A Mouthful of Ash

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.  🙂

Summary: Max is still recovering from his run-in with the volcano. Nicholas is there to help. A stand-alone story, set immediately following Cargo Cult (S2E12). Some familiarity with the episode is assumed.

For Ana

*******

Nicholas awoke with a start to a strange, repetitive sound. At first, his half-asleep brain could not pinpoint what it was, much less where it was coming from. But a few seconds later, as the fog lifted, he recognized both the source and the sound.

Max was coughing.

Nicholas looked over at the bed next to his and saw the blond agent sitting up on the side of it, his body jerking with each cough. The dark-haired agent quickly peeled back the thin sheet covering him and rushed to the small refrigerator. He took out a bottle of water, twisted off the lid, and poured some into a plastic cup. Then he sat down beside Max and laid his left hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Take it easy, Max," he whispered.

It took another moment for the coughing to subside, then Nicholas spoke again. "You okay?" he asked worriedly.

Max shook his head. "I'm having a tough time…catching my breath," he answered, gasping heavily, and Nicholas found his concern mounting.

Max reached for the water in his teammate's hand, but as soon as he lifted it to his lips he was seized by another coughing fit. The water cup fell to the floor, spilling its contents as Max bent forward and grabbed his knees.

Nicholas' mind was racing as he tried to think of something to help his friend. For the first time, he noticed that it felt oppressively hot in their hotel room. He briefly considered dragging Max to the balcony to get some fresh air, but then thought better of it — the dry summer heat of New Belgium was certainly not going to help him.

Instead, he got up and turned the air conditioner on, as high and as cold as it would go. In a flash, he was back by Max's side.

"Come on," he coaxed, grasping the blond's arm and gently leading him to the recliner sitting beside it.

Max, still coughing, sat down in the chair, leaning over so that the full force of the blowing air could hit him in the face. Nicholas stood beside him, a supportive hand on Max's back, until the coughing subsided a moment later. The blond remained in the same position, sucking in slow, deep breaths of air.

"That's it, Max. Keep it up."

Nicholas walked over to the small table between their beds and reached for the phone. Max watched him go. Sensing what his friend was about to do, he held up his hand.

"Don't," he gasped.

Nicholas kept his hand on the receiver and gazed at the blond. "Max, you can't breathe. You need a doctor," he insisted.

Max shook his head again. "I'll be all right in a minute," he promised, his breathing beginning to level out. "The cold air is helping."

"At least let me call the others."

"No, Nicholas. It's okay," the blond insisted. "Just come sit with me."

Reluctantly, Nicholas let go of the phone and did as Max asked. He plopped down on Max's bed, which was nearest the recliner, and looked carefully at his friend. He was relieved to see that Max's face had regained its usual color and he was now breathing normally.

The dark-haired agent sighed heavily. "I'm glad you're doing better," he said softly. "You had me worried. What happened?"

"A lung full of Obi Katu would be my guess," Max quipped.

Nicholas shuddered as his mind went back to the day before, when he and Max were hanging helplessly above the bubbling volcano with no idea how they were going to make it out of there alive, knowing that Shannon was in Regher's clutches and that Jim and Grant were still on the other side of the bridge. The heat and smoke and ash had been stifling for both of them, but especially for Max. Nicholas had worriedly noticed him coughing and his eyes watering heavily, even before the red light flashing on the villager's shoulder revealed that someone had managed to come to their rescue, after all.

*******

The last of the villagers had left the area.  Nicholas and Max were waiting at the top of the mountain, still hopelessly tied to the airplane propellers and suspended in midair unable to move, when a familiar figure came into sight.

"Boy, are we glad to see you, pal," greeted Max.

"Likewise," Grant responded.  "Are you guys okay?"

"Thanks to you," answered Nicholas warmly.  "The Morse Code idea was genius." 

"I'm just glad you were paying attention," Grant replied. "What do you say we get you down from there, eh?"

"With pleasure, friend." There was an air of uncertainty in Nicholas' voice. "But how do you suggest we do that?"

Grant pondered this for a moment, realizing that his friends' wrists and ankles were bound to the propellers, which in turn were tied to the twin wooden stakes and suspended above the ground. But from the look of things, they were only about three feet up. He could reach their wrists himself with just a little more distance.

Grant grasped the post on Max's left side and leapt onto it, wrapping his legs around it to anchor him there. He held onto the wooden pole with his left hand while retrieving a large knife out of his back pocket with his right. Now he was within easy reach of Max's right wrist, and he carefully began to cut the ropes that bound him.

"Be careful with that thing," Max quipped, as he felt the last of the bonds release. Grant handed him the knife and he quickly cut his left wrist free. Then he handed it back to his teammate, clinging to the still-attached propeller for support while Grant freed his ankles.

