Author's Note: Again, apologies for such a late posting. I've got a busy weekend coming, so I'm trying to get as much done early in the week as possible. Plus, it's a federal holiday here in the States, and my folks came to the house for lunch. So, here's your next chapter!

As always, hope you enjoy! ~lg

oOo

Dane Winters met Will the moment he walked into the sheriff's office. Ephraim's lawman was furious, and he didn't have a problem invading Will's space. "Would you like to tell me what is going on in my town?"

Will glanced at Benji, whose expression told him that Winters had been demanding answers since they showed up with Blake. Even Jane looked a touch frazzled, though she covered it admirably. They knew the same thing Will did: they needed information, and Winters would be their best source, particularly if he was cooperative. With a deep sigh, he glanced back at Winters and made a very Ethan-like decision. "Read him in."

Benji's jaw dropped. "Brandt, are you sure?"

"We need back-up." Will met Winters's eyes. "And we can trust him."

"O-kay." Benji's tone said he didn't want to be the one talking to the Secretary.

Will smiled slightly, as much as his split lip would allow. "Benji, I'll talk to the Secretary. But, first, I need to talk to Blake. Where is he?"

Winters answered. "Holding. And I'll make up my mind on whether or not you get to operate in my town."

Will met the challenge head on. "I hope you decide we get to, Winters, because it could get very ugly for your town. One of your people is already dead because of what's going on, and Travis Gilbertson won't stop until he's achieved his goal."

"What's his goal?"

"Me." Will left the sheriff open-mouthed behind him and headed for holding.

Jonathan Blake sat with his back against the wall, legs crossed and a smirk on his face. "If it isn't little William Hayes."

"That's not my name."

"Oh, I know. You changed it when you joined. . . What was it? The Impossible Missions Force?"

Will sat down on the bench across from Blake, more tired than he let on. He'd just come from telling Noelle that her father was part of a shadow terrorist organization, and he'd had to watch her break completely. She'd come close when Greta died, but knowing her family had killed Greta was too much. She didn't care about her father's assets being seized by the US government or that he faced prison time. It hurt, but she could cope with it given her history with her family. What broke her was when Will gently and quietly told her that Travis had been responsible for Greta's death.

After that, he'd listened while she ranted and then held her when she collapsed in his arms. At first, she'd wanted to storm his hotel room until Will told her that they didn't know where Travis had gone. Then, the waterworks had begun. Just being silent and letting her grieve had taken a lot out of him, and the last thing he wanted right at this moment was a full-blown interrogation to conduct.

Staring at Blake, he shook his head. "Look, I'm exhausted, and you have your issues. You should know, though, that I just came from Noelle's after telling her just what's going on."

"My daughter has nothing to do with this."

"Wrong." Will sat forward, his anger flaring and adding force to his quiet words. "Your daughter has everything to do with this! If it wasn't for me and my team, your daughter could face numerous repercussions from both the law and her peers. You dragged her into this when you brought her ex-husband into the fold, so to speak."

Blake's eyes hardened. "Francesca never knew what was good for her."

"You never knew what was good for her." Will refused to let the man pin his actions on his daughter. "You saddled her with an abusive husband and then disowned her when, for her safety, she left him. Do you know she bears physical scars from him? Never mind the psychological ones."

Blake shrugged, completely unconcerned. "If she'd been a good wife. . . ."

"She was a good wife!" Will jumped to his feet. This conversation had gone the wrong direction, and he was too emotional and too tired to care. "Where'd he go, Blake?"

"Who?"

"Travis."

Blake grinned, and Will sensed it. "I have no idea. Your people assaulted me before I could speak with him."

"You know you won't see the inside of a courtroom, right? That you don't get a trial." Will had come to that conclusion on his way from Noelle's to the sheriff's office. The Coalition was a terrorist organization, and known terrorists were treated a certain way by the US government. With his assets gone and his family facing conspiracy charges, Blake had no choice but to escape if he wanted to reestablish his control. Unfortunately, he'd have to contend with Will and his team—not to mention the IMF and CIA—if he chose that option.

"Why? Because I'm a 'terrorist?'" Blake scoffed. "You know that word has become the new version of Commie fever, right? People are so afraid to be branded a terrorist they'll submit to whatever the government wants or claims it needs. All in the name of being a good citizen." He stood. "Well, there are those of us who won't. We believe in a free market, in. . . ."

"Save the propaganda, Blake." Will glared at him. "Where will Travis go?"

