Chapter Text
It was a simple job.
Drop in, grab the briefcase, disappear. Ethan was sure his teammates would beg to differ. How could a job with Ethan Hunt ever be simple? By his standards, at least, it wasn’t nearly as complicated as breaking into the vault at CIA headquarters.
The only complication, going in, was an injury he’d received not twenty four hours before the start of their mission. Luther had expressed his concern.
“You can’t even walk without limping.”
Ethan waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll sleep on it. Unless you think we can convince the IMF to reschedule our mission till next week?”
Luther raised his eyebrows, already done with the argument. “Lord knows I’ve seen you do worse.”
So, dressed as a janitor, Ethan entered the large office building. Shining, tiled floors, high ceiling. The din of conversation echoed through the room. Lots of people standing about, wearing business formal, hair slicked back in ponytails or gelled up. Ethan couldn’t help feeling relieved at yet another job where being undercover didn’t involve wearing a tight suit. Disguising himself as a janitor meant he barely had to change out of his usual cargo pants and black t-shirt.
Ethan forced himself not to favor one leg over the other. Adrenaline bubbled up inside him as he scanned his ID card at the security gate and was let through with a cheerful little beep.
Down a hallway, past suits who barely spared him a glance, to a door. He unlocked it and swung his keys around his finger as he stepped inside. He grabbed the first thing he saw--a cart with cleaning supplies and a large garbage bag--and wheeled it out of the small room. Now, people didn’t look at him, just tried to stay out of the way.
There were a handful of people waiting for the elevators. Ethan leaned against the cart and swept his gaze across those waiting. When the first elevator arrived, he wheeled the cart into the elevator. There seemed to be a silent agreement that no one else would get on the elevator, whether from lack of space or lack of cleanliness, Ethan didn’t know. He pressed his key fob to the pad and hit a floor that would’ve been restricted to anyone else.
He was vaguely aware of a suit rushing down the hall as the doors began to close. Then a hand stuck in between them and they opened. Ethan snapped his gaze up to the man now entering the elevator. The man turned to the buttons quickly, pressed one, and leaned back. But he didn’t turn quick enough for Ethan to miss his face. Piercing blue eyes and white-blond hair.
'James Bond,' Ethan thought. His heart pounded out an irregular beat.
The doors closed and the man stepped back. The two were engulfed in silence and Ethan’s weight pressed into the floor as the elevator ascended.
'There’s a chance,' Ethan thought, 'that he didn’t recognize me.'
“You do an awful lot of playing dressup for a job that doesn’t need it,” James Bond said in his cool, low voice.
Anxiety flashed through Ethan’s neck and down his arms.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Luther asked through the earpiece.
“How’d you get in?” Ethan asked without turning to look at the man. “How many dead bodies did you have to hide?”
“You would love MI6,” Bond quipped.
Ethan drummed his fingers on the handle of the cart, impatient. “Why are you here?”
“Same reason as you, I imagine.”
Ethan finally turned to Bond. “This is my mission.”
“Really? Well, that’s a shame.” The elevator came to a stop. Bond smiled at Ethan--actually smiled. “One of us is going home empty-handed.”
Just as the doors opened, Bond whirled around and swung at Ethan. He ducked, having expected just that. Ethan kicked the man in the torso, and only succeeded in having him step back. Ethan aimed another kick but Bond grabbed his leg and wrenched his body hard, sending him rolling out of the elevator doors. He was back on his feet in a blink.
This was the penthouse. The room was massive, with glass decor placed here and there.
'Don’t touch anything,' Luther hissed.
'I’ll try,' Ethan wanted to hiss back.
Bond came at him full force. Ethan put his hands up and then they were locked in, throwing punches and blocking. Ethan couldn’t help backing up, the force of Bond’s onslaught forcing him backwards. Fearful that he’d knock something over, Ethan aimed a hard kick to Bond’s gut and sent him stumbling.
“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Ethan warned in between breaths.
Bond straightened up, fists raised. “Then get out of the way.”
Bond lunged at him, kneeing him in the chest. Ethan kicked, Bond grappled, and with a twist Ethan was on Bond’s shoulders, the taller man’s head between his thighs. The force of the swing brought Bond down, Ethan landing in a crouch.
There was a pause as they both got to their feet. Any trace of friendliness was gone from Bond’s face.
