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. 🙂
*****
“Grant,” called Shannon, as she walked through the door of the studio that was serving as the team’s headquarters, “the expert called it the work of a genius. You must be the reincarnation of Degas.”
“Whoa,” replied Grant, “we’ve gotta give some credit to my simulator here. So, um, Travers went for it, eh?”
Jim propped the fabricated painting up against the simulator. “He went for it, all right,” he answered. “I’m certain he’d kill for it.”
“And it would be a shame to deny him the opportunity to get his hands on it,” grinned Shannon, having discussed the team’s next steps with Jim on their way back from the meeting.
Jim returned Shannon’s smile, then turned to the rest of his team. “So, we’re going to let him steal it.”
“And the tracking device in there will hopefully lead us right to Travers’ hidden gallery,” finished Grant, following Jim’s train of thought and realizing why the elder agent had asked him to plant the bug.
“Exactly,” answered Jim. “Grant, Max, you two will watch the studio. When Travers comes out with the painting, follow him. Nicholas, you’ll be at his hotel so you can see which way he goes when he gets there.”
“What about you and Shannon?” asked Nicholas, his brow furrowed, a hint of worry in his voice as he anticipated the answer.
“Well, somebody’s got to be here to welcome Daniel when he shows up.”
Shannon’s dismissiveness did not appease Nicholas, and the concern in his voice grew more pronounced as he turned toward his female teammate. “I’m not sure I like this,” he advised, his voice low, as the others looked on. “He’s going to try to kill you, you know.”
“I’ll be ready for him,” Shannon promised, as her eyes shifted from Nicholas to Max to Grant. She could tell that the latter two men were feeling the same way about the situation – especially since Max had already witnessed Travers pointing the knife at her – but they remained silent, allowing their dark-haired friend to give voice to their feelings. She returned her gaze to Nicholas, and his expression had become so troubled that she felt compelled to reach out and lay a hand on his forearm.
“Relax, Nicholas,” she smiled reassuringly. “I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself, you know,” she added, with a touch of defensiveness.
“I know you can,” the dark-haired agent conceded, his brown eyes piercing. “That doesn’t mean I won’t worry.”
Suddenly, Jim cleared his throat noisily, bringing an abrupt end to the heartfelt exchange, and glanced out the window. “You all had better get into your positions,” he cautioned. “It’ll be dark soon.”
*****
“Come in,” Shannon called in response to Jim’s knock at the bathroom door. He opened the door cautiously to find his teammate in the bathtub, immersed to her neck in bubbles. She grinned at him.
Jim smiled faintly; characteristically stoic, his face showed no outward signs of embarrassment, though he spoke rather haltingly. “I know that this is a rather compromising position,” he said apologetically.
“It’s okay, Jim,” she assured him. “It’s better if he thinks I’m defenseless.”
“I’m sure he’ll use the knife,” Jim reasoned. “He’s killed at least once with it, and of course you’ve already seen it for yourself.” The team leader gazed at his friend. “I trust you took all the necessary precautions?”
“I’m ready, Jim.”
Jim sighed. “All right.” He looked at his watch. “It should be just about showtime. I’ll be waiting just out of sight at the back entrance.” He looked at her one last time. Be careful, his eyes silently pleaded, as he closed the bathroom door behind him.
*****
Shannon’s keen hearing picked up a soft shuffling sound coming from outside the bathroom door, as Travers’ feet landed on the floor of the studio basement.
A twinge of nervousness rippled through her body; despite her tough exterior, she was more apprehensive than she dared to admit at the thought of seeing that knife again.
“Phillip?” she called out. “Is that you?” A moment passed. She could hear the intruder walking softly across the smooth floor. “Phillip?” she called again. “Are you there?”
Suddenly, the doorknob turned slowly, and the door opened. Shannon sucked in her breath sharply as a figure dressed all in black stepped inside. As she watched, the figure removed its mask.
“Daniel,” Shannon breathed, pretending to be surprised at his presence.
“I’m afraid the Degas is going to a new home, Angel,” Travers said in a half-whisper. “But trust me; it won’t go unappreciated.”
“You snake!”
“You left me no room to negotiate,” he told her, as he pushed a button and extended the knife blade.
Shannon tightened her lips and raised her head as Travers lifted the long spear over his shoulder and thrust it into the water. He retracted it, and Shannon let out a groan as her head sank slowly beneath the surface of the bubbles. Then Travers closed the door behind him.
