The Jogger

Chapter 1

Nicholas Black slid behind the wheel of his BMW and pulled out of his apartment complex.  He was headed for Jim's condominium; the team had been called up for a new mission.

As usual, Jim had only given the sketchiest of details on the phone; all he'd said was to pack a bag for two nights.  They would find out more at the meeting about where they were going and what they'd be doing there.

Nicholas had made the trip so many times that he didn't need to concentrate on the route.  While he drove, his mind began to wander and speculate about the mission.  A half dozen miles into his trip, he passed through a scenic residential area.  Out of habit, he slowed down.

Up ahead, he saw a young man of maybe twenty, jogging along the left side of the road in the same direction he was traveling.  Nicholas paid little attention as his car drew even with the jogger.  But as he drove by, he caught a sudden flicker of movement in his peripheral vision.

Nicholas glanced back through his rear-view mirror, and his stomach lurched.  The young jogger had fallen and was lying in a heap on the side of the road.  He did not appear to be moving.

Nicholas had the gnawing feeling that he needed to backtrack and check on the young man, but the road was narrow and there was no place to turn his car around.  He looked in his mirror every four or five seconds as long as the jogger was in sight.  The young man did not move.

As soon as Nicholas' car went around the bend, he saw a house with a long, winding driveway.  He whipped his car into the driveway, turned around, and sped back to the place where he'd seen the jogger go down.

The young man was gone.

Nicholas parked his car and got out.  He walked the three steps to the patch of grass onto which he was sure he'd seen the jogger fall.  He crouched down for a closer look.  There was no blood, no sign of depressions, no footprints.  There was no evidence at all that anyone had been close by.

But where could he have gone?  There was no sign of anyone.  The nearest house to the north was half a mile away; to the south, it was around the bend where Nicholas had just turned his car around.  There wouldn't have been time for him to get anywhere.

Nor, Nicholas deduced, could the jogger have climbed into someone's car.  He had seen no cars at all in the past five minutes, and it wasn't like one could have just pulled out of a driveway.  There were no driveways.

Nicholas stood there for an unknown amount of time in stunned silence, his original destination all but forgotten, just trying to make sense of what he'd just seen.  It was no use.  Finally, he remembered that he was due for a mission briefing at Jim's condo.  He quickly looked at his watch and cursed aloud when he realized he was going to be late.  He hopped into his BMW and sped toward downtown.

Chapter 2

It was almost fifteen minutes past ten.  Four of the five IMF agents were seated in their customary places at Jim's condo, but one of their own had not yet arrived.

"Has anyone heard from Nicholas?" Grant asked, still more curious than anxious, even though his friend was notorious for being early.

"No," Jim answered, "and it's not like him to be late without calling." Jim knew he didn't have his communicator, because he kept them at the condo between missions.  But he'd tried to call the dark-haired agent's phone, with no success.

"I'm sure he'll be here in a little bit," Shannon said optimistically.

But when ten more minutes went by with no sign of Nicholas, Max could stand it no longer.

"He's never been this late," he said worriedly.  "Something's wrong.  I'm going to go look for him."

Before anyone could protest, Max walked to the door and opened it.  Reaching for the knob from the other side was his friend.

"Nicholas!  You're here!" Max exclaimed, his voice a combination of relief and surprise.

"I'm sorry I'm late, guys," Nicholas murmured.

"Where've you been, pal?" Grant asked, half-teasingly.  "Max was about to come looking for you."

"On a wild goose chase, it would appear," Nicholas answered vaguely, as he took his seat next to Max on the sofa.

"What's that supposed to mean?" questioned Max.

"It's not important," Nicholas replied dismissively.  "Let's get down to business.  I'll explain afterward."

With that, the team's attention turned to the mission at hand: to expose a corrupt Central American official.  As soon as the briefing was over, the five team members loaded themselves and their luggage into the Land Rover and set off for the airport.

"So, Nicholas, you never did explain what made you late today," Max reminded him from behind the wheel, glancing through the rear-view mirror at his friend sitting in the backseat.

Nicholas smiled slightly at the curious blond agent, then briefly told them about the jogger he'd seen that morning.  "By the time I found a place to turn around," he finished, "there was no sign of him anywhere."

"Maybe he went home," Grant suggested with a shrug.

"Maybe," Nicholas conceded, "but I don't see how.  He would have had to sprint to get to the nearest driveway by the time I got turned around."

"Could someone have picked him up?" Max chimed in.

"I didn't see another car," Nicholas answered.  "It just seemed very strange to me."

The others grew quiet, and Nicholas knew they were contemplating.  He just didn't  know if they were trying to determine the jogger's fate or Nicholas' own sanity.  He chuckled nervously.

"Anyway, it doesn't matter.  We have a job to do." And with that,  Nicholas and the others put the bizarre incident out of their minds to focus on the mission.

*******

But putting the jogger out of his mind wasn't as easy as Nicholas had hoped.

Several times during the day, Nicholas had to consciously rein his mind back in to the matter at hand, and away from the mysterious jogger.  None of his team said anything, but once or twice the dark-haired agent caught them looking intently at him.  Nicholas was not the type to obsess about anything, and he couldn't figure out why the matter seemed so important.  Instinctively, he knew that the others would understand even less, so he remained quiet.

That evening, after a long day of preparation, the team settled into their rooms for the evening.  Since there were three bedrooms in the luxury suite, Shannon got a room to herself, while Grant paired off with Jim and Nicholas with Max.  Physically and emotionally exhausted, Nicholas settled into bed with barely a good night to his teammate and fell asleep right away.

As soon as he started to dream, he found himself once again in that residential area.  Driving slowly down that byway.  Seeing the jogger up ahead.  Watching him fall.

Nicholas jerked awake, his breath coming in heavy gasps, his heart racing wildly.  Within seconds he realized that he was not alone in the room.  He peered at the adjacent bed, squinting in the moonlight.  Max was still asleep.

For the next few moments, Nicholas concentrated on slowing his breathing and willing his heart rate back to normal.  Finally, he closed his eyes, the desire to sleep overwhelming.

But after dreaming the same dream twice more, he gave up.

When Max awoke, he slowly became aware of two things.  It was still the middle of the night, and Nicholas was not in the bed next to his.  He glanced at the illuminated numbers on the digital clock between their beds.  It was not quite three in the morning.

Max glanced toward the window.  Nicholas was sitting there in a chair, gazing out the slightly open curtains at the city lights.  Mildly concerned, he swung his long legs off the bed and walked over to his friend's side.

Nicholas heard the soft scuffing of Max's bare feet on the carpeted floor.  "Hey, Max," he said softly, without turning his head towards his friend.  "Sorry if I woke you."

