The Perfect Storm

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:  A bizarre set of circumstances leads Nicholas to question everything.

Chapter 1

The news came in a way that was unusual -- and unprecedented.

A call, directly from the Secretary, urging Jim to gather his team and be ready to board a plane for the Middle East in two hours.

There would be no trip to a predetermined location, to engage in codespeak with an undercover operative, to view the information on the tiny disc and start formulating the plan even before calling in the others.  There would be no briefing scene at the condo that served as headquarters.

Time was of the essence. They had to be there by this time tomorrow. They should have been there already.

All of the information they would need would be waiting for them at the safe house that the IMF would finish arranging during the twenty-one hour flight.

There was no time to waste.

First, Jim called Shannon, who was staying at her sister's place this week, knowing that she was a little farther away from the airport and would be coming in from the other direction. She recognized his number, picked up on the first ring, and promised she would leave right away.

The next team member Jim tried to call was Nicholas.
There was no answer. Just three rings and a beep.

"Nicholas, we have urgent business. Grab your bag and meet us at the airport at six o'clock." A pause. "I hope you get this message."

Jim pressed his finger on the switch to break the connection, released it, and started to dial the number to his teammate's car phone. It wasn't until he heard the "out of service" message that he remembered. The car phone had malfunctioned a week ago, and the new one was not due to arrive for several more days.

Jim cursed softly as he hung up, wishing not for the first time that he had allowed -- directed -- his agents to keep their communicators in their possession, especially for moments like this. But this kind of thing usually didn't happen. They almost always had at least one day's notice of a mission, and each agent was instructed to check their messages at least once every twenty-four hours. In all their years of running missions, there had never been an issue.

Until now.

Jim picked up the phone again and dialed the next number on his list.

"Hey, Jim."

"Grant," Jim greeted, his voice taut. "We have an urgent mission. Grab your bag. Our plane leaves at six o'clock."

Grant glanced at his watch instinctively. "That's less than two hours from now. Have you called the others?"

"Shannon's on her way. I tried Nicholas, but he didn't pick up," Jim answered. "I hope he gets the message in time. I still need to call Max."

"I'll run by Nick's place on my way there," Grant offered, "just to make sure. See you in a bit."

*****

Grant pulled into Nicholas' apartment complex and stopped in front of unit thirty-three. He frowned. There was no sign of Nicholas' black BMW.

For a moment, the Black agent had a troubling thought that Nicholas might be away somewhere, and hadn't gotten the message at all. But there were no classes today at Cavanaugh University, where Nicholas taught drama. And with Nicholas being the homebody that everybody knew he was, there's really nowhere else he would have gone.

Except maybe the grocery store, Grant thought suddenly, but he could check on that.

He scrambled to find a scrap piece of paper and a pen. He hastily scribbled a note for Nicholas, then grabbed some putty from the glove box, got out of the car, and rushed to fasten the note to his teammate's door. He pressed hard on the putty till it seemed secure, then got back into his Lexus and drove away.

Grant made a quick detour through the parking lots of Nicholas' usual haunts but saw no sign of his car anywhere. Reasoning that he likely got Jim's message and was already on his way, he sped toward the airport.

*****

Jim dialed Max's number, and upon making the connection repeated the same information he'd shared thrice before.

"Right, Jim," Max acknowledged. "Do you need me to call anyone?"

"I've spoken with Shannon and Grant," Jim replied. "I couldn't reach Nicholas. Grant's going to stop by there on his way in."

"Gotcha," replied Max. "See you soon."

*****

Max was on his way to the airport when he absently noted that he was approaching the turnoff to Nicholas' apartment. He recalled what Jim had said -- that Grant was going to swing by to make sure Nicholas knew about the mission -- and started to keep driving. But at the last minute, he changed his mind.

It couldn't hurt.

Nicholas' BMW was not in the driveway. That probably meant that he was already on his way. Still, he had a little time to make doubly sure.

Max parked his red sportscar and walked to the front door. He knocked once, not expecting anyone to answer, then reached under the mat to retrieve the spare key. He let himself in and took a look around.

