Summary: Ethan is on a mission the rest of the team didn't know about. And when things go wrong, the fallout is severe….

Fandome: Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol

Disclaimers: Do you think I could actually afford to own these characters? *lol* Nope. And I'm not making any money from this either. By the way, this is not beta-read, as I just sat down and simply had to write it down in one go, it was pouring out of my fingers so fast. LOL

What a Tangled Web

There had obviously been a mission. That was their first clue. And as information slowly came in, it became clear that Ethan had been on a one-man tour. The IMF wasn't disclosing what he had been doing or where, but one night, Jane and Brandt – who had been on their own, suspiciously boring missions - got the call to disregard their current assignments and pick Ethan up.

Their initial reaction had been that Ethan might be hurt, caught, kidnapped or in jail again and needed extraction. But the word that IMF had used wasn't 'extraction'. They had declared it a 'pick up'. That in itself was peculiar. And why had the new director, who had called Brandt and Jane personally, sounded so unusually serious when he gave them this top-priority assignment?

The only question they got a clear answer to was related to the number of people that would be sent to 'pick up' Ethan. Apparently Benji wasn't able to join them – some tech conference up North. It sounded complicated. New dangerous hack-codes or something like that - they didn't ask.

So in the end it was Brandt and Jane who had gone to pick up Ethan – and their destination turned out as nothing they had expected. It wasn't a jungle. Nor a blown up leftover of some building Ethan might have been sent to. Hell, it wasn't even a smelly gulag in some place the maps had forgotten.

No.

It was fancy hotel.

They both tried not to wonder why Ethan had to be 'picked up' from a place like that instead of him just getting on the next plane himself and come in.

As they arrived at the lobby, the concierge told them where Mr. Harrier was staying. A nice suite, it turned out. They decided that Jane would go upstairs, while Brandt remained in the lobby to secure their exit – not that he thought there was anything to secure, as there simply wasn't anything suspicious around for miles – but it was standard protocol and Brandt took his orders seriously. Unlike some other agents he wasn't gonna mention by name.

When Jane arrived on the high-rise floor of the hotel's more pricey suites, she hesitated a moment before turning down the hallway to Suite A3, wondering what Ethan's assignment could have been.

Then she knocked on the door. But nobody answered.

Knocking again, a little more loudly this time, she waited again. Nothing.

Okay, this was strange.

Frowning she got out her always ready lock-pick set. After no more than a few second, she had the door unlocked with a soft click. Not hearing a sound from inside the suite, she carefully called out:

"Ethan?"

No answer.

""Ethan, are you in here?" she tried again, carefully moving further into the suite.

Part of her – the agent part – was beginning to get a weird tingling feeling on the back of her neck, and normally she would have reacted to it by drawing her gun – but she didn't. While something was clearly off, it didn't feel…. dangerous.

So she went ahead, through the main room, going further into the suite, cautiously checking each room. Until she reached the bedroom door.

"Ethan?" she hesitantly called out. It was the only room left that she hadn't checked yet. If he was here at all – and IMF had been unusually clear on that he was - he had to be in this room. The question was 'why wasn't he answering her?'...

Carefully she pushed open the door to the bedroom.

The first thing she saw was the bed itself. The coversheet on it was slightly rumpled. Several items were strewn all around the room, including a very expensive-looking, obviously custom-tailored tuxedo. She could also see the torn remains of a ballroom invitation lying on the ground next to it.

And photos.

They appeared to be observation shots. On the night table next to the bed a laptop was plugged into the wall socket, but the screen was black. Next to it laid a stack of CDs. Two of them were broken. As she stepped closer to look at them, she saw Ethan's neat handwriting on several of them. He had obviously been reviewing whatever was on the discs. As she reached to pick one up, she accidentally pushed against the laptop, which suddenly came to life – it had obviously merely been on standby due to lack of further input.

