*Cross-posted from my 30 days of assorted one-shots book!
Prompt: "Think! For once!" (Alternate prompt to substitute for "Stay quiet!")
Title: Against The Odds
Fandom: Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (Literally my favorite!)
Warnings: Mentions of bruises? (I dunno if that's a warning, but better to be safe than sorry, I guess.)
Word Count: 3,073
Synopsis: With setback after setback, the remaining agents of the IMF still somehow manage to push through and make the impossible happen, but will they be able to this time? When yet another problem arises with one of their Teammates otherwise occupied to settle the situation, Agent Y/N L/N must step in and make the call which could very well be the call that saves the world from Nuclear War. But will the conflict between her own Team prevent her from doing so?
----
Against The Odds
Of course things had to go wrong.
Let's just keep adding to the list, shall we?
You drag a palm down your face in a vain attempt to stay calm, watching the expressions and stances of your Teammates around you shift towards the man behind the laptop, the clacking of keys gone silent.
"We'll just have to go into the server room from the outside," Benji states simply, offering a pained smile of reassurance, trying to ease the tension gradually building in the suite acting as your temporary base of operations.
Shaking your head and pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh, taking a seat across from the communications expert, though your gaze isn't focused on him.
No, you're silently watching your Partner's reaction, an evidently stressed hand being raised and ran through his hair.
"And without server access?" You muse aloud, posing the question that your three other Teammates are likely wondering as well.
"No security cameras, no elevators, no nothing," Comes the reply, earning a frustrated sigh from the IMF's Chief Analyst you'd picked up back in Moscow by mere chance, while Ethan just closes his eyes with a shake of his head, wandering towards the large, floor-to-ceiling windows, muttering to himself.
"This Mission is already over before it's even begun," Brandt states plainly, disapproval laced thick in his tone as he glances at the phone in his grasp, a timer clearly set. "We're running out of time here, folks. Better get the ball rolling if we're actually gonna pull this ridiculous idea off!"
You simply sit there, sort of dumbfounded by the analyst's incapability to get a fix on the scenario and the fact that your Partner is practically pacing now, his thoughts evidently moving a mile a minute, clearly searching for an answer to the problem at hand.
"No, it's not over," You assure the room, your voice gaining everyone's attention. "We've just got to figure out how to work around this."
A silence settles as the timer continues to tick away precious seconds, your own thoughts continuing to come up empty.
It'll be locked on the outside... and picking a lock wouldn't be quick enough... and the cameras... we'd be busted almost instantly.
But then, Benji practically bolts up from his seat, an urgency you didn't even know was possible from him in his steps as he scurries towards a nearby duffel bag, murmuring to himself.
"I know I put them in here, I know I did..."
"What do you have in mind, Benji?" You urge, twisting in your seat to face where he's crouched, placing other mismatched items aside as he continues to rummage through the bag.
"Aha!"
Unzipping a carrying case and removing the item, a sudden tone pierces the quiet room as the communications specialist tosses the item towards where Ethan stands, the thud of it landing and sticking against the window earning a surprised huff from you.
A surprise which your Partner certainly seems to share, turning to face his friend with a look of uncertain disbelief on his features.
"You're kidding me."
Benji just wordlessly shakes his head.
****
"Okay, the hotel server is eleven stories up and seven units over!" You barely hear Brandt's tone from the living room, seeming to be urging you and your Partner to hurry up from where you'd retreated for a moment, an unspoken concern having been previously exchanged with a simple glance.
"I could do this instead, if you wanted," You suggest softly, passing the man in front of you a pair of goggles, which he wordlessly sits around his neck. "There'd be no problem with that."
At this, Ethan just sighs, gaze lowering from yours for a moment before once more making contact.
"No," He states, a slight wavering in his tone that you've only heard on a few occasions throughout your career alongside him. "I need you here to keep an eye on everyone else."
But there's something more in Ethan's words that you almost catch onto instantly, a sinking feeling swelling within you.
