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“Please don’t make me laugh,” Ethan rasps, wincing from the pain in his ribs. The others are laughing, too.
Benji’s glad. He managed to make them laugh, even though it hurt. Still, he laughs, because they are all alive, because they prevented a nuclear apocalypse – again, because they beat the odds and survived – again, because Ethan is able to smile and laugh again. The more he laughs, however, the more he feels the need to cough. So he stops. He can no longer see Ethan from his spot, as Ilsa has stepped closer and hid Ethan’s face from view. It occurs to him that Ethan hasn’t been looking at him by that point anyway, checking on the rope burns on Ilsa’s neck. Fair enough. Why would he? Benji’s own neck begins to sting again and he suddenly feels the urge to leave, leave as fast as possible, he needs air, needs more air, like his lungs are starving for it over again, just like in that house, just like when there was a noose around his throat, and now it’s tightening around him again, and he can’t get it off, can’t take a breath, doesn’t know how to take a breath...
Trying not to make any loud gasps or attract any attention, he stumbles outside. Losing the support of the shelf he was leaning on makes him struggle to find his balance for a few seconds. His chest is tight and his eyes are stinging, head buzzing. He might have a slight concussion for all he knows, but he’s nowhere near as bad as Ethan.
The fresh air is almost intoxicating, nearly knocking him out cold when he takes a breath. The breath was too deep, he realizes, and he coughs. It’s harsh, raw and painful, but it’s only a small addition to the ache he has all over his body. It’s also a reminder that he’s alive. Still. Somehow. He looks up at the blue sky, at the village around him. Tries not to imagine what they prevented just a few hours earlier. He wonders absently what kind of nightmares he’s now going to have. He’s already had nuclear blast-related ones after Mumbai; it would be too repetitive and unoriginal of his mind to give him the same ones this time. He coughs again. He has always been good at easing the tension with some silly remarks and babbling. Sometimes it even worked to distract him from his own mind. Not this time though. There is too much haunting him. Too much appearing in front of his eyes whenever he shuts them. He hears more laughter from the tent, and it burns more than he expected.
“Benji!” a voice calls. Luckily, it sounds from behind him, so he still has the time to plaster a smile on his face.
“Hi, Jules!”
“Are you feeling okay?” she had asked this before, back when Ethan was still unconscious, so now Benji just winces. She had even given him some painkillers, but he prefers not to take them yet, hoping that the pain would distract him from the hive of thoughts in his head. Julia is not satisfied with his lack of an answer and lets out a huff. “Listen, you can still have some complications, so look out for any possible symptoms like troubled breathing or any pain in your neck or chest. And no solid food until it’s cleared by a doctor, is that clear?”
Benji has already heard this before, so he simply nods with a slightly absent look in his eyes. Julia’s face softens a tad, losing some of its professional sternness she no doubt puts on for her most stubborn patients.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” she asks with a sympathetic look Benji knows he would hate if he wasn’t too exhausted to care about it. Benji takes a few seconds to ponder on what he’s about to ask before he speaks.
“I… You said that you were going to leave here?” Benji asks, trying not to think about how he can’t force any expression into his voice.
“Yeah, the first few people are set to leave tomorrow, though I think I’m going to stay until a bit later. Why?”
Benji throws a look at the tent he just left.
“Can I go with them?”
“Benji, are you kidding me? You need to be under medical supervision!”
“Won’t I be with a whole bunch of medical professionals?” she doesn’t answer, just looks at him slightly incredulously as he breaks into another coughing fit. “Julia, please. I… I can’t stay here”.
Julia is a blessing. She doesn’t ask him why he wants to leave this much. Doesn’t ask him any further questions at all.
Recovery takes Ethan longer than he likes, even though everyone, annoyingly, keeps saying how phenomenally speedy his progress is. Maybe it’s his age finally letting itself known to him, or maybe just one of the many things occupying his mind and not letting him get a proper rest.
