Prompt: "Wake up!"
Title: Free, But On The Run
Fandom: Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation
Warnings: Descriptions of blood, choking/suffocation and bruises.
Word Count: 4,581 (too long)
Synopsis: Agent Ethan Hunt and Communications Specialist Y/N L/N are on the run from the CIA and every other government organization known to man. Having successfully evaded them for the last four months, it comes as a surprise when the pair find themselves far closer to the jaws of captivity than ever before, with a new, unknown and highly trained figure hunting them down.
----
Free, But On The Run
Rain pounds against and thunder rattles the window as you roll onto your side, blinking a few times against the dim darkness and the rising grain in your eyes.
Fatigue plagues your bleary gaze and your hazy thoughts, but even in your exhausted state, your body just refuses to sleep.
You almost feel a certain jealousy towards the man sleeping soundly at your side, the steady rhythm of his soft breathing keeping you company along with the rain.
It had been quite a day - what was the usual morning grocery and coffee run had turned into a flurry of chaos that even your fuzzy thoughts can still remember oh so vividly.
The minute you'd stepped into the small store, thanking Ethan with a genuine smile as you'd walked through the open door with him following behind on your heels, you'd quickly sensed something wasn't right.
The usual cashier wasn't at her till, nor was the barista behind the counter of the coffee shop off to the side, a welcoming grin upon his features.
Instead, the store was seemingly dead - not a single person to be seen... not even any music playing over the loudspeakers.
Your Partner had instantly grabbed your bicep and pulled you close from behind, earning a light huff from you.
"What is it, Ethan?" You'd whispered, your voice sounding incredibly loud in the already silent space.
His grip around your arm tightens slightly, and that's when you'd noticed you'd both come to a halt.
As well as the darkly clad figure who was standing at the end of the aisle, hood falling over his gaze, a rifle slung over his shoulder, a handgun casually held in his grasp.
"You should know better than to be this predictable, Hunt," He'd rasped, an almost soulless gaze being lifted to meet the pair of you, your own surprised gazes urgently assessing the situation at hand. "It was beyond easy to track you down. And I see you've got yourself a little lady friend. Who's she?"
An anger coupled with fear had swelled within you as Ethan stepped forward, the hand that had been around your bicep touching your shoulder in reassurance as he'd passed you by.
"I was about to ask you a similar question," The Agent standing in front of you had mused, tone laced with something you'd been surprised to hear, a surge of emotions bubbling in your chest.
Protectiveness.
"Who the hell are you?"
At this, the figure had chuckled, the awful, choked sounding sound echoing in the quiet grocery store.
"I'm your demise, Ethan. You can thank your former IMF friends for that."
And as the figure had uttered those words, he'd also lunged forward, bolting towards you and your Partner with such speed - your body struggled to react.
But, thankfully, years of training had its benefits and you'd still somehow managed to jump out of the way as Ethan dove the other, the pair of you now flanking your newfound aggressor.
"Who the hell is this guy?" You'd muttered, regaining your breath as the adrenaline had kicked in, any previous fatigue being shoved aside. "Is the CIA seriously hiring criminals to come after us now?"
Ducking behind the nearby freezers, the pair of you had sat for a moment, hearts pounding, thoughts attempting to process everything.
"To them, we're already the same as he is. Why not get one of us on your side for a while? Do the dirty work for you?" Ethan chuckled lowly, shaking his head as he'd risked a glance towards where you'd both came from, a heavy sigh escaping him.
"What is it?"
"We can't take this guy on - not here, not now. He's probably got backup somewhere... that would explain the empty store..."
"So what's our play?"
"We get out of here and get back to the safehouse without being followed. Then, we pack and get on the move."
A sadness had sunk in your heart upon hearing those words from Ethan as you'd crouched behind those freezers that smelt an awful lot like fish.
And that same sadness had followed you to where you currently lay, still staring at the bleak ceiling of this new dingy apartment you'd both found somewhere in... London? Paris? Amsterdam?
You can hardly remember where you are these days - but one thing's for sure, you're certainly not back home in the States.
Sighing heavily, you pull yourself to a sitting position and swing your legs out of bed, the coolness of the tile even evident through your wool socks.
Winter is fast approaching, that's for sure.
And you'd almost thought, just for a moment, that it was finally all over.
It felt like you were living a normal life - with someone who cares about you at your side, along for the ride of whatever time may bring.
But then, this morning - everything had changed.
Damned shady figures - always lurking... watching... waiting...
Shaking your head as if to clear it, you slide out from beneath the covers and leave the bed behind, padding towards the small kitchenette in hopes to find something to drink.