It was customary on missions for Nicholas to be well-dressed, and Max knew that he kept a special garment bag hanging in his closet just for that purpose. It went with him on every mission, but the dark-haired agent refused to store it in his car like the others did with their overnight bags. Max had been to his home enough to know exactly where he kept it. He dashed up the stairs two at a time, went into his friend's bedroom -- trying to stifle the feeling that he was invading Nicholas' privacy -- and opened up the closet. The bag was gone, and a few of his suits seemed to be missing.

Max cast a glance at Nicholas' answering machine on his way out and saw the red light, steadily burning.

That settles it, then.

Clearly, Nicholas had heard Jim's message, retrieved his garment bag, and was now on his way to the airport.

Locking the front door behind him and returning the key to its hiding place, Max climbed into his sportscar and drove away, failing to notice the small piece of paper, putty attached, flapping in the swift breeze on the ground to the left of the welcome mat.

*****

Jim and Shannon arrived at the airport at almost the same time. A few moments later, Grant came into view.

"Where's Nicholas?" he asked, his voice tense.

"We haven't seen him," answered Shannon.

"His car wasn't at his place. I left a note on his door," advised Grant. "I assumed he had heard your message and found his way here."

"You mean he's not here yet?" panted Max, walking up just in time to hear Grant's last comment and trying unsuccessfully to stuff the knot of tension that had begun to form in his gut.

Jim and Grant both shook their heads. "I even checked the grocery store and his favorite coffee shop. No sign of him," Grant confirmed.

"Well, he definitely heard your message, Jim, and his garment bag is missing," Max reported. Jim and Grant both stared at him quizzically, and Grant raised an eyebrow. "I stopped by, too," Max admitted, by way of explanation. "I didn't see his car, but I took a look inside anyway."

"Did you see my note?"

"What note?" Max asked, confused.

"The one I left on Nick's front door," Grant explained.

Max shook his head. "There was no note on the door when I was there."

"Then where the hell could he be?" Grant wondered.

"I don't like this," Max grumbled, concern heavy in his voice. "We've gotta find him."

Max turned around and went walking back the way he had just come, but Jim broke his silence and reached out to grab Max's shoulder.

"There's no time," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "We have a job to do."

"But we can't just leave him behind, Jim," Grant protested. "We need his help."

"We don't have a choice," Jim advised, his voice quiet. "We'll just have to do the best we can."

"And what if he's missing, Jim? Huh?" Max demanded, standing toe to toe with Jim, his words urgent and his voice a mix of concern and anger. "What if something's happened to him?"

"That's not likely, Max," Grant answered, in a tone that was meant to be reassuring. "I just talked to him this morning. He was fine."

"We'll find him when we get back," Jim said coolly. "This mission is of critical importance. We have to go, Max. Now."

Grant cast a sympathetic glance at Max, knowing that they had no choice but to yield to their team leader. The mission would always come first. "Come on, pal," he said softly, laying a gentle hand on Max's shoulder.

Max sighed heavily, and then he and the others walked toward the gate and prepared to board the plane.

Chapter 2

Nicholas was relaxing on the sofa, sipping on some Irish tea and reading a book, when the ringing phone startled him. He tossed his reading material aside and rose to answer it, figuring it was either Jim or Max since he'd already spoken with Grant earlier this morning.

"Hello?"

"Mister Black," came the authoritative voice of the Dean of Cavanaugh University.

"Dean Winters," Nicholas greeted in surprise. Cavanaugh was closed today. I wonder what's going on, he mused, but before he could verbalize the question Dean Winters spoke again.

"There's been a sudden development in personnel," the Dean advised, his voice taut. "I'm calling an emergency meeting. Are you able to come?"

"Of course, I'll be there," Nicholas responded.

"Good," Dean Winters acknowledged. "I'll see you at noon."

Nicholas hung up the phone and checked his watch, realizing that it was already nearly eleven. If he was going to get to Cavanaugh on time, he needed to get ready now. Hastily, he grabbed his things and headed out, ignoring the fleeting thought that he should call Jim to let him know where he'd be, just in case.

*****

A little after two o'clock, Nicholas emerged from the faculty meeting. He still couldn't wrap his head around the things they had discussed -- events that had led to the termination and arrest of a long-tenured faculty member. This meeting had been Dean Winters' effort to inform the remaining faculty and initiate damage control maneuvers to protect Cavanaugh's reputation. It had been difficult for all, but especially for Nicholas, who had considered the disgraced professor a friend.

