Remember I mentioned a suspense-y, thriller-y, action-y chapter to you guys? This is it. It was at a standstill and then I got my winter break and said to myself, "God dammit, Remy, you're finishing this if it costs you your sanity." An anger-induced, coffee-fueled typing session later, I ended up with 20k words.
So this is going to be split into two chapters of 10k words each. I hope you enjoy :)
Title is from 1000 Miles Per Hour by OK Go.
Summary: Tipped off in the middle of the night by Luther that there's a warrant for Will's arrest due to stolen data, Ethan and Will find themselves on the run and chased by the IMF and Interpol both. The fact that there's an actual manhunt for them, plus an APB, complicates matters.
We'll Drive 1000 Miles Per Hour
The phone brings Ethan out of his deep, fatigue-induced sleep. The ringtone is some obnoxious theme song from whatever show Benji's into these days – Ethan can't keep track – and he really considers changing his passcode. Then again, Benji could easily hack into it in a matter of minutes and mess with his ringtone again so there really is no point.
The sound is escalating and he's afraid of waking Will so he brushes his thumb over "Reject" but stops himself at the last minute. The caller is Luther Stickell, and Luther would never call in the middle of the night unless it's an emergency.
Ethan presses the "Accept" button instead, and puts the phone to his ear. "Hello?"
Besides him, Will is still soundly asleep, lying on his side facing Ethan. He's wearing one of Ethan's old shirts, but he left the first few buttons open and now it's pulled down his arm, leaving his shoulder bare. Ethan listens to Luther speak and mutely watches Will sleep.
"Ethan, you there?" Luther asks, sounding impatient. Just as well – Ethan hasn't spoken since the first "hello".
"Yeah, sorry," Ethan manages to whisper, still looking at Will. "Are you sure, Luther? About everything?"
"Would I lie to you?" demands Luther irritably. "Now hurry up. And take care, okay?" He hangs up abruptly.
Ethan puts the phone aside, feeling numb and shocked. He's not even fully awake yet, but he's alert and as always, he's going to do what needs to be done. So he leans forward, gently kisses Will's temple and murmurs, "Wake up, Will."
Normally Will would roll over, mutter about five more minutes, but Ethan's urgent tone gets through to him and so he's up instantly, sitting up and blinking at Ethan. "What's up?" he asks warily. "Everything okay?"
Satisfied now that Will's awake, Ethan gets out of bed and locates his shirt, pulling it on in one fluid, practiced motion. "No, it's not," he replies tersely to Will, who's following his cue and pulling on his jeans over his cotton shorts. "Will, we gotta run, okay? We need to get out of here in under fifteen minutes, and we need to hurry. I'll explain on the way."
Will looks like he wants to ask a thousand questions, but he just nods and begins putting his feet into socks and shoes. "Food?" he asks quietly when he's done, striding over to the dresser and beginning to throw extra clothes into a backpack.
"Yeah, get something nonperishable from the kitchen," instructs Ethan. "Oh, and we'll be leaving our cell phones behind. Don't want to be traced."
Will nods briskly, and heads into the kitchen. Meanwhile, Ethan – now fully dressed – opens the bedside table's drawer, slides back the false bottom and takes the gun he's stored there, shoving it into the back of his jeans. He pockets a couple clips, puts on his jacket and then hides three knives as well, just in case, before grabbing the backpack and moving out of the room. His cell phone is still on the bed where he chucked it in a hurry – he takes it, deletes Luther's call from the log and throws it back on the bed. He knows the phone will be checked, and even though it's moot he doesn't want whoever does the checking to know that it was Luther who tipped him off.
He meets Will in the living-room. Will's holding a bag of food, and Ethan's pleased to see he's also found the time to arm himself under his jacket. "We're taking the Porsche," Ethan tells him as they walk briskly out of the apartment, side by side. "It's faster. We'll ditch it when we're out of the city and find something else."
"Ethan?" Will questions softly. "Are we in danger?"
It's a silly question, one Will already knows the answer to, but Ethan understands that he needs to hear it from someone else. "Yes," he answers as they forego the elevator and begin taking the stairs three at a time. "And we only have seven minutes left. We need to hurry."
They don't speak again until they're in the car and on the road. It's almost half past two and the roads, while not empty, are still much more navigable than they are during rush hours. Ethan drives more recklessly than usual, maneuvering the car like it's a GTA game and not real life. Will remains silent, looking thoughtfully out the window and fidgeting a little. Ethan glances sideways at him occasionally, but doesn't speak until they're out of the city and the roads are emptier.
He puts his foot down on the accelerator and the car gains speed, eating up the road like it's nothing. Behind them, the city lights sparkle and then dim out, before dropping completely out of sight in a few minutes. Will is still quiet. His eyebrows are drawn together in a frown, and he's biting his lower lip while also playing with the hem of Ethan's old white shirt that he's still wearing.
Ethan reaches out and takes Will's hand in his, squeezing it lightly. "Luther called," he explains. "He says there's been an intelligence leak on the mission that we're collaborating with Interpol on. He didn't have time to tell me what exactly the leak was, but he did tell me that Interpol's blaming you, because you're the Chief Analyst. They were going to arrest you. Take you directly from the apartment to HQ. Luther said they're really pissed. He said to run."
"But why?" Will finally asks. "I could have just told them the truth – that I had nothing to do with the leak!"
"Whoever it was wore a mask, Will," Ethan tells him. "It does look like you in the CCTV footage. He also knew your password, and took the documents directly from your computer."
Will blanches at that. "How?" he asks incredulously. "No one knows my password, not even Everett!"
"Maybe a virus, something that records your keystrokes?" Ethan suggests.
"Impossible," Will says at once. "My computer is one of the most secure machines in the entire building, possibly the entire city, Ethan. No one could plant a virus – I'd know the minute they tried to."
"I got nothing else. I'd ask Benji, but we can't contact him or Jane right now," Ethan replies.
"But Ethan," Will tries again, "we could go talk to Brassel. Brassel would know it's not me."
"Will," Ethan says, quite seriously, "Brassel puts the organization above everything else. He suspected me during the entire Davian fiasco. The fact that he knows us well means nothing right now."
