me?"

Shannon's smile widened a little.  "I'd love to," she answered.

Then Nicholas left her to it, dressed, and went to the kitchen.

*******

A few moments later, Shannon emerged from the shower.  As before, the water had done little to wash away the memories from two days ago, but she was hopeful that a little tea and conversation with her good friend would help calm her nerves.

By the time she dressed and got to the kitchen, the tea was done and Nicholas, knowing how she liked it, had already prepared a cup for her.  She smiled at him again as she took hold of the handle and took a sip.

"That hits the spot," she complimented.

But Nicholas did not return her smile.  His expression was serious.

"I want to show you something," he said, his voice barely audible, as she took a seat next to him at the kitchen table.  He reached into the seat on the opposite side of him and grasped something red.  As he held the item up with both hands, Shannon recognized it as the red blouse she'd been wearing during her confrontation with Savitch.

Nicholas' pointed gaze settled for a moment on the front of Shannon's blouse, at the three missing buttons.  Then he looked back at Shannon, whose cheeks were faintly crimson.

"How did this happen?"  Nicholas whispered.

Shannon looked down at her teacup, not meeting Nicholas' eyes.  "I thought I threw that away," she said, matching his tone.  She'd never wanted to see the vile garment again.  Even if she mended it, she knew she could never again wear it without thinking of...him.  She'd shoved it to the bottom of the garbage can, thinking it was hidden. 

Apparently it wasn't hidden well enough.

"Shannon, look at me," Nicholas spoke again, reaching over to squeeze her hand to make sure she did so.  Finally, she lifted her eyes to meet his gaze.  "Did Savitch do this?"  he asked softly.

She didn't respond, but the look on her face confirmed his suspicion.  Fully aware of this, she averted her glance.

Nicholas reached over, touched Shannon's chin with his hand, and gently tilted her face toward him until his eyes met hers again.  He was afraid to ask the question, afraid of the answer.  But he had to know for sure.  "Did he hurt you?"

"No," Shannon finally whispered, after a tense and lengthy silence.  "That," she added, nodding toward the damaged blouse, "was his way of saying that he found me attractive."

Nicholas humphed in disgust, and Shannon shrugged, suddenly feeling defensive.

"It wasn't a big deal, Nicholas.  It shouldn't have even bothered me.  If I hadn't..."  Shannon's voice trailed off for a moment as she searched for the right phrase.  "...gotten his attention, we couldn't have gotten you into the tower, or planted the fake cross for him to find.  It was all part of the plan from the beginning, and the whole reason I dressed that way."

Nicholas continued to look at her, unfazed by her justification.

"It's a technique we've used more than once on a mission," she insisted.

"Maybe," he conceded, an edginess to his voice, "but Savitch crossed a line that hadn't been crossed before."

You don't know how right you are, Shannon thought, and she couldn't hold his gaze any longer.  She looked down at her teacup and said nothing, but her gesture spoke volumes.

"Shannon."  Nicholas reached for her hand again, quietly grasping it until she looked up at him.  "What else happened?"  he questioned carefully.  "Did he touch you?"

Shannon sighed.  Nicholas certainly was perceptive.  And he wasn't going to let this go.

"He slapped me, once," she answered quietly.  "I guess he didn't like the way I answered his questions."

Nicholas' eyes flashed fire.  "The bastard," he said angrily.  "I hope you returned the favor."

"I did," Shannon replied smugly.  "I slapped the hell out of him when he...." 

She stopped abruptly.  She'd all but let the rest slip out.  She cursed to herself and her mind raced frantically for an alternate response. She hoped Nicholas wouldn't pick up on the part of her answer she'd left hanging.

But this was Nicholas, after all.

“When he what?"  he demanded instantly, his voice pleading but still gentle.  His tea all but forgotten now, he took both of her hands with both of his and searched her eyes with his own.  "Shannon, what are you not telling me?  What did Savitch do to you?"

Shannon sighed, but said nothing at first.

"Tell me," he urged again.  "I know this is bothering you.  I just want to help."

