Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“We cannot escape the past. Some of us are doomed to repeat it. Grace may believe you saved her from her fate, but you and I both know you merely bought her time. But that's the pattern, isn't it? A cross you've been left to bear. The closer someone gets to you, the harder it is to keep them alive.

A new day brings a new burden. The key is only the beginning. Wherever it leads, wherever it takes to get there, you'll have to do it on your own. Should you fail in your mission, the Entity wins. Gabriel wins. And the world will pay the ultimate price. Should any members of your team be caught or killed, their sacrifice will have been in vain. So hurry. There isn't much time. The world doesn't know it, but they're counting on you. Good luck, Ethan.”

The first thing Ilsa registered was the cold, then the pain. The pain in her leg was sharp, while the hurt in her chest was dull and throbbing. She opened her eyes a tiny bit, only seeing blurry lights. She propped her elbow and tried to sit up, letting out a groan in the process.

“Don’t move.” A strong hand pushed her back down. “You’re safe, I promise.”

She recognized that voice. She opened one eye fully, letting it adjust to the light before opening the other. Ilsa lifted her head a little bit and saw Luther. She almost cried with relief. Her head thumped back on the table and a tear escaped her eye.

“Luther…” her voice cracked.

“It’s alright Ilsa,” Luther comforted.

Ilsa tried to sit up again but this time Luther helped her. She was propped up against two pillows and looking at a dim and dusty room- despite the lights.

Ilsa’s hand moved to her chest, where the knife was. “I’m not dead..”

Luther scooted his chair closer to her, “no, that vest saved you, but barely.”

Ilsa remembered the moment all too clearly. She blinked away another tear and shook her head. “Where are we?”

“We are in a bunker in London,” Luther explained, “I took you here because it’s safe, and it’s a place where I can work on this safely.”

He held up an object rectangular in shape.

“What is it?”

“I call it the Poison Pill.” Luther said, “it will kill the entity, or at the least, render it useless.”

“How long have we been down here?” Ilsa asked.

“A few days.”

“Do the others know I’m here?” Ilsa was almost afraid to ask that question.

Luther nodded, “Only Ethan, Benji, and I.”

“And the new girl..Grace?”

Luther shook his head. “She had to believe you died for her, so that she would help us. She felt bad, Ilsa.”

Ilsa said nothing. She reached under the white shirt she was wearing and felt the bandage across her heart. Then her gaze went to her legs. She was wearing gray shorts and there was a bandage that was slightly red wrapped around her left leg.

“Did Ethan get the key?” Ilsa whispered.

“He did.”

She let out a breath. “Thank you, Luther.”

He smiled, “Feel free to change, and eat. There is some food in the room across from this one.”

Ilsa climbed out of the bed slowly. She tested her left leg uncertainty but found that she could limp fine on it.

“You did a good job Luther,” Ilsa commented.

He chuckled, “I have a few other talents than hacking.”

Ilsa limped out of the room. She spotted the room with the food, but she kept walking. She scrutinized the wall of this place. They were brick, and nothing was out of the ordinary, something just felt off. The dust of the place was starting to make its way into her lungs and she coughed, much to her discomfort. The more she walked the less her leg hurt, surprisingly, and she felt stronger than she had while lying in bed. She eventually found a room with a mirror and decided she would change after all.

She turned around and walked back to the room Luther was working in. She squinted slightly as she entered; the lights in this room were significantly brighter than the rest of this place.

“Did you eat?” Luther asked.

“Uh- no, not yet. I’m going to change.” Ilsa spoke offhandedly as she looked for some clothes. "Um, Luther, where did you say the extra clothes were?”

She tugged on her white shirt self-consciously; she wanted her leather back.

“Oh, sorry.” Luther got up and walked over to the far corner. He lifted up a big black duffel bag. “Here, I hope I got your size right.”

Ilsa smiled, “thanks.”

She grabbed the duffel and went back to the room with the mirror. She stood in front of the mirror and lifted her plain white shirt over her head. She threw it on the ground and stared at herself in the mirror. The white bandage across her heart only had a small red stain on it, which she guessed was a good sign. She lifted her hand up to her heart and pressed on the wound slightly. It didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would, and she chalked that up as an even better sign.

Ilsa bent down to look at what Luther had in the duffel bag. Her hands grabbed onto a leathery texture. She lifted it out of the bag and to her joy it was a leather jacket. She hung the jacket on the mirror and continued digging through the bag. She lifted out a black tank top that had a soft texture. She felt a million times better when she pulled it over her head. Then she put on her pants, grabbed her jacket, stepped into her boots and left the room.

She was walking like a new woman down the dank hallway. The leather jacket felt right on her shoulders, but it didn’t protect her from the off feeling returning when she walked down the hallway. Suddenly, a dull thud sounded behind her. She whipped around, fists up.

“Hello?” Ilsa’s voice echoed.

It was silent.
Ilsa lowered her fists reluctantly and turned around, constantly looking over her shoulder as she walked back to where Luther was.

“Are you sure no one knows we are here?” Ilsa asked, walking in.

Luther turned around. “I’m sure,” his face became concerned, “why, did you see something?”

Ilsa looked over her shoulder again, “No, I heard something. A thud.”

“It could’ve been a rat,” Luther suggested, though he seemed uncertain.

Ilsa looked at him with a look that said ‘a rat? Really’

“It was too loud to be a rat,” she stated. “I’m going to check it out.”

Luther frowned. “Be careful Ilsa, yell if you need anything.”

Ilsa looked at him confidently, “I’ll be alright. Do you have a gun?”

Luther leaned over and grabbed a pistol out of a bag. He tossed it to her and she caught it; Ilsa left the room with it out in front of her. The hallway was completely silent, Ilsa could only hear her breathing and footsteps.

She came across a corner and turned quickly. It was a dead end. Out of the blue a hand wrapped around Ilsa’s mouth and stomach from behind her. She screamed through his hand and tried to break free. His other hand was holding her arms down, preventing her from raising her gun. She was still too weak to break out of his hold by herself.

“I didn’t think you were still alive. What a shame.”

—

Ethan tapped his foot impatiently. The taxi was stuck in traffic a good amount of miles away from the bunker. Hundreds of thoughts were running through his mind:

‘Is Ilsa awake? Has Luther finished the pill? I need to get Paris out of prison. Where is Gabriel? Where is the key- Grace has the key. Am I being followed? I feel like someone's following me. The entity. Does it know where I am? Does it know where my friends are?’

The last thought brought Ethan back to the conversation he had with president Sloane earlier. She said the Entity was taking over nuclear systems across the world. Only seven nations were out of the Entity’s grasp… for now. A honk from a car behind him interrupted his thoughts. In the 10 minutes he’s been thinking, the taxi had barely moved.

He scowled in frustration. “That’s it, I'm running.”

Ethan started to get out of the car.

“Wait! You’re gonna run? It’s ten miles to your destination!” The driver said incredulously.

“Yup.” Ethan shut the door.

Ethan stood next to the taxi for a moment. He stared at the city; it was really quite beautiful. Ethan ran his hand through his hair and started running in the direction of the bunker.

He heard a voice shout from behind him.

“You go man! Whoo!”

In spite of himself he smiled.

Chapter Text

Luther put down his tool. He turned around in his stool.

There it was again. It sounded like a whistle, or a high pitched….scream.

Luther stood up faster than light. He grabbed another gun and slinked out of the room. As he walked farther down the lights from the room he was light less of the corridor. He tilted his head slightly trying to listen for the sound again. He heard it- faintly.

He started walking slightly faster. After about 20 seconds he could hear voices.

“So, how did you do it?”

Luther didn’t recognize the voice.

“I stuck the knife in pretty deep, or, so I thought.”

Gabriel?

Luther peaked around the corner. Ilsa was backed up against a wall, her gun on the floor by the man’s feet. As the man bent down to pick up the gun, Luther got a look at his face, it wasn’t a good look, but it was enough to identify him as Gabriel.

“I’m not so hard to kill,” Ilsa snarled. “How did you find me?”

“Oh Ilsa, you’re smarter than that,” Gabriel chuckled, “you know who I am, you know… what I am.”

In the dim light Luther vaguely saw Ilsa’s eyes glance at him. If he wasn’t looking for it, he wouldn’t have seen it.

“Oh,” Gabriel said, in a patronizing voice, “do we have a friend.”

But apparently Gabriel did too.

Luther turned back around quickly as a bullet ricocheted off the brick.

“No!” Ilsa yelled. Luther heard some grunts and the sound of their footsteps stepping erratically. Luther came around the corner fully this time and with his gun raised. Ilsa and Gabriel were fighting for his gun.

