Disclaimer: I do not own Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol or any of the affiliated characters.

Chapter 3: Square One

It was just regular bar soap and shampoo, and the water honestly smelled a little off, but it was heaven as I rinsed layers of sand off of my body. I washed my hair twice and scrubbed my skin until it was red, making a mental note to change the sheets on the bed.

The entire bathroom was tiny and of an uncomfortable design, but I didn't even think about complaining. It was a safe house, not a hotel, and I'd been in bathrooms like it ever since joining the IMF. And cramped or not, it got me clean.

I wrapped a towel around myself, then used a second one to put up my hair. I squeezed an enormous blob of toothpaste on the brush and worked on getting rid of the dry, sandy feeling. I was terrified I was going to see little sand grains when I spit, but it was only the taste that was in my mouth. Still, it took about half of the travel size tube before I was satisfied.

I undid both towels, pulled on Jane's clothing, and let my hair hang down to dry. I looked at myself in the mirror, thoroughly unimpressed by what I saw: Exhaustion.

The bags under my eyes had bags, and any makeup I'd been wearing was washed away. I normally had a little natural color, but all I saw in the mirror was a pale complexion that extenuated the dark circles beneath my eyes. My hair, usually light brown, was darker because it was wet, and it made me look even more washed out. My green eyes stood out as the only piece of color on my face.

Figuring I should refrain from strenuous activity for the rest of the day - not that Ethan would let me do anything anyway - and that I would look better tomorrow, I exited the bathroom, hoping for food. I followed the sound of voices down the hallway, passing a few more bedrooms before descending a short flight of stairs.

"Hungry?" Benji asked when I walked into the kitchen. He was seated with Jane and Ethan at the cafe-sized table, his computers given their own little table behind him. Brandt was over by the sink; I gathered with interest that he preferred to lean against counters and doorways than sit, as there was one extra chair at the table.

"Yeah, I could eat," I answered, silently begging my stomach not to loudly betray me. I was ravenous; anything that didn't move away from me was fair game.

He pointed to a box of protein bars on the counter. "Dig in."

Brandt watched from his post. There was an amused expression on his face. "Really, Benji?"

"What?" he asked, clueless as to why Brandt was chuckling lightly and Ethan was rolling his eyes.

Jane rose and walked to the refrigerator. "She hasn't eaten anything in two days, and you want her to eat those?"

He looked at the box, not seeing anything wrong with it. "It has protein," he argued. "And chocolate! Who doesn't like chocolate?"

Jane pulled a carton of egg beaters from one of the shelves. "Sustenance," she said simply, turning on the stove and placing over the burner a pan she'd retrieved from a cabinet.

Benji looked to me. I took the empty seat next to him and put a consoling hand on his shoulder. "You know you're the first one I'd call if I had a computer malfunction." He didn't look amused until I added, "And I love chocolate."

Still, I would go with Jane on this one. She was a superb field agent with a noticeably badass way about her, but she and I had formed a sisterly relationship through Ethan, the kind that made me sure if the situation were reversed, I would be making her eggs too. We knew a bit more about health than Benji did anyway.

My stomach begged me to shovel food into my mouth, but I refrained, aware that all eyes flitted to me every so often, probably checking to see if I had passed out yet. Instead, I chewed and swallowed like a normal human being, one forkful at a time. "So where's the file?" I asked when I had cleared my plate, satisfied for the moment.

Brandt left the room without a word, and returned with the case file in one hand and a chair in the other. Ethan and Jane moved apart so he could fit between them, directly across from me and out of the way of Benji's computer collection, as a fifth at the circular table meant for four. He dropped the folder on top of the wood and pushed it towards me.

Glad for something to look at other than him, I flipped through, perusing the pages I'd memorized three days ago.

The last time I'd looked at this paper at my safe house, it was covered with markings: names were highlighted, circled, underlined, and crossed out. Twenty-four hours of work, gone - and it wasn't even real work. I remembered most of what was on the list, but every contribution by Reynolds or Baker was a lie. I sighed, nettled with irritation.

"What?" Ethan asked.

I stared down at the paper. "I had a feeling that something was wrong. A gut feeling."

"You know that none of this was your fault, right?" he asked, just to check.

I nodded, well aware that I had nothing to with my team's decision to betray me; I wasn't blaming myself. "I'm just annoyed that I couldn't do anything." I paused and rethought that. "Actually, I'm just pissed off about the whole thing." I heard a few laughs, and felt a bit better, but was more than ready to start to take them down.

