Smudged Ink (Or, Five things Brandt never told the team)
Summary: …and one thing they made sure to tell him. They all have secrets never to be shared, he is no exception. Especially when it comes to the Cobalt mission.
Also: These are little 'missing' scenes that I have little head canons for. Also known as 'scenes that I think should have been in the movie, but they weren't and I'm waiting for the deleted scenes'. There ya go.
Oh And: The title of the chapter is a lyric from a Mariana Trench song. Haven't Had Enough is the song. It's my muse music, deal.
This is my second 5 + 1 story ever, so constructive criticism is encouraged, reviews are loved, and flames are used to roast marshmallows.
Shall we? Enjoy.
"We all have our secrets, don't we Ethan?"
1. Testing, Testing, I'm Just Suggesting
He had been on his third cup of coffee, half way through his reports, and almost completely ready to yell at the person next to him to put in some goddamn headphones, because no one wanted to hear his taste in music all day, when the report had come in.
As Chief Analyst, he was only called on the highest level casesand it had taken less than a day for most of the other pencil pushers to figure that out after his transfer. Beckoned with only his name and a curled finger, he left his desk and followed the agent. All the eyes were on him, but conditioning to that had been a natural hurtle that he had overcome, they went back to other things as they exited to the hall.
Briefing was a two minute walk through the building before he was shoved into a car and sent to the airport, but it was easy to get the basics about the failed mission.
One agent dead, two waiting for instructions, and a very sensitive set of codes in the hands of a money hungry assassin.
Just another international incident waiting to happen, but then again, what else was new?
The rest of the information, specifics that he knew from experience could make or break a mission, was condensed and snugly paper clipped to the slim file that was handed to him just before the car door closed. He diligently skimmed over the information while at the same time creating a plan of action.
When he met with the higher ups, whether that be the Secretary or the president, he was going to do what he always did, demonstrate that he was a competent agent with both the talent of research and the experience that came with field work. The time of proving himself had expired a long time ago, most of the agents that had been in his position having slacked off by this point, not him. There were certain aspects that he missed about field work, the locations, the thrill that came with preventing emergencies, but he was not going to let there be any chance that he was going back.
So he worked harder, faster, and with more efficiency than anyone else. He had a dozen more wrinkles, lost two abs in his former six pack, but was worth it, the grueling hours that he subjected himself to, just as long as they didn't put him back in the lion's pit.
The king of that hell was currently incarcerated, the black mane of pride having been shaved off with the death of Julia, but he still feared the aggression and sense of revenge that prowled in the veins of every agent, especially those of the man he had failed.
Little to say, being an analyst was a line a defense, one that he would rather slit his own throat than give up. There had been therapy, both mental and physical (though it was a short amount) since it was hard to tell whether losing all confidence or the extreme case of carpal tunnel that came from spending all day at the range mindlessly shooting was worse and needed to take precedence. In the end it was the mental state they deemed more dangerous, but really they didn't care.
They wanted him back in the field.
Even now, when he was shaking hands with the Secretary (not really since the older man was there via screen, since the man was technically in Russia for a peace keeping mission) and his Board of lackeys (Directors/Senior-Senior Field Agents); even now, when he had cemented his point in stone and steel. Their eyes glazing over him like a prime piece of meat; he had been very good, some say the caliber of the best guarded secret the IMF had. Hunt was always a whisper; even in his absence no one forgot, waiting for him to stroll through the glass doors of headquarters like nothing had ever gone wrong.
They had thought his current position had been temporary, that he would rise to the absence and replace the one he had been guarding. That all he had needed was, how had they put it? "All you need is some time off and a couple drinks". That he was going to "get past this Brandt" and that it was "in no way, shape, or form is this your fault".
Trust, in his case was completely missing, he had withdrawn from everyone; he knew what the men in front of him were capable, that the comments were fake and meaningless.
"You'll be back in the field before you know it"
The only reason he was not back with a gun in hand, running away and wrestling with other spies, was the man shown at the end of the table. The secretary had understood; a fact that he had been understandably cautious about in accepting, being surrounded by sharks you never expected one that wasn't out for blood. He had an ally, but he knew it couldn't last. The man was growing old, due to retire soon; he couldn't go back, he had to show his worth where he was.
In the present, not the past.
This was the chance, this meeting, to improve his standing with all of the big shots, not just one. The delivery of the situation was smooth and detailed; at least on his part anyway, it had been screwed up when an idiot intern had decided to intrude with coffee.
