This is Will!whump, plain and simple.

The characters you recognize and the IMF belong to Paramount Pictures; I am only borrowing them for this story. I am making no profit from it and no harm is intended.

Story contains violence and strong language.

Over the river and through the woods

"Mmm-hmmm."

The chairman flicked through the summation pages of the report with barely-concealed indifference. "Interesting, and quite a lot of - detailed - food for thought. The Sub-Committee will review this information thoroughly and discuss the opinions present, and in due course will forward any consensus reached to the Senior Oversight Committee for their reaction to the findings." He kicked lightly at the floor beneath the long, polished table, setting his chair rolling smoothly backwards.

Around him, the other members of the Sub-Committee rustled into motion, straightening, taking last gulps from their water glasses, tucking folders into briefcases and scooping phones out of pockets and purses. Belatedly, the chairman leaned up to the microphone again and, over the rising murmur in the gallery, rattled off, "The Sub-Committee thanks you for your input, Agent, er, Brandt."

From his seat below the podium, William Brandt rolled his eyes. He placed his hands flat on the tabletop and straightened his arms, pushing to his feet. Beside him, Agent Ellisa James snorted, not bothering to moderate the sound. "Those weren't opinions, you fossilized windbag, they were cold, hard facts. Facts that agents are in danger, every day, while you review..."

"I know, I know." Will swiped his notes into a pile, resisting the urge to sweep them right off the table into the wastebasket, for all the good they'd done here.

"I'll give him 'food for thought', the slimy dickweasel." Ellisa shoved to her feet, still fuming, and Will choked back a slightly hysterical bubble of laughter.

"Now, now. That's The Honorable Slimy Dickweasel to the likes of us." He tugged his tie and shifted his shoulders, unsticking his shirt from his back. Ethan had been noncommittal about the chances of Will's testimony being positively received, and it looked like his unspoken doubts had been right.

Still, having the higher-ups' lack of concern displayed so openly was pretty damn deflating.

Grumbling, Ellisa slung her bag over her shoulder and waited for Will to join her in following the last of the observers filing out of the auditorium. In the corridor, she paused while the heavy door thumped shut behind them, and Will could see her mentally shake off the day's disappointment. "Hey, listen, Tara and Michelle rented a place on the Eastern Shore for the month, and a bunch of us are driving out for the weekend. Why don't you grab a swimsuit and a toothbrush and tag along."

The idea made Will hesitate. Sun-warmed sand, empty with the lateness of the season, rhythmic shushing waves, a cold beer to hand... The last time he'd been on a beach, he'd been under heavy small arms fire; the time before that, he'd been in the Pacific Northwest and it had been damp, chilly, and mud had sucked at his shoes while he paced a fog-shrouded shore.

"C'mon." Ellisa nudged him with an elbow while digging through her bag. "There'll be crabs. A bonfire. Someone always brings fireworks, we can blow off steam with some pretty explosions." She unearthed her keys with a muted 'Ha!' and waved them, jangling, at Will. "You know you want to."

Will smiled, a little wanly. "I do, but..."

"But nothing! You seeing someone, is that it? Bring 'em along, the more the merrier. The house is huge."

"No, there's no one. I just need..." He rubbed his neck, scruffing up the short hair at the back of his head, then rolled his shoulders. His neck was still too tense to crack. "I need a quiet weekend, sorry. Alone. Not fit for human company right now."

"Okay." Ellisa took his refusal with cheerful grace. "But next weekend I expect you to show up, by yourself or with company. There aren't too many more good beach weekends left." She gave him a playful poke.

"Barring a sudden mission, it's a deal." Will watched her toss a wave over her shoulder and stride off down the corridor. He sighed as he turned toward the nearest exit. Barring a sudden mission... That was the sticking point, wasn't it? There would always be a mission. Ethan would lead them back from the field, exhausted, beat to hell, craving the kind of rest that would only come from extended downtime... and then, through a combination of boredom and seriously misplaced altruism, Ethan would start getting antsy. He'd obsessively scan the international status updates that pinged their phones and send off short, pointed texts to headquarters. 'Is anybody watching the Cairo sit? Buenos Aires is a mess. Arizona border is heating up- anybody covering it?'

Before they knew it, Ethan would be sending parameters of another mission to their phones.

Thick, late-summer air enveloped Will as he pushed through the door. The walkway he headed down was deserted, due, he knew, to both the odd hour- mid-afternoon, too late for lunchbreak and too early for day's end- and to the distance of the parking lot it led to. Most IMF staffers liked to park in the lots adjacent to the complex, even if they had to circle the aisles like vultures before they found a space. Will always chose the northwest parking lot; sure, it was a bit of a hike away, but a brisk walk at the beginning or end of a bureaucracy-filled day could bleed off tension, and the walkway itself was tree-lined and pleasant, almost park-like. Besides, jockeying for position in the crowded nearer lots made Will cranky.

And Benji was always chiding him for being too cranky anyway, so why make it worse.

The walkway curved down a gentle slope and around a thicket of ornamental trees before spilling him out into the open expanse of the parking lot. Cicadas sang in the still air and heat radiated off the asphalt. Will hurriedly dug out his keys and opened the driver's side doors to air out the interior. He peeled off his suit jacket and tie and tossed them both onto the back seat.

