I don't own Mission Impossible, just the awesome Slash Goggles I own!

Pairing: Hunt/Brandt – Handt? Brant? Hmmmm….this pairing needs an official name. Anybody got any ideas? Wilhan?

AN: Slight cursing, small undertones of the lusty type… ; )

From the very end of Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol, you know the scene.

AN: Ethan is reminiscing during this, meaning that there is a mixture of memory and present. It should be obvious which is which, but I apologize if it is not clear!

ANN: The scene is very hard to transcribe, so some of the lines may be written wrong. I apologize ahead of time.

Here we go!

Love was overrated, that is what he had decided in prison.

Yes, he loved Julia.

If ripping his heart out was needed to prove it to the world, he would have done it. In a, no pun intended, heartbeat. And even if there was no guarantee that it would work, he would still show the bloody organ to those who would look.

But loving her had not been enough, everything he tried ended in with her in danger. The latest attempt to keep her safe had been successful, but at the cost of him going to jail and never being able to see her again.

It was a double edged sword; she was safe, but he could never be with her. The loneliness and heartbreak had eventually quelled, becoming as hard as the concrete walls that had imprisoned him; that is the way it should be, being an IMF agent meant that he should not be distracted by things such as love. Those emotions had been put in the dark corner of his mind, which was the reason why he hadn't noticed the sparks and warmth until the mission was finished.

He blamed his lack of reaction to the feelings on the mission, the adrenalin, and the fact that the person that caused his frozen heart to melt was also the one who had, frankly, been a pain in the ass. Well, at least in the beginning; but then again, maybe it was his heart fighting to stay frozen that made him hate the man.

But it was impossible to hate someone forever unless you had a reason to hate them. Hating a person that was trying to help you, that was on your side, was irrational. As one of the most experienced and impressive agents in the IMF, he couldn't be irrational; focused, calm, and ready for anything was what he had to be.

He had been that, in the past, he still was that, in the present, and he would be that in the future.

When he had been sent to a Russian prison, he had calmly let himself be dragged into the cold building in chains; his composure maintaining while being broken out of that same prison, and he had been calm climbing the world tallest building with faulty equipment.

The climb was part of the tale that was told to not only the IMF but was rumored to have spread to all of the federal agencies, his legacy growing even more as a result; his team having been called heroes for accomplishing a seemly impossible task…

Impossible.

It seemed that he was only known for that, for impossible feats. For being cold, focused on the mission with no fear in his veins to distract. For being calm, with no concern for the weapons pointed at him. For being precise in everything he did, said, and thought.

To spell assume, you have to remember that when you assume; you make an ass out of you and me.

Assumptions of his character, the way he thought, and his actions somehow turned him into a rebel genius within the agency. Like how he was a man whore, seducing women in three seconds flat; the flip side of that being that he had turned asexual since the whole Julia incident. Or that he was so synthesized to violence and pain that he didn't even flinch when a bullet almost or did hit him.

He didn't bother himself to correct the rumors, because sometimes everything they said was true.

Sometimes he even amazed himself.

It seemed that he got up some days with the subconscious goal to fulfill or negate as many of the assumptions as he could. Most days he fulfilled, because the situation called for it; sometimes he negated because he couldn't show himself to be perfect any longer before his head would explode.

Fearlessness was an instinct, while emotion was an area where his control had slipped. Both sides had shown during Dubai.

Since the bastard who, unbeknown to him, was slowly melting his frozen heart, was only a 'helper' and Benji was not the person for the job; he was the one to climb up the tallest building ever with the help of sticky gloves that when turned red meant he was fuc…dead.

With annoyance at the delay, he had begun climbing. Ignoring the air, the coming sand storm, and the very annoying countdown in his ear; he was the picture perfect model of an IMF agent and more importantly the rumored person known as Ethan Hunt.

He had performed perfectly, despite the mechanical malfunction that occurred; then the flaw occurred. Streaming down the glass with cord that was found wasn't the problem, which was not what made the emotion slip through.

Even before the pain registered in his skull, the less than familiar notion of panic set in, putting his body on alert. But as the blow that came with the move of 'head against industrial glass' being performed, he knew he was going to die.

His gloves were useless; there was nothing that he would be able to grasp against the smooth glass to be able to stop him from plummeting to his death. Despite the fact that life held little except the current mission he was in charge of, he didn't want to die.

The lights of the surrounding city reminded him of the sunlight glinting off of the killer glass, which was one of the last things he thought he would have seen in his last few hazy filled moments of life.