Your footsteps barely make a sound louder than the rain pattering against the old and rickety window panes, the odd rumble of thunder crackling through the evening air, the brief illumination of lightning lighting up your small surroundings.
Gently grabbing a cup and placing it on the counter before turning on the faucet with careful hands, the water begins to run, the shrillness of the droplets against the metal making you wince.
You're trying to be quiet - it's a rare occurrence that Ethan is sleeping as well as he is tonight. You know how much he struggles against warped memories of the past and haunting nightmares of the future.
And after this morning's showdown in the grocery store coupled with the urgent relocation, he deserves the rest.
Filling your cup and softly turning off the tap with a piercing squeak, you sigh, pulling back the blinds of the kitchen window just enough to peer outside.
The window is stained with water droplets from the relentless storm, the lights of the city seem almost to be alive through the rainy picture.
And for a moment, as you stand there, in the dark, gaze wandering the cityscape outside with a glass of water in hand, the sadness ebbs away a bit.
"Can't sleep?" A sudden familiarly warm tone sounds from behind you, a strong arm sliding around your waist, his breath tickling your cheek.
You jump slightly at the suddenness of his actions, though you quickly feel yourself relax into his presence, setting your glass of water aside.
"Geez, Ethan - be a bit louder next time you sneak up on me, yeah?"
At this, he just chuckles, the closeness of him to you coupled with his response, making you blush.
Thankfully you're not facing him.
He'd see right through you in a heartbeat.
And honestly, you're not too sure if you're ready to admit to yourself nor to him, that you feel actual feelings.
"No promises," He practically whispers, using his arm around your waist to slowly turn you towards him, your back now up against the counter, gaze hastily avoiding his.
But when yet another flash of lightning illuminates the room, and with it, the handsome features of the man standing in front of you, you can't help but tentatively raise your eyes to meet his.
Only to find him already looking towards you, a certain concerned fondness in his green gaze.
His hair is growing back longer than before after he'd cut it short, months ago... though, there's no trace of stubble on his features - he must've shaved earlier when he had a shower.
"I'm sorry I woke you," You finally mumble, frowning softly as a pang of compassion rises within you. "I was trying to be quiet, I just didn't expect the sink to be that damn loud."
Once more, Ethan just chuckles, the glimmer in his gaze growing.
"It's fine, no harm done. But that's not what woke me."
"Oh?"
Your Partner's larger figure steps closer to you, a rough yet gentle hand grasping yours.
And almost instantly, you feel your cheeks heat up, thankful for the darkness.
"You weren't beside me. That's what woke me," He explains, an almost sheepish tone in his voice, though you barely notice it - too bothered by the warmth on your cheeks.
Swallowing down your nerves and emotions, you give the hand holding yours a soft squeeze, sidestepping away from the counter and towards the bed.
"So why don't we head back to bed, then? I'm not going anywhere this time."
Ethan simply nods as you both wordlessly pad back towards the bed at the far side of the room, slipping under the covers and reaching for one another once more.
"Get some sleep, Y/N."
****
You'd been awoken by the sound of soft music and fresh coffee, accompanied by the light buzz of traffic outside.
Rolling onto your back, you blink a few times, gaze adjusting to the sunlight filtering through the curtains flowing freely with the odd breeze dancing through the open window at your side.
"Coffee's on," A familiar tone calls as you pull yourself to a sitting position, rubbing the grain from your eyes as footsteps near you. "How'd you sleep?"
Removing your hands from your eyes, you blink rapidly before focusing on the figure now in front of you, a warm gaze and genuine smile meeting your vision.
"Better," You reply simply, the comfortingly secure feeling of the Agent's arms around you in the depths of the night, a welcome memory that brings a grin to your lips. "So what's the plan for today? We should probably figure out what yesterday's fiasco was all about, yeah?"
At this, Ethan sighs, wandering back towards the kitchen in an attempt to give you some privacy as you slide out of bed and begin to get dressed for the day.
"That should be priority number one," He replies, a slight delay in his response as you shed your shirt, tossing the piece of fabric absentmindedly onto the bed.
"Agreed."
Keeping the sweatpants on that you'd slept in, you wander towards the kitchenette, grabbing a mug from the cupboard and pouring the warm caffeinated beverage into it, relishing the feeling of it in your grasp.
"So where do we start?" You muse, taking a seat across from your Partner at the small, rather ugly looking table, the chair squeaking at your weight.
"They've likely figured out where we are by now, but maybe we make it known."
"Make it known? What are you thinking, Ethan?"
The brunet frowns slightly, the figurative gears beginning to work in his mind.