Outside Luther was calm, but inside he was panicking. He was panicking for Ilsa, for Ethan, for the world. If Gabriel got his hands on the poison pill back in the workshop, they were done for.

Luther tried aiming the gun at Gabriel, but they were moving around too much and he didn’t want to hurt Ilsa. The gun that they were grappling for was above both of their heads, and it started going off. The sound of the gun was rattling Luther’s ears but he didn’t flinch.

Gabriel managed to get the upperhand, even when Ilsa had him backed up against the wall. He placed his foot on her stomach and kicked. She fell to the ground with a grunt, and to Luther’s concern, didn’t get up straight away. Luther realized he had an opening when Gabriel took a step to Ilsa.

Luther was about to fire when Gabriel turned the gun on him and fired. A searing pain shot up his shoulder and he fell back.

“No!” Ilsa cried. “Stop!”
He turned enough on the ground to look at Gabriel and Ilsa, though his vision was becoming blurry. He watched as Gabriel went back to Ilsa and kicked her in the head.

“Ilsa!” Luther groaned.

Gabriel started walking towards him, but he looked past his legs to Ilsa’s prone form. Gabriel knelt right next to Luther.

“Well, well, well,” Gabriel sneered, “you must be the famous hacker Luther Stikell.”

As Gabriel talked he moved the gun in mocking motions, constantly placing it on Luther’s body and just randomly in the air.

“Did you finish it? I suppose you must’ve by now, otherwise, what use of you are you to Mr. Hunt?”

Gabriel pressed the gun into Luther’s wound and his vision darkened again.

“I don’t think I’ll kill you, yet, I mean you will die, but not now.” Gabriel was half talking to himself now. “I think I’ll leave Ethan Hunt a gift.”

There was extra venom when he said Ethan’s name. Luther couldn’t move to stop Gabriel as he walked away- in the direction of the workshop.

The dark beckoned Luther to join, but he fought to stay awake.

“Ilsa,” he called into the dark.

No response.

It seemed like an eternity sitting in the dusty, dim corridor, fighting sleep, before he heard footsteps come his way. Gabriel stopped by Luther’s feet. He held up the Poison Pill; the dim light bounced off of it.

“I left a little gift,” Gabriel whispered. Luther heard Ilsa groan behind him. “I hope he likes it.”

Luther’s pulse started to quicken and he felt his shirt become wetter. Gabriel climbed the stairs out of the bunker laughing, his laughter echoing much longer after he left.

—
Ethan slowed to a stop from his slowish pace. He had been running for around an hour, and he was tired. He turned down an alley and was about to open the door to the bunker, when he saw it already open.

“Oh no,” he whispered.

He brought out his gun and flashlight and started walking down the stairs very carefully. His tiredness forgotten as his worry for his friends grew. He faintly heard crying and started up in a run again. Ethan turned corners so quickly his feet slid across the concrete. Finally he found the source of the crying.

Ilsa was kneeling next to Luther, and her hands were pressed against his chest.

“What..” Ethan stumbled. He fell next to his old friend. “Luther… what happened?”

Luther coughed, “Gabriel.”

Ilsa looked up, her eyes were watery, and Ethan noted the bad laceration that was still bleeding above her brow.

“Ethan, he-he,” Ilsa’s voice cracked.

“It’s okay Ilsa,” Ethan shushed her. He slowly lifted her hands off of Luther so he could see the damage.

Luther groaned softly when the pressure was removed. Ethan looked at the wound; it was still bleeding, heavily, and it looked like the bullet pierced the top of his lung.

“Shit, Luther,” Ethan muttered.

“Ethan,” he coughed.

“Don’t- don’t talk Luther,” Ethan pleaded, “save your strength.”

“Ethan, listen,” Luther commanded weakly, “there is a bomb.”

Ethan gasped, “what?”

Ilsa’s voice was serious now, “It will go off in about a minute now, but I didn’t want to leave Luther.”
Luther grabbed Ethan’s hand, “you and Ilsa have to get out of here,”

Ethan shook his head, “no, no, no, I can still stop this.”

“For the ones we never meet, now GO!”

Ethan grabbed Ilsa’s hand roughly and started running. She stumbled behind him before she found her footing and they were running side by side. They just stumbled out of the bunker when the bomb went off and both of them flew into the wall. Ilsa let out a cry, and Ethan felt his nose bruise.

Ethan stood up roughly and stared at the spot where the entrance to the bunker used to be. It was covered by debris and dust was swirling around it. He blinked away his tears and turned around to help Ilsa up.

“Are you okay?” Ethan asked.

She rubbed her forehead, “I will be.”

She leaned partly against him as they stumbled away together into the city.

"For the ones we never meet," Ethan murmured.<\p>

Chapter Text

“There,” Benji said, sitting back satisfactorily.

Ilsa brought her hand up and ran her fingers against the butterfly-bandages. “Thanks.”

“No problem, Ethan-” he trailed off.

He looked back behind him where Ethan was sitting, staring off into the distance. He was muttering to himself, something about ‘Gabriel’ and ‘kill him.’ Ethan sympathised with him. When Ethan and Ilsa returned an hour and a half ago with the news of Luther’s death, Benji had almost collapsed with sadness. Thinking about it ate Benji up inside, so he planned to avoid thinking about it until the mission was done.

“Ethan…” Benji called softly.

Ethan came out of his trance. He looked at Benji for a minute before realizing, “Right, we need to get Paris out of prison. She’s the only person who really knows Gabriel, at least more than we do.”

Degas walked into the room, “and, how do you propose we get her out of jail?”

Ethan and Benji looked at each other and then back at Degas.

“Masks.”

“Am I missing something,” Degas asked.

Ilsa shrugged in response, “welcome to the team.”

“Benji, contact Grace and have her meet us,” Ethan ordered.

“On it.”
—

Paris waited behind the door for the guards to open it. It was time for her ‘daily walk’. Paris scowled, she had waking dreams- and normal dreams, about grabbing Gabriel by the throat and throttling the life out of him. The audacity! She couldn’t believe he thought she would betray him.

He was right though.

Paris had a lot of time in her cell to think about what led her to this. Her fight against Ethan, and while he had every right to kill her, he didn’t. She didn’t regret helping him, no matter how much she cursed him out in her cell every night.

“Step back,” the guard said.

Paris obeyed. The guard opened the door and stepped in with cuffs. He put them around her wrists and let her walk out before him. Another guard was waiting at the side and fell in line. They were about to turn a corner to the outside but two more guards got in their way.

“Pardon me,” the taller man said.

The two men separated to walk around Paris’s guide’s, and as they passed her guards they both tried to stick something into their necks, but her guards were too fast. Paris got out of the way of the fighting men. She didn’t exactly know who to cheer for as she watched punches and kicks fly. At one point guns were brought out, but her handlers were the ones who ended up knocked out on the ground.

One of the men started moving towards her and she backed up defensively.

“ ‘Whoa, it's okay. We are here to break you out.’ ” The man said in French.

Paris looked at him skeptically. The man was holding his arms out passively, like she was a dog. She scoffed and took another step back. The man positioned his hands under his chin and slowly started to lift his face off. Paris gasped slightly. Once the mask was off, she recognized the face underneath. Ethan Hunt.

“Ethan?” she asked, her accent heavy.

Still speaking in French he answered, “ ‘yes yes it’s me, we are breaking you out.’ ”

“ ‘Who is this?’ ” She motioned to his partner.

He removed his mask also, though she didn’t recognize him.

“ ‘This is Benji,’ ” Ethan said, “ ‘come, let’s get out of here.’ ”

Paris walked to him and he unlocked her handcuffs. She subconsciously rubbed her wrists. Ethan scanned the hallway then beckoned her and… Benji.. to follow. She all stayed in a group as they moved through the prison. There were passage ways Paris didn’t even know existed in this prison that they went through. Eventually they were outside and across the street was a black van, Paris assumed it was their ride.

The trio acted casual as they crossed the street; looking left and right. When they got to the van, no one was in it.

“What the?” Benji exclaimed. He ran to the back and opened the double doors. “Where did they go?”

Ethan started scanning the street. Paris looked also, but she had no idea who she was looking for. Suddenly out of the corner of her eye she saw a man run out of an alleyway. She recognized him from Rome, and the train. He saved her.

“Ethan! Come quick, it’s Gabriel!” the dark-skinned man said.

Paris became alert when she heard that name. She started running after the man faster than Ethan and Benji. She scowled to herself as she ran, she would make him pay. She ran down stairs and turned a lot of corners before ending up in a series of underground tunnels. The man seemed to be leading them aimlessly through the dark, which annoyed Paris. If they kept at this slow pace, Gabriel would get away, again!