What she saw on the screen made her wonder what on earth the IMF had sent Ethan into. There was a frozen frame of video on the computer screen. The frame showed women. Maybe a dozen or more. All dressed up to look beautiful, but they didn't look happy. Their faces showed fear. And all of them – were lying dead in what appeared to be a simple cargo hold. The picture was disturbing to say the least.

But why was it on Ethan's laptop?

A blinking icon on the bottom of the screen then caught her attention. It was an opened mail from IMF. Whoever read it had apparently failed to log out of the mail properly – hence the blinking.

Against every protocol she knew, but following her intuition, she opened the mail again, somehow feeling that it might hold an explanation to all this.

And when she saw the message, she had to keep her hand from trembling as she read the words:

"To Agent #10471,

regarding mission Ladybird, be advised to move in on supplier soon. Additional video material of recent purchases provided, check CD. New goods apparently stolen all over the US, some already damaged beyond repair. Set up buy ASAP to save rest of shipment.

As Jane once more looked at the frozen video frame on the left-hand side of the screen, and then back at the message that apparently referred to it, she suddenly had a horrible realization:

The mission was a human smuggling ring, kidnapping women all over the US. Someone was obviously trying to sell these women as slaves to rich male buyers. The picture of the dead women – it had to have been either a shipment gone bad, or a warning to the remaining women of what would happen to them if they tried to run.

Remembering the thrown-away tuxedo on the ground beside the bed, Jane realized that Ethan had apparently been sent in as one of those 'rich buyers' to infiltrate the seller's circle and take it apart from the inside out.

But what had gone wrong? What could have been pressuring enough, that IMF apparently decided to cancel the whole mission already half-way in? She took another glance at the horrific frozen picture of the dead women in the cargo hold. And she just couldn't think of anything that would make IMF cancel a mission with so much at stake.

But then she froze. And looked back at the photo. Really looked this time.

There, at the back of the bottom left row of dead women….there was one that looked familiar to her for some reason.

Why did that face look so famili-?

"Oh my God…." Jane gasped.

She knew that woman. Had seen her before. On the mission report Brandt had shown her a few months back. His botched mission from Croatia.

That woman, the one lying there dead in the cargo container – it was the same one that had been in the picture Brandt had shown her, the one of Ethan Hunt and ….

His wife.

Realization hit Jane like a fist to the stomach.

And as she looked up from the laptop screen, the whole scene in the room suddenly made horrific sense. An icy feeling of dread came over her as she took in the state of the bed, the clothes and the strewn CDs.

Ethan had been preparing to go out to the ball. He must have watched the CDs. And then – not even suspecting what he was about to watch - he must have seen…..

Fleeting thoughts began racing through Jane's head about how Julia could even by lying dead in this cargo container if she had died months ago in Croatia – but it all fit as she suddenly remembered a cryptic conversation between Brandt and Ethan after one of their first few missions together – and her feeling back then that Brandt and Ethan seemed to have come to an understand of some sort – it suddenly all added up. Julia's death had been staged in Croatia. Probably by Ethan.

But this time - ….. this time Ethan wasn't behind it. This time, it was him who was taken by surprise. And he had been alone when it happened, unsuspecting – unprepared.

'Where is he?' Jane began thinking, urgently, almost frantically.

She saw the adjacent bathroom next to the bed. The door was closed.

"Ethan?" she called out, trying to suppress her fear for Ethan. And for his state of mind. There was no telling how he would have reacted. His wife was dead. Really dead this time.

The IMF, having had no idea that Julia was still alive in the first place, obviously hadn't realized the importance of one of the dead women's identities. But when Ethan failed to report in, didn't show up at the ball, and from one moment to the next apparently ceased all communication with headquarters – that had gotten them to review their intel. And someone must have noticed.

That's why they sent not an extraction unit, but his own team to pick up Ethan.

Nobody had known what to expect. That's why they - his team - had been sent in.

"Ethan, I'm coming in, okay...?" Jane called out, carefully reaching for the door knob, turning it slowly.

