Prompt: Explosion

Title: Split Second Decisions

Fandom: Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation

Warnings: Gun violence, bullet wounds, explosions, blood, knives.

Word Count: 4,133 (too long. why the heck is this so long?! that would explain why it took almost a week to write! gah - I honestly don't like this, but it needed to get done)

Synopsis: When a third joins the pair that have been on the run and in hiding for who knows how long, they both agree that nothing, no matter what may happen, can happen to the temporary addition to their team. But, when things do happen to go sideways, can their uphold their agreement and protect their friend from the harms they've been dealing with no matter where they go?

----

Split Second Decisions

A cool wind bites at your cheeks from where you stand, overlooking the rainy streets of Vienna, the steady hum of the nighttime traffic mixing with the chatter of many voices below, soothing your heightened senses.

It's been quite a while since you'd been around this many people, most of them wealthy.

You feel extremely out of place, which is odd, considering your many years of training and field work which involved this very type of scenario.

But, times have changed.

You've been on the run.

For who knows how long.

In fact, it had been quite a risk for you and your Partner to even make this appearance, considering there had been rumors floating around that this evening was all but a setup for some shady dealing...

Or even an assassination attempt.

On whom, you're still not entirely sure.

But one thing you do know is that you're still uneasy about roping Benji Dunn into all of this.

It had been a subject of debate and discussion for quite some while before the date of this evening had even arrived.

"We can't do this by ourselves. Look how many times we've tried, failed and innocent people have lost their lives," Your Partner and fiancé had exclaimed, gesturing to the various newspaper clippings and crudely printed images the pair of you had plastered to the wall of the rather decrepit, dingy apartment you'd been calling home for the time being.

"I can't let that happen again. Not when we can get another set of eyes on the scene and bring him in."

Solomon Lane.

Illusive.

That's the only word to really describe the former MI6 Agent, other than psychotic.

The man is an absolute terror to witness first-hand.

Cold and ruthless in his dealings, willing to sacrifice millions if it achieves his goal.

For the longest time, Lane had been merely dubbed "the man in glasses" by yourself and your Partner.

You'd both spent your days attempting to keep up with the terrorist, hellbent on proving your innocence and that the Syndicate, Lane's army of followers, were the ones the CIA should be after, instead of the pair of you.

And all your efforts had led to this moment - yet another night which could end in horrible disaster...

Just like every other event Lane has touched.

Sighing heavily, you peer over the ledge of the balcony you stand on, once more, a limo rolling up alongside the curb and coming to a neat halt as people gather around.

Your eyes widen slightly as a slightly familiar figure and his wife emerge from the vehicle, clearly dressed in proper attire, broad smiles on their faces as they greet the crowd surrounding them.

"Am I wrong to assume that's the Chancellor of Austria?" An all too familiar voice sounds through the earpiece in your ear, startling you enough that you gasp aloud, hastily covering it up with a sneeze as the few opera-goers around stare in concern and confusion.

"Indeed it is," You mumble lowly in response, sparing one last look down into the open-air lobby below, the political couple being ushered inside. "It's good to hear you again, Benji."

"Likewise. Though it would be better if we were actually able to y'know, meet face-to-face?" The tech specialist huffs, a saddened and slightly annoyed sounding tone settling in his voice.

But, it's what has to occur.

You and your Partner had been extremely clear to each other on that.

Benji couldn't meet with either of you directly - purely for his safety.

The last thing we need is something to happen to him, of all people. I don't think he'd ever forgive himself...

A steadily paced yet hurried sounding series of footfalls meet your ears as you turn your back to the streets below, your gaze instantly resting heavily on a familiar figure.

"He's on his way up as we speak," Your fiancé hums lowly, instinctively stepping closer towards you, an arm finding the small of your back, pushing your figures almost together.

You swear you hear yourself exhale sharply upon feeling his touch, though you shove it aside, the heat on your cheeks not bothering you.

"He's not happy about all this secrecy," You trail off, resting your chin on your Partner's shoulder, voice lowering to barely above a whisper. "But that was to be expected."

