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Benji afforded himself only a brief moment of preparation to steel himself before he dove into the frigid waters, even though he knew it was useless. No amount of preparation would stop the automatic response of his body. When he hit the water, he would gasp, completely involuntarily, and freezing water would begin to flow into his lungs. His heart would begin to race, and he’ll have to constantly fight his body’s urge to hyperventilate.
Knowing what was coming, however, didn’t make the experience any easier. It didn’t stop what felt like thousands of tiny needles piercing his skin, didn’t stop his heart from seizing inside his chest. It was only the sight of Ethan, floating lifelessly in the water, that got Benji to focus and move.
He willed his body to listen to his commands, willed his muscles to cooperate enough to drag Ethan up and out of the water. It seemed to be a Herculean task, impossible with the cold-induced fatigue. But Ethan had always inspired people to do the impossible. Had always inspired Benji to do the impossible. And so he did.
He got Ethan’s head up and above the water as soon as possible, then worked on getting enough of his body on top of the ice to prevent him from sliding back down. Throughout it all, Benji was hyper aware of the time passing. Seconds turning into minutes of Ethan’s brain not receiving any oxygen, of his heart not pumping, and his own brain unhelpfully reminding him that the longer he went without breathing, the higher the likelihood of brain damage.
On shaking limbs, Benji levered himself onto the ice, cursing himself for the multiple attempts it took. Not for the first time, he thanked every deity he could think of for Tapeesa, as she was there already, getting an arm under Ethan’s shoulders, lifting him up and starting to drag him towards the decompression chamber. Benji scrambled to help her and far quicker than it would’ve been on his own, they got Ethan inside. Benji practically flung himself inside and dragged Tapeesea with him.
The space was cramped with the 3 of them in there, but there was nothing for it. As planned and discussed earlier, Benji attached a heart monitor to Ethan’s chest and turned it on.
A moment and then a flat, steady droning.
He gestured to Tapeesa, who immediately began chest compressions. Though the language barrier made things challenging, he’d been able to gather that she was familiar with CPR, and all he needed to do was refresh her on the proper technique. 2 inches deep, 100 beats per minute. He watched, just for a moment, made sure her pace was steady and correct, before getting to work on his side of things.
With quick, practiced movements, he measured and felt around at Ethan’s shoulder to find the right place before sterilizing the skin. Benji willed his own breaths to slow, hands to steady, and ran through the next steps in his head: push the needle through the skin until you hit bone, activate the drill and go until you feel it give, remove the hub, apply dressing, aspirate the marrow, flush with saline, start infusion. With one last deep breath, he got started. As he was working, he could feel Tapeesa watching him, but her compressions never wavered so he opted to ignore it.
He was sure what he was doing seemed impressive to the untrained eye, but Benji had spent weeks upon weeks in as many field medicine classes as he could, as well as practicing the procedures they taught him over and over again on his own time. He studied the textbooks his instructors recommended, he watched dozens upon dozens of videos, he kept his med kit stocked with anything and everything he could think of, all of it allowing him to be able to do something like starting an IO flawlessly without blinking, even as the love of his life lay dying in front of him.
As soon as the saline had gone through, Benji administered the first milligram of epi, then sat back and waited. After 2 minutes, he gestured to Tapeesa to stop. Again, the sound of the flat drone filled the space. He cursed, and quickly maneuvered around to switch with Tapeesa. Again, this was planned. CPR was tiring, and they needed to make sure Ethan was getting proper chest compressions at all costs. The doses for the epi were already prepped and he knew she had watched him do the first round. All she had to do was insert the needle and press down on the plunger.
After another minute, he nodded to Tapeesa and she pushed the second round of epi. He continued chest compressions for another minute, paused, flatline, kept going. He felt the panic begin to creep in once again, but he forced himself to concentrate because all that mattered was Ethan. Ethan living, Ethan breathing, Ethan speaking and smiling and running and Ethan, Ethan, Ethan.
His vision blurred, but that was fine, as long as his hands didn’t stop, as long as he kept Ethan’s heart pumping and pushing air into his lungs. There was a sudden and harsh crack as Benji felt the man’s ribs give way beneath his hands and Benji let out a harsh breath that was more a sob than anything else.
