The Migraine

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:  Nicholas brings home an unwelcome souvenir from the latest mission.

*****

The team had just returned from a week-long mission in Central America.  It was summer there, and the hot and humid climate had been nearly unbearable.  Everyone was grateful to be returning to the slightly cooler, drier air of San Francisco.

It seemed as if it had taken everyone a little while for their  body temperatures to adjust. But now, as they sat in the crisp air conditioning in the briefing room of Jim's condo, they all appeared much more relaxed.

Everyone, that is, except Nicholas.

Max tried to pay attention to Jim as he led their customary debriefing, but his eyes were focused on his teammate sitting on the couch directly across the room.  Max had watched Nicholas loosen his tie repeatedly until he finally removed it altogether.  Still, his tanned face seemed slightly flushed, and Max could discern a light sheen of perspiration covering it.  Max wasn't sure if the others had noticed - if they had, they hadn't shown any signs of it - but he was planning on talking to his friend after the debriefing.  Just to make sure he was okay.

As soon as the discussion ended and the four younger agents were dismissed, Grant and Shannon walked out together, with Nicholas a few steps behind them and Max at the rear.  But before Max could call out to the dark-haired agent, Nicholas suddenly swayed to his right, grabbing the door frame to catch himself.

Max's pace quickened.  In an instant, he'd caught up with Nicholas and laid a hand on the shorter man's left shoulder.

"Hey, buddy, you okay?" Max looked at Nicholas with concern.

Nicholas looked sideways at the blond agent, then he forced an embarrassed smile.  "I'm fine, Max," he assured him, though he wasn't very convincing.

"Are you sure?"

"It's probably just a migraine," Nicholas answered, as the two resumed walking toward Nicholas' car.  "I don't think the heat in Panama agreed with me."

Max frowned.  "Maybe I should drive you home, then," he offered.

Nicholas patted Max's upper arm fondly.  "I appreciate it, Max," he smiled, "but I'll be all right.  It isn't very far."

"Okay, then, if you're sure," Max relented, opening the car door for his friend.  "But call me later and let me know how you're doing."

"I will," Nicholas promised,  "but it'll probably be later this evening.  Once I take some painkillers, I'll sleep for a few hours."

Max nodded.  "Be careful," he advised, as he closed the car door and watched his friend drive off toward his apartment.  Then, quickly, Max mounted his motorcycle and sped off in the same direction.

*****

Once Nicholas pulled out of Jim's driveway, leaving his concerned friend behind, his forced smile faded and his brow furrowed.  His head was pounding and spinning, and he could barely focus on the road ahead.  He was starting to wish now that he had let Max drive him home, but he hadn't wanted to trouble him.  Besides, he'd had migraines before.  All he needed was some painkillers and a few hours' rest in his cool, dark apartment and he'd be good as new.

But even as he felt the familiar stomach churning that was typical of his occasional migraines, he sensed that this one was somehow different from the others.  He had to work especially hard to overcome the dizziness and keep the BMW on his side of the road.  Just a few more miles now, he coaxed himself.  Just a few more miles.

Then, a searing pain jabbed at his skull as he approached a traffic light.  Through squinted eyes, he could see the light in the distance, the green ball turning to yellow, the cars ahead of him slowing.  He knew that meant he was supposed to do something, but what?

Too late, he realized with sudden horror that he was supposed to stop the car.  He jerked his foot off the gas and stomped the brake.  The abrupt action sent the BMW into a front spin, missing the cars ahead of him but careening off the road and into a nearly telephone pole.  But Nicholas was unconscious even before the moment of impact.

*****

Max and his motorcycle fell in behind Nicholas as he started toward home, trying not to let his concern for his teammate get the better of him. He knew that Nicholas suffered from occasional migraines.  But, thankfully, they didn't hit him very often or seem to last very long.  Nicholas seemed convinced that was what this was; Max hoped he was right.

Max reached his turn first, but in a split second decision he chose to keep going straight instead.  At least, he could see for himself that Nicholas got home safely.

Max's stomach lurched as he watched Nicholas' BMW drift slowly toward the center line and then jerk back again.  Damn it, he thought.  I should have taken him home.  He started to pull closer and motion Nicholas to stop, but decided to wait a moment.  There was a traffic light up ahead, and from the looks of things it was going to turn red. Once Nicholas stopped, Max would make his friend pull off the road.

Max watched as the green light changed to yellow and the cars ahead of Nicholas began to slow.  He gunned his engine, preparing to roll up beside his friend. But then he came to a horrible realization.

"He's not stopping!"  Max yelled out loud.  "Nicholas, stop!" he screamed in vain, then watched in horror as his friend's car veered sharply to the right and straight into a nearby telephone pole.

Max skidded the bike to a halt and dismounted almost before it stopped. He raced to the driver's side of the wrecked BMW, where Nicholas was slumped over the steering wheel.

"Nicholas!"  Max called, as he reached his hand through the open window and hastily felt for a pulse.  It was present, though somewhat irregular.  Max sighed in relief.