"You need me here in case things go wrong," You correct with a thin-lipped smile, raising a suddenly trembling hand to his chest, smoothing out a wrinkle of the fabric. "So we can complete the Mission without you."
"Yeah," Is all he returns, his other hand finding the small of your back and pulling you close, your head resting where your hand had been previously been lying.
Your Partner's heart is practically beating out of his chest and for one of the few times in your life, a wave of icy fear dances down your spine.
He's terrified.
The Ethan Hunt - scared.
"It's twenty-six minutes to door-knock! Let's go!"
That's the analyst's tone again, rising in impatience.
"You'll do that for me," The man holding you close breathes, his breath tickling your skin. "Regardless of whatever happens: the Mission comes first."
Swallowing a rising lump in your throat, you step away from his larger figure, blinking back a sudden flurry of tears you hadn't even realized had risen to your eyes, merely nodding stiffly in response.
"Ethan, we're running low on time!"
That's Benji's voice.
You'd know it from anywhere.
Once more, Ethan sighs heavily, something unspoken glimmering in his gaze as he passes you yet another glance, wordlessly taking your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
To which you return with equal force, knowing right well he needs the reassurance far more than you in this moment.
Composing yourselves, the pair of your stride back into the main area, the rather baffled appearance of Jane Carter standing in the doorway, a dry-cleaning bag tossed over her shoulder.
"What is going on?" She muses aloud, gaze skimming over your Partner's oddly dressed figure as he wanders over towards where Benji is waiting, the gloves in hand.
"Ethan's climbing to the server room," Brandt states plainly, once more glancing at his timer. "23 minutes to door-knock guys! It's now or never!"
"I'm sorry, he's what?"
"He'll be fine, Jane! He's got this!" Benji exclaims far too enthusiastically as Ethan just winces, once more checking the two items the communications expert put on his belt before stepping towards the open window that had been cut out previously.
"Oh, That's high," Brandt mumbles as you follow Ethan towards the open window, coming to a halt on the very edge.
"Here goes nothing."
You hold your breath as your Partner precariously clambers out into the whistling wind, the gloves doing their job sticking to the windowpane, their whirring a tell-tale sign of that fact.
And the next thing you know, he begins to climb, making quick work of it, too.
Inwardly, you chuckle.
It's always been rather impressive to you that Ethan Hunt can almost adapt to any situation to a literal tee - a skill that in your time alongside him, he's managed to pass on to you.
A skill that is proving more and more necessary as time stretches forward, the uncertainty of having no IMF to back up the actions of you and your Team looming on the horizon.
And as Ethan completely disappears from your view, the sinking feeling from earlier returns almost full force, the chatter from your fellow Agents behind you merely a distant drone...
"L/N. L/N? L/N!"
Blinking a few times, you whirl around to face the source of the voice, the now rather frantic face of Benji Dunn meeting your gaze.
"Wistrom is ahead of schedule."
Eyes widening in surprise, you leave the open window behind, scurrying towards where your Teammate is standing, peering down at the laptop screen in astonishment.
"Can you slow him down?" You blurt, your mind becoming abuzz with a sudden panic as you join Benji at his side, the very grainy figure walking right towards the small camera Agent Carter had set up in the lobby to keep an eye on the front door.
"Not without server access."
"Which Ethan is getting to..."
But then, something else catches your eye from the low resolution live feed playing in front of you.
"There's someone else with him," The man at your side states plainly, tone almost as surprised as you.
"Brandt," You muse sternly, turning to face the analyst who's simply standing off to the side, observing everything unfold as you pass him a rather displeased look.
"What?" He hums back in response, gesturing towards Benji. "I'm just the helper, right?"
Muttering to yourself, you shake your head with a sigh, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.
"You're an analyst - who's with Wistrom?"
Frowning as he nears, Brandt joins you at your side, his own gaze skimming over the pixelated screen capture from the live feed.