Will lapses into silence, and Ethan's heart sinks when the little bit of hope that had been on Will's face disappears. He goes on, gentler this time, "They wouldn't have believed you, Will. They would have tortured the information out of you."
He gets a nod in return. "I – I know," Will says, voice stretched taut. "So – how did you find out about all of this?"
"Luther found out – he was in late for some extra work and he overheard Brassel talking about it on the phone. He was seen, but he got away before they could catch up with him. He called me before ditching his cell phone; told me to grab you and run," Ethan explains.
Will ponders this for a while, and then asks, "Where are we going?"
"Dunmore, West Virginia," answers Ethan. "That's where Luther said to meet up with him. He says he's trying to figure out what the leak is, and who did it."
"Do you think he can?"
"I don't know. Let's hope he can."
After a short, thoughtful silence, Will inquires, "How far is Dunmore?"
"Four hours by car," Ethan tells him. "I imagine they've put our names on No-Fly lists, so we can't go by air."
"The airport would be the first place they'd check anyway," Will adds somewhat absently. "Next they'd access every CCTV camera they can lay their hands on, try to see if we're in any public place. Finally, they'll put an APB out for us, and probably send a team after us."
He's talking without really paying attention to what he's saying, and his grip on Ethan's hand is almost painfully tight. His face is still pale. "Will, we'll be fine," Ethan finds himself saying, though he's not sure he believes it. "We'll meet up with Luther, he'll clear this clusterfuck up, and everything will be back to the way it was."
Will offers Ethan a nod and a strained smile. "I sure hope so. Thank you," he adds.
"Don't mention it."
Will falls asleep a few minutes later, finally taken over by exhaustion. They'd come back from a mission just a week ago only to be thrown face-first into the IMF-Interpol collaboration, which involved spending long hours going over strategy and intel, and dealing with the infuriatingly bureaucratic methods of the higher-ups (mostly Everett and a similar asshole from Interpol). Will is immune to these types, having dealt with them for so long, but Ethan isn't and a lot of outbursts would have occurred if it hadn't been for Will.
It's around 3:15 now and Ethan's well aware that his adrenalin rush is fading and he'll be feeling the symptoms of drowsiness in no time at all. He considers his options – wake Will up and make him drive; drive the rest of the trip and possibly get them both killed in a car crash; or stop at a motel for the night and continue the trip first thing in the morning. The last option looks the most appealing. The APB probably won't be out till morning. They should be safe.
He consults the GPS in the car – the next town in the way is Strasburg, which is approximately another hour away. Ethan suppresses a yawn and turns the radio on, keeping the volume low. Will's slumped in his seat, head resting against the window, looking tense even in sleep. Ethan reaches out, runs his hand down the side of Will's face and, when Will wakes with a start, softly says, "You can push the seat back, honey. If you're gonna sleep, at least be comfortable."
Will nods blearily at him and does as suggested, adjusting the seat so that it's almost completely flat and lying down on his side, facing Ethan. "You look tired," he comments quietly. "Maybe we should stop for the night."
"We will," Ethan informs him. "We're an hour out from Strasburg – once we're there we'll find a motel, sleep for a few hours, and be on our way. Luther's expecting us by noon tomorrow."
"You think this might have been planned?" Will asks with a yawn. "To keep us so busy with plans and briefings and whatnot that we're half-dead from exhaustion, and then frame me? If we're tired we'll make mistakes, and be easier to catch."
"I won't be surprised if that's true," Ethan says. "It would make sense… but it would also mean that the mole is someone who's involved in the IMF-Interpol case."
"Could be anyone from either side," Will points out. "We don't know everyone who's involved."
"Most probably someone from our side, who knows the layout of the building and where your office is, and how to get into your computer," replies Ethan. "Who, though?"
"Let's hope Luther can find out," Will says, and yawns again. "Before any major damage's done," he then adds.
Ethan nods. "Yeah." He glances down at Will. "Go back to sleep, Will. I'll wake you when I find a motel."
"Wake me up if you get too tired to drive," Will says seriously. "Promise me. Don't get all noble and sacrifice your rest so I can sleep."
"I don't get all noble–"
"Spare me, Ethan."
"Fine. I promise." Ethan pretends to be annoyed, but he's fighting a smile and Will knows it too.
It's 4:30 when Ethan finally finds a motel. He wakes Will and checks into the Sunnyside Inn. It's nondescript and shady – typically bad interior decoration, suspicious stains and horrible wallpaper – but they're too sleepy to care. Ethan takes a moment to lock and bolt the door and windows, while Will kicks off his boots and gets into bed. They fall asleep in seconds, Ethan with his gun under his pillow and Will with his knife.
It's Will who wakes up first, and immediately he checks the time. It's 9 o'clock, which means if they forego breakfast and leave immediately they can get to the rendezvous point with time to spare. He puts his hand on Ethan's shoulder and shakes gently. "Ethan? Time to get up. We gotta go, it's nine."
Ethan is instantly awake. "Let me go pee and we're out of here."
"I'll go get the car ready," Will tells him, and heads on outside.
There's only one other car out there, a '96 Mustang that presumably belongs to whoever runs the motel during the night. It'll do perfectly, he thinks, and immediately he gets to work. It doesn't take him long to break into it and get the engine running. He straightens to find three men standing a few yards away, watching him closely.
They're dressed casually, but their closed-off expressions and alert postures indicate that they're either IMF or Interpol. Immediately Will tenses – a fight is pretty much inevitable at this point, and he'd rather have it over with fast. He checks his watch – 9:09 – and then says, keeping his tone casual, "What's up, boys? Anything I can help you with?"
The one in the middle, a tall muscled blond with an orange tan and mean gray eyes, steps forward. "We have orders to arrest you immediately, Mr. Brandt. Things will be much easier if you come quietly."
"Easier for me, or for you?" questions Will, feeling glad he's got his knife in his belt and a gun in the back of his pants.
One of the cronies – Will's dubbed him Red on account of his sunburn – steps forward and says, "Talking won't get you anywhere, Mr. Brandt. If I were you I would cut it out and hand myself in."
"Oh yeah?" challenges Will, his tone switching from neutral to provocative. "Who's gonna make me?"