The man finally seemed to recognize something- though Paris wasn’t sure what, it was all brick- and he led them to where two women were waiting. Both of them had guns up, and she only recognized one of them- also from Rome… and the train. The other woman looked like she had gone through hell and back, no doubt because of Gabriel, but Paris felt a little respect for her.

“He escaped,” the unknown woman said.

Ethan cursed and punched the wall; Paris started cursing in French.

“We found something though,” said the woman Paris knew.

“Where?” Ethan demanded.

The women led everyone to a big room. In the middle was something Paris was all too familiar with.

The familiar woman seemed to notice Paris’s face. “What is it?”

Pairs tilted her head thoughtfully, trying to think of a way to explain it.

“You can say it in French,” Ethan said.

Paris nodded, grateful. “ ‘It’s a- uh- well Gabriel uses it to talk to the Entity. I am not sure how it works though.’ ”

Ethan nodded absently. He was obviously deep in thought. Ethan started to walk to it. The others followed behind cautiously. Ethan opened up the casket with a ‘hiss’ and let out steam; it revealed a mask connected to tubes laying on the cushion of the box.

“Whoa,” Benji said breathlessly.

Ethan started to climb into the box.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Everyone seemed to say together.

“What do you think you're doing?” The woman Paris didn’t know asked.

Ethan took his foot out and walked to her. “Nothing is going to happen, Ilsa.”

Ilsa. Finally a name to the face.

Ethan cupped her cheek. Paris looked at the other girl, she didn’t see any jealousy on her face, but, you never knew. Paris looked back at Ethan and Ilsa. Their heads were bent together and they were whispering to each other. Finally Ethan let go and climbed in the box with no argument from anyone.

He looked at Paris. “Do you know how to activate this?”

Paris only shrugged. Ethan got comfortable, closed the box, and everyone else was left there in silence, in the dark.

Paris looked at the woman she still didn’t know the name of.

“So, what is… your… name?” she asked in english.

“Grace.” She responded.

“Oh right,” The man she didn’t know chimed in, “I’m Degas, nice to meet you, even though we have already met, technically.”

He had a broad- and charming smile. Paris shook his hand.

Chapter Text

Ethan laid in the dark for a couple seconds, working up the courage to put the mask on. He let out a breath and put the mask on. Suddenly restraints trapped his legs and arms, and over the eyes of the mask to stop his head from moving. His mind started spinning immediately. Bright blue lights were flashing in his eyes, making him blink rapidly.

“Hello Ethan,” a robotic sounding voice said; it seemed to echo in his brain. “You are a remarkable man to say the least, interesting. You are going to help me. That fool Gabriel FAILED at one job, but you, you have saved the world many times, but even more times have you chosen to save a single life over the world. You have lost many people in your life: Maria.”

Ethan flinched. The weird robotic humming that sounded like thinking drove itself into Ethan’s brain.

“Your first IMF team, Secretary Hunley, Luther.”

Ethan tried to break out of his restraints.

“Always you have put the lives of your friends over your own, and over the mission, but you always seem to complete the mission, at the cost of yourself. Now I have a mission for you.”

Suddenly all these images flashed in Ethan’s eyes, integrating into his brain. Images of the poison pill, the vault in the Sevastopol, of his friends, of military control, Grace covered in snow, Ilsa fighting somebody, Benji surrounded, Degas in a room of fire, Gabriel, Ethan in water, Kittridge, the key, a letter, all his friends in danger, the arctic, the President, airplanes, Luther, his friends dead.

Ethan’s eyes widened. No no no no NO! He struggled against his restraints, and suddenly they let go. The box opened and he quickly threw the mask off of his face. He practically jumped out of the box onto the unforgiving concrete floor.

Everybody rushed to his side immediately.

“Ethan, are you okay?” Ilsa searched his eyes.

“What happened?” Grace asked frantically.

“What did it say?

“Did it tell you where Gabriel is?”

“Où est Gabriel?”

“Stop,” Ethan croaked.

Everyone quieted down.

Ilsa lifted his head up to look him in the eyes. “What did you see Ethan?”

“Everything,” he looked up and gazed at all of his friends. He knew what he had to do.

—

“Ethan, please,” Ilsa said following him as he walked into another room. “It should be me.”

“No, Ilsa!” Ethan snapped, turning around.

Ilsa froze. He has never yelled at her like that. She frowned at him and crossed her arms. His reasoning for taking Grace to steal back the Poison Pill instead of her, was dumb, and unreasonable to say the least.

Ethan turned back around but she moved so he was facing her. “Come on, Ethan,” Ilsa said sternly. “And don’t say that she’s the better person for the job, or I’m still recovering, because we BOTH know I am more skilled and experienced than her, and I’m FINE.”

Ethan had a blank face like he wasn’t even looking at her.

“ETHAN!” She took a step forward angrily and threw her hands out. “SAY SOMETHING.”

She didn’t care if anyone heard her now.

“I CAN’T LOSE YOU TOO!” Ethan shouted.

Ilsa was surprised. She flinched slightly at the volume, her headache still lingering.

“I can’t lose you too,” he basically whispered.

“Ethan,” Ilsa said sympathetically. She cupped his face, but he grabbed her hands and lowered them, then he just held them.

“I’ve already lost Luther, and last time you went up against Gabriel he almost killed you,” Ethan explained.

“But he didn't, Ethan,” Ilsa reassured, “you won’t-”

Ethan put a hand up to stop her. “You are still injured, and I can’t worry about you when we are in the midst of danger. You mean… everything to me. I can’t watch you almost die again.”

Ilsa opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it.

“Grace can handle it, we will be in and out.” Ethan said. “I promise I’m not benching you, I just, I need to know you’re safe.”

Ilsa looked down at their hands still linked. She looked back up into his green eyes. She bit her lower lip slightly then pulled Ethan into a hug.

They stayed like that for a few minutes. Finally they pulled out of the hug and put their heads together.

“Okay,” Ilsa whispered in his ear. “Just this once.”

When they finally pulled away, the mood seemed to be lighter. They both went back to the main room side-by-side. Everybody was anxiously waiting for news. Benji was sitting in a chair staring at a computer while subconsciously tapping a pen. Grace was pacing back and forth a few feet behind Benji, but when they entered she froze and seemed to stare at Ethan.

Ilsa was touched with a tiny pang of- she didn’t know what to call it- jealousy? She shook her head slightly, so as to not aggravate her headache. She was being paranoid over nothing, and stopped focusing on Grace’s face.

Degas and Paris were conversing slightly in the corner and when they came in they stopped.

“So what’s the plan?” Degas questioned, “surely you and Grace aren’t going alone?”

“We are,” Ethan confirmed. “Benji will be on comms with us, and Degas you WILL wait in the car, and all of you can watch us on the security cameras. Grace and I will try and intercept Gabriel before he gets to the section of the party where all of his assets are. If we can capture him, great, but we need to come away with the Poison Pill no matter what. Got it?”

He looked at Grace. She nodded and rubbed the back of her neck nervously.

“Ethan, won’t Gabriel see us coming?” Grace asked.

Ethan gave that a little thought. “I think he knows we are coming, but I don’t think he will see us.”

“Are we going to be wearing masks?” Grace played with her fingers.

“No, what I mean is I think the Entity abandoned him.” Ethan explained. “It told me that Gabriel failed, and I think it intends to use me to release it.”

“We are still VERY vulnerable though Ethan,” Grace said, “won’t he- have guards- or something?”

“I will protect you,” Ethan grabbed Grace by the shoulders.

Ilsa was listening to the plan and it only made her worry grow. Ethan wasn’t making very much sense, and Ilsa thought he was starting to crack. Grace was right, and Ethan’s plan was not near as good as others she had seen him make.
Grace nodded reluctantly. Ethan nodded also, harder.

“Let’s get ready,” he instructed.

Chapter Text

Grace dragged her feet slightly as she walked to the car. She adjusted her dress a million times in the car as she gazed at the city flying by. Despite the wonder that filled her eyes, the butterflies in her stomach made her nauseous. The more she thought about the mission, the more she subconsciously smoothed her hair and adjusted the strap of her shoes. Ethan didn’t seem to be fazed, he never did; it made Grace jealous.

Degas was tapping the wheel nervously as he drove, but other than that, showed no other signs. Grace spotted the building where the party they were attending was. They pulled up and Grace took a deep breath before opening the car door and getting out.

Grace closed the door of the car. Ethan met her on the sidewalk, smooth as a cat.

“Good luck guys,” Degas said, “be safe.”