“Fuck,” he whispered, tears now freely falling from his eyes and onto Ethan’s chest. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, love, I’m —“
With a sudden, choked off gasp, Ethan wrenched upwards, body twisting to the side as he began to cough up water. His coughs quickly turned to wheezing and groaning.
“Careful, love, careful. Watch your arm, your ribs.”
“Benji?” Ethan wheezed.
“Yeah. Yeah it’s me, Benji,” he said, his words an unnerving echo of the last time Ethan had drowned. “Ok, ok.”
He barely noticed Tapeesa climbing out of the chamber, and set about getting Ethan settled. He quickly removed the loop of the IO then used the syringe plunger to twist it out, wincing at Ethan’s small noises of pain.
“I know, I know, darling, but it’s out now, you’re alright.” He ran a quick, soothing hand through his hair then put a bandage on the site.
Without warning, Ethan surged upwards, nearly headbutting Benji, and gripped his bicep.
“The podkova! Where— did I— where is—“
“Hey, hey it’s alright, it’s right here. You got it. You got it, Ethan.” He held up the device, still hanging off of Ethan’s body, before lifting it over his head and stashing it with the rest of their supplies. Ethan settled back down, wincing at the pain in his ribs, but he left his hand on Benji’s arm, loosening his grip only a little bit, as if he needed the point of contact.
The chamber was temperature controlled, but Ethan was still in the danger zone for hypothermia. Luckily, he had already been practically naked when Benji pulled him out so he just tugged Ethan’s sopping boxer briefs off and flung them into the corner of the chamber, before doing the same with his own, thankful for his foresight to strip before diving into the water. He turned Ethan onto his side, who pliantly allowed the manhandling now that he knew he had been successful, and plastered himself to the man’s back then wrapped a blanket around both of them. Finally, he rummaged around in one of the small bags they had stashed in the chamber beforehand, grabbing a bottle of water and a packet of ibuprofen.
“Here,” Benji said, uncapping the water and reaching over to put it in Ethan’s trembling hand. “Drink. You’re likely dehydrated.”
Ethan complied, sitting up a bit with Benji steadying him, and drank about a third of the bottle.
“Now these.” And Benji gripped Ethan’s wrist, the one not holding his weight, and shook the ibuprofen tablets into his hand.
“Benji,” Ethan whined, and Benji knew the pain and exhaustion must really be wearing on him.
“I know, darling, but it will help, I promise. Just the pills and then you can rest.” He combed through Ethan’s hair before letting his hand trail down his arm and come to rest at his hip, thumb rubbing gentle circles into his skin.
Ethan swallowed the pills dry, much to Benji’s chagrin, and then let himself collapse back down, exhausted.
“Ethan? Do you know where you are right now?” He tried to keep his tone casual, as casual as he could be, anyway, when asking basic concussion protocol questions to check for brain damage. Not for the first time, Benji made a mental note to seriously look into the new kinds of portable MRIs people were making these days.
“The Sevastopol. Or above it, anyway, near St. Matthew, right?”
“Yes, good. And what year is it?”
Ethan dutifully rattled off the year, exasperation clear in his voice.
“Ok, last question. Who is currently the President of the United States?”
“Erika Sloane. Are we done now?”
Benji pressed a kiss to the back of Ethan’s neck in apology. “Almost,” he said, regretfully. “Within the next hour or so you’re going to start feeling the effects of decompression sickness. It’s going to hurt. A lot. I’m going to keep you on your side. The chamber is doing its job so unfortunately there’s nothing to do but ride it out. But I’ll be here the whole time, alright?”
He didn’t answer with words, just made a small noise of vague agreement. Benji pulled Ethan closer against him, made sure the blanket was securely wrapped around them, and then finally let himself relax. He nosed gently into Ethan’s hair, breathing in deep and reveling in the fact that he was alive.
That had been far too close.
For about an hour, Benji just lay there, face pressed to Ethan’s hair, drinking in the fact that he was here and in his arms. But soon enough, as Benji predicted, he began to move in his sleep, arms and legs trembling and twitching, pained groans leaving his mouth.
With a gasp, Ethan woke, immediately curling in on himself and letting out cries through clenched teeth.
“Ethan. Ethan, hey, hey, you’re alright. I know it hurts, love, I know, I’m here.”