Death was a part of the job, although no agent would ever tell you that they were not afraid of it. They were lying if they did; it was perfectly acceptable and expected to fear the end. Even those that were more worn and torn than he still had one point of weakness.

Then a hand had grabbed him, anchoring him from free fall. It wasn't Jane; he had known that much by how it was stronger and less dainty in feeling.

Slowly, he had somehow pulled himself up to catch a glimpse of brown eyes squinted in his direction. Thinking back, he could still feel the shivers that had raced down his spine then. Now he knew it they had been focused on their mission; that mission being that through hell, high water, or a sand storm, the owner of those eyes was getting him inside onto safe ground.

That, as he looked back, was the moment that two things happened that would change his life and the reason why he was sitting by the bay.

First, his heart of frozen cold concrete cracked a thousand times over, which caused everything to crumble. This caused his emotion control to fall, the only thing holding it back being sheer will as the newly released love surged to his brain when he saw the man who he had formally hated.

Second, he ceased to hate the man known as William Brandt; it seemed that it was actually quite the opposite.

This simple statement, when combined with the first, made for a cocktail of chaos; none of which had thankfully escaped in the silence as he and Brandt breathed. Eventually the presence of a third person dawned on him, right as Benji had entered the room.

The mission had gone on as well as a crackpot scheme as theirs could be expected to go; the feelings that had come to surface being shoved down by his instinct to carry on the mission through hell or high water. His crumbling control of his emotions and psyche had been held together long enough to stop Cobalt from being the psycho he was and blowing up part of the United States and the world.

But now that he was alone, with no one to impress or pretend for, they came back up and the concrete crumbled once again, unable to become a solid wall like it had been in the past.

He wasn't even sure it was possible, that he had fallen for someone else. He thought his brain and heart had agreed to not allow for something to happen. Both of the parties can come to the conclusion that he was not to fall back into love, not again. Not only was it a danger to the other person, his job would never be done, not unless he was dead, but he wasn't sure he could fall from the high called passion and slam into cold loneliness again.

He had gotten oven Julia, for the most part anyway, but going through that entire process again…it would more than likely kill him.

This was the reason as to why he was sitting in the cool night air, surrounded by a few drinkers, trying to figure all this shit out with only the sounds of his breathing, the river moving, and the slight hum of conversation.

He had to figure everything out, tangle the cords of his heart so that he wouldn't leave the table, which was to be the sight of their last meeting before a mission, with regret. If he left it till then, he would be all business and there would not be time to consider it. He had to do it now. Regret and guilt had plagued him before and would continue to in the future, but he couldn't deal with those emotions about the subject; he refused to.

Anything else, he could deal with, but not this.

His fingers twitched unconsciously, knowing that someone was approaching. It was an agent thing; even though his eyes had just closed and his senses were slightly dulled by the burning liquid having been poured down his throat moments ago as Luther was talking.

He knew who it was without even looking, it was the source of this conflict that was steadily consuming his brain, making him incapable of doing anything else. Even talking to Luther was a challenge, although he assumed he was doing a damn good job of seeming like his old self since the man had not mention anything yet. He had responded to questions, laughed; put on a perfectly good show that probably would get him an Oscar, all while struggling with a bigger problem than the one poised by his last mission.

He barely heard the deeper voice of his friend say "This must be them" as he turned with a fake, but wide smile. His eyes opened to see them there, or rather him since his brain being surprisingly illogical and deciding that through hell or high water something was going to happen and he couldn't just ignore the situation. His eyes must have joined the fray because he narrows in on the man.

"Luther Stickell, the firm of Carte, Dunn, and Brandt" The last word came out a little harder than the others, his vocal cords having joined the battle on the side of love, but he doubted the others noticed. The arm motion was unnecessary, but it just happened, probably another scheme since his fingers came so close to touching Brandt's jacket. He looked back at Luther, so that he wouldn't be tempted to focus on the awkwardly smiling idiot that was ruining his life.

It was obvious that the man did not want to be here; he suspected that Benji and Jane had convinced, also known as forced, the man into coming. Probably something having to do with blackmail or coming to hurt him in his sleep, although he was pretty sure the second threat would be made by Jane.

"I blew an entire weekend on the bottom of the San Francisco bay, no thanks to you clowns" The words just barely register as it dawns upon his brain that the source of this giant debate, one more complicated than the presidential kind or peace negotiations, is standing literally a foot or two away. His feet twitch, a motion he hides as he denies his eyes the movement of looking towards Brandt.