"We can't get him involved in all of this, Y/N, we just can't."

The man holding you close sighs heavily as you both step away slightly, his gaze lowering from yours.

But when Ethan Hunt raises his gaze to meet yours once more, you can't help but allow a pang of worry mixed with determination ripple through you.

Taking your arm in his, the pair of you share a nod before beginning to move through the sea of mingling opera-goers, all gradually making their own ways towards the theater.

Amongst the crowds though, a few individuals seem to stick out; their expressions stoic.

They're being pushed into the show, but almost hold no look of... anything?

"We go up," The man holding you close murmurs, guiding the two of you towards the nearest staircase, risking a brief glance backwards as the rather out of place standard industrial steel door slams shut, echoing in the stairwell.

You'd learned your lesson with elevators before.

And frankly, with the unusually unhappy looking figures having been seeming to keep an eye on you all evening, you don't quite feel like taking your chances.

"There's another Team here, maybe more than just one," You breathe, hiking up the dress you wear in a vain attempt to avoid tripping over it.

Though Ethan is quick to steady you, a wordless glance of concern being passed your way as you continue upwards, the sound of your synced footsteps bouncing off the walls.

"They're either here for us or here for the Chancellor. Those seem to be our two options unless we're missing something, here. Benji, any sign of Lane?"

"Not quite yet," Comes the reply, a rather annoyed sounding grumble. "It is quite hard, you know, to narrow down a pool of a hundred plus people to find one person in particular!"

"Keep at it. We're headed up top."

And with that, you sigh heavily once more as you come to a halt on the landing, yet another door standing in front of you.

We've got to find this terrorist...

Before he finds us...

And makes the innocents pay...

****

You've never been so utterly exhausted.

Your eyes are threatening to close as you sit in an empty seat, peering over the balcony you're perched upon, the opera carrying on below while the Chancellor and his wife watch with what almost seems to be suppressed glee.

Maybe they really enjoy the opera and this is how they spend their time together.

The thought makes you chuckle softly, a fond grin tugging at your lips.

It had been difficult for you and your fiancé to find a way to spend quality time together, but, being on the run from your own government and everybody else's has a way of bringing the time to you.

Time that you'd become immensely grateful for.

"You with me?" A familiar tone pulls you from your thoughts, earning a startled series of blinks from you as you turn to face the man sitting beside you.

Ethan is staring you down rather quizzically, though in the dim lighting of the top of this opera house you can barely make out a teasing glimmer in his gaze.

"Yeah, just got lost in thought."

"About?"

"You."

"Really?" He chuckles, feigned surprise in his tone, though it slips into a mock scolding, almost seeming to be imitating one of your mentors back when you had first joined up with the IMF. "Get your head out of the clouds, Y/N. You've got to be Mission focused!"

"Yeah, yeah," You chuckle, nudging his side playfully, though your gaze wanders him over.

He certainly looks the part - black suit, black tie, crisp white dress shirt...

Though, his hair...

"You might want to do something with that mess of yours, though."

Scoffing in false annoyance, he runs a hand through his hair, passing you a look as if to say, 'happy now?'

To which you only return with a grin.

"Let's get on the move," He suggests, making his way to his feet, biting back a yawn as he extends a hand down to you. "The other side might be a better vantage angle."

Wordlessly nodding your thanks, you're helped to your own two feet, his hand not bothering to leave yours as the pair of you pick your way along the balcony's edge, keeping a close eye on the scene below.

Performers are moving about the stage every which way, lights illuminating the spaces in dramatic, bright hues.

And the orchestra continues their melodies, the noise so loud, you could swear you're beginning to go deaf.

But then, as the tones die down for a moment, reaching a lull in the song, one of the lights mounted to the ceiling flickers and goes dark, almost as if...

Surprise and sudden alarm swells within you as your paces come to a halt, passing an uneasy gaze towards your Partner.

"Benji, is there anyone in the control booth?" You inquire, jamming your finger against the comm in your ear, hoping the slow flood of realization isn't creeping into your voice.

"The control booth? Give me one... oh my..."