Nicholas decided to stop by the dry cleaners on the way back to his apartment, reasoning that the suits he'd worn on their previous mission were probably clean and ready for pickup. His hunch had been correct. Laying his garment bag gently across the backseat of his BMW, Nicholas started toward home.

He had only gone a few miles when he noticed that traffic had stopped and was quickly backing up in front of him. While he couldn't see exactly what was happening, he did spot an ugly plume of black smoke rising toward the sky.

Nicholas' stomach lurched. Probably a car accident, then, and his eyebrows furrowed. His thoughts were somewhere between vague concern for the parties involved and exasperation at how his day had turned out. He had hoped to spend a quiet day at home, concluded perhaps with an impromptu gathering of his teammates -- his friends -- for dinner and conversation, as was customary.   That kind of spontaneity, the kind that came with missions and friendships, was something he welcomed.

This....this was something different.

Nearly an hour passed before Nicholas noticed that the traffic in front of him was beginning to move, albeit at a snail's pace. A half mile ahead, an officer was standing in the middle of the highway, diverting traffic down a side road to the right. It was one that Nicholas had not taken before.

"Great," he muttered aloud, wondering how far out of the city it would take him.

With no map to go by, Nicholas had little choice but to follow the flow of traffic, theorizing that eventually he would return to familiar ground. Each time he came to a fork in the road, he'd have to make an educated guess as to which direction to proceed -- usually influenced by whichever one the most traffic seemed to favor. As time passed and the road stretched on, he noticed with discouragement that there were fewer and fewer cars in front of him until finally there was only one. Then, dejectedly, Nicholas watched that car turn into a driveway in the residential suburb where he now found himself.

He was lost.

Nicholas cursed to himself.  Of all the times for his car phone to be out of service, why did it have to be now?

He was contemplating stopping at the next house and asking for directions back to the city when he suddenly felt the car lurch violently forward, and the lights on the instrument panel faded to black.

"Bloody hell," he swore, as he managed to steer the BMW only a couple feet more before it came to a complete stop.

He tried desperately to restart the car, to no avail. After a few moments, he again cursed the fact that he was without a phone and resigned himself to walking to the nearest residence, a quarter mile away.

I hope they're friendly, Nicholas thought to himself as he knocked. Presently, a man around his own age opened the door.

"May I help you sir?" he asked, eyeing Nicholas' suit and tie with a hint of suspicion.

"Yes," the agent answered, forcing a smile. "I'm so sorry to bother you. But my car has broken down just up the road. May I please use your phone to call a tow truck?"

"Sure," the man responded, returning his smile, "but if you like I can try to boost you off first. I've got some cables."

Nicholas found himself nodding, then climbing into the passenger seat of the man's pickup truck. He drove them to the place where Nicholas had left his stalled car, maneuvering his own until the two vehicles were nose to nose.

Nicholas watched with only the slightest of trepidation as the man hooked up the jumper cables, then restarted his truck.

"See if it'll start," he ordered.

Nicholas sat down in the driver's seat and turned the key. To his surprise, it started immediately. Nicholas climbed out of his vehicle and reached for the stranger's hand.

"Thank you so much," he grinned.

"It's probably either your battery or the alternator," the man advised, a serious expression on his face. "Maybe both. Don't turn it off till you get it to a mechanic. Otherwise, it might not start again."

Nicholas' face fell. "I'm afraid I don't know how to get back to the city," he admitted sheepishly. "There was a detour from the main highway and I....must have taken a wrong turn somewhere."

The stranger's face curled into a wide smile. "Happens all the time," he said reassuringly. "If you follow this road about three more miles it will bring you right back to the main highway."

"Thank you again." Nicholas reached for his wallet to offer the man some money for his help, but he politely declined.

"Save that for your mechanic," he quipped. "Drive safe now."

And with that, Nicholas got back into the still-running car and set off toward the city.

******

By the time Nicholas reached the BMW dealership, the service department was about to close for the day. Luckily, he was able to secure a loaner to drive until his own could be checked out and repaired.