"You didn't," Max assured him.  "Can't sleep?"

"No," the dark-haired agent whispered.

"What's on your mind, buddy?"

Nicholas turned his head to look at his friend.  "You should go back to bed, Max.  I'm all right."

"In a minute," Max promised.  "First, tell me what's wrong."

Nicholas sighed heavily and looked down at his hands.  He knew Max wouldn't go back to sleep until he talked to him.

"I keep thinking about that jogger," he murmured.  "I'm even dreaming about him.  I don't know why I can't just let this go."

When Max didn't say anything right away, Nicholas met his eyes again.  "You probably think I'm crazy."

"I think we're all a little crazy," Max ribbed with a sideways grin.  Then he turned serious.  "That's just how your mind works, Nicholas," he shrugged.  "When something doesn't make sense to you, you won't let it rest.  It's just how you are." Max laid a hand on his friend's shoulder.  "But you really need to try to get some sleep, pal.  We have a busy day tomorrow."

Nicholas smiled slightly, thankful that Max didn't belittle him.  "Thanks, Max," he said sincerely.  "I'll try."

The two men returned to their beds.  Max returned to sleep almost immediately, but for Nicholas it was just as restless as before.

Chapter 3

Jim and Shannon were up early the next morning, preparing breakfast for the team.  Grant and Max soon joined them.  Nicholas was the last to show his face in the kitchen.  He greeted his teammates with a stiff "good morning" and reached for a coffee mug.

As usual, he was dressed impeccably, complete with tie, and anyone who didn't know him would likely not have known that there was anything different about him.  But Nicholas' face was slightly pale, his eyes tired, and his mood a little more subdued than usual.  When he finished pouring his coffee and disappeared into the dining room, Jim looked at Max and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"He didn't sleep well last night," Max explained.

"Hmm," Jim responded.  "Would this have anything to do with what he saw yesterday?"

Max shrugged.  "You know how he is," he said simply.  And, just like that, the conversation was over, for Jim did indeed know how he was.

"******

By the time Nicholas downed his third cup of coffee, he was feeling much more...normal...and ready to proceed with the day.  He played his assigned part with his characteristic finesse, and the events of the mission went off without a hitch.  As far as anyone was concerned, whatever had caused the dark-haired agent to lose sleep the night before was long forgotten.

As far as anyone was concerned.

The truth was, the young jogger had not been far from Nicholas' thoughts all day.  But he had seen the look on Jim's face this morning in the kitchen, and he knew that in order to avoid any awkward confrontations he needed to act as if it wasn't getting to him anymore.  So Nicholas had summoned all his acting skills and used them for his own benefit.

This had been a relatively straightforward mission, and the team would finish it up the next day.  But tomorrow would be more challenging than today had been, which meant that Nicholas needed rest.  It was hard for even the best of actors to function without adequate sleep.

The team members bid one another good night and retreated to their respective rooms.  Max got sidetracked finishing up a conversation with Grant.  He did not see Nicholas pop open the bottle of sleep medication, slide two tablets into his hand, down them with a drink of water and stuff the bottle into his suitcase.  But Nicholas was determined that nothing was going to interfere with his sleep tonight.

*******

It was happening again.

Nicholas was at the wheel, driving down that same stretch of byway, seeing the same row of houses just before his car went around the bend.   He knew he was going to see that jogger when he rounded the curve.  He knew that as soon as he drew even with the young man, he was going to fall.  Nicholas tried to push the brake, tried to stop the car, hoping somehow it would keep the inevitable from happening. But it didn't work.

He tried to stop the car in the middle of the road, but it just kept going.  He glanced back through the rear view mirror over and over again, knowing that each time he would see the young jogger lying in a heap on the ground.

Except this time was different.

This time, just before he disappeared around the curve, the young man sat up and locked eyes with Nicholas. Even though it didn't seem possible, Nicholas saw the young man's mouth move.  And even though he didn't hear a thing, Nicholas understood the words perfectly.

Help me.

Chapter 4

Nicholas screamed and sat bolt upright in bed.  His heart was about to thump out of his chest.  His breath was coming in short, panicked gasps, and his forehead was soaked with sweat.

His teammate's scream woke Max from his slumber.  The blond agent flipped on the bedside lamp and within seconds was sitting beside his friend, one arm slung across the shorter man's back and a hand on each shoulder.

"Shhh, it's okay," Max soothed quietly.  "You're safe, Nicholas.  It was just a dream."

Max could feel Nicholas' body shaking, and it frightened him.  "Calm down, buddy," he coached, making a conscious effort to keep his own voice calm.  "Slow, deep breaths.  Nice and easy.  That's it," he encouraged, as Nicholas began to do as he was told.

Max's deep, gravelly voice and gentle touch were comforting to his dark-haired teammate, and gave him something to focus on.  Gradually, his heartbeat slowed, his breathing evened out.  Max removed his hand from Nicholas' shoulder just long enough to pick up his handkerchief from the nightstand and press it into his friend's hand.

Nicholas wiped the sweat from his brow, then smiled slightly at his blond teammate.  "Thanks, Max.  I'll be okay now."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

Max patted Nicholas' shoulder gently, then hopped back onto his own bed and gazed into his buddy's eyes.  "It was the jogger again, wasn't it?" he asked softly.  It wasn't really a question.

Nicholas' heavy sigh confirmed Max's suspicions.  "It was different this time." He told Max about the cry for help at the end of his dream.  "Why is this happening?"

"I don't know, Nicholas," Max sighed, running a hand through his hair.  "Maybe he's trying to tell you something."

Surprised by the comment, Nicholas' eyes riveted to his friend.  "Do you really think there's something to this?"

Max shrugged.  "I sure don't think you're crazy."

Nicholas sighed again.  "Thanks, but I don't think the others agree with you."

"At least I don't think you woke them," Max said, his voice low.  "They'd have been knocking on the door by now."

Nicholas suddenly grew nervous.  "Look, Max, this may be too much to ask-"

"I won't say anything," Max interrupted, reading his mind, "but they're going to figure it out themselves if you don't get some rest."

"I know," Nicholas conceded.  Then he got up from his bed, fumbled in his suitcase, and pulled out the bottle of sleeping pills.  Max watched worriedly as his friend shook out two pills and downed them with a drink of water.

"Nicholas," he said, his voice betraying his concern, "are you sure that's a good idea?"

"No," Nicholas admitted quietly, "but I'm sure it's the only way I'm going to sleep."

Nicholas reached over to give Max's shoulder an affectionate pat before settling back down in his bed.  "Thank you again, Max," he smiled slightly.  Within a few moments, he was asleep again.