The third one – Conceited Rich Kid, Will thinks, going by his attire (CRK for short) – says haughtily, "We are," before making the first move.
Will blocks the punch easily, seizing CRK's wrist and throwing him bodily over his head. CRK hits the pavement with a dull thud. Blondie rushes forward, aiming a kick at Will. Will dodges out of the way, countering it with a deft, strategic jab to the side that knocks the wind out of him. Red clearly thinks Will's distracted, but is proved wrong when Will grabs his oncoming fist and twists his arm behind his back, eliciting a strangled yell. He doesn't stop until he hears a faint pop, and then leaves Red alone as he howls over his dislocated shoulder.
CRK's up again and is making a beeline straight for Will, who makes use of CRK's momentum and knocks him flat on his back. He whirls around and punches Red in the jaw, knocking him out, and then kicks Blondie in the nuts, drawing an enraged howl. CRK charges again, but this time when Will knocks him down he doesn't get up again.
It's just Blondie now. Will doesn't know which agency exactly these agents are from, but they're barely a challenge. The tan and sunburn on Blondie and Red respectively lead him to assume that they probably spend most of their time vacationing and not actually doing much work.
He's breathing hard, chest heaving up and down as he takes in great galloping breaths. Will watches him, notices his every move, and prepares himself for the inevitable attack.
Suddenly Blondie lets loose a loud, bloodcurdling roar and lunges forward, aiming directly for Will's neck. The analyst stops thinking (and ain't that a paradox, hardy har har) and lets his body take over – he grabs Blondie's head with both hands and slams it in the hood of the car. There is a crunch as Blondie's nose shatters, and then he passes out in a blur of pain and blood.
As if on cue, Ethan walks out of the motel room, looking irritable. There are large wet spots all over his clothes. "You wouldn't believe," he begins, and stops short when he sees Will standing over three unconscious men. To his credit, he doesn't flinch, blanch, or lose his calm in any way. "I see we've been found," he says, tone neutral.
Will nods uneasily, and begins dragging the limp forms of the three men where they won't be spotted easily. He returns to the car to find that Ethan's got their stuff loaded in the stolen Mustang, and is ready behind the wheel.
"How come you didn't hear all the commotion?" Will asks once they're on the road. He's nervous, but like Ethan maintains a calm demeanor. It's one thing to let his nerves show when it's just him and Ethan, but it's completely another to do so when they're on a mission. Or in the kind of sticky situation that they are in now, for that matter.
"The sink broke," Ethan answers, "along with a couple of pipes. I couldn't hear anything above all the water."
"Good thing the motel was pretty much deserted," mutters Will. "Because they made enough noise to wake the dead."
"Were they Interpol or IMF?"
"If they're IMF, they must be new. I've never seen them before."
"Did they know who you were?"
"They knew my name, yeah, but they didn't seem to know me beyond that. I guess that makes them Interpol; pretty much everyone at the IMF knows who we are. They should be out for a couple of hours or so at the max," adds Will. "Enough for us to be far, far away by the time they report back to their boss."
"But how could they have found us?" Ethan wonders. It's bugging him – neither he nor Will have used any traceable electronics since they fled their apartment, and when they'd checked in there still hadn't been an APB out. "You think they could have been following us?"
"Unlikely," refutes Will at once. "Or they would have caught up to us earlier than that."
"They knew we'd run, though," Ethan muses. "They would have figured it out the moment they identified Luther."
"But they'd have no way of knowing where we went," Will points out. "It's got to be something else."
"We've got to change our route, though," Ethan says. "I don't want to take a risk."
"You said Luther's expecting us by noon today, though," Will replies. "What if we're so late he doesn't think we're coming? Maybe he'll think we've gotten caught."
"If that happens then he'll go on by himself," Ethan tells Will. "He'll still try to figure out who it was that framed you."
"And if he doesn't find them?" asks Will dubiously.
"Let's cross that bridge when we come to it."
"Okay." Will turns on the radio. The previous owner had it set on a rock channel, and Will relaxes minutely as the opening chords of a White Stripes song play. Just to pass the time, he opens the glove compartment and finds a dusty old manual, a couple of bras, and a card that proclaims the car as property of a Mr. Nathan Ludwig, motel manager.
"Shame about the Porsche," Ethan says when the song ends. "It was a good car."
"Pretty good deal for Mr. Nathan Ludwig though," Will says. "He loses his 'Stang and gets a Porsche." He waves the card at Ethan.
Ethan raises an eyebrow in amusement at the glimpse of bra strap he catches when he looks at the card. "Looks like Mr. Ludwig is a right old ladies' man."
"He's 56," Will says. "It's probably his son. These are sports bras marketed for teenagers."
"Maybe he doesn't have a son," Ethan says, just for the sake of passing the time. "Maybe it's his daughter."
"Nope," refutes Will. "I considered that, but." He holds up a discarded Trojan wrapper.
"You win," concedes Ethan. "I do enjoy my daily reminders that you're much, much smarter than I could ever hope to be."
"Aw, you flatter me," grins Will, tucking the bras back in and closing the glove compartment. A Rolling Stones song comes on, and Will turns the volume up again.
"Ludwig could be a pedophile," Ethan says some time later. "It may not be his son after all."
"Why would a teenage girl consent to sex with a man that could easily be her father?"
"I don't know, I'm not an expert on teenagers."
"I'm pretty sure there are plenty of people their own age these girls could have sex with instead. Also, the motel is kind of abandoned. It's creepy. No kid's gonna go there unless they're exceptionally stupid, and especially not with someone so old."
"Could be coercing her? Keeping her bras as a keepsake?"
"It's small-town America. That sort of shit won't stay hidden for long."
"Why are we speculating on the sex lives of people we've never met?"
"Because we're bored?"
"Oh, Will, you're so smart." Ethan grins.
"Oh shut up," replies Will happily.
They pass through a town called Winchester some time later, and stop at a diner only so Will can go to the bathroom. While he's in there, Ethan locates a payphone and dials Benji, keeping an eye on his watch. Three minutes.
"Ethan!" Benji sounds relieved to hear his voice. "Where are you? Jane and I've been so worried!"
