Chapter Text
Present times.
Ethan doesn’t usually make it a habit to eat with the new agents—he used to, once, when Lindsey was still alive, but he’d lost track of it soon enough, too burdened by her death to bother anymore.
Today was different, though. His team was scattered, either far from the US, busied by missions, or simply out for lunch with other colleagues or friends. And it’s not like he minds eating alone, figures, it’s just that one of the younger-ish agents had seen him enter the canteen and waved him to come by, so he’d just…obliged. Would’ve felt kind of asshole-ish, not to. And he was not, by any means, a rude person.
“It’s the almighty Ethan Hunt !” the first man smiles, making room for him and his tray to sit, “hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”
“Hardly,” Ethan replies courteously, “I was about to bring the food back to my office, anyway.”
“It’s an honour,” another woman says, “we’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Is that so ?”
“Well, yeah,” she grins, “you’re kind of a legend in the field, you know.” She pauses slightly, extending her hand, “we were friends of Lindsey,” she adds, barely more contrite. “She talked highly of you. Siobhan O’Connor, by the way.”
“Oh—right, my bad,” the first man grimaces, wiping his hands on his jeans, “Mark Leclerc. I know it’s been a while, but we’ve never properly met and thanked you for taking such good care of Linds.”
“Not that good,” Ethan mutters a little darkly, “not enough, at least.”
“You did what you could,” Mark offers, “she doesn’t hold a grudge, I’m sure.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
There’s a silence around the table, but it doesn’t seem to bother the older man. He digs in his wrap without real hunger, stomach still twisting from hearing about Lindsey. What happened, happened. There should be no need to go back to it. Only regrets would bloom from too much reminiscing.
“Say,” Siobhan then says, dabbing at her mouth, “talking about legends, d’you know what happened about our very own ?”
That makes Ethan frown.
“Oh, you mean…him ?” Mark asks, pointedly, “I dunno. Heard he went off to do his own stuff after passing the field exam.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Yuh. Never quite liked him, but he was imposing enough. Brr, il me fout les miquettes,” he shivers exaggeratedly, “I don’t miss him.”
“Sorry,” the other man interrupts, “who’s that about ?”
“Oh,” a shrug, “another trainee. He started training after us, finished it before. A real war machine, if you ask me. Also, a big fan of getting angry. He used to get real mad at the instructors, when he wasn’t too busy asking when lunch was.”
“Really,” Ethan blinks, interest suddenly piqued, “he sounds…like quite the guy. How come he passed the field exam so quick ?”
“He was the best of us,” Siobhan says, like it was a general truth no one should ever question. “Marksmanship, comms, one-on-one hand combat, cold weapons, you name it. He wasn’t, like, undefeated, but he stood out from the rest of us. He wasn’t the biggest fan of smiling, either. I talked to him a few times, we kind of bonded during a team exercise, he wasn’t like, mean. Just cold, I guess.”
“He could drop kick you and strangle you without ever changing his facial expressions,” Mark adds, “he got the work done no questions asked, is what I mean, I guess. Can’t really blame him, he got out in the field quicker than us.”
“That’s crazy,” the older agent breathes out, leaving his wrap to dry on his tray, “I’ve never heard of him. Well,” he sighs, “I haven’t checked on the trainees in a while, so that’s not surprising. Who was it ?”
“No idea, man. We don’t call other trainees by their names, just codenames, or our numbers.”
“Right, shit. I forgot about that.”
“Yeah. I was 0052, Shiv was Roye.”
“And that other guy ?”
“Midas,” Siobhan tells him, laying her hands flat on the cold table. “Reckon it was because he was so skilled with his ten fingers. Everything he did basically turned—into gold. Honestly ! It was frustrating. He mastered stuff and we were there, struggling, I mean…and he looked at us like we were below him, can you believe ?! So annoying.”
“That’s quite a…an interesting codename,” Ethan notes, raising an eyebrow. “Midas, huh.”
“He was this tall-ish blond guy, blue eyes, he was little pudgy at first, and then he got, like, real skinny. I’ll admit, I had a bit of a crush on him.”
“Shiv !”
“What ! It’s true, he was hot. Not much hair on his head, though.”
“That sounds like someone I knew,” Ethan laughs, “I doubt it’s the same person, though. Mine’s all sunshine and laughter.”
“You can always ask Secretary Hunley if he wants to disclose his name to you,” Mark offers with a shrug, “if it’s you, maybe he’ll say yes.”
“I doubt that, but thanks for believing in me so much,” he snorts, getting back up. “Nice catching up. Be careful out there, and good luck.”
“Thanks !”