"That's Leonid Lisenker. Polish-born cryptographer. He redesigned Russia's nuclear security after the Cold War."
"He's here to authenticate the launch codes," You breathe, that sinking feeling rising within you once again, threatening to drag you down with it.
But you shake your head as if to clear it, re-focusing on the here and now.
"Yes. He is. We are blown," Brandt sighs heavily, earning a confused and baffled glare from you and Benji - even Jane stops her movements, getting the briefcase and it's paper organized for go-time.
"We're not blown," You assure, tone stern as you raise a finger to your earpiece, opening the line between you and your Partner, who you can only hope is able to hear you over the howling wind. "Ethan, we have a situation down here. Wistrom brought a cryptographer to authenticate the codes."
The only reply you get for a moment is the whistling wind, though you could swear you hear Ethan curse aloud, no doubt frustrated beyond immeasurable proportions.
"So we make an identical copy of the codes. He officiates them, then it's just a matter of not letting Wistrom get out of our sights," The man on the other end of the line suggests, a huff of effort falling from his lips. "I'm almost to server level. Once I'm in, then we can at least slow them down."
Handing over active Nuclear launch codes?
You blink a few times at your Partner's suggestion, though his logic is sound.
We have the element of surprise and supposedly numbers, on our side.
"Copy all," You reply softly, a sigh falling from your lips. "Let us know when you're in."
"Copy."
Turning on your heel, your gaze wanders over the now almost quiet room, other than the howling wind from the open window.
All eyes are on you - waiting for you to say something... anything.
"Benji," You begin, praying your tone doesn't sound as desperate as you're feeling. "How long would it take you to re-program the case?"
"A couple of seconds, why?"
You sigh heavily, gaze flicking towards Brandt who is staring you down, seeming to be quickly piecing together your next few words.
"To make an identical copy of the launch codes."
At this, the analyst's eyes widen in utter shock, his figure almost instantly dashing towards where the case lies as he scoops it up, raising a hand out towards you as if to ward you off.
"What?!" He exclaims, sheer disbelief in his tone. "You can't do that! You're talking about handing over active Nuclear launch codes to a terrorist who wants to insight Nuclear War!"
"Yes," You state firmly, nearing where he stands slowly, desperately attempting to settle the sudden rise in tension. "We have the upper hand here - the element of surprise. We hand off the codes to Wistrom but don't let him even get the chance of leaving this hotel. Instead, we use him as bait - let Hendricks come to us to get the codes he wants so much."
"No. We let it play out. Hand off bad codes and see what happens. We can't hand over active Nuclear launch codes, Y/N!"
"Wistrom's probably in the elevator by now, guys!" Benji warns, watching the showdown between your almost trembling figure and Brandt's defensive one, the case clutched with white knuckles.
"Come on, Brandt. We're running out of time. You said so yourself! Now, hand over the case and let's re-think this."
The analyst just shakes his head, defiance sparking in his gaze.
"I can't let that happen."
Steeling yourself, you feel the frustration blossom as heat on your cheeks, your fists clenching in sheer annoyance and anger.
"Just hand over the briefcase, Brandt! Think! For once! Just think! The Mission is Hendricks! Not the codes. We lose Wistrom today, we lose Hendricks. And that's a chance I don't think any of us are willing to take."
The man in front of you shifts slightly, though he doesn't budge.
"Active launch codes. Active launch codes!" He fumes, stepping away from you. "No. We are not doing that. We'll figure out another way."
Sighing heavily, you narrow your eyes at the analyst, continuing to pace towards him as he paces back.
"You are running out of time!"
That's Benji again, his tone laced with urgency.
"I made it to the server," A rather breathless sounding Ethan cuts through your thoughts, his tone filtering through your earpiece and the speakers on the laptop the communications expert sits behind, merely watching your showdown. "Please tell me we're online."
"Affirmative. We are online. Great job Ethan."
Now get back down here, please...
"It's now or never, Brandt," You practically seethe now, your patience wearing far too thin. "Hand over the case so Benji can re-program it."