"Look, Benji, we don't have much time," Ethan says, speaking fast. "I need you to do me a favor. Go through the surveillance tapes from Will's office from last night, between 1:45 and 2:15 AM. It's not Will, okay, so I need you to find out who it is. Can you do that?"
"Well, yeah, but – Ethan, are you two okay?"
"We're fine," Ethan answers curtly. Two minutes left. "Look, whatever you find, don't try to call either me or Will. Tell Jane. She'll know what to do. After that, brief Declan Gormley and Zhen Lei."
"Okay."
"And Benji? Plant a few red herrings and try to keep the search away from Dunmore, West Virginia."
"Will do, Ethan. You take care."
"You too."
Ethan hangs up with a minute left. Will's back from the bathroom, and through the glass windows of the diner he can see Will order something at the counter. His next call is to a cell phone number belonging to Declan Gormley.
Three minutes.
"Declan, it's Ethan. I need your help, but I don't have much time."
Declan sounds strangely like he's been expecting the call. "Is this about why I saw yours and the Chief Analyst's faces on the news this morning?"
So the APB is out, then. "Yes. Agent Dunn will contact you in some time and explain everything. All I need you and Zhen to do is to keep your cover. Just like Rabbit's Foot, okay?"
"What's happened? Why is there an APB out for you?" asks Declan, immediately alert.
"Benji will explain," Ethan replies tersely. One and a half minute. "Don't worry though, Will and I are fine."
"Will?"
"Yeah, he's with me."
"Oh, right. All right, Ethan, you take care. Zhen and I will handle it."
"Thanks." One minute.
"Don't mention it. Oh, and one more thing?"
"What?"
"Lay low, okay? Don't get caught."
"Thanks, Declan, will do. You take care."
"You too."
Thirty seconds. Ethan hangs up. Will emerges from the diner carrying two coffees and two brown bags with grease spots on them.
"Brunch," he explains. "We can't keep running on fumes."
"That'll have to do till we get to another town," Ethan tells him. "Declan says they've got the APB out."
"Shit," curses Will. "Guess we're gonna have to hurry now."
They switch driving duty at Augusta, after they've crossed the state line. The radio's going on at low volume while Ethan catches some sleep. It's an old Mustang and the seat doesn't go down the way the Porsche's seats did, so Ethan's leaned against the window, dozing fitfully.
Will reaches out and rests a hand on Ethan's knee, and keeps it there as he drives. He can't even begin to fathom how many similar situations Ethan must have been in. That was different though – Ethan had managed to get through because something big had been at stake.
Now, though – he doesn't have to. Will is perfectly aware that Ethan doesn't have to be involved at all. This is, strictly speaking, Will's problem. It's his career, possibly his life, on the line. Ethan can easily walk away and claim innocence.
But he's just not wired that way. Will smiles to himself. Ethan would rather die a thousand deaths than not help out someone who needs it. And he would go through hell a million times before abandoning someone he cares about.
He leans sideways and softly kisses Ethan's cheek before turning his attention back to the road. Ethan doesn't wake up, which is testament to how tired he is.
When all this is over, thinks Will, he and I are getting into bed and sleeping for a week.
It's 2 in the afternoon when Will gets back on the road to Dunmore, the one they'd been originally going on. Ethan's awake now, staring dully out the window. It's been two hours since they were supposed to meet Luther. Uneasily he wonders what Luther's up to, and if Interpol or IMF have caught up with him.
He's been thinking as he drives, and it hits him suddenly. "Ethan," he says, and Ethan jerks away from the window to look at him.
"What is it?"
"I figured out how they found us."
Ethan's eyes widen. "How?"
"It's so simple, I can't believe I didn't think of it before," Will says rapidly. "They'd bugged the Porsche. That's how they knew which road we took and where we stopped. No one's followed us the past few hours because they don't know where we are now."
"They could just be following the road," Ethan points out warily.
"True, but they have no way of knowing where we're going," Will answers.
"The bug could've picked up our conversations."
"If the car had been broken into, we'd know, thanks to Benji and his high-tech burglar alarms," Will reminds him. "The bug was on the outside."
Ethan relaxes a tiny bit. "Thank God for small favors, then."
"Yeah." Will offers him a smile, and squeezes his hand. "We should be in Dunmore in one and a half to two hours."
"I wonder where Luther's at," Ethan says. "And Benji and Jane, for that matter."
"Probably hard at work," Will replies. He's feeling optimistic for the first time in hours, probably because he's figured the bug issue out, and it makes him feel one step closer to figuring the rest out too. "We'll be fine, Ethan, just you see."
Ethan nods. "As soon as we figure out who the mole is, we can put a stop to all this mess."
There's a silence, during which Will concentrates on the road and Ethan goes back to looking out the window. Then Will asks, "Why do you think Brassel is after us, though? He knows us better than that."
"True, but he's got to take the chance that he might be wrong about us," Ethan replies. "But you know what I think? I think he knows it's not you. He trusts you. He's just going along with it so that they can find the real mole and he can rub it in their faces that they were wrong about us."
Will smiles at the thought. "Well, to be fair they're not at fault, Interpol," he says. "They don't know us personally."
"That's true, I suppose," concedes Ethan. "Want me to drive for a bit?"
"No, that's fine. You take your rest. Do you think Luther's still in Dunmore?"
"I've rested enough. Luther's good at hiding. If he wants he can stay there for quite some time, despite the APB."
"No, you've nowhere near rested enough. And that doesn't answer my question, Ethan."
"I have, too, rested enough. And I don't know, Will. I'm just hoping he is."
"Just don't fall asleep on me. And you know what they teach every new recruit, right? Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong."
"Yeah, but there's no reason to believe that. Sometimes things turn out okay."
"Yeah." There's another silence. Then Will says, softly, "Talk to me. Not about our situation – we've already discussed everything we know. Talk to me about something else."
"What do you want to hear about?" asks Ethan. He moves away from the window and closer to Will.
Will shrugs. "I don't know. Tell me a story. Tell me something I haven't heard before."
Ethan takes Will's free hand. "Do you wanna hear about when I was in the Army?"
"Yeah. Okay."