Grace nodded, and bit her bottom lip. She was scared, no, terrified. To be honest she didn’t really want to do this. She cursed herself out. ‘Why did I go to that bridge? Why did I try to fight him? WHY DID I JOIN THIS STUPID TEAM.’ Those were just a few of the thoughts running through her head. Her heart seemed to be beating out of her chest, the butterflies in her stomach flapping harder.

Last time Gabriel had beaten her easily, he had beaten Ilsa easily. She looked at Ethan beside her. She felt a little bit of her fear alleviate next to Ethan. She knew he loved Ilsa, but that couldn’t stop her feelings, and she felt bad for it.

She admired the lights of the party as they walked in. The music was so loud it rattled her brain. She tugged at the skirt of her dress. It was too long for her liking, and the silk felt off- on her body. The blue dress revealed all of her back, and the only reason the top stayed up was because it wrapped around her neck. She stumbled slightly in her silver heals, Ethan catching her arm was the only reason she didn’t fall.

“Uh- thanks- uh- thank you,” she stuttered. ‘God why am I so nervous.’

“You got it Grace,” Ethan reassured her.

She nodded and gulped. She straightened her dress again as they entered the crowd of people. There was no possible way her dress could be anymore straight. Her mind went into ‘action mode’ and her eyes started scanning every face in the room. The giant, spacious, intimidating room, full of hundreds of people. Easy peasy.

Ethan squeezed her shoulder. She looked at him and his eyes told her it was time to split up, and mingle. Grace sighed inwardly and watched Ethan walk away from her. She started shuffling her way in between people, looking at faces only long enough to confirm it wasn’t Gabriel.

Her stomach rumbled. She touched it subconsciously and started to move toward the food and drinks table. Heaven knows she could use a drink right now, but no, food only; she couldn’t afford to make mistakes tonight.

“God, why did I agree to this?” She asked herself under her breath.

“Agree to what da’ling,” a man said, leaning on the food table next to her.

She almost punched him in the face with how bad he surprised her. The man was of Indian descent, and had a goatee and a very chic mustache. She cleared her throat and dug deep for that ‘womanly elegance’.

“Pardon me?” she asked sweetly.

“Well you were just muttering to yourself,” the man got closer to her, “something about agreeing to something? Did a man insult you?”

Grace’s hackles rose. “It is none of your business.” Grace turned away from the man and started to leave.

Suddenly he grabbed her arm, “now hold on da’-”

Grace didn’t let him finish as she sucker punched him in the nose. He fell against the table and onto the floor, a bowl of punch spilled on his white tux. He had a hand over his nose and had a look of complete astonishment on his face. A good number of people were starting to create a crowd around the man, and Grace took her opportunity to escape.

In the chaos a pocket of space seemed to open, and she thought she recognized Gabriel moving toward the back of the party. She didn’t give it a second thought, until she did. She did a double take and realized alarmingly that it was Gabriel.

She activated her com. “Ethan, I found him. He’s almost to the door to the back.”

“Copy.”

A small part of her wondered if it was Ethan who answered. She heard what happened with the com system as she was fighting Gabriel. She sent the thought away. Grace started shouldering people to get through. “Excuse me. Pardon me, thank you.”

Finally she escaped the crowd a few feet away from the hallway Gabriel escaped down. Just a second later Ethan emerged from the crowd and they both walked side-by-side into the hallway, until a pair of guards stopped them.

Ethan looked calm, but Grace didn’t have the amount of facial control as him and hopefully she hid her alarm quickly enough.

“Passes?” One of the guards demanded.

Grace felt herself starting to panic but she linked arms with Ethan to calm herself down, and hopefully create an illusion of a couple.

“The nerve! Don’t you know who we are?” Grace put on an accent.

Ethan seemed to get the message. He placed a hand calmingly on her hand, “now darling, patience.”

Ethan took some sort of card out of his back pocket. Grace did not remember that being a part of the supplies she packed. Ethan held out the card for the guards to scan. Their scanner seemed to load for a while before it finally turned green. The guards stepped away and let Grace and Ethan through.

“Thank you Benji,” Ethan whispered under his breath.

Grace ignored the fact that she wasn’t informed that that would happen and instead noted to herself that the hallway was quite long. They just entered the new room, when Grace felt Ethan pulled away from her. Hands grabbed her arms, and wrapped around her body. She could barely move and watched as Ethan was becoming trapped by hands as well.

Ethan threw elbows in their faces and punches in their guts. Two more men joined in the fight against Ethan and suddenly they were landing blows. Ethan doubled over and then fell back against a wall with a kick and a punch.

Suddenly another hand wrapped itself around her head. The man pulled her head sideways revealing her neck.

“No, no, no!” Grace screamed, “ETHAN!”

Ethan punched a man in the face and had a moment to look at her. His face suddenly filled with alarm and that made her even more scared. Then the men were back on him.

“Grace!” he called out as he dodged a fist.

“Ethan!” She shouted back, trying to wriggle away from the men.

“Grace!”

She felt something cold come in contact with her neck. She tried shaking her head to stop it, the grip became firmer. She felt the needle embed itself into her neck. Then the feeling of something foreign rush through her blood and she felt drowsy.

“Grace!”

She stumbled in the men’s grasp and then her knees gave out. The men caught her and held her up by her arms. Her head drooped.

“Grace! Ughn-”

Her vision blackened around the edges and all the noises started blurring together.

“GRACE!”

Then darkness.

Chapter Text

Grace slowly felt herself drift back into consciousness. She tried to lift her head but it felt like it was being weighed down.

“Mmm,” she moaned.

“Grace!” a voice whispered out to her.

“Hmm?” she managed to hum.

“Grace, wake up!” the voice became stronger.

She willed herself to open her eyes. She managed to open them a little, everything was still blurry. Things started to come into focus as the voice called her name again. She lifted her head a little bit, and ended up shutting her eyes due to the light. The voice stopped calling.

Something suddenly jerked her out of her sleepiness. Her eyes snapped open and were met with a face. An ugly face. A hated face. Gabriel. She snarled and tried to bite his nose, he was so close. He dropped her head and backed away. She raised her head and glared at him.

“Now now Grace,” he wiggled his finger, “that is no way to treat an old friend.”

“Leave her alone,” Ethan growled, “It’s me you want.”

Gabriel ignored him. He reached over at a table next to Grace and grabbed some duct tape. He tore off a piece and tried to put it over her mouth.

“No!” She shook her head trying to avoid the tape.

Despite her efforts, Gabriel managed to place the tape over her mouth. She grunted in protest and cursed as well, but her words couldn’t be understood. She looked desperately at Ethan. ‘Please get me out of here!’

Ethan met her gaze with determination and sincerity. “Let her go.”

“You are in no position to be making demands,” Gabriel said.

“Let her go or I’ll-”

“You’ll what? Kill me?” Gabriel laughed. “If you killed me you’d never find the Sevastapol.”

“I already know where it is,” Ethan said bluntly. “I know the entity abandoned you. I know you FAILED. You’re scared, everyone can see it. Kidnapping us is your desperate attempt for control. You-”

The sharp crack of the slap across Ethan’s face made Grace jump in her binds. Ethan straightened; he clenched his jaw but made no face. Gabriel went back to the table next to Grace. She watched him shuffle through the various, intimidating, tools. Imagining what many of those were used for made her shiver. She started praying to God Ethan was coming up with some insane plan right now.

“I have a job for you, Ethan.” Gabriel settled for some sort of knife. He spun it through his fingers smoothly as he talked. “You will find the source code for the Entity and bring it to me. If you don’t…”

He didn’t finish with words. Instead he lightly traced the knife over Grace’s cheek. She tried to back away but the pole she was tied to didn’t let her move very much. She saw Ethan move aggressively in the chair he was bound to. The knife felt cold against her skin, and for the third time that day, she wondered why in hell she got herself involved.

“Stop!” Ethan demanded.

“I think I will keep her here,” Gabriel traced Grace’s other cheek, “for insurance.”

Ethan stopped trying to negotiate with Gabriel. He looked at Grace, his eyes begging her to listen to his words, “It’s only pain.”

‘WHAT? What kind of comfort is that? That’s it, we’re screwed.’

Grace made sounds of disbelief and of fear through the duct tape. Tears started filling her eyes and she couldn’t blink them away.

“It’s only pain,” Ethan said again, more desperately.

Gabriel was smiling. “He’s right, it’s only pain,” he said mockingly.

Ethan started shaking violently in another attempt to escape his binds.

“Grace I’m sorry,” he said, “I’ll save you, i’ll-”

One of Gabriel’s men hit Ethan in the back of the head. Grace watched him go limp and screamed through the tape.

“Tick tock, Ethan,” Gabriel stated.

Harsh realization hit Grace. ‘I’m gonna die.’

