One Mistake

by Liliththestormgoddess

Summary: One mistake. One mistake in all his years in the field, and it was still coming back to haunt him. He'd never expected to see them again…and yet here they were. Both of them.

Warnings: Rated T for mild violence and strong language.

Disclaimer: I don't own Mission:Impossible or these characters, with the exception of the ones you do not recognize.

A/N: My first M:I fanfic. The plot bunny bit me one day and wouldn't let go until I wrote this down. It seems that whenever I decide I'm not going to write in a fandom, I do…

This story is completed, so updates will hopefully be frequent. I wrote this in probably the span of two weeks – which I consider amazing, personally. Usually I start something and it gets finished years later. Somehow I managed to force myself to sit down and keep typing. So I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

William Brandt wasn't surprised the mission was shot to hell. Quite literally, in fact.

He cursed under his breath as he rolled sideways behind another wall, dodging the bullets flying his way. The bad guys were determined to hit him, it seemed. It just was not his day.

Crouching for a moment to take a deep breath, he spun to his left and quickly fired off several fast rounds around the edge of the wall before slamming back to safety a second later. Breathing hard, he smiled with grim satisfaction as he heard at least two men hit the ground, and not as many bullets being popped off.

His moment of peace was interrupted, as a small hand grenade landed not ten feet in front of him. Not wasting another moment, he took off to his right, launching himself off the railing, his momentum propelled by the explosion from where he had been sitting not moments before. Moments later he landed on a semi-cushioned spot consisting of what seemed like backpacks and sleeping bags, but he rolled off and was slinking away to hide behind another shelf before he could look them over.

Trying to catch his breath while coughing on some debris he had managed to swallow, Brandt switched out his magazine for a new one in his gun. He then leaned back and listened intently for any sounds to let him know if he was still being pursued. The only sounds he heard, however, was the crackling and shouting in his earpiece.

"What the hell was that!" That sounded like Ethan.

"Somebody blew the bloody fourth floor up! Where the bloody hell did they get that kind of fire power?" That was definitely Benji.

"Sit-rep, team. Everyone there?" Ethan demanded.

"Saturn here," Brandt replied darkly, peering into the shadows. "A little barbequed, but in one piece. That blast was aimed at me, sorry fellas."

"Pluto here. I'm on the fifth floor, all six goons accounted for. Making my way down."

"Copy that," Ethan replied. "Venus?"

Jane sounded out of breath. "I got Smith and the documents."

"Good. Make sure the coast is clear, then head to the rendezvous. Saturn, what's the situation on the unfriendlies?"

Brandt's finger twitched on the trigger, his eyes flicking all around the room, cataloguing everything. "I don't see any, but I don't think –" he broke off suddenly as one of the shadows moved in the far left corner. Without a second thought, he fired off several rounds, and then dove back behind a cart when the man retaliated. Within seconds, the shadow morphed into two – three – men who began firing mercilessly on Brandt.

Scrambling for better cover, Brandt fired off a few shots, taking down one man before having to switch out his magazine. He quickly placated the shouting voice of his team leader in his ear: "Saturn under heavy fire. And running out of ammo," he said as he looked sadly at his gun. He barely registered Ethan's response before he took off again, firing, determined to make it to the window. A jump out the third story window wasn't too bad, and it was quickly becoming his only option…

A sudden force slammed into his left leg, and he stumbled back. Too surprised to catch himself, he landed on his back, the wind leaving his lungs. He didn't have time to see what had caused him to fall, before two men were upon him. His gun having slid from his grip, he quickly kicked the gun from the hands of the first man who reached him, before diving into the second man's legs and taking him down. Using his momentum, he rolled back onto his feet and planted a solid kick to the downed man's solar plexus before thrusting an elbow back and up into the other man he'd sensed coming up from behind him. He didn't need to hear the brilliant crack to know he'd broken his nose. He followed it with an uppercut that pushed the man back several paces, before being grabbed from behind in a headlock.