“Bye Ethan ! Nice talking to you !”
He smiles at them one last time, nodding briefly to them before stepping out of the room, food long abandoned.
He makes his way back to the tenth floor, where his team’s offices were seated, half-expecting to find them empty still. Benji’s there, though, feet on his desk, his back to him.
He wasn’t wearing headphones, so he’d probably hear him come by.
“Hey,” Ethan calls out amicably, waving to his friend, walking up to him, “what’s up ? Didn’t know you were so soon back from Jordan ?”
“Well, if you didn’t miss me this much, I can always go back,” the other man jokes, turning to face him, nose scrunched as he was busy solving a Rubik's Cube, fingers moving swiftly around the coloured squares, and Ethan’s eyes briefly linger on them, oddly attracted to the movement. “But, ah, no, I’m back. The mission wasn’t too complicated, it was basically a milk run. I actually finished a week ago, but I stayed to do some tourism. Our intel there took me to see Petra, the view was gorgeous. And I guess the tombs were fine, too.”
“Huh,” Ethan dumbly replies, “you mean…”
“Oh shit—it’s a joke, E, I didn’t flirt with our intel,” Benji panickedly says, throwing his cube over his shoulder, finally solved, “I mean, I didn’t do it that much.” Pause. “I’m kidding ! I would never. I mean—“
“Hey, it’s okay, huh, it’s fine. You do you, Benji.”
“You look troubled,” Benji notes suddenly, cocking his head to the side, eyes scanning his entire body. “You’re tense.”
“Am I ?”
“Mm-mm. And don’t try to hide it, because I know you, mate.”
Ethan sighs deeply before settling on his friend’s desk, pushing aside a few papers and a pen to properly sit. He runs a hand through his hair, not missing how the other’s eyes seemed to follow him perfectly.
When did they get so piercing ?
“I met with some new agents at lunch.”
“How fun.”
“Be nice,” he grins, throwing him a small ball of paper, “no, it’s just, they mentioned a trainee they worked with, and now I’m curious.”
“A trainee ?” Benji asks, “wonder what they said about him. Who were they ?”
“Huh—Leclerc and O’Connor.”
“Never heard of them.”
“Roye and 0052.”
Another shrug.
“Well, anyway,” he groans, scratching at his temple, “they said that this guy, he was a freakshow.”
“Oh ouch, I wouldn’t have liked to be him.”
“Said he was called Midas,” Ethan specifies, and he can swear he sees Benji tense up at his words. “Apparently he graduated top of his promotion.”
“Is that so ? Where is he now ?”
“No idea,” the other sighs, “that’s what I want to know.”
“Well, don’t torture your pretty head,” Benji smiles, “I’m sure Hunley will tell you, if you ask.”
“Hey, what’s up with you guys and Hunley ? He doesn’t like me that much.”
“He surely likes you more than me, more so after the stunts I’ve pulled in Jordan !” his friend offers with a grin.
“Benji…what did you you ? You said it was a milkrun !”
“Huh, yeah. That doesn’t mean we didn’t have casualties.”
“Jesus, Benji !”
“Oh my God, it’s fine ! It’s fine. Can we talk about something else ?”
There’s a silence, Ethan seeming to balance out the options in front of him. Finally he says—
“Will you help me ?”
“Darling, of course. Just ask, and I’ll do it.”
“Really ?”
“No, duh. Not before knowing what you expect from me, at least.”
“Christ,” Ethan complains, slowly laying back on the table, “okay, fine. Will you help me find out who Midas is ?”
“Huh.”
“What’s that ?”
“That took me by surprise, I guess,” Benji offers. “But you know what, sure,” he shrugs. “Why do you care so much, anyway ?”
“He sounds interesting.”
“Huh, yeah, to your standards. But whatever, sure, I’ll help.”
Ethan practically beams at this, holding his friend’s hands in his, greatly thankful.
“You’re the best.”
“Whatever you say, E,” the other man snorts, “but before that, I have reports to finish.”
“Oh ! Sure, of course. I’ll leave you to it.”
“Thanks. Grab a cuppa in the afternoon ?”
Ethan’s smile gets ten times more bright.
“With pleasure.”
He skips out of Benji's office, hands in pockets and chest lighter. Benji, on the other hand, frantically reaches out for his phone, typing in Hunley’s email as quickly as his trembling hands manage.
From : FA Benjamin Dunn
To : Head Secretary Alan Hunley
Object : midas
ethan wants to know about midas. Dont let him access the files, please. Thx
best
BD
He sends it with a deep groan, his head falling in his hands as soon as his friend leaves his field of vision.