The analyst simply shakes his head.
And something inside of you snaps.
Lunging towards the man holding the briefcase, you practically tackle him to the ground, the case falling from his grip and skittering across the floor.
"Jane! Grab the damn case and get to Benji!" You order with a cry of pain, one of Brandt's fists making contact with your side, effectively sending you reeling.
Curiosity pricks your thoughts as you rush towards his larger figure again, stopping him in his tracks towards the briefcase, where your Teammate is quickly snatching it up and hurrying across the room.
"You're the analyst," You state, voice straining as you attempt to hold him in a chokehold, his strength surprising as you struggle against him. "Now, you tell me that there isn't another way Hendricks can get these codes, that we're his only avenue to achieve his goal. You tell me that we'll forget this ever happened."
Yet another blow to the stomach sends you reeling yet again, your grip on the analyst faltering as he clambers to his feet, seeming to be debating his next move, his gaze not leaving yours.
"Wistrom's on 33 and climbing!" Jane exclaims, turning to face you where you're kneeling, attempting to regain your breath, your own gaze locked on Brandt, who's also struggling to catch his breath back. "Come on, you two! It's already done."
Wordlessly, the man standing above you extends a hand down towards you, offering you help up off of the floor.
Which you accept with a sigh as you're pulled back to your feet, your side aching in protest, the area where your arm had been around his neck a bright red.
"Thanks for nearly choking me out," Brandt mutters, a tension still very much so evident in between you both. "I really appreciate it when my own Teammates tackle me to the ground."
"You didn't leave me much of a choice," You return, voice firm, wincing slightly as you step forward.
"Case is re-programmed," Benji informs, offering a small smile your way before hurrying towards where Jane had laid out the paper and other necessary gear, earlier.
You merely nod your thanks as you raise a finger to your ear, inwardly hoping your Partner is on his way down.
"Ethan? Status update?..."
Your sentence trails off, however, as the front door to the room flies open, a evidently disheveled looking Ethan Hunt hastily rushing in, the door being slammed shut, his gaze wandering over the four of you and the mess of the room around you.
"What the hell did I miss?"
****
"When his fist made contact with my side, that's when it dawned on me, that maybe our analyst hasn't always been an analyst," You murmur, voice low.
Wordlessly, you watch as your Partner buttons up his dress shirt, his own gaze skimming you over where you sit on the edge of the large, untouched king sized bed this suite had to offer in it's master bedroom.
"That could be," He hums softly, running a hasty hand through his hair before nearing you, asking something unspoken with just his eyes.
Taking a seat at your side, you feel him gently lift the fabric of the shirt you wear, his fingers ghosting over the skin of your side, his touch sending a shiver down your spine as you just close your eyes, enjoying the millisecond of this moment.
"You'll definitely be bruised, but you'll be fine."
"Yeah," You chuckle with a sigh, allowing your eyes to open once more, your gaze meeting Ethan's. "I've been dealt far worse."
"We both have."
A beat of silence settles between the pair of you as you both simply sit there, the realization of how dire things already are and much worse they quickly could become, sinking in.
But, the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach has subsided... and, your Partner is back at your side in one piece.
And even if William Brandt's backstory is unknown, a part of you feels that sooner rather than later, it will be revealed.
Which, might be good, might be bad...
But for the time being, the five of you are the only thing that stands between the world and Nuclear Warfare.
And so far, though rocky, things are still being set in motion.
All you can hope is that you and your Team will be enough to put an end to this.
Against every odd that's stacked against us...
We have to be.
"C'mon," You barely hear your Partner muse from your side, having been so caught up in your thoughts, his tone earns a slight jump of surprise from you.
Ethan is on his feet now, a tired yet resolute glimmer in his gaze as he offers a hand out to you, pulling you to your feet, your bodies meeting in a brief embrace.
His voice lowers as you both step away from one another, determination laced thick in his tone.
"We've got work to do."