He’s been moved to a city hospital not long after the day he’d woken up, all thanks to Sloane’s efforts and in spite of his own fairly vocal protests. Julia left soon afterwards, having made sure he got all settled. Ilsa has been here and there, probably settling things with the MI6, and Luther chose to stay and keep Ethan company. Ethan is thankful for that, because there are very few things he hates more than being stuck in a hospital bed for weeks and weeks.
Not to mention that somebody else is notably missing, and Ethan doesn’t really know what to think about that. Benji hasn’t answered any of his calls beyond a dry response on those rare occasions when he actually picks up his phone, saying that he is doing fine, followed by an apology and a claim to be busy visiting family or baby-sitting a nephew Ethan never knew Benji had. Soon enough, he stops answering altogether, only sending an occasional text with an apology and yet another excuse. It puts Ethan rather on edge, because what if something happened? Or maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to you, because maybe this mission was the last straw of you dragging him into dangerous situations. Maybe his patience with you has finally run out. Ethan has to physically shake his head sometimes in order to make that voice at the back of his mind get lost. It never really does.
It’s still suspicious. Ethan doesn’t remember Benji looking angry at him last time he saw him, standing at the entrance of Ethan’s tent with Ilsa and Luther. Granted, he didn’t see him that well, but from what he saw, there was no indication of why Benji would suddenly start acting like this. Actually, there was a time after that, but it was so vague that Ethan wonders if it could have been a dream. On the very next night, Ethan opened his eyes briefly and saw Benji standing there, at the same spot as before, smiling that sad smile of his that Ethan has grown to hate so much. Before Ethan could say anything or even just reach out towards him, Benji was gone, and Ethan realized he was reaching out to nothing. Even now, as he thinks of that ghost-like vision, he still can’t decide whether it was real or not.
The others aren’t that helpful, either. Whenever Ethan brings it up, Ilsa shakes her head and suggests that Benji probably needs some time for himself. Luther shrugs and quietly agrees with her. For some reason, it makes Ethan even more frustrated.
As days and weeks pass, he gives himself a promise that as soon as he gets out of the hospital, the first thing he will do is finding Benji.
As it turns out, the first thing he does is attend a long and tedious meeting at the Headquarters. He has to admit, seeing Brandt trying to fill the shoes of an Acting Secretary of the IMF is rather amusing, but it would be so much more so if a certain someone else were here to mock him.
“Benji?” Ethan asks brightly, to clarify where exactly he can find him. A frown passes over Brandt’s face.
“I talked to him a couple of days ago. He requested some vacation time,” he says, and something about it irks Ethan slightly. It doesn’t sound like it’s not true, it just feels way too much like Brandt practiced this answer before.
“He wouldn’t answer his phone,” Ethan proceeds with a small smile. “Did something happen to it? Did he change his number?”
Brandt frowns again, minutely this time. Or maybe he’s now better at hiding it.
“He didn’t. Maybe he just wants to have some real time off? To get away from all…” Brandt waves around vaguely, “… this”.
“Yeah…” Ethan makes himself agree. It stings more than he cares to admit. More than he expected even. “Maybe”.
Ethan goes home and tries to call Benji again. To no avail. He’s not sure who he’s more frustrated with or why: Benji for treating him like this or himself for being this affected by it. He spends a few more days like this, while also catching up on all the latest events and physical therapy. As time passes, his curiosity, now mixed with worry, gets the best of him. Benji would never just ignore his phone calls like this. Benji would never turn away from him. Would he?...
He feels outright stupid, yet here he is, in a hallway, in front of the door of Benji’s apartment. He tells himself that if Benji tells him to go away, he will do so without an argument. He just needs to know why. He takes a deep breath and knocks. There is no response. No sign of movement from inside the apartment. Feeling even dumber than before, Ethan knocks again, to the same effect.
“He’s not in,” says a voice behind him. He almost jumps, but retains his composure and turns around with a big smile.
“Hello, Mrs. Bisley!”
Mrs. Bisley has always been one of Benji’s nosiest neighbors. Generally, having a neighbor like that is not a good thing, especially with their job, but right now Ethan cannot believe his luck at meeting her.
