Mission Impossible x The White Queen Modern AU Crossover
Title: Unfinished Business
Notes: I do not own any aspects of Mission Impossible or The White Queen. I'm sure you can't own dead historical British royalties either. All copyrights go to their respective companies and entities. All OCs, thoughts, and musings, when not quoted, are mine. Character Deaths Warning
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They found her in a quaint little town in Flanders, living in a restored windmill above her dance studio. She had been out of the intelligence game for nearly a year now, ever since she had left Ethan Hunt and the IMF in an abandoned parking lot in London. She was starting to live again instead of just surviving, because that was all she was doing the last few years of her career, fighting to survive as she infiltrated the Syndicate. She didn't know what she felt, except for maybe a little resentment that her simple life was coming to an end, when she spotted Benji Dunn, William Brandt, and Luther Stickell by the entrance as she dismissed her last class for the day.
"Ilsa, it's been a while," Benji greeted her when it was just the four of them.
She nodded at her unexpected visitors. "What can I do for you gentlemen?" she asked frankly.
"Ethan needs your help," said Brandt without preamble.
She remained silent, only raising an eyebrow at his statement.
"What Brandt is trying to say is that Solomon Lane has managed to escape and we lost contact with Ethan," elaborated Benji. "We want you to join our team and help us find them. All your years undercover with them means that you're the only person we have who knows Lane and the Syndicate best."
When she hesitated to provide them with an answer, Stickell stepped forward menacingly. His tall frame towered over her as he crossed his bulging arms. "Consider it you returning our favor for London." His tone left no room for argument.
xx
She had already made up her mind to help Ethan without Stickell's insistence. While she had no romantic feelings for the man - she had sworn never to fall in love again after the last time - she saw a kindred spirit in Ethan, and if he needed her help, she didn't mind lending it.
She wrapped up her quiet life in Flanders with such an ease that left her feeling bereaved and despondent. She had no close defining connection to anyone even after living there for nearly a year, and her absence was explained away with a flimsy excuse with no one the wiser. The windmill was hers so she didn't have to worry about paying rent or anything like that while she was away. She only had to lock up her living quarters and leave the lower levels open for her business partner and fellow dance instructor to keep their studio running. Maggie was happy enough to take over all her classes.
Less than twenty-four hours after the three stooges showed up at her door, her bags were packed and she was on a plane back to her old life of espionage and danger. "Why are we heading to Venezuela?" she asked.
"Last place we had contact with Ethan," said Stickell. The laptop in front of him continued to run its facial recognition software, searching for Ethan and Lane. There was another face on the screen, a man with long, wavy, dark hair down to around his neck and a tall, crooked nose, smirking without a care in the world.
"What exactly happened?" she asked.
The three of IMF agents traded a look, likely silently electing Benji as the designated spokesman since he was the most familiar with her from their last run-in.
"MI6 took custody of Lane after we caught him since he was one of yours. Last week, one of his men, Richard Neville, nicknamed the Kingmaker" - Benji tapped on the photo of the third man on Stickell's laptop screen - "broke into a secure MI6 site and freed Lane. Neville was also former MI6. His specialty was toppling rival regimes in South America in favor for whoever MI6 and later Lane backed; hence his nickname.
We believed they're held up somewhere in Venezuela, the Kingmaker's newest stronghold. MI6 sent a team of their best after Lane and Neville, but Ethan refused to stand by. Lane's personal for him. Ethan went after them and we lost contact with him three days ago. MI6 also lost contact with their three agents as well so unfortunately, we're going in blind."
"I've only heard of the Kingmaker in passing when I was with MI6 and then undercover in the Syndicate," she said. "But I've never made contact with him. If it's information you want from me, I won't be able to provide any."
Brandt took a sip from his coffee mug. "You were undercover in the Syndicate for years. Surely you can do better than that."
"My priority was Lane, not the Kingmaker."
"Regardless," interrupted Benji, "we'll need you backing us when we run into Lane and Neville. Since we're missing Ethan, I thought your complementary skill sets might do. Although, you're former MI6, and that seemed to be the recurring theme." His face twisted up in thought.
She sat back in her seat and crossed her legs. Her hands tightened around the coffee mug she was holding. "I don't have to be here," she said through clenched teeth.