"We let them know we're here. We let them come to us."
Now it's your turn to frown, his suggestion raising your concern.
"Are you sure that's the best idea? We have no idea how many there might be," You hum, mentally running through the scenario in your mind.
"It's the CIA - at most they hired five. Any more and they've got extra funding from somewhere else that doesn't care what they do with the money," Ethan chuckles, taking a sip of his coffee, eyes wandering over the front cover of the newspaper that's sitting between the pair of you.
'Winter Market and Craft Sale,' You skim over the subheading, an idea pricking your thoughts as a grin plays on your lips.
"How about we go for a walk through the Market this afternoon?"
Your Partner huffs a chuckle, finishing his cup before setting it down with a clack.
"Sounds like a wonderful idea."
****
It had been a cold afternoon as you'd walked through the vendors lining the street, arm in arm with your Partner.
Having stopped at a local thrift store before relocating, you'd both swapped out your clothing for something warmer than what you'd had before.
Ethan had donned a heavier leather jacket, accompanied by black jeans, a plaid button down, a black long-sleeve Henley shirt and a pair of boots that had been the only ones in seemingly decent shape.
You'd gone in a similar direction - a more utilitarian jacket and cargo pants paired with the only decent looking long-sleeve you'd been able to find.
Women's clothing was always more difficult to source these days. Especially when you needed it.
Half the time, you'd be better off wearing something from the men's section, but when you're trying to blend in...
With a shake of your head, you'd cleared your thoughts for a moment, your gaze be being raised to survey your surroundings.
It was hard not to get lost in the illusion of acting so nonchalant... so normal as you'd wandered through the streets, admiring the handiwork of the locals.
But, the plan had worked.
Three individuals, clearly not dressed for the occasion, stuck out like sore thumbs amongst the crowd of well bundled people - their presence dotting the colorful sea with specks of black.
And when they'd laid eyes on you and Ethan, they'd instantly taken the bait and began to pursue you both through the plethora of people.
Taking that as your cue, you and your Partner had picked up the pace and began the obnoxiously long pre-planned route back towards the safehouse.
The objective was to do this in two parts.
Part one; give your pursuers a general idea of your location - attempt to tire them out.
Part two; reveal your exact location and lure them in, bringing the inevitable fight to somewhere both you and Ethan have the upper hand in.
But as you ran, keeping an even pace with the man at your side, that nagging feeling of sadness mixed with dread had crept upon you.
And even now, as you gaze out the kitchen window upon the darkening city skyline for what seems to be the thousandth time since you'd burst through the door mere hours ago, the dread follows.
"Something isn't right about all of this," You murmur, hastily closing the blinds and turning towards the main area, eyes wandering over Ethan's tank-topped figure, examining his Beretta under a scrutinizing gaze.
"It'll work out," He assures, unloading the handgun's magazine and checking the rounds, setting both aside before turning to meet your worried figure. "It has to. It's our only chance to shake these guys off our trail."
"I hope you're right."
Sighing heavily, you wordlessly pad towards the man you've spent countless hours with, tired gaze resting heavy on him, his embrace a welcome sensation.
"We'll be okay," Comes the softest of reassuring murmurs, his tone wavering slightly, almost as if he'd trying to assure himself.
Which, he likely is.
Silently agreeing as you step away from one another, the lights are all switched out as you both pass them by on your way towards the bed, both handguns being loaded and picked up by their respective owners as well.
Handguns of which are neatly stowed away on either side of the bed, out of sight, but not out of reach.
Sliding beneath the covers and getting comfortable, you allow a sigh to escape you yet again, your anxious feelings creeping up once more.
Your gaze wanders the bleak ceiling, mind abuzz of possibilities of everything that could go wrong.
Heck, for all you know, this could be your last night alive.
As that thought crosses your mind, you instinctively shift closer towards Ethan's warm figure, seeking solace in his presence.
And for a moment...
It works.
****
"Get her up."
"Without waking him?!"
"Get her up!"
"But what if-"
"Wake up!"
The sudden voice is so loud and demanding, you bolt awake with a start, breathing erratic, eyes wide, scanning the inky darkness of the room that surrounds you.
Instinctively, you reach towards the drawer of your nightstand for your firearm, only to pause in harsh realization as the cool metal of something all too familiar against your forehead.
"Make a single sound and I kill you."
Eyes wide, you slowly raise your gaze to the looming figure holding your gun to your head, only to be met with a mere resemblance of a human face, clad in a black mask, eyes shrouded by a hood and a pair of dark sunglasses.