Max was awake for several minutes longer, thinking about his friend.  Extra caffeine this morning, sleeping pills this evening...if something didn't change soon, this wasn't going to end well.

*******

It was the last day of the mission. 

Nicholas emerged from the bedroom looking and feeling very much like his old self.  Sure, he'd taken more sleep aids than he should have the night before, but after that brutal initial nightmare there hadn't been any further dreams about the mysterious jogger.  At least, none that he could remember, but he reasoned that not remembering was just as good.

The team finished up a hearty breakfast, then Nicholas, Grant, and Shannon went off to get dressed for the day ahead.  Grateful that there hadn't been a confrontation about their teammate this morning, Max started into the common area when Jim suddenly caught his arm.

"What's going on with Nicholas?" he demanded.

Max put on his best innocent look.  "I don't know what you're talking about, Jim."

"I heard you two talking last night," Jim advised, and Max cursed to himself.  "More dreams?"

"It's not a big deal, Jim."

"He's obsessed with this jogger that he thinks he saw two days ago.  So obsessed that it's taking his focus away from our mission."

Max felt defensiveness rising up inside him.  He resented to implication of Jim's words.  He wasn't sure what was going on with his friend, but he was sure of two things: Nicholas was more than capable of running the mission, and he wasn't making the jogger story up.

"Jim, he's fine."

Jim sighed heavily.  "We're at the end of this mission, and we need his help.  But once we're back in the States, I'm sending him for a comprehensive evaluation."

Jim's dress shoes clicked resolutely against the tile kitchen floor as he walked away without waiting for a response.

Chapter 5

The remainder of the mission went off without a hitch.  Justice was served, thanks in part to Nicholas' flawless performance.

The four younger agents made small talk on the flight back to San Francisco.  Jim was stoically quiet, but that was typical for him so nobody thought much of it.

When the plane touched down and the agents picked up the Land Rover, Jim suggested they go ahead and meet for debriefing before going their separate ways.  It wasn't terribly late yet, and their vehicles were all parked at Jim's condo anyway.

Once the debriefing ended, Jim sighed deeply.  "There's one more thing I want to discuss before we say goodnight," he said, his voice nervous but deliberate.  Max's stomach lurched anxiously as Jim turned to their dark-haired teammate.

"Nicholas," he began gently, holding up a hand, "don't be angry, but I think you should talk to someone about your fixation with this jogger you think you saw."

Nicholas stared at his leader, indignant at both the request and the insinuation that the jogger had been all in his head. "What do you mean, 'talk to someone'?"

Jim sighed.  "You need to see a professional," he answered vaguely.

Nicholas' eyes and his temper both snapped. "A shrink?" he cried, incredulous.  "You think I'm crazy, Jim?"

"I think, for whatever reason, you're having a hard time putting this out of your mind," Jim reasoned.  "I think it will be helpful to figure out why that is."

Jim laid a fatherly hand on Nicholas' shoulder.  "Nicholas, you've been rather... distracted during this mission, and distraction can be dangerous.  You know that."

The angry dark-haired agent shook off Jim's touch.  "And now you don't think I'm capable of running missions." It was an accusation, rather than a question.

Jim did not answer for a moment.  The others continued to watch in stunned silence. "Let's just make sure everything's okay, Nicholas, for your sake.  We're all worried about you."

Nicholas made a spitting sound.  "I know what you're worried about," he said with contempt, "and as far as I'm concerned, this debriefing is over."

With that, and before anyone could stop him, Nicholas walked out the door at a rapid clip.

Max stood up, intending to follow, but Jim restrained him.  "Let him go, Max.  Give him some time."

A few moments later, Jim announced that he was going to make some phone calls.  When he disappeared into the adjoining room, Max jumped on his motorcycle and headed toward Nicholas' apartment.

*******

Nicholas pulled his BMW to the side of the road, directly across from where he'd seen the jogger go down two days before.  He got out of his car and walked over to the grassy patch.  It had not been mowed, and the grass was quite tall.

Nicholas knelt down and rubbed the grass thoughtfully between his fingers.  "What happened to you?" he whispered to no one in particular.

Suddenly, he heard the telltale buzz of a motorcycle approaching.  He didn't have to ask who it was.  He watched as the bike pulled off the road behind his BMW, and its rider removed his helmet and came walking toward him.

"It makes sense that you'd be here," Max said quietly.  "This is where it happened, isn't it?"

For a moment, Nicholas' eyes flashed fire.  "Did you come here to convince me to see a shrink?" he asked, his voice dripping with contempt.

"No," Max answered, his voice barely audible.  "I came here to make sure you were okay."

Surprised at the response, Nicholas looked up at Max, who sighed heavily.  "Look, I know you're not crazy, and I know you aren't making this up," he affirmed, kneeling down beside his friend.

"Then why didn't you say something back at the condo?" Nicholas questioned, his voice softer now but still accusatory.

"I'd already tried, at breakfast this morning," Max responded.

Nicholas let this sink in for a moment.  "He'd already made up his mind."

Max nodded.  "Nicholas, I know the psych eval is ridiculous, but you know he's not going to let you run any more missions until you do it."

"I know," Nicholas nodded.  "That's why I'm taking a leave of absence from the IMF until I figure out why this is happening to me."

Max looked at the ground for a moment, and Nicholas could almost see the wheels turning in his head.  Finally, he looked up again.  "Would you like some help?" he asked.

The question took the dark-haired agent by surprise.  "Max, I couldn't ask you to-"

"You didn't ask," Max interrupted gently.  He ran a hand through his blond hair.  "Look, there's a reason why you saw what you saw, and I want to help you find out what it is." He allowed a sideways grin to cross his lips.  "Call it curiosity."

The smile disarmed Nicholas, and he found himself giving back one of his own.  "Thanks, buddy."

Max looked up at the heavens and noticed the darkness beginning to descend.  "It's getting late," he remarked.  "Maybe we should get some sleep and get a fresh start on this in the morning."

Nicholas did not want to wait, but he knew that he didn't have much choice; it was already too dark to find any clues in the grassy patch where the men still knelt.

"I guess you're right," he conceded, standing up.  "So I'll see you in the morning, then?"

Max also got to his feet, then he nervously met his friend's eyes.  "Nicholas," he said softly, "why don't you come stay at my place tonight?  Or I could come stay at yours."

"Why?"

"You might have another nightmare," Max reminded him.

Nicholas smiled again at his teammate's concern.  "Thanks, Max.  And I appreciate your help last night.  But I believe I'll be okay."

"Suit yourself," Max shrugged, "but call me if you need me, all right?"