"All right, what do you have on these guys?" Ethan began spreading papers out as I recalled facts.

I grabbed a sheet and a pen, putting an X on the numbers of the five suspects I had looked into. "I know it's not these."

"Not seventeen either," Brandt said. "His picture was one of those in the file Brassel showed us." He noticed my inquisitive look. "He was killed," he added.

"Yep, that would take him off the list," Benji said, marking the X. "What else?"

"Number eight caught my attention, but Reynolds said it wasn't him." I circled the number. "There were some red flags with his money, and the timing fits."

"Number fifteen," Benji said thoughtfully. He turned to Brandt, knowing that the analyst would be faster than checking the multiple beeping computers. "He was another one in the file, wasn't he?"

Brandt looked over at where Benji was pointing and nodded. He scratched it out with another X, and then he went back to his page. "Twenty-two has spent the last three weeks in China. Anything pop up in his bank accounts?"

Jane flipped to the last of her pages. "Twenty-two...No. Nothing."

I marked the X, but then asked for the paper. "He was one of the ones Baker was trying to pin it on. He said there was some money transferring." Jane handed it to me.

Benji scoffed. "He could have at least made it a little more convincing than flat out lying."

"He did," I said bluntly. "Because what he told me matched what was in our file. They forged the documents. These are different than mine."

"Does it change anything?" Ethan asked.

"No," I said. "I'm sure of my five, and the others we just did now." I shook it off and continued narrowing down suspects.

It didn't take long for me to become extremely grateful for Benji's super computer system, but even more for this new guy, Brandt. An analyst on my team would have been helpful, though unlikely; they usually didn't make it out of headquarters for actual missions because they were never trained for field work. How had he gone from expert analyst to being on Ethan's team?

I studied him when I had the chance, occasionally glancing up when everyone else was looking down. He was familiar with every person on the list, and if I remembered correctly, his name had come up with the secretary's a time or two. But he had also been the one to go in with Ethan and get me out of the tent, and he had that funny habit of needing to be standing at all time. That was a quirk of being a field agent, always ready to be on the move. And, most noticeably, biceps - as well as all the other muscles I saw now that I had a good look - like that did not come from sitting at a desk all day.

We started working at mid-afternoon, and the sun had long since set way after my condition began to catch up to me. "No, I'm fine," I lied when they asked me if I wanted to stop. I kept my head down so they wouldn't see me blinking, trying to moisturize my dry eyes. "We're almost done anyway."

They really couldn't argue with that logic as at that point, between reasoning, Benji's computers, and Brandt's analyst knowledge, we had six suspects left. Still, I could feel their eyes on me, and Benji, of course, made a comment.

"Suit yourself, Love, but if you pass out, we're not carrying you up the stairs again."

"Benji, it wasn't even you the first time," Ethan grumbled.

I began to wonder, my mind easily losing focus and drifting, who had been the one to bring me up. Ethan was no weakling, but Brandt was a few inches taller, so he may have carried me.

About twenty minutes later, we had successfully managed to narrow it down to four people. Benji requested we stop for the night, as his computers were running hot.

Ethan looked to me, and I nodded my okay, ready to collapse. The sound of chairs scooting across the floor filled the kitchen as everyone rose. "We'll finish up tomorrow," Ethan said. Again, I nodded. "You can just take the room you were in before."

I nodded a third time and made my way up the stairs with everyone else, quietly telling them goodnight as I entered the bathroom, which they let me have first. Not wanting to take too long, I quickly washed up and was out barely five minutes later. Jane walked in after I was done, handing me shorts and a tank-top to sleep in as I walked out.

"I really need to get my own clothes," I said ruefully.

"Actually, I packed a whole extra bag for this very reason," she replied. "I just put it in your room. It has some makeup, too, if you want," she added with a grin.

I smiled back. "Your subtle way of telling me that I look like crap."

"Your words, not mine," she told me as she closed the bathroom door.

I trudged into my room and changed. Only as I slid under the covers did I remember my self-reminder to change the sheets. I gave a brief thought to my hygiene predicament before rolling out of bed and checking the clock. It was almost midnight. I readjusted the bed and flopped myself back on it.

I slept on top of the covers.

Yes, a lazy moment for Cass :) As always, review!