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How, in all the glamour of Dubai, had Benji managed to find a safe house that was so like the Russian prison? Dark, damp, filthy. Ethan felt almost at home.
As soon as he got back to the safe house, they all demanded answers from him. (Well, Brandt and Carter did, Benji just watched him with worried eyes.) He had, in turn, demanded to know what had happened while he was chasing Wistrom (or the fake Wistrom). Once had been told about the absolute shit show at the hotel, he ignored them all and walked into the tiny bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
He ached in ways he’d forgotten existed. He’d been in fights over the last two years, but the tension of the climb, and the handover and the chase pulled his shoulders tight, and made his brain swim.
He knew what he had to do next. No more team work. He had his own plans, and he was going to follow them, once he’d cleaned up.
He couldn’t take the way they looked at him any more, demanding answers he didn’t have to give. He’d forgotten what it was like to lead people, not just prisoners, who just fought and fought, but intelligent, independent people who would argue with him. Who relied on him!
Ethan stripped off his shirt and examined his wounds in the mirror.
Damn.
Damn it all to hell.
Fuck, even.
It was all going wrong. It really had just all gone wrong. He wished never they’d never broken him out of prison. (And when he got back, he was going to have words with Luther about telling Carter where he was, and how to get him out, and then not being there himself. He knew Luther had schemes of his own, and was probably somewhere making sure Julia was safe but Ethan missed him.)
He wished he was alone, without anyone to drag him down.
He wished he was back in prison.
He wished – he wished he was dead.
Someone knocked on the door, and he flinched.
‘Not now!’ he shouted back.
‘It’s me, Ethan,’ Benji said, and Ethan felt his anger dissipate a little. If he couldn’t have Luther, at least Benji was there. Benji always had been reliable, right from that first frantic phone call from Shanghai. Ethan opened the door to find Benji standing there alone, holding out a bundle.
‘First aid kit. I noticed you were pretty banged up. And some spare clothes – yours are a mess.’ He looked nervous, but still stood there, holding out what Ethan needed.
Ethan took the bundle.
‘I said only pack what we need,’ he said, more quietly than he intended. The anger was slipping away, and Ethan wanted to hold onto it. Anger was all he had left.
‘I read all your mission reports, you always lose your shirt. So I thought I’d better bring another.’
It was a good thought. It was exactly the right thought. It was Benji who had bought the climbing gloves too. Benji had anticipated needs Ethan hadn’t even thought of. He liked that. It lifted a little of the weight off his shoulders. Ethan felt himself relax a little bit more. He nodded his thanks, and Benji turned to go.
Ethan turned back to the bathroom, waiting for Benji to leave. Instead, Benji took a sharp breath.
‘Ethan, your back is all torn up,’ he said, and his tone sounded stronger. He walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. ‘Give me the kit, I’ll patch it up.’
‘I can manage.’
‘No you can’t, it’s on your back. They’re deep wounds, they need cleaning, they’ll be full of sand. Let me help you.’
He stood there, hand out for the kit. Was it Ethan’s imagination, or was Benji’s back a little straighter, making him a little taller? And his eyes – he suddenly looked very sure of himself, far more than he had so far.
‘You need my help,’ Benji insisted, with surprising firmness.
He did. He hated it, he didn’t want help, he wanted to be alone again, but he did need help. And whatever it was in him that revolted at the thought of asking Brandt or Carter for help did not seem to have the same reaction to Benji. Perhaps because they had been friends, of a sort, before. Back then, in the days before he lost Julia, in the days when he was happy – that was the Ethan that Benji had known. The Ethan that had called Benji for help from half way around the world.
Ethan nodded, handed Benji the first aid kit and turned his back. He slipped off his shirt, and felt Benji’s fingers delicately trace the cuts. It made Ethan tremble a little, to be so softly touched after all this time. To be touched with kindness, not violence. He’d forgotten what that felt like. He didn’t want to remember. He didn’t want to be reminded. He tensed up even more.
‘Don’t worry,’ Benji said. ‘I got top marks on the field medicine course. I know what I’m doing.’
