Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The unsettled feeling had remained even after The Entity was contained and Benji was taken away for emergency medical attention. Paris briefly considered following behind, but snapped out of it quickly, remembering her place as she absent mindedly picked at the skin on her hands. It was stained red, and for once it wasn’t an act of harming that had put the blood there. Well, the stabbing and forcing a pen into the wound probably did harm Benji, but it was for a greater good. Harm had stopped being something she tried to avoid causing, the art of caring too delicate and messy for her taste. There was an overwhelming relief when it had worked though, a camaraderie built upon a foundation of mistrust.

Gabriel had instilled that all they did was for a superior purpose. Superior not good, as goodness was irrelevant in who won. Though, Ethan seeming to accomplish the impossible over and over again had shown some evidence against that. Perhaps Gabriel wasn’t as omniscient as he liked to pretend to be.

The rest of them had been escorted back to a military base, Grace’s lack of concealment of her nervousness in the wringing of her hands and the blatant worry in her brown eyes, irritating. Grace wasn’t as experienced, it’s fine. The niggling feeling in the back of her head remained, that Grace should be still and silent, like her, a blank canvas to be made into a weapon-

(Gabriel had made sure to try strip her of any past attachments or morals for that matter, given her a purpose and freedom in the form of violence. It didn’t mean she didn’t envy Grace and those who seemed to let their fear, their empathy and their joy be shown freely. In an odd way, she had admired Grace’s willingness to go along with the IMF when it had been predictable initially that she would put herself first.)

“Ethan!” Grace exclaimed, no longer fidgeting and her expression relieved as she sped up to meet Ethan, who was limping but surprisingly uninjured. Paris stayed back, watching them with the growing unsettled feeling in her gut. It wasn’t a knife in her gut this time at the very least, she preferred stabbing to being stabbed naturally. Had Ethan stabbed Gabriel? Had he made it hurt? Paris would’ve made it hurt.

Briefly she considered that he may still be alive, but she knew better. The confirmation later wouldn’t stifle the unsettled feeling either.

“Are you ok?” Degas asked, having held back too. Paris nodded without looking at him. She didn’t need to look to feel the hesitantly concerned look directed at her.

(Degas had been the first one she woke up to after the stabbing. He’d been oddly kind, considering who she was, likely a tactic to trick her into trusting him. Except it didn’t seem so as time had gone on. It would’ve been more comforting and familiar in a twisted way if he had mocked her for her weakness.
To call him innocent would be wrong, wouldn’t it? He wasn’t innocent like a young, wide-eyed fawn or like the civilians who didn’t know enough to even call themselves ignorant. Maybe naïve then, seeming to believe in people’s best intentions. He was experienced and a good agent, good in his skills and good as a human being. She didn’t want to taint that.)

From a distance, she saw as Ethan and Grace seemed to finish their heartfelt reunion, as Ethan looked over at them both, assessing. He seemed satisfied given the nod he gave them, but she saw as his eyes drifted to where another person should be. His eyes widened and Paris stepped forward speaking quickly.

“He was shot, but he’s alive. I'm sorry” She wasn’t sure why she spoke up when either one of the others could have told him, but it was his blood on her hands, and she actually had grown to like Benji over the short amount of time.

(She shoved away the memory that arose of the time during the plane journey when Degas had been keeping them on course and Grace asleep. She hadn’t been able to sleep and clearly neither had Benji. She suspected it was out of fear for the missing member of their newly thrown together team. It was strange when he came over to her, smiling awkwardly and offering for her to join him watch a random film, likely needing a mundane distraction. Paris hadn’t replied but sat with him, nonetheless.

Distantly, it reminded her of the evenings spent watching dated black and white films with her father. As long as she remembered to keep quiet, she could even say those times ended up being the most peaceful and pleasant time she spent with that man).

Ethan seemed tense, and his eyes were like those of a kicked puppy, but he relaxed minutely. He seemed to pause to say something but stopped himself, turning around and stumbling towards the make-shift infirmary. Grace’s frustrating worried expression had returned, and Degas seemed to be about to spout something comforting, so Paris slipped away.

She wasn’t quite sure where she was heading but eventually she found an empty corridor, leaning against the wall and trying to berate her heart into complying with a relaxed rhythm. Yes, these people were kind and deserving, but she would not be attached. She had repaid her debt to Ethan, she had done a good thing, but she was not good. Paris was deadly, and cruel and uncaring and she would be a perfect weapon as Gabriel had always proclaimed she would be.