“Do you happen to know where he went?” he asks, still smiling, trying to sound casual. The woman gives him a slightly suspicious look and shakes her head.
“Maybe I should wait, in case he comes back soon?”
The look on her face gets even more suspicious.
“He hasn’t been here for days,” she barks. Ethan feels like a complete idiot. He doesn’t really know what he expected, just showing up here to see Benji, as if Benji would be sitting at home waiting for him all day long. You’ve already made him wait for six months, Ethan. And then ended up nearly getting him killed. Why would he ever wait for you again?...
“I don’t know if he’s ever coming back, you know…” there she goes. Ethan recognizes that look on her face that she gets every time she has some gossip to share. He raises an eyebrow.
“Why? Did anything happen?”
The woman makes a motion with her head, urging Ethan to come closer, and he does as prompted.
“He wasn’t… right when he got home a couple of months ago,” she says quietly. “Was kind of… off, you know? His face was all bruised and cut, but he only told me that he was in an accident. Well, actually, he told me to mind my own business at first,” she seems appalled at that, but quickly regains her composure, clearly enjoying the story she’s telling too much. “He barely talked anyway. He looked kind of ill, too. So I didn’t ask anything. You know, I respect it if someone doesn’t want others to know something about them…”
She makes a pause, clearly needing approval for her respect of other people’s privacy, and Ethan barely forces himself to nod.
“So I think, hey, this is all strange, you know? But then I saw… the other bruises, and it all makes sense”.
Her face is mournful, but Ethan can tell she’s all but beaming with excitement to continue her story. She just waits for Ethan’s confirmation that he’s listening. Ethan feels something unsettling rising up inside him.
“The… other bruises?”
She nods and opens her mouth to continue, when a voice from inside her apartment cuts her off.
“Marsha, will you stop spreading gossip?” an elderly man shows up at the doorstep. “Oh, hello… Ethan, right?”
“Hello, Mr. Bisley,” Ethan nods, too lost in thought to put on another smile.
“I wasn’t spreading gossip,” Mrs. Bisley pouts slightly. “You know this is how I lost my brother”.
“I know, but we don’t really know if this is the case here, do we?”
“Listen,” Mrs. Bisley ignores her husband’s hands on her shoulders and looks at Ethan. Her voice is soft and not unkind, despite the fact that she’s clearly enjoying her role of someone who knows it all a bit too much. “You know I would never want anything bad to happen, but if you haven’t heard from Benjamin in a while… You better prepare yourself for the bad news. My brother was just like this, and his first attempt failed, too…”
“First… attempt?” Ethan’s mouth is completely dry, and he finds himself in one of the very rare occasions where he can’t really even begin to process the information he’s being given.
“That’s it,” Mr. Bisley cuts her off, clearly embarrassed about her seemingly going too far. “That’s enough, Marsha. I’m sorry, Ethan, we should go. Have a nice day”.
It’s a bit awkward, and Ethan only catches a glimpse of Mrs. Bisley’s last sorrowful look at him before the door closes, and he’s left standing alone in an empty hallway. His head is buzzing, thoughts swirling in it wildly. He digs his fingers in his hair and reaches his other hand into his pocket. It’s only now that he notices how much his hands are trembling.
He dials Benji’s number first. Rather predictably, there is no response. He doesn’t waste any time before calling Brandt next.
“Go,” Brandt’s usual answer to phone calls does nothing to comfort him with its familiarity.
“Brandt… Where’s Benji?” Ethan goes straight to the point.
“Ethan…”
“Brandt. Where is he? Just… tell me”.
There is a long sigh on the other end of the call.
“He’s on a mission”.
“He what?!”
“He asked to go back to the field as soon as he was cleared by our medical staff. He passed all the tests, including the psych evaluation, so he could go back to work”.