Just as he had done when stealing the Montoya, Travers removed his mask and gloves, then took off his black coat and reversed it. Afterward, he strolled casually out the back door, case in hand, with the Degas tucked securely inside.
Jim peered around the corner of the building, his lips drawn into a thin line, and watched him go. Then he hastened inside the studio.
“Shannon?” he called, as he opened the door. “Shannon?” he repeated, walking toward the bathroom.
The female agent opened the door and emerged, wearing a silk bathrobe, with her hair wrapped in a towel. Jim let out a heavy sigh.
“You’re okay.”
“Yeah,” she smiled, holding up the flak jacket she had been wearing beneath the bubbles. “I had myself pretty much covered. And…” She reached into the robe’s right pocket and extracted a small handgun. “…with this under the water, too, just in case he wasn’t fooled.”
Jim immediately clicked on his communicator. “Shannon’s fine,” he said hastily, in order to reassure his other teammates. “Is the bug in the painting working?”
“Yep,” Grant replied, watching the blinking lights on his tracking monitor as Max drove silently. “He’s heading down East 54th Street. Heading towards his hotel.”
“Good. Nicholas is in position.”
*****
Nicholas sat in the lobby of Travers Towers, seemingly relaxed and reading a newspaper. But he was anything but relaxed. Even while keeping an eye out for Travers to appear with the stolen painting in hand, the dark-haired agent’s mind was elsewhere.
Shannon’s fine. Jim’s words kept repeating in his mind. They should have been reassuring, but they weren’t, and Nicholas wouldn’t be certain that Shannon was okay until he saw her himself. For the moment, he tried hard to put his concern aside as Daniel Travers stepped through the front door.
*****
Following the failed attempt to locate Travers’ hidden gallery, the five agents reunited at headquarters to have a quick meal before turning in for the night. One by one, each agent said good night and went upstairs until only Shannon and Nicholas remained in the dining room.
Nicholas took a long sip of his Irish tea and swallowed hard. His eyes were downcast, his expression pensive.
“Nicholas,” Shannon said softly, breaking the awkward silence.
“Yes, Shannon?” he responded, looking up at her.
“You want to tell me what’s on your mind?”
Nicholas forced a smile. “Is it that obvious?”
“I’m afraid so,” she smiled back. Then, without thinking, she reached across the small table and grasped his hand. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
Nicholas sighed heavily, his eyes locking with Shannon’s, and it was a moment before he answered her. “I’m really glad you’re all right, Shannon,” he said quietly.
“You were worried about me.”
“Yes,” Nicholas admitted.
Shannon started to say something, but Nicholas raised his hand to stop her. “I know you can take care of yourself,” he assured her, “but that doesn’t stop me from worrying.”
The last of her defensiveness fell away as Shannon realized the truth of her friend’s statement. In the year she had been with the team, she’d seen Nicholas’ concern manifest time and time again – not just for her, but for everyone. That’s just how he is, she thought to herself.
“You are very good at worrying,” she agreed, her voice barely audible.
Nicholas pondered this for a moment. “Yes,” he finally responded, “I suppose I am.” A pause, then he gazed at Shannon, his eyes almost pleading. “Do you mind?”
Shannon gently removed her hand from his, picked up her empty teacup, and walked across the kitchen to put it in the sink. Nicholas followed her lead. Soon, the two agents were facing one another.
“No,” Shannon finally answered, grinning slightly at her friend. “I don’t mind at all.” Suddenly, impulsively, she raised herself up on her tiptoes and kissed Nicholas’ left cheek. “Thank you.”
They stood there for a long moment, their gazes locked, wordlessly speaking volumes, until Shannon finally broke the silence once again.
“Well,” she said breezily, “I suppose it’s time for bed.”
Nicholas, moved by Shannon’s kiss and anxious to find a way to reciprocate the affection, grasped her left hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed it tenderly. “Pleasant dreams.”
Then Nicholas turned toward the stairs and began to ascend. Shannon followed. At the top of the stairs, she paused momentarily and watched as Nicholas smiled his good night, then disappeared into his room.
“Pleasant dreams, indeed,” she said quietly, to no one in particular, as she smiled to herself and opened her own bedroom door.
The End
(c) 2022
Create Your Own Website With Webador