Quietly, she headed through the hallways after some time had passed. The walls were an oppressive grey colour, and distantly she could hear the humming of technology. Paris tried to shove down the unsettled feeling that burrowed back into her chest at the sound, reminding herself not to be so foolish when The Entity was gone. While she hadn’t been walking with a conscious destination in mind, she wasn’t surprised when her feet dragged her in front of the entrance to the infirmary. She wasn’t sure why she cared so much to check in, she knew that Benji had survived.

Looking through the small, scratched glass window in the door, it was Ethan she saw first. Ethan, whose face looked worn and tired now, but relieved as though he could finally relax. It wasn’t hard to figure out why as she took note of how he was holding Benji’s hand. Benji looked worse for wear and pale enough to rival a sickly Victorian child, but content. It was Benji who looked over and noticed her, smiling in a way she guessed was supposed to be welcoming if not for the tired lines of his face and the slight grimace due to pain.

Paris was gone by the time Ethan looked over. It wasn’t hard to slip out of the base and disappear.

Chapter Text

A couple weeks after she had all but abandoned the others, Benji had contacted her. It shouldn’t have surprised her she supposed, given that Benji was kind and had seemed to accept her mildly concerning and murderous demeanour more easily than one should. She found his exasperated comments amusing in a way, and got the sense that he had learnt to simply accept the odd qualities of those around him. Really, it took just one look at Ethan to realise he was weird, with how frustratingly human he was with his core beliefs, and seeming to have impossible limits. Paris wasn’t jealous of his skills at all. It simply gave her an aim.

Paris hoped Benji didn’t feel indebted to her in any way for helping him. In saving him she had repaid the debt to Ethan. Not that she wouldn’t have saved Benji anyway, but her world had always been governed by favours and debts. Her debt to Gabriel had been one that never could be repaid, his grip on her too strong.

She’d been travelling through France for the past week, having kept moving in case anyone decided to come after her. The train station had been practically desolate at the late time, aside from a few blank-faced men in suits, having spent too long at work. They likely had a partner, a family or maybe even a dog waiting for them to return. The warmth of the home a harsh comparison to the cold tones of this industrial place.

The silence had made it all the more piercing when a payphone nearby started ringing, the tone scratching to her aching head. Sleep hadn’t been a necessity lately.

Looking around briefly, she walked over to the payphone. It was rare to find one these days, and the grime revealed its lack of use. Paris picked up the payphone cautiously, waiting silently for anything to be said.

“Hello? Are you there Paris” Benji asked after a moment.

“Benji” Paris spoke quietly, feeling unsure. She knew that she had left abruptly, but that was how it went. The debt was repaid and scales balanced, and life continues as if you hadn’t existed.

“Where are you going- well no, you don’t have to say” He sighed “You didn’t have to just leave like that.” He stated it like it was an obvious fact that she could’ve stayed with them.

“Are you ok?” She asked instead of contemplating what he meant further. It felt awkward or perhaps strange to be contacted like this.

“Oh- yes, we’re all fine” Benji replied, slipping into French too. It was nice how Benji seemed to not mind it. Except for the times she made slight fun of some of his pronunciations. In the background she heard a murmur from what sounded like Ethan. Maybe they needed her help with something?

“Do you require my help?” Her voice slipped into a more detached tone.

“No no, I just wanted to make sure you were ok.” Benji stated, sincerity blatant in his voice. Paris wasn’t sure how to reply to that. Her chest ached a little bit, in the way it did whenever someone was a little too kind to her. It simply wasn’t a luxury that came with her way of life.

(“You have a choice.” Gabriel had softly yet not kindly told her once “I can help you escape this life and make you better, or you can stay here and continue to be no better than a fly pathetically slamming itself against a window trying to get out”)

“Look Paris, none of us are perfect people and we chose this life. But we look out for each other still, you don’t have to be alone”

“I’m not sure I’m made for that. If you ever need me, I will be there” Paris murmured back. It was easier to offer them protection and the use of her skills than to acknowledge the emotion behind it all. She hoped he understood how significant it was for her still.