Ethan thinks back to Mrs. Bisley’s words. To what they were clearly implying. Ethan can’t really imagine… that, but… Benji had seemed sort of beside himself... and wouldn’t talk to Ethan. Why wouldn’t he talk to him?! But, Ethan reminds himself, if Benji passed his psych evaluation, it must mean that she was wrong. Right?
“Brandt… You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”
“Of course not. It’s okay, Ethan, he’s okay. The mission I put him on is a surveillance thing, nothing too tough. He should be back soon enough”.
Ethan’s thoughts are still a jumbled mess as he walks back home. Benji has been acting very strange ever since leaving so soon in Kashmir. Why wouldn’t he talk to him though? Doesn’t Benji trust him enough? Is he angry at him for something?
Worry coils in Ethan’s chest and sits there like a piece of barbed wire, cutting and slicing into everything around it. It stays there on the next day, and the day after, and the one after that. Ethan keeps throwing looks at his phone, waiting for anything, any news from Brandt. Dreading that the news might not be good. But all he has is silence.
He tries to distract himself. He pushes himself more with the physical therapy, he goes on long walks. He remembers Benji telling him that video games helped him distract himself from the stress in real life, but then realizes that playing them without Benji feels too wrong. He needs Benji to play video games with. He needs Benji to joke with and tease. He needs Benji.
He’s toying with his phone one day when it suddenly buzzes in his hand. Shaking slightly, Ethan answers it in a split second.
“Hey, Ethan,” the voice sounds tired and slightly low, a bit dull even, but the most important thing is that it’s…
“Benji!” Ethan feels like he can breathe again. He realizes that the past days -months even, if he is to count his time in the hospital with little to no contact at all- have been a bit like that water tank in Morocco. Like he had been holding his breath all that time, until now. Now that he’s actually talking to Benji.
“Listen, Ethan, I… wanted to apologize for not answering your calls and… I was being a knob. I’m sorry”.
“No-no-no, Benji, it’s okay,” it’s not okay, but Ethan doesn’t want to make Benji feel guilty. “How have you been?”
“Fine,” there is something slightly off with Benji’s tone. It sounds too flat. “Just got back home after a mission. Brandt gave me something really boring this time. Nobody even hung on the side of a plane. And no helicopter crashes, either”.
“Maybe it’s because I wasn’t there?” Ethan offers and feels physically warm when Benji chuckles at that.
“Yes, I can see how any boring mission is only boring because you’re not there,” he says, still chuckling. Ethan must be imagining things, because it sounds a bit strained.
“Benji, listen,” for some reason Ethan feels very awkward. “Do you want to hang out? Come to my place or… I can come over? I haven’t played any video games for a while, we could…”
“That sounds lovely, Ethan, but I’m sorry, I can’t,” Benji’s words are a bit too rushed. Since when is Ethan over-analyzing his responses?... “I’m really tired after this mission and a 13-hour flight. So… maybe some next time?”
“Yeah,” Ethan almost slaps himself. “Right. Sorry. Go get some rest, Benji”.
Ethan spends the following day in a slightly uncertain mood. He’s expecting, waiting for something to happen. He checks his phone way too often, and then has to laugh at himself. The day after goes similarly to the previous one. Two more days later, when Ethan contemplates calling Benji again, he receives a call from Brandt.
“There’s something that you don’t really have to do, but I figured you might want to,” Brandt starts, and Ethan quirks an eyebrow. “The CIA are handing Lane over to the MI6. I thought maybe you’d want to be there”.
“Have you told the others?” Ethan asks instead of giving a response.
“Luther is on holiday and says he doesn’t care,” in spite of himself, Ethan smirks at that. “Benji has already gone to London. The exchange is going to take place there. I heard Ilsa Faust is going to be there, too”.
Ethan barely listens to the end of that sentence.
“When does my plane take off?”
Lane meets him with an expression of mild fascination. Even like this, strapped down and reduced to a completely pathetic mess, he still has the same unsettling effect on Ethan as he does in all of his nightmares. Somehow, despite Ethan’s stony expression, Lane seems to know exactly how he makes Ethan feel, as if he has actually been in all those dreams of Ethan’s, has seen Ethan’s mind inside out.
