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1.
Where was Ethan? Perkins had smelled a rat and run, knocking Brandt out in the process. There was no chance of getting the file they were after, not with their cover blown and one third of their team currently sleeping like a baby. Well, a baby with a concussion.
"Cardinal, this is Bluejay. I repeat, pull out. Retreat to Point Twelve-O."
He tapped his fingers on the side of the monitor he'd been staring at until his eyes hurt for the past three days. No sign of Ethan.
"Cardinal, do you need assistance?"
Ethan would have said something if he'd needed help, wouldn't he? Or maybe he hadn't had the chance. Maybe Benji had missed something. Maybe he was lying somewhere, hurt and bleeding. Or worse. The taste of blood flooded his mouth. He wiped his lips, and winced at the sting. He should stop biting himself.
"Cardinal, please come back."
He didn't know if Ethan could hear the tremor he hadn't been able to keep from his voice. He didn't know if Ethan had heard anything. He didn't know if he was still-
A car zoomed by on the screen, zigzagging in the incoming traffic. A car with a dark shape on its roof.
Benji felt his heart stop.
He desperately looked for the next traffic camera to follow the perilous trajectory of the car, typing with one hand and scrolling through hundreds of security feeds with the other.
He had it. Now he just had to pray it wouldn't turn to an alley with no camera. Not that he could do anything if they did. God, Ethan was on that car, and there was nothing he could do to help. Brandt was still out cold, and he had to-
No, fuck it. He had to look after Ethan.
Grabbing the laptop with one hand, he ran to the car.
He could do this. The laptop was on the passenger seat, so he only had to follow Ethan. Given their speed, he could catch up to them in 20 minutes. If Ethan could hold onto the roof of a speeding car for that long, that was. He started the motor, casting a worried glance at the screen.
The car went over a bridge.
"Eth... Cardinal! Cardinal, are you alright?" he screamed, tires screaming against the concrete as he pulled out of the parking lot.
Benji wasn't sure he breathed at all on the drive. Well, he must have. He wasn't the one who could hold his breath for inordinate amounts of time, after all.
"Bluejay? Cardinal here."
For the first time since he'd watched Ethan take a plunge into a river, Benji felt air flowing through his lungs.
"Cardinal, are you alright?"
"Yes. Can you pick me up? I'm by the pillar, on the west bank. I'm safe. I'm alright."
"On my way."
Benji turned left, along the river.
"Cardinal?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you fucking insane?"
A laugh broke out over the com, making Benji smile. He couldn't be that badly hurt if he was still in shape for laughing.
"Of course not. I duck-taped myself to the roof."
Benji lost it, laughing so hard his ribs hurt.
2.
"So, explain this to me again. There was a guy with a katana, and you..."
Benji raised his eyebrows, and gestured at Ethan.
"I fought him with a letter opener."
"Why? Just... why?"
"Well, I was out of ammo, and it was the only thing on McLevy's desk. I mean, there was also a stapler, but fighting a guy with a sword with a stapler seemed..."
"Insane?" Benji interrupted.
"Yes," Ethan answered, with a sheepish smile.
"You're lucky you didn't get gutted like a fish!"
"About that..."
"Oh, god. How bad is it?" Benji started feeling faint. "You got sliced open by a fucking sword and it's not the first thing you tell me? Do you want to bleed out?"
Before Ethan could defend himself, he ran to the next room and grabbed the first aid kit. He pulled a chair from the kitchen table, and sat next to Ethan. The front of his shirt was black with blood. How had he not noticed? Ethan had seemed fine. Of course he wouldn't want to complain, even when he very much needed to. Benji bit his lip. The fabric was stiff under his fingers, and he tried peeling it off as delicately as possible.
Ethan winced with pain.
"Sorry, sorry!"
He took the scissors out of the bag.
"I'm going to cut your shirt off."
"Oh no, it was my favorite!"
"Oh, shut up," Benji huffed.
For a few minutes, Benji worked in silence, cutting the shirt off and removing it from Ethan's skin, bit by bit. There was a deep gash across his chest, going from his left pectoral to about an inch above his right hip.
"Muscle doesn't seem to have been cut through. Congratulations, all of your internal organs are still internal. I guess all of that time at the gym paid off."
"I do need to keep in shape, at my age," Ethan said gingerly.
"Are you kidding? You're gorgeous, as always."
Benji froze. Had he said that out loud? Oh god, he had said that out loud.
