"So, looks like one of our agents put a tracker on our unknown." Luther turns the laptop to the team.

Ethan's stomach twists when he sees the location. If it is who he thinks it is…..No….

Will claps, "Venice! I love Venice." Jane rolls her eyes as they follow Will.

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Venice

Sitting in a small boat, gliding along the canal, it's impossible not to notice how beautiful Venice is. The crystal blue water with almost no waves, the cloudless blue sky, the cool breeze, and the warm sun beating down not too hot or too cold, making the temperature a near-perfect 72 degrees with clear skies, and the scenery in itself is marvelous to behold.

Even with so many people, it's still somehow comfortingly calm without a care in the world. It's hard not to get swept up in awe by the enchanting atmosphere around them.

Luther drove their boat with a swiftness that one wouldn't be blamed for assuming he'd forgotten all about Ramstein-Miesenbach. Benji's also been here before, but it was difficult to truly comprehend the magnificent city of 118 little islands all connected by over 400 bridges covering the Grand Canal that seems never-ending.

Now, however, Benji takes some time to really grasp the unique city. Will and Jane gently clasp each other's hands with heartwarming smiles as they pretend, just for a moment, that they're simply any other tourist on a vacation or a honeymoon having the time of their lives. But then there's Ethan.

The last time Ethan was here had been when they were searching for the key to deactivate the Entity. Then, at least, he had something to focus on to keep his mind occupied. Now, it's exactly why they're here, though the others don't know that yet, because frankly, Ethan's not entirely certain either.

Regardless, Ethan can't calm the nerves that are tangling together like rubber bands in knots as memories flood his mind, both good and bad.

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"It's my first time in Venice…." Ethan smiles lightly, "It's mine too." For a while, everything melts away as Ilsa holds her arms around him, leaning herself against him, happy. Really, actually happy. "We still have time, ya know," Ilsa gives him a longing glance. Ethan doesn't need words as he just nods back, eyes practically sparkling in the reflection of the soft yellow-orange sunset.

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Ethan will never forget the gondola ride. The way the city had sparkled, the lights from the endless array of buildings illuminating the darkness, casting a bright reflection on the water around them, bathing the boat in a soft assortment of yellow light as they sat in content silence, admiring the view. Ethan's gaze softened as it landed on Ilsa's smile, her hand interlocking with his own, warm. The feeling was a palpable yet indescribable feeling that Ethan had only felt once before with Julia….God, I wish I could be with you now.

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Luther's gaze keeps shifting back to Ethan, who, as of yet, hasn't spoken a word since Germany. They know all too well what Ethan's thinking about. That's why no one says anything. Luther wishes he could do something to comfort Ethan, but Luther knows it's no use. There's nothing can do or say to comfort him. In fact, trying just makes everything worse because sometimes Ethan just wants to be left alone, and this is one of those instances.

Now, Benji knows that Ethan Hunt doesn't really owe him the truth. He never has, even when they were first on assignment together, and not even when they started to become friends. After all, having friends in this field, if it was possible at all—and Benji liked to think he'd done a good job of making it work—didn't necessarily mean you had people to tell the truth to. No, having friends really depended on the intention, and Benji has always known that Ethan's intentions have been good.

Yes, he hates being lied to. It grates on his nerves nearly every time Ethan is very clearly keeping something from him, but over the years, he's come to understand why. It's the very best he can do, honestly (it's all he can do).

That being said, Benji senses that Ethan's got even less of a reason to lie to him when they are definitively not on an assignment. He thinks that's a fair expectation to have, he reckons. Why in god's name would he be here, shifting in his seat on the back porch of his house in Aspen, lying through his teeth about what he's going to be doing a week from now?

Benji wants to grab his shoulders and shake him, say something like for Christ's sake, Ethan, you can say you don't want to tell us!

But that's not what Ethan does. In response to Luther asking Ethan if he'll be here next week and if they can all meet and catch up again, he shoots them his traditional easy smile. Out of town, he tells them with a grin brighter than the biggest cities Benji's ever been to. Checking up on my childhood house in South Dakota. Oh, the hell he is!

Ethan Hunt may be the greatest liar in the world, but Benji is one of his greatest friends in the world, so, after nearly a decade of knowing him, he's figured out his little tells and tics.

Ethan can lie his way out of killing the bloody king himself even if it is caught on a hundred cameras, but Benji is at a point where Ethan can't really lie to him, not anymore. But that's not important right now.

"Ethan…." Benji's voice is soft in an almost sad way as he gently taps Ethan's shoulder to get his attention back to the present. Ethan twitches like how a bird jerks its head from side to side, It is barely noticeable unless you're looking for it, but Benji notices nonetheless and quickly retracts his hand for a moment. The others don't wait because the last thing Ethan needs is all eyes on him.

Ethan blinks taking a moment to breathe before standing again, his face staying blank, to blank.

"Eth-" Ethan shrugs him off without a glance, "I'm fine." Benji wants so badly to protest, to reach out and stop him, to make him talk to him or anyone for that matter, but it won't do any good.

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Even the safe house is a spectacle; It's got lots of windows for how small it is. The natural light is enough to where they probably won't need any lights. There are three rooms, all cube-shaped.

The main room, if it can be called that considering the size, only has one old wooden-style rectangular table by a window. The second room has three twin-size beds, each with one end table facing two wide windows. The last room is a bathroom with just a toilet and a sink, no mirror or window. Every window has blackout curtains. The house is small but authentic and nice compared to some of the other safe houses they've had.