The communications specialist's voice trails off into a state of shock and realization as Ethan simply shares a stiff nod with you.

And the two of you take off running, your heels quickly being discarded before following after the man who'd been at your side.

Rounding the other side of the half-moon shaped balcony in a daze, the opera still continuing on down below as per normal, your eyes widen when they fall on the dimly lit control booth at the opposite end of the theater, just below where you stand.

The two people who had been manning the show's controls are being tossed around like ragdolls, the one being flung aside with alarming ease, the other being smashed so hard against the wall, the picture frame that had been hung there clattering to the floor.

"Holy shit," You breathe aloud, urgency building within you as you merely stand there, unable to do much more than watch the scene unfold.

And with eerily calm movements, the evidently well-built figure reaches into the inner pocket of the suit jacket he wears, his gaze surveying the sea of people...

Coming to a halt when he sets sights on you and your fiancé, staring back at him with what you can only hope are sternly determined expressions.

"Is he-?"

Before you can finish your sentence, Ethan practically tackles you to the ground, the sound of a bullet pinging off the metal beams above you reaching your ears.

"Benji, what else did he pull out of his jacket pocket? His left, inner jacket pocket?" Your Partner demands from where he hovers atop of you, yet another whistle of a passing bullet sending the both of you closer towards the carpeted floor.

"A small black box...? Are those... wires? Why is he hooking it to the..."

Once more, your friend's voice goes hoarse, your fiancé's lips twitching into a frown, silently urging him on.

"There wouldn't have happened to be planned pyrotechnics here tonight, would there be?"

"Fireworks?"

The music that had once bathed the auditorium in a deafening noise suddenly dies, your mingled, heavy breaths the only sound keeping you company.

And for a moment, you both just lay there, faces mere inches apart, bodies touching.

But you're the farthest thing from flustered or bothered.

No, instead, you feel your skin quickly becoming clammy, a certain swell of worry rising within you.

"Ethan," Benji practically whispers, his voice filling with such dread and icy realization as you attempt to swallow back the rising lump in your throat. "There are at least five of them, all leaving behind the same item... They're going to..."

His voice cracks as the man above you sighs defeatedly, his eyes forcing themselves shut almost as if to ward off the gravity of the situation settling amongst the three of you.

"Blow this place sky-high."

"Just like the Kremlin," You breathe, a tear falling loose from your eye that you hastily wipe away, sniffling back anymore to fall.

"No," Ethan states resolutely, a steely glimmer of determination appearing in his gaze as he helps you to a sitting position, peering down at the sea of people through the balcony's rungs. "We get them out. Benji, can you trip the fire alarm?"

"I'll see if I can get remote access to it, but I doubt I'll be able to - this building is ancient. You're going to have to find one and trigger it manually."

Muttering various profanities, the man at your side jumps to his feet, straightening the tie he wears as you follow his actions, smoothing out your dress.

"How much time do we have?"

"Less than ten minutes, I'd imagine."

With a grimace, Ethan shares a solemn nod with you before raising his finger to his ear, sighing.

"Alright. Thank you, Benji. Now get as far away from here as you can."

And with that, your Partner removes the small device from his ear and tosses it to the ground, crushing it beneath his heel.

"He won't go, you know that right?"

At this, your fiancé simply nods, reaching out and grasping your hand in his.

"Come on," He urges, managing to offer a small smile. "We've got work to do."

****

Time was ticking.

Far faster than either of you really realized.

The alarm had been pulled, you both had made certain that the auditorium was clear before you'd even thought of fleeing the scene yourselves.

And now, the timer begins to wind down, your bare feet pounding against the lavish carpet of the foyer, the elegantly dressed people standing gathered outside, making their ways away from where you're running through merely onlookers to everything happening behind you.

You can feel the heat on your back.

You had heard the explosion seconds ago.

And as you're thrown forward and out into the rainy midnight streets of Vienna, hitting against the pavement with a sickening thud barely audible to your fading senses, a single thought runs through your mind.

Benji better have listened.

****

You're slow to come to, futilely attempting to shake away the haziness from your mind.