For the rest of the journey Ethan talks softly to Will, tells him about the bygone times when he was still naïve and idealistic, when things weren't so complicated and the world wasn't so hard. Will listens intently, rarely interrupting save for to ask a question or laugh at a funny comment. They don't let go of each other's hands.
They reach Dunmore at 4, having stopped only once along the way to switch seats. Ethan locates the motel Luther had spoken of, and parks the car in the lot. They grab the bags and walk up to Room 24, where Ethan knocks to the beat of Smoke on the Water.
The door opens a crack, and Luther's eye peers out at them. "What did you tell me about Lindsey Farris during the Davian mission?" he asks suspiciously, and Ethan knows he's got a gun pointed at them through the narrow space.
"That she was like my little sister," he replies calmly. "It's us, Luther."
"How do I know that's Will?" demands Luther.
"Trust me when I say I have my ways of knowing," Ethan replies with a sly grin. "Take my word for it." For good measure, he slides a hand under Will's shirt, resting it on the small of his back. Will reddens, but goes along with it.
Luther grunts his assent. "All right, then. Come on in." He opens the door wider and steps aside. Ethan and Will enter, after looking around carefully to see if anyone is watching.
"You're late," Luther says gruffly. He walks over to the small table in the kitchen and sits down, putting his gun on the tabletop. Will and Ethan dump their bags on one of the twin beds, and seat themselves – Will at the table, and Ethan on the bed.
"We were found in Strasburg," Ethan tells Luther. "The Porsche was bugged on the outside. Interpol, we think. We took the longer route just in case."
"Are you sure you weren't followed?" Luther asks.
"Absolutely," Will answers. "The car we were in was stolen. The road was deserted, no one but us. No choppers or planes overhead; we were both keeping watch."
Luther nods. "There's stuff in the fridge, if you're hungry."
"We've got some food," Ethan says, but Will's already opened the fridge door.
He makes three PB&J sandwiches, one for each of them, and when he sits down again he asks, "So what happened? Ethan's already explained the basics to me; did you find anything new yet?"
Luther shakes his head, looking irritated at the entire scenario. "No, I didn't. I assume you contacted your team?"
"Yes," Ethan tells him. "And Declan and Zhen."
"Why them?"
"This is similar to Rabbit's Foot. I thought they could help Benji and Jane."
Luther nods, and then sighs. "It's definitely a shitty situation."
"We think it's someone from our side," Will tells Luther, half his sandwich gone. "Someone who would have known their way around, and where my office was."
"Did they dust for fingerprints?" asks Ethan, and takes a bite.
"They probably did, just to follow procedure, but there's no point," Luther replies. "The perp wore gloves. You can see it in the footage."
Will takes a deep breath, and then lets it out slowly. "How does the perp know my password, though? I don't get it."
One thing Ethan knows – if Will doesn't understand something, there's a good chance no one else will. Except maybe Benji, but Benji's not here right now.
"Hidden camera inside your office is the likeliest idea," Luther suggests.
"There's nothing in my office that could hide a camera with the lens pointing to my keyboard," Will replies. "It's designed that way."
"Who else knows your password?"
"Just me. No one else. I didn't even tell Everett or Ethan, the two likeliest candidates if I ever was going to tell someone."
"Doesn't your computer require biometric data along with a password?"
"Biometrics can be faked," Ethan replies. "Not easily, but then again, whoever we're dealing with is quite smart. They probably found a way."
"Son of a bitch," mutters Luther. He picks up his sandwich and begins eating grumpily.
"So what now?" asks Will. He takes three cans of soda from the fridge, throwing one to Ethan, handing one to Luther, and opening the last one for himself.
"We lay low, and wait for the team to do something, I guess," Ethan replies. He hates this, hates being useless, hates having to sit and wait and hope for the best. He needs to do something, to be constantly in motion or risk going insane.
"They've got no way of contacting us," Luther reminds Ethan.
"We'll call in every few hours, but keep it under three minutes," Ethan decides. "And use a different number every time."
"We could call now?" Will suggests. "I mean," he adds, waving an arm around and nearly knocking Luther's sandwich out of his hands, "we've got nothing else to do."
"Let's give it a few hours," Ethan says.
"Do me a favor and get rid of the car in the meanwhile," Luther tells them. "It's bothering me; they can trace it here."
Will nods and gets up. "Let's go, Ethan."
They return to find Luther on the phone. "Okay… you sure? All right. Okay. Thanks, kid." He checks his watch and hangs up. "Two and a half minutes."
"Benji?" asks Will.
Luther nods. "Sit down. We need to talk."
Will and Ethan glance at each other, and then take seats at the table. Luther's seated on the edge of the bed, tense and alert. "What is it?" asks Ethan. "What did Benji say?"
Luther ignores him and looks straight at Will. "What's your clearance level?"
"Uh… the highest there is," Will answers, nonplussed. "I'm Chief Analyst, remember?"
"And yours?" Luther asks Ethan.
"Same as Will's," answers Ethan. "Why?"
Luther looks from Will to Ethan, and back. "Okay, so Benji's been doing some digging. He found the information that was leaked, but not who did it… yet. We've been going through everyone who has high enough security clearance to know about the mission, but not high enough to know the actual details. Most probably it's someone from that group."
Ethan nods, and Will asks, "So, what was the stolen data?"
"Mission details," Luther responds. "All the practical stuff - which team was assigned where, what they would be doing... the kind of stuff that'll make it really easy to fuck up a mission and get someone killed."
"Shit." Will sums it up quite eloquently. "So - what now?"
"Well, now we focus on finding out who it was," Luther replies, "and also what mission they're planning on fucking up." He gives both Ethan and Will a pointed look.
Interpreting the look correctly, Ethan says, "We weren't given any mission details, actually. I don't even know if one was planned for us." He looks at Will.
"There wasn't," Will answers, "so whatever the perp was looking for... has to be something else. Or – the information was planted on my computer."
"But when?" insists Luther.
"Well, I guess that's what we have to find out," Will says, a determined edge to his jaw.
The three of them spend the rest of the day hunched over a sheaf of papers, scrawling notes and theories on it and scribbling down flowcharts, trying to figure out something, anything. Benji reports nothing new. Declan says he might be on to something but he isn't sure yet.