Another, more cowardly looking individual stands off to the side, also training a handgun at you, though even through the dim darkness, you can see the trembling in his hands.
"You're coming with us - no questions asked. You got that, little lady?" The masked figure sneers, the barrel of the firearm being pressed into your skin, likely drawing blood.
Even though you should be able to restrain your panic after all that you've been through in your lifetime, for the second time in your life, you find yourself panicking, alone, with only mere strangers to keep you company.
"Now get up - slowly."
Sucking in a deep breath, you do as you're told, silently pulling yourself to a sitting position and swinging your feet over the bed, the barrel of the gun still pressed firmly into your skull.
"Let's go. Don't even think of grabbing anything."
Stumbling through the inky black velvet with nothing but mere instinct to go on, you squeeze your eyes shut, visualizing the layout of what you should be walking past to get outside.
The kitchen counter... there was a bottle...
A glass one too - a glass bottle of fancy sparkling water had been all you'd been able to afford as a celebratory beverage when you'd arrived to this new location, relatively safe and sound.
Smirking to yourself, you purposely falter your strides and flail your arms as if to catch yourself, only to successfully feel the smooth neck of the glass bottle in your grasp.
You instantly take action, picking up the bottle and swinging it towards the masked figure's head, holding you captive.
And with a grunt of pain and the piercing sound of shattering glass as it breaks against his skull, you take your opportunity, kicking your captor's feet out from underneath him, sending him tumbling to the ground.
"Don't just stand there! Do something!" He screams, enraged, towards his other man in the room, who'd been already at the door.
And apparently, as you dodge a fist that whizzes by your face from the masked man who'd somehow clambered back to his feet, his idea of doing something was to bee-line towards where they'd nabbed you from, mere minutes ago.
Mistake on your part, Pal.
Suddenly, a shot rings out that sends you and your aggressor ducking instinctively towards the floor.
And a strangled, garbled cry of agony follows, quickly falling silent.
A light is turned on, bathing the apartment in a warm yellow hue.
Illuminating your surroundings and the now dead body upon the floor.
Leaving just you...
The masked aggressor...
And Agent Ethan Hunt.
"You lay a finger on her and you'll be next!" Your Partner warns sternly, tone not wavering, gaze trained down his own firearm at the darkly clad figure.
You could swear you hear the shadowy figure chuckle as he lunges towards you, grabbing your own firearm once more and putting you in a chokehold so fast, you struggle to comprehend if all of this is really happening.
Ethan seems to be sharing the same shock as he shifts his stance, blinking a few times as if to confirm that what he's seeing is indeed reality.
"Too slow, Hunt," Your captor jeers, the cool, stinging metal now pressing firmly into the side of your head, the blood from the wound on your forehead slowly dripping down your face. "Have you gone soft with all this runnin' around? Surely not. The renowned Ethan Hunt... has a soft spot for some girl? Incredible."
"You shut the hell up!"
You're beginning to shake now, unshed tears threatening to spill over as your panic comes back at you, full force.
"What are you gonna do, Ethan? She's running out of air pretty quickly..."
Your Partner's stern green gaze is resting solely on you now, and even through your tunneling vision, you can see the gleam of desperation in his eyes.
"You let her go and we'll both turn ourselves in."
His words hang in the air as you feel yourself beginning to struggle even more against your captor's firm grip around your neck, vision finally giving way...
Only for it to come rushing back to you all at once, the arm around your neck suddenly loosened enough to allow oxygen into your lungs as you cough and splutter, gasping for precious breath.
"Turn yourselves in? To who?" The man holding you pauses, a laugh falling from his lips. "Don't tell me you two are on the run from your own government!"
Shock ripples through you at the sudden development.
"Who the hell are you and your friends supposed to be, then?" Ethan orders, stepping closer to where you're kneeling, your captor's grip tightening around your neck again, the gun pressing deeper into your skin.
"We were sent to kill you! Where the hell did you get the idea that you could just waltz back into your organization and get away with everything you've done?!"
The arm is restraining your lungs of precious air yet again as your Partner steps closer, an anger you have never seen before alight in his gaze.
"Kill me first, then. But do it properly if you're gonna bother with it. Let her go and let's go a few rounds."
Ethan's firearm clatters to the floor as he kicks it away, shrugging casually to the shadowy figure.
And his nonchalant attitude seems to work.
You swear you can feel his smirk as he roughly shoves you to the floor, your body aching in protest, weak from the struggles for oxygen you'd just endured.
The masked man also tosses your gun aside, far beyond your reach.
And all you can do is watch it as it spins lazily across the wooden floor and into the tiled section of the kitchen.