"Thanks, Benji."
"And I mean that in a purely professional way, of course! You're... very, objectively handsome. It's an asset like any other. Only reason I noticed, really."
He was only digging himself deeper, wasn't he?
Benji turned away from Ethan, rummaging in the bag for antiseptic for much longer than he actually needed to. His cheeks were burning with shame. Count on him to make it weird, ruin everything. As usual.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"It's fine. I mean it. I'm flattered you'd think that, if you want to know."
Benji turned back towards Ethan, not quite looking at him.
"This is going to sting."
"I trust you," Ethan said, softly.
Benji could tell that Ethan was trying his best not to squirm at the burn of iodine, probably for his sake. He didn't know what to do of that.
"All good. Now you only need stitches."
"Should we go to the ER?"
"Who do you take me for? I took all of the first aid class the IMF has to offer. I could attach your arm back if I had to," Benji said, in mock indignation.
What he didn't tell Ethan was that he'd taken those classes because he knew that one day, he wouldn't be there to help Ethan. That he'd get hurt. And that the only thing he could do, then, was to help him patch him up. Knowing that he could do that, at the very least, had helped with the constant stress that was working with Ethan. And the terror of losing him.
He held back a wince when he pieced Ethan's skin for the first time.
It was slow work, that needed all of his focus. His lip was firmly between his teeth, his brow frowned with concentration.
Ethan put his hand on his shoulder. Benji nearly jumped, messing up one stitch.
"Ouch! Sorry. Shouldn't have done that," Ethan said, pulling his hand away.
"It's alright. You surprised me, that's all. You can put it back if you want, really."
"Sure?"
"Sure."
Gently, Ethan laid his hand on Benji's shoulder again, resting it halfway between the joint and his neck. He ran his thumb along the fabric of Benji's t-shirt in a rhythmic pattern. Benji wanted to take his hand and kiss it.
He bit his lip even harder, and went back to his stitches.
"All done," Benji said, an eternity later.
"Thank you. I think I'm alright, now."
Ethan's voice was soft, nearly sleepy. Which was fair. He must have been exhausted, and he'd just spent half an hour being butchered by Benji.
And his hand was still on Benji's shoulder. Slowly, it moved to the nape of his neck, turning his head towards Ethan's.
"I'd be lost without you."
Benji laughed nervously.
"Don't say that. You'd be perfectly fine without little old me."
He got up, too fast. He didn't know where this was going. He wasn't sure he could bear it if it wasn't real anymore, once the sun rose and Ethan was fine again.
He stopped at the door, without looking back.
"Ethan?"
"Yes?"
"Please be careful."
"I promise. Good night, Benji."
3.
"Kraken? I can't see Leviathan anymore!" Ward shouted over the comms.
"Calm down, Griffin. What do you mean, you can't see him?"
"He hasn't left the room, but the heat scan says that it's empty! I'm sorry, I couldn't figure how to turn it on faster. I don't..."
"Griffin, everything's fine," Benji interrupted him before he could launch himself into a full blown panic. He pitied the poor guy. A first mission with Ethan was the guarantee to see shit that no textbook could ever prepare you for. And Ward seemed like a textbook kind of guy.
"You keep saying that, but there is no way Leviathan could have left that room, and we have no idea where he is!"
Benji took a deep breath.
"Have you checked the window?"
"We're on the fiftieth floor."
"I know. Check the window."
Benji took off his glasses, and massaged his temples. A few seconds later, the comms hissed again.
"Kraken, Leviathan climbed up to floor 56 by jumping from balcony to balcony. As far as I can tell, he's still there."
All life had left Ward's voice.
"Great. Let's meet him there. And, Griffin?"
"Yes?"
"Remind me to tell you about Dubai one time."
Benji reached the room first. The orderly desk had been overturned, shards of porcelain and trampled flowers littering the floor. Ethan was sitting on the stylish leather sofa, his head resting against the wall and his eyes closed.
"Don't jump. It's me," Benji said. "Where's Schwartz?"
Ethan pointed towards the open window. Benji let himself fall on the sofa next to him.
Ward ran in, gun pointed in front of him, forehead glistening with sweat.
"It's alright, Ward, you can put this down," Benji said.
He turned to Ethan.
"So, are you going to tell us why you decided to take some fresh air and nearly gave young Ward there a heart attack?"
"Closest stairs were blocked."
