Author's Note: This takes place a few weeks after the events of Mission Impossible Fallout and consequently includes spoilers. In part, this is based on my story Hunt&Gather, so I recommend reading that first. Also violent crimes will be discussed in detail. You have been warned.

Special thanks to PandorWho for helping me with the French bits.

Thanks as always to Ellster for beta-reading. The character of Elaine belongs to her. All Elaine-scenes have been approved. If you want to know more, check out her stories, they're awesome.

Theories about what the hell is going on are welcome at any point. Enjoy.

Peace and Quiet

I can't breathe.

One thought controlling everything. Every single action was directed towards one goal now: oxygen. Benji was dimly aware that he was trembling. He tried to reach up to his neck, where the rope cut off precious air, but he couldn't. Nothing was there, he couldn't see, he couldn't breathe. Everything went dark. He was scared. Genuinely afraid for his life. He would die here. Right now. It was terrifying, it was... dark... he opened his eyes. People. Tables. A café. He could smell red wine and a faint salty fragrance in the air from the Thames behind him. His chest felt heavy. He looked down and saw the countdown, just hitting three, two, one – the rope tightened around his neck, it hurt, and he still couldn't breathe, there was nothing he could do. This is the end, a hoarse voice rung in his ears.

"Benji!"

He sat up and took the deepest breath possible. He felt hot and cold at the same time, vaguely aware that his shirt was drenched in sweat and clinging to his body, but mostly he felt alive.

"Just breathe. You're safe," Skye said soothingly, and Benji wished he could hold on to her voice. "You're home. Look at me." She lightly touched his chin, turned his face towards her, but then he already collapsed into her arms. "It's all right, skat," she whispered, pulling him into her. "You're okay."

Benji breathed deeply, tried to say something, but couldn't.

"You're safe," she said again. Skye was stroking his back. "What was it this time?"

"It was strange..." he said quietly. "It was Kashmir again... but also London."

"London?" she asked in surprise.

He nodded. "I don't know. Lately it keeps coming back. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise. I'm here for you."

Benji nodded, but Skye could see he was troubled. "Let's just go back to sleep."

She worried. She could tell he was frustrated, but it wasn't like him to shut her out. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I didn't mean to wake you again."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

La Trinité-sur-mer was a small fishing village that wasn't much more than a port. This time of year the weather was grey and windy, but on occasion the sun peaked through the clouds for a few precious minutes. The woman walking along the pier didn't mind the occasional raindrop on her trenchcoat. One of La Trinité's main qualities was that is was small and out of the way. Thoroughly uneventful. Just the way Ilsa Faust liked it after what had happened in Kashmir. Life felt good among the small community that had first regarded her wearily as a stranger but eventually come to accept her. Being surrounded by people who had no idea about plutonium was utterly calming.

Ilsa rounded the corner, away from the seaside. Someone behind her followed at a distance. The person had been there for a while now. She cursed her paranoia. Everything was fine. She was back at MI6. Not disavowed, certainly not disgraced. Not running anymore. As it was, on a well-earned holiday. Time to calm down – time to think about what had happened with Ethan Hunt.

The agent rounded another corner, already knowing the narrow streets by heart. Again the other person followed. This was no coincidence. Ilsa sped up and stepped into a secluded doorway that couldn't be seen from the road. She waited, fighting the all-too-familiar feeling of angst that was creeping over her skin. She was so sick of it.

Agent Faust heard steps approaching and tensed. Decidedly she stepped out in the open and stood face to face with a woman. She had just begun the "Who are you?" when she already recognised her.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Would you like some leftovers?"

It was Danish strawberry tart with vanilla cream. Growing up in the family bakery, from time to time Skye had outbursts of manufacturing delicious Danish pastries, and on rare occasions even Benji couldn't handle all of it, which resulted in bringing them to the office.

"Sure," Elaine said, succeeding to hide just how much she wanted that tart.

Skye pushed the lunch box across the cafeteria table towards her fellow agent. "Hypothetically," she suddenly began, "if you wanted to kill someone but can't use any obvious weapons, how would you do it?"

"Well, you could always strangle them," Elaine said munching.

"Something more subtle."

"So poison."

"I'm listening."

Elaine blinked once, then launched into a monologue about various substances with a still only slightly suspicious look. "Generally, a large enough dose of anything will kill a person," she started. "What is best is determined by your time frame, availability, if there's medics around, etcetera. Personally, I'd take radioactive isotopes. Takes a bit longer, but if you do it right it's the most sure-fire way, because there's nothing anyone can do. This is good, by the way," she added, motioning at the cake.

Skye smiled. Coming from Elaine Bray, 'good' was high praise. "Let's assume there's a very short time frame. And whatever you use has to pass through a metal detector. And medics are close by."

"Okay, so no radioactive isotopes." She sounded slightly disappointed. "And as untraceable as possible I guess?"

"Correct."

"Liquid, solid or gas? Also, injection or ingestion?" She paused, looked down at the cake, then back up at Skye. "Wait. Are you trying to kill me?"

"No," the Danish agent smiled. "Not you."

"Good." Unfazed, Elaine continued munching vanilla cream. "Well, ingestion always takes half an hour at least, so that's a no. For injection you could always use the infamous air needle, it's nicely untraceable, but might be detected in time, assuming there's gonna be an autopsy."

"There will be."

"There you go. Another problem is that the needle can't pass through the metal detector. And if you don't want to leave puncture marks you have to be creative."

"Creative how?"

Elaine shrugged. "There are enough ways. The key to killing someone is always brain damage. Either directly or indirectly. The quickest indirect methods are by proxy through heart activity or breathing, but thanks to modern medicine, if it's discovered soon enough, you can keep someone alive long enough for anything to wear off and then you're screwed."

"And directly?" Skye asked.

At first Elaine smiled conspiratorially, but then she frowned. "You realise you can't just buy the stuff you seem to be after at every corner drug store?"

"That's exactly why I'm talking to you."

Elaine decided she had humoured her long enough. "I think we can screw the 'hypothetically' by now. Who are we talking about?"