"I will," Nicholas promised, reaching out to slap his teammate's shoulder affectionately.  As he turned to walk toward his car, Max caught his arm.  "And Nicholas?"

The shorter man turned in surprise.  "Yes?"

"Go easy on the sleeping pills, okay?"  Max was unable to hide the worry in his voice.  "They aren't good for you."

"I know," Nicholas admitted.  "Thanks."

And with that, the two friends parted ways for the evening, hopeful that the morning would bring the answers they were searching for.

Chapter 6

It was a little after eight the next morning and the skies were threatening rain.  Max intended to ride his motorcycle to Nicholas' place, but took one look at the weather and thought better of it.  Instead, he grabbed his car keys and started out.

Along the way, he stopped at a convenience store to pick up a couple of breakfast biscuits.  As he waited in line to pay for his purchase, his eyes wandered to the newspaper rack nearby.  Something in the paper grabbed his attention.  He picked up the paper, scanned the article, and then paid for the paper and the biscuits and continued on his way.

He arrived at Nicholas' apartment and knocked at the door.  He frowned.  It was nearly nine o'clock in the morning, and Max had expected his friend to be up and ready for the day.

Max knocked for several moments without a response.  Worried, he was thinking of kicking in the door when suddenly it opened.  Nicholas stood on the other side of it, his pajamas disheveled, rubbing his eyes.

"Morning, Max," he murmured.

Max felt a pang of sympathy as he entered the apartment.  "Rough night?" he asked softly.

"Something like that," Nicholas replied, sinking into an armchair.  "I tried to stay away from the sleep aids, but by three a.m. I still hadn't gotten any rest."

Max handed his friend the biscuit he'd purchased for him, and Nicholas smiled his gratitude.  "Did you dream?" the blond man asked.

Nicholas nodded.  "The same dream as before, with the same cry for help at the end."

"Nicholas," Max said pensively, "do you think you could recognize the jogger if you saw him?"

Nicholas was bemused by the question, but his answer sent a chill up Max's spine.  "As much as I've seen his face in my dreams, I'll never forget it," he answered quietly.  "Why?"

For the first time, Nicholas noticed the newspaper that Max held in his hand.  "I want to show you something."

Max carefully laid the newspaper on the coffee table in front of Nicholas, who slowly unfolded it.  The article that had caught Max's eye in the store started on the top half of the paper and continued on the bottom half.  Max perched on the arm of the chair beside his friend, as Nicholas drew in a sharp breath.

"Oh, my God." Max laid a hand on Nicholas' shoulder in silent support.  For a moment, Nicholas closed his eyes, feeling faint.  Then he willed his stomach to settle and looked up into his friend's worried face.  "That's him."

"You're positive."

"I've never been more sure of anything."

Max picked up the newspaper and began to read aloud:

"Police are searching for twenty-one year old Thomas Hixson, who's been missing since last Friday morning.  According to Hixson's family, the marathon runner went out for a jog in his Mill Street neighborhood and never came home.  Police have no leads at the present time.

"Hixson is five-nine and weighs approximately one-hundred sixty pounds.  He has light brown hair and green eyes.  At the time of his disappearance, he was likely wearing an olive green jogging suit.  Anyone who has any information is asked to contact the San Francisco police department."

Max finished reading, then he looked over at Nicholas.  "Well?"

Nicholas got to his feet and began to pace.  "All of the details check out, right down to the olive jumpsuit," he responded thoughtfully, "except for one." The dark-haired agent looked at Max.  "Didn't that say he disappeared on Friday?"  Max nodded.  "I saw him Saturday."

"That is right," Max mused.  "That's the day we left for Belize." Max stood up and looked out the living room window.  "If you want to look around at the place where you saw him fall, we'd better get on it.  It'll be raining within the hour."

"Good idea, Max.  Just let me get dressed."

Ten minutes later, Nicholas came back downstairs, and he and Max got into Max's car and made the ten minute trip to the scene of Nicholas' encounter.

*******

Nicholas and Max both scrutinized the grassy area where the dark-haired agent had seen the jogger fall to the ground.  They could find nothing.

"The police have probably been all through here," Max reasoned.

"You're probably right," Nicholas concurred.  Then, suddenly, something caught his eye.  He gazed toward a cornfield across the street from where they were standing.

"What is it?" asked Max, following his friend's eyes.

"Did you see that?"

"See what?"

"A flash of light.  Just a flicker.  You didn't see it?"

"I didn't see anything, Nicholas," Max insisted.  In fact, all he could see were corn stalks that were at least five feet high because it was August.  There wasn't anywhere a flash of light could have even come from.

"I'm going to check it out," Nicholas said resolutely.  "You coming?"

Nicholas set out toward the cornfield without waiting for an answer.

Maybe you are crazy, Max thought to himself, only half in jest.  Aloud he said nothing but doggedly followed his friend, grateful that there didn't seem to be any fencing around the cornfield and praying that no one would notice they were trespassing.

Nicholas walked at a rapid clip, without hesitation as if in a trance.  Though Max's legs were longer, he had some difficulty keeping up with the shorter man.  Finally, Nicholas stopped. 

It seemed like just another section of cornfield to Max, but to Nicholas it seemed very specific.  He dropped to the ground and began searching around the base of the cornstalks.  Max followed suit.

"What are we looking for?" he asked.

"I'll know it when we find it," Nicholas answered vaguely.

After a few more moments, Nicholas said, "Aha!"  He reached down into his pocket and drew out his handkerchief.  Then he scooped up something off the ground.

"What'd you find?" asked Max, incredulous. Nicholas opened his palm and showed Max what he'd picked up: two spent shell casings. 

Max stared at his friend in disbelief.  "How the hell did you find those?  How did you even know they were there?"

"This is where I saw the flash of light," Nicholas answered quietly.  "Beyond that, I don't have an explanation."

Chapter 7

The two agents returned to Nicholas' apartment to plan their next move.

"There are so many unanswered questions," Nicholas mused, as he paced the floor restlessly.  "We don't know anything at all about Thomas, nothing about his past, no idea about who might have a motive to shoot at him." He looked at his teammate.  "I wish we could have these shell casings tested to see what kind of gun they're from."

"I wish we had access to the kinds of resources we have when we're running missions,"  Max realized thoughtfully.

Nicholas suddenly snapped his fingers.  "Max, you're a genius!" he said triumphantly.

Max grinned.  "How's that?"

"We can act like this is a mission and go sniffing around until we find out the answers to our questions."

Max's smile faded as the irony of the situation hit him.  Normally the more impulsive of the pair, Max now found himself trying to rein in his usually level-headed friend.  "I don't know, Nicholas," he answered skeptically.  "Going undercover while on a mission is one thing.  Complete misrepresentation is something else."

