A/N: This sorta takes place in an alternate timeline... Not entirely sure of where it would fit, but I wanted to include GP Ethan, because... reasons. Enjoy this mess?

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A steady pounding throbs in your head, the rest of your body also protesting in agony.

Why did this Mission, of all the ones, have to go off the rails?

It was supposed to have been an easy task - apprehending the seller and the buyer of some black market arms deal at whatever ridiculously fancy gala you'd found yourself attending mere hours ago.

But - you'd been set up.

Another team, maybe even more than just the ones you'd noticed, were also there.

Presumably from other intelligence agencies, but who knows?

Either way, you'd somehow managed to find yourself alive after one hell of a firefight.

Well, maybe you shouldn't have been alive - you had been at gunpoint...

Before he'd came out of nowhere, swiftly grabbing the firearm from the darkly clad figure's grip and turning it against him, a warning shot being fired into the snowy ground beneath you, the bullet melting the white, quickly revealing the cement beneath.

Your aggressor was sent running after your rescuer had delivered an array of injuries to the man who'd nearly shot you in the head at point blank range.

Almost as if your adrenaline had suddenly ran out, your knees had buckled, the shock from everything that had transpired over the past few minutes finally beginning to sink in.

But, once more, you hadn't fallen.

A steady set of hands had found a firm yet gentle grip on your bicep and wrist as he'd helped you back to your feet, his grip not vanishing.

And when you'd finally looked up, after limping through the snow for a few moments, your weight resting heavily on the man at your side, your heart had sank.

The usually charismatic and warm features of Ethan Hunt almost appeared stone cold - his face pale, green gaze rather distant.

His longer hair had fallen from where it had been pushed back in a neat fashion, dotted with flecks of the large snowflakes falling from the night sky.

But when you'd made an attempt to pull away from his grip around you, his gaze had immediately snapped towards you, a tired, genuine concern heavy in his eyes.

"Let's get somewhere warm," He'd hummed softly as you'd managed a weak nod, the shivers that had been running through you non-stop before beginning to subside, a pang of concern chorusing through you

"You know," You'd mused back in response, using your free hand to tug the flimsy jacket you'd worn closer around your torso in a vain attempt to keep warm. "This jacket is terrible."

At this, your Partner had chuckled softly, somehow managing to seem upbeat, even dispite the fact the pair of you know right well what happens now.

"I honestly wasn't expecting snow," He returned, pulling you even closer into his side as if to offer some warmth.

But, nonetheless, snow had arrived.

And it continues relentlessly, the sudden cold whistle of the wind pounding against the rather rickety window frame above where you lay, making you jump in slight alarm.

You're alone.

Ethan had risked the venture back into the city to gather a few supplies, this particular safe house having never been completely replenished.

Either that or some other people found a way in and raided the place.

Regardless, there was no food, no water, no First Aid supplies, no nothing when the pair of you had stumbled inside about an hour ago after the trek through the snowstorm.

You'd instantly crashed down against the rather uncomfortable couch, which, is still where you lay.

Aching.

And beginning to feel that rising feeling of dread everyone keeps as far away from their conscious mind as they can.

But when you're alone...

Your mind wanders...

Sighing shakily, you allow a shiver to run through your body, goosebumps playing on your skin.

It had been obvious that the aggressors at the gala had targeted you.

It figures.

You don't exactly have the same physique as your Partner.

You always seem to look vulnerable.

Though, you're the farthest thing from that.

Wincing, a recollection so brief passes through your thoughts, it makes you whimper in pain, your eyes forcing themselves closed.

You'd been surrounded - out numbered and outgunned.

Though, you'd managed to make a decent dent in the mass, only three left to take you down.

A knife had nearly missed your throat, instead, glancing your shoulder.

You'd let out an enraged cry of agony, sending that man tumbling towards the ground, rendering him unconscious.

But now...

You lay alone.

The throbbing wound on your shoulder making you shudder in pain.

It had been when he'd chased you outside, into the snow, no longer backed by his two comrades.

That's when you'd realized your seemingly inevitable demise.