"We're getting out of here first thing tomorrow morning," Luther says as they prepare for bed. He settles himself in one of the beds and kicks his shoes off. "Can't stay for too long, someone's bound to come looking."
Ethan and Will manage to squeeze together in the second bed, taking care not to accidentally shove the other one off. Finally they settle in a comfortable position. "Night," Will whispers with a yawn, and pulls the covers to his side.
Ethan tugs a little bit until the covers are evenly over them both, and then replies, "'Night, Will. Don't worry, we'll find whoever it was."
But Will's already asleep.
"I hate this," states Luther the next morning, in the car. He's driving, with Ethan up front with him and Will stretched out in the back, scrawling notes. "I hate just running and waiting for someone else to do something."
"Join the club," mutters Will, and scratches something off.
"When do we call Benji?"
"In an hour or so. Around ten-ish."
"I'm hungry," Ethan remarks. Will hands him a packet of potato chips and puts his notes aside, leaning forward.
"It's been enough time," he says. "Benji's bound to have come up with something. And Jane, Declan and Zhen aren't the kind of people to sit around, either."
"Your optimism inspires me," says Luther drily.
"He's not wrong, though," Ethan says consolingly.
"Either way, if there's nothing else to be done I'm marching back to DC and kicking some ass until we've got this shit cleared," declares Luther.
"Count me in," says Will, and snatches some chips from Ethan's fingers.
He calls Declan from a payphone in the next town they stop at. "I've found out how they got into your computer," Declan tells him, and immediately Will perks up.
"How?"
"Tracked your keystrokes," Declan says. "It wasn't a software. Really simple, actually – whoever it was just put invisible ink over the keys, and later looked over to see what keys were disturbed."
"But I type a lot," Will says, nonplussed. "How could the perp possibly know–"
"You also lock and unlock your computer a lot," Declan interrupts. "Whenever you leave the office for so much as a bathroom break, actually. All the perp had to do was look and see which keys showed most signs of disturbance."
"That... wow. I feel like an idiot," comments Will, frowning.
"We all do," Declan tells him. "Now look – this person was obviously smart enough to find a way into your computer, virtually undetected, with a method that would not only get him the password, but would also get him your fingerprints. Voice data isn't hard to fake. Whoever it is definitely knows what they're doing. I think we might actually be underestimating them, to be honest."
"I know what you mean," sighs Will. "I'm on it."
"Okay. Take care." Declan hangs up. Will waits a minute or so, and then dials Benji.
"Declan's figured out how the perp got into my computer," he tells his friend.
"Yeah I know, he and Zhen had some fun with your office this morning," Benji informs him. "Jane's working with intel right now, they're looking into the stolen files and mission details. Everett's an idiot, keeps insisting the missions must go on, and frankly, I'm worried. I'm going over the security tapes right now, again. But you know something funny, Will?"
"Yeah?"
"I've checked the logs and... no one logged in or out, you know? Except Luther, but he was only there for work. It's all on the cameras. So I checked backwards and no one logs in at that time. Whoever it was is probably someone who's got a habit of staying late at night for work, sometimes overnight. There are no log out times."
"That's... interesting," murmurs Will. "Did you check if there's anyone who doesn't log in, in the mornings?"
There's the sound of typing, and then Benji says, "Everyone logs in."
"Who doesn't log out?"
Some more typing. "That's... weird," Benji says a second later, sounding perplexed. "According to this, every employee who's on your floor logs in and out at the correct times. The office should be empty at that time of night."
"So whoever it was wasn't supposed to be there," summarizes Will, sighing in frustration. They're right back where they started.
"Obviously," mutters Benji. "Camera's been looped, security tampered with, information stolen – and we got no bloody idea about anything."
It's getting dangerously close to three minutes, so Will utters a hasty goodbye and hangs up. He meets Luther and Ethan back at the car, and updates them on the information as they drive out of town.
"Okay, let's go through what we know," Luther says from the backseat when Will's done. "It's an inside job, done by someone who knows what they're doing, but more importantly, knows their way around Will's floor. So it's someone from intel."
"Yeah," Ethan confirms. "They've somehow managed to get into Will's office undetected, steal data and make it look like it was him. That means it's someone whose body type is similar to Will's."
"That could be any number of agents!" Will argues. "Seriously, we're right back where we started, we're no closer to – wait."
"What?" ask Luther and Ethan simultaneously.
"Benji said whoever it was probably has a habit of working late," Will says slowly, realization dawning on him. "To my knowledge, only a couple of people stay really late. Director Brassel... and Fritz Everett."
"You think it might be Everett?" asks Luther skeptically. "I mean, I know the man's an asshole, but–"
"No, think about it!" Will interjects, turning around to look at Luther. "He was practically a nobody before he became Secretary. Right before the entire Moscow fiasco, he started to rear his ugly head, get closer to the previous Secretary. Suddenly his name was on all the intel reports, you know? Especially those dealing with terrorist organizations. He's the one who suggested the team-up with Interpol, which I know makes it look unlikely that he'd sabotage it, but – that's why he's insisting the missions have to go on! And if they go to hell because of bad intel, he can always turn around and blame it on me. And they will go to hell, let me tell you. Like, people will die." All of a sudden, it makes sense.
Luther still looks skeptical. "Are you sure? Because if we turn around, barge into DC and claim the Secretary did all of this, and we turn out to be wrong – well, I'm not as smart as you but even I could tell you it won't end well."
"I know," Will says emphatically, "and trust me, I wouldn't have followed the thought if it didn't make sense."
"But why would Everett do all of this?" questions Ethan, not taking his eyes off the road.
"I don't know, why do psychos do anything?" answers Will. "He's probably in with the terrorists, got a share in the loot maybe? I dunno. Probably they're paying him off to ensure they're safe. Maybe he wasn't always in with them, maybe he got corrupted. A criminal past wouldn't have slipped past IMF's best, though, so it's probably a recent thing. Maybe they're threatening him. I don't know. But whatever it is – he's got the means, and the motive if we can find it."
"How do you propose we find it?" asks Luther, though from his expression it's obvious he already knows what the answer's going to be.