Someone is calling your name, the voice sounding familiar, but you're unable to identify just who's trying to get your attention.

But then, a blurry mess of a face is looming over you, soot and what appears to be blood adorning his features as he nears you, the vague feeling of being lifted to your feet rippling through you.

"We've got to move! They're closing in on us and fast!"

An urgency is laced in someone else's tone, a tone that also carries an all too familiar accent in it.

Benji?!

Pieces of awareness gradually trickle back to you, your mind beginning to clear as you blink a few times against the blurriness around your vision, a different face now in front of you.

"Benji?! What the hell are you still doing here?" You rasp through gritted teeth, wincing as you step away from the side of the man who'd lifted you back to your feet, passing him a thankful glance.

"That's what he said, too," Benji exclaims, gesturing rather dramatically to your Partner, who just shrugs, a concerned gaze skimming over your bruised and beat up figure before surveying the area where the three of you stand. "Geez, you two are so alike, it's no wonder you're getting married!"

You pay no mind to your friend's jab, however, you too allowing your gaze to skim over the dimly lit area surrounding you.

The opera house is in flames, the distant wailing of sirens and the chatter of people mingling down the street aways reaching your gradually sharpening senses.

But there are others.

Five to be exact.

Clad in all black, rifles clearly held in their grasps as they approach the group of you, your backs instinctively finding one another's as you stare down the newfound enemies approaching.

"You did good, Hunt!" The tallest and most evidently well-built one calls out, a jeering in his tone. "Managed to save the lives of those pathetic elites! America would be proud to know how much you represented true patriotism, but you know what?"

Ethan just chuckles lowly from your side, shaking his head.

"Yeah," He begins, a breathy laugh escaping him. "I'll be blamed for it. What's new?"

The leader just grins wickedly, resuming his strides towards where the three of you stand, holding your ground.

"Which is why I've got to bring you all back in buckets to prove that I'm not the enemy here, you and your Syndicate pals are."

"Good luck with that, American," A new, thickly accented tone chirps from behind you, an evident smirk in his tone. "You are outnumbered and outgunned."

"Fair point."

And as the people surrounding you shift their stances, their boots gripping against the wet pavement beneath them and their gazes switching to the sights on their firearms, you find yourself rushing towards the one nearest you, Ethan and Benji following by your side.

Your fist makes contact with the woman's face that you'd rushed towards, her body stumbling backwards as you use the momentum to your advantage, tackling her to the ground and relieving her of her weapon, rendering her unconscious with a hit to the side of the head with the stock of her rifle, now in your grasp.

Skittering behind one of the parked cars that are now flipped over and charred to the point of no return, you grimace, shaking the pain from your hand that had taken the blunt force.

"Alright! What the hell is next?!" The less experienced field agent yells over the clamor as he and your fiancé join you behind the parked vehicle, Ethan at your side, Benji across from you, behind another vehicle, a pistol in his grasp.

The shady figures that had surrounded you are closing in once more as bullets fly, pinging loudly off of the twisted metal vehicle frames you're hiding behind.

"The local authorities should be here soon," Your Partner suggests, grimacing as another flurry of gunfire erupts. "We use them as our cover."

Surprise ripples through you at Ethan's suggestion as you pass him the rifle you hold, swapping him for the handgun he'd also managed to grab.

"You think we can hold out until then?" You murmur softly, scooting closer to his side as a bullet whizzes past your opposite side.

"We don't really have much of a choice."

Sighing shakily, you sum up whatever scrap of courage you have left, steeling yourself for the next few minutes that could mean the difference between life or death.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Lane was supposed to have been found, we confront him, bring him in, prove the Syndicate exists and then we leave.

Leave the IMF, the running...

All behind.

But yet here you are instead, various bleeding cuts and scrapes littering your bare arms and face, soaked to the bone in rain water, crouched behind a car that had just been in the very same explosion you'd miraculously escaped from, pinned down by aggressors armed to the teeth.

But something pulls you from your thoughts.

A movement.

So brief and dull you momentarily question if you're seeing things.

But then there's the glimmer...