"And you couldn't have taken the other ones?"
"Figured climbing would be faster."
"Isn't that a breach of protocol?" Ward said. Benji shot daggers at him with his eyes, making him visibly shrink. "I mean... Sorry. Sir."
"One day, you'll have to grow a set of wings, Ethan," Benji sighed, ignoring Ward again.
"Can you build me some?"
"Yeah. Because stories with a guy with wings have never turned out badly. Tell me, how long would it take for you to try reaching the sun?"
"Only if it were for a mission," Ethan smiled. God, he had a beautiful smile.
"That makes me feel so much better," Benji said sarcastically. "But are you ok, Ethan?"
"Just a bit tired. I might have pulled a muscle in my back. And I think some of the stitches popped."
"And that's why you take the stairs."
Ethan pulled a face.
"If I ever have to scrap you off the pavement, Ethan, I swear I will kill you."
"I was careful!"
"That's what being careful means to you? God, I should have included some fine print in that promise."
"I'm fine. I swear," Ethan said, squeezing Benji's hand.
Before Benji could find a pithy retort to distract himself from the feel of Ethan's hand on his own, and what it could mean but probably didn't mean, Ward interrupted.
"Sir? Hostiles incoming. They're ten floor down."
"Great. Let's go before they catch us lazing around."
"Are we taking the stairs? We could..." Ethan started.
"Don't even think about it," Benji said, sending him a deadly gaze.
Five hours later, and they were at the airport, all safely leaving on separate flights. Ethan was already on his way to Tucson, with a firm promise to meet Benji as soon as they were both back in DC.
"Alright, Ward, your flight starts boarding in five. You think that you can manage?"
"Yes, Sir. Thank you for everything."
"Don't thank me. I know it can be rough, at the start. And Ethan doesn't exactly work in the least stressful way," he said, smiling at the thought of Ethan and his definitely against-protocol methods. "I'll never stop worrying, but you can't say that he doesn't make it work, god damn him."
Ward nodded enthusiastically, before hesitating for a moment.
"Agent Dunn, can I ask you something?" he asked shyly.
"Of course."
"Are you and Agent Hunt... You know. Together?"
Benji's jaw dropped.
"Ethan and I? Together? What makes you think that?"
"It's just... You seem to know each other very well. And you worry, as you said. And..."
He blushed.
"Spit it out, Ward."
"Well, you were bickering. A little."
Bickering? They hadn't been bickering.
"We're not together. I don't know what put that idea in your head, but you better get it out from there. Have a safe flight, Ward."
Benji turned and walked away, not bothering to wait for Ward to answer. He had a flight to catch, and no time for stupid speculations.
4.
A dull thud reverberated through the metal door.
"Jones? Do you copy?" Benji asked, trying to keep his voice level. He closed his eyes. He knew it was pointless, he'd heard the shot, the body falling. Jones was dead, and he was going to be next if they could get through that door.
"Support? This is Agent Dunn. I need extraction from current location."
"Copy that. Unit is 60 minutes out."
A metallic clank made him jump. He let out a shaky breath. He was safe, for now. It would take more than a few kicks to open that.
"Ethan? Jones is down."
Static buzzed through the comms. He hadn't really expected an answer. Ethan was fifteen miles away, looking for a stolen hard drive. Who had suggested that they break into Whyte's base to be sure they could proceed with accurate information? Yes. It had been him. He cursed himself. It should have been in and out, and now he was stuck, waiting to be saved. Or killed.
He did a quick calculation. The door was 7 centimeters thick, in reinforced steel. Even with a plasma torch, it would take them at least half an hour to break it down. There was 37 men out there, all heavily armed. His only chance was the extraction team, who was an hour away.
He'd be fine. They probably didn't have a plasma torch anyway, they didn't seem that high tech of an outfit. Although that they shouldn't have been able to see through Jones's mask, so his information may not have been exactly up to date. And even if they did, he could deal. He had a weapon, he was trained. And the mission came first.
"Benji? Benji, do you copy?"
"Yes! Yes. Ethan, Jones is dead."
"Where are you?" Ethan replied, within the second.
"Still on location. In the bunker on the third floor."
"You need to evacuate!"
"No, really? Because there's a few angry men out there with machine guns, and I don't think opening that door is the best of ideas."
"I'm coming back."
"What? You can't do that. What about the mission?"