They'd done a number on you - the last two.

The cut on your shoulder, the array of bruises no likely already beginning to show... no doubt a sprained wrist...

You'd admitted defeat.

Faced death right in the face as the snow had fallen past you in the open courtyard, the music from the gala dampened by the storm.

But then death was gone.

In the blink of an eye.

And instead replaced with life.

Even if it was duller than before.

The squeak of the door opening pulls you from your thoughts, a weary and rather blurry gaze raising to meet the newcomer.

"You holding down that couch?" Ethan teases, setting the few bags down on the table before shedding his shoes and jacket.

Though as he hangs his jacket up, you watch his entire demeanor change, eyes widening and movements quickening.

Your foggy thoughts momentarily become clearer, realization flooding your system, the memory of your shoulder wound being brought back to the forefront of your mind.

"Why the hell did you not tell me you'd been hit?" He demands softly yet sternly as he nears your fading figure, pushing aside the blood stained shoulder of the dress you wear to reveal your wound.

"I guess things happened so fast, I forgot," You somehow manage to croak, as he just frowns, passing you a disapproving look.

Though inwardly, you know you didn't forget.

It's almost as if your brain just wouldn't allow you to say anything, too focused on the pain to string anything else together.

"You've gotta tell me these things, Y/N."

Hissing, you attempt to pull away from his grip as he cleans the wound, the cotton swab with the solution in his grasp quickly staining red.

"Would you just-" You protest with a yelp, Ethan's other free hand clamping down on your un-injured bicep, effectively pinning you to the spot.

"Do you really want to just bleed out everywhere?!"

"I'll be fine! Just leave it!" You yell louder this time, yelping in pain as he pushes the wound together before quickly reaching for the bandages.

His movements are slow and steady as he patches you up, your own heightened breathing gradually falling into sync with his, calming your nerves.

"You all good now?" Ethan muses, sighing heavily as he sits back slightly, his green gaze meeting yours.

Wordlessly, you nod, your Partner's grip on your bicep disappearing, along with his warmth.

A silence settles within the safe house, other than the sound of soup cans being opened and the storm howling outside, rattling the window panes.

But even in your utterly exhausted state, you manage to pull yourself to a sitting position, silently watching Ethan's movements from across the way.

He wears a plain black Henley shirt, the buttons not bothered to be done up, accompanied by a pair of black jeans, his hair still messy from the ordeal at the gala, the longer loose strands occasionally falling down to frame his features.

He seems almost completely at ease, but you've known him long enough to know that he's concerned.

The consistency of his motions are a tell tale sign of that.

"Ethan," You state aloud, your voice echoing back at you rather loud to your still slightly elevated senses, making you wince.

The brunet silently turns around, an eyebrow raised quizzically, glass of water in hand.

It takes you a moment, the words that you were going to say somehow managing to vanish into thin air as you blink a few times, your Partner seeming to be waiting for you to finish your thought.

"If it's about what happened at the gala, I have no idea who those other guys were," He explains, his back once more turning to you as he continues, grabbing two bowls from the cupboard accompanied by the clatter of cheap spoons. 

"Well, not yet, anyway."

Wordlessly, you simply watch him wander back towards you, two bowls of warm soup in hand, setting them down on the coffee table with a clatter.

"They all certainly seemed to know what they were doing," You mutter, cradling the bowl in your hands, gesturing to your patched up shoulder. "So we can scratch off hired hands."

"Hired, inexperienced, hands."

You shrug at his correction, truth ringing in his statement.

You've dealt with plenty of experienced aggressors who'd been hired by someone without experience.

The people hired to do the dirty work.

And it's even worse when they aren't getting paid enough - then they're even worse to deal with.

Mentally shrugging, you allow the warmth of the small meal send a temporary halt to the shivers that had been bothering you, a sudden thankfulness swelling within you.

"Thanks..." You begin softly, not trusting your voice to raise much louder. "For everything."

The man sitting across from you nods slightly, the ghost of a grin tugging at the edges of his lips.