Brandt struggled against the force of the man's bicep against his windpipe, kicking out again at the man who was approaching him from the front, sending him staggering back again. Seizing the chance, he gripped the man's arm and using all his upper body strength, threw him up and over his shoulder and onto the ground in front of him.

The man landed with a dull thud, clearly dazed and unmoving. Brandt, now breathing hard, took a step forward, but found his legs suddenly giving out on him.

The second man wasted no time. He rushed forward, and before Brandt knew it, he felt a blinding burst of pain in the side of his head before the ground rushed up to greet him, turning his world black.

The man who had knocked the agent unconscious now stood over him, his face set in a grim line, muzzle pointed at the agent's skull. He was about to pull the trigger when his co-worker wheezed from his position on the ground.

"No," he coughed. He got an inquisitive look from his gun-toting partner. "Donner wants him alive."

The man with the gun scowled before shoving his gun back into its holster. "Fine," he growled. "Then lets get the hell out of here and blow the place sky-high." With his partner's help, they dragged the unconscious agent from the building and into their truck. By some sheer dumb luck, they didn't run into anyone on their way out. One tossed some detonators into the corridors as he went, and once they were racing down the street, he hit the button and watched as the building went up in a spectacular fireball.

Ethan had gotten maybe twenty feet outside the building and towards the rendezvous when he heard the sounds of shots being fired over the communications, cutting Brandt off mid-sentence. He listened as his agent reported on his dwindling ammo. He wasn't sure if Brandt heard his proclamation of assistance, but he quickly changed directions and headed back inside.

Not knowing exactly what floor Brandt was on, and not getting a reply from his continued shouted questions, Ethan decided to just follow his ears and instinct. His gaze swept every corner, while his ears tried to discern where the gunshots were coming from. Above, he decided. Definitely above.

Moving swiftly up the stairs, he'd just reached the second floor when the explosion rocked the building, catapulting him out the window and onto the grass, where he rolled until his body slammed into a car.

When his eyes finally opened, all he could see was smoke. A horrible ringing filled his ears, threatening to crack open his skull. His brain felt like it had been battered around inside his head a few times. Choking on the smoke in his lungs, Ethan groaned and gingerly sat up, blinking in confusion at the smouldering wreckage before him. His eyes grew wide and he jumped up when he remembered what had transpired moments before. Brandt! He'd headed inside to find Brandt! Was he -?

His morbid thoughts were cut off as he registered the voices shouting in his ear. His hearing coming back, he realized that the voices were shouting his name. But they were getting louder…

Shaking his head to clear it, he suddenly spotted Jane running towards him, calling his name. She reached him, gripping his shoulders. He grabbed her shoulders too, but only to anchor himself as he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him.

"Jane," he gasped, his question silently conveyed by his pleading expression.

"I don't know," she cried, tearing her eyes from his to glance around them, before quickly pulling him after her. The two stumbled around the property, heading away from the heat of the fire. "I didn't see Benji or Brandt, and then I saw you – " she cut herself off, her eyes wide. "Oh my god, I hope they weren't in there!"

Ethan didn't want to say anything, but he was pretty sure that Brandt had been in the building. He didn't know about Benji, though, and could only pray that the agent had gotten out.

His prayers were somewhat answered when they arrived at the rendezvous point, and his gaze fell upon a bruised and pale Benji - but a bruised-and-pale-alive Benji.

Benji's eyes were wide with fear, and he looked over their shoulders, obviously searching for Brandt. When he didn't see him, his gaze settled on Ethan, who felt like the world had just sat down on his shoulders as he shook his head sadly at the tech.

Two hours later, Ethan emerged from building with the clean-up team. The IMF had sent them down to clean up the damage and create a cover story for the explosion, but Ethan wasn't concerned with what happened after. He stalked over to where Jane and Benji waited off to the side. The expression on Ethan's face was pure anger, an expression the two agents weren't expecting to see in this situation. It became clear, however, when he spoke his next words:

"Brandt's body wasn't in the building. They've got him."