A/N: Okay, this is by the request from Catfoxy. It is QUITE depressing. So this is the last warning: sadness. And I am sorry if I get you upset…

Disclaimer: I don't own Mission: Impossible.

Too Late

Ethan stood in the doorway, leaning on the wall for support. He was exhausted, the lack of rest catching up with him with full force. His head, however, was completely empty. It was as if he had hit some point at which there had been an overload and his brain had shut down. Perhaps it was a good thing. He would have thought so if he could think at the moment. It felt like he was dreaming. He closed his eyes. Maybe it all was just a dream. A horrific nightmare, and he would soon wake up and it would be over… Voices from inside seemed to be getting louder as he was coming back from his trance. The blissful emptiness was slowly but cruelly leaving his mind, as increasingly painful images replaced it. But he still couldn't and didn't react to them, as if those images were of something that had happened to someone else and not him and his team. He heard footsteps behind him but didn't turn back, fully aware of who it was. They stood like that for solid hours as it felt. It could have been just a few minutes though. Ethan didn't know and didn't care.

"What took you so long?" Brandt's voice was barely audible, matching the team leader's level of exhaustion. It was hoarse and expressionless, as if all the emotion had been drained from the analyst.

Ethan didn't reply. He was sure Brandt didn't really need an answer. He knew the plan. He knew what went wrong.

"What. Took. You. So. Long?" the analyst repeated, more just to set free of his anger than to actually ask a question. Ethan turned to look at him.

Brandt's clothes were all soaked in blood, and his hands were painted with it, too. He seemed not to notice all the precious liquid covering him. He gave the impression that he was unsteady on his legs, shaking slightly as if in fever. His face was wet and his eyes were red and puffy. However, there were no tears falling now.

Jane was standing next to the analyst, all covered in blood, seemingly even more so than Brandt was. She avoided looking at either of her teammates, as her eyes were turned up and slightly to the side. She didn't produce a sound, however tears were running freely, leaving wet traces on her face.

Ethan opened his mouth as if to speak but had no idea what to say. He looked down again. Sudden noises from Jane as she started sobbing more audibly made him look up again, only to see stretchers being wheeled away. All the bodies on them were covered completely so that they couldn't tell who was where. Somewhere among all those Evans' goons was their friend, not separated in any way from those who had murdered him. At first it seemed offensive. However, the more Ethan thought about it, the less it seemed to matter. After all, they weren't goons anymore. It's the mind that makes us who we are. Same as there was no Benji anymore…

The last thought was like a sudden punch to the gut. The feeling of reality fell on Ethan Hunt all at once. His vision became blurry and soon hot tears were escaping his eyes. He wondered what would have happened if he hadn't stayed at Evans' HQ to check if the work had been done. Would he be able to arrive in time? Would Benji have survived if Ethan had been a little bit faster? He knew there was no use in all those questions now but they were crashing him under their weight.

"He tried to fight, you know," Brandt continued his attack. "He waited for you to come. He hoped you would come".

Ethan was staring at the analyst, his eyes screaming "Don't!" but Brandt ignored the silent plea.

"He tried to hold on for as long as possible," William ignored Jane's hand on his shoulder. "Hoping to see you coming with help. And instead he just lay there dying slowly and painfully..." His voice broke at the last words as a lump in his throat didn't let him continue.

He shook Jane's hand off and walked away without turning back. In his own mind he had his own agonizing image. Just as he had opened his eyes after Benji's hand had gone completely limp in his, right at the moment of the team leader's arrival with reinforcements, he was met with the most haunting sight. Benji's head was turned in his direction, his eyes half-open and empty. A trace of a single tear could still be visible, going from his eye and down to the floor. It looked like he had tried to share one last glance with Brandt, to look him in the eye once again but the analyst had missed it, being too scared to open his eyes. He had tried to say goodbye and Brandt hadn't let him.

Ethan covered his face with his hands.

"He didn't mean that," he heard Jane speak at last.

"But it's true," the team leader managed to utter.

"There was nothing you could do," she cut him off. "And I know Brandt realizes it. It was not your fault".

She put her arm around Ethan's shoulders. He still kept his head down, unable to get rid of the image he had seen after storming into that room.

"Look, by some weird twist of fate we all ended up on the same team. We had our differences sometimes but it just happens. Together we had gone through more than even armies do. We have faced the end of the world. And we defeated it together. We must stick together. That's our strength. Benji would be really upset if he found out that we had fallen apart like this".

Ethan just nodded. It was a rare moment when he felt like a little boy, completely helpless and ready to believe any soothing word he heard.

"So, are we going after Brandt?" she asked after a few seconds of silence.

"Let's give him some time. If he doesn't call in a few hours, we'll contact him," Ethan was surprised he could still talk like this, thoughtfully and without nonsense.

Jane nodded. That was the team leader they needed. Getting over what had happened would take time but the support of each other was even more crucial…