Panic cuts through you like the blade of the knife that had caught your eye as you bolt to your feet and throw yourself towards the British agent across from you, his eyes widening in realization as you tackle him aside...

Rolling for a moment as your body lands at the feet of the man who'd been lurking in the shadows, an all too familiar cool pressing to your damp forehead.

But it doesn't linger very long as Benji fires two precise shots, the man who'd been holding you at gunpoint falling limply to the ground.

"Thanks," You breathe as you struggle to your feet, rubbing your side in protest, your ribs aching from being met head on by wet pavement.

Though something doesn't feel right.

"Y/N, you're-"

But Benji doesn't even get to finish his sentence as you feel your knees buckle beneath you, a sudden pain so immense blossoming in your side it makes your head spin, your senses once again becoming muddled.

"Oh," You hear yourself chuckle aloud, pulling away your hands that had been rubbing away the pain, only to see them bathed in a sickening crimson. "That would explain that pain."

And as you lay there against the damp pavement, the sirens now much closer than before, you find yourself smiling up at the rainy sky, the features of the man you'd previously tackled aside appearing in front of your blurring vision.

"You really just took a bullet for me?!"

"It wasn't intentional, I was trying to get that crazy Russian with a knife away from you!" You laugh, your brain struggling to string together cohesive thoughts.

And darkness engulfs you.

****

You come to with a groggy cough of awareness, your body instinctively bolting upright from where you lie.

But a set of unwavering hands find your shoulders, easing you back down against the thinly padded surface you're currently against.

"You'll rip the stitches in your side if you aren't careful," A familiarly warm tone sounds from beside you, the one hand that had been on your shoulder finding its way to your open palm, giving your hand a light reassuring squeeze.

Blinking away the grain in your eyes, you force them open, hazy gaze settling on a set of features that flood your body with relief.

"Ethan," You breathe, the tension that had rippled through you mere seconds ago ebbing away almost as if it never existed, though a knowing grin tugs at the edges of your chapped lips. "What hospital will we have to escape from this time?"

At this, your fiancé chuckles, sparing a glance out into the hallway before turning his attention back to your bed-ridden figure.

"Just Vienna General," He explains, leaning closer to you, tone dropping. "But we'll worry about that when you're back on your feet. For now, you're just Sophie Jones, an American tourist visiting Vienna with your husband, James Jones."

"Those are the best names you could come up with?"

Your Partner just shrugs as you vainly attempt to huff a laugh, wincing as you do so.

A light silence settles between the pair of you, neither of you knowing quite where to begin.

But one question nags at the back of your muddled thoughts.

"Where's Benji?"

Ethan sighs, blinking a few times before continuing, a frown tugging at his lips.

"On his way back to the CIA."

"But he'll have been blamed for what happened! Word will've gotten out that he was with the two of us, by now!" You hiss lowly, disbelief laced in your tone as it cracks, sorrowed realization creeping in. "They'll double down twice as hard now, Ethan... we'll be on the run from even more governments once the CIA gets everyone else on board."

"Yeah... we will be," He trails off, gaze wandering over your figure before holding your own gaze, unwavering. "Which is why you need to rest up. It could be a while before we get away with proper medical treatment again."

Nodding wordlessly, your head flops back against the pillows, a heavy sigh escaping your lips.

"Thank you."

Ethan's voice takes you by surprise, your head tilting to meet his gaze yet again, prompting him to continue.

"If you hadn't acted as quick as you did, Benji would've been..."

"I know," You mumble, offering a tired smile. "But we agreed he wasn't supposed to get involved in our mess... so I had to do something."

Now it's your fiancé's turn to nod, passing you a grateful glance.

"I'll go find us something to eat," Ethan hums, making his way to his feet, stooping down over you and pressing a kiss to your forehead before continuing on his way. "Don't go anywhere on me."

"Don't plan on it."

With one last sigh of relief and momentary ease, you settle back into the rather uncomfortable hospital bed, allowing your eyes to close and bathe you in a comfortable darkness.

And as the hum of the hospital around you fades into a nothingness, you can't help but inwardly smile.

Whatever happens next...

We'll be fine.