He returned to his apartment just after six o'clock, tired and frustrated that the day had gotten away from him. He retrieved his garment bag from the backseat of the loaner and unlocked the front door.

As soon as he laid his clothing on the back of the sofa, he glanced toward his answering machine, expecting to see the blinking red light indicating that one or more of his friends had tried to call while he was away.

The light was burning steady.

That's odd, Nicholas thought absently. Sure, he'd spoken with Grant this morning, but it was rare to go the entire evening without hearing from at least one of them.

Maybe they didn't bother to leave a message, he mused.
He picked up the phone and quickly checked the caller ID. Only one call from Jim, a couple of hours ago. He dialed Max's number, but he was not really surprised when the answering machine picked up.

He's probably out riding, Nicholas reasoned, knowing how much Max enjoyed being on his motorcycle, and Grant's probably with him. Shannon is likely still at her sister's. But surely Jim is at home.

Nicholas found himself dialing the number of his team leader, longing to speak with someone, if only to vent about the events of the day. But Jim likewise did not answer.

Nicholas frowned.  He supposed Jim could be out gathering information for a new mission, though it wasn't like him to do so this late in the evening. Impulsively, he dialed Grant's number, just for curiosity's sake, but as he suspected he got the same result.

Nicholas saw no point in leaving messages for anyone. He'd probably talk to them tomorrow. As for today, he would spend the rest of his evening the way he'd planned to spend it all along -- relaxing with a good book and a cup of Irish tea.

*******

The next morning, Nicholas was up early to face a full day of classes at Cavanaugh. It was nearly five o'clock when he finally climbed into the white loaner vehicle and headed toward home.

Having traveled this route many times, he didn't give much thought to the journey until he realized that he was approaching the turnoff to Max's condo. Almost involuntarily, he found himself making the familiar right turn, eager to see his teammate and friend.

But when he got to the condo, he noticed that Max's red sportscar was gone.

Vaguely disappointed, Nicholas didn't even bother to get out of the car. Instead, he continued driving until he reached his own place.

The first thing he did was check his phone, certain that someone would have called him by now. But there were no new calls, and the answering machine light was still burning steady. Another round of attempts to call Grant, Jim, and Shannon went unanswered.

Nicholas was unable to ignore the knot that had started to form in the pit of his stomach. It was so unusual for everyone to be unavailable at the same time -- unless, of course, they were on a mission.

But that couldn't be the case. He was still here.

Jim would know what was happening, he reasoned. And if Jim wasn't home, he was likely at team headquarters. But rather than attempt another call, the dark-haired agent decided once again to take a drive.

******

Nicholas pulled up in front of the condo that served as the team's headquarters. The parking lot was empty. It didn't
really surprise him that the others weren't there, but it was odd that Jim wasn't, either.

Thinking he must be off doing research for a new mission, Nicholas started to leave. But he suddenly felt a compelling urge to go inside, to see if he could find any information as to what kind of mission might be waiting in the wings.

Or, at least, where the others might be.

Nicholas, like the others, had a key to the building, though he didn't have to use it often because Jim was always around. He fumbled with the key ring until he found it, then carefully inserted it into the knob and turned.

The place was pristine, as Jim always kept it -- even the corner where the mask-making kit and Grant's suitcase of supplies always sat, waiting for the next mission.

They were gone.

A surge of anxiety pierced Nicholas' chest as he jerked open the drawer that housed their communicators when they were not in use.

They were also gone. All five of them.

Stunned, Nicholas' knees buckled as he collapsed into a nearby chair, with the crushing realization that his team had gone on a mission without him. And other than that single call from Jim yesterday -- in which no message was left -- nobody had even bothered to let him know.

Nicholas sat there for an untold amount of time, with the same single sentence running through his head.

They left without me.

At some point, he realized that night had fallen. Mindlessly, he locked up the condo, got into the loaner vehicle, and
turned toward home. He took one last look at the answering machine, not surprised that the light was still burning steady, and went straight upstairs to bed. He had no way of knowing how long he laid there, contemplating how terribly sideways the past two days had gone, until sleep finally claimed him.