Blake shrugged again. "I already told you. I. Don't. Know."

Will nodded and, without another word, left the holding cell. He wandered back into the office where Benji sat at the deputy's desk, sorting through files on the man's computer. Winters and Jane were sequestered in the former's office as Jane carefully explained what the Coalition was and how they operated.

The pressure behind Will's eyes built and built until he couldn't contain himself. He turned and, in a move that startled Benji and brought Jane running, punched the cinderblock wall. It sent shards of pain up his arm, not to mention possibly breaking his hand, but he didn't care. As Jane grabbed his left hand to examine it, Will sank into a nearby chair and buried his face in his right hand.

Everything had come apart at the same time it came together, and he had no idea how to handle it.

oOo

Noelle stood like a statue the next day, wearing black and with her eyes on the ground. She couldn't look at the coffin waiting to be lowered into that hole as soon as the minister finished his prayer. Not knowing that her friend was inside and how Greta had died.

Travis—the man she'd married—had murdered her.

That truth, along with everything else that Will had told her the previous evening, continually circled through her mind. Travis was a cold-blooded killer who murdered an innocent woman to get to Will, and her father was part of a shadow organization whose only aim was to control politics and the world. To that end, the Coalition had arranged for weapons deals and all kinds of criminal activities just to gain power. It turned Noelle's stomach at the same time it explained a lot of things.

And she'd let Will hold her.

That bugged her almost as much as the other had. Well, maybe not as much, but it certainly didn't help me sleep. When the truth finally started setting in, the breaking she'd felt coming at the restaurant was complete. She'd yelled at Will, her words almost unintelligible as she vented the anger she had for him, for her father, and for Travis. Then, when the anger had run its course, the tears came. Will was there to catch her before she fell apart, and he simply held her together while she cried. She had no idea how long they stayed on her couch, with her head pillowed on his shoulder while his heartbeat had soothed her frazzled emotions, but she'd loved every moment of it. Will hadn't pushed his advantage, hadn't complained when she jarred his ribs, and hadn't allowed her to apologize. He just smoothed her hair back and told her that they were still friends.

But things had changed. Noelle knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that her relationship with Will had been affected by all of this. Up until now, she could trust him, believe every word he said, and look at him as a friend. Now, she couldn't help wondering if he was off to another secret mission every time he left. Was he speaking the truth or telling her a cover story? Would he even come home? For the first time, she began to understand why he hadn't told her what he really did for a living. The not knowing was killing her, and it had only been a few days.

What would happen to her father now? Will had told her that her family's assets had all been seized because, in the end, they were gained via illegal means. But he also said she didn't have to worry about anything, that all of her assets—what few there were—weren't illegally obtained. That meant he'd been checking into her. Had he been investigating her the entire time?

"Amen." The minister's closing word yanked Noelle's mind back to the present, and she stayed in place even as Axel brokenly rose and touched his wife's casket. He then began to weep, his children surrounding him and giving Noelle even less to do. If he'd been alone, she could go to him and try to comfort him. But he had his family.

Rather than sticking around for the inevitable hugging and emotion, Noelle wiped a tissue over her face and walked for her van. The restaurant was ready for a wake, and there was enough to do that she had work for days. She decided her place was there, and she drove out of the cemetery with resolve. It's what Greta would have wanted her to do.

oOo

Will watched the funeral from a distance, seeing the pain on everyone's faces. Except for Noelle and Dane Winters, the rest of the town believed Greta Wolff had died from congestive heart failure—and they'd continue to believe that. It would do no good to reveal that the vengeful ex-husband of one of their members had murdered her to get to another person who sort of came from the town.

So many secrets. Will's eyes dropped to the book he held. Jane had wrapped his left hand the night before, and he'd finally allowed himself to rest. He woke this morning sore, regretting the punch to the wall, and wishing he could make things easier for everyone. But he couldn't.

Benji and Jane had worked through the night again, sleeping in shifts to keep an eye on Blake. And, around six that morning, Benji had found something.

Just as Will had suspected, Travis Gilbertson had made a trip to the Hamptons about the same time that Agent Hanigan was murdered. They'd pulled all the information they had on Richard Van Buren, Hanigan's father-in-law, and learned that he had ordered all the hits. Blake was involved because he'd arranged for Travis to commit the murders. But Van Buren had given his okay for the whole thing.

Seeing Noelle leave the graveside before everyone else, Will slipped away and headed for the restaurant. He found her alone in the dining room, making certain place settings and flower arrangements were perfect. She looked tired, her makeup hiding the extent of her breakdown the night before. Still, she jumped when he entered the room, and the expression of absolute fear in her eyes broke Will's heart.