There was a lengthy silence before she finally replied.

"He kissed me," Shannon whispered, expelling the words forcefully from her lips in disgust.  "One hard, suffocating, unwelcome kiss."

In that moment, Shannon felt a jumble of emotions:  disgust at what had occurred, guilt that she hadn't been able to just let it go, relief that someone finally knew, and fear of what his reaction would be.

Nicholas' feelings were also confused.  He was shocked by the boundary that Savitch had crossed, while still grateful that it hadn't been worse.  His heart ached in sympathy for his friend, while at the same time rage was lurking just beneath the surface.

But Nicholas made a conscious effort to stuff his anger away.  Shannon didn't need to see that now.  She needed him.

"Oh, Shannon," he said aloud, squeezing her hands even harder.  He started to add an apology, but didn't, cringing internally at how flippant the words sounded in his head.  "Does Jim know?" he asked instead, struggling to keep his voice calm.

Shannon shook her head.  "You're the only one I've told," she answered, and suddenly the tears that she'd struggled to keep in check for two days welled up in her eyes and threatened to spill out of her.

Nicholas longed to comfort her, to pull her close, but he hesitated.  They'd been friends for a long time, and he was sure she knew he'd never hurt her. But she'd already endured one man's unwelcome touch.  He wasn't about to impose.

Shannon hastily wiped her tears with the palms of her hands.  "I'm a baby," she said dismissively, her voice reflecting her embarrassment.  "I'm making a big deal out of nothing."

"You're not," Nicholas disagreed softly.  "A little harmless flirting is one thing.  But you didn't ask for that."

"Sometimes, when it's quiet, or when I first wake up, I can still feel his mouth on me.  Smothering me," she added quietly, spurred on by Nicholas' empathic response.

Nicholas' stomach lurched, and he stood to his feet.  "Shannon," he said softly.  "It's okay.  I'm here."

Shannon looked up at her teammate, reading his body language, and suddenly she understood.  In that moment, her heart surged with fresh gratitude - and respect - for her friend, and she flew into his arms.

"Oh, Nicholas."

He wrapped his arms around her as she began to sob, finally allowing the feelings she'd held inside for two days to escape.  He whispered soothingly to her and rocked her gently until her body stopped shaking.  When he felt her pull away, he loosened his hold and she looked deeply into his soft brown eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Nicholas smiled at her, but his face was still somber.  "Shannon," he answered softly, "in a few hours we will be on a plane headed back to San Francisco, and we'll be leaving this mission behind us forever.  But forgetting what you've been through won't be so easy.  In those moments when it gets to be too much, don't be afraid to come find me, okay?"

Shannon bit her lip and nodded wordlessly.  His concern and understanding touched her deeply, and she was afraid to speak, for fear that the tears would come spilling out again.

Nicholas reached up to brush a stray wisp of hair from her face.  "I wish I could promise that something like this wouldn't happen to you again."

"I know you can't," she replied, finally finding her voice.  "But thank you for being there."

"I'll always be here, Shannon," he smiled.

Suddenly, Shannon remembered that she and Nicholas were not alone in the suite, and absently she wondered why her other teammates hadn't emerged from their rooms just yet as she realized that the sun had finally peeked over top of the horizon.

"The others will be up soon," she said hastily.  "I'd better go put myself back together."

"Are you all right?"  Nicholas asked anxiously.

"I'll be fine now," she smiled.  "Thank you again."

Shannon reached over to give his hand a final squeeze, and then dashed off to the bathroom.  As soon as Nicholas heard the door close, he slid his communicator out of its hiding place and pressed a button.

"Jim."

"Is everything all right, Nicholas?" came the instant response.

"Yes, I think she'll be okay now," the dark-haired agent answered.  "She had some things to work through."

"I could tell that something was bothering her," Jim mused, "and I knew that if anyone could help her through it, it was you.  I appreciate you talking to her.  We'll be out in a moment."

"I'll put the coffee on and start breakfast," Nicholas smiled, looking forward to returning home with his four friends.

The End

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