*******

Over the next few days, the situation in which Nicholas found himself was never too far from his thoughts, his analytical mind picking it apart in the free hours between daily tasks, classes at Cavanaugh, and picking up his BMW once the dealership replaced both the battery and the alternator.

He didn't understand it.

Normally, they had at least twenty-four hours' notice before having to report for a mission. Jim insisted on that, since most of them had other responsibilities outside of mission work. Yes, Nicholas had been gone for several hours on Thursday, but there should have been plenty of time for Jim to call him back.

Nicholas' brow furrowed. He supposed it was possible that they would have gotten called out without the typical notice, if it had been an emergency. But that was unprecedented. And besides that, there had been no calls from anyone except Jim.

Once. No message.

Surely, if it had been an emergency, the others would have tried to call as well. But no one else had even called, much
less left messages.

Maybe they hadn't been home to call, Nicholas reasoned. But if that were the case, why didn't they stop by? Leave a note on the door? At least then, if he'd missed them while he was out and about, he would have understood what was going on. As it was, he still didn't have a clue, and wouldn't know until his teammates returned from wherever they had gone.

If they were still his teammates, Nicholas thought ruefully. After all, Jim had only called once, and the mask-making kit was gone. One attempt, and then move on to the next agent -- is that what this was? It didn't seem likely. But then again, nothing about this made sense, and even Nicholas' analytical brain couldn't work it out.

Chapter 3

The past week had been tough on all of them. With one of their own absent, the four agents had had to fill in the
gaps, sometimes by playing multiple parts, in one of the most perilous countries in the Middle East. They were so busy -- and so on guard -- that there was no time to worry about what might be going on with Nicholas back home.

Max had done his fair share of worrying on the plane ride out. While the rest of the team took advantage of the twenty-one hour flight to rest up for the task ahead, Max was wide awake every time anyone noticed, usually with his chin in his hands and a brooding look on his face.

Jim watched until Max got up from his seat and walked toward the restroom, then he followed and was waiting when Max opened the door.  Max, knowing what was coming, was only mildly surprised to see him there.

"Max," Jim began softly, laying a fatherly hand on the blond man's shoulder, "we are about to begin a very dangerous
assignment. You've got to get some rest."

Max said nothing, his blue eyes averting Jim's gaze. Jim gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"I know you're worried about Nicholas," he added, though for once his voice held no contempt. He knew it was pointless -- pointless to argue, thousands of feet above the ground, and pointless to expect that Max wouldn't worry. "But you have to focus. It's the only way we are going to stay alive."

Somewhat startled by the tone of Jim's comment, Max's eyes met his leader's. "I'll try, Jim," he promised, his voice barely audible.

"For what it's worth, I think he's fine. But I do wish he was here." Jim smiled and patted Max's upper arm before returning to his seat.

Max followed suit, then lay back and closed his eyes. Sleep may or may not come, but at least he could rest up
for the difficult mission ahead.

Now, as they headed back toward the States, there was nothing to stop Max's mind from worrying about his friend, though he tried his best not to let it show. The only thing that mattered was that Nicholas was all right. They could work through everything else later.

As soon as Max made it through customs, he rushed to the pay phone near the gate and dialed Nicholas' number. He held his breath as it started to ring.

*******

Nicholas was standing in the shower, letting the warmth of the water soak in, when he thought he heard something. At
first, he ignored the noise, but eventually curiosity got the better of him and he reached over to turn off the water.
He poked his head out from behind the shower curtain and listened intently.

Nothing.

Shrugging, he turned the water back on, finished his shower, then dressed in casual clothing. It was Thursday. No classes today.

He started down the stairs and cast a cursory glance at his answering machine. The light was still burning steady.

He didn't bother to check the caller ID. If it had been the phone he'd heard while in the shower, and if it had been
one of his teammates calling,  surely they'd have left a message. He marveled, not for the first time, at how quiet that machine had been since his friends had been out of touch. Sadly, he pondered how empty his social life would be if his team had decided to move on without him.

*******

"There's no answer," Max reported, his voice tense, as his other three teammates looked on. "And the machine didn't
pick up."

"What the hell's going on?" wondered Grant, his tone matching Max's.

"What should we do, Jim?" asked Shannon, her own voice anxious now.