When he was done with his part, he prepared to be ushered back to his station to continue working; there was no use trying to analyze the faces of the elders, their stone faces cracked for no one, there were no emotions to learn what they thought of him.
Hoping for the best was not something he loved; he wanted plans, he wanted results. Putting his faith in something that did not exist except in a word was pointless, but it was all he had. Hope; he held the word close, perhaps the brains of the overpaid agents had finally recognized that the effective machine he was would crash and burn if he was not here.
Currently, ideas about what to do to resolve the situation were being thrown around, ranging from the harshness from some agents…
"Agents Carter and Dunn should be decommissioned and sent back to the farm, this type of failure is unacceptable…"
…to the suggestions of the more acceptable Agent Abrams…
"The communication and intelligence teams should start locating the assassin, then IMF resources moved to intercept her before intel is sold…"
The agents went back and forth, completely ignoring his presence. Which was fine with him, his part was done and he really had nothing else to offer. He had only himself and his suit coat to gather, the black fabric sliding onto his crisp shirt as he prepared to leave them alone to make a decision. They did not need him, not anymore.
"Agent Brandt, considering the facts and the situation at hand, what do you suggest?"
His neck had been forcing his head dead, in a non-threatening gesture, but it snap back up when he heard the question asked not by the secretary, but by one of the others. One of the others that thought he was nothing but an agent being wasted at a desk. The surprise on his face was hidden well, but it still swirled in his mind.
Wiping his palms together, he took a breath before addressing the half dozen men staring at him with calculating and judging glances. The possibility of this situation had not been overlooked when he had prepared a technique to deliver the information, though it was not expected. They wanted his opinion, which was something he had prepared for, but it wasn't the greatest plan.
The driver had even given him a few looks when he had been murmuring his lines, at the mention of a few names, one more above the others. He had not made eye contact, but he had not missed the eyes of the other agent on him for the rest of the trip.
One more breath, his fingers rubbed against themselves; he doubted this would go over well. Oh well.
"Due to the urgency of the situation at hand and considering the sensitivity of the lost intel, I agree that with Agent Abrams that the top priority at this moment is to identify Cobalt. If we can do that, we can intercept the inevitable meeting between him and the assassin Sabine Moreau, where we can recover the intel."
Taking a pause gave him the split second chance to scan for reactions, to which he was given nods to continue. Now would come the hard part, a few brain cells crossed themselves in place of him crossing his fingers for luck.
A breath to give him strength, he smoothly continued "My suggestion is that the remaining team members, Agent Benjamin Dunn and Agent Jane Carter, be used to infiltrate the Kremlin to gather information about the identity of Cobalt. Both have extensive training in…"
"We all know that training is not the same as experience, which Agent Dunn has little of" Another Agent limply dropped the personal file he had been skimming, dismissing his plans before the entire idea was out. Of course, this was the same agent that wanted to send both agents back to kingdom come.
Decommissioning the agents was pointless; they had made a mistake, and while it was a rather big one, that did not mean that it had to wreck the rest of their lives. They were all human, mistakes happened.
"I…" Once again, he was cut off. His jaw clenched minimally due to the control he had perfected over the years. He would not rip the head off of a senior agent, he would not…the chant helped very little.
The Agent continued, exploiting the obvious flaws in the plan which he had planned to solve if the man had let him speak. But no, the older man just had to speak with malice and cruel sarcasm in each word. "You suggest we send in two unqualified agents on a mission of such risk? With all due respect Agent Brandt, this is the Kremlin we are talking about, I personally would not even send you in if you were in your prime"
The insult, though it was truth, rolled off his shoulders in a fluid motion; it would come back later, when he was nursing a beer. But now was not the time to take it personally and ignore the glare of the 'wiser' agent.
He would like nothing more than to hit the man over the head with a steel crowbar, perhaps it would knock some sense into the man, but since he couldn't do it literally; he would just do it verbally. Muscles tensed, he stood his ground against the higher ranking man as he ignored the other members in the room and locked eyes with the Agent.
His tone was colder than before, deathly cold that he had no tolerance for rank bullshit right now; they could play those games anytime, but not now when the information was getting away as they spoke.