When the door opened, she saw the bathtub first. Water had been run in, but it was obviously cold, long forgotten. And leaning against the tub, sitting on the ground next to it with his back to it, was Ethan.

He wasn't…. reacting.

It looked like he had been sitting there for a while, maybe hours – it was impossible to tell. His legs were stretched out before him, his right arm hanging loosely across his legs. In his left arm – he was barely holding on to a near-empty bottle of something that looked like whiskey. His knuckles were white, although his grip was feeble.

But it was his eyes that shook Jane to the core.

There was a darkness in them that Jane had never seen before – not in anyone. He was staring at the empty wall ahead of him, yet clearly not seeing it at all, like he was looking at something far away, further than anyone could look. Beyond this room, beyond the whole damn hotel and beyond, perhaps, even death itself.

"Ethan?" Jane tried gently to approach him.

"Ethan, can you hear me?" she cautiously kneeled down next to him, but not touching him yet, not daring to spook him in any way.

After what seemed like hours, but could in reality have only been a minute, Jane decided to reach for the bottle in Ethan's hand, to carefully slip it out of Ethan's grasp. At first he didn't react. Then his grip slowly tightened – the sinews in his arm slowly tensing, straining – until the glass suddenly imploded beneath his grip, deeply cutting into his fingers.

He didn't even seem to be aware of it.

Shocked at what she had just seen, and not really sure what she could do, Jane forced her gaze off the splintered glass shards now strewn on the ground next to Ethan and instead focused on his eyes again – trying to make him look at her.

Then she saw something she hadn't noticed before. Ethan's eyes were red – and she was aware that it had to have been from tears – but it wasn't just his eyes. His entire forehead was flushed. He must have been sitting on the cold ground for hours, drinking to numb the pain – and was now running a fever from the combination of shock and too much liquor.

She had to get him off the floor. The only question was how.

She wasn't sure if calling Brandt up here was be the best solution, because for some reason, she could feel that Ethan wouldn't want any more people to see him like this. In the end, she decided to split the difference. She grabbed her cell phone from her jacket pocket and dialled Brandt's number.

"So, what's going on up there?" were Brandt's first words as soon as he came on the line. He clearly sounded curious, with a mixture of ever increasing boredom thrown in for good measure.

"I have found Ethan. We….need to handle this on our own, Brandt."

That made Brandt stop his casual stroll around the lobby.

"What's wrong?" he hesitantly asked after a beat, his worry now shining through clearly.

"We're gonna stay here for a while. Tell IMF that Ethan is gonna be off rotation until further notice. And I want you to get to the nearest pharmacy and pick up some sedatives, something that works safely with alcohol. I don't care how. Just bring it here. I'll stay with Ethan until then."

Jane's voice left no room for doubt. And Brandt – getting the feeling that Jane knew what she was doing – decided to follow her orders without any questions asked.

"Alright, I'm on my way out. Be back momentarily."

"Okay." Jane's reply was soft, before the connection was ended and Brandt looked up at the ceiling wondering, hoping that whatever was going on up there, that Jane and Ethan were okay.

Meanwhile, up in the suite, Jane had managed to get a hold of Ethan's non-resisting arm and – taking care to evade the shards on the ground – manoeuvred Ethan's upper body so that she could put her shoulder beneath his, in order to lever him off the ground. Despite his obvious intoxication, Ethan's feet seemed to still be working – though he clearly wasn't in control, or willing to move them on his own – but he was fortunately moving in whatever direction Jane was leading him.

Once she had lead him out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, she carefully settled him down on the edge of the bed, making sure he was sitting more or less steadily before she reached out with one free arm to throw the bed-cover off to the side.

Slowly, so as not to scare him, she put a hand on Ethan's neck and another around his shoulder, making him slowly lean back and lie down on the bed.