He sat behind the wheel for a minute, unbuttoning his cuffs and folding them back over his forearms, thinking. Thursdays when he was in-house were usually dedicated to conferences, meetings, or hearings before one committee or another, like today's exercise in futility. Tedious, mind- and butt-numbing, but in compensation staff could leave early once the meetings concluded. Will cut his eyes to the dashboard clock and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Normally he'd take a roundabout route out of Langley, taking back roads to eventually get to his townhouse, where he could put his feet up and eat out of a take-out carton, with the TV for background noise. Today...

Today the Sub-Committee meeting had taken more out of him than he'd anticipated. He'd poured a lot of effort and yeah, passion, into his recommendations for a little less reliance on shiny gadgets and tech and a little more on old-fashioned research and analysis. To have it brushed aside- when both he and Ellisa were in the position of having worked both in R and A and in the field- was demoralizing.

Will was tired. He'd barely been home since Easter. And even when he was, a low-level current needled beneath his skin, giving him the nagging feeling that he was being disloyal for trying to relax.

Ethan tended to have that effect on people.

So he could ditch the leisurely route, take the Beltway instead, and be home a good forty-five minutes sooner, to get started on that disloyalty.

The longer drive usually mellowed him in a way that the faster one couldn't, though.

Will let out a long breath and started the car. Long way it was, then. He rolled out of IMF's parking lot and turned left.

He drove with the windows down, warm air rushing past and sweeping the cobwebs out of his head. Shadows from the trees lining the roadside flickered like an old film reel; Will realized he was automatically pressing the accelerator to the floor and he slowed, easing off his near-frantic speed.

It was a nice day, he should enjoy what was left of it. He'd pick up Chinese from Golden Bowl, something with some heat to it, and maybe, finally, head down to his condo pool for a long-neglected swim.

And then, just over the border into Maryland, the routine drive became anything but.

On a stretch of quiet, two-lane roadway, with cow pastures on either side, Will came upon another car. It was the first he'd seen since the last turnoff... and it was nose-first in a ditch.

He braked, slotting his own car in behind the crashed one, and switched on his hazard lights. There weren't any skid marks and the vehicle wasn't resting against any sign post, fence post, or tree; the ditch wasn't deep and the rear of the vehicle was canted up at only a shallow angle. Still, Will couldn't see anyone moving around, in or out of the car. He threw open his door and sprinted forward.

The car was an SUV, a dust-dulled silver with a 'Maywood Elementary' decal in the back window and a round soccer ball magnet on the hatchback. Maryland plates. The window glass was darkly tinted, but when Will approached the driver's side, that window was rolled down and he could see inside, where a woman was slumped on the steering wheel. The engine was idling quietly and the passenger seat was empty.

"Ma'am?" Will lurched down the side of the ditch, his leather dress shoes sliding on the grass. He was already reaching automatically for his phone with one hand while the other fell to the door panel to catch himself. "Ma'am, can you hear me? Are you all right?"

The woman sat up, straight dark hair falling back to reveal a pale, narrow face. Green eyes- true green, not hazel, Will noted with a detached corner of his brain- settled on Will, flicked over his face... and then bulged with sudden panic. She made a high-pitched keening noise.

"Are you injured?" Will skidded to a stop against the SUV's side. "I'm calling 911."

"No! Wait!" Still wide-eyed, the woman twisted in her seat, straining against her shoulder belt. "My baby! Where's my baby? I can't hear him crying! Oh my god!"

Will grabbed the rear door handle, rocking it fruitlessly- locked. The woman was making frantic hiccupping noises, clawing ineffectually at her seatbelt's buckle. "Unlock the door!" Will cried.

"My baby! Find my baby!" She scrabbled at the inside of the door but no accompanying 'click' signaled the locks' release. "Help me!"

Will shoved his phone back into his pocket and seized the edge of the door, hoisting himself up enough to peer into the back seat. An empty child safety seat was on the passenger side; its straps lay limp and unbuckled against the padding. The seat behind the driver was empty, and Will couldn't see the SUV's floor. "Unlock the doors!" he cried again, picturing a baby flung from its seat to the floor in the crash. He stretched, intending to boost himself over the door and reach down, feeling his way to the lock buttons himself. His hands knotted on the sill...

The woman's breathless flailing ceased abruptly. Will snapped his head up; she was gazing at him calmly, almost serenely. Her right hand dropped to cover his where it gripped the edge of the door, squeezing slightly as if she were trying to offer comfort to him.

Wrong, this is all wrong, Will thought. He wrenched free of the woman's grip and threw himself back, away from the SUV.

The back of his right hand was cold, as if he'd pressed it to sub-zero metal. That observation had barely registered before the cold swept up his arm and around his ribcage in a wide band. Will stumbled backward, heels slipping on the slope of the ditch. His arm was dead now, numbed; he reached with his left hand for the gun at the small of his back and the cold shot along his spine, up, from the back of his ribs, and down.

The world tilted, he felt an impact at his back, and suddenly he was looking at blue sky. Blue sky, fathomless blue, clear and deep like the waters of the pool he'd intended to swim in...

Blackness swept in from the edges of his vision, shrinking the blue to a pinprick spark that popped out of existence.

To be continued...