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. 🙂
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Nemesis Chapter 26
"Are you sure?" Nicholas questioned.
"I'm sure," Jim responded, "just as I'm sure that what happened to you and Shannon and Max and Grant were not accidents." Jim's eyes flashed fire and his fist clenched. "I will make him pay," he vowed, emphasizing each word, in a tone that made a cold chill rush up the dark-haired agent's spine.
Nicholas cast a wary glance at the cardiac monitor, which was starting to pick up erratic activity. "Jim," he cautioned, his voice quiet, "you've got to take it easy, and I've got to go check on Shannon. We can talk about this later, okay?"
"Okay," Jim relented. Then, just as Nicholas was about to step out the door, he heard Jim call his name again. He turned around.
"Yes, Jim?"
"Christie was mistaken about you and Shannon," he ventured. "Do you think he could be wrong about Max and Grant, too?"
Nicholas sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he walked back to Jim's bed, realizing only a second later that he'd just channeled one of his blond friend's most frequent gestures.
"I don't want to get my hopes up," Nicholas admitted, "but if it were possible for anyone to find a way to survive, it would be those two."
Jim nodded. "I have to fly out there, Nicholas. To the crash site. I have to see it for myself, to make sure that..." His voice trailed off for a moment. "To make sure that nothing else could have been done."
Nicholas nodded. Of course he did. Just like he'd had to with Casey, and with Tom Copperfield before her. It was just his way.
"Jim," Nicholas said, his voice calm, "get some rest. In a day or two, when you're released, we'll fly out there. I promise."
Jim, satisfied, closed his eyes and quickly drifted back to sleep, as Nicholas headed toward Shannon's room.
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Shannon's room was so quiet that the beeping of her heart monitor and steady rhythm of the ventilator seemed horrendously loud.
Nicholas spoke softly to her, letting her know he was there, while he held her hand tightly in his own. As he glanced around the room, he noticed a couple of new medications that hadn't been there that morning. He frowned.
After a few moments, he let go of her hand and ventured out to the nurse's station. There was a doctor sitting there, writing notes on a chart. He looked up at Nicholas and smiled.
"May I help you?" he asked.
"I'm with Ms. Reed," Nicholas answered. "How's she doing?"
The doctor frowned slightly, and his voice was quiet. "As we suspected, she has developed pneumonia in both lungs. We have added some more aggressive medications to try to fight it off, but right now it's still touch and go."
Nicholas nodded sadly. "Thank you for what you're doing," he whispered, then walked away quickly before he lost his composure.
She couldn't die! She just couldn't. It wasn't fair. Not after...
For a moment, Nicholas wrestled with his own guilt, thinking about all the things he could have done differently to have maybe changed Shannon's outcome somehow. If he'd kept the communicator, or the keys, he might have gotten her to the hospital quicker....
Suddenly, he became aware of a dull whipping noise that sounded as if it were directly overhead. Curious, he walked to a window at the end of the hallway and looked out. A rescue helicopter was landing on the helipad; Nicholas could see it quite closely from his vantage point.
Mesmerized, he watched as half a dozen nurses rushed out to meet the chopper. The medics rolled the stretcher out and into the hands of the nurses, who whisked it inside.
Nicholas couldn't tell much about the prone figure lying on the stretcher covered almost completely in white blankets. Only two things stood out: there was an IV bag hanging to the side, and the victim was most definitely African-American.
As Nicholas continued to watch, the medics rolled out a second stretcher. This time, the figure was sitting upright, with some sort of padding propped in front of him. And this figure had thick, blond hair.
Nicholas' heart did somersaults inside his chest, his guilty conscience forgotten for the moment. Could it be...? Dare he hope...?
He had to find out. He had to know.
With no time to wait for the elevator, Nicholas found the fire door and raced down the stairs at full speed to the emergency room floor.
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(c) 2016
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