She pulled herself together admirably. "How are you?"

He hated the formality in her words. "Okay." They stood several feet apart for a few moments, then he held up the journal. "I thought you should read this."

She frowned at him. "Your grandmother's journal?"

"It'll explain a lot about our families." Will held her gaze. "We're not related, Noelle, but secrets tore the Blakes and Hayes apart. As far as this is concerned, there shouldn't be any more secrets."

She lifted her chin. "I'm not sure I can handle any secrets at all, Will. Not right now."

He understood. "I'm sorry."

She laughed at that, a desperate sound that was almost a cry. "You were just doing your job. Protecting the nation and all that." She took the journal. "Don't be sorry, Will. Eventually, I'll probably look at you like a hero. For now, though. . . ."

He touched her elbow, somewhat encouraged when she didn't pull away. "When you're ready, call me."

"What if you're. . . ."

He put a finger over her lips. "Right now, you're one of the few friends I have. I don't care what's happening. Call."

"I will."

Will impulsively pulled her into a hug, his heart breaking a little more. He meant every word he'd said. Noelle was a friend, and she had potential to be so much more. But circumstances had torn them apart, just like Ethan's job had torn him from Julia. When he let her go, he saw the tears in her eyes and knew she understood. "Goodbye, Noelle."

She tried to smile. "'Bye."

He left then, wishing things had turned out differently. Outside, he stopped long enough to take a deep breath and look at the sky. He felt as if his heart had just been torn from his chest, and he knew things with Noelle could have gone a much different route. He could have fallen in love with her, and that would have made this so much worse. Right?

Before he walked away completely, he glanced back. The scene would forever be burned into his mind as Noelle stood in the same spot he'd left her, his grandmother's journal in her hands as tears flowed down her cheeks.

oOo

An IMF strike team met Will at the Hamptons with Ethan Hunt in tow. The older agent walked over to the rest of his team, an expression on his face somewhere between a smirk and concern. He shook hands with Benji, nodded to Jane, and turned to Will. "How did you wind up with this mission?"

Will shrugged. "I'm an analyst?"

Ethan accepted his answer. He looked Will over, clearly assessing his ability to continue the mission. "So, what do we have?"

Sensing the meeting had just gone from greeting a friend to a briefing, Will turned to Benji. On the plane, the two of them had put together a mission brief so that the strike team would be up to speed on what was happening. Will started speaking as Benji loaded his computer. "The Coalition is an international group of businessmen who bought into the idea that they could control politics and events worldwide. Each nation has their own cabal, with one man leading a council. They make decisions for the rest of the Coalition in that country, ultimately playing into a much bigger goal. Over the last fifty years, they've been involved in every major conflict and some not-so-major ones. They provide various factions with weapons or anything else they require, as well as using such things like human trafficking, drug trafficking, and any number of illegal activities to finance their goals. Their belief is that they know what's best for the world, not the leaders of sovereign nations.

"Richard Van Buren." Will turned as Benji's screen changed to an image of an eighty-year-old man. "He is the leader of the United States cabal of the Coalition. As such, he sits on the 'worldwide council.' He's also the one who ordered hits on Ms. Rastenburger, and Agents Hanigan and Winslow." Will saw Ethan blink at that name. "He also ordered a hit on me, and the assassin killed an innocent civilian named Greta Wolff to draw me out.

"This is Jonathan Blake." Again, the screen changed. "He is a member of the US council and responsible for providing the actual assassin—who happens to be his ex-son-in-law. We have Blake in custody."

The screen changed one final time. "This is Travis Gilbertson—the assassin. He killed two US agents, a US analyst, and a citizen of this country. We want him. Van Buren and Blake know his location, but Blake isn't talking.

"Your mission tonight, should you choose to accept it, is to infiltrate Van Buren's home, take him into custody, and learn Gilbertson's location. From there, my team will track and apprehend Gilbertson for the murders of at least these four individuals." Will glanced around. "Any questions?"

The briefing dissolved into a muddle of maps, security footage, and logistics, things Will had gone over on the plane. He had the map of Van Buren's beachfront mansion memorized and had begun going through the man's financials. Right now, he needed a moment to get his wits together. Giving a briefing was easy. Leading the mission demanded more. Much more.

Ethan joined him at the edge of the cluster of agents. "Good work, Brandt."

