Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ethan fought desperately against Walker. Or John Lark. Or whatever his real name was. He was not going to let him win. With every movement his body seared with pain, and he was urged only by the love of the people he left in that village. He kept fighting for them and them alone. In that moment he would let the world burn, and himself with it, if it meant they would be OK.

Walker swung a strong right hook at Ethan, who, almost at his wits end, took the force of the impact square in the centre of the face. His nose was most definitely broken, but it gave him a chance to launch his counter attack whilst Walker stepped back, rubbing his knuckles. It was then Ethan kicked his feet from under him and knocked him off balance, sending him tumbling towards the edge of the cliff. Stunned and disoriented, Walker looked round frantically, while Ethan summoned the last of his strength to sprint towards him, eyes on the launch device three feet to his left. As the two men’s bodies collided, they grappled with one another, until finally Ethan threw Walker off of himself and sent him tumbling down the side of the cliff.

His attention was now fully on the launch key. Running barely on fumes, he reached out and just managed to flick the switch on his device. Just before he blacked out, he checked his watch and smiled. The last minute suited him just fine. It would be worth it when he got to tell Benji and the others the story.

Chapter Text

Benji’s mind was racing, a thousand different scenarios pummelling his mind. He tried to focus on the task at hand: find Ilsa, and find the other bomb.
He heard a scream from the next house over and pulled his gun. He burst through the wooden door and screamed, “Ilsa! Ilsa where are you!”, his voice riddled with fear. A muffled reply came from the floor above him, and he darted up the stairs two at a time.
He was frozen in place as he reached the top. Before him was Solomon Lane. The same man who strapped him up in a bomb vest and forced him to almost kill his best friend. And next to him was Ilsa, hands tied and face bruised. Tears started to form in his eyes. In an instant every ounce of repressed anger he carried came pouring out and he ran towards Lane in a blind fury.
But Lane expected this. As Benji ran, a rope snagged his ankle, sending him toppling towards the floor, his head colliding with a heavy impact. He lay dazed next to Ilsa, and could only watch in horror as he approached them. He felt Lane wrap a length of rope around his neck. It wasn’t long before his world went dark, and he could barely make out Ilsa fighting her way out of her bindings and grappling with Lane.
When he woke up he was in that same house, much to his dismay, and Ilsa was working vigorously on the second bomb.
“Ilsa,” he groaned.
“Benji thank God you’re alive, get over here and help.”
It took a great effort, but he managed to crawl across the floor and prop himself up to get a better look at the bomb. He didn’t notice Lane ties up in the corner. Or how Lane was slowly working his way out of those ties. Or his own gun lying, still loaded, just a few feet from Lane.
“How much time have we got?” he asked.
“Just under 3 minutes,” Ilsa responded, her voice becoming increasingly worried.
Benji fought to regain some cognitive function, and then set to work, guided heavily by Luther’s voice and Ilsa’s careful instruction. The clock ticked on as they worked and their hands began to shake from stress.
After perhaps the longest 3 minutes of their lives, they held their breath and cut the wires with 1 second remaining on the timer. They almost cried as the bomb slid open and the core dropped out.
They had saved the world.
Benji sighed and finally relaxed.
“Take that Lane you piece of shit,” he laughed.
He stopped laughing when he felt the cold barrel of a gun pressed against his head. His breathing became very heavy very quick.
“Turn around and look at me,” came Lane’s voice.
When he did turn around he was met with Lane’s smug face, and Ilsa knocked out, the side of her head bloody. He saw the same blood on the gun, and his insides burned with rage.
“You of all people should know that you can’t win. That Ethan can’t win. He saved the world. But he couldn’t save you. Not this time.” Lane smiled. An evil smile. He took pleasure in the defeated look on Benji’s face. He took the time to savour every last detail of that look.
A tear ran down his face as Benji prayed for Ethan to come running in at the last second like he always did. But he didn’t. Lane was right. Ethan wasn’t coming to save him this time. This was it.
A loud bang. The gentle clink of a shell casing dropping the ground. Then Benji’s body slumping forwards, blood oozing from a single shot to the head. He was dead.

Chapter Text

2 hours later

Ethan’s eyes open and his surrounds begin to come into focus. His whole body aches, a cocktail of drugs nulling the worst of the pain. People are around him, reading from charts, chatting quietly. When a nurse notices he’s awake, he ushers in the small group waiting outside the tent. Ethan smiles as he sees Julia, followed by Ilsa and Luther, but his smile drops as he sees their eyes are red, and their cheeks wet.

“What happened?” he asked, barely managing to find the air to speak.

Ilsa pulls up a chair and sits beside him, taking his hand in hers. Tears are streaming down her face. She puts her head down for a moment and searches for the right words.
“Ethan I’m so sorry. I couldn’t…” she trails off and chokes up.

Ethan starts to get agitated.

“You couldn’t what?” he demands, but his voice is shaking. “Where’s Benji?”

The mention of his name makes Julia turn away and place her head in her hands, wiping tears from her cheek.

The tent is silent for a moment. Ethan begins to connect the dots. A lump forms in his throat.

“No, no please,” he whispers. Tears begin to form in his eyes.

“Ethan I’m sorry. I couldn’t save him.”

Ilsa puts her head on Ethan’s arm, avoiding looking at his face.

“Where is he?”

No response

“Where is he?” Ethan demands again, slowly regaining some sort of strength.

“Next tent over Ethan,” Luther says. He knows better than anyone to lie to Ethan now would be a death sentence.

A wave of emotion carries Ethan as he rips the IV tubes from his arm and climbs out of the hospital bed, shakily heading for the door. No one stops him. No one could have stopped him if they tried. They just watched as he left. Everything that could have been done was done. All that was left was the fallout.

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The dirt paths are rough on Ethan’s feet, but that doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter he can barely stand, let alone walk; he has to see Benji. He has to see for himself it was true. He climbs the steps into the next tent and pauses at the entrance to catch his breath. He waits for a moment, half expecting to wake up from some horrible nightmare. But the pain of his wounds reminds him this is real.

He sees Benji’s body as soon as he opens the door. It’s lying there, cold and motionless. He moves towards in a state of utter shock. In front of him is Benji. Benjamin Dunn. With a gunshot wound to the head. Benji. Dead in front of him. He fights it, but tears start flowing uncontrollably. His best friend is dead.

And it’s his fault.

That thought spins through his minds, bringing him to his knees. His hands clench the edge of the table and brush lightly against Benji’s arm. He grits his teeth. It was his fault. He wasn’t there to help. He brought Benji on this mission. He got Benji involved in the first place.

The worst thing was he promised. He promised Benji nothing would happen. And now he was dead.

He isn’t sure what to do with the burning rage and the grief inside of him. The more he tries to push it down the more it seems to try and escape. He clenches his fists on the edge of the table until they start to bleed. His physical pain seems to melt away. All he is left with is a gaping hole in his heart.

He finds the strength to stand, to look at Benji’s face. It’s frozen in that scared expression, which only makes it worse for Ethan. Benji had died terrified and alone. Ethan was useless.

He turns away. He can’t look at Benji anymore. The image of his eternal fear would be permanently seared on the back of his eyelids. He doesn’t speak to anyone as he leaves, ignoring Julia’s questions if he’s ok, and that they’re there if he heeds them. All the voices blur into one.

He walks down the dirt road alone. The others don’t dare to follow him. They know what Benji meant. They know what Ethan is thinking now. To him there is only one choice.

Still, they silently pray he won’t. They silently beg him to turn around and come back, to be there for them just as much as they would be for him.

But nothing stops the will of a truly broken man. A man who will do anything to see his friend again.

Even if he has to die.