"I don't care about the mission. If they have a plasma torch..." There was an edge into Ethan's voice, one he wasn't used to. Panic?
"I'm dead, I know. But they don't. Just complete the mission, let the extraction team do their job, and I'll even let you buy me lunch when we're back home."
There was a long silence.
"I can't do that," Ethan said. His voice was strangely flat, as if all the feeling had carefully been scrubbed away from it.
"What do you mean, you can't do that? Ethan, there's nothing you can do here! There's three dozen men out there!"
"See you soon, Benji."
The comm died.
Benji was left in the silence of the bunker, his chest heaving harder and harder with every second. Ethan was abandoning the mission, to come here. Where he was surrounded by enemies. What weapons did Ethan have? He couldn't remember. It wouldn't be enough in any case.
His mind was whirring. What could he do? He could run out there, get out before Ethan even arrived. No. He only had one handgun, and a spare magazine. He'd get slaughtered before he made it to the stairs. But would that keep Ethan away? He let out a desperate breath. No, it wouldn't. He'd still rush in, trying to save him like a princess from a children's tale. And he'd get devoured by the dragon. Ethan was off the comm, so he couldn't even plead with him to stay away, not that he thought he had the least of chance trying to convince him. God, that man was a stubborn bastard. Alright. What did he have? A laptop, one gun, his remarkably still-functioning brain and much too many things he wanted to scream at Ethan. Or tell Ethan. No, those were thoughts for another time. A time where no one was at imminent risk of a brutal death. He pushed the thought away.
He couldn't get out, but he could still mess with them. He disabled their safety feed in a few clicks, making sure that they wouldn't notice. Giving Ethan the advantage of surprise was not much, but it was all he could do. He prayed it would be enough.
He checked the cameras, one after the other, barely breathing. What if Ethan got hurt? Or worse, killed? This was insane. He had no chance. Why would he ever do something like that? Benji hadn't been in the game as long as he had, but even Ward could have seen that this was borderline suicidal.
Fifteen minutes of barely contained panic later, a loud, metallic clang made him jump. He chided himself. Of course they wouldn't forget about him. He checked his ammo. He was going to be fine. They didn't have a plasma torch.
From the corner of the eye, he caught one guard dropping to the ground, like a doll with its string cut, then another. Ethan. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for as long as he could allow himself to look away for, praying to whoever was or wasn't there.
Please.
Let Ethan make it.
Ethan couldn't die, not like that, not for something so stupid. Not for him.
He turned back to his computer. He watched as Ethan took one man down after the other. He watched as he got trapped between two teams in a tight stairway, four men coming from behind and two blocking his path. He watched him jump down over the banister, dropping two floors before he could catch himself. He watched him scream in pain as his right shoulder dislocated, pull himself up by one arm and roll onto the floor, barely managing to reach for his gun before the men caught up to him. He was watched as Ethan shot them dead. He watched as he reached the third floor, then the room that lay just on the other side of the thick steel door that had been keeping him alive. He watched as Ethan threw away his empty gun before jumping at the throat of one of the men screaming at him words he couldn't hear.
Benji ran to the door, and unlocked it as fast as he could. Hoping that it would be fast enough.
When he stepped into the other room, it was already over. Four men were lying on the floor, dead or unconscious, he couldn't tell. Ethan turned toward him at the sound of the door opening, one arm raised to face another attacker, the other hanging limply by his side. Blood was dripping into his eyes from a deep gash just below his hairline, and he was resting his weight only one of of his legs.
He took a limping step forward, with a hopeful smile. Fear receded from Benji's heart. Anger replaced it, burning like fire.
"Benji, I..."
"What the hell, Ethan?" Benji interrupted him.
Ethan's face fell.
"I just wanted to make sure you were safe."
"I was safe!"
"If they had a plasma torch..."
"And they hadn't! I told you they hadn't!" Benji shouted. "You dropped the mission! And for what?"
Ethan didn't reply.
"You blew the goddam mission, you killed I don't know how many men, and you nearly died!"
He couldn't prevent his voice from breaking on the last one, not really. Had Ethan heard it? He covered that weakness with a vicious anger he hated.
"Who do you think I am? Tell me, who do you think I am?"
"You're my friend," Ethan said. His voice was wavering.
Benji fought hard to ignore it.
"Wrong. I'm an agent. If they had a plasma torch, if they could have broken through that door? You should have left me die."
