Hello again! Thanks again for all of your reviews. This chapter is less cliffy than the previous ones...I figure you're mad enough at me already about that last one ;) Please don't kill me.

Enjoy!

Chapter Four– Coffee Talk

Coffee….mmm. I smell coffee….must go to the coffee….

Jane opened her eyes to the rich aroma wafting through the living room. She'd know that scent anywhere. There were some days after missions that coffee was her only motivation to move, much less get out bed.

Then two things flashed through her mind.

One, she was at the meeting house, the little place near Langley where the team often met to plan missions and, sometimes, get totally smashed and run an Indiana Jones marathon. She recognized the lumpy secondhand couch beneath her, the scent of Doritos and laughter permanently soaked into the material. She also knew where she was because a), someone not herself was making coffee, and b), since she had absolutely no social life whatsoever outside of the IMF (except that one-night stand last year and inviting her friend Gabriella up from Culpeper every now and again), the only people doing so would be Benji, Ethan or Brandt–

Ethan. The plane. Dead– no, missing.

Brandt, slumped against the side of a building.

Jane sat bolt upright as the events of last night came avalanching down on her. She looked frantically over to the couch adjacent to hers, where they'd put Brandt last night. The sheets were rumpled, the multiple blankets pushed to the end, and its occupant nowhere to be seen. She looked down to see Benji still asleep on the floor, and her anxiety eased somewhat. She threw off her own blankets and swung off the couch, her bare feet cold on the floor. Pulling a fleece over her T-shirt and PJ pants to ward off the winter chill, she followed the scent that had roused her.

The meeting house was actually an apartment, with a small bedroom, a living room, bathroom, and kitchen. It was under Ethan's name; it had remained unused while he was in prison. After Cobalt, the four of them started gathering there so frequently that Jane kinda forgot it was in reality Ethan's only home. It just felt so right for them to all crash there, and Jane secretly believed Ethan loved not being there alone.

Jane winced. It had felt right. Now without their leader the place seemed empty. In retrospect it probably wasn't the best idea to come here, but Jane had always trusted her instinct. This was the closest thing they had to home. When they'd hauled Brandt into the car last night, she hadn't known where else to go.

Speaking of which…

Jane padded into the kitchen to find him leaning against the counter, waiting as the coffee dripped into the carafe. She stopped.

Brandt still looked terrible, and he wasn't even hypothermic anymore. His face was paler than normal, throwing the bruising around his right eye from the previous op into sharp relief. His blue eyes were bloodshot and short hair mussed from sleep. He was still wearing the black sweat pants and large gray sweater Jane and Benji had wrestled his comatose form into last night, and his shoulders were slumped from exhaustion. His head was down, back to the counter, cold-burned hands on the edge. He seemed to exude defeat.

Seeing him now made any anger from yesterday drain out of Jane. She had already forgiven him, even before they'd found him, but it was so unlike Brandt to back down at all that seeing him last night and now this morning was pretty shocking, and killed whatever residual resentment was left in her system. Brandt had always been the pessimist of them, the realist, helping check Ethan's single-minded recklessness at time, acknowledging the obstacles ahead but never giving in to them. But he hid things, like all of them, and soon Jane learned the ex-analyst had a sensitive streak the size of Indiana. She felt her face soften.

"Knock, knock," she said quietly.

Brandt's head snapped up. "Jane," he said, his voice hoarse. For a second he looked panicked, like he expected her to start reaming him. "I…"

"…Have coffee," Jane finished for him. "Excellent. Move over."

She went over to the cabinets, chose a pair of mugs, and placed them on the counter next to the coffeemaker. Brandt took the cue and pulled the half-and-half from the fridge. Jane took it and poured a little into the bottom of one of the mugs for herself, knowing Brandt took his black.

They went through the motions, Jane sensing Brandt's total awkwardness and apprehension, and completely ignoring it. There were some things men just didn't understand, Jane had decided. Coffee first, painful conversations second. It was a basic law of nature that heavy subjects of any kind were improved by a warm beverage.

Jane shoved a mug into Brandt's cold hands once she'd filled it. "Here."

Brandt wouldn't meet her eyes. "Thanks." He sipped the steaming liquid gently.

A pause.

Brandt took a sharp breath, then released it. "Jane–"

"Don't worry about it," she interrupted. Brandt opened his mouth to protest, but Jane ran on. "We were both in shock and grieving and we took it out on each other. I'm sorry too."

Brandt looked at her. His face was miserable.

Jane scowled. "Don't do that thing you do. I know you'll just feel guilty about this for the rest of the week, and we have bigger things to worry about. So don't."

"But the things I said–"

"We both said some assholey stuff," said Jane. On an impulse she moved closer and leaned into Brandt, putting her arm around his waist and resting her head on his burly shoulder. She felt him tense momentarily, then relax at the contact. "We're both sorry, it happened, let's just leave it there, okay?"