"All right, all right!" Benji held up his hands in surrender. "No more snarky remarks from me. Can't promise you anything about those two." He jerked his thumbs in Brandt and Stickell's directions.
Ping! The sound from Stickell's laptop stopped the bantering faster than a speeding bullet. "Got him!"
xxxxxx
Less than twenty-four hours ago, one of MI6 most secure buildings was breached, and one of their most notorious prisoners was freed. Since then, it had been one shitstorm after another, and he was pulled right into the middle of it all. He and his team were sent after Solomon Lane and Richard Neville when it became apparent that his one-time teammate was behind Lane's escape. With the tally of former-MI6-agents-turned-rogue up to two, there was a general sense of paranoia in the agency that was not unwarranted. There must be at least one more traitor in their midst. How else could Neville have breached their security so easily?
They landed on a private airstrip in Venezuela a few hours after Lane and Neville, hot on the fugitives' trail. He was not entirely surprised to see IMF agent Ethan Hunt waiting for them when they landed. He had expected the American to come running as soon as news of Lane's escape broke, knowing it was a personal case for Hunt.
"Ahh, Ethan Hunt," Edward greeted as he shook the American's hand. He could see the slightly raised arch of Hunt's brows behind his tinted aviator sunglasses.
"You don't seem surprised to see me, Agent York," said Hunt.
He shrugged at Hunt's statement. "I figured we'd run into you on this little hunt for Lane sooner or later, given your history. Richard Gloucester, George Clarence." He gestured at his teammates to finish the introduction, though he was sure that Hunt had already looked into them.
Hunt nodded as he took off his sunglasses and hung them from the collar of his shirt. "Lane and Neville are hunkering down in Neville's sea-side fortress about twenty miles from here," he informed them.
"MI6 has a safe house not too far away. We regroup there and figure out a plan of attack," said Edward as he got into the driver's seat of a nearby black sedan prepped for his team. "You need a ride?"
Hunt gestured at an inconspicuous used motorcycle parked a couple vehicles away. "I'm good. Just lead the way."
The drive to their safe house was quiet aside from the clicking sound from George's phone. "Anything to share with the group, George?" asked Edward as he glanced in the rear view mirror at his unusually quiet teammate.
Richard in the passenger seat beside him also turned around to look at George at Edward's question.
"No, no, nothing to share," said George as he stowed the device away in his pants pocket. At the insistent stare of Edward and Richard, George ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Izzy's wondering when I'd be home. The baby's due any day now, and I'd promised I would be there. And I still plan to, but this mission has been an unexpected obstacle."
While neither Richard nor Edward had ever met the Mrs. Clarence, they admired George's ability to keep some resemblance of a normal family life outside of work. In their profession, it wasn't always possible to do so. Edward had found the love of his life in his first partner, mixing business and pleasure, and they'd had a wonderful decade-long partnership marred only by her untimely and premature her death. Since then, he'd sworn off love forever and was enjoying the casual hookups that bachelorhood afforded him. Richard, on the other hand, had always kept mum about his love life, though George had mentioned in passing once that there was something between Richard and some estranged daughter of a former teammate the two had had before Edward had joined them.
A sad half smile found its way onto Edward's face as the car lapsed back into silence.
xx
They had decided on a silent and stealthy attack on Neville's fortress. Somehow, their plan went down in smithereens. He was knocked out from behind once they had infiltrated the stronghold. Edward woke up in front of Lane and Neville, completely relieved of all his weapons and bound to a wooden chair. Hunt and Richard were in a similar state on either side of him.
Once his ears stopped ringing and his vision cleared, he saw red when he noticed George standing beside Neville. "Traitor!" he growled as he struggled against his bonds.
"It's nothing personal, man," George said with a shrug. "I'm getting out of this life, and our pensions are not going to provide my baby with a comfortable life."
"You sold us out for chump change!?" Edward continued to struggle against the ropes holding him back from strangling George himself.
"Hardly," said Neville as he handed George a silver colored metal case.
"I can't believe you," Richard spoke for the first time. Edward couldn't imagine what his teammate must be feeling. While he had only been working with Richard and George for the past four years, the other two had been partnered for nearly a decade.
"How do you know you won't be stabbed in back by them." Richard jerked his head at Lane and Neville.