His voice was cold and merciless. It had the desired effect. Ethan's eyes opened wide, as if he couldn't believe what he'd just said. He probably didn't, at that moment. Then, it started to register. There was an instant of pure pain on his face, just like Benji had stuck a knife in his chest. And finally, training took over. Ethan's face became blank, emotionless.
"I'm sorry. I'll take the responsibility with the Secretary." His voice was flat.
"Good. Support will be there in a few, let's wrap up."
Benji turned away, going back to take his computer from the bunker, leaving Ethan alone.
Bitter tears burned his eyes. He wiped them away.
5.
Benji was lying on the roof of an old cement factory, looking through his night vision binoculars, waiting for something to happen, as he had for the past six hours. So far, he'd seen three drug deals, a dispute about a badly parked motorcycle that had lead to a few unconvinced blows, and he'd been visited by the same fat tabby cat four times. He'd named it Harvey.
The high voltage line far above him crackled in the damp night air. Drop by drop, it started to rain. He reached out, catching the first few drops in his palm, waiting for the rain to get heavier. The neon lights of the gas station across the street shone through the darkness, reflected in the growing puddles on the concrete, fifty feet below. Each raindrop crashed loudly on the metal roof, surrounding Benji like an abstract rhythmical symphony. He liked that sound. It was calming.
Somewhere out there, in the middle of that derelict industrial zone, was Ethan. They hadn't talked since that failed mission, a month ago.
Or more precisely, neither of them had brought it up again, even though it hung heavily between them in every conversation, no matter how mundane. Mission planning? Ethan had made a point of ensuring there was a rescue protocol for about every conceivable scenario, carefully looking at everyone but him. Return home, late at night? Benji would usually have invited Ethan for a meal, before parting ways. But he hadn't, and Ethan hadn't suggested it either.
He wasn't sure if he was still angry. He was still scared.
"Mime, do you read me?" Ethan asked.
"I read you, Siegfried."
"They're leaving in a chopper. I'll try to get on it."
"What about the buyers?"
"Brünhilde and Fafner are on them."
"Good."
There was an instant of silence.
"Please be careful," he whispered.
He didn't know if Ethan had heard. He didn't answer.
Water dripped from the edge of the his hood onto his face, through his beard and down his chin. He was already drenched to the bone, and the cold would only get worse as the night became deeper. Nothing to see, not even Harvey the cat. Nothing to hear but the rain. Understandable. Who would want to be out, by a rain like that?
He wanted to be home. He wanted to be anywhere else. He wanted to be a month ago, when Ethan's arm wasn't in a sling for the third time this year, when they laughed and chatted and still could forget the inevitability that one of them would die. Ethan, most likely. He was the risk taker, the best agent. The one who'd put his life on the line, as if it was worth nothing. And Benji was the one who would have to keep living.
The sound of the chopper broke through the noise of the rain, closer every passing second. He couldn't see it without the binoculars, and couldn't find it with them. He waited.
The darkness became alive with the glow of flames. The thunder of the motor became unbearable as the chopper flew above his head, burning. It hit the high voltage line, staying suspended for an unending second. The sound of metal against metal, tearing and breaking was like a wail. Until the line broke, and the helicopter crashed on the ground, fifty meters below.
Benji could only watch.
Ethan had been in that chopper.
Everything stopped.
Tears rolled down his cheeks.
He wasn't breathing, he wasn't thinking. He stared at the debris, engulfed in flames that the rain was beating down.
"Mime, what happened? I lost Siegfried!" Ilsa screamed into his earpiece.
Benji didn't answer.
"Mime, do you read me? Mime!"
He couldn't speak. There was nothing to say.
"Don't move, alright? I'll be there as soon as I can."
The binoculars slowly slipped out of his hands. He didn't catch them. The lenses broke.
"Where is Siegfried?" Luther's voice. Benji could recognize it. He couldn't make sense of what he was saying.
"There was an explosion. Was he still in that chopper?" Fear. Luther was afraid.
There was no reason to be afraid. It was already too late.
Benji started sobbing.
Ilsa found him, after a while. She kneeled next to him and laid a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently.
"Benji. Come on, let's get out of there."
He wasn't sure how he got up, or walked down the stairs and into the street, bathed in neon light. The scraps of the chopper had all gone off. He raised his face towards the sky, letting the rain hit his face. He closed his eyes.
He was at the safehouse. There was a blanket across his shoulder, the wool itchy on his wet skin. He was cold, but wasn't shivering.