Max then wrapped his body around one of the poles and carefully lowered himself to the ground, with Grant helping to cushion his descent. Max thumped his friend's back gratefully, then allowed Grant to climb on his back in order to better reach the ropes which bound Nicholas' left wrist. The process was repeated, and soon all three agents were back on solid ground.

"We need to hurry. Jim is waiting," Grant advised.

But just as the trio turned to start their descent down the mountainside, Max was seized by a sudden fit of coughing which stopped him in his tracks. Nicholas kept a comforting hand on the blond's back until the horrible barking subsided.

"Are you all right. Max?" the dark-haired agent asked, his voice heavy with concern.

"I got a mouthful of ash," Max gasped, watching as the smoke continued to billow up from within Obi Katu. "I'll be okay once we get off this mountain."

"Let's get the hell out of here, then," Grant said urgently, and Max slapped Nicholas' shoulder fondly as they made their careful descent.

*******

"All that smoke and ash did seem to bother you more than it did me," Nicholas noted.

"Yeah, and I think I know why," the blond said quietly. At Nicholas' raised eyebrow, he continued. "I had a bunch of respiratory infections as a kid," he explained. "The doctors called it asthma, but once I turned six or seven I didn't have any more. And I never really needed to use those inhalers they prescribed for me."

"So you outgrew it," Nicholas deduced.

"If it really was asthma in the first place," Max countered.

"Maybe it wasn't asthma," Nicholas reasoned thoughtfully, "but your lungs still may be more sensitive to the environment and things." His face clouded as he stared worriedly at his stubborn friend. "I think it's worth seeing a doctor about, once we get back home."

Max looked down at his feet. "I'm kind of afraid to," he admitted, his voice barely audible.

Nicholas' stomach lurched; it wasn't like Max to admit to being afraid of anything. And Max seemed healthy as a horse. "Afraid they'll find something?" he asked gently.

There was a pause before Max finally answered. "Afraid they'll find something that will force me to have to quit the team," he confessed, his voice low.

Nicholas was taken aback by the response. It was a valid one. The dark-haired agent could think of several respiratory conditions, including asthma, that would disqualify an agent from the IMF — a company that expected its employees to be in excellent physical and mental health in order to face the challenges of the job. Certain medications could be exclusionary on their own.

For the first time, Nicholas understood why Max hadn't wanted him to call emergency services — or the other team members, for that matter. If Jim even suspected that Max was having trouble, he might kick him off the team anyway, as a precaution.

"I get that," Nicholas assured him empathetically, his voice quiet, "but I'm afraid of what might happen to you if you don't have this checked out."

Max's blue eyes met Nicholas's soft brown ones, and the concern he saw shining there was almost palpable. The blond agent sighed heavily.

"All right," he relented. "I'll go. On one condition." At Nicholas' questioning look, a sideways grin curled across Max's face. "You go with me."

"Deal." Nicholas replied without hesitation, returning his smile. "Now, get some sleep."

Max reached for the lever on the side of the recliner and pulled it toward him, and the chair folded outward. "If it's okay with you. I think I'll sleep here tonight," he advised, as he lay back and allowed his feet to extend in front of him. "I can breathe better over here. That bed is soft but suffocating."

"Hey, whatever helps you feel better, Max," Nicholas agreed, as he grabbed Max's pillow and sheet off the bed. Max raised his head, and Nicholas gently placed the pillow behind it, then spread the sheet across him, patting Max's shoulder fondly. "But if you're gonna leave the air on full blast, I might need an extra blanket."

Nicholas walked back to his bed, and Max watched as he threw his pillow onto the bed that the blond had occupied just a few moments earlier. Then he took his sheet and a heavier blanket and spread them carefully onto the other bed before turning them down and climbing in.

"What are you doing?" Max grinned knowingly.

"Staying close by in case you need me later," Nicholas answered, his voice low.

Max's grin faded slightly as he grew serious. "Thanks, buddy," he said sincerely. "For everything."

Nicholas smiled back at his friend in response, and the rest of the night passed uneventfully, save for one more minor coughing spell that resolved itself within moments.

*********

"Well, what's the verdict?" Nicholas asked two days later, as Max emerged from the examining room. He was holding a piece of paper in his hand, but judging by the huge grin on his face the dark-haired agent sensed it was good news.

"Just some inflammation," the blond replied. "Nothing that a round of steroids won't fix." He thumped Nicholas' shoulder fondly as the dark-haired agent got to his feet. "Looks like you're stuck with me, pal."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Nicholas grinned, slinging an arm around the taller man's shoulders as they left the doctor's office and headed home.

The End

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