He wasn't actively contributing in any way, still too numb to even register what was happening, just staring blankly at her. But she could see he was starting to shiver as the shock was beginning to win over his self-induced alcohol numbness. She wasn't a doctor, but she knew there was a danger of him coming down from it so hard that he might crash. That's why she had told Brandt to bring something to make Ethan sleep – really sleep – for a while.

Jane just knew – looking at Ethan and the lost expression on his face – that on his own, Ethan would not be sleeping for a long time. Maybe never again.

Just as she was considering calling Brandt again for an update on how long he would take, there was a knock on the door. She glanced at Ethan, making sure she could leave him for a moment to go out of the bedroom, and then she walked quickly to the door. As she opened it, Brandt stood outside the suite. In one hand his cell phone, and in the other – a see-through store bag containing what looked like some bottled water and medicine.

"Can I come in?" Brandt asked upon seeing her, obviously wanting to make sure that he was welcome.

"Yes. Yes, come in." Jane accepted his request, and let him follow her into the suite, although she stopped before entering to the bedroom. With a low voice, she turned to Brandt:

"I managed to get him into bed, but what he needs is to sleep." Jane began, and at Brandt's questioning glance, she added. "We can talk later, once he's asleep. Let's help him first."

Accepting this solution for now, Brandt nodded, and then followed Jane into the bedroom. Ethan hadn't moved. His eyes were still open, though clearly not seeing them, as he not even appeared to be aware of them entering the room.

When Brandt stepped inside the room, and saw their team leader, he couldn't help but wonder what on earth could have happened to make Ethan, the man who was famous for accomplishing the impossible as well as for his stubbornness, transform into this shell of a soul lying on the large bed like he was lost in it.

In his entire time as a member of Ethan's team, Brandt had only ever seen once a glimpse of Ethan's darkest fears – during that time in Seattle, when Ethan had told him that it was never his job to protect his wife, it was Ethan's – and he tried to think of what it could have taken to destroy Ethan like this.

He saw Jane unpack the syrupy medication and pour it into a glass, topping it off with some water from one of the bottles to make it more drinkable. Then he watched her sit down on the edge of the bed, right next to Ethan, and try to raise his head enough to allow him to drink the mix.

It was hard to watch Ethan not even react to her. But in the end, the instinctive response to swallow the water Jane was coaxing down his lips won out and Jane was satisfied to see that most of the liquid made it down Ethan's throat instead of running down the side of neck.

When he was done, she carefully helped him lie down again.

And after a few moments, during which both Jane and Brandt simply watched Ethan, making sure that the medication did its job – Ethan's eyes eventually began to close.

Finally, he was asleep.

Jane motioned for Brandt to step outside the room, and she softly closed the bedroom door behind them, as they both retreated to the main room.

And it was there that Jane's shoulders began to shake. After having been strong for as long as it took, she suddenly couldn't hold it in any longer. The fear for Ethan. The shock of seeing him down, so completely broken. The knowledge of what the IMF had sent him here to do. And how everything had, in one horrific moment of fate, gone so terribly wrong with this mission.

She suddenly felt Brandt's hands on her arms, pulling her into a slow embrace. He clearly had no idea what had just happened, but he was observant enough to understand that whatever it was, it had clearly shaken Jane to the core. And coupled with the still vividly ingrained image of Ethan's condition in the next room, Brandt had no doubt that whatever Jane was about to tell him, would make him want to wish he'd never asked.

"Jane….? What happened in there?" Brandt eventually asked as he let Jane out of the embrace, once he was sure that she was okay enough to sit down.

And as Jane's teary eyes focused on him, she told him. What she had seen on the laptop. And how she had found Ethan.

What had happened to Julia Hunt.

And from that moment on, Brandt knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

All they could do was help Ethan - if he let them. And if he didn't …Brandt had seen agents come apart in the field before. He feared for what Ethan might be capable of if he turned in that direction.

They had to be there for him. Now, more than ever.

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Author's Note /Updated:A big thank you to fox4mel for the kind review, I will think about continuing the story...yet I can't say when I get around to it. But I'll think about it, I promise.