"Hm, no too shabby," Will comments, sitting back in a rocking chair by an open window.

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Ethan's isolating himself as he tends to do in particularly difficult situations. It certainly doesn't go unnoticed.

While Benji's working on the tracker, which is very useful to an extent, anyway, because it doesn't show precise locations but rather a certain prominent area with general longitude and longitude numbers, Luther, despite knowing he probably won't get anywhere, decides to go talk to Ethan. It's something where you have to pick your battles smartly as it's really hit or miss when it comes to getting Ethan to open up, even a little.

Ethan's the team leader, regardless of what Benji might say, so, naturally, he feels the need to be levelheaded at all times for his team's sake, which while understandable, is the complete opposite of what you should do.

Luther's not sure what he'll get if anything but every once in a while it doesn't hurt to check, which is an exact quote from Ethan himself. So much for following your own advice.

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Luther knocks first even though the door is open, "Ethan…." As expected, there's no response, so Luther makes his way over to Ethan who's currently huddled in the corner by an open window. "Hey," Luther says softly so as not to startle him as he sits across from Ethan. Ethan sighs but stays silent, a slightly annoyed look in his eyes that is now burrowing into Luther's own eyes.

"Luther, I-" Luther immediately stops Ethan pointing out, "Gonna stop you right there. If you say I'm fine, or I'll be fine, or I can handle it, I swear to God, I might have to throw you out that window." Ethan closes his in a little smile before saying, "What about if I say, I don't want to talk about it right now?"

"A bit more acceptable but no. Come on man, you're missing out on some pretty interesting things out there." Ethan sits up straighter, "You mean missing out on Will, and Benji arguing over how the stupid tracker works? That sounds great."

Luther rolls his eyes, his gaze narrowing a bit. "I'm serious, Ethan. I don't care how much or how little you tell me, but I need something to work with here." Ethan takes a breath, "Just too much time to think about stuff I'd rather not." Luther nods patiently. "Care to expand on that?"

"A lot of not-great memories here." He pauses a moment, "Like Ilsa…." Luther softens, moving to sit next to Ethan. "What about her?"

Ethan lets out a strained sound that Luther can't quite pick up on. "There's so much I wanted to say to her, Luther. So much I wanted to ask, but I'll never get the answers for them…..because-she's gone and it's my fault…."

Ethan lets out another strained sound that's much more apparent this time. He's not to cry. Luther gently places his on Ethan's shoulder, looking him in the eye now, "Hey, look at me…." It's not a question. Ethan blinks a few times and raises his gaze to Luther, glossy-eyed and a bit tired. "You know that's not true." Ethan forces himself to talk, his voice cracking a little, "I-I tried, Luther, I really did." Luther nods sympathetically, "I know you did."

"I told her to run, to get out of there. Why? Why didn't she listen?" Luther shakes his head, "She cared too much about you. She'd never leave knowing you're not safe, Ethan." Ethan grits his teeth, "But she did. Sh-she left, she-I di-" Luthe knows Ethan's not much of a hugger but he doesn't care right now. He wraps his arm around Ethan's shoulders, "I know, I know. It's okay, It'll be alright. Just breathe, you're okay, Ethan." This time Ethan's the one who leans into Luther's hug.

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Dear Ilsa,

Over the years, I've accumulated a long list of the things I'll never be able to tell you. I'll never be able to tell you about the letter I've been writing- this one. Maybe it's because of the fact that I was never brave enough to do so, or maybe it's the fact that you're gone. Forever. It's stupid, really. Because you're the only person in the world who I would've shown it to, as it's for you, even if you'd never written a letter before in your life.

But, grief is ugly. It sinks me when I try to get up, like a wave washing over me. I keep thinking, hoping, that you'd stand back up from the bridge, standing taller than me, healthy, and alive. Then you'd smile at me, the same smirk that I'd recognize anywhere, even if you'd gone away for months. I remember your laugh, your warmth, and the way your eyes twinkled whenever someone said something funny.

Still, I can't think of anything to write down because the same part of me that misses you like crazy wants me to hate you for dying, for leaving me alone. Selfish you. Why did you go? This letter I'm writing to you- this one. You'll never read it anyway so I'm going to read it out to nobody instead. This letter, it says I hate you. It's written in big bold black writing because I hate you. Because the selfish truth is that I hate you, more than I love you.

I hate the fact that you light up the room every time you smile.

I hate the fact that you make everyone, even me, better.

I hate the fact that you are my sadness, my hope, my everything.

I hate that you were so brave, so courageous, so inspiring.

I hate the fact that you'd die for me when you knew you'd pass the pain on to me.

I hate the fact that you would take that risk for anyone else on this team, even if you knew them for a minute. Just because you were that good.

But mostly, I hate the fact that I never told you I loved you.

Maybe if I had told you we would be somewhere different.

Maybe if I had told you, you'd feel loved.

Maybe if I had told you, I'd finally agree to come away with you.

Maybe if I had told you, along with everything in this letter that I never did, you'd understand your worth.

Maybe you'd see yourself the way I see you, the way the team sees you.

Maybe you'd see the fact that you're not a monster, a ruthless killer. You're much more than that.

Maybe you'd see the fact that you deserved happiness. More than anyone.

Maybe you'd see the fact that I loved you. Even then, even now.

I hate you.

And I wish you were here,

-Ethan