Max's stomach lurched as Nicholas' almost childlike excitement quickly faded.  "You're right," he admitted, "but I don't know where to go from here."

Suddenly, there was a soft knock at Nicholas' door.  Max quickly shot his buddy an inquisitive look.

"You expecting anyone?"

"No," Nicholas answered.  "See who it is."

Almost protectively, Max peered through the peephole, then stepped back and opened the door.

"Grant!" he greeted, not sure whether to be happy at his friend's arrival or suspicious of his reasons.  "What are you doing here?"

"May I come in?" the black agent asked, almost timidly.

"Sure." Max took a step back to let their teammate enter.

Grant searched out Nicholas' eyes with his own, and instantly recognized the question he saw there.  He quickly held up his hand, palm outward in a gesture of defensiveness.

"Jim didn't send me here," he promised.  "I read the paper." He paused as Max nodded, affirming that they had read it, too.  "Thomas Hixson is your jogger, isn't he?"

Nicholas nodded wordlessly.

Grant's sigh was forced.  "Look, I'm sorry I didn't speak up yesterday.  I know I should have.  I don't understand what's going on, but I never once thought you were crazy.  I came here because I thought you might need some, um, outside resources." Grant gazed at his friend.  "Off the record."

Nicholas and Max exchanged incredulous glances, causing Grant's face to break into a grin.  "What?"

"We just had this conversation, Grant, about how we wish we had access to mission resources," Max answered.

"Looks like Thomas really does want us to help him," Nicholas murmured ominously.

A slight chill creeped up Grant's spine, and he shuddered involuntarily.  "Stop that," he chided gently.  "You're creeping me out.  Let me go to the car and get my laptop.  Then you can tell me what you'd like to know."

A beat, and then Grant returned with the laptop.  "You know we'd probably all be written up if Jim knew about this," Grant advised.  "So where do we start?"

"Maybe you could do a search on Thomas Hixson," Max suggested.  "Find out if there's anything interesting in his past."

Grant punched a couple of buttons.  "Let's see here.  Graduated from high school three years ago.  Part-time college student, works part-time in a warehouse.  Runs marathons in his spare time." Grant looked up at his two companions.  "Seems like a good kid; not the sort you'd expect to make enemies."

"Maybe whatever happened to him was completely random," Nicholas theorized.

"Let's see if he's had any legal troubles," Grant said thoughtfully.  He punched a couple more buttons, and then his brow furrowed as the results popped up.  "That's weird," he said aloud.

"What's weird?" asked Nicholas, as he and Max peered over Grant's shoulder.

"There's nothing on his adult record - no warrants, no arrests, not even a traffic ticket.  The guy's squeaky clean.  But he's part of a juvenile record that's still sealed."

"Can you get in?" Max inquired.

Grant looked sideways at him, a smirk crossing his face.  "Remember who you're talking to," he quipped.  After a few more moments, the laptop made a beeping sound as a new screen popped up.  Grant drew in a sharp breath.

"It seems our boy Thomas was out running one morning when he interrupted an aggravated sexual assault in progress," he reported, his voice low.  "By all accounts, he saved the woman's life.  He was sixteen.  The following year, the assailant, Ralph Stiltner, was convicted based on Thomas' testimony.  He was sentenced to six years in prison."

Nicholas did the math in his head.  "Then Stiltner should still be locked up," he observed.  "It's only been four years."

Grant pulled up a different screen and typed in Stiltner's name.  He cursed aloud.  "Early release for good behavior," he told them.  "He got out last Wednesday."

"And Thomas disappeared on Friday," said Max sadly.  "And I'll bet that's not a coincidence."

"Do we know anything about Ralph Stiltner?" Nicholas questioned.  His voice trembled slightly, causing Max to lay a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder.

Grant searched the database.  "Stiltner is thirty-two.  Did a short stint in the Army and was discharged."

"What did he do in the Army?" Nicholas interrupted suddenly.

Grant's expression sobered.  "He was a sniper."

Nicholas reached onto the coffee table and picked up his handkerchief.  He pulled back the folds of the cloth and showed Grant the shell casings.  "And I'll bet these are from a sniper rifle," he said softly.

"Where did you find those?" Grant asked.  Max raised an eyebrow in response, and Grant read between the lines.  "Yeah, I probably don't want to know, do I?" Grant sighed.  "I have a friend on the police force that'll test these for me.  No questions asked."

"Do we have a photograph of Ralph Stiltner?" Nicholas blurted.

Grant was taken aback by the sudden inquiry, but he pulled Stiltner's mug shot as Nicholas looked on.  Immediately, the color drained from the dark-haired agent's face.  The room began to spin around and he crumpled to the floor.

Chapter 8

"Nicholas!"

Max caught his teammate before he hit the floor, and half-carried, half-dragged the semi-conscious man to the sofa.  Grant abandoned his laptop and rushed into Nicholas' kitchen to fetch a glass of water.  Both men crouched in front of their friend, and Grant pressed the glass into his hands while Max kept his steadying hand on Nicholas' shoulder.

"Take it easy, pal," Max said softly, as Nicholas shakily brought the cup to his lips and took a drink.  "Are you all right?"

After a few more seconds, Nicholas finally spoke.  "I'm sorry," he whispered.  "It's overwhelming."

"Take your time, partner," Grant soothed.  "Just relax." Grant and Max exchanged glances, and each could tell that the other was terrified.

Several more minutes went by.  Finally, Nicholas' composure returned to him.

"Thomas Hixson is dead," he said, his voice uncannily matter-of-fact.  "I didn't want to believe it, but I'm sure of it.  He's dead, and Ralph Stiltner killed him."

"Did you see Stiltner in your dreams?" Max asked gently.

"No," Nicholas admitted, "but as soon as I looked at his face, I knew." He shuddered slightly.  "It was almost like I was looking through Thomas's eyes."

Grant, playing a hunch, got to his feet and walked back to his laptop while Max stayed with Nicholas.  He punched a few buttons.  "Thomas and the female victim should have been notified when Stiltner was released," he advised,  his voice grim, "but somehow they were never put into the victim alert system."

Nicholas suddenly turned pale again.  "Stiltner will kill her next, just like he killed Thomas.  Grant, we need to find her."

"The only thing you need to do is rest, pal," Max admonished.

"Max, I'm fine."

"Forgive the choice of words, Nicholas, but you look like you've seen a ghost," his blond friend disagreed.  "Look, with Grant's help, we've learned a lot of information already this morning.  Why don't you rest a while, and Grant and I will keep digging.  If we find out anything important, we'll wake you."

