A/N: In case anyone's wondering, I didn't (almost) win international literary competition. I won one on province level, but I was 13-year-old and writing original stories, not fanfics. ;)

Anyone knows how long exactly Brandt was an analyst/Hunt was in prison? Was it mentioned in M:I?

Disclaimer: Characters you know are not mine.

Thank you for past reviews and the ones you're still going to post! ;)


Part Two

They sat by the table and drinking non-alcoholic beverages they spent almost two hours talking, mostly about movies. She admitted her love to spy and action movies and frequently changing idols. Will let her do most of the talking, thinking how easy it was to actually feel normal, not threatened by some crazies, not preparing for another twenty feet jump with magnets to protect him from being punctured or chopped to pieces by a huge fan. He knew he couldn't let his guard down for too long, but during that time he really felt like ordinary man. Even with a gun reminding him he was not the man he claimed to be now.

Nice evening was destroyed by a quiet chirp of his phone. Ethan sent a message he was on his way to Portland and that they were to meet in two hours.

"I have to get this," he said with regret. "But I'll walk you out of here, if you want me to."

"Family not-so-much emergency?" she asked.

'Family, yeah. If you can call crazy IMF agent my family,' he thought.

"Kind of, yes," he said instead.

"What kind of historian has not-so-much emergency calls at midnight, carries a gun to a bar and most certainly knows how to use it?", she asked quietly.

He regarded her calmly.

"You watch too many action movies," he said after a few seconds of silence.

"And I'm proud of it," she replied.

He didn't say anything, just smiled, but he felt he didn't want to spend too much more time with her. She seemed harmless on the surface, but on the other hand, God knows who she really was. Given her behaviour, she probably really was slightly paranoid Polish dentist, since some kind of spy wouldn't challenge him so openly. He decided to go with historian story and not react to this in any serious way.

"Come on, where is your hotel?" he asked. "I'd call a taxi for you, but they are not really reliable to take short and safe route to your place."

She gave him the address, seemingly dropping the subject of his 'story'. It turned out to be a half an hour walk in the direction she had been already heading when he first had noticed her. And he had left his car nearby that hotel before he came here to drink, but of course he couldn't tell her that.

"Do you trust me enough to let me go with you?" he asked, paying the bill.

"Well, I don't have much of a choice," she replied, checking her phone. "If you decide to rape me there's nothing I can do, if not, I can only hope you'll defend me again if necessary."

"I like that attitude," he said with a smile. "Okay, let's go."

The night wasn't very warm, but they both were dressed properly. They were walking in silence. Jo was focusing on a pavement before her, Will was looking out for trouble, but his sixth sense was calm. He walked with his hands in his pockets, relaxed and a little bit sobered. He felt bad for stupid message from Ethan destroying quite a nice evening, but there was nothing he could do now. Anyway, he wouldn't be seeing Jo again, so it didn't matter. Not that he fell in love with her. She was nice and witty, and fun to talk to, but not enough to make him feel attracted to her.

It was almost 1 AM when they reached her hotel. It was cheap but decent. They stood before the front door.

"I would invite you inside, but I think I need to sleep. I'm supposed to go to Seattle tomo... today," said Jo. He nodded.

"That's fine. I need to attend to my 'not-quite family emergency' anyway," he replied, smiling softly.

"Yeah. Sorry about that. I was half-stupid then and I really watch too many action movies," she said, lowering her gaze to the ground.

"No, hey, I admit, I have a past and I'm slightly paranoid, hence the gun," Will raised his hand in peaceful gesture. "Not your average boring historian, believe me. I'm glad anyway to I was able to help and keep you safe."

"Yes, I was really lucky you were there. Thank you again, for everything," Jo replied and kissed him lightly on both cheeks.

"You're welcome," said Will. "Hey, where can I find your story? I'd like to read that before I see the movie."

"On the Internet? You know, if you cannot find it with Google, it doesn't exist?", she replied with a smile and raised eyebrows. "Bye," she added and went through the door, not looking back.

He saw her going to the reception desk and collect her key. Out of habit he remembered the pigeonhole the key was taken from, then turned away and went to his car to wait for Ethan.


After Julia Hunt's "death" he wasn't made Chief Analyst of the IMF because the Secretary wanted to make him feel better after a lie he had to be provided, no. He was made Chief Analyst because after four weeks of training and catching up with the data he really was the best analyst they had at the time. Well, he still would be the best analyst if he didn't return to the field.

William Brandt was a quiet genius, even if no-one ever admitted it out loud. That made him potentially better agent than legendary Ethan Hunt, especially now, when he learned how to get a little rogue for a mission. William's team "before Julia" had been of three people, not four, like Ethan's, because IMF knew how good William was even then – he just needed another field agent and tech support with field skills. It wasn't enough to stop the events in Croatia from happening, but still. Quiet genius had little chance against determined "Field God" in person of Ethan Hunt anyway.

When William Brandt reached his car, the Will, quiet historian working in Vancouver was long gone. Now he was Agent Brandt, soon on a mission.


He spent his time waiting for Ethan on doing some not really legal research. Provided with a laptop with truly useful software, he was more than capable with obtaining his own data without help from IMF HQ. He had no idea why Ethan was coming, so he searched after his new acquaintance. Breaking into hotel's mainframe was a piece of cake. Soon he found female guest with not-so-Polish sounding name, Joanna Miller. There was not other "Jo" in the hotel. Then he checked Polish register of doctors: yes, there was an active, twenty-something dentist with that name. Then he simply Googled her, looking for her story. No matching hits.

He decided that maybe she had written it under a pseudonym and left it at that. He put down his laptop and settled comfortably in driver's seat with his hand ready on the gun. He wanted to catch as much sleep as he could. He had slept for seven hours after a mission that made him arrive here, he expected to be sent on another one straight away, so even half an hour of sleep mattered.

He was awake the second he sensed someone approaching, so he involuntarily welcomed Ethan with a gun pointed at his face. Ethan stood by the passenger's door and smiled lightly. Will put down his gun and unblocked the door.

"It's just the two of us?", Will asked.

"You were already here, Benji's in HQ and he'll help us from there, Jane's not really in shape for another mission...", Ethan said, but was cut off by already annoyed Will.

"As if I couldn't tell! I thought you'd bring a temporary replacement."

Ethan regarded him calmly.

"Are you going to feel guilty after every mission that goes even slightly off the track?", he asked.

"I already had my guilt trip, so can you get to the point?", Will snapped, reaching out to Ethan. Hunt placed an iPhone in his hand.

"Take your time," said Ethan, closed the door and moved away from the car.

He watched as Will put in his earphones and started the recording. After three minutes he plucked out his earphones, there was a spark, Will took a deep breath, slowly left the car, put the phone on the ground and stepped on it repeatedly. Unnecessary measures, but, as Ethan started to realise, legal way to lose some frustration. Will looked calm on the surface, but Ethan could guess he was pissed off.

"Ethan...", Brandt started slowly, raising his bright and suddenly ice-cold eyes and looking at his team leader. "How many movie sets are in Portland?"


A/N: In case anyone wanted to check the register of doctors, luckily there is no Joanna Miller, General Dental Practitioner or any doctor of that name in Poland. ;)

Now here comes the tough part. I'm not sure I'm capable of writing action story in English. But I'll leave you with that small twist 'till the time I decide to publish another part.