Ethan was dead.
He clasped the blanket, his knuckles turning white. It hurt. He bit his lip. It hurt more. He bit harder.
Ethan was dead.
"How are you feeling, Benji?" Ilsa asked softly.
He shut his eyes. Why was she talking to him? Ethan was dead.
"You need to stop doing that. You're bleeding," she said, touching his face. He did as he was told. It was easier.
"Luther's not back yet. It's still possible that..."
"Ethan's dead."
His voice sounded alien in his mouth, as if it wasn't really his own. As if he wasn't really there.
She sat down next to him and took his hand into her own. They stayed like that for the remaining of the night, neither moving nor saying anything. There was nothing to say.
It was dawn. At one point, they would have to do something. Call HQ, ask for support. Tell them they had lost an agent. Prepare for the inquiry, the paperwork. Go home.
The emptiness of that prospect nearly crushed him.
The door rattled, then swung open.
Luther.
And, behind him, was Ethan.
Ilsa jumped to her feet.
"How..."
"I jumped onto the pillar. I'm okay."
Benji looked at him. He couldn't believe that he'd survived, that he was there, with him. That he still had a chance. He started crying.
Ethan crossed the room, kneeled in front of Benji. Gently, he put a hand on the back of his neck.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Ethan said.
Benji wrapped his arms around him. He closed his eyes, so tight he could see stars, and pressed his face into the crook of Ethan's neck.
+1
It was a nice day. Not exceptional, not one of those day you feel you won't ever forget. There was nothing special in the air. Just a sunny Saturday. The last Saturday before the start of school. Families everywhere, holding new backpacks and new pencils and new books, happily milling around the packed mall. Or unhappily. It was hard to tell, though a monitor.
Benji pressed a few keys on his computer, and the fire alarm rang. Not much panic. He could see them, thinking it was just a drill, just an error. A few keys more, and the sprinklers went off. Not much hanging back anymore, now.
Evacuations took time. More time than people wanted to admit it. For a mall this size, it could be twenty minutes. And who knew what could happen during twenty long minutes?
People could die, or get married. Someone could meet the love of their life.
Or a bomb could go off.
Benji looked at his hands. Wires, red and green and yellow. No ticking. Why bother with ticking? The bomb was going to explode, whether it was ticking or not. And there was nothing Benji could do to stop it.
But he could delay it.
For twenty minutes, at least.
Then, the system would become unstable, and that would be it.
A strange calmness flooded him. He knew what he had to do.
"Ethan? I've defused it, I'm on my way out. The evacuation is underway. Meet you at the safehouse in an hour," he said, his voice level and cheery. He'd become very good at faking it.
"Copy that, Benji! See you soon."
Ethan would leave the doomed mall, drive back to the safe house with Ilsa. He'd be safe. Would he hear the blast?
He looked back at the screen, typing line after line of code. He could hold it off, for a bit more.
He watched the families trickle out of shops and restaurants, wet through their bones. One small girl was screaming in her mother's arms, holding a rabbit plushie with all the strength of a child in fear. The mother whispered in her ear, hurrying along the corridor before disappearing behind a corner. Benji wished he could hear what she'd said.
One by one, the stores emptied, until he was the last living thing in that entire marble temple. The silence was deafening.
He couldn't stop it.
He stopped trying.
Five minutes, thirty-three seconds. The bomb would blow up. The building wouldn't hold. Being in the basement wouldn't save him. Malls were rarely built with explosions in mind. Not that he'd be alive to see it come down.
Benji wasn't scared, he realized. Maybe it was one of those strange effects that being near death had, like a dying man seeing a long-dead relative telling them that all was forgiven, that they could go in peace. And it was his turn, after all. Ethan had risked his life enough.
It was just a pity they hadn't had more time. They hadn't been truly comfortable around each other, not after coming back from the last mission. As if they were suddenly made of glass, and every careless move could break one of them. Him, probably. Ethan had asked him to accompany him to his doctor's appointment to remove the sling, check that his arm would still let him hang off buildings. All he could do was stare at the scar across Ethan's chest, the nearly faded bruises, the few burns from the burning helicopter. It wasn't fair, that he'd been hurt so much. It should have been him.
And it was, this time. Pity he didn't have Ethan's luck.
Four minutes, precisely.
What should he do with four minutes?
Only one thing. He'd wanted it so much. No time to wait, not anymore.