"We go back to DC." Ethan's jaw is squared and there is a determined look back in his eyes. He takes the next U-turn, and they don't look back.
Ethan calls Jane in the evening and updates her on what they've come up with. "Listen, you need to get into Everett's apartment," he tells her. "Find anything you can that may help. Old records, bank details, his hard drive... anything. He's probably made it a bit harder than that to find his details, but it's worth a try."
"Got it," she tells him. "I'll take Zhen with me."
"Good, put Declan on getaway," Ethan instructs. "Keep Benji on stand-by, and the minute you find anything that can be traced digitally, you pass it on to him. Stay safe, and don't get caught. I'll call you around two in the morning for an update."
"Will do," she promises, and hangs up.
"I really hope this isn't a dead end, or worse, a trap," mutters Luther.
Will punches him lightly in the shoulder. "Relax," he tells him. "Whatever it is, it's something."
Luther glowers and doesn't answer.
Luther and Will are both asleep when Ethan calls Jane, Luther snoring in the backseat and Will slumped against the front passenger side's window. Ethan takes care to keep his voice low and not disturb either of them. "What's the update?"
"I didn't find any hard copies that could be construed as suspicious, but there wasn't enough time to go through his computer. He has a lot of files. So Zhen copied everything from his hard drive into a flash disk, and we planted a bug that'll pick up everything he says and send it to Benji. Got out clean, nothing to worry about."
Ethan lets out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Glad to hear that," he tells her, relieved. "Okay, now you guys lay low, all right? You're probably under suspicion just because you're connected to us. If anyone at HQ catches wind of what you're up to, things could get really bad. Get Benji to monitor Everett carefully, and the rest of you try to keep an eye on him in the office."
"All right, Team Leader," Jane replies, and he can hear her smile. "You three take care too, okay?"
"Will do," he promises. "Say hi to everyone from me."
"Yeah, do the same for me. Bye, Ethan."
"Take care, Jane."
He puts his phone down. Will stirs a little, and for a moment it looks like he's going to wake, but then he settles again and stops moving. In the backseat, Luther snores away.
Ethan checks the map with one hand still on the steering wheel. It'll take until mid-morning for them to get to DC, provided they drive all night. He's taken over from Luther, and it'll be Will's turn to drive in a couple of hours. Ethan can feel tiredness creeping on, but he pushes it away, locks it up in the back of his mind. He's gone without sleep for longer, and he's not going to let some measly exhaustion fuck this up for them.
He turns on the radio on low. He doesn't know what song is playing, but it's mostly guitar and piano and it sounds good. He listens to it until it ends, and is expecting something just as nice to play next, but the next song starts off with a blaring guitar solo and Will and Luther start awake.
"What the fuck was that?" bellows Luther once he's made sure there's no threat. He puts his gun back under the seat where he'd stowed it just in case. "I nearly took your boyfriend's head off!"
"Sorry," Ethan says with a sheepish grin. "It's just the radio, go back to sleep."
"Do a damn fool thing like that again, and I will shoot you," warns Luther, and lies back down. In a few minutes he's snoring again.
"You okay to drive?" Will asks once Luther's settled.
"I'm fine, yeah," Ethan answers him. "Sorry about that, by the way. Radio."
"It's all right," Will says, and then yawns.
"Go back to sleep, you're obviously tired," Ethan tells him. "I'll wake you up when it's your turn."
"Yeah, 'kay," Will says, and shifts until he's comfortable again. He glances at the radio displaying the time, and asks, "You talked to Jane?"
"Yeah, I did," Ethan says, and summarizes everything she'd said. "If Everett so much as takes a shit, we'll know," he finishes.
Will makes a face. "Not sure I want to know that."
Ethan laughs.
"Hey," Will says a moment later, when the light-hearted moment has passed. "You – you don't think we're on the wrong track with Everett, do you?"
"No, I don't," Ethan assures him. "Why the self-doubt, Will? Do you think we're on the wrong track?"
"No," Will says. "I just want all of this to be over, and I don't feel up to any more surprises."
Ethan grins. "I know how that feels. When all this is over I'm just–"
"Getting in bed and sleeping forever," completes Will. "Me too. Just after I punch whoever's responsible for putting us through this shit."
"Oh, hell yeah," Ethan replies fervently, grin widening. "Let's just hope Benji finds something, and we can put an end to all this shit."
Will nods, and yawns again. "Yeah," he says, tone becoming sleepy. "Look – you wake me up when it's my turn, okay?"
"Will do," Ethan promises. "Get some rest, now. I have a feeling we'll need it."
They roll into DC with the mid-morning sun shining into their eyes. Luther grumbles something about packing sunglasses next time, and Ethan quips back at him. Will adds a comment, and the light-hearted banter continues hiding the fact that they're all a little nervous but mostly determined, steeling themselves for what's to come.
"Okay, what now?" Luther asks presently.
"We're going to hide out at Benji's," Will replies. "They'll be watching the place, but I think we can get in and out if we're careful. Benji says they've got a couple of newbies on his place. Over there we'll go over whatever data he's got on Everett, and decide on a course of action then."
"Great, more lying low," mutters Luther.
"Better than being arrested and jailed forever," points out Ethan.
The rest of the half-hour drive to Benji's is silent. They get caught in traffic for a while, but Will manages to take a side road that cuts down their ETA considerably.
Getting up to Benji's apartment without being noticed by the IMF agents stationed there is a piece of cake. Literally all they have to do is distract them – Ethan pays off a woman to scream burglary and tells her it's for a prank on a friend. Both agents run off to help her at once, and Luther and Will sneak in with Ethan right on their heals.
"Idiots," scoffs Luther. "I'm gonna be talking to Brassel about the fools he's got masquerading as agents."
"You do that," Ethan mutters, as Will knocks on Benji's door.
"Who is it?" yells Benji from inside.
"It's us!" Will yells back. "Open the door, Benji!"
The door opens a crack and a blue eye peeks out. "How do I know it's you?" he asks suspiciously.
"I jumped into an oven, essentially based on nothing but your word that I wouldn't be cut to ribbons and toasted," Will says deadpan, leveling a flat look at Benji.
