Saw MI 7. Was so mad I couldn't think straight, so I wrote this. Enjoy.
Blood on the Bridge
MI: 7
08.13.23
"You'll never make it in time, Ethan. But you can… Ilsa," the Entity said, poison voice dripping into their ears through the compromised comms.
It was right, they both knew it. Ethan ran, heading for the bridge. He would not lose someone else! Not to this job, not to Gabriel, not to the Entity!
Ilsa stepped up to the bridge, unsheathing the stolen cane sword between one step and the next. She wouldn't let Gabriel kill Grace, a thief with the bad fortune to get wrapped up in this fight.
Gabriel smiled and they fought, trading blows back and forth the way she and Ethan traded days together for chances to save the world. A well-aimed attack carved a gash in Gabriel's arm and a well-executed defense landed her with Gabriel's knife in her thigh. Ilsa yelled as the blade sunk deep into the muscle, affording him the opportunity to stand. She followed him to her own feet.
Ethan kept running.
Gabriel grabbed her, managing to pin her between his body and the bridge railing. He smiled at her one more time as he slid his knife between her ribs. Ilsa choked. Gabriel stepped away and Ilsa pushed away from the railing, taking two steps forward as Gabriel took two back. Blood soaked the front of her shirt. As she took a third step, he took two more, watching, smiling as her knees gave out, sending her crashing to the ground. Ilsa put one hand out on the cobblestones.
"I'm sorry, Ethan," she whispered as her vision swam, blackness encroaching on the edges. Gabriel's footsteps echoed as he walked away. Ilsa's elbow buckled.
"Ilsa!" Ethan shouted as he ran. "Ilsa!" Memories flashed through his mind as he put on a burst of speed, pushing himself to run faster. Ilsa the night they met: barefoot in the tunnels, helping him escape from Yannick Vinter—the Bone Doctor. Her voice as they made their escape from the opera house, "Shoes? Shoes, please." The smile she gave him as she stepped out of the pool when he finally tracked her down again in Morocco. Her embrace as they stood on the balcony overlooking Venice. His last words to her in the desert rang in his ears, louder than his breath, louder than his pounding heart, "You're dead! You stay dead!"
Ilsa blinked hard, trying to clear her vision, one hand twitching toward the blade in her chest, her blood coating the hilt.
Ethan emerged from the alley, sprinting toward the bridge. He didn't stop as he saw Grace sprawled on the ground. He didn't stop as he saw Ilsa lying motionless on the bridge. He dropped to his knees as he came up beside her, "Ilsa…!" he gasped out, rolling her to her back. His fingers pressed to the side of her neck, his heart pounding in his ears. He waited. And he prayed. And finally, he felt her pulse thump beneath his fingers.
She was alive.
Grace woke on the steps of the bridge, her head pounding from Gabriel's beating. Slowly, she pushed herself to her feet and carefully walked to Ethan who was holding Ilsa close, breathing hard. She watched him dig the comm out of first his ear, then Ilsa's, flinging them as hard as he could into the river.
Sagging in relief as tears ran down his cheeks, Ethan stroked the side of Ilsa's freckled face before gathering her in his arms and pulling himself to his feet.
"Is she…?" Grace started, afraid to voice the question in its entirety, afraid of what it might do to Ethan.
Ethan nodded once, a short jerky movement, "Alive, but barely. We need to get someplace safe."
The sound of a boat on the canal echoed off the stone as Benji approached.
"Get in the boat, Grace," Ethan said, and Grace nodded, too shocked to argue.
"She almost died," Grace said later, sitting in a ramshackle safehouse, a heavy blanket draped over her shoulders and a fresh mug coffee in her hand. She never should have gone to give Gabriel her half of the key, if she hadn't, then Ilsa wouldn't be near death on a dusty couch in the next room. Gabriel's knife seemed to have missed both heart and lung by some miracle, but there was every chance that the trauma and blood loss would still win.
"She saved you," Luther corrected gently. "Remember that."
"Are you close?" she asked.
"In our way," he smiled.
Grace's eyes flicked to the other two men in the room, "What now?"
Benji, Luther and Ethan lay out the plan for Grace, she and Ethan would go on the train disguised as Alanna and her brother, they would put the key together, find out who the buyer was and track him back to whatever the hell the key unlocked. They gave her the Choice to have a chance, even though it meant her life would never be the same. They had all been there, and they had all faced the same Choice.
She Chose to accept.
The White Widow mask prepared, the plan, slightly modified, in place, Luther told Ethan his own plan. He had to try and trace the Entity and someone needed to keep an eye on Ilsa—who was by no means out of the woods yet. They would go off-grid, so deep the Entity could search all day and as long as he was careful, it would never find them.
Ethan spent one precious moment looking at Ilsa, her hair falling across her face as her chest rose and fell shallowly. Then, he closed his eyes, took a deep, fortifying breath and turned on his heel, trusting Luther to take care of her and trace the Entity without him—no matter how desperately he wanted to choose to stay.
As always, his mission awaited and he Chose to accept it.
Stay tuned for part two.
