Prompt Post One
The Mission Impossible 4: Ghost Protocol Prompt Post One is now open!
Go forth and kink!
Ask a Mod // Rules and Warnings // Fills Post // Friending Meme
Go forth and kink!
Ask a Mod // Rules and Warnings // Fills Post // Friending Meme
Ethan notices the small things about his team, like how Jane occasionally gets lost in her own mind and plays with the locket around her neck, which Ethan knows contains a picture of Hanaway. It is against all protocols, each agent who was lost in the line of duty has to erased from all records in a matter of days. Ethan doesn’t mention it, but he knows all the same just like he knows that Benji carries around a rabbit’s foot in his backpack. Ethan hopes it’s just Benji’s idea of a joke, but then again he isn’t the first superstitious agent Ethan has seen over the years. So, it surprises Ethan that it takes him so long to realize that he has never seen Brandt sleep, not even once in all the months the team had worked together.
They share rooms quite frequently, not just for safety but also to provide each other with emotional support after a harrowing mission. Benji usually falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, and Ethan is still awake more often than not when Jane doses off as well. But not Brandt, every time Ethan glances at him his eyes are closed and his breathing is carefully regulated, and he hardly moves but Ethan can easily tell he was still wide awake each time, he just hasn’t registered it earlier. It isn’t exactly unusual for agents to be light sleepers, but Brandt doesn’t even fall asleep after the most exhausting missions, the days when Ethan can feel his own eyelids fall shut in a matter of seconds.
“Why isn’t the fact that you are an insomniac in your file?” He asks Brandt one day, deciding to take the direct approach. Brandt is one of the few people Ethan can’t read easily, but he has found that when asked a direct question, the analyst rarely lies.
“Huh?” The expression of confusion on Brandt’s face was genuine, as far as Ethan can tell.
“You barely sleep, it’s the kind of thing that should be on your personal file.”
“I am not an insomniac, I just…I have trouble falling asleep at times that’s all.” Brandt shrugs, turning back to his laptop.
“Why?” Ethan finds himself morbidly curious, and ignores the clear ‘back off’ signals the other man is sending.
“I just need a little time to clear my mind of certain things, I have a lot of thoughts bouncing around.” Brandt’s tone is light but his eyes are haunted, the expression one that Ethan has only seen twice before, the first time in Dubai as the other agent had been confronted by Ethan about his true identity, and the other time in Seattle, when Brandt had confessed his involvement in Croatia.
“Dis you have those many thoughts before Croatia?” Ethan blurts out as his mind makes the connection before he can even fully process the idea, but Brandt ignores him and focuses on the laptop again.
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So glad somebody is filling this because I have no idea when I'll finish mine.
I love the details about Jane and Benji here. T________T at Jane keeping a locket with Hanaway's picture. Gah, they're so beautiful and tragic. Of course Benji has a rabbit's foot.
Poor Brandt. Yeah, I don't see him as somebody who sleeps very well. :(
I hope you continue!
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Ethan relaxes back onto the couch, smirking to himself at the antics of his drunken teammates. He hasn’t had a drink in years himself, too wary of all the dangers lurking in the shadows to really relinquish his sense of control. He thinks of the parties he used to attend religiously when he was a freshman in college, waking up the next day with only a vague idea of what he had been up to. There are times he wishes he could go back to a time when he was that carefree, a time before the IMF.
But he has to admit, one of the perks of being sober is that you get to amuse yourself as other grown adults make complete fools of themselves. His three team mates are providing him with some quality entertainment, sprawling on the floor of the motel room, playing a game of truth or dare. Benji’s usual exuberance is dialed up to an eleven, and even Brandt’s face is flushed red. Ethan suspects at least some of Jane’s apparent drunkenness is fake, because he knows just how well she can hold her liquor.