"You know why, Dickon," said George. "Besides, Neville's hardly going to kill the father of his future grandchild."
Edward froze in shock. He was getting whiplash from all the information he was learning about his teammate. It seemed he had never really known George at all. And what did George mean when he said Richard knew why Neville wouldn't betray George?
Edward watched in muted anger and distress as George walked away from them all with his briefcase of money in hand. "Cheers, mates. I've got an appointment that I can't miss."
Edward would have remained in a daze if Richard hadn't chosen the moment when George disappeared to smash the wooden chair he was bound to over Neville's head. Somehow, during the confrontation, Richard had freed himself and had taken the opportunity presented with George's departure to attack.
Bang! Bang! Richard's body was still tremoring from the impact of the bullets as he tumbled onto Neville.
"NOO!"
Neville carelessly pushed the lifeless body off of him and stood up. Brushing wooden chips and blood off his clothes, he glared at Lane. "Really? You could have hit me."
"Would you rather he was still beating you with a chair?" asked Lane nasally.
Edward couldn't take his eyes off of Richard's body even as Lane turned the gun in his hand towards Edward. His heart hurt and his mind blanked. He had lost two brothers in one day; one dead and the other stabbed him in the back.
"Let's get rid of these two and be done with it," said Lane.
xxxxxx
As he observed the scene playing out in front of him, Ethan tried to subtly twist and fray the ropes binding his arms in place. He didn't know how Gloucester had freed himself so easily, but Ethan took advantage of the distraction from the other man's attack to try and wiggle from his own bond. He had managed to twist his arms around so that his palms were facing up, and he could hear the cracking of the wooden arm rests from his flexing efforts.
Bang! Bang!
Ethan unconsciously flinched at the sound. He watched as Gloucester's body fell and as Lane turned his gun on York. Before Lane could kill the man, the ceiling above them shattered, raining broken glasses down on them.
Four armed figures in black tactical gears rappelled down from above, like avenging angels from heaven. One of them, a woman, sliced Lane's arm as she came down hard on him, forcing him to drop his gun. In rapid motions, a dagger from each of her hand slammed into either side of Lane's head. She twisted the daggers into his head for good measure before pulling them free. Even before Lane's body had hit the ground, she had spun around and sliced through the ropes binding Ethan and York with her offending daggers.
Another figure, Brandt, had already managed to take out Neville during his descent. The resounding crash from the glass ceiling shattering had brought Neville's men to the study. A storm of bullets flew into the room. Brandt and Luther fired continuously towards the entrance, providing cover fire as Ilsa and Benji cut through the rest of the ropes binding Ethan and York.
Ilsa pressed a gun into his hands once he was freed, and from the corner of his eyes, Ethan could see Benji did the same to York. They wordlessly crouched low for cover and spread out on either side of the entrance.
At his signal, Brandt and Luther ceased fire. The sound of bullet casings clattering to the floor stopped resonating in the air and the smoke from the shooting began to clear.
Creak. Creak.
Ethan held up his hand, signaling his people to hold their position.
The black barrel of a gun appeared through the study door. Then a hand and slowly a body followed. Another man followed the first.
Ethan leaned out from behind the desk he was using as cover and started shooting. The rest of his team followed suit. Neville's men didn't stand a chance.
Finally, the fire fight stopped. Ilsa, Brandt, and Luther left to clear the rest of the fortress. At the same time, York, Benji, and Ethan doubled check the pulses of the bodies littering the study and its entrance.
"Rest of the compound's cleared," said Luther when he returned with Brandt and Ilsa. "We need to call in the clean up crew, though."
Ethan nodded a thanks towards his IMF teammates. He knew they had always had his back. He repeated his thanks to Ilsa. "Thank you." He had not expect to see her again after London...he wondered if she still remembered her offer for them to run away together…
"My pleasure," she replied with a shrug.
xxxxxx
It was over. He knelt beside Richard's body, uncaring of the broken glass shards cutting into his pants and then his hands as he brushed them off Richard to turn his brother-in-arm's body over. He placed a hand over Richard's unmoving chest, willing the lifeless heart beneath to start pumping again, but it was too late. It was too late.
He was unaware of any sound or time as he knelt beside Richard.
"My pleasure."