"You sure you want to do this, Hunt?"
"Are you?"
The chaos ensues.
You can hear their hits landing upon one another, the grumbles of pain and cries of agony as they do.
But as you lay there, catching your breath and trying to determine how the hell you and Ethan are both gonna walk from this one, you let out a cry of alarm and pain, a piece of your hair being stepped on and pulled away by the shadowy figure, gaining his attention.
And that's when you realize your mistake.
The man who'd nearly choked you to death minutes prior, now focuses his attention on you and your already beaten figure, a booted foot making contact with your stomach, earning a strangled cry of agony from you.
"Really? Kicking her while she's down?" Ethan yells in disbelief, tackling the figure to the ground beside you, landing a flurry of punches to his masked facial features.
But then, your Partner is sent reeling, clattering against the few pieces of furniture at the far side of the room, the darkly clad figure regaining his footing and once more looming over top of you.
"She's going to scream your name and there's nothing you'll be able to do to help her."
Your eyes widen in alarm as you're picked up roughly by the arm and shoved towards the wall, a hand this time finding its way around your neck.
"Or she'll try at least."
In your battered, bruised and beaten state, all you can do is accept your fate and watch as your Partner shakily clambers back to his feet, eyes widening in horror at the sight in front of him.
"Just go, Ethan," You rasp aloud, a pleading you didn't even realize was possible, falling into your tone. "Get out of here."
"I'm not leaving you, Y/N!"
His voice is filled with so much desperation, anger and disbelief, it simply shatters your heart into a million pieces, your eyes instinctively closing in preparation for the struggle that is about to endure yet again.
"I told you, Ethan! I'm your demise! And killing her is just the beginning of your suffering!"
You're beginning to feel yourself fighting for air, your thoughts beginning to slow, eyes opening to take one last look at... life.
And all you see is...
An empty room?
Where did he...?
Another shot rings out in the small space, the shrill of it ringing in your eardrums, the sudden feeling of agony in your right arm resonating with you as the grip around your neck goes slack.
And the next thing you know, you're falling - though a familiar set of strong arms catch you on your way down, the inert body of your captor crumbling to the floor after you.
Ethan hurriedly scoops your trembling body into his arms, his own figure shaking against yours as he embraces you.
"I couldn't think of anything else," He murmurs shakily as you cling to him as if your life depends on it, not fully recognizing the meaning behind his words. "I'm so sorry."
That's when you notice the crimson stain and the tear of your long-sleeved shirt.
He'd shot you.
Well, he'd shot the masked, shadowy figure.
The bullet just happened to graze your arm as it exited and buried itself into the wall, mere inches from you.
"It's okay," Is all you can manage to breathe out, repeating it once more as if to reassure yourself. "I'm okay."
The pair of you stay like that for a while, simply holding one another's trembling figures, two dead bodies littering the wooden floor of what was once a tidy apartment.
But it's almost as if Ethan doesn't recognize the gruesome scene surrounding the two of you, his concern more focused on you and your injuries rather than he or the quickly becoming crimson floorboards.
His fingers trail over your already bruising neck, all the way to your forehead, wiping away the damp blood where it had fallen around your eye with his thumb.
"Let's get you patched up," He hums, hooking his arms beneath your shoulders and guiding you to your feet, your balance wavering for the few seconds he leaves you standing on your own.
Practically carrying you towards the kitchen, he wordlessly sits you down at the table before hurrying away from your dazed vision, returning moments later with an ancient looking First Aid kit and a glass of water.
"Thank you, Ethan."
Your sudden raspy expression of gratitude seems to take the Agent by surprise, a questioning gaze meeting yours.
You merely offer him a small smile, furthering your thanks as he simply huffs in reply, a grin of his own tugging at the edges of his lips.
And as wounds are cleaned and bandaged with careful, steady and practiced hands, you find yourself finally feeling at ease, your hands suddenly finding your Partner's wrists, momentarily halting his actions.
"You've got to at least let me patch you up, too."
Ethan sets aside the roll of gauze he'd been holding before pulling over the other chair to your side, passing your still slightly shaky hands a cotton pad and some cleaning solution.
"Thank you," He mumbles teasingly, quoting your own words from before, a smirk falling upon his handsome features.
And even in your exhausted and beaten states, a spark of something you can't quite make out ignites between the two of you.
Foreheads find each other and for a moment, all is still, other than your mingled breaths.
You're free for a while longer.
Free to spend your days alongside a man who truly cares about you... and you about he.
One way or another, you'll eventually run out of time.
But tonight... For a while longer, the clock continues to tick.
Counting down the days of freedom.