Nicholas sighed.  "All right," he finally conceded, "but only if I can rest here on the sofa." He looked down at his hands.  "The truth is,  I don't really want to be alone right now."

"Fine with us," Max agreed, patting his friend's shoulder gently as he stepped back so that Nicholas could get comfortable.

"Thank you, both of you, for helping, and for not thinking I'm crazy," he said sincerely.  Then he closed his eyes and was asleep within moments.

*******

"So what do you make of this?" Grant whispered to his blond friend, once Nicholas was asleep.

Max sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  "I honestly don't know, Grant," he answered.  "This defies any logical explanation I can come up with.  The only way he should know all of this is if Nicholas did it himself - and we both know that didn't happen.  But yet, here we are."

"We need to find the woman Stiltner assaulted," Grant vowed.

"Yeah, if Stiltner hasn't already found her," Max said grimly.

"Let's see." Grant got back into the police records.  "It says here her name was Nancy Fulton," he reported.  After punching some more buttons, he frowned.  "That's odd," he muttered.  "There's no evidence that a Nancy Fulton with her birthdate and Social Security numbers even exists after the trial date."

"Witness protection?" Max inquired.

"Maybe," Grant shrugged.  A little more computer work, and then he flashed a pearly white grin.  "Bingo," he said.  "Nancy Fulton's birthdate and Social match a woman named Stephanie Mays, and the photos match.  She lives less than an hour from here."

"Maybe we should pay her a visit," Max suggested.

Grant looked skeptical.  "Even if we did," he replied, "what could we possibly tell her that she'd believe?"

"Hmm.  Good point," Max mused.  "So what should we do?"

Just then, Max and Grant heard a rustling sound coming from the sofa.  They exchanged a split-second glance.

"Another dream," Max said tensely, and the two men rushed to their friend's side.

Nicholas was writhing on the sofa, caught in the throes of a nightmare.  Max laid his hand on his friend's shoulder and shook him gently.

"Nicholas, wake up," he said quietly.  "Come on."

Nicholas woke with a start, but was quickly calmed by his teammate's soothing voice.  He smiled his gratitude.  But, just as quickly, the smile faded.  He looked at his watch, then grabbed Max's arm.

"Guys, we've got to find her!"

"Find who, Nicholas?" asked Grant.

"The woman! Stiltner's going to kill her in three hours!"

Max and Grant exchanged curious glances.  "How can you be so certain, pal?" questioned Max.

Nicholas sighed.  "I saw it in my dream."

Chapter 9

"I was driving down the road, quite slowly, as if looking for my destination," Nicholas recalled.  "I stopped across the street from this white farmhouse with yellow shutters.  I saw a woman walking past an open window.  She had blonde hair.  I raised the gun..."

Nicholas raised his left arm as if going through the motions of his dream.  His arm trembled, and Grant laid a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"...and glanced at my watch..."

Nicholas looked intently at his right wrist.  "I clearly saw the date and time.  August seventeen, four-thirty p.m.  Then I pulled the trigger, and that's when you guys woke me."

Nicholas sighed heavily.  "I believe I was looking through the eyes of Ralph Stiltner, and seeing the future."

Max frowned.  "But all of your other dreams have been about the past, and through the eyes of Thomas Hixson.  Why the change?"

"I think it changed because I realized Thomas was dead," Nicholas answered slowly.  "I think he wants me to make sure his family gets closure,  and that his killer gets justice before someone else dies."

Grant looked at his blond friend.  "Don't be so skeptical, Max."

A sideways grin curled Max's lip.  "This, coming from you, who wrote the book on skepticism?"

Grant patted Max's chest.  "I didn't tell him that Stephanie Mays had blonde hair," he said quietly, "or that Stiltner is left handed."

Max and Nicholas looked quizzically at their black friend.  "People tend to wear their wristwatch on their non-dominant arm.  When you showed us how Stiltner raised the gun in your dream, you raised your left arm, and looked at the watch on your right," he explained, "even though I know you're right handed and wear your watch on your left wrist.  When I pulled up Ralph Stiltner's military record, it confirmed that he's left handed."

"And it makes sense that he'd go after her that way, since he's a sniper," Max added.  "That's probably how he took Thomas down, too."

"But if that's true, how can we possibly catch him?" asked Grant.

"I think I know a way," said Nicholas quietly, "but I'm going to need my mask-making kit."

"And it's still at Jim's condo," stated Grant.  "So how are we going to get it?"

"I have an idea." Max went to Nicholas' phone and dialed a number.

"Shannon, it's Max.  I need you to do me a favor."

"How's Nicholas doing?"

Max smiled at her concern for their teammate.  "He's fine.  Listen, do you think you could convince Jim to meet you for dinner in an hour or so?"

"Probably, Max.  Why?"

"I don't really want to say," he admitted.  "The three of us are probably going to be in a lot of trouble with Jim, and we don't want to drag you in, too."

"Fine," she sighed,  "but you'd better tell Nicholas that Jim will probably spend the entire time trying to get me to help convince him to take that psych eval."

Max grinned.  "You're an angel, you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah," Shannon quipped.  "You can pay me later."

Then the connection was broken and the trio began to formulate their plan.

*******

Forty-five minutes later, Nicholas, Max, and Grant were parked inconspicuously at a gas station a quarter mile from Jim's condo.  They watched until they saw Jim's Land Rover go rolling by.  Then the three men hurriedly stopped by the condo. Grant used his key to unlock the door and rushed in to retrieve the mask-making kit.

The trio pulled into a shady picnic area at a nearby park.  Nicholas sat in the backseat with his mask-making kit and Grant's laptop.  Within half an hour he had transformed himself into the image of Thomas Hixson.

When his friends saw the mask, they each drew in a sharp breath.

"That's uncanny," Grant said, his voice low.

"I know his face like I know my own," Nicholas mumbled.

With that, the three men finished the drive to their destination.

******

"I remember this road," Nicholas remarked when they turned off the main highway.  "There's her farmhouse; I recognize the yellow shutters," he added, pointing, even before Max double-checked the street number to find out he was correct.  Max threw a glance at Grant, who shrugged.  Neither of them understood what had been happening over the past three days, but there was no denying that it was real.

As Grant and Max prepared to get out of the vehicle, Max gazed through the rear view mirror at Nicholas, wearing the face of Thomas Hixson.  Except for identifying the road and the Mays farmhouse, his friend had been unusually quiet since he'd put on the mask.

"Hey, buddy," Max said softly.  "I know this is rough for you.  Are you going to be all right?"

Nicholas smiled slightly.  "I'm okay, Max."