—

A headache blooming was what woke Ethan up. He twitched at first, trying to gain enough strength to lift his head. Through his headache he registered the quiet. He lifted his head groggily and opened his eyes. He was in the same room as before. Panic hit him and he tried to break out of the rope tying him… only to fall to the ground, at the realization there was no rope around him.

The impact of the hard concrete floor woke him up fully. He took deep breaths to calm himself. He looked at the spot Grace had been in. His pulse spiked up again when he saw a small pool of blood on the floor. ‘I failed her. I promised her and I failed.’

Lately it felt like he had failed everyone he loved. Ilsa, Luther, now Grace. He had even failed Maria… again. Ethan punched the floor. He barely felt the pain it sent through his hands. He punched it again. And again. And again.

The only mark left on the floor was Ethan’s blood. Ethan lifted his hand shakily and looked at the damage he inflicted on himself. His knuckles were red, and bleeding a lot. He ripped off a piece of his jacket and wrapped his hands.

“I won’t fail again,” he said aloud. It echoed through the room.

He got off the ground and marched angrily out of the basement. Once he was free of the building. He ran. And ran. And ran.

…

“Where are they?” Ilsa screamed at Degas and Benji. They didn’t respond. “You were at the front door!” She pointed to Degas. “And you had access to ALL the cameras! How did we lose them?!”

“I don’t know what to say Ilsa, they just disappeared,” Benji explained desperately.

Ilsa clutched her head and groaned angrily. She screamed and slapped the wall over and over until a bang interrupted her outburst. She was instantly on alert and pulled out her gun. The motion of turning around too quickly made her slightly dizzy. She had to admit, she felt her headache and injuries start acting up again.

Everybody had guns pointed to the same room she did. They all waited silently as the footsteps came closer. Ilsa’s breath hitched when she saw the shadow. Suddenly Ethan appeared in the doorway. She let out her breath. Her fear, apprehension, and adrenaline all dropped. She ran to Ethan and cupped his face.

He didn’t react in any way. She scanned his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Ilsa asked uncertainly.

Ethan seemed to come out of his haze. He looked her in the eyes and his own softened.
“No,” he whispered so softly only she could hear.

Ilsa frowned.

“What happened? Where is Grace?”

Ethan pulled away.

“We need to find the Sevastapol, now!” Ethan moved to the computer and started working.

“What about Grace? What happened to her?” Degas asked.

Ethan turned around, “Gabriel has Grace. The only way to get her back is to get the codes.”

“We can’t give him the codes. And anyway, how do we plan to find the Sevastopol?" Benji inquired.

“It’s in the arctic, somewhere,” Ethan said.

“How do you know?” Benji asked.

“The Entity showed me,” Ethan explained, eyes locked on the computer. “Right now, we need to focus on the mission. Here’s the plan.”

Ilsa listened intently as Ethan laid out the plan- in detail- to them in like 15 minutes. She and Ethan would go and convince the president to help them. They would then get onto an aircraft carrier which would take them to a submarine, which would then take them to where the Sevastopol was, provided the others did their job. While Ethan and Ilsa are doing their thing, the others will be in the arctic already finding the coordinates needed to find the Sevastopol. Then from there Ilsa became confused.

“I’m sorry,” Ilsa interrupted, “you mean, you are going to dive, to the bottom of the ocean-the ARCTIC ocean, and get the source code, in twenty to twenty-five minutes?”

“Yes.”

Isa was superbly dumbfounded. “And you want me to just wait for you at the top?”

“Yes.”

“So, the submarine is going to, essentially, drop me off in a spot right above where you will be, and I wait.”

“Yes.”

Ilsa scoffed.

“What are you not understanding?” Ethan asked.

“What I’m not understanding, is that you are doing that alone, and I’m doing nothing!”

“You’re not doing nothing,” Ethan sighed, “you’ll be ready with the decompression chamber if I need it.”

“Oh yea, that comforts me so much,” Ilsa said sarcastically. “How am I supposed to know if you are down in the submarine? What if you don’t come up at all?”

“I will.”

“What if you DON’T,” Ilsa shouted.

Everyone froze. It didn’t even sound like anybody was breathing.

Ilsa took a deep breath, “what if you don’t?”

Ethan sighed, “I will. I promise. I won’t fail again.”

Ilsa was confused by that last sentence but ignored it. He seemed sincere, and if anybody could do it, Ethan could.

“Alright. So, after you resurface, whether from the submarine or not- the others will meet us and we will… do the other stuff.” Ilsa was still confused about the rest of the plan, but like she always did, she’d roll with the punches.

“So, just wondering, what about Grace…” Benji chimed in.

“This, this is how we help her,” Ethan didn’t spread any more light on that; he kept staring at the computer.

Degas was fidgeting with his hands. Paris was still leaning against the wall, just watching everyone. Ilsa shifted her gaze. The French woman made her uncomfortable sometimes.

“In one hour, we all go on our way. Good luck to everyone,” Ethan announced.

Ethan left the room. Ilsa thought the air was so tense she could cut it with a knife. She went over and joined Benji by the computer; She noticed Degas walk to Paris. Benji was typing absently, and what she saw on the screen looked like a baby slammed its face into the keyboard.

“Benji?” Ilsa touched his shoulder.

He jumped slightly at her touch, “Oh, sorry Ilsa.”

“It’s alright.” Ilsa took a seat next to him.

Benji stared at the screen, “he’s doing it again.”

“Who… what?” Ilsa questioned.

“Ethan,” Benji uttered, “he’s going into his head again. He always seems to do this when things are going badly- I mean worse than usual bad.”

Ilsa tilted her head.

Benji took that as a sign to keep going. “When Julia was kidnapped, he often talked to himself, he stared into space a lot when he wasn’t getting himself into danger. The same happened after you… almost died. And now, Grace is in Gabriel’s grasp, and Luther is gone, I think it’s just too much for him right now. He doesn’t want to lose us too.”

Ilsa heard something strange behind her. She and Benji turned to look. Paris was doubled over laughing- at something Ilsa assumed was a joke Degas made. The scene made Ilsa smile. Seeing the two of them laughing together during a hard time made Ilsa have hope. It reminded her of how she and Ethan had been once.

This wasn’t the first time she wished Ethan had just left with her back when they first met. She turned back around and stared at her hands. Her heart ached, but she wasn’t entirely sure it was from her wound or for Ethan.

Chapter Text

Erika frowned at the screen. France and China had fallen under the Entity’s control. It truly felt like the apocalypse had fallen upon them. She felt like one of the four horsemen- 5 now in this case- and this time they were horsemen against the apocalypse. As the president of the US, she had to make the choice whether to shut America’s nuclear weapons down, which would leave them defenseless, or leave them on, which might ultimately lead to the Entity’s takeover of their systems anyway.

She couldn’t see the right path. She had made mistakes before, like thinking Ethan was a part of the syndicate, but if she made a mistake this time, the whole world would burn. She held a hand to her head. Thinking about it made her head hurt. Where was Ethan Hunt when she needed him.

“President Sloane,” an officer said, coming into the room, “you are needed in the conference room.”

She sighed, “thank you, lieutenant."

The man nodded and closed the door behind him. She straightened her outfit and honed in on the click of her heels as she walked, it helped her focus her thoughts. She looked into the windows of the conference room to see who she would be talking to. Kittridge was staring at the wall on the far end.

She cleared her throat and walked in. Kittridge immediately turned and offered his hand to her as he walked over.

“Mrs. President,” he greeted.

“Mr. Kittridge,” she said back in equal formality. “What brings you here?”

“I believe we need to talk about a certain agent,” Kittridge stated.

“Hunt?”

He nodded. “We need to discuss his course of action. I believe he is the only one who can save the world from the Entity, but I think he will do so- possible at the cost of the world.”

Erika tilted her head, “and why do you think that?”

“Hunt has his own agenda” Kittridge clarified, “he does not believe-”

Erika raised a hand telling him to stop. “Mr. Kittridge, the world is ending. I do not CARE about your opinions on Hunt. I was wrong about him before, and it almost cost the world. I trust Hunt. But I also think you are right. We need to convince Hunt to destroy the Entity without destroying the internet- and in other words- the world in a different way.”

Mr. Kittridge had a sour look on his face.

“I want you to find Hunt, and bring him to me,” Erika told him sternly. “I will deal with how Ethan saves the world.”

Someone opened the door. Erika stared at the lieutenant exasperatedly.

“Madam President,” he said, “Ethan Hunt is here to see you… and he brought a friend.”

Erika raised her eyebrows. Kittridge looked as surprised as she felt.

—

Grace only felt fear as the men pushed her roughly to keep walking. The bag over her head prevented her from seeing anything, and it made her really hot. Her breathing was really loud, and she could hear her heartbeat ring through her ears.