He struggled to keep Ethan’s head up while also making sure his limbs remained bent to relieve some of the pain. Once he got a firm grip, Benji carefully maneuvered them so that he could make sure Ethan stayed in the recovery position for as long as possible. He continued to whisper soothing nothings in Ethan’s ear and stroked his hair whenever he could spare a hand.
Benji remembered when he had first learned about the bends, 4 years earlier on a mission off the southern coast of Malta. It had also involved a deep sea dive, and Benji remembered not being able to sleep the night before. Instead, he spent hours in front of his computer, researching everything he possibly could about decompression sickness: how it occurred, its onset, symptoms, treatment, everything. Ethan had found him like that at 3 AM, completely still except for his eyes darting across the screen and his hand scrolling on the mouse pad. Ethan ran a hand across his shoulders and closed Benji’s laptop. It took a moment for him to even realize what happened.
“Hey!” He cried out, belatedly.
“Come to bed, Benj.” Ethan’s voice was gravely with sleep and he tugged on Benji gently.
Benji resisted for only a moment before he went, but babbled to him the whole walk to the bedroom, going on about about proper descent and ascent rates, safety stops, making sure he drank enough water, and “you know what, maybe I should just come with you. I mean I know I’m not certified but really when have we ever cared about doing things above board and—“
“Benji.” Benji stopped, and realized that Ethan had said his name several times now, and that his shirt was off and trousers halfway unbuttoned. Benji blinked around at the bedroom, and at Ethan who was holding his shirt.
“That’s mine,” he said blankly.
“Benji. Tomorrow will be fine. This isn’t my first rodeo. Or deep sea dive.”
“But you don’t know that,” Benji insisted. “I mean, god Ethan, look at our track record. Our missions always go wrong. We should, we should take more precautions tomorrow or, or—“
“We have everything all planned. We’ve taken plenty of precautions. I know what to do. It will be fine.”
“But how do you know?” Benji whispered desperately.
“Because you’ll be there. You always make sure I’m ok.” He said it so simply, so matter of factly, like he hadn’t just made Benji’s heart stutter to a stop. “If it makes you feel better, you can give me as many reminders as you want tomorrow.”
Benji stared at him for another moment before he shucked his trousers the rest of the way off then tugged Ethan into his arms, tucking the man’s face into his chest. Ethan made a small, surprised “mmph” at the movement, but went willingly.
“You can’t just say things like that,” he said quietly, his eyes squeezed shut, cheek pressed hard to the top of Ethan’s head.
“But it’s true,” Ethan mumbled.
Benji chuckled, breathlessly.
“Ok. Ok, love. You need to go back to sleep.”
“Mm. You too.”
“Yeah. Me too, I promise.”
“Love you,” Ethan muttered before he dropped off to sleep.
“Love you, too.”
The mission had actually ended up going smoothly for once, and Ethan had had the time to do a proper descent and ascent.
He still cherished what he had learned though, especially now as he held Ethan, doing everything possible to mitigate his pain. Sometimes he thought that everything he had learned in his life, both before and after joining the IMF, he’d learned so that he could keep Ethan Hunt alive. His skills with a computer, with machines, the dozens of field medicine classes he’d taken, he’d learned to drive every kind of car, boats, even planes, all of it for Ethan. To help him complete the mission, yes, but more importantly to make sure he survived the mission. To make sure he had time to eat and sleep, to take even one responsibility off his plate and lessen the burden.
There was something within him that changed that day that Ethan called him from Shanghai, like he had carved his name into Benji’s ribs with his plea for help and the quick “I owe you” at the end of the call. After Dubai and Mumbai, their countless missions together, after London and Lane, Ethan had made his way into Benji’s very marrow. His utterly unfailing goodness and capacity for love made its way into the tissue of his heart. And now there wasn’t a single cell in his body that wouldn’t whither away if he ever lost Ethan.
These thoughts kept him occupied as he held Ethan and murmured into his ear, voice pitched low and soothing. He ran his hand through the other agent’s hair, his other hand rubbing up and down Ethan’s arm.
Slowly but surely the spasms and cries of pain petered out, until he was just trembling and drawing in shaky breaths.
“Benji,” he muttered quietly, his voice weak.
