Mae govannen everyone!
A few things before we begin:
-This fanfiction started as a few scribbled notes after watching Fallout one evening. It evolved quickly, and i promise that i will get it all up-
-but it will take time- my writing on this one is scattered and spasmodic, because the storyline comes to me in bits and pieces.
-so bear with me, and please be so kind as to tell me what you think!
Disclaimer: I own none of these characters
Namarïe!
CLASSIFIED IMF INFORMATION.
THIS DOCUMENT IS REDACTED.
IMF WILL NEITHER CONFIRM, NOR DENY THE INFORMATION WITHIN THIS FILE.
Washington D. C.
United States of America
2015
Ethan Hunt didn't normally get to enjoy the sunny weather uninterrupted. So today was a luxurious rarity.
It was peaceful in his flat that morning; no calls, no missions. Sat outside on his balcony, sunglasses on with a mug of coffee in one hand, he allowed himself to relax. The heat was a balm to his weary body, abused through his latest brush with the Syndicate.
Vaguely, Ethan considered a walk, but the opportunity for a quiet day doing nothing was far more appealing. They were so far between...
The agent's phone lay on the table inside, vibrating on silent. Perhaps, had he been inside, he would have heard the faint buzzing and seen the screen flash caller ID with-held. He would have sighed, knowing that the day's possible outcome was a far off dream now, and would have answered with a brisk, "Ethan Hunt. How can I help you, sir?"
But as it was, he did none of those things, and finally the phone fell still. Ethan took a mouthful of coffee, leaning back in his chair and kicking his feet up onto the balcony rail. IMF had been through hell...
And so had he.
But he didn't want to think it over too much. Not now. The truth was, that if he had noticed the way his phone had been carrying on before, he would not have picked it up. Even for Benji.
Not even for her.
Well...alright. Maybe for her. Though he couldn't see why she would call.
A dove alighted on the balcony not three feet from him, puffing up its breast, it began to warble, eyeing him without any fear.
"Be glad I'm not a cat, pal," said Ethan over his coffee.
The dove cooed, bobbing its head before setting to preening its feathers. Inside on the table, his phone began to vibrate once again. As before, he didn't notice as it buzzed into the table beside a table dusted with toast crumbs. On the screen flashed Benji's name.
It must have been important for both IMF and Benji to contact him. But exactly what was the matter, Ethan Hunt would only find out later.
Your mission, should you choose to accept it...
How many times had he heard those words? How many times had he accepted the danger, and then proceeded to defy death and fate and always emerge alive. Many had told Ethan that, one day, his luck would run out. He knew that. Luck wasn't a thing you could rely on forever.
Even back during his youth, Ethan had been the lucky one. When he had begun his training under IMF, they had seen fit to send him to join the CIA's academy. For four years he had laboured alongside fellow young men and women. He had made friends...a best friend...then IMF had come to take him back. He had been twenty-six by then, his friend nearing eighteen.
They never saw each other again. And Ethan never heard from him. Not once.
Until one year ago.
The agent who had once been his closest friend had been declared KIA. On a mission to destroy an energy plant deep in the Ukraine, he had been killed in the ensuing explosion. The other two members of the strike team had escaped with minor injuries. Ethan had sat in silence following the news.
At the time, news of the Syndicate had raised the question of wether the agent really was dead. But Ethan had known him. And he knew better than anyone...that if the man was dead- then he was staying that way. The man he had known would never have joined a group like the Syndicate. He was too big on loyalty to a greater cause.
Tears had burned in Ethan's eyes as he remembered how young he had been. How young they both had been...Young and full of a self-assured confidence. Indestructible as all youth thought themselves.
What a rude awakening.
The thought of his old-friend, lying still and cold under all that stone and ruin, made Ethan wish that he had tried harder to reach out once they had been separated.
But what was done was done. Wishing made nothing better.
Ethan gazed into the dregs of his coffee, the bright morning now had a cloud of old regrets hanging over it, raining doom down over him. The dove stopped singing.
He could see those ice-blue eyes so clearly. The slight arrogant jut to the chin. Blinking, he forced the image away and let out a sigh.
Wroooooo? piped up the dove in a mournful voice. Wroooo? Wrooo?
Ethan thought about chasing the bird away, but couldn't be bothered. Instead he raised his sunglasses, squinting in the golden light of the sun. It was probably nearing ten o' clock by now...maybe a run would do him good after all. It could help do away with the pent up regret and sorrow now swirling within him.
Wroooooo?
He glanced that the dove. Perhaps it was his imagination, but there seemed to be some form of sympathy in those dark beady eyes. Great, he thought. Now I'm seeing things. But all he said was, "Don't give me that look."
Wrooooo-ooooo?
"Have you got only the one noise in your databank?" He really was loosing it. Talking to birds. Really, Ethan, what next. "If you're gonna chide me, at least change it up."
Inside, the phone buzzed for the third time, startling the fly- who abandoned the jam. It was Benji again. Ethan, of course, heard nothing except the wroooooo-ing the dove was making. Finally, he made a shooing motion at it, and it fled with a disgruntled shrill. Ethan got to his feet and fetched his keys.
He left his phone on the table.