"This is not the safest idea you've ever had, you know."

"I know," Nicholas conceded, "but I need to do this.  For Thomas."

Max nodded his understanding.  "Let's just hope Stiltner doesn't go for a head shot, eh?" he grinned.  Then he and Grant got out of the car and walked toward the farmhouse, while Nicholas stayed behind to wait for Stiltner.  It was 4:05 p.m.

Chapter 10

There was a knock at the door.

The blonde woman peered through the peephole and saw two men in suits standing there.  She opened the door cautiously.

"May I help you?"

"Are you Stephanie Mays?"

"Yes," she said timidly.  "And you are...?"

"I'm Detective Grant Carter, and this is Detective Max Harper.  We have something important to discuss with you.  May we come in?"

"Yes.  Yes, of course." She ushered the men inside and motioned for them to sit down on the black leather sofa in the living room.  She sat in a matching armchair nearby.  "What's this all about?"

"Ma'am, we need to let you know that Ralph Stiltner has been released from prison."

It took a moment for the name to register, but when it did, the young woman turned pale.  Her hand flew to her mouth.  "Oh, my God," she mumbled.  "Why didn't someone tell me?"  Then, in the very next instant, she asked, "How did you know I was Nancy Fulton?  I thought those records were sealed."

"It's not important how we know," answered Max.  "What's important is that we have reason to believe that Stiltner knows, too, and that he's on his way here as we speak."

"We need you to take cover in a back room away from the windows until the danger has passed," added Grant.  "Can you do that for us, ma'am?"

Stephanie nodded and disappeared into a back bedroom.  Grant ducked behind a tree and out of sight while Max looked out the window toward the car and gave Nicholas a thumbs-up.

No sooner had he done so than a small maroon sedan drove up and parked across from the white farmhouse.  Nicholas watched, trembling, as the door opened and the man he recognized as Ralph Stiltner got out.  It was 4:28.  It was now or never.

Stiltner took the rifle into his hand and gazed through the open window.  He saw a shock of blond hair and assumed it was Nancy Fulton - or Stephanie Mays - standing there.  It had taken a few days and calling in a favor from a buddy on the Force to find her, but finally he had done so.  Now, she would die just like Hixson.

He raised his left arm, took aim, and peered through the viewfinder.  Grant peeked out from around the tree and snapped some incriminating photographs. Just as Stiltner started to pull the trigger, he was startled by a voice from behind and just to the left of him.

"Don't do it, Stiltner."

Ralph Stiltner raised his head and swung around, only to come face to face with Thomas Hixson, still dressed in his olive jogging suit.  Stiltner turned pale.

"Hixson!  But how?" he screamed in disbelief.

"You already killed one person, Stiltner," said Nicholas, his voice ethereal.  "Let her live."

"You can't be here!  You're dead!  I killed you!" Stiltner fired one, then a second, shot into Nicholas' body, but he did not fall.  "I killed Thomas Hixson and buried him in that damn cornfield!"

That was all they needed to hear.  With lightning speed, Grant peered out from behind the tree and fired his dart gun at the sniper, felling him instantly.  As soon as Stiltner hit the ground, Nicholas also dropped to his knees, clutching his chest.  Grant rushed to his side.

"You all right, partner?" he asked anxiously, crouching down and laying a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I... think so," Nicholas gasped.  "That hurt... like hell." The dark-haired agent allowed Grant to help him to his feet.

"Of course it hurt," Grant said in sympathy, "even with two vests.  Those were real bullets and he shot you at close range." Grant carefully removed both vests and extracted the wire that Nicholas had been wearing.

"At least we got what we came for," Nicholas smiled weakly, as he removed his mask, "so it was worth it."

Max made sure Stephanie was safe and then rushed outside.

"You guys okay?" he asked tensely.

"We're all right," Nicholas assured his friend.  "How's Stephanie?"

"She's fine," he assured them with a smile.  "You did it, partner."

"With a little help from my friends," Nicholas added, smiling back.

A half hour later, Detective Grant Carter delivered a handcuffed Ralph Stiltner, his gun, shell casings, photographs, and a taped confession to the local police department.   An hour after that, local authorities unearthed the body of Thomas Hixson, buried in the same cornfield where Nicholas and Max had found the shell casings.

Nicholas' nightmare was finally over.

Chapter 11

The telephone rang early the next morning, jolting Nicholas out of his first dreamless sleep in three days.

"Hello?" he said, expecting to hear Max's deep, gravelly voice at the other end of the line.

But it wasn't Max this time.

"Nicholas."

A sigh.  "Hello, Jim."

"How are you doing?"

"I'm fine."

"Look, I know you requested a leave of absence from the team," Jim said, his voice uncharacteristically nervous, "but I was wondering if you would come in this morning.  Just to talk."

Nicholas wondered absently if there had been anything in the newspaper this morning that had piqued Jim's curiosity.  But it didn't really matter.  He still had no explanation for what had taken place during the past three days, but it was over now, and Nicholas was ready to get back to work.  Even if it meant he had to submit to an evaluation, Nicholas thought, he wouldn't really mind - hell, if he hadn't been the one living it, he'd have thought he was crazy, too.

"I'll be there, Jim," he answered.  "What time?"

Jim looked at his watch.  It was eight-thirty now.  "Ten o'clock?"

"Sounds good.  I'll see you then."

Nicholas hung up the phone and then jumped slightly as it immediately rang again.

"Hey, buddy," greeted Max.  "How are you feeling this morning?"

"I'm okay." Nicholas smiled at the sound of his friend's voice.  "My chest is pretty sore."

"I'd say so.  You sleep okay?"

"No dreams," Nicholas answered.  "It was almost surreal after the past few days.  And no sleeping pills this time."

"Good."  Nicholas could hear the relief in Max's voice.  "So what are you up to today?"

"Jim just called.  He wants me to meet him at ten.  Just to talk, he said."

"Do you think he wants to go forward with the evaluation?" Max questioned.

"I'm not sure, Max, but if he does it's okay.  I'm ready to get back to work, and if that's what I have to do then I'm willing to do it."

Max sighed.  "All right, pal.  I guess I'll talk to you later then."

*******

When Nicholas pulled in front of Jim's condo, he was only half surprised to see Max's sports car already sitting there.  He was surprised, however, to see that Grant was with him.

Nicholas smiled and greeted them all with warm handshakes.  "What are you guys doing here?" he asked.

"Well, like we were just telling Jim, this is about all of us," Grant explained.  Nicholas started to comment, but he held up his hand.  "I know you didn't ask either of us for help, but we volunteered, and we've both witnessed these events right along with you.  So if there are any evaluations to be done, any consequences to be enforced, we all should face them together."