“Yeah, love?” At the sound of his voice, Ethan turned around so that he was now facing Benji. His skin was pale and there were dark shadows under his eyes. Benji could practically see the bone-deep exhaustion weighing heavily upon him, the slow blinks as he studied Benji and tried to stay awake. After a few moments of careful inspection, Ethan frowned, trembling hand coming up to trace the untreated cut on his face, so gentle and careful that it made Benji want to cry.
“You’re hurt.”
Benji scoffed and intercepted Ethan’s hand with his own, linking their fingers. “Hardly. It’s just a scratch.”
“What happened?”
“Ah, nothing really. The Russians were waiting for us at the SOSUS station and we, er, had a bit of a scuffle.”
Ethan’s frown deepened. “Is everyone alright?”
Benji lifted their hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the back of Ethan’s knuckles.
“We’re all fine. I’ll tell you the full story later. For now, you need to sleep and let your body recover. I’ll wake you up when it’s time, I promise.”
As if all he needed was Benji’s permission, Ethan went boneless against him and Benji shifted them until he was flat on his back with Ethan laying against his chest. One of Benji’s hands stroked through the other agent’s hair, the other idly traced the line of his spine. He watched Ethan’s eyelids finally flutter close and his breaths begin to even out.
Benji allowed himself to relax only after he was sure Ethan was asleep. Unable to help himself, he pressed a kiss to his hair, his temple, his forehead, anywhere he could reach. The relief he felt that Ethan was ok, was whole and alive, was overwhelming. He was dizzy with the euphoria of it and, at least in this moment, untouched by the dread of what was to come.
With Ethan alive, safe, and asleep in his arms, it wasn’t long before Benji dropped off to sleep as well, the exhaustion from the day’s events finally catching up to him.
His sleep was blessedly dreamless, and when he woke, it was to green eyes watching him and a hand on the nape of his neck playing with the ends of his hair, thumb rubbing the spot under his ear.
“Hey,” he said, voice rough.
Ethan smiled, that bright, uncomplicated smile that Benji had fallen in love with the moment he saw it. He couldn’t help but smile back.
“You made it,” Ethan said, voice filled with so much awe and love that Benji had to kiss him. Ethan’s mouth opened underneath his almost immediately, and Benji allowed himself another moment, two, before pulling back and pressing their foreheads together.
“Of course I made it.”
“I knew you would. You always do.”
The urge to ask Ethan to stay, to say to hell with the rest of the world they can figure it out on their own this time, was so strong that he had to squeeze his eyes shut and hold tightly to Ethan’s shoulder. He didn’t want to let him go because if he let him go then he might lose him and if he lost him then what was the point of saving the world. What good is the world without Ethan Hunt in it?
But he didn’t ask. He never would. And Ethan would never say yes even if he did. And that’s why they loved each other.
“Um,” Ethan said, breaking Benji out of his thoughts. He followed Ethan’s gaze up to the viewport, where Tapeesa was watching them and grinning. She waved at them and tapped her wrist and Benji gave her a thumbs up.
“That’s Tapeesa. New friend. And that means the plane’s almost here. Speaking of Tapeesa, you’ve got to let me be the one to introduce you to her husband. I need to see the look on your face.”
“I— what?”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s a good surprise.” He kissed Ethan quickly on the forehead, nose, lips, before sitting up and putting a bag of clothes in the man’s lap.
He was halfway through dressing, had just barely pulled his sweater over his head, when Ethan caught his wrist and tugged him down. He still had the bag of clothes in his lap and had clearly been content with just watching Benji.
“Yes?” He asked patiently, fighting a growing smile. “I figured you’d be chomping at the bit to get going.”
“Yeah, I just— I need—“ and he pulled Benji down even further against him until they were chest to chest, wincing as the movement jostled his ribs.
“Ethan, careful of—“
“I just need this. For a few minutes. Just, just you. My Benji.”
And how could Benji ever deny him that. He wrapped his arms around him and they knelt there for several minutes, basking in each other’s presence.
Ethan pressed a kiss to his neck before whispering in his ear.
“What did you do to my arm? It hurts like hell.”
Benji let out a surprised laugh before answering. “I had to put in an IO. Saved your life, you know.”
“Yeah,” Ethan said. “I know.”