Thanks to anon for the "Nightmare" prompt! This one took a bit of a darker turn than the last one but it was certainly fun to write. I just hope I did it justice! Hope you guys like it and be sure to let me know what you think and if you have any prompts that you'd like me to take a look at!
Ethan found himself in the dark, unable to see a thing. Still, he was overwhelmed by the sense of vastness in the darkness, of empty. He spun around, trying to find something, any point of light that he might head towards. There was nothing until an elevator appeared just ahead of him.
Ethan approached cautiously, his years of training firing every synapse in his brain that he was walking into danger. He had no weapon but the doors were his only way forward, his steps echoing in the cavernous space. He hit the button to go up, ready for anything and was surprised when the doors simply opened to an empty compartment.
He stepped in and saw that there was only one button at the top, he pressed it and stepped back as the doors closed.
"You could've stopped this, Ethan," said a voice that came out of nowhere. Ethan threw himself into the corner of the elevator, looking for the source of the voice, intent on defending himself.
"You should've known," the voice said. "You could've saved everyone."
Ethan looked up, the ceiling of the elevator car was grated and he could see a shadowy figure standing on top of it, the only feature on its face that was clearly visible a socket where the left eye should've been. The elevator began to speed upwards, the air rushing past.
"I… I didn't know…" said Ethan. "I couldn't have known..."
The speed of the car was pressing Ethan down to the floor, the figure still stood tall.
"You could've stopped this," was all it said, then the figure looked up, the top of the elevator shaft rushing towards them.
"No!" Ethan shouted, but the elevator had come to a jarring halt, the figure was gone.
The doors opened, revealing a cobbled street shrouded in darkness. He took a tentative step out, still shaken, when a blood-curdling scream rung from an alleyway. Ethan sprinted towards it but found the source of the scream slumped over by a gate, the only thing visible the knife wound in its abdomen and the blood spilling out of it.
"We were supposed to walk away, Ethan," the voice said weakly. "You might as well have stabbed me yourself."
"The list… We couldn't…" said Ethan weakly, his protests tasting like ash on his tongue.
"Everyone… Dead…" said the figure as the scene around them morphed from an alleyway into a train, the figure crystalizing into Claire, holding her abdomen as the gunshot wound continued to bleed.
Ethan ran to her, held her, cried over her like he couldn't before, cried over every death that weighed over his head. Another figure stepped from the shadows, causing the hairs on the back of Ethan's neck to stand on end.
"This is what happens, Ethan," said Jim Phelps, his old mentor, his first real nemesis. "You can't protect them, Ethan. All of your efforts only delay the inevitable."
"No-"
"You're destined to hold everyone you love in your arms as they die," Phelps continued. "Whispering to them that they'll be okay. That everything will be okay."
"You're wrong…"
"Their only chance is to get away from you," said Phelps. "But even then, just knowing you condemns them to a hard life, always looking over their shoulder, always on the knife's edge."
"No!" Ethan shouted.
Ethan woke up, immediately going for his gun, his breath raspy in his chest and his shirt drenched in sweat. Next to him, Ilsa held her own pistol at the ready, steadily lining up the most vulnerable points in the room, where attackers were most likely to breach.
"What was it? Did you hear something," asked Ilsa, straining to hear what might have startled her partner out of his sleep but only hearing the normal late-night noises of central Paris.
When Ethan didn't answer and no masked attackers rushed into their room, Ilsa slowly lowered her pistol back to her bedside table and turned to him. He sat motionless on his side of the bed, still breathing heavily, still holding his pistol at the ready. Ilsa gently took the pistol from his grip, leaning over to place it on his own bedside table.
She took his cheek in one hand, his hand in the other, "Ethan, what's wrong?"
Ethan closed his eyes, clinging to the warmth of her hand against his cheek, squeezing her hand in both of his, "Nothing."
"Ethan," Ilsa said, trying her hardest to read his expression in the dark, her voice warm and caring.
"I can't…" started Ethan, Phelps's words still ringing in his head. "I can't protect you…"
"Ethan…" said Ilsa, softly.
"Maybe for now, maybe for a year," said Ethan, his breath rattling slightly in his chest. "But eventually, I'll mess up… I'll be a step too slow… an inch off… and Benji and Luther and Brandt and… you…"
"Ethan, look at me," said Ilsa, taking his face in both of her hands, drawing his eyes back to her. "I don't need you to save me."
She laughed a little, earning herself a crack in the walls that Ethan had shored up in his sleep.
"And neither does Brandt, or Luther, or even Benji," said Ilsa, this time earning a quiet laugh from her partner. "But none of us feel as safe as we do than when you're near."
Ethan's breathing had returned to normal, his eyes focusing on her. Ilsa leaned in and Ethan met her halfway, their lips brushing against each other at first before pressing firmer, more passionate, parting only after Ethan's world had returned to normal.
Ethan looked into Ilsa's eyes and found his strength, "Thank you."
She smirked at him as if she hadn't just thrown him a lifeline as the ocean threatened to drag him under, "You're welcome, Mr. Hunt. Now, sleep."
Ethan squeezed her hand once more before settling back down, Ilsa resting her head on his chest, her hand lazily tracing the lines on his abdomen before her arm came to a rest around his waist.
Ethan breathed in the piney scent of her hair, closing his eyes. The ghosts wouldn't come back tonight. Maybe in a week, maybe a month, but he felt reassured that he'd be able to face them as long as this amazing woman was at his side.