“You aren’t the only one of us whose thought that before, just remember that if you need us we’ll be there.” Benji replied, sounding more understanding than she expected from him.

Later, she would sit amongst the blank faced business men out too late, and feel oddly at peace with the knowledge there were people out there that knew and valued her too.

It had been a few months now since the world nearly ended, and it was surprising how things seemed to fall back into place again. It wasn’t exactly as though criminals had had a wholesome change of heart, and if anything many had taken advantage of the chaos caused by The Entity.

Paris had tried to be more cautious about who hired her these days, but it was easy to slip into old habits of accepting jobs from criminal organisations. The mask of someone who didn’t care for anyone but herself and her goals painted on as easily as her make-up. Or at-least she liked to think that was the case. Ethan ‘No one is expendable’ Hunt would be disappointed she expected. It made her gut churn a bit. Sometimes she was scared of proving that she hadn’t deserved to be spared by him.

The lights were low and dazzling, flashing every so often in a way that made her shudder, as she kept watch over the party. The assignment was simple: prevent the deal from being disrupted. What the deal was exactly she didn’t know. Her morals had improved to the point she at least ensured she did a background check of whoever she worked for to ensure they weren’t complete scum. Benji used to joke she was levelling up whenever she showed more empathy or care than usual.

As far as she could uncover, the deal was likely related to some low-grade drug smuggling and while it was far from good she needed the money and to feel useful. In truth, no one had died because of her direct actions in three months now. It was quite nice. Her reputation meant no one doubted her ability or that she would, and many still left with non-fatal wounds but it felt good to try spare people. It felt like an apology in some ways.

Paris used to think it was better to be a quiet soldier where the only objective was to harm or kill if necessary. It usually was necessary. Now, it only drew her thoughts back to Benji, how it had been his blood staining her hands and a sick feeling would rise up inside her at the idea of being the one to cause that. It didn’t exactly help her stay detached from her chosen form of work to suddenly have unlocked the empathy she had thought was snuffed out long ago.

The party took place in a large, undefinable warehouse with various backrooms to allow the deal to take place discreetly. It was getting boring if she was honest and there was an unease slithering under her skin, a distraction needed. Out of the corner of her eye, a figure slipping through the door to a restricted area caught her attention. Silently, Paris followed.

Slipping open the door and stepping inside the dark room watchfully, she had only a moment before someone was attempting to slam her against the wall. The attempt was worthy of praise, but the attacker was clearly not as experienced as others and knew this, relying too much on the element of surprise in the hope that would be enough. It never was if you were fighting someone as driven as Paris.

Within seconds, she had the woman flipped over and slammed against the floor. It was only then that she took note of who this was, flinching back and instantly letting go.

“Grace?” Paris murmured, noting her now dishevelled brown hair and equally stunned eyes.

(In what felt like years ago now, Paris had watched Grace at the party in Vienna before they had approached her. At first Grace appeared good at acting confident, but the cracks were visible if you kept watching. She’d bite her lip or inner cheek occasionally, a nervous habit, and her stance appeared too performative and tense. Her eyes were constantly watching the surroundings, a defensive measure when you had learnt to always be wary of those around you. It was almost funny knowing the presence of The Entity was all around, but invisible to them.

Paris hadn’t cared much at the time, feeling only a small inkling of pity at knowing she’d likely die that night. When Grace hadn’t died, she hadn’t felt anything and yet she seemed to care now. It made sense from the perspective that without Grace’s skill the world likely would’ve ended, but that wasn’t what made her important.

Sometimes she wanted to point out what she first observed, remind her to cover up the cracks so Grace wouldn’t be vulnerable. Other times, she was reminded that perhaps she didn’t know Grace as well as she thought. It made Grace wonderful, the way she didn’t quite fit in the neat little box of what Paris had initially assigned her character as.

While it was predicted she would swoon over Ethan and be vulnerable without him, she wasn’t. Well yes, there had been a bit of awe, but that was the typical amount that resulted from having extended exposure to Ethan’s ‘hero aura’ as Paris liked to call it. If she was honest, she did maybe just a little want to train with Ethan, just so she could prove that she could beat him in a fight. She had some pride to maintain.

Regardless, Grace had fought to survive, and done what was necessary despite her fear. Paris ended up finding herself watching Grace from a distance again throughout the mission, trying to act as a protective eye rather than a malignant one.)