A big hand shoved her forward again. This time her feet didn’t catch her in time and she fell to the ground, hard.

“Careful, you big lout!” Gabriel snapped.

The man who pushed her grumbled and picked her up roughly. She felt the breeze hit her knees through a new hole in her dress. She could hear Gabriel muttering things again. He had been talking to himself the entire time.

She felt something slide down her leg. Blood probably. ‘Great, that’s just what I needed.’ Grace was starting to feel the sting of the scrapes on her knees, which caused her to slow down, and that resulted in another hard push forward.

She finally snapped. She pushed the guy behind her with her tied hands. He was a big guy. “Enough of that! It’s not like I’m the slowest one here! But I will be if you break my legs!”

She swallowed hard. Why did she do that? Is she stupid? She must be stupid. She stood her ground as the guy growled at her.

“You-” his voice was deep and commanding, but Gabriel must have given him a look, because he didn’t finish.

Suddenly different hands grabbed her and whipped her around, making her lose her sense of direction.

“The more of a problem you cause me, know more you will wish you were never born,” Gabriel talked in a low, threatening voice.

Grace bit her tongue. This was a moment she was kinda glad she had a bag over her head; she didn’t wanna look at Gabriel's stupid, ugly face. In her mind Grace was coming up with all sorts of insults for him; it was a nice way to forget about the horrible situation she was in right now.

They finally stopped, where? She had no idea. Suddenly the bag was whipped off her head and the coldness of the room slammed into her face, it was refreshing. The room she was in was actually really fancy. The walls, carpet, and couches were pure white; there was a golden chandelier above them, and the view- was- astounding!

Grace closed her mouth the second she realized it was open. Gabriel was sitting cross-legged on one of the white reclining chairs; his suit blending in with the couch. He motioned to the guard on her left, and he left her side to grab something out of a bag.
Before Grace could see what it was- it was shoved into her arms. She looked at Gabriel in confusion, and he smiled at her. She glowered at him with hate. ‘That stupid, ugly smile,’ she thought.

“It’s for you, Grace,” he commented, “I would think you’d want to get out of that dress. I know you aren’t much of a fancy girl.”

That last comment irked Grace. ‘What was that supposed to mean? A fancy girl my ass.’ She realized she basically verified Gabriel’s comment when she stuck her tongue out at him like a child. She smirked at her and it made her want to rip his face off and shove it into the fire.

The guard on her right pushed her in the direction of the fancy bathroom. He closed the door loudly and she flinched. The bathroom might have well been a bedroom with how roomy it was. The window above the counter was the length of the entire wall. The carpet was still fur, and the walls were still pristine white. She threw the bundle of clothes on the ground and started to slip her dress off.

She did have to admit how much she wanted the stupid thing off her body. It was so impractical, and just- not her. Once the dress was off, she stared at herself in the mirror. She was horrified at the shape her body was in. Bruises up and down her arms and legs. Blood had dripped down her knees and it was now dry. Her stomach had a bruise she didn’t remember how she got; probably from one of the punches from Gabriel’s men.

The clothes she was given included: a white T-shirt, a dark brown workwear jacket, and black pants. She put them all on and she felt great. She smoothed her hair back with her fingers and put it in a high ponytail.

Grace didn’t really want to go back out to the living space, so she opened every drawer and cabinet in the bathroom. She was in there for close to twenty minutes and was surprised when no one checked on her even once. She sighed and decided to exit the bathroom. Everybody was basically still in the same spot as before and she frowned.

“I’m glad you enjoy your clothes,” Gabriel remarked.

Grace rolled her eyes and moved to the balcony. She turned around to face everybody, Gabriel was now standing- and watching her.

“Where are we?” Grace asked.

“We are in the Mitsopolis Hotel,” Gabriel answered.

That name sounded familiar. “The White widow…” Grace realized, speaking her thoughts out loud.

Gabriel nodded in conformation. We have some business to take care of here, and after all, it is a nice hotel.
Grace shuddered at the thought of Gabriel’s ‘business.’ Maybe she should warn Alanna, but then again, Alanna and her goons would probably kill her just as fast as Gabriel’s goons would. Grace looked at the big men standing at the door. She decided she’d take a chance with Alanna’s goons and started forming a plan in her mind.

Chapter Text

“This can’t all be true,” DIA said in disbelief.

“Every word,” Kittridge confirmed.

Ethan looked up at locked eyes with general Sidney- who was looking at him like he was a mad man. Then his focus shifted to the Secretary of Defense, who looked equally astounded at the sheet of paper in front of him.

“The CIA Black vault break in,” Angstrom read. Ethan was particularly proud of that one.

“Am I reading this correctly?” General Sidney asked, “the Kremlin bombing?” He looked back up at Hunt. This time his eyes were disbelieving with a touch of hostility as well.

“In fairness,” Kittridge defended him, “the bomb was actually meant to kill him.” Ethan spotted a miniscule smile flash across Kittridge's face. It was so small and quick Ethan wasn’t even sure he saw it.

“He gassed a security briefing,” The Secretary of Defense said breathily, certain he must be reading the wrong thing, “at the National Intelligence Directorate.”

“...That was just two months ago,” General Sidney said, then he looked up at Angstrom and Richards and continued, “you two would’ve been in that meeting.”

Angstrom frowned. “He arrived in the form of Mr. Kittridge’s aid-”

“-and left as Mr. Kittridge, I believe,” Richards finished.
Everyone went silent and Ethan looked at all the reactions on their faces. Angstrom looked like he wanted to lock Ethan away forever, the Secretary of Defense was looking at him in disbelief, and General Sidney- in surprise.

“This explains the handcuffs,” the Secretary of Defense said, “but still not clear why he’s here.”

Kittridge sat forward. “If we want to bring the world back from the brink… we have to deal with him.”

“Should he choose to accept,” Jasper Briggs muttered, almost to himself from the back.

President Erika Sloane finally looked up from the piece of paper, even though she knew everything that was on it. She stared directly at Ethan. “We just lost, Pakistan. What is your plan Hunt?”

Erika stood up, eyes never leaving Ethan's. He kept his mouth shut, he knew that she didn’t want an answer yet.

“You plan to kill it. You would rather kill it than let it fall into the hands of any country, much less your own,” Erika frowned. “We can’t let you do that. If you plug in the Entity- which you have to do to exterminate it- then it will connect to the Entity, and when you bring it down, you will shut down cyberspace.”

Ethan cocked his head. She didn’t need to say what would happen if cyberspace were to shut down. Erika seemed to know what he was thinking, was being the key word. What she didn’t know was that Ethan and his team had already come up with an alternative.

“Madam Presdient, I need to borrow an aircraft carrier,” Ethan announced simply.

Erika stared at him. He noticed; however, that everyone else was looking at him like he was a clown that waltzed into the building undetected, except Kittridge.

“Who do you think you are?” Angstrom scoffed.

Ethan ignored him. Erika straightened. “Leave us,” she said.

“Are you serious?” Angstrom argued.

“I’m not scared of Mr. Hunt, Harold,” Erika stated.

The others gave the President a look, and got out of their chairs reluctantly, but they left. Before the last security guard left, she had him unlock Ethan’s cuffs. When they clicked off his wrists he made a point not to rub them.

“So, I assume you already have another plan in mind?” Erika asked.

Ethan nodded.

“Go to Rear Admiral Neely,” she paused. Erika wrote something on the middle of a page. “Give her this.”

Ethan took the paper, but didn’t open it- instead he placed it carefully in his pocket. “Thank you Madam President.”

She let out a small smile. “Now don’t go prancing around like I gave you the world. Your friend should be waiting for you with a few supplies you might need. Do not make it obvious I heped you till you are well on your way, okay?”

Ethan nodded. Erika knocked on her desk and a female officer opened the door and led Ethan away. They didn’t talk as they walked outside where a helicopter and Ilsa were waiting. There were three officers there as well, standing at attention. Ethan gave them a nod and they relaxed.

“It is an honor to meet you sir,” a well-built black officer said, offering his hand. The two others followed suit.

Ethan shook his and the others hands and then talked to Ilsa.

“How did it go?” She asked.

“I got it,” Ethan whispered.

“Excuse me Agent Hunt,” the female officer interrupted, “I am Commander Kyle, Lucy Kyle- call sign Kite. We know about your mission and are to accompany you as far as the Sevastapol. This is Lieutenant Penn, call sign Dove-” she pointed to the black officer who shook Ethan’s hand before. “-and that is Officer Farr and Travis- or Pony and Book.”