‘You got top marks on all field training courses,’ Ethan said quietly, after a moment. Easier to deflect to Benji than examine his own feelings. ‘I checked, just before the Kremlin.’ He wanted to know who he was taking in there with him. He hadn’t been surprised, not really. Lab Benji, once he had got to know Ethan, was skilled enough to even draw a begrudging word of praise from Luther. But Field Benji – new and untrained, but still with good marksmanship and problem solving skills - he'd been unsure about. Still, he wasn't doing too badly. Ethan suspected Benji would make a fine agent one day. With guidance. And understanding. And maybe a team that was tolerant of his quirks. Welcomed them perhaps…for a moment Ethan saw himself training Benji, teaching him all the tricks, learning the best way to guide Benji, letting Benji take care of him...he shook the thought off. He'd learned his lesson. He was better off alone and Benji should really go back to the lab. Probably would, after this mission.
‘Bit different out in the actual field,’ Benji said, gently cleaning the wounds with a wipe. ‘It all feels – it feels….’
‘A bit more messy?’
‘Messy. Yes.’
‘You’re doing well,’ Ethan said. ‘I’m impressed.’
He hadn’t meant to admit that. And he wasn’t sure impressed was the right word. Back there, in the hotel room, where they had been trying to pull the plan together in seconds, it had been Benji who had followed his orders implicitly, in seconds. Jane had been unsure, Brandt had questioned him, but Benji – Benji had just done as he had asked, immediately no question. He liked that. It made him feel less alone.
And he wasn’t alone right now. He was still team leader, at least for a few moments. He needed to remember that, and fulfil the role.
‘Benji,’ Ethan said quickly, before he could even think. He turned to face him. Benji looked at him, waiting for Ethan’s words. ‘Are you ok? Jane said Moreau knocked you out.’
Benji shook his head, frustrated.
‘It was stupid, I was distracted, and she…’
‘That wasn’t what I asked,’ Ethan said sharply, wanting to stop the spiral of self-blame. He knew where that path led, to the dark places it could take someone, and he didn’t want that happening to Benji. ‘I asked if you are ok? Are you hurt?’
Benji nodded, understanding.
‘It wasn’t – it’s fine. I’m good.’
Ethan studied him carefully, looking for the lie. Head injuries were dangerous – he shrugged them off, but he didn’t want anyone else doing that, especially someone as new to the field as Benji. And – and there was more. He wanted to say something.
‘Moreau wasn’t your fault. She’s – she was – a highly trained assassin. Both Carter and Brandt had difficulty fighting her off together.’
‘Ok. Ok, thanks, Ethan,’ Benji said, but he was still down-hearted, still blaming himself, Ethan could see. He wanted to reach out again, like he had at the Kremlin, rest his hand on Benji’s shoulder, give him that moment of reassurance, have Benji look back at him with those wide blue eyes, getting strength from Ethan. He wanted to do that so much he had to fight down the urge, clutching his hand into a fist.
Benji wasn’t his responsibility. None of them were. He was going to have to complete this mission by himself – which would be much better. He had to leave them all behind for the next stage, so he’d have to find a way to get rid of them – and that meant not reassuring Benji.
He looked at Benji and he could see it. Give Benji an ounce of kindness, an iota of reassurance, and Benji would follow him anywhere. He almost gave it to him. He almost reached and invited Benji to do it, to come with him, to always be there.
Why? Where had that come from?
He turned his back to Benji again, and he began to place butterfly stitches over the worst cuts. Ethan relaxed a little, knowing if his muscles were too tight it would pull at the stitches. He felt Benji pat him, almost absent-mindedly, as his muscles loosened and Ethan closed his eyes for a second, revelling in the touch. A second of kindness. He needed that. He couldn’t ask for it, or expect it, he barely allowed himself to want it, but Benji gave it anyway.
‘Why do it?’ he asked, suddenly. ‘Why become a field agent? You were happy, back in the lab.’