“Nice to see you again, Ethan,” he greets him, almost warmly, with a small smile.
“Shut up,” Ethan snarls through gritted teeth. He is trying to subtly check the room for any familiar faces but can see none, except for Erica Sloane, who is standing by a desk with her arms folded in front of her chest. She gives him a nod, accompanied by a smile that is somehow both encouraging and almost frightening.
Lane’s eyes focus somewhere behind Ethan, and the smile evaporates from his face, yet the fascination in it still doesn’t waver.
“Hello, Ilsa,” he says with the same fake friendliness. His eyes then turn slightly to the side and there’s a new twinkle in them, though he doesn’t say anything.
Ethan turns around and follows his gaze, to see Ilsa approaching, accompanied by a pale and uncomfortable looking Benji. It hits Ethan that this is the first time that he sees Benji since waking up in Kashmir, more than two months ago. Instinctively, he looks for visible injuries, but can’t see any. He’s so preoccupied with his thoughts that he only manages a small nod as a greeting with Ilsa. His attention is fully on Benji, scanning every square millimeter of his face. Benji’s gaze, however, is glued to Lane, hardly even acknowledging Ethan’s presence. Ethan has to stomp down unto the growing feeling of unease at that.
A knock on the door makes everyone turn their heads.
“Ms. Sloane?” a timid looking young man calls. “You’re needed to finish up some paperwork”.
Slone responds with a usual smile.
“He’ll be ready for transport when I’m done,” she explains, already walking towards the door. “Agent Hunt, I want you to accompany him, along with our convoy”.
Ethan nods, even though she doesn’t wait for his response on her way out.
“So we’re back where we were, aren’t we, Ethan?” Lane monotones, and Ethan can’t help the cold feeling spreading through him, as it always does upon hearing that voice.
“Except this time, you’re not getting away,” Ethan finds that his voice is slightly hoarse. Lane smirks.
“Are you sure?” he’s not even hiding his incredulous undertones. “You really should have killed me, Ethan”.
“Killing you will make it too easy for you,” Ethan snarls. Lane raises an eyebrow.
“Your friend wants to,” he replies, his smirk growing wider. Ethan follows his gaze, and almost doesn’t recognize Benji for a split second. Benji’s eyes are dark, boring into Lane heavily, laced with so much hatred it makes Ethan physically shiver. Benji’s face should not be expressing this level of rage. Benji should not be tainted by these feelings. They will destroy him, destroy everything that he is, destroy the light Ethan has always looked for to show him the way, destroy the warmth that has always comforted Ethan when he felt cold, like he does right now. That is, if all of that has not been destroyed yet.
Ethan waits for Benji to say something, anything, to call Lane out, to berate him, but it doesn’t happen. Benji remains unmoving and silent, with the same look distorting his features, oblivious to Ilsa placing her hand on his arm.
“So what, am I going to be arrested now?” Lane asks conversationally. “Are they going to trial me for treason?”
“Shut up,” Ethan hisses half-heartedly once again, struggling to not just turn his full attention to Benji right then and there.
“At least back in the day, treason was punished by death,” Lane continues, as if he’s just sharing a fun history fact with friends. His gaze flicks from one agent to the other until it settles on Benji. “By hanging, to be exact. I wonder what that must have felt like,” he smirks when Benji’s hands ball into fists. “Must have been a painful way to go,” he continues, slowly, almost hypnotizing. “Your breathing gets blocked by the rope, along with the blood circulation to your brain, blocking the oxygen from your whole body, and your throat is crushed, and gravity is your worst enemy…”
He falls silent, with an odd, unreadable expression on his face. No matter how hard Ethan tries to look into it, he can’t decipher it.