Fucking Leclerc and O’Connor. They should’ve been sent to Antarctica for this shit. They weren’t all that anyway.
No, he mentally reprimands himself, don’t talk about them like that, Dun. Not nice.
Whatever. In all those years post field exam he hadn’t seen them again, and he hopes that it stays that way. Would they recognise him ? Probably.
Ugh.
He leans back into his chair, eyeing the pile of paperwork waiting for him. Serves him right for having killed ten terrorists during his mission. Sometimes he envied Ethan, who only seemed to kill when necessary.
He wasn’t like that, he tended to have less patience with the enemy, and it often resulted in him shooting straight in their heads after he’d collected the information needed.
Maybe he could nap for a bit before diving into work.
Maybe a bit of sleep would be nice…
Before he knows it, he’s passed out cold on his desk.
There was something highly attractive about the man Benji was becoming, Ethank thinks, looking carefully at the man from his own office. There was something about the cotton shirts, the silk ties and the bespoke suits that did things to me. That and the earrings, and the long, beautiful, wavy hair. How he wishes he could tuck one of Benji’s curls behind his ear.
No, there was definitely something that was happening to his friend.
But what, exactly ?
And how could he justify feeling that flustered around him ? Surely people would start to find out, and they’d laugh. Because isn’t it ridiculous, to be so smitten for someone who didn’t share his affections ? As far as Ethan was concerned, Benji loved him, yes, as a best friend. Hell, maybe Brandt was his actual best friend.
God, he thinks, trying to focus on the screen in front of him, he hates feeling so helpless. And now there was this Midas guy, who was definitely going to haunt his nights.
He could probably easily access the files by asking Benji to hack it, and he’d said he’d help, so hey, that should be said and done quickly, right ? Still, he can’t help but think back at how uneasy his friend had looked, when he’d mentioned the trainee. Could he be that they knew each other ?
Worse, could he be Midas ? It’s not like he hadn’t been a pudgy blue eyed blond, right ?
Right ?
I shouldn’t be focusing on this, he grumbles to himself, taking a pen in one hand and the computer’s mouse in the other, I have work to do.
The faceless Midas stares right back at him, and he can’t tear his gaze from him, almost transfixed. It’s like nothing else matters but this, but who the man could be.
God.
Maybe he should try and ask Hunley.
Some years ago.
The room was wide, and full of loud and blabbering people. He already hated it, and he wished he could leave, but needs must. If he wanted out of his shitty shared open space with the other technicians, he’d have to prove himself.
“FIRST THING !” the instructor, a man that seemed almost seven feet tall and with a loud booming voice says, “IS THAT YOU ALL SHOULD FORGET WHO YOU ARE. YOU’RE NOTHING BUT NUMBERS, UNTIL YOU MAYBE GET THE OPPORTUNITY OF BEING PROMOTED TO HAVING A CODENAME. YOU !” he screams then, pointing at a woman in the crowd, “STATE YOUR NUMBER !”
“0077, sir !” she yells back, hands clasped behind her back, looking perfectly terrorised.
“GOOD. YOU !”
And that makes Benji startle, then sigh, because if there was something he disliked, it was being taken by surprise.
“Sir,” he replies evenly, not letting emotion betray his surprise.
“Ah ! A Brit, I hear,” the instructor notes, a smile curling his mouth hideously, “what an honour. Where are you from ?”
“London, sir.”
“I see. Made all this way here to become a field agent, huh ?”
“Sure, sir.”
“Give me your number !”
“0068, sir.”
“Good. All in formation. Pair in two.”
They all move at the same time, Benji ending up with a man barely smaller than him, with his hair tied in a messy ponytail and dark eyes, and a thin frame. What a fucking jackpot.
“Hey, what’s up, I’m And—”
“We’re not supposed to give our names,” he cuts him off harshly.
A pause.
“Oh, right. Sorry,” Andrew, he guesses, eagerly replies. “I’m 0135.”
“0068.”
“Yeah, I know, Agent Cartz just—hum. Whatever. So, what motivated you to come here and pass the field exam ?”
“Boredom,” he replies, and that’s a half-lie. Sure, he really wanted to be by Ethan’s side, work with him again, but he also could not take anymore of his gloomy open space. “I guess.”
“Wow,” Andrew breathes, “that’s impressive.”
“Ah. Is it, now.”
“Yeah, I mean…I’ve been working all my life for this moment. Well not—not all my life, but like, for the past four years when I was employed here, I really…well, I wanted to be good enough, you know ?”
“Right.”
“So it’s kind of crazy that you’re only here out of boredom. I mean—have you—have you prepared ?”