Nicholas' heart was warmed by the friendship and loyalty apparent in Grant's words, and he smiled his gratitude. 

Jim sighed and stood up.  "You've got to know this isn't easy for me," he said, "but I have a responsibility to the IMF to make sure that my team is healthy and capable of doing what we do."

"We understand, Jim," Nicholas said sincerely.

"I actually called Doctor Smith this morning, to let him know that you were coming today.  He's a clinical psychologist who works for the Secretary.  Now, if you don't mind talking to him, he'll be here in a few moments."

"That's fine," said Grant, after receiving nods from the others.

"Do you want to talk to him directly, or would you rather he be listening from another room?"

Nicholas sighed.  "It's up to you, Jim.  I know I'm not crazy, and none us have anything to hide from anyone."

Jim nodded his understanding.  He knew what he needed to do, but it seemed wrong, somehow, to have another entity be physically in the room with them.  So when Doctor Smith arrived, Jim showed him to the surveillance room, and then sat down in the briefing room to have a talk with his friends.

Chapter 12

"So," Jim said to Doctor Smith, "what do you think?"

For the past hour and a half, Jim had become immersed in the story of Thomas Hixson, which began with Nicholas' fleeting vision of the downed jogger and culminated with the newspaper report detailing the capture of Ralph Stiltner and the location of Hixson's body.  He had listened intently as three of his team detailed their roles in the story and submitted to facing the consequences for using IMF expertise on an unapproved "mission."

Yet, in spite of everything, and beyond the realm of human understanding, they had succeeded.

"The truth is, there isn't a logical clinical explanation for Mister Black's recurring dreams and visions, especially since we know that his first encounter with Thomas Hixson occurred twenty-four hours after his death," Doctor Smith began.  "But there is a great deal of anecdotal evidence that suggests that restless spirits can seek out humans to help them bring resolution to their deaths.  They tend to select individuals who are open-minded, intelligent, and spiritual."

"Well, that certainly would describe Nicholas," Jim nodded.

"The people who've reported these events are not prone to mental illness at all," the doctor continued, "but that's the first thing people suspect because they don't understand what's happening."

"I didn't believe him," Jim mused, "but Max and Grant did.  And I certainly wouldn't have called all three of them mentally ill."

"I'm not sure Mister Harte did believe him, at least not at first," Doctor Smith disagreed.  "But his loyalty to his friend is very strong.  For Mister Collier and his logical, scientific mind, the proof was in the newspaper article."

"What about the flashing light in the cornfield?" Jim asked.

The doctor shrugged.  "There are some things that just defy explanation," he answered.  "But everything came together just as it was supposed to."

"I've told them over and over that they're not to misuse their IMF privileges," Jim stated, "but they did so here.  I can't help but think there should be consequences for that, but I'm not sure what they need to be.  Do you have any suggestions?"

The doctor sighed.  "Mister Phelps, what Mister Black saw was only part of the puzzle.  Without Mister Collier's research, or Mister Black's mask, or the confrontation with Stiltner that they orchestrated, they never could have put all the pieces together.  Ralph Stiltner would have gotten away with two murders, and Thomas Hixson's body might never have been found."

"I just wish they'd have come to me first," Jim said.

Doctor Smith gazed into Jim's blue eyes.  "Would you have allowed it if they had asked you?"

"Of course not," he answered instantly.  And suddenly, he understood.  He sighed heavily.  "So, Doctor, in your professional opinion, is there any evidence that any of them are incapable of performing their duties as operatives for the IMF?"

The doctor smiled.  "None at all."

*******

Jim Phelps said goodbye to the doctor and walked back into the briefing room, where his three teammates were engaged in an animated conversation.  He smiled slightly to himself at how the three men, once strangers and different in so many ways, had become not just a great team, but great friends as well.

Max was the first to spot him.  "So what's the verdict, Jim?" he asked. 

Jim noted that there was no trace of worry on any of their faces.  Whatever was going to happen, they would face it together.

"The doctor gave each of you a clean bill of health," Jim answered, and watched as his three teammates exchanged wide grins.  "But," Jim continued, holding up his hand and causing their smiles to fade, "I'm still not at peace with the fact that you used IMF resources without proper authorization.  There really should be consequences for that."

Then the elder agent smiled slightly.  "But I know that it was absolutely necessary, and that in doing so you saved one life and brought a killer to justice."

"Not to mention preserving my sanity," murmured Nicholas.

Jim nodded.  "Yes, Nicholas, I have no doubt of that," he stated flatly, looking first into the eyes of the dark-haired agent, then of the other teammates.  "I appreciate the two of you giving your support to Nicholas, because I didn't, and I am not going to take any negative action at this time.  But if this happens again, there will be intervention by the Secretary.  Do you understand?"

The three men nodded their heads soberly.  "Don't worry, Jim," Nicholas quipped, "if the spirit world ever visits me again, I'll probably commit myself."

Jim and the others chuckled aloud.  "So does this mean that you are ready to get back to work?"

"The sooner, the better, Jim," Nicholas answered.  "There's only one more thing I need to do."

Chapter 13

Epilogue

It was a beautiful summer afternoon.

Nicholas stood off to the side, his pebble-grey suit conspicuous amid a sea of black, as a small gathering of people said their last goodbyes to Thomas Hixson.

When the ceremony was over, Nicholas fell in line behind the rest of the attendees to pay his respects to the young jogger's family.

He approached a couple in their early forties, huddled together, and extended his hand.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," he said softly.

The woman smiled at Nicholas through her tears.  "Did you know our Thomas?" she asked, as she held his hand in both of hers.

"I met him once or twice," Nicholas replied, his eyes stinging.

"Thank you for coming," she said, and then she released his hand to turn her attention to the next person in line.

Nicholas walked a few feet away from the gathering and stopped under a tall maple tree.  As he watched the crowd disperse, a gentle chirping from above caught his ear.  He looked up to see a tiny bird, perched on a low branch, ruffling its feathers.  Nicholas was captivated by the bird's striking color.

It was olive green.

Suddenly, a slight breeze began to blow.  The bird flapped its wings and took flight, and at the same time a small piece of paper drifted gently through the air and landed at Nicholas' feet.  Nicholas crouched down and picked it up.

It was a piece of brown paper bag, the kind that would come from a grocery store, with various bits of writing on the outside.  The piece that he was holding had been torn from the rest of the bag, and contained two small words.

Thank You.

Nicholas smiled and looked up toward the heavens.  "You're welcome, Thomas," he whispered, then he got into his BMW and drove away.

The End.

(c) 2017