He knows he needs to say something, to keep up the charade, when Luther stands up and starts going for his pocket. "Ah man, you know I got this"

It's smooth and completely in his character, but for some reason he gets the feeling that Luther is going to be on his ass about why he was distracted tonight. Oh well, as long as he did not have to deal with it tonight.

"I know" Luther flips him the bird, he smirks and laughs while frantically trying to think of how he is going to maintain the show he had going on while that son of a bitch was going to be sitting near him.

"I'll see you in Canderhall" A fist bump later and he is alone to deal with the younger agents before him, one of which is probably as scared of the situation as he is. It was no secret the guilt the man held, which was probably why the man was slightly squirming.

"Thanks for meeting me" The appreciative statement is unneeded; they would have come regardless because he was the leader of their ragtag team and he wanted to meet. Well at least two of them would; he was pretty sure that Brandt would not be here unless forced, by a third party (Jane).

Of course the man sits right across from him; the fates demanded that he did. He subtly shifts so their feet don't scrape together accidentally. He lets out a controlled breath, knowing that he had to keep the composure of a relaxed, calm leader who was enjoying himself.

Benji slides into his chair on his left and starts doing what he does best, talking. While he may have been fine with the conversation another night, he was incredibly thankful that the attention was not solely on him; at least not yet. "So I hear the car insurance company is refusing to pay the claim on that car you crashed Ethan. Something about intentional hundred meter vertical drops not being covered"

Out of the corner of his eye, since he's staring at Benji (he is!), he sees the man who has turned his heart from concrete scar into a bleeding wound tuck a fist under his chin and awkwardly lean back to be at the edge of the conversation.

Although he would never admit this out loud, the pose was so unexpected, awkward, and cute.

The scream of insanity, because he is pretty sure that the bored idiot across from him is going to push him off the cliff in his mind that is keeping him sane, about to be created by his evil vocal chords seems to be about to blow his plan as his mouth opens. Surprisingly, all that comes out is a sarcastic "Go figure"

Despite the fact that it was almost as cheesy as 'Mission Accomplished', they laugh and that hurdle is behind him. If only there wasn't another one coming up that was a foot taller. He's pretty sure he's going to attempt the jump before tripping on it and skidding his tried face across the track and getting serious track burn tracks across his face.

Before he can consider how much that could and probably would fucking hurt, there's Jane to get his mind somewhat back on track "How's your leg?"

He shifts his focus from Benji to Jane and does not pass go in order to avoid making visual contact with the man across from him, especially eye contact. "Still working, you?"

She smiles; her lips forming a shape which he is pretty sure would have and has had men melting in piles of lust, unfortunately not him. Oh no, he has to be interested and attracted to the silently brooding number cruncher who some would probably write off as boring who is staring at him. He doesn't risk looking to confirm the accusation, but he's pretty damn sure that those eyes are on him.

Which in a way makes him feel good. It inflates the argument of the other side, since the gaze could be counted as evidence in the case of if he should or should not. It means that he isn't the only one who saw sparks, who felt the streams of lightning stream down skin, chills to the spine whenever they were in the same room….

No, he's crazy. There is no way that the man felt the same way. He was some deranged old man who had finally lost it and picked the nearest emotionally unstable man like him that he could find. Unfortunately, someone had actually filled that spot.

Although if someone was stupid enough to somehow get into the situation where her actually considered the person to be a replacement to fill the spot, the person actually kind of deserved it. But that wasn't right, especially for someone like Brandt.

"Healing"

There was a pause of silence, because he knew that out of all of them, Jane had taken the biggest hit with the loss of Hanaway. He had made sure to try and soften that blow as much as possible. He had been there, he knew it hurt. Of course he had not been able to do as much as he had wanted to, more regret there, but he was trying to save the world at the time.

"I'm fine by the way" Benji was making jokes again; it had only been eight weeks, but he missed it. He missed them, the late night debates over trivial matters, the serious moments ruined by sarcasm on one of their parts, and everything in between. He was glad there was another mission coming where they would be together. Well at least most of them, he still wasn't sure about…

"I mean, I'm not exactly sleeping. You know, cold sweats, middle of the night" They knew, the unspoken yes we know going through them. Every agent had been there and that was the way it was.