Benji can feel his annoyance grow bigger and bigger with every new word the man utters, but to his credit, he’s an absolute prince about it, and tries not to let it show too much.
“D’you think you’ll make it through ?” Andrew asks again, smiling slightly, “it’s a tough exam.”
“I guess time will tell,” he curtly replies, then stops looking at him altogether.
There’s a vague movement to his left, and suddenly a woman, taller than 0135, seems to join the three of them, her clear grey eyes setting on Benji.
“Sorry,” she starts, visibly contrite, “we’re an uneven number. Mind if I join you ?”
“Sure, welcome among us ! I’m 0135 !”
“Hey. I’m 0087.”
She stares blankly at Benji.
“What ?”
“Nothing,” she retreats slightly, “you just, hum. You haven’t presented yourself.”
A beat.
“0068.”
Nothing more, nothing less. He can feel the migraine pumping at the back of his brain.
“Alright. Well, nice to meet you, 0068.”
“Sure.”
“Not very talkative,” she laughs lightly, bumping Andrew’s arm. “Well, whatever.”
“WE’RE GOING TO START WITH SOME RUNNING AROUND ! MAKE SURE TO STICK WITH YOUR TEAMS,” Cartz yells at them, and Benji slightly winces, which the woman seems to notice. “WE WILL START WITH THE ONE-MILE RUN EVENT ON THE 1-1-1 PHYSICAL FITNESS ASSESSMENT. YOUR ONE-MILE RUN TIME WILL BE USED TO DETERMINE YOUR PLACEMENT IN EITHER THE WALK-TO-RUN PROGRAM, OR THE THREE RUNNING ABILITY GROUPS, NAMELY A, B, OR C.”
“Oh, I heard about that,” Andrew grimaces, “if they’re keeping Army-like times, we have to run the mile in less than 7 minutes to be in the first group, or more than 8.30min for us to be in group C.”
“You mean, men ?” 0087 asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Ah…yes. I don’t know the times for women, I’m sorry…”
“I’m messing with you,” she laughs, clapping on his back. “They’ll probably—oh, look, they’re handing out booklets.”
“THESE PAGES WILL GIVE YOU A RUNDOWN OF ALL THE PHYSICAL EXERCISES REQUIRED AND ASSESSED ALONG THE WAY OF YOUR TRAINING,” the instructor, almost on cue, blows out. “READ THEM, AND CAREFULLY KEEP IT.”
“You’ll need to run it in at least 8.31min for you to be in group A,” Benji then tells his teammate, lips pursed. “And in 10.30min if you end up in group C.”
“That doesn’t sound too hard,” she smiles, “I can try the A.”
“Good for you, I suppose.”
He keeps on idly browsing the booklet, not too fond of all the physical exercises required—what the fuck a back bridge, anyway ? but his mind is a million kilometres away from the actual event.
It doesn’t stress him out, really. He knows he can run the mile in 6.10min, 5.40 if he really sprints at the end of it. All that workout those past few months really did pay off, and he’d discovered in himself a long lost athletic inclination.
Turns out he could run really, really fast. At a pace of around 20km/h, actually. It had come as a shock to him, because he’d never really actually tried that many sports apart from golfing, fencing and horse riding when he was still in London, and none of those called for either his sprinting speed or endurance.
No, Benjamin Dunn was not thinking about any of this, he was actually wondering where Ethan could be. He had not seen him in almost two years, after the whole Rabbit's foot and China incident, he’d gone off to do his own missions, and no one was the wiser.
He’d quite enjoy being around him again. He’d grown fond of the man. Now, was it love per se ? Probably not. He was admirative, for sure, but that was the end of it.
Really, he missed Ethan Hunt, that brilliant, insane man who somehow had put his entire life in Benji’s hands, more than once.
He knew a bond was formed between them, but he couldn’t say what exactly, nor the extent of it. It was just…there. Time would only tell.
“—t. Eight. Hey, 68 !”
Benji’s head snapped up, his oddly coloured eyes meeting with the deep grey of the woman's. He wets his lips.
“Sorry, I was…just…thinking.”
“Well, the run’s about to start. Did you review the route ?”
“No,” he grimaces, “I’ll just follow the leaders of the run. I won’t be up there, so there’s no need for me to really focus on it.”
The woman eyes him up oddly, as if he’d just said something utterly stupid.
“Alright. See you on the finish line, then.”
“Sure.”
“Guys,” Andrew calls out happily, “it’s starting soon !”
When the gun explodes, Benji stops wondering about Ethan’s whereabouts.
All he thinks about is winning.