Author's note: Forgot to mention this in the first chapter, but any chapter prompts are welcome. I have this planned through Chapter 3. So I would really appreciate some prompts for Chapter 4 and onward.
Apologies for the delay on this chapter. Hit a bump in the RL road this past week, but I should be back on a road without bumps again now.
Also … Happy Halloween!
Chapter 2
Gdańsk, Poland
Early hours of the morning. The streets were quiet. Well, mostly quiet. Through this silence, a hooded shadow was moving. From time to time, it stopped and looked back. Nobody following. Had to check nonetheless. It is a requirement in the field, one has to be forever vigilant. One lapse of concentration could have dire consequences.
The shadow continued to be on the move and check behind for any suspicious movement. It became clear soon enough that the figure was a man. Especially when reaching a spot of light and the face of Ethan Hunt came briefly into view from under the hood.
Earlier that evening, the team had had an op in the harbor. It had gone according to plan up to a point. Then improvisation had been required. Including Ethan separating from the rest of the team. Ilsa had accepted that separation with some difficulty. Obviously. But there had been little that she had could've done to persuade him otherwise.
That had been … two hours earlier. It had taken Ethan a long time to find a clear path to the safehouse. Neutralizing a few bad guys along the way had been part of that approach. He wasn't sure if there was anyone else following him. Hence why a few clever detours before finally reaching his destination.
Still cautious though, even on the staircase leading towards the apartment. Just in case there would be a trap waiting for him here. No indication of that until reaching the door. He listened in at the door. Silence. Suspicious. Or maybe not. Perhaps all was calm and the rest of his team were just waiting for him.
Burst in or sneak in? Ethan decided for the former, after a brief thought process. Door swung open and he rushed in. Only when he heard a mild push at the back of his head and then the sound of the door closing, Ethan realized that maybe his earlier suspicions were correct. Until a more than familiar voice reached his ears.
"Ethan?"
He had thought of lowering the hands that had been briefly raised up a moment ago. But no … The respite lasted exactly three seconds. "No, no … Keep them up and drop it." He tried to turn around and protest but the silencer nudged him once more. "I said drop it … "
He did as the voice ordered, tossing his own gun away, before deciding to speak. "Ilsa … it's me. It's ok."
Another nudge to the head.
"The first words you said to me when we first met … Say them."
She was just being thorough. Ethan could understand that. And there was no hesitation in his answer. "Nice shoes, by the way."
"And what did I tell you in Kashmir when you asked if I was OK?"
Easy as pie, once more. "You've never looked better."
The pressure of the gun disappeared and two arms wrapped firmly around him from behind. "You had me worried sick, you bastard … "
She was relieved, despite her choice of words and sharp tone. He was also relieved. Even though he hurt. "Good to see you too, Ilsa … " His attempt to hide the pain though had been unsuccessful and it slipped in his tone. Something that didn't go unnoticed.
Ilsa had moved to face him. "You're hurt … " Matter-of-fact statement. Which was followed by a demanding, no-nonsense one. "Hoodie off. Shirt too. And get a seat. Don't argue with me."
Ethan wanted to protest but that tone and that look on her face made him realize it would be a futile attempt. He complied, not without giving her a little look. A look that told plenty. But mostly 'what, you couldn't wait to see me shirtless'.
"You forget I already saw you shirtless once. So stop giving me that look, Ethan Hunt."
He stopped and just focused on the task at hand. Which was a tad difficult, since pretty much every movement hurt. She didn't help him, just giving him a critical gaze. Something like 'serves you right'. Or thereabouts.
"Where are the others?"
"Oh, right. They're out looking for you. Hang on … " She clicked her earpiece. "This is Black Widow. I've got the Cap. Return home."
He chuckled briefly. "Who picked these call-signs?" She deadpanned him. "You? Never figured you for a comic book geek."
"I'm not a geek. Just … happen to like it. Comics, movies … Need to pass the time with something besides looking over my shoulder every 5 seconds, you know."
His shirt landed next to his hoodie on the floor and Ilsa grabbed the first-aid kit, while he resumed the earlier topic. "I see … And you see me as … Captain America?"
"Well … just look at you. You throw yourself in the thick of it." She gestured towards the myriad of bruises and scars all over him. "You're a mess. But yes … To me, you are the closest thing to Captain America."
"Mhm … And you? Black Widow? You're not Russian … are you?" He stared in her eyes, as she began busying herself with cleaning his wounds and applying ointments.
"Huh. No. As far as I know, anyway. But I felt it was appropriate. She's a spy. She's cold, like me." Sign of protest, shoved off with a movement of her hand. "Yes, yes, I know some people consider me cold. I admit that I am, most of the time. And … I like her. Natasha. She does remind me of myself quite often."
He scrutinized her face for a few moments in silence. Which prompted her to react. "What?"
"Oh … nothing. I just thought that … Perhaps the Secretary … Connections. Maybe you could visit the set of the next movie or something. Get to meet the woman behind the hero … Are you fangirling? Just a little?"
He was rewarded with a cloth slap to the face. "Don't make me hurt you, Ethan Hunt, or I swear … " Except she was interrupted with him grabbing her arms and looking into her eyes. "You'll do what? Kill me? We both know you won't … "
Momentary silence, before a quiet reply. "Don't tempt me … "
This time she was cut off. Permanently. As he brought her lips to his, ignoring that there was still pain. It was a soft, gentle kiss. They parted and she snuck in a whisper, after breathing in. "What kept you, Hunt?"
And they both burst into a chuckle. Just as a ping reached their ears. Ilsa didn't need to look for her weapon. A swift movement and she brought it up as fast as a gunslinger in a spaghetti Western. Probably faster.
Just in time to spot the first face in the door. Followed by the others.
"Jesus, Benji … Don't you guys knock?"
"Knock? Oh … OH. Were you in the middle of … ? Um … I don't want to know."
A quiet glare washed over him.
"Oh, now you've done it … Iron Man." The heavy voice of Luther had sounded.
Ethan looked amused over his shoulder, just as Ilsa stood up, hands on hips.
"Just for that … You are responsible for packing, Benji."
"I'm sorry but … you're the new guy. Uh … girl. Woman. Who put you in charge?" Brandt decided to pipe up from behind Luther.
"I did, Brandt. You want to help him?"
Brandt raised his hands up in resignation, not really wanting to fight this.
"Well, if you guys really want to know," Ethan began. But Ilsa threw the glare towards him and he just smiled and changed the subject. "I'll just stick with being the patient. You have the room, Black Widow."
"Damn straight, Cap. And don't you forget it."
And laughter ensued. All was back to normal again.