The blonde man- Pony- offered his hand again for Ethan and Ilsa to shake. Then Book offered hers. They looked like they could be siblings, but Ethan guessed they were best friends based on the looks they gave each other.

“Thank you all,” Ethan said.

Everyone climbed into the chopper that would take them to the US Marine’s HQ. Ilsa’s hair whipped wildly in Ethan’s face as they took off until Ilsa grabbed a hold of her ponytail. She smiled sheepishly at Ethan and he chuckled.

“Can I ask how you guys got your call signs?” Ilsa questioned.

Commander Kyle glanced at the others who all nodded excitedly. She turned back to Ilsa with a smile of her own, “I’ll start.”

Ethan started zoning out and stared at the paper the president had given him. In between thoughts he heard some snip bits of Dove’s story, but forgot it almost instantly. His fingers traced the crease of the paper, tempted to open it, but he wouldn’t.

The next instant he stopped focusing on the paper and his other senses honed in. He realized no one was talking, and in fact they all had their eyes closed. He shifted a little and felt something on his shoulder. He glanced at the human being leaning her head on his shoulder while she slept. He smiled to himself, then continued to think.

A voice from the front of the helicopter interrupted his thoughts, “we are almost to your destination Agent Hunt.”

“Thank you,” Ethan said.

He looked forward again, to be greeted by everybody across from him with their eyes open and alert- as if they never fell asleep; now that he thought about it though, they probably weren’t actually sleeping. He nudged Ilsa ever so slightly and she roused. She sat straight up and combed her hair back with her fingers. Looking at her, Ethan knew one thing was for sure. He would never let anything bad happen to her again.

—

“You gave him an aircraft carrier?” The Secretary of defense said in disbelief.

Erika raised an eyebrow at him that said, ‘do you have a problem with that?’

The Secretary shut his mouth, but he still looked unbelieving. The others in the room watched the President intently.

“We all know Hunt is the only one who can do this,” Erika stated.

Chapter Text

Benji placed his thumbs on top of the cards and once again, tried to bridge them. He failed. All 52 cards spilled all over the passenger seat floor.

“Oh- come one!” Benji shouted.

Degas laughed. He was the one driving, but he still kept an eye on Benji’s progress with trying to bridge cards. “You almost had that one,” he commented.

“ ‘No he didn’t,’ ” Paris snorted from the back.

Benji didn’t know for sure what she said, but he had a guess, and he glared at her. “It’s harder than it looks,” he said while picking up the cards.

“ ‘Are we almost there?’ ” Paris asked.

“We are about five minutes away from the airport,” Degas answered.

“Have I ever told you about the time Ethan hung out of a plane?” Benji questioned.

“No, but that sounds like an interesting story,” Degas laughed.

“Oh it was,” Benji chuckled, “...I almost got him killed.”

“Ay guys, we are here,” Degas announced.

He finished pulling into the Airport parking lot and put the car in park. Benji just finished putting the last of his cards into their box and he scrambled out of the car to grab his stuff from the back. Most of the stuff he brought was gear, and things Ethan or Ilsa would need- and therefore, he only had a dufflebag for himself.

As they all walked inside, Benji was biting his tongue to stop himself from cursing aloud. The gear bag was heavy, and it had stuff that would probably NOT make it through security and he shamed himself for being stupid.

“Guys,” Benji whispered. They both stopped walking and turned to look at him. “How are we getting the gear past security?”

Pairs exchanged a glance with Degas. Degas turned to Benji. “Didn’t you make something that would change the scanner’s findings or cover up what’s actually inside it?”

Benji slapped his forehead. He was a little drunk, a lot tired, and under a momentous amount of stress. He heard Paris hold back a laugh, and he glared at her.

Degas slapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, you're good man. We have all had moments like that, and we are all under a lot of pressure.”

“We are under pressure for a reason! This is bigger than any mission the IMF has ever done, and I can’t afford to forget about something so simple when we have bigger things to worry about, like the agents hunting us down, or the time limit we are on for not just the world- for Ethan as well,” Benji was out of breath, but he pushed forward, “If we don’t get the coordinates for Ethan, he can’t find the submarine. If we can’t GET to the coordinates in time, Ethan could die from hypothermia, or-or drowning, or decompression sickness!”

“Whoa- okay, yes- those are all reasons to be scared,” Degas soothed, “but you have been doing this for years, and you have to trust yourself okay?”

Benji calmed down a little, and took a deep breath. “Yes you're right, I need to trust myself.”

Benji fished through the gear bags and activated each of the HIDES- he liked to call them. The security guards gave them a weird look- Benji suspected they were watching his little spectacle- and told them to set their luggage on the conveyor belt for scanning.

Benji shifted nervously as he passed through the metal detector and waited for his bags to pass through. Degas went through the metal detector fine, but Paris was stopped. Benji chewed his bottom lip nervously. Paris had a straight face as she took off a chain necklace with a sharp spike that could be qualified as its charm.

The security guards watched- some in awe, some not surprised in the slightest- as Paris took out two knives from each of her boots, a machete from her hip, iron knuckles from her jean pockets, and a throwing star from her pink jacket pocket.

“How did you-” Benji stuttered. “Nevermind, I don’t want to know.”

Paris glared at him.

“Ma’am we are going to have to put you under arrest,” a security guard ordered.

“What- no, no!” Benji panicked, “can’t you let her off with a warning or something?”

Nobody acknowledged him. To Benji’s alarm, the guards were suddenly detaining him and Degas as well.

“No- wait you don’t understand!” Benji shouted, “we are trying to save the world!”

“That’s what they all say,” one of the older guards snarked.

Degas and Pairs were pushed ahead of Benji.

“Hey- wait, what about our stuff!?” Benji questioned.

“It will be locked up, just like you,” the woman leading Benji away informed him.

He was pushed ahead so that he was walking next to his friends. He frowned at Paris.

“You just HAD to bring the knives,” Benji remarked.

Paris shrugged, and Benji could swear he saw her smile.

-_-

Grace opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. She fiddled with her fingers while deciding her next course of action. Gabriel had “sent her to bed” an hour ago, and she only obliged because of the gun pointed at her head. She knew there were at least 2 guards outside her door. She rolled out of bed. She slipped her boots back on and grabbed her jacket.

If she could get to Alanna’s apartment on the top floor, she’d be safe. Safer- at least. Or maybe just as in danger as she already was, because if her memory served her correctly- which it did- she drugged Alanna and posed as her to a government agent who apparently knew her as a child. She put her ear to the door. There was no sound. She looked at the window in her room.

“Damn you Ethan,” she cursed herself softly, “you’re a terrible influence.”

She tip-toed to her window and opened it as quietly as she could. Looking down at the road made her dizzy, so she turned her head as much as she could to see how many floors she’d have to climb. Twelve.

“Hooookay,” Grace sighed. She took a step back from the window. “I can do this. I got this. If Ethan could ride a motorcycle off a mountain, I can climb up 12 stories.” She paused, “how… am I going to climb up 12 stories?”

She paced around her room, “Think Grace. Think!”

She went back to the open window. She put half of herself out, and stretched her hand as far as she could. A plan was clicking in the back of her brain. Not an Ethan plan. A Grace plan. Ethan plans usually were more complicated than they needed to be. Grace plans were simple, logical, and usually a lot less likely for death.

Grace reached farther up, she suspected she could reach the next window ledge if she stood up on her window sill and climbed into the next apartment. Then she’d take the stairs.

“Yes,” she spoke to herself, “that’s a good plan. Good job Grace.”She thinned her lips. She really was going crazy if she was congratulating herself like a dog now.

Grace needed to find something to tie herself to, so if she fell, well- she wouldn’t die. She scrounged through drawers and closets as quickly and quietly as she could. There were no clothes, only a few hotel towels. She grabbed as many as she could and tied the ends together. By the time she ran out of towels, she estimated she had a little more than 12 feet. She laughed at the complete absurdity of one hotel room needing that many towels.

She tied one end around her waist, which was really quite awkward and chunky, and tied the other end to the bottom bed post. She took a deep breath and slowly placed her feet on the window sill. Her fingers brushed the edge of the window the floor above her, so she went up on her tiptoes and was able to feel the glass of the window.

Of course. “Because why would the window be open?” Grace lectured herself. She lightly knocked on the window with her nails, not daring to move her hand for the fear of losing her grip.

There was no answer. She knocked a little louder. The noise of the window opening was almost enough to scare Grace and make her lose her grip. A blonde woman in her late 20’s early 30’s stared down at her with a look of utter confusion on her face. All Grace could do was smile sheepishly.

“Is there a reason you’re hanging out of my window?” the lady asked.

“I’m being held captive and I’m trying to escape?” Grace answered with a high pitched voice.