"Ethan, where are you?"
"At the safehouse. Why?"
"Is Ilsa with you?"
"Yes, she's making coffee. Benji, is everything alright? You sound... off."
Benji smiled wryly. Ethan had always been too clever for him. And too kind.
No matter.
Only three minutes, forty eight seconds to go.
"I need to tell you something."
"Benji, what's going on?"
"I love you."
Silence over the line. Benji clenched his eyes shut. He didn't know what to hope for. Did he feel lighter, free to go? Tears burned at the corner of his eyes.
"Why are you telling me that?"
Ethan sounded scared.
Maybe he shouldn't have said anything.
"Benji, why are you telling me that?"
Not scared. Panicked.
"I lied. I didn't defuse the bomb," Benji said. Tears fell down his cheek, marring his voice. He didn't want to sound that afraid. He was afraid.
"You have to get out! Now!"
"I... I can't. I had to stay to delay it. Now it's too late."
Two minutes, ten seconds.
"Benji," Ethan screamed. "Please, please!"
Two minutes, eight seconds.
"I love you," he said, "I love you." His voice broke.
"I'm sorry," Benji answered.
"It's not fair. It shouldn't be you. It shouldn't be you!"
Why was Ethan so angry? Of course it should be him.
"It's not your fault, Ethan."
Ilsa was there. She wouldn't leave Ethan alone, with guilt he didn't deserve.
One minute, thirty seconds.
The silence was unbearable.
"Would you talk to me?"
"Yes! Yes."
For all of the 120 seconds he had left to live.
"Benji... Please. Please don't give up. You're the cleverest person I know. If anyone can figure out how to get out of there, it's you."
"I can't stop the bomb, Ethan. There's just no way..."
He couldn't stop the bombs.
But maybe he didn't have to.
This was insane. There was no chance that it would work. He wasn't fast enough. His hands were shaking. He ripped the copper wires apart, twisting them together, barely taking the time to breathe.
"I promised I'd keep you safe! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
No time to think, no time to take notice that Ethan was crying.
"Please come back to me," he begged.
Benji couldn't promise it. But he has to try.
"Thank you, Ethan. For everything," he said, trying to convey all his love, all the purpose that he'd found after meeting Ethan, the joy of all the small moments they'd had. Failing. He'd have to do it in person, then.
He detonated the first bomb with a firm press of the thumb.
Thirty seconds.
He ran as fast as he could.
***
He waded through the foul sewers, covered in dust and debris whose nature he'd rather not contemplate. The blast had thrown him into the vile liquid, and he'd been dreaming obsessively about a shower since. A shower, plus several vaccines.
But he was alive.
It had been easy. How had he not seen it faster? The basement was built right above the sewers. The charges were perfectly positioned to blast a hole into the floor, straight into it. And then it was only a matter of running fast enough.
He was alive.
He laughed, out loud.
Is that how Ethan felt? His heart was beating double his usual rate, blood pumping pure energy through his veins. He was alive.
He'd see Ethan again. He'd be able to look into his eyes as he told him that he loved him. He'd hold his hand, this time. Kiss him. Hard.
He waded faster.
***
The adrenaline had worn off. He was cold, and wet, and the stink from his trousers was garnering him more than a few disgusted looks in the bus. His phone was dead, and he'd lost his earpiece. He regretted not stealing a car.
A vague of panic came over him. He'd been fast enough. What if he hadn't?
He had been. It was ok. Only another nightmare to add to the list. Soon, he'd have enough for a full book, but that wasn't something he wanted to think about now. Not when he was finally going to see Ethan.
He shouldn't have told him. Not like that. Ethan had deserved better, and so did he. Why did he even give up so quickly? He should have seen the way out in a second. He must be slipping. Or was it just age? He nearly died. God, he'd been so sure he was going to die. He couldn't really believe he was alive anymore.
He jumped off the bus, the old matron next to him taking a big gulp of air.
Ethan.
He'd said he loved him too. But he'd thought that Benji had been dying. Hell, Benji had thought that he was dying. Would he have lied? Rejecting someone who has less than 5 minutes to live seemed cruel, and Ethan wasn't cruel.
He walked faster.
Had Ethan heard the blast? Did he think he was dead? He'd sounded distraught over the comm.
He jumped up the steps leading into the safehouse, not bothering to knock.