Brandt was still. Then slowly he nodded. "Okay."

"Okay." Jane rubbed his back, then went back to holding her mug, feeling the warmth glow into her hands. "How do you feel?"

Brandt took another sip. "Honestly? Like I went a few rounds with the Abominable Snowman–and lost."

Jane chuckled. "You look it too."

Brandt rubbed his eyes. "What the hell happened last night, Jane? I just remember running and…" he covered his face with his hand, wincing. "You guys came and got me."

"Yeah," Jane said, quieter. "For some reason you decided it was a good idea to sit outside in twenty-five degree weather in a T-shirt and jeans for God knows how long."

"The last thing I remember was you getting me into the car…" Brandt took his hand from his face and laid it back on the counter. "After that, nothing."

Jane nodded, blowing on her coffee to cool it. She kept her eyes down. "I didn't know what else to do," she said. "This place was closest, and I figured you'd want to wake up somewhere familiar. You were hypothermic, and by the time we got you here, unconscious. Benji and I got you changed and packed you in with hot water bottles and blankets and whatever else we had. After checking to make sure you weren't critical, of course." She brushed the events of the night off lightly, but in truth she had been scared. Seeing Brandt, who was usually so reserved and collected, come unhinged enough to silence his judgment…it rattled her pretty deeply. It didn't help that the guy passed out in her arms from cold and shock minutes later.

"Why…." Brandt's jaw worked. "Why did you even come looking for me?"

Jane rolled her eyes. "We were worried about you, moron."

"But you left, and Benji was headed for the bar. What changed your minds?"

Jane sighed. "After I left you at the base, I drove outside of the city for a while. I needed time, just to…you know. Be quiet. Collect my thoughts. When I started back toward my apartment, I remembered I'd left a clothes bag in my locker at Langley, and since we're going on leave I wanted to have it. I went inside and found your gear on the bench, with your keys and phone still inside. By then it was dark, and I was just slightly less pissed off at you–" a ghost of a smirk appeared on Brandt's face– " and I started to worry. I knew your car and apartment key is on your key ring, and the mental state I left you in…well… " Jane let the sentence finish itself, even as she felt Brandt grimace next to her. She knew him, and he knew she did. Brandt was tough, but he had his scars which opened up every now and again, and when they did, he was vulnerable. Fatigue, grief, guilt, despair, loneliness… for Brandt, the combination could be dangerous. When she found the keys, along with Brandt's good winter jacket he'd worn in to work this morning, she saw the scenario play out in her head. He'd end up locked out of his home, if he even got that far, freezing and too exhausted or dug in to himself to care.

"So I called Benji," she continued. "He was at the bar, but he hadn't actually had anything yet. I told him what I'd found. He agreed you were probably in trouble. He left his car at the bar and we came straight here."

Brandt raised an eyebrow slightly. "How do you know where I live? You've never been over to my place."

Jane raised an eyebrow. "This is Benji we're talking about, Brandt. Have you ever seen the guy without his laptop? He searched you at the bar, we got an address and we came and got you. You know the rest."

"How did he– actually, nevermind. It'll just creep me out." Brandt shifted against the counter. "Thanks," he murmured. "For picking me up. I'm sorry I acted like such an idiot. I don't know what came over me, Jane. It was like I couldn't escape myself no matter how fast I ran."

"Of course we came," she answered calmly. "It's our job. And we're only human, Brandt. We're all entitled to our little shatterings." She pushed away the could-have-beens– if she hadn't forgotten her gym bag, put the pieces together and gotten instead another report from the Secretary the next morning of the death of a team member, this one much closer to home.

For a moment after they just stood in silent camaraderie, draining the last of their mugs and letting the dust settle once again. That was how they worked on this team. If they couldn't forgive, they would never get home.

"So what are your plans?" asked Brandt after a time. "For this week, I mean."

Jane shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "I don't know." She turned and placed her empty mug in the sink. "I hadn't really though that far ahead." Lie. She glanced at her watch. "It's almost nine. Benji told me not to let him sleep in."

Jane went back into the living room. Benji was still sacked out on his bedroll on the floor. He'd told Jane to take the second couch last night because a) she was better with Brandt when he was in one of his moods and she'd hear him if he woke up, and b) Benji talked, quite loudly, in his sleep. Before he'd passed out last night he'd told Jane to get him up if Brandt came to.

She smirked at her techie where he slept, blond hair mussed, one arm tossed over his head, mouth open. She picked up a pillow from her couch and tossed it onto his face, knowing impact was the most effective way of waking Benji up when they weren't on duty. The guy slept like a rock.

The pillow made landfall, and Benji muttered irritably. "Mmm…wha' timesit?"

"Five of nine," said Jane. "Get up. We have work to do."

Benji sat up, rubbing his face. "Work? Why?"