‘I was happy helping you,’ Benji said, very quietly, as he examined one particularly deep cut. ‘It made me feel useful. And then you disappeared – out in the field somewhere and – I worried. I know that’s stupid, I know you don’t need me but – I wanted to be able to help you when you came back. That’s all. I know I haven’t been much help – I know you don’t…’
Benji’s voice faded off and it suddenly occurred to Ethan – they’d abandoned him. Julia and Ethan and Luther had seen Benji almost every week, worked with him, spent time with him and then they’d just been gone. He’d been abandoned without a word. And something – something about Benji seemed to say he’d been abandoned before. Many times, and this time he’d decided to do something about it. He’d tried to make it so he could be so useful, Ethan would never abandon him again. He’d had faith Ethan would return, and when that happened, Benji was determined to be by his side.
It twisted Ethan’s atrophied heart. He was ashamed and yet – and yet – he was needed. Benji needed him.
And in a few moments Ethan would have to abandon him again to meet the Russians. Well. Not like last time then. He wouldn’t go without a word. He’d make it clear to Benji it wasn’t his fault this time. That Ethan wouldn’t leave him alone here.
‘I appreciate all you’ve done for me on this mission,’ Ethan said firmly. ‘You’ve done good work. You’ve been a great help.’
Benji was silent, placing the last butterfly stitches over the cut. Ethan let himself be silent for a moment, allow himself this second of being cared for. Benji was gentle, his touch barely there, gentler than the kind of treatment Ethan normally got, the kind he gave himself. He closed his eyes again, longer this time, and sighed, softly.
‘You’ve still got bruises from the bomb,’ Benji said. ‘I’m going to put some cream on them.’
Ethan nodded wearily. This was good. Benji was good at this. Ethan wasn’t used to this, to being cared for in the field. To have his injuries so carefully treated. Or the rest of it either – Benji’s faith in him, Benji’s foresight, his support. He might have been nervous, but he – Ethan felt better, he realised, having Benji there. He felt – he felt less alone. He wanted to thank him but didn’t know the words.
He wanted to say if he ever undertook another mission (and that was very doubtful right now) that he wanted Benji there. He’d actually done well, for his first mission.
‘Hell of a first mission,’ Benji said softly, as he smoothed the cream over the bruises.
It made Ethan turn a little. How odd, that Benji would pick up on his thoughts like that, as if they were in perfect sync.
‘Did you know Hanaway well?’
‘Barely at all. But – you know – seeing an agent die like that in front of me…’
‘It happens,’ Ethan said harshly.
‘Well it won’t happen again,’ Benji replied firmly. ‘Not if I can do anything else to stop it. No one else dies.’
Ethan turned around to face him. Benji blinked at his sudden closeness, but didn’t step back.
‘You can’t promise that. No one can. I’ve tried, believe me, I’ve made that promise but…’
‘And I’m not like you,’ Benji interrupted. ‘I’m not the hero, I know, believe me, I know, Ethan. But when I saw Hanaway – I made the promise to myself, Ethan. And I know people will die, but if I can do anything to keep them alive, I will. To keep you alive.’
‘I might be a lost cause,’ Ethan said, only slightly joking.
‘Not if it has anything to do with me,’ Benji insisted. He flushed and looked down for a second, than back up at Ethan with a sort of defiance.
‘You’re a good man, Benji Dunn. Too good to be at my side,’ Ethan said softly.
‘Nevertheless, by your side is where I am, and where I intend to stay,’ Benji replied, his voice shaking a little. ‘If you’ll let me.’
Ethan stared at him. He knew he had to leave them all behind, he knew he had to go on alone, but all of a sudden he didn’t want to. He wanted Benji beside him. He felt like there had been an empty spot right there, and somehow Benji seemed to fit that spot perfectly.
‘What if I order you to leave?’
‘Then I’ll wait for you to call me back. Or find you again.’
‘Why?’
Benji swallowed, and looked away, toward the door, his face in shadow.
‘You called me,’ he said, very quietly. ‘And I saved you. No one else had ever called me for help before, I’d never saved anyone.’
Ethan watched him leave, fighting a sudden desire to call him back. Stay with me, he wanted to say. Stay with me today, tomorrow, forever. It all seems a little easier when you’re here. It all feels possible. Stay with me, Benji, until the day I die. I need you.
But that wasn’t allowed. He had to go on alone