Her voice broke through the bubble he was in. - No, it wasn't possible. He had lost her four years ago. - But, that was her voice, without a doubt! He would know it anywhere. He had heard it full of command, sorrow, anguish, and joy. He remembered the way she would whispered his name and her love for him like a treasured secret, the way she would screamed his name in ecstasy. Her beautiful laughter had plagued his memory every day, like a siren calling to him again and again.
He thought his mind was playing tricks on him when he turned to look at her. That couldn't be her. The woman in front of him was a little thinner than the woman he remembered. Her hair was the color of the earth, dark brown with a touch of chestnut red, not the golden rays of sunlight that he remembered.
But those eyes..those deep blue eyes…
He wasn't even aware that he had stood up and gravitated towards her. "Elizabeth?" His voice broken on the last syllable.
She turned towards him at the sound of her name...her name. Her hand fell from Hunt's. Her face paled as if she'd seen a ghost. She blinked as if she couldn't believe her eyes. "Ed-Edward? You're - you're alive?"
She took a step towards him and hesitantly placed her hand on his chest over his heart. He could feel the warmth of her palm through his shirt, kissing his skin.
"Atlee said that you were dead, kil-killed in action. He sent me undercover right afterward. I couldn't even attend your funeral-if there ever was one." Her voice was hoarse and disbelieving.
He cupped her cheek, wiping the tears at the corner of her eye with his thumb. "Atlee told me you were killed in action. I accessed your file and it said the same thing." The former Chief of Secret Intelligence Service had lied to them and used them.
"For my undercover assignment," she explained. "I became Ilsa Faust to infiltrate the Syndicate. You're alive," she repeated again as she let out a teary laugh.
xx
The subsequent events seemed inconsequential to Edward now that he had Elizabeth again. A CIA team stationed nearby was called in to clean up the mess in Neville's fortress. Ethan Hunt and the rest of his team bid Edward and Elizabeth farewell as the IMF agents headed back to the States, their business with Lane over. The bodies of Richard, Lane, and Neville were brought back to London. He attended Richard's memorial ceremony and didn't say anything about George to MI6 because Edward understood George's willingness to do anything and everything for the people he loved now that he was reunited with Elizabeth.
He turned in his resignation papers and followed the love of his life to a quiet, little town in Flanders, secretly surprise and pleased that she'd remembered their once wistful dream of a quiet life together there.
xxxxxx
Ever since they found each other again, she and Edward were rarely out of each other's sight. When they finally returned to her safe, little, remodeled windmill, they spent the next two days rekindling their love and relearning each other's bodies. She hummed in content as Edward made it his personal mission to show her that he hadn't forgotten a single thing about her body.
It had long since past midnight when Edward stretched, his back cracking a little as he sat up from her bed. She took the opportunity to admire his naked back, tracing the scars on it with her fingers. There were a few new ones she noted.
Edward scratched his head and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "We are not young any more," he began.
She let out a small chuckle as her fingers continued to dance along his back. "Have I worn you out?"
"We are not those two people who met on the side of the road," he continued. "They are gone."
Edward was looking back at her but she couldn't look at him any more. Her eyes found the opposite corner of the room instead. Her mind blanked and her heart became overwhelmed with pain and panic. Did he no longer love her and was only interested in one last shag? Her hand fell from his back as if it was hot. "Then what remains?"
Her hand didn't move far before it was caught between his. "What remains," he stressed, pausing and waiting for her to look at him again before he continued, "is my love for you. You were what sustained me...and when I thought you dead…" He stopped, unable to finish the thought.
"You were and are my home, Elizabeth."
She smiled at him, unshed tears in her eyes.
He brought her hand that he was still holding up to his lips, giving it a lingering kiss. Their hands remained intertwine and she pulled them to her to kiss the back of Edward's hand as he laid back down next to her.
He finally let go of her hand to put his arms around her and draw her close. She let out a small sigh as she laid on his chest, his heart thumping lively under her watchful ear. She felt him giving her another kiss on her head.
"You, lovely Elizabeth, are the love of my life."
"And you are mine."
xxxxxx
Author's notes: Sorry if the plot and execution were less than stellar. I wrote everything just to set up the last scene. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it. Would appreciate any like, review, comment, etc. Thank you.
Also posted on AO3 and tumblr under same username.