"Ethan? It's me. I made it," he called down the empty hallway, feeling idiotic. What was he supposed to say?
"Benji?" Ilsa asked, emerging from one of the bedrooms. "God, you're alive."
She threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly.
"I'm okay. Is everyone safe?"
"Yes, thanks to you."
She took a step back, pointing a finger at him.
"Never lie to us again."
"I won't. I promise. I'm sorry."
"I don't believe you. But be assured that I will kill you myself if you do that again."
He smiled at her, sadly. He knew she'd have done the same. She knew he'd do it again if he had to. But they could pretend, for now.
"Where's Ethan?"
She sighed.
"He tried running back to the mall. I had to sedate him. He's asleep at the back," she said, gesturing towards the room she'd just left.
Without a word, Benji went in.
Ethan was lying above the cover, the bed still made. Someone had taken his shoes off. His hair fell messily of his forehead. Benji brushed it away from his eyes, and sat down on the chair Ilsa had just left. He waited for Ethan to wake up.
The sun set. Ilsa came and went, bringing him new clothes and food he couldn't bring himself to eat. He hadn't slept, because every time he closed his eyes, he could see the countdown flashing down, ticking second after second away, closer, and closer-
He shook himself.
He was alive. So was Ethan. That was all he could ask for, really. A small, skewed smile stretched one corner of his mouth. The IMF truly had lowered his ambitions.
"Benji?" Ethan muttered, snapping him out of his sarcastic spiral.
"How are you feeling?"
Ethan started crying.
"I'm sorry. I escaped, you were right. I figured it out," Benji said, slowly reaching out. Ethan fell into his arms, wrapping his arms. He squeezed him against his chest, so tight he could feel his heart through his shirt. Ethan pulled away, taking Benji's head between his hands, quickly wiping his tears away.
"God, Benji, are you ok?"
"I'm fine. I'm fine, really."
So why did he feel like he could finally cry?
"It's alright," Ethan said, bringing him close again.
A sob escaped Benji, then another. Ethan never let him go, stroking his back and whispering words he couldn't understand in his ear until he was able to breathe again.
"Do you ever get used to this?"
"No. But you learn to cope. Or you don't. Some never do."
"What are we going to do, Ethan? Can we live like that? It's hard enough neatly dying. I can't take thinking that you're going to die, waiting for the day something goes wrong. I can't lose you." The confession was barely above a whisper. It felt strange, admitting it out loud.
"I can't lose you, either. Today was... I thought you died. I promised I'd keep you safe, and I keep failing. And I don't know how to go on, if you're gone. I don't know what I'd do without you. I don't want to be the one who's left alone." Ethan looked so ashamed. Benji kissed the side of his head.
"Neither do I," he admitted. "But it's going to happen, isn't it? I was so happy, today. Because I thought it would be me. All this time... I've been so scared. And it's getting worse."
"Not your fault. It's the job."
Ethan gently stroked his hair. Benji closed his eyes. Welcome to the IMF.
"Could we maybe lie down?" Benji asked. He was exhausted. He felt like he'd been exhausted for a lifetime already.
"Of course."
They arranged themselves on the small beds, Benji resting his head on Ethan's shoulder, one hand around his waist. His breath was steady, his skin was warm. His heart was beating. He prayed he'd never forget this moment.
"What if we never learn to cope? With losing each other, I mean," he asked.
"I don't know. I wish I did." All the sadness in the world was written in Ethan's eyes. Benji wished he could take it away.
"Maybe it's a terrible idea. Maybe it'll just hurt more when it ends." But I think... The only thing that makes it bearable is being with you. Hoping to see you again."
His choice. The only choice he wanted to make, the only thing he could control.
He took a deep breath, and looked up to Ethan.
"I love you," he said. His eyes were as beautiful as ever.
Ethan kissed him, lips closed, and pulled back much too fast for his taste.
"I love you too."
He could see the mirror of his emotions, written all over Ethan's face. Fear. Despair. The certitude that this was going to end in pain, whatever it was. And the burning need to do it anyway.
Benji pressed their faces together again, too hard, teeth brushing against soft flesh, before they slotted together. He opened his mouth, desperate to deepen the kiss, to be as close to Ethan as humanely possible.
Later, that night, when he was lying with his head on Ethan's chest, eyes open in the dark, he could nearly believe it was fine. He was alive. So was Ethan. They were safe, for one day more. Benji started biting his lip.
Until next time.