He didn't want to move his friend, but his eyes quickly scanned for injuries.  He could see little more than various cuts and scrapes, other than a nasty bruise on the right side of Nicholas' forehead where it had no doubt bounced off the steering wheel.  Max knew there was probably a concussion, but prayed it wasn't more serious than that.

"Hang on, Nicholas," Max coaxed his teammate.  "Just hang on."

After what seemed like an eternity, Max could hear the sound of sirens approaching him.  First the ambulance, then the police.  Max watched the ambulance crew carefully extricate Nicholas and load him into the squad as he gave his eyewitness statement to law enforcement.  Then, hastily, he got on his bike and sped off toward the hospital.

*****

By the time Max arrived, emergency room staff had already whisked Nicholas off to do a battery of tests.  Max was asked to provide some basic information and sign some forms, then directed to wait until the doctor emerged to speak with him.

Max found a payphone in the lobby and dialed a familiar number.

"This is Jim Phelps."

"Jim, it's Max," came the response.  "I'm at the hospital.  Nicholas has been in a car crash."

"What?" cried Jim incredulously.  "How is he?"

"I don't know yet," answered Max.  "They're still doing tests."

"I'll get a hold of the others and meet you there in half an hour," Jim assured him.  "You can fill us in then."

*****

"Max, have you heard anything?" demanded Shannon, as she, Grant, and Jim burst through the emergency room doors.

Max shook his head, then caught sight of a man in a white coat walking toward them.  "I think we're just about to," he advised, nodding toward the figure.

Max slipped his arm around Shannon as the four friends waited in silence.

"Friends of Mister Black?" the doctor inquired as he drew closer.

"That's right," answered Max.  "How's he doing?"

"He's holding his own," the doctor assured them.  "The injuries he sustained in the crash were relatively minor, considering.  A few cuts and bruises here and there.  No broken bones."

"But he has a concussion, right?" Max guessed, recalling the ugly bruise on his friend's forehead.

"Yes, but a very mild one."

Jim's brow furrowed.  "So he should be fine."

The doctor sighed.  "We put Mister Black through a bunch of tests," he responded.  "Some of the results were... different from what we expected."

"How so?" asked Grant impatiently.

"Well, his blood work showed an elevated white blood cell count.  Like he was fighting off an infection of some sort."

"He had some respiratory stuff going on a couple of weeks ago," offered Max.  "He was on antibiotics.  Could that explain it?"

The doctor shook his head.  "This is current," he said, "and didn't make sense to us.  So we did a lumbar puncture and an MRI."  The doctor's voice dropped slightly in pitch.  "Your friend has encephalitis."

"Wait, his brain is swelling?" Grant cried out in panicked disbelief.

The doctor nodded slightly but held up his hand.  "Relax," he soothed, as he saw the other three team members' eyes widen in shock.  "We caught it early and we're treating it aggressively with medications.  It should resolve on its own without any kind of surgical intervention.  We're keeping Mister Black in a coma for right now, so his brain can rest and heal, but we think we can start bringing him out of it in a day or two."

"But what could have caused it?" Jim wanted to know.

"He complained of dizziness right before the crash," murmured Max.  "Said he thought it was a migraine."

"That could have been the onset of symptoms," agreed the doctor, "and we think we know the cause.  When one of the nurses was cleaning his wounds earlier, she found what looks to be a tick bite on his lower leg."

"A tick bite?"  chorused Grant and Shannon.

The doctor nodded. "Has Mister Black been to any foreign countries in the past couple of weeks?"

"He just got back from Panama," answered Jim. "Business trip."  He cringed as he thought about the long hours that Nicholas and Max had spent in the foxhole, susceptible to all sorts of crawling and flying things.

The doctor nodded.  "Central American ticks can carry a number of illnesses," he informed them, "and with his immune system already compromised, it would have been easy for one to get a hold of him.  Fortunately, only one or two are actually life-threatening.  But this information will help us narrow the scope of our antibiotics we're using to treat him." The doctor smiled.  "He's going to be just fine.  You all can see him if you want, but just a couple at a time and only for a few moments."

"Thank you, Doctor," Jim said gratefully, and gave the doctor a warm handshake.  Then he turned to Max.

"Why don't you and Shannon go in first?" he suggested.  "Grant and I will follow."

But the blond agent looked troubled.  His head was bowed, his eyes downcast.  "I shouldn't have let him drive," he chided himself.

"Max," said Jim gently, laying a fatherly hand on Max's shoulder, "the crash didn't cause the encephalitis.  And if you had taken him home to take a pain pill and go to sleep..."

He might not have ever woken up again.  Though Jim left the rest of the sentence unspoken, it finished itself inside Max's head.  Hot tears stung the blond agent's eyes as he felt the full weight of those words.  He blinked furiously for a few seconds.  Then, his voice a half-whisper, he said:

"Jim, you and Grant go on ahead.  I...need a minute."  Then Max rushed into the nearby men's room.