"I'm going to his place," resolved Max. "If he is missing, that'll be the best place to start our search."

"We're coming with you," vowed Jim, still stoic but with a hint of nervousness peeking through.

Presently the four of them -- each in his or her own vehicle -- filed out of the airport parking lot heading toward
Nicholas' apartment, with Max and his red sportscar in the lead.

*******

Half an hour later, Nicholas was reading the morning newspaper when he saw a flash of light reflecting off a car
window, and simultaneously heard the sound of multiple vehicle tires scraping the asphalt. He laid his paper down
and looked outside. Instantly, he recognized Max's sportscar, and in the next second he realized that his other three colleagues were also here in their respective vehicles.

For a moment, reassurance washed over him. At least they're all safe, he thought.

But in the next moment, a feeling of dread creeped into his consciousness. They had all been to his place at the same time before. But not like this. Not in separate cars. It didn't even cross Nicholas' mind that they could all be coming from the airport -- they had never taken four cars there before.  Instead, he assumed the worst.

Were they coming to confront him? Or, worse, to break the news that he was no longer on the team?

Nicholas opened the door just as Max and the others reached him, and what came out of his mouth, almost involuntarily, was cynicism.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Nicholas said sardonically.

Max, relieved from the moment he had seen the familiar BMW in the parking lot, was now doubly so upon seeing his friend standing before him.

"Thank God you're all right!" he exclaimed, ignoring Nicholas' tone and rushing up to grab him in a warm embrace. But to his surprise, Nicholas' body stiffened and he pushed the blond away.

"Of course I'm all right," Nicholas muttered in response, as the others caught up to them. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Forgive us for worrying, pal," answered Grant, "but we haven't heard from you in a week."

Nicholas stepped away from the door, making no effort to block his four companions from entering, but there was no warmth in his welcome. "Well, you're the ones who decided to go on a bloody mission without me," he growled.

"I did try to call you, Nicholas," Jim responded, his voice calm. "Didn't you get my message?"

"You didn't leave a message," the dark-haired agent said coolly. "I guess when I didn't answer you just went on to the
next name on your list."

The bitter way Nicholas said the last word caught Max's ear, but by then he had already cast a glance at Nicholas'
answering machine and seen the red light burning steady. Max frowned. He hadn't expected the machine to be on, since he had been unable to leave a message from the airport.

He walked over and popped open the lid that covered the tiny cassette. As he picked up the cartridge, he saw that most of the tape had unwound and was lying loose inside the compartment, one section still caught in the deck of the machine.

Before Jim could protest Nicholas' accusation, he looked over to where Max was standing, and he froze. One by one, Nicholas and the others followed Jim's gaze. Slowly, a realization came into focus -- one which might help explain things.

"Maybe we could start at the beginning," Jim suggested, his voice barely audible.

"Maybe we could," Nicholas conceded, matching his tone.

Nicholas took his place in his favorite armchair, while Max took the adjacent one. Jim and the others sat down on their friend's couch, and Jim began to speak.

*******

"So you did try to reach me, Jim," Nicholas summarized, after they had been talking a while, "but I couldn't hear your message because the machine ate the tape. And I never saw the note you left," he added, turning to Grant, "but it was windy that day.  It could have blown away."

The Black agent, playing a hunch, opened Nicholas' front door and looked down in the grassy spot to the left of the mat. The small piece of paper was long gone, but he recognized a familiar substance. He picked up the piece of putty, closed the door again, and showed it to his teammates.

"Sorry, man," he said sincerely. "I should have fastened it better."

"The note must have been gone by the time you swung by, Max," Nicholas observed, his voice no longer sour, turning toward the blond agent. "I wasn't here, and my clothes were at the cleaner's."

"And you didn't get back until we were already on that plane," finished Shannon sadly.

"I'm sorry we didn't wait for you, Nicholas," said Jim sincerely.

"You couldn't," Nicholas responded instantly, now that he understood the nature of their mission. "I know that now. I'm sorry I was so hateful earlier," he continued, flashing a small grin. "I'm really glad you guys are safe."

"You don't really think that we could ever replace you, do you, pal?" questioned Max, his slight smile only vaguely concealing the incredulity of the thought.