“Your throat collapses,” another voice continues suddenly, low and raspy, yet completely expressionless. It takes Ethan a second to realize that it’s really Benji speaking. His face is white as a sheet. His eyes are slightly distant now, yet glistening with wetness. “Your chest hurts, you can’t draw a breath. Your vision starts flashing with colors, ears ringing, head feels like it’s about to explode. Your whole body hurts, because it knows it’s dying. It’s a bit… a bit like you’re already in hell,” he looks at Ilsa, who is still standing by his side and squeezing his arm, and it’s only now that he seems to realize that she’s even there. He smirks, and it somehow looks even more alien on his face than the cold rage before. “But it’s all over soon enough. Everything just fades and goes away. Don’t worry though,” he exchanges another look with Ilsa before turning to Lane again, his expression even harder now. “Our friends in MI6 will make sure you’ll get something better than that”.
Not for the first time as of late, Ethan feels like he’s suddenly back in that water tank in a Moroccan power plant, like he’s drowning again, like water has filled not only his lungs, but also somehow his brain. He stares at Benji and cannot utter a word, cannot even form any of the questions he needs to ask.
The sounds of the opening door and the clicking of Sloane’s heels are loud enough to snap everyone out of their thoughts.
“Okay, everything is go,” she announces chirpily, completely oblivious to the atmosphere in the room, or maybe choosing to ignore it. “Agent Hunt, please take him downstairs to the car”.
Ethan is still visibly shaking. He slowly turns to Benji and Ilsa again.
“The sooner you leave, the sooner you come back,” Ilsa reasons, still squeezing Benji’s arm. “We’ll wait for you here”.
Ethan nods to her, but then looks at Benji. After a second of him searching Benji’s face, their gazes finally meet, for the first time in all these months. Benji’s features soften ever so slightly, and Ethan can clearly see the tears building up in those blue eyes, making Benji look down and shake his head. Ethan wants to wipe those tears away, to wipe all of Benji’s tears away, to shield Benji from anything that might be haunting him… which Ethan is suddenly really scared to think about. He tries to look Benji in the eyes again, just one more time, but Benji wouldn’t look up from the floor.
“Go, Ethan,” Ilsa says again. That’s when Ethan finally turns back to Lane and sees a way too amused look on his face. It takes all of his self control to keep himself from punching the man, from beating him, for everything, for all the nightmares he has had in the past two years, and for… something unclear swirling in his head, something that his brain wouldn’t process yet.
Ethan reaches out and grabs Lane’s elbow, perhaps a bit too roughly, but all is good to make him stop looking at Benji with those cold, feral eyes of his. As soon as they have their backs to the Ilsa and Benji, Lane’s attention is on Ethan. He keeps studying Ethan’s face throughout the entire walk, not even looking at the other agents that follow them, one of them holding his other elbow.
“This is interesting,” he says with a smirk as soon as they are behind the door. Ethan feels his skin crawl. “You didn’t know, did you?”
Ethan does not grace that with a reply and focuses on keeping his expression stone cold. Or at least trying to do so.
“Your friend didn’t tell you,” Lane muses. “I wonder why…”
It takes all of Ethan’s might to not lash out and beat that smirk off Lane’s face there and then. It also takes a lot of effort to not ask him what the hell all of that meant. That latter thought makes Ethan feel even more sick than he already was. Mrs. Bisley’s sympathetic expression flashes in his mind’s eye again, her cryptic stories crawling under his skin. It can’t be that. And how would Lane know, even if that was the case?... But it can’t be that anyway. It just can’t. Instead of saying anything, he pushes Lane forward.
Watching Lane being shoved into a car boot is oddly much more satisfying than Ethan had imagined. There is something helpless in how deranged Lane looks, about how small the whole thing makes him seem. The ride to the exchange spot takes up a ridiculous stretch of time, much longer than what Ethan’s watch shows. He suddenly realizes that he doesn’t even really care about being here. He does need to be sure that Lane does not make any escape this time, but at the same time he can barely think about that. He tries to regulate his breathing and clear his mind. It works, just as it always does, but…
He tries to think of something soothing, mind reaching out to determine the things that would soothe him right now. A pair of blue eyes he saw just minutes ago is there. But not the way that he actually saw those eyes then, haunted by things that Ethan still has no idea about, but on other occasions. Twinkling with warmth. Shining brightly when their owner smiled. That smile on itself as well, as if the world was not such a horrible place after all, as if there were some room for hope in it. Frustrated, Ethan lets out a long and heavy breath. He needs this to be over so that he can go back and finally talk to Benji.