The girl narrowed her eyes. Then, to Grace’s surprise, she offered her hand. Grace tried to keep in a smile and took her hand. The blonde lifted her up with a grunt of effort, and Grace’s torso got about halfway through the woman’s window, but was then stopped by her own towel-lasso meant to stop her from falling.

“Uh, a little help?” Grace asked a little breathlessly.

The blonde chuckled and squirmed around Grace’s head to untie the towel harness. Grace got a good look into the woman’s apartment; it was far from neat, and it had a lot of character, even for a hotel room. She smirked at the temporary Marshmallow poster by her closest.

“WoAh!” Grace yelped as she fell into the blonde’s apartment.

“So, you wanna tell me your name, window woman?” she requested, crossing her arms.

Grace got up shakily. “Um, Grace. My name is Grace.”

The blonde offered her hand, “Marti. Nice to meet you, Grace.”

Grace shook her hand. It was soft. They stared at each other for a moment. The blonde- Marti- smirked, a twinkle glowed in her green eyes.

Grace blushed and took her hand away, absentmindedly rubbing her palm in awe. Marti took a seat on her bed and raised an eyebrow in question.

“So, who are you being held captive by, exactly?” Marti asked.

Grace rubbed the back of her head, “it’s… probably best you don’t know.

“I just lifted you from my window, and I don’t get to know who I just saved you from?” She teased.

Grace pursed her lips, but didn’t reply. “Um- so, I got to go-” Grace stammered. She pointed her thumbs behind her to the door, in an awkward motion. “But-uhem- it was nice meeting you. And thank you so much for… your help.”

Grace was moving backwards while talking and tripped a few times on clothes or shoes. Her eyes didn’t leave Marti’s, even when she ran into the wall next to the door. Grace chuckled nervously and quickly exited the room. She leaned against her door and sighed.

“Get your head in the game Grace,” she whispered to herself.

“So, give me one minute to change and I’ll join you!” Marti announced. Her voice sounded clearly from behind the door, like she was standing right in front of it.

Grace smiled. Exactly one minute later, the door opened, and Marti came out. She was in an NSYNC shirt with a leather jacket paired with some tactical pants and boots. She took her arms away from her back. Grace narrowed her eyes, wondering why she had a gun.

“Where to?”

Grace opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a gunshot from downstairs. “Gabriel!”

Grace started to run, thinking Marti was behind her. She looked back and saw Marti walking.

“Ah Gabriel- a name,” Marti commented.

“Come on!” Grace ordered. She grabbed Marti’s arm and dragged her through the hallways to the stairs.

She opened the stairway doors and heard shouting. Shoot.

Chapter Text

Benji banged his head against the metal bars. “A machete, really?” be groaned.

Paris shrugged and threw the rock against the wall again. Benji turned around and walked in front of Paris. She threw it at him- aiming for the corroded spot in the wall that was just past his head- but Benji raised his arm to catch the stone. He failed.

“OW!” He shouted, “gah!” Benji rubbed his palm, and looked from Degas to Paris. He said, “we have to find a way out of here and onto the plane. It leaves in 30 minutes!” 

Paris shrugged and got up from her post on the floor, and strutted over to the bars. She took a look left and right and then stuck her arm out of the bars. 

“What-uh- what are you doing?” Benji questioned.

She didn’t answer, not like Benji expected her to. Instead, she grabbed the lock and placed a key in it.

“Wait, what?” Degas and Benji exclaimed in unison.

She opened the cell door. 

“You had a key…” Benji muttered, his voice growing louder with each word, “this WHOLE. TIME?”

Benji almost punched her. With God- and Degas- as his witness, he almost punched her. But to his credit, he held back. It took a crap ton of will, but he did it. A testimony, truly.

Benji seethed, and glared at her the entire time as he and Degas excited the cell. Paris had her arms out in a ‘you first’ kinda way. Benji made a mocking expression at her as he passed and started into a jog. He heard the rapid and heavy footfalls of his companions, well, companion and annoyance, behind him. 

He needed to come up with a new plan. Okay, new plan. Yes. I can make a new one. Um, okay- first off, how do we get on the plane?

As if hearing his thoughts, Degas voiced, “so… how do we get on the plane?”

“Um-”

Pairs threw a beanie at Benji’s face. He flinched and barely caught it. Then Paris threw glasses and a cap to Degas. 

He seemed to get her drift and nodded knowingly. “Disguises! Nice, I like the way you think.”

Where is she pulling these out from?!

Benji begrudgingly put the beanie on and and stuffed his hands in his pockets angrily. “If you’re such a genius, I don’t suppose you know how to get our stuff on the plane do you?”

Paris smirked at Degas, and he smiled back. Okay. This is getting annoying.

“What?!” Benji shouted, “why am I not a part of these telepathic conversations?”

Degas put his hand on Benji’s shoulder. Benji had half a mind to slap it away. 

“Don’t worry Benji,” Degs soothed. “Let’s just let Paris handle it.”

“Let Paris handle it,” Benji mumbled. Degas was walking ahead of him now and Benji was taking full advantage of no one being close enough to hear the words he was saying. He muttered to himself in a mocking tone, “don’t worry Benji, we’ve got it handled. Paris is such a genius.”

Paris and Degas chatted in French ahead of Benji until they finally made it back to the main area. Benji had an inkling something more was popping up between the two, but refused to think any more about it. He had a mission. Ethan needed him. The world needed him. 

Surprisingly Airport security was not paying any attention to the 3 strange people who came out of a hallway leading to airport prison. Paris whispered something to Degas and then headed off in the other direction. 

Benji walked frantically up to Degas. “Where is she going? The plan is leaving in 13 minutes!”

“She’s getting our stuff, now we have to get on the plane without getting caught,” Degas explained.

“Oh and how is she going to get all of our supplies alone?” Benji inquired.

Degas shrugged, “didn’t tell me that part. Now let’s go.”

Degas ushered Benji to their plane's entrance door and quickly adjusted his hat and glasses. There was a line of about five people, and with every person that made it through the door, the more nervous Benji became. They had their tickets, rationally they should be fine, they don’t usually do facial rec. But if for some reason, the staff managed to recognize who they were and cancel their tickets, they were screwed. 

But they shouldn’t have. Benji has an unremarkable face, Degas- is awfully handsome, but otherwise unknown, and Pairs… well you wouldn’t forget her face, but it’s not like anybody knew their names. They were just thrown in prison jail, and their bags were locked up somewhere, and Paris was somewhere in the airport, and Benji’s thoughts were spiralling into all of the worst case scenarios.

Degas must’ve seen how nervous Benji was and he gave him a reassuring look. Their turn. Benji clasped his hands nervously. 

“Tickets?” the flight attendant asked.

Benji fished his out of his pocket and held it under the scanner. Seconds passed- though they felt like hours- and the scanner chimed and turned green. Benji uttered the biggest sigh of relief and quickly shut his mouth when he saw the flight attendant’s suspicious face.

Degas noticed her face too and quickly- and nonchalantly- came up with a smooth explanation. “He’s paranoid. One time- ONE- his ticket didn’t work and he’s always so worried about it now!”

Benji was actually impressed with how seamlessly Degas came up with the lie. He was going so far as to actually reconstruct a whole story and win the woman’s condolences. The woman started laughing at a part where Benji apparently cried from relief on a flight back home from Greece, scared he would never get home. 

Benji rolled his eyes when the woman squeezed Degas arm and smiled at him as he entered the aircraft. “I’m impressed,” Benji commented. 

“Thanks,” Degas chuckled.

“Now it’s up to Paris,” Benji noted sourly.

“ ‘Done.’ ”

Benji whipped around and saw the blonde walking towards them with an oversized hoodie on and one of Benji’s carry-on bags.

Benji went slackjaw. “H-how, how did you…?”

Degas started laughing heartily. Paris smiled and shouldered her way past Benji, somehow managing to place his carry-on bag strap in his hands. Benji’s mouth remained open the entire walk into the plane. 

“Insane French people,” Benji whispered.

Benji took a seat in the aisle, he didn’t want to get in the middle of whatever weird thing was happening between the French woman and the government agent. The plane took off, but that only alleviated some of Benji’s fear. The other ¾ of that fear included the questions: what if Paris didn’t get the right bags? What if they don’t make it in time? What if everything goes wrong?

Benji laid his head back and closed his eyes. He let the relaxing feeling of flying lull him to sleep, and when he awoke an hour later the plane was peaceful. Degas was sleeping next to him, and Paris was occupying herself with sharpening a knife that she managed to smuggle on board. Benji ignored that part. He grabbed a bag of peanuts from the flight attendant and set in his seat thinking for a few minutes.