Grant and Jim looked uncertain, but Shannon reassured them with a smile as she stood sentry across from the men's room door.  "It's all right," she smiled.  "Go.  I'll take care of Max."

With that, the two men turned and entered Nicholas' room, and Shannon waited for Max to finish up.  A few moments later, he emerged.

"Are you okay?" she asked quietly, squeezing his hand.

"Yeah," he replied softly, slinging an arm around her waist in gratitude, as they waited for their turn with their fallen teammate.

*****

There was little the teammates could do for Nicholas, other than sit quietly with him and touch his hand.  But Jim took the team off mission rotation, and for the next three days they took turns sitting at his bedside.  A repeat MRI on the third day showed that his brain swelling had subsided, and the doctors began to remove the sedative that was keeping him asleep.

Max and Shannon were at Nicholas' bedside when he began to stir and moan slightly.  Max reached out to grasp his hand.

"Hey, buddy," he said quietly, as Nicholas' eyes fluttered, then opened and settled on his friend.

"Max," Nicholas whispered.

"I'll get the nurse," Shannon offered, and she rushed out of the room as Max nodded, then turned his attention back to his teammate.

"How do you feel, buddy?" Max inquired.

Nicholas hesitated.  Clearly, he was in a hospital, but he didn't remember how he got there or why he was there.  And, for the most part, he didn't feel badly enough to be there.

His eyes narrowed.  "My head feels a little funny," he admitted.  "Otherwise, I feel okay.  What am I doing here?"

Just then, the nurse came in to run some checks on the now-conscious agent, and Max reluctantly released Nicholas' hand in order to get out of her way.  "It's all right, Nicholas.  I'll be right back, and then we'll talk."

By the time the nurse was finished with her checks, Grant and Jim had arrived at the hospital, having being sunmoned by Shannon's news that Nicholas was awake.  The four friends gathered around Nicholas' bedside.

"What am I doing here?" Nicholas repeated.  "The last thing I remember is leaving the condo with a migraine."

Max explained how he'd followed Nicholas' car and watched it waver and then crash into the pole.

"I don't remember any of that," Nicholas said slowly.  "And I don't feel like I was in a car crash."

"The doctor thinks you were unconscious when you crashed the car," advised Jim.  "That's why your injuries weren't so severe."

"But why?" Nicholas questioned.  "It was just a migraine."

"It wasn't a migraine, pal," corrected Grant, then he gently told Nicholas what his diagnosis had been.  When he was finished, Nicholas was silent for a long moment.

"Are you all right, Nicholas?" Shannon asked softly, when the moment had stretched long enough to raise concern.

Nicholas nodded.  "I remember the tick bite," he said quietly.  "I picked it off at the hotel when we got out of that foxhole."

"Four days before your headache started," confirmed Max.

"I had no idea it could turn into something so serious," he continued.  "I just thought it was a migraine."

"It's all right, Nicholas," reassured Jim, patting the dark-haired agent's shoulder fondly.  "The doctor says you'll be out of here in a day or two."

The team made small talk into the late evening.  They were all present when the doctor came in and announced that Nicholas would be released the next day to continue his recovery at home.  Max volunteered to come to the hospital early the next morning to await his teammate's release.  Then they all bid Nicholas good night.

*****

The next morning, when Nicholas awoke, Max was already sitting beside his bed, reading a magazine.

"Good morning, Max."

"Hey, pal," Max returned with a grin, grasping his buddy's hand and giving it a firm shake. "How are you feeling?"

"Ready to get out of here," Nicholas grinned back at him.

"I bet so."

Max began to scurry around the room, packing up what few personal items he could find, but then Nicholas interrupted him.

"Max."

The blond looked at him curiously, and Nicholas patted the side of his bed closest to Max's chair.  "Come sit with me a minute.  I need to talk to you."

Max did as he was told, but there was concern in his eyes.  "You okay?" he asked as he sat down.

"I'm fine," Nicholas assured him.  "I just wanted to thank you..."  His voice trailed off for a moment.  "...for the other day."

"But, Nicholas," Max protested, "I didn't do anything."

"You tried to help me," Nicholas reminded him.  "Followed me home.  Stayed with me till the ambulance came."  Nicholas' soft brown eyes met Max's bright blue ones.  "Gave the doctor information that helped him treat me.  Kept watch by my bedside.  In my book, that's a lot."

Max's face flushed slightly at his friend's gratitude.  "I'm just glad everything turned out all right, Nicholas," he responded quietly.  "It almost didn't."

"I guess the car accident was a blessing in disguise," Nicholas mused soberly.  "If I had made it home, I'd have taken something and gone to sleep."

"I know," answered Max with a slight shudder, "and that thought scares the hell out of me."

Touched by his friend's concern, Nicholas laid a hand on Max's forearm.  "I guess we all just have to be more careful about things from now on," he promised, smiling slightly.

"Deal," Max replied, laying his hand on top of Nicholas', his face curling into that familiar sideways grin.

Then the room became a flurry of activity as Max resumed his task and the nurses came in to get Nicholas ready to go home.

The End

(c) 2020