There is some irrational, ridiculous fear in Ethan that Benji’s not going to be there when he comes back. That Benji is going to disappear and keep avoiding him, escaping from his reach. That would probably be fair, but… he just needs to know.
The exchange itself is mercifully quick. The mild amusement of watching Lane being extracted from one car boot only to be shoved into another one is still there and manages to make the whole thing ever so slightly more bearable. The drive back, however, takes even longer than the first one. Ethan needs these weeks of confusion to end, he needs to see Benji again, to talk to him… What is he going to tell him? Yes, he will listen to him first, if he has anything to say, that is, and then… Ethan swallows down his anxiety. Keep it together.
Once he’s back in the building, he actually runs up the stairs, so fast that his almost-healed knees groan in protest, but he ignores it. There is some unknown force propelling him forward, telling him to go faster, as if something horrible will happen if he gets there late. He only barely manages to keep himself from bursting through the door, but he still opens it with significant force.
Just as Ilsa promised, Ethan finds both her and Benji right where he had left them. Both are sitting on a bench, backs to the wall, heads now turned in his direction, slightly confused by his disturbed look.
“How did it go?” Ilsa asks in a strained and controlled voice.
“Just as planned,” Ethan replies. He notes that Benji’s eyes are not filled with tears anymore and both he and Ilsa let some tension leave them at hearing his response.
Ethan allows himself to calm down. He walks closer to the other two and lays his hand on Benji’s shoulder as he lowers himself down onto the bench next to him. The contact is casual, just like has happened countless times before. It makes Benji look up at him and give him another humorless smile, one that has grown to be one of Benji’s expressions Ethan hated the most. A moment later Benji gives the same smile to Ilsa, as she pats his other shoulder, standing up.
“I’ll go check if Lane really got where they were taking him,” she casually comments, already walking towards the door. Once she leaves, the room is enveloped in silence.
Ethan watches as Benji presses the back of his head against the wall he’s leaning on and closes his eyes. Out of all the things chaotically swirling in his head, he can’t for the life of him actually let anything out.
“How have you been?” Benji finally asks after a long silence.
“Healing,” Ethan rasps, unable to look at Benji’s face as if he’s just seen the world’s most twisted riddle. Benji must have sensed that stare, because he finally opens his eyes.
“You okay?” he asks, giving Ethan a concerned look. “I’m sorry I didn’t… check on you enough, I…”
“It’s alright,” Ethan tries to assure when he realizes that Benji’s not going to finish that sentence. “It’s good to see you”.
Benji’s lips form another semblance of a smile.
“Good to see you, too, mate”.
Ethan swallows. There is something thick and heavy in the air between them, weighing down on both of them, pressing with a great force. A few more seconds, and the silence becomes unbearable.
“Benji, what was that about?” he asks, unable to walk around in circles anymore.
“What was what about?” Benji asks calmly. Ethan can clearly see that he understand perfectly well what he was asking about. He is not going to let go of this.
“What you told Lane,” his voice is firm now, almost strict. “What was all that about?”
Benji huffs out a breath and shuts his eyes again.
“That was… stupid,” embarrassment. Ethan can clearly sense it in Benji’s voice. He doesn’t like that tone, but it’s better than no expression at all.
“Benji. Please, just tell me. If there’s anything I can…”
“It’s nothing!” Benji’s eyes snap open, but still won’t meet Ethan’s. He swallows thickly. “Everything is fine now. Don’t worry about it”.
“How am I supposed to not worry when you suddenly snap and start describing what it feels like to be hanged?” Benji winces at that, and Ethan lets out a sigh. “Benji, I just… please talk to me… Or don’t, if you don’t want to, but please tell me why”.