"Right, okay. Ethan?" The little shit doesn't even try to hide his grin.
"You helped me with Julia in China."
"Luther?"
"You wouldn't stop ranting about how The Last of Us destroyed your life," Luther tells him. "When I told you not to get emotional over a game, you actually started crying."
Benji colors a little and mutters "I did not", but he opens the door and lets them through. The minute Will's inside he finds himself crushed into a tight hug. "I missed you!" Benji exclaims, then moves to bestow the same bone-cracking embrace on Ethan.
"It has literally been just a couple of days," Will tells him, but he's smiling. "How've you been?"
"Absolutely miserable," reports Benji, letting go of Ethan. He moves towards Luther, who immediately escapes into the bathroom. "He thinks he'll be safe there, but he won't," remarks Benji, and then continues, "I've spent the last two days living on Red Bull and Doritos, and no one understands my pain about The Last of Us. You're the only one who did, and you weren't there."
"They just don't know," consoles Will. "When all this is over, I will sleep for a thousand years and when I wake up we can have a marathon."
"Fuck yeah we will," Benji declares. "I need to get that game out of my system. It's ruining me. This isn't even funny anymore. I finished it while you were gone, by the way."
Will almost drops the glass of water he's just gotten himself. "You did?"
"Yeah," nods Benji. "Did you know Joel–"
"Shut up," interjects Will. "No spoilers. Don't you say a damn word, Benji, or I will end you."
Luther chooses that moment to exit the bathroom, and is immediately hugged by Benji. "Why," he grumbles, even as he gingerly pats Benji's back.
"He likes hugging," offers Ethan, trying and failing to suppress his laughter.
Benji lets go when Luther starts threatening bloody murder, and they settle in the living-room. "It feels so good to have an actual couch under my butt," sighs Will happily, lying down and promptly placing his feet into Ethan's lap.
"Your feet smell," Ethan complains, and gets a toe in the nostril for his trouble.
"Cute," mutters Luther. "Let's talk about the important shit, shall we? Then we can move on to Will's toes."
"Which don't smell," Will adds.
"Whatever, kid. Benji, what've you got?"
"A lot, actually," Benji says. He waits until he's got everyone's attention, and then says, "It's a lot. I'll just tell everyone together, okay? Jane, Zhen and Declan should be here soon. Why don't you people get something to eat in the meanwhile?"
"Good idea," Ethan says and gets up, Will's feet falling out of his lap. He heads over to the fridge and opens it, rummaging for something to make breakfast with. Will gets up too, and heads for the cabinets.
"There's no coffee," he says some moments later, nonplussed.
"I don't like the taste," Benji says. "There's a lot of tea, though, if you want it."
"Tea won't do much for my caffeine withdrawal," Will complains.
"Well, it's all I've got, so deal with it," shrugs Benji. He pulls his laptop towards himself and opens the lid, clacking madly at the keys a second later.
"You've gone without coffee for all this while, just wait some more," Ethan suggests, emerging from the fridge holding three eggs and a loaf of bread.
"You disappoint me," Will tells Benji, but there's no sting to the words. Benji just smiles sweetly at him and goes back to his typing.
Luther sidles in next to him. "What are you doing?" he asks curiously.
"Oh – preparing a slideshow," Benji tells him. "It'll be easier to get the information across that way."
"I see," replies Luther, raising an eyebrow. "And what, we're all going to crowd around your computer to see it?"
"'Course not, I've got HDMI," dismisses Benji, pointing to the TV. "We'll watch it on that."
"I know what HDMI is," Luther says redundantly, but Benji's not paying attention anymore.
Benji's phone rings just as Ethan, Will and Luther finish up their breakfast. "Hello," he says, and then, "What, really? Come on – are you sure? Okay then. Be careful."
"That was Jane," he reports, hanging up. "Everett's got them all wrapped in paperwork. He's not letting them leave the office, they won't be here until after 5."
"What do we do in the meanwhile, then?" asks Will.
"And why's Everett asking them to do paperwork?" adds Ethan.
"Well, he's the Secretary, isn't he? He probably just dumped a shitton of mission overviews on them and asked them to look through," Benji reasons.
"Great," groans Luther. "So we're stuck here for a few hours."
"Well, I'm going to bed," declares Ethan. "Don't you dare wake me if it's not an emergency." He dumps the plates in the sink and stretches. "Will, you coming?"
"What – yeah," Will says, following Ethan to Benji's guest room. Behind them he can hear Benji ask "Wanna play Call of Duty?" and Luther answer "Hell no, Need for Speed."
"They're gonna be occupied, looks like," he comments, and Ethan grins.
"Yeah, good for them. It'll get Luther's mind off things."
Benji's guest room is rarely ever used, and so they have to dust everything down. Will finds a drawer full of sheets and starts stripping the bed while Ethan replaces the pillowcases with cleaner ones.
"I can't believe we have to work just for some sleep," Will grouches, spreading the sheet on the bed. He starts tucking in the corners on one side while Ethan does the other.
"Such is life," Ethan says with a dramatic sigh, then offers Will a smile. "Still – it's a proper, clean bed and we have a good few hours until we have to be awake. Let's just make the most of it, yeah?"
"Yeah," concedes Will. They change the comforter's cover in silence, and then Will kicks off his shoes, toes off his socks and gets rid of his pants. "If you hog the sheets I will kill you."
"Gee, thanks, good to know how much you care," snarks Ethan as he places his shoes and socks neatly to one side, and folds his pants. "And do something about your feet."
"They're not cold," protests Will, getting into bed.
"No, they're sweaty," Ethan says. "Which is gross." He gets into the other side.
Will digs his toes into Ethan's calf. "They're not sweaty, they're perfectly fine," he says.
"Get your feet off me," Ethan mumbles, even as he turns on his side and throws one leg across both of Will's.
"Rude," comments Will, and pokes Ethan's side.
"Stop poking me and go to sleep."
"You go to sleep," Will replies maturely, but wriggles as close as he possibly can without throwing Ethan off the bed anyway. Within minutes they're both asleep.
No reviews = sad me = late update. Just sayin' ;)
Love,
Remy x