"Not anymore," the dark-haired agent promised. "Thanks for trying to find me. I'm sorry I wasn't here."

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Nicholas saw Shannon trying to stifle a yawn.

"You guys should go," he urged. "You could all use some rest."

Jim stood up, and Nicholas did likewise. Jim cast his colleague an uncharacteristically uncertain look.

"Is everything okay between us now?" he asked.

Nicholas reached out to shake his leader's hand. "Yes," he answered. "No hard feelings."

Jim smiled and patted Nicholas' shoulder with his left hand, as the others also got to their feet.

"See you later, man." Grant flashed a pearly white grin as he shook Nicholas' hand and then grabbed him in a strong embrace.

"'Bye, Nicholas," said Shannon softly, giving him a soft hug and a quick kiss on the cheek.

"You coming, Max?" asked Jim, though there was a knowing look in his eyes.

"In a little bit," Max answered with a nod, as the three remaining team members got into their respective vehicles and drove away.

*******

Once they were gone, Nicholas looked at his friend. "What is it, Max?"

Max ran a hand through his hair and signed heavily, sitting down on the couch. "I'm sorry I couldn't find you."

Nicholas took his place on the couch beside Max, turning slightly to face him and laying a hand on his shoulder.

"It wasn't your fault, Max," he said reassuringly. "It wasn't anybody's fault. It was just a perfect storm of circumstances that led us here."

"But I can tell it hurt you," Max said quietly.

Nicholas bit his lip. Max's words -- the acknowledgment of the hell he had endured while they were gone, the part he hadn't told anyone -- hit him like a Mack truck, and his eyes began to sting. Not wishing for Max to see him this way, he got up from the couch and walked over to the window, his back to his friend.

Max unsurprisingly walked up beside him, laying his arm across both of Nicholas' shoulders. They stood there in silence for a few moments, Max offering support while patiently waiting for his friend to trust his voice enough to speak.

"You couldn't call," Nicholas finally answered, his voice nearly a whisper. "None of you could, except for Jim. I know that now. But at the time, I was afraid you just didn't want to be my friends anymore. Team or no team."

"Oh, Nicholas." Max gently turned the dark-haired agent's body until the two were facing one another. "Nothing could be further from the truth."

"I know that now, Max," Nicholas repeated with a smile, reaching up to touch Max's arm where it rested on his shoulder. Then his smile faded as he noted the look in Max's eyes.

"It doesn't sound like things were easy for you either," he said softly.

Max forced a smile. "I did my best," he quipped with a shrug.

"You always do." Nicholas grinned affectionately at his blond friend before turning serious again. "Did you really think something had happened to me?"

"Yeah, I did," Max confirmed softly. "And then I had to get on a plane and fly eight thousand miles away to a place where I couldn't reach you for a week." Max's blue eyes shimmered as they met Nicholas' own. "It scared the hell out of me."

Nicholas' stomach lurched. "I'm sorry I wasn't here," he said sadly.

"You couldn't help it," Max soothed, "and you couldn't have known. But I don't ever want to go through that again."

"Me neither, pal," Nicholas affirmed, squeezing Max's arm. "Me neither."

"You are an important part of our team, Nicholas, and my friend," Max said warmly. "I wouldn't want to do this without you."

Nicholas smiled. "Twenty years ago, agents rotated in and out all the time," he reminded the blond. "Even Jim had them take turns."

"It doesn't matter," Max insisted. "I said what I said."

"Thanks, buddy," Nicholas' grin grew a little wider as he thumped Max's shoulder affectionately.

The two friends talked for a little bit longer, then they shared a warm embrace before Max left for his condo.

Epilogue

A few hours later, Jim called everyone to team headquarters. "No mission this time," he promised. "Just a quick meeting. Then I thought maybe we could go have a nice dinner together."

Once the four junior teammates had arrived, Jim opened a drawer and took out four familiar objects -- their communicators, usually only seen during official IMF business. They watched as he handed one to each of them.

"I want you all to keep these with you, as a backup," he ordered. "Things happen. Phones fail. But I don't want any of you to ever be out of touch again."

"Thanks, Jim," Nicholas smiled. Then the team turned their attention to figuring out where to go for dinner.

The End

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