“I didn’t want to hurt you either.”
He darted forward, turned one way so that Ethan predicted a left hook, only for a sharp pain to crack the other side of his skull. He stumbled back, mostly in shock. And Ethan had just started to feel like he’d gotten the upper hand.
Bond rammed into Ethan, the force of his attack slamming him into a solid surface. Ethan found himself trapped between Bond and one of the large marble pillars in the room, Bond’s fingers around his throat. Panic bolted through Ethan’s chest. He swung out and punched Bond in the face, and had planned another when the man slammed a knee into his gut. He cried out as the wind left his body.
Bond’s face shone with sweat. He panted heavily, glaring at Ethan with those ruthless, icy eyes.
“What would you take in exchange for the briefcase?” Bond asked. He loosened his grip on Ethan’s throat, just enough for him to draw breath and answer.
“Fuck you,” Ethan hissed.
Bond cocked his head. “You’re not in a position to be saying that.”
“Ethan, you’re running low on time,” Luther hissed. “One minute and Hayes is back in the penthouse.”
A plan formed in Ethan’s head. He attempted to wrench free, only for Bond to grab his wrists and pin them to Ethan’s chest.
Bond leaned in close. “What can I give you for the briefcase?”
He stopped squirming under Bond’s grip, pretended to give great consideration to his actions. Finally, he sighed and let his head drop against the pillar.
“Brouwer,” he said. “You can have the briefcase if you let us have Brouwer.”
Bond was silent, his gaze flitting between Ethan’s eyes.
“I’m sure MI6 won’t mind,” he mused.
Then he stepped back, gently releasing Ethan from his grip.
“Lead the way,” Bond commanded.
Ethan rubbed at his neck as he turned from Bond. Before he could venture far, Bond grabbed him by the arm and turned him.
“You know, I just don’t think you’d give it up that easily,” he mused.
Frustration made Ethan’s face hot.
'Hayes is in the building,' Luther said.
“We don’t have time for this,” Ethan retorted.
“Left pocket,” Bond said, glancing at Ethan’s cargo pants. “Put them on.”
Ethan stiffened. In his left pocket was a pair of handcuffs. He glared at Bond.
“You’re not going anywhere unless you put them on,” Bond warned.
'Elevator. I’m giving you sixty seconds.'
Ethan stifled a disgusted noise as he brought the pair of handcuffs out of his pocket. He put them on himself and held up his wrists to show Bond.
Bond tightened them a few clicks. Despite everything that had happened between them, the feeling sent a slight thrill through Ethan’s body. “Perfect.” There was a horrible, amused uptick to his mouth.
'Fifty seconds,' Luther said. 'Stop fucking around.'
Ethan clenched his jaw as he brought the key fob out from under his shirt, dangling on the lanyard around his neck. He approached the closet and held the fob up to the pad. With a beep, the doors opened. Bond followed him into the walk-in closet. It was lined with clothes on hangers, and at the back was a cabinet with a keypad.
'Thirty seconds.'
Ethan hurried to the back of the closet and typed in the passcode. Then, for the voice ID, he brought out a small device and hit “play.” Hayes’ voice came forward, a little snippet of a recording from when one of Ethan’s teammates had met the man earlier.
The cabinet door popped open and Ethan grabbed the briefcase. He shut the door and, sensing his urgency, Bond rushed out of the closet before him. Just as they exited the closet the elevator dinged. Ethan’s heart rate spiked as he ducked behind one of the large pillars in the room. Bond sidled up next to him. Ethan listened to the elevator doors open and the sound of Hayes’ voice drift in as he and another person entered the room. Ethan could just imagine Luther sitting at the computer, fingers clawing at his scalp.
The two agents hid behind a pillar to the left of the elevator, hidden from view as Hayes and another man walked down the center of the room. The elevator was about thirty paces away, with another pillar only ten paces away. Just a few paces along the wall from the elevator was a fire escape. This, of course, had a heavy door that Ethan didn’t doubt would shatter the relative silence of the room.
“Wonderful,” James Bond whispered, so quietly Ethan wondered for a second if he’d really spoken. “What do we do now?”
Ethan turned his head and glared at the MI6 agent. He tried to imagine what Bond was thinking, and it involved knocking out both people in the room and bolting down the fire escape.