"Agent Dekker, I understand your concerns, which is why I was going to suggest that a highly experienced agent lead the mission. That way the resources presented by Agents Dunn and Carter can be utilized in an effective manner that will be successful"
The man promptly shut up, he barely resisted grinning at the victory. All eyes were back on him again; the feeling of his ego being groomed did not last long as he was reminded what was about to come next. They were going to ask who he suggested for the position and while he had person in mind, it would not go over well. He just knew it wouldn't.
Why would it ever go well when there was so much on the line and one misstep in the wrong, or right direction depending on who you were, would send him back to his personal hell?
His suggestion was logical and factual, but crazy in theory. It would work, he was confident, but they had to believe that "It is my personal opinion that the most qualified and experienced agent to lead this mission, which will be high risk, is Agent Hunt"
The uproar, led by his favorite person in the world, was instantaneous; Agent Dekker was on his feet the moment the name left his lips. "Ethan Hunt went rogue, we cannot trust him with something of this caliber!"
They were bringing up trust now? If anyone should not be trusted, it was him. He was the one that had fucked up big time here. The very high level asset they were talking about had been lost because of him, but no one cared about that. They had trusted him with the task of keeping two people, two out of billions, safe; simple right? Right. OF course it all went wrong, but like that file would see the day of light again. Oh no, they wanted to bury his failures and burn Hunt alive for his. But that was the IMF for you, making perfect sense since its conception years ago.
Not to be baited into a yelling match, he kept his voice low and firm while again locking gazes with the man "Agent Hunt is nearby and can easily be extracted by Carter and Dunn for the mission. He is one of the highest ranking agents to exist in the IMF and is more than qualified to assist the other agents in successfully completing the mission"
Dekker snapped back "That is not the point; Agent Hunt cannot be trusted…"
"That's enough Adam" The Secretary intervened, casting one digital look upon the man that had the Agent sinking back into his chair faster than the Titanic. Then the older man looked to him "Agent Hunt is currently unavailable for the mission, although the suggestion is a valid one. Do you have other suggestions for the leader of the team?"
There was something they weren't telling him, the tension in the room having risen from something other than the hot head temper of Agent Dekker. The board members were glancing at each other quickly, a sign of discomfort and nervousness. It had something to do with Agent Hunt, but it was not his place to ask. No, it was his place to close the deal and end this discussion right now.
"After the mission is accomplished, Agent Hunt can be returned to prison or another area of the board's choice. The information currently in the hands of a known assassin, more than likely soon to be in the hands of Cobalt, takes precedence over any past events. Despite my past interactions with Agent Hunt, I believe him to be the Agent for this mission" He eyed the board, waiting for one of them to try and contradict him, to which he would rephrase the same information. The bottom line was that Hunt was perfect for the job, who else was crazy enough to infiltrate the Kremlin?
The fact was that Hunt was the best person for the job, even if he wanted nothing to do with the man. Releasing the king of the lion's pit was something that may come back to bite him in the ass, but he had to do his job first. Which meant that he had to get the best agent possible for the mission, which was the crazy man he had happened to personally scorn.
But that did not matter.
The Secretary thought for a moment, letting the logic sink in and connect to show the brilliance in the plan, before looking back to him "Agent Brandt, do you believe this plan of yours will work?"
Without hesitation, he replied with no wavering in his tone. His mental sanity had been questioned before, but now there was no question that he was fully correct and in control. "Yes sir. One hundred percent"
His reply permeated the air for a moment, before the Secretary spoke "Dekker, contact Agent Carter to deliver the mission. Abrams, make sure that Agent Brandt is on a flight to Russia within the hour"
Two resounding replies of "Yes sir" went past his ears as his eyes narrowed at the news.
"Excuse me sir?" He managed not to stammer, but he was going to Russia? He was going to the area where a newly freed Ethan Hunt was going to be roaming?! The regret of the suggestion was starting to boil up…
"If you are so firm in your belief that this plan will work, then you should be over in Russia with me to see the outcome of the mission"
The tone, along with the look he was being given gave no room for arguing. It was an order and he had to follow it. He resisted the urge to rub his temples after the screen went dark.
He was going back into the pit.
Dammit.
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Original Idea/Self Imposed Prompt/Summary for the Chapter: He never told them that it was all his idea. His batshit crazy idea, worthy of the nonexistent but still respected 'Ethan Hunt Plan' trophy, that ended up saving the whole damn world. That somehow he had brought together the four of them, even though he had become involved on a whim of the former Secretary. He never told them that he had fought for his plan, for Ethan to get out of jail (because frankly, they would have completely screwed if another senior agent would have led the team). He'd never tell.