The first hour of the game had been filled with musical performances, dances and various other acrobatics which made up for a lack of quality with an overabundance of enthusiasm from all the participants, although Ethan did have to step in earlier and veto the idea of Jane shooting an apple off Brandt’s head. He’s glad that they are able to let go of their worries for a little while though, even if he can’t.
Now, all three were winding down, almost passed out on the floor, when Jane suddenly sits up and exclaims, “I want some apple pie.”
Benji makes a noise like a purr that Ethan assumes is approval.
“It’s two in the morning, Jane, and we aren’t exactly at the Hilton. I doubt they have room service at this hour.” Ethan explains mildly.
“Good,” Brandt mutters, “I am not supposed to eat apple pie anyway.”
Ethan glances at Brandt, vaguely unsettled by the sudden change in mood of the other man. A second ago he had been relaxed and loose, now he just looked like a sad drunk.
“Are you diabetic or something?” Benji asks, “Cause I read about this miracle plant that cures diabetes on the internet, I can find it for you.“ He adds helpfully, reaching for his laptop.
“No, but apple pie is a treat, it’s for good boys only,” Brant says with conviction, ”My mamma told me so.”
Ethan feels a chill moving down his spine,somehow knowing where this was going and wishing Brandt would stop talking.
“Good people suffered because I didn’t do my job, so I don’t get any pie.” Brandt mumbles.
Suddenly the whole night seemed a lot less amusing to Ethan.
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T_____________T Brandt. Yeah, I've been there, going from lol drunk to sad in a heartbeat. Nice choice of apple pie. It symbolizes wholesomeness and family, and that's exactly what Brandt feels like he robbed from Ethan. :(
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The only advice I really have is the cliched "keep writing," though beyond the whole "practice makes perfect" aspect, but about going with your gut. Like the apple pie thing. If it feels right, go for it. If the story inside you wants to be told, needs to be told, tell it. And don't let fear stop you, be it fear of not good enough, not being read, etc, etc. Write first, ask questions later. :)
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Their mission wasn’t exactly a bust, but it certainly hadn’t been ideal either. It had seemed easy on the outset, a simple rescue mission. The young son of an asset had been kidnapped, and his recovery was considered important enough that Ethan’s team had been called in.
The first part of the mission had gone so perfectly it had almost seemed scripted, a silent entry, the two guards taken down by Ethan and Brandt in a matter of seconds. Looking back, Ethan realized that alone should have made him a little suspicious.
Their biggest mistake had been allowing themselves to get separated, if there was anything Ethan should have learnt over the last few months, it was that they were stronger together.
At the time it had seemed the right choice, himself providing a distraction and drawing fire while Brandt got the boy out. But it seemed there had been even more guards than they had realized, and despite his team member’s best efforts, the boy had been shot on the way out. A quick extraction had ensured that the boy had not died, but it had been a much closer call than Ethan liked to admit to himself.
Ethan doesn’t like to get involved with how his team members handle the aftermath unless absolutely necessary, so he stands just outside the room, watching but not interfering as he watched Brandt go at a heavy bag. At the beginning the other agent’s movements had been smooth, his body relaxed and hitting the bag fast and with perfect biomechanics, building up power with speed and technique. Ethan had always been aware in a vague, unacknowledged way that the other agent could probably take him down in a fight but to see such a demonstration was like a bucket of cold water being splashed on his face. The younger agent was just as fast, as trained as himself, and he had the additional advantage of age being on his side.
But after a couple of hours, Brandt’s technique began to go south and he started to hit a little too hard, a little too fast. Ethan winced, knowing very well that Bradnt was going to feel very sore tomorrow, at the very least. He’s tired and sore himself, but he can’t leave yet. Not when he knows that William Brant only got treated for one injury after Croatia, a transverse fracture of the second metacarpal , commonly known as boxer’s fracture and most commonly caused by hitting a hard object with a closed fist.
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"Those individuals who calmly sit down with a therapist and regularly deal with their feelings in a balanced and healthy manner probably wouldn’t have ended up in this particular profession anyway."
Ouch, but very very true.
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