"All these people are happy and smiling and are completely oblivious to the fact that they were almost vaporized…"

He fades a bit, looking back over to the asshole his mind wants to be completely focused on; the face is no longer balanced on a fist but instead is looking towards the water behind Benji. The man was distracted, like he was, and the only reason he was picking up the change in Brandt's behavior was because he was looking for it. From a normal person's standpoint, unlike his fucked up version, the man probably looked as though he was being a good listener and gazing towards the speaker. But he wasn't, as he was.

Tucking the thought that something was bothering Brandt, for his mind to think and review, he looked back to where Benji was finishing up his ramble of how everyone around them should be grateful for his team saving their asses.

"…and if it hadn't been for…"

His breath catches in his throat as it happens, as a fourth voices joins the conversation; it foresight he knew this was going to happen but of course he still had to survive the sound of the deep voice filling his ears.

"Dumb luck"

His heart and eardrums, also known as two of the biggest fangirls in his body, were losing their minds. His brain was considering join the screaming muscles, but decided it was too controlled for that.

Addressing the comment head on was more it's speed. "Was it?"

He's looking right at the man; dammit, he had to do something productive with this so that his cover wouldn't slip.

Good job team for not getting killed or blowing up the world motivation speech?

That would work.

"I mean, look, we were unprepared, in the dark, disavowed…and the only thing that functioned properly on that mission was this team."

He gave it a moment to sink in and looked up. Those two eyes of the other man were staring at him again, before looking away after noticing that they had been caught. Now would be the time to continue…

"I'm glad we did" Smiles for them all, smiles were returned; except for one who was sulking again.

Well if he wasn't happy now he certainly was not going to be happy in a moment.

The metal of three phones was slick and smooth again his palm, they made a nice thunk as they slide onto the table in a timely and organized fashion. Without looking up he knew the only thing that was stopping Brandt from cringing was his training, the only thing.

"Your missions, choose to accept them" He was firm yet flow like in the statement; he knew two were already in.

"Eh, look, I'm in" Something would be seriously wrong if Benji didn't. "Seriously, it's not like any mission is going to be rougher than the last one is it?" There were chuckles that soon turned awkward. "It's not like a bomb…is it?"

That was the breaking point, where it all turned into what the meeting was supposed to be, a meeting between friends. They all laughed, the mood of the table becoming more consistent of that of the establishment.

"Thanks Ethan"

"No, thank you"

A handshake later and their geeky little technician was gone, safe and onboard for the next round of craziness.

One down, he knew Jane would be next, especially since the analyst looked like he wouldn't touch the phone with a ten foot pole.

"Agent Hunt"

"Agent Carter"

Then it was just them.

Sure there were other people, they were in public, but really it was just them.

He still had no idea what he was going to say. All that time he had to think, eight weeks for Christ sakes, and he had no idea.

Although it really did not seem to matter as the man stood and left the device untouched; it didn't matter because Brandt would disappear into the night and into the folds of the IMF's desk workers.

He couldn't let that happen.

Good thing he had created a plan C.

Plan A had been the simple plan where Brandt had taken the damn phone and he had more time to consider his feelings. Or more than likely ignoring them since that's what guys do.

Plan B was where he hunted the man down before the meeting and jumped him, literally. Jumped his bones. But considering he could have been shot or worse rejected, he had quickly tossed the plan out.

Oh yes, plan C was the best.

"Brandt"

The footsteps stopped beside him, it soothed his ego a bit to know he had the man's attention, as well as enough respect for him to stop. Or perhaps it was pity for what happened. Either way it really did not matter since he had Brandt's attention.

There was a sigh and the voice that sounded sexy even when it was in depressed mode "I'm not picking up that phone Ethan, because I don't think you want me in the field"

He really wished the man knew how wrong he was, on so many levels; now would be the perfect time to tell him, everything. And that meant everything. He decided against it, for now.

Before he could say a word, the man continued. He knew there was possibility of a confession, actually the odds of it was quite high; now was the time to let the man get his emotion baggage out of the way, so that unloading his own would be more accepted.

"I know your wife is dead, I was there in Croatia. I was there for one reason, one, and I failed. It was my job to protect her…"

Alright, he decided to stop the pity party right there. He was past Julia, now was the time to show it.

"How do you know she's dead?" He could feel the confusion radiating off of the man.

"There was a body" The fact was spoken in a wavering voice; like he was firmly set in knowing that it was the truth, yet his question had set the man off guard.

"Did you see it?"