Benji shakes his head, staring at his hands.
“To tell you the truth, I thought Ilsa had already told you,” he shrugs slightly. “There’s not much to tell, really. Back in Kashmir, when we were separated… Ilsa found the other bomb, and Lane captured her there. I came there for her… ran right into the trap like an idiot, and Lane was waiting for me there, with a noose. He…” he swallows a lump in his throat. Ethan watches him, his own mouth completely dry. “He strangled me for a bit, and we fought. I even glassed him at one point,” he smirks and shakes his head. “And then he hanged me”.
Ethan stares at him, unable to form any coherent sentences. Benji must have noted the prolonged silence. He lets out an uncomfortable, quiet chuckle.
“Ilsa managed to get free,” he continues, his voice distant. “She went on to fight Lane. You know, he’s much stronger than he looks. I remember I did kick him before I passed out…” he pauses, because Ethan lets out a harsh, choked up little breath. “And then I woke up on the floor once Ilsa had cut the rope. That’s pretty much it”.
After another long pause, he finally chances a glance at Ethan’s face and flinches at his stricken expression.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ethan is slightly breathless as he’s asking the question, as if someone had punched him in the chest, harder than a combination of all of the hits that had cracked his ribs in his entire life. Benji’s cheeks light up with a blush, eyes welling up some more.
“You were busy,” he mutters. Ethan lets another choked breath, disbelieving. “Besides, you had it much worse. I was fine, really. Just a few weeks, and I was as good as new”.
“Benji…” Ethan reaches out vaguely in front of him, and his hand comes to rest on Benji’s shoulder. “Why… why did you not talk to me? At any point?”
Benji shrugs.
“It doesn’t matter that much, does it? Besides, you already had other things to tend to, why bother you with this?” Ethan’s hand suddenly tightens its grip on Benji’s shoulder, making him stop his rambling.
“What made you think it wouldn’t matter to me?” the broken whisper makes Benji wince more than a scream would have.
“I…” there is something else in Benji’s eyes. Something subdued and hidden, and it’s not that Ethan can’t recognize it – he just doesn’t dare to. “I really thought Ilsa had told you. And I… I mean, everything is okay now, we’re all fine, so… it’s not that important”.
“Benji, how can you say that, you… you almost died…”
“Do I need to remind you which one of us had actually died on a mission before?”
“And would you say it was not important?”
“Of course I wouldn’t! But that’s because I-” Benji stops himself and shakes his head, “That’s because you had died, and I wouldn’t…” he stops himself again. “It’s different”.
“Benji, look at me,” Ethan’s voice is hollow and hoarse. “Please”.
Benji raises he head, his blue eyes shining and watery. Ethan barely even realizes as his hand rests on Benji’s cheek. He’s about to remove it, but notices that Benji’s reaction is more confused than outright negative. Ethan takes the risk of leaving it where it is.
“Everything that happens to you is important to me, Benji. It matters to me, a lot. You do”.
Benji blinks at him. Ethan allows himself to take him in, cherishing such a short distance between them after months apart. Benji is so close Ethan can feel his warm breath against his own face. This is getting difficult to handle.
“Ethan…” Benji whispers, sending shivers down Ethan’s spine. Ethan suddenly wonders if he’d broken too many boundaries. Before he can say anything or even remove his hand from where it’s still resting on Benji’s cheek, Benji leans in and brushes his lips against Ethan’s. Ethan doesn’t think, doesn’t consciously process anything. He just kisses back, tenderly, slowly, as if Benji is some kind of a phantom that is threatening to melt in the air any moment.
Once they part, both have the same wondering expression on their faces.
“You matter, Benji,” Ethan says in a slightly trembling voice, taking both of Benji’s hands in his. “You matter the most”.
Benji blushes slightly and smiles, and as he does, it makes his eyes shine with that light Ethan had been starving for for months. Ethan simply can’t not kiss him again.
“We matter, Ethan,” Benji whispers once they pull apart. “We matter”.