Jane grimaced and looked back to Brandt. She could tell by the set of his face he had already guessed what she was about to say. "Because we're going to find the people who went after Ethan–before they come after us first."

()()()()()

"I still don't understand," protested Benji as he shoved clothes into a duffel bag. "What makes you think we've been targeted again?"

"Think about it, Benji," said Brandt. "We've been a team with Ethan now for how long?" He held up a fake ID from where he was sorting passports on the kitchen table. "Do I have to be Richard Cranium this time?"

Jane snorted from the laptop. "I'll leave that up to you." She clicked, booking their flight to England for that evening. Amazing how far a little government clearance could get you in the airline industry. They were flying civilian lines this time; they all agreed to avoid jets for a while. "Benji, Ethan was the only agent of any experience on that plane. You saw it yourself when you hacked into the report; the other two guys were brand new. There was only one target and you know it." She closed the laptop.

"But what does that have to do with us?" asked Benji. "I mean, yeah, we're a team, but Ethan was an agent long before we came along to join him. This could have been anyone, someone from his past maybe."

"Yeah," said Brandt, "or, it could have been someone new, someone we don't know. Don't you think that if someone wanted to bump off Ethan Hunt they'd choose a more failsafe way then blowing up the plane he's on?"

Benji looked put out. "That sounds pretty failsafe to me. Flames, falling, explosions–"

"Look, the point is we're probably on the list too," interrupted Jane. She shoved the laptop into its sleeve and handed it back to Benji. "This is the first mission in nearly a year Ethan's done without us. Whoever wanted him dead knew he would be on that plane, knew his schedule." Jane raised her eyebrows at Benji. "Which means, if they knew Ethan's itinerary, they know ours too. Therefore, we are at risk. And we can't just wait around here to be hit as well."

Benji nodded slowly. He pulled a med kit out of the cabinet and tossed it onto his duffel. "Okay. And we're not telling the IMF any of this…why?"

Brandt stood and tossed a passport to each of them. "Whoever bombed Ethan's jet had to have a contact on the inside to know the details of the return trip. Since we don't know who that is–"

"We can't trust anyone," grumbled Benji. "Which means, of course, no backup, no intel, no extraction, no help from the agency at all. Peachy. Just one more question, why are we going to England again? Not that I'm complaining of course."

Brandt and Jane exchanged a look. Jane had questioned the wisdom of their decision, but they couldn't stay here either. "Ethan's last mission was in London," said Jane. "From what we hacked, it had to do with smashing an arms dealing ring. If Ethan pissed someone off and we're going to find out anything about it, we may as well start where he left off."

"If we get that far," murmured Brandt. "Personally I don't think we will."

Jane scowled. "What do you mean?"

Brandt held up his hands. "I'm not trying to be negative. What I mean is that one of two things is gonna happen. Option a, we get to London, dig around, and find nothing. It's possible, but judging by how serious these guys have come off as, not very probable. Option b, and what I feel is more likely considering the evidence, we get to London and all hell breaks loose, as it seems to consistently do for us. Whoever wanted to kill Ethan is gonna want to kill us too, if they don't already."

Benji sat down heavily on one of the kitchen stools. "Do you really think we've been targeted?" he asked quietly.

Jane leaned against the counter. "Yes. And if we have, our week is about to get a lot more stressful."

Brandt hooked his thumbs in the pocket of his sweatpants. "There's another thing. These guys are bombers. They have insiders. I mean, maybe we're not on the hit list, but when we go to London and look for these guys we will be. This is going to be our most isolated mission since Ghost Protocol, and that time we knew what we were up against." Brandt looked at Benji and Jane. "If either of you want to back out now and not go after this…if I'm not too bold in saying it, I think Ethan would understand. I do."

Jane shook her head. "You know I'm in. I'd rather be going out to face the threat than wait for it to come to me."

They both looked to Benji.

The Brit raised his eyebrows. "Are you kidding? One, we're going to the UK, and I'm from England. I did my initial training in London. You're gonna need me over there. And two, if you think you're just going to take off without me you're wrong. I have no life anyway, what will I do with this week if you two aren't here? I'd much rather go and try to take down a shadow group of possible terrorists, for sure. No, I'm coming with you, obviously." He nodded sharply.

Brandt nodded as well. "Okay." He kept nodding slowly, eyes distant.

The three were silent. It was just another mission, Jane reminded herself. Just another mission, only this one was the first in a long time they would be doing without their leader.

"You forgot option C," Benji said at length. Jane and Brandt looked up at him.

The techie's eyes were bright with a sudden defiance. "Option C, Brandt. We go, we find Ethan and we get him the hell out of there and worry about the assholes who tried to kill him later. I'll take that one, thank you."

Jane smiled. "Yeah," she said. "I'll take C too. Let's go get Ethan and bring him home." She pushed down the nagging thoughts in the bottom of her mind, whispering to her of despair.

If he's still alive. If, by the time we get there, there's anything left to save.