"Thanks." Will eyed the senior agent. "I'm sorry about Winslow."

Ethan's eyes moved over the gathering, seeing the focus on their faces. "It's a risk we take."

Will shook his head. "It's different this time, Ethan. It's personal." When Ethan glanced his way, he continued, "Just after Ghost Protocol, I inherited a home from my grandfather's estate. I rented the house to a friend of mine from when we were kids. Noelle Blake. I had no idea her father was involved in this."

"Is she?"

"No. She was the first person I cleared." Will shrugged. "Gilbertson's her ex, and I hate that this is causing more trouble for her. But I'm not sorry he's going down."

Ethan turned to him. "Just how personal is this, Brandt?"

Will understood the question. If it got too personal, he could make emotional decisions. "I'm not in love with her. She's a friend, and nothing more. I do trust her, but Gilbertson gave me no choice in the matter. He told her about what I do."

Ethan nodded. Out of all the men there, he understood. It had taken his wife's abduction for Julia to learn what Ethan really did, and Will couldn't help but be thankful that Noelle's life wasn't in danger. Not that he knew, anyway. Ethan spoke before he continued that thought. "Your injuries?"

"Superficial."

"Good."

A few minutes later, the gathering broke up, and the mission began. Getting into Van Buren's home was easy, and the strike team had the elderly Coalition leader in custody within minutes. Van Buren's wife and daughter had to be restrained, neither one knowing just what he'd been involved with, and Will's heart sank when he walked through the door. He'd promised Mrs. Hanigan that he'd find her husband's killer, never once thinking that her father had ordered it.

The whole thing echoed back to Noelle's situation.

Mrs. Hanigan's eyes widened when he walked into the room. "You!"

Will met her eyes, not shying away. Noelle had appreciated his direct approach, and he suspected this woman wouldn't want him to beat around the bush. As Benji and Ethan dragged Van Buren into another room for a bit of conversation, Will moved to Mrs. Hanigan's side. "I'm sorry, ma'am."

"You promised to find Bill's killer." She looked from him to the door where her father disappeared and back. "Daddy did this?"

Her mother reached over and put a hand on her arm. "You can't believe that, honey. We'll get to the bottom of this."

Will sighed. "I really am sorry, Mrs. Van Buren. Mrs. Hanigan, your father didn't kill your husband, but he was responsible for his death."

Just like with Noelle, Will watched the woman crumble. Mrs. Van Buren held her daughter, her own tears coursing down her cheeks as her outrage changed to anger. Will wondered if the two women had just begun putting pieces together concerning Van Buren's activities over the years.

Leaving them with Jane, Will moved into Van Buren's study. He found two members of the strike team just inside the door while Benji went through the man's computer. Ethan sat on a chair, looking for all the world like he'd just been about to share a cigar with the elderly man. He glanced up at Will, a smirk on his face. "Mr. Van Buren's not in a talkative mood right now."

"Too bad." Will heard the vengeance in his voice. "Where's Gilbertson?"

Van Buren glared at him.

Will sat down across from Ethan and wearily ran a hand over his face. "Look, I know you're into the whole 'I'm not saying a word' thing, and I understand. But now is not the time to clam up. I need to know where Gilbertson's gone. Otherwise, you go down for the murder of four people, three of which were government employees. Think about your wife and daughter."

"My wife is innocent."

"So's your daughter," Will pointed out. "Her only 'crime' was marrying a CIA agent."

Van Buren's lip curled. "He betrayed us."

"No, he betrayed you." Will met the man's eyes. "He was loyal to the things that matter: country and family. The only reason he let you and Gilbertson in his home was because he respected you as his father-in-law. He looked past what he knew you'd done and, no matter how the CIA wants to vilify him right now, I won't let it happen. You? I'm not so worried about you."

Ethan glanced at Will, and the younger man saw the worry on the other agent's face. He normally wasn't so cold when dealing with people, and Ethan knew it. But Will had been pushed too far this time, and he intended to do some good with this mission. Even if Noelle never wanted to see him again, he would make certain the Coalition never came after her. The same went for Hanigan's widow.

Benji left the computer running and started going through files. He straightened a few moments later while Ethan tried to get Van Buren to talk a bit more. "Brandt."

Will moved to his side, looking over the paperwork Benji had found. Then, he looked at Van Buren. "He's on that boat."

Ethan frowned. "What?"

"Van Buren's got a yacht. A very nice yacht," Benji explained.

Will smiled grimly. "And that's where Gilbertson's hiding."

~TBC