Ethan peeked around the corner of the pillar, catching sight of both men settling down at a table on the far side of the room. They were far enough away that they perhaps wouldn’t see the two agents slipping from one pillar to another, but every sound echoed, and the two would never be able to use the fire escape door without bringing attention to themselves. He wracked his brain for anything that would get them out of there undetected.
“We might have to take them out,” Bond whispered.
Ethan ducked back behind the pillar, so close to Bond that their arms brushed. It was then, looking straight ahead at the wall, that he noticed the fire alarm.
“Better idea,” Ethan whispered, then gestured with his chin.
Bond only had to glance at the fire alarm before he nodded. Ethan held up his wrists again, trying to say, “I’d do it if I could.” Bond nodded again and set his eyes on the alarm. Ethan pushed down the strange feeling of excitement that came from an unspoken understanding between them.
Bond crept towards the fire alarm, eyes on Hayes and his associate the entire time. When he reached the fire alarm, he slammed the handle down, breaking the glass. He darted back to the pillar.
The alarm rang out, loud as a gunshot. Ethan and Bond could only press themselves against the pillar while Hayes and his associate got up from the table and made for the exit. They spoke in anxious voices, annoyed but still worried that a real fire had broken out. They walked down the center of the room and then pivoted to the fire escape. The door opened with a creak and then shut with a metallic bang.
They waited fifteen long seconds before they peeled away from the wall and rushed to the door. Bond opened it for Ethan, then guided it shut for minimal noise. Nervous chatter drifted up from the dozens of people on the stairs below. Anytime they heard a door open below them, they’d freeze, waiting until there’d be enough space between them and whoever was below them. Ethan didn’t want anyone to see that he wore handcuffs, but he especially didn’t want to run into Hayes while holding the man’s briefcase.
When they reached the third floor, Bond stopped Ethan with a hand around his bicep. “One more thing,” he said, opening the door.
Ethan frowned, but followed Bond through the door. They walked through a harmless-looking office space, desks with computers and papers. Ethan swiped a paper clip off a nearby desk and bent it out of shape, picking the lock on his handcuffs.
“What are we doing here?” Ethan whisper-shouted.
“Just follow me,” Bond responded without looking behind him.
Ethan didn’t like the sound of this at all. He stopped. “No. I'm getting out of here.”
“Not with that briefcase, you’re not.”
He swung around and kicked Ethan hard in the chest, sending him sprawling backwards. The briefcase slid out of his hands and out of his reach.
Ethan didn’t miss a moment, swinging out his feet and tripping Bond so he fell flat. Bond got his feet underneath him first, since Ethan struggled with the handcuffs. Bond was back on him in seconds. He blocked a kick from Ethan, swung him by the leg and threw him against the wall. The impact of his cheek hitting the cinderblock wall was enough to spark rage inside Ethan. He spun around and threw kick after kick, just wanting to get in a few good ones. Bond’s face, for the first time, was fearful.
But then Bond’s hands were on his wrists. He wrenched Ethan toward him and hooked an arm around his neck, blocking his windpipe. Ethan tried and failed to elbow his opponent. With his other hand, Bond grabbed one of Ethan’s elbows.
Ethan’s lungs burned. He resorted to stamping his heel down on Bond’s foot, to no avail. The other man held him tight as his attacks slowed. A burst of adrenaline made Ethan fight harder, but only for a moment. His vision went in and out. The world around him began to turn.
“It’s nothing personal,” Bond whispered in his ear, but Ethan couldn’t be sure he’d actually spoken. “None of this was.”
Then, at last, Ethan’s muscles gave out. He went limp, his legs barely managing to keep him up.
Bond dropped him to the floor. His sudden gasps for air numbed the impact as he hit the hard tiles. His throat burned with each sweet gust of oxygen. Ethan was vaguely aware of Bond walking around him to grab the briefcase. He tried to prop himself up on his arms, only for his body to break out in tremors. He dropped back down, the world spinning endlessly. He heard a door click shut behind him.
James Bond was gone, and so was the briefcase.
~
It didn’t take Ethan long to reorient himself and get to his feet. He found the paperclip lying on the floor next to him. He freed himself and darted down the remaining flights of stairs. Outside, he weaved through the crowd of people. None of them paid him any attention.
When he got to the getaway car, his fellow agent just glanced sidelong at him. Neither of them spoke as she put the car in gear and pulled away from the building.