Ch. 10: Gone

Ethan came to a skidding halt before the IMF building. Several of the floors' windows were blown out, smoke billowing out from the gaps. The entire compound was surrounded by firetrucks and ambulances. Men and women scuttling around. Employees were being corralled to the backs of the ambulances as rescue workers yelled to one another, directing and carrying the injured. Ethan's eyes scanned the faces of the people exiting the building. Benji's face was not among them.

Suddenly Ethan's phone rang. He yanked it from his pocket, answering the call frantically.

"Benji?"

A sad sigh came from the other side, "It's Hunley."

"Mr. Secretary," Ethan replied, trying to calm his nerves, "Are you safe? Is Benji with you?"

"I'm at the safehouse."

There was a pause.

"Hunt..." the man began, "Benji was hit. Leg. We couldn't both get out."

The ground felt like it was dropping out from under Ethan's feet.

"He held them off so I could get to the safehouse. I told him we'd come back for him, but as soon as I left the building...another explosion hit."

A mix of anger and sadness bubbled up.

"Are you hurt, sir?" Ethan choked out.

"I was hit, just in the arm. I patched it up. I can meet you-"

"No, sir. Stay at the safehouse. I'll have agents sent to you."

"Ethan, I'm...I'm so sorry…"

Ethan shook his head, his need for vengeance creeping up. He walked closer to the scene. "I'm going to look for him. In the rubble. I'm going to find him."

"Ethan, I don't think he-"

"I'm going to find him."

"Good luck, Ethan."

Ethan ended his call and cut past the line of tape, looking up at the building. A cop walked up to him, holding up his hands to block Ethan from getting through.

"Please back away, sir," the cop called.

"Are there any more people inside?"

"They're being cleared out."

Ethan pushed past the cop and ran in, taking the building floor by floor, looking for Benji, coming up empty each time. He couldn't be sure how much time had passed. When there was still no sign, he ran back outside, scanning the injured again and again. Frustrated, he ran up to a medic.

"I'm looking for someone. About my height. Brown hair. Blue eyes. Trimmed beard. Gunshot wound to the leg."

The medic shook his head. "That description could have been anyone…"

Ethan let out a desperate huff.

"Wait," the medic paused, "Gunshot, you said?"

"Yes. In the leg. At least there."

The medic's brow furrowed, "Everyone I saw or treated only sustained blast wounds or blast-related. I didn't see anyone shot."

The medic rushed off.

"They targeted him, didn't they?" A deep booming voice asked from behind Ethan. The agent turned around to find Luther Stickell frowning sympathetically at him.

"Brandt," Luther told him, answering the question Ethan didn't have to ask.

Ethan turned back to the building, his eyes scanning the area.

"They came for him and Hunley. They didn't care about the rest of them. They did the damage they wanted, but if they wanted to do more they could have. There are too many survivors."

"The party at the hotel was a trap," Luther added, shaking his head.

"I thought it was a trap for me, but they did it again...they pulled me away from Benji. They knew I'd distance myself from him. I did exactly what they wanted me to...and now…" he trailed off.

"It's not your fault, Ethan," Luther began.

"No," Ethan cut in, looking around, "Something's missing. He's not here. Rand said Kane wanted me to suffer, they wouldn't just kill Benji he'd-"

Ethan stopped, his eyes widening.

"He'd what?"

Ethan pulled out his phone, calling Hunley back.

"Hunley, tell me Rand is still in the custody of the CIA."

"What?"

"The men who attacked you are Titus Johansson's men. Kane might know how to hit the IMF, but more than likely he'd need someone who had been there recently. Rand."

"I-I'll look into it. Have you found Benji?"

"No...not yet."

Ethan hung up again, turning to Luther.

"Rand tells them how to hit us. They set up the meet so we'll all be gone except for Hunley and Benji…"

"Which one is the target?"

"Both, in a way. Kane hates Hunley for the pressure he put on him and the fact he joined our team, and he hates me because he was after me when his wife died."

"So you think he grabbed Benji?"

"I don't know. If he did...he'd have them leave something behind. If Benji was dead...they'd put him on display for me. He wouldn't just be found in the rubble. Miranda said patience. This was planned. Kane wants it as personal as possible…"

"So there must be something here."

Luther and Ethan headed for the building, waiting to go inside, when a cell phone on the ground caught Ethan's eye. No damage on the phone. Ethan picked it up, pressing the home button to turn it on. The background image was a bruised and battered Benji. Ethan's jaw clenched. Opening the phone, he searched the contents. One contact number was inside.

Ethan's phone rang, he handed it to Luther, who answered. His expression soured and he sighed, hanging up the phone.

"Rand escaped," Luther told Ethan, who was staring intensely at the number. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

Ethan didn't answer, only pressed the call button, holding the phone to his ear. The phone was answered on the first ring.

"Ethan Hunt?" the voice asked.

"Who is this?"

"Mr. Kane wants you to got to 716 Stanford Avenue. 7:30am. Come alone."

"I swear to god-"

The line went dead. Ethan shook his head, ready to smash the phone. He looked at the background picture another time and let out an angry groan.

Luther pulled up the address on his phone. "It's a parking lot."

"We have to find where they are keeping Benji…"

"Do you think somewhere close?"

"No. Kane'd keep a distance from all of this…" he rubbed his hand across his face, frantically thinking. Then an idea hit him. Reaching into his shirt, he pulled a dog-tag hanging from his neck out to look at. Yanking it off, he examined it, running a thumb over the discreet button.

He looked to Luther, "World's strongest tracking device…" he whispered, his eyes lighting up with realization. "Benji gave this to me. Can you trace back to the other end?"

Luther nodded, taking it from him, "If Benji still has the receiver on him, we'll find it."

In Luther's truck, he typed frantically on a laptop, until a bleep echoed, Ethan's eyes snapping to the screen. "Seattle," Luther announced, staring at the map. He turned to Ethan, who was exiting the truck, putting the dog tag back around his neck.

"Do you need the address?" Luther asked snorting.

"I got it," Ethan told him, walking away.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Ethan stopped, turning, "1303 3rd Avenue, Seattle, Washington."

Luther shot him a look, "You think I come all the way from my vacation to DC just to have you walk away from me now?"

Ethan shook his head, "I'm not risking any more people. That's what caused this."

"It sounds like putting Benji on the side is what did this."

Ethan fired a glare.

"Alright, I'm sorry-that was uncalled for. Look, all I'm trying to say is, don't make this a suicide mission. You've got people who've got your back. People who want to help."

"I can't lose anyone else. No one else."

Luther's eyes softened as he saw the desperation in Ethan's.