More confusion; but that was a side effect when you took the source of a man's guilt and turned in on its head.

"But you killed all those Serbians…"

"I had to get her back"

"But you were sent to Rentgo prison…"

"It was a sacrifice I was willing to make, IMF suspected that Hendricks had people in Rentgo "

He waited for the truth to dawn on the man, for the regret and guilt that etched its way into that worn, torn, and yet beautiful face to melt away.

"And six dead Serbians was the perfect cover"

"Eh, waste not want not"

The tension seemed to melt from the man as he sighed before plopping down in the chair that had been Benji's, all the effort he had put into walking away in same for nothing. There was exasperated chuckles that came next as worn hands rubbed tired temples, he had the feeling that the man probably felt like an idiot.

"The Secretary never told me…oh…." Yep, Brandt felt like a grade A idiot.

Time to turn a bit more serious.

"I accepted the Rentgo prison mission under one condition, that no one could know that she was still alive" That way she could live again without having to be tied to him and he was free in knowing that she was safe, which in his line of business was the best feeling in the world.

"But you're telling me?" He really hoped it was not that hard to believe; that the man was so far in guilt that there was no way that he thought that Ethan Hunt would trust him. Of course in a relationship of any kind, trust was a deciding factor and if there was any way that he was going to have the balls to admit anything to Brandt, he needed to make sure that the man knew he trusted him. With his secrets, with his life.

"When did you find out I was in Croatia?" The question was a simple one, with a simple answer.

"I pulled your file after India" The man nodded with the thought that went with it being, 'of course you did'.

"Right" Simple word to reply to a simple answer to an extremely simple question.

"So you had to fake your wife's death…" With that type of tone it sounded much worse than it had been; the day had been a horrible one but a good one as well since Julia would finally be safe.

"As long as we are together, she can never be safe. It wasn't your job to protect her Brandt, it's mine" That was the truth, even though they had both agreed that seeking other companionship was allowed so that they could be happy.

She had a new boyfriend, it wasn't serious yet. Although that hadn't stopped him from pulling the ma's file; nothing too serious except a few bad grades in high school. She was smiling more than during the start of the separation, so he knew he had made the right decision.

"So we're good?" The handshake was not long enough for his taste, the exposure of skin making him crazier than ever.

"We're good" He pulled the man a little closer out of what he would blame on a muscle spasm, although it was just his brain screwing with him.

The phone was taken, relief radiating out as the footsteps slowly left his space. He was seeing Brandt again, which was the most important thing that was to be accomplished by the night. On his list of most productive things he had done, this ranked number one, beating out saving the world again just barely.

Leaving money, which was too much for the drinks and a good tip combined, he went to look across the water. Eventually she gave him a smile, which he returned. Everything had worked out alright, although there was still one last thing to do.

He considered listening to the mission specifications while walking to the other side of the river, it was a decent walk, but the first words bored him to the point where he turned it off after the iconic words.

He had it figured out, at least he hoped he did; but really changing his mind now was cowardly. And that was certainly not what Ethan Hunt of the IMF was known for.

Around him were the lights and sounds of civilization which collided and mixed smoothly with the natural waves and stars. Bright sparkles casted across the water as neon signs did, he became one with it all to ignore himself from the jitters and fears about what was going to happen.

He knew that the man had received the information by now, that the meeting was arranged and backing out now was not an option. The worn bricks of aged buildings surrounded in a flash, it was almost time. It wasn't the cleanest area, but it was close and deserted, so there was no audience to distract him.

It would be perfectly disastrous, under starry skies.

"What did you forget to tell me?

There were those two brown stars standing out brighter than a thousand of their Northern counterparts, staring at him. There was no fear, no anxiousness; just bliss. Every fiber of him was now united; there was no doubt, nothing but perfection.

Words couldn't describe the important shred of information, so instead there was skin, only movement and heat despite the chilled air.

After a moment, he leaned back from the first (hopefully of many) kiss; Brandt leaned against the brick wall that had become support.

"Well that was an important piece of information to leave out" He said nothing, giving the man enough room to flee if necessary although his mind assured him nothing of the sort would happen.

"And to think you are an IMF agent, shame on you Ethan" There was that wicked smile; he laughed before reclaiming the chills that were caused not by the air rustling through the leaves.

It was perfection; disastrously planned, beautifully executed.

His mind remembered selected things: Julia, mission facts, training….

And now to add to the collection, stars, because that was where his second round of bliss began.

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Thank you for reading!