"Just trying to keep you alive awhile longer," He jokes, clambering to his feet, gathering your now empty dish along with his, heading towards the kitchen.

"So when can the Team get to us for an extraction?"

At this, the Agent comes to a halt, mid-stride, turning to face you with a rather stoic look.

"They are getting to us, right?"

Ethan just grimaces, wordlessly shaking his head.

"Sunday. They'll be here Sunday. Until then, though..."

Your Partner resumes his motions, the dishes clattering into the sink.

"We're on our own."

"With potential armed hostiles after us, an injured Agent and limited supplies?"

A light chuckle sounds from the other person in the room, a shake of his head following.

"That sounds about right, for us anyways."

"You can say that again," You grumble, sinking back into the couch cushions, your mind beginning to run through a list of... everything.

"How many rounds of nine millimeter do we have left?"

"Not much. Enough for one clip each, likely."

"MRE's? Were there any stocked?"

"A few."

"What about any winter gear? Were there any-"

Your sentence is cut short, however, as a pillow is tossed towards you, hitting you directly in the face.

"What the hell was that for, Hunt?!" You question, grabbing the pillow and sitting up with a confused glare, only to meet a rather humored looking Ethan, standing at the end of the couch, gaze on you.

Your Partner simply shrugs, a glimmer of something... you've been seeing a lot more of lately, shining in his gaze.

Though all you can do is watch him as he nears your side, taking a seat in the empty spot in front of where you lay.

"Just relax, Y/N. Everything's already been noted. We'll be fine."

"Fine by your standards," You huff in reply, though when his sudden touch makes contact with your bare shoulder, something inside you clicks.

The constant throbbing radiating throughout your entire being comes to a halt, instead replaced by the sudden pounding of your heart...

Accompanied quickly by a heat to your cheeks, no likely a deep crimson.

"Ethan, what are you-"

Once more, your sentence is cut short, your eyes widening as a finger is placed upon your lips, silencing you with ease.

"I thought I told you to relax," He murmurs, tone lower than normal, one that sends a... different kind of shiver dancing down your spine.

Rough yet gentle fingers trace softly over the bandages on your shoulder, slowly trailing up along your collarbone, towards the back of your neck.

And then they come to a halt.

Your eyes that had somehow managed to close for a moment, flutter open, blinking a few times in wonderment.

Ethan is much closer to you than before, his mesmerizing green gaze holding a sort of seeming desperation within it.

"I-" He starts, words not seeming to form as quickly as they should be.

You know exactly what this is.

That glimmer in his gaze you've been seeing more and more of...

The immense concern for your wellbeing in every single situation possible...

His suppressed anger as he'd helped you back to the safe-house, hours earlier...

That... look... he'd given you when you'd stepped out of that hotel bathroom, clad in the now ruined dress you wear.

And that same look you'd given him when you'd laid eyes on him in that suit...

Those surges of emotion at the worst possible times...

Your own fear for his life after you'd lost sight of him in the crowd of partygoers...

Not even giving your brain any time to think of any possible excuse, you grab the hem of your Partner's shirt, tugging him down towards you.

And he almost instinctively obliges, hand finding the back of your neck once more, steadying you as his lips come crashing down on yours, almost as if they'd done so thousands of times before.

His kiss absolutely takes your breath away, the worries of what could possibly transpire against the pair of you until Sunday, momentarily not a thought.

All that matters is Ethan.

"I think we just made these stakes even higher," You breathe with a lame attempt at a chuckle, your mind still coming down off of the momentary high.

"Maybe," The man holding you ponders, somehow managing to lay down completely beside you, pulling you into his chest. "But now you know why I can't lose you."

At this, you grin sleepily, the warmth from the long forgotten, dying fire in the fireplace now replaced by your newfound lover's warmth, his arms securing you to him.

"I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, Hunt, regardless of how many pillows you throw at me to shut me up."

"That is not what that was!"

"Yes it was."

"How do you know?"

"Because you didn't answer my question."

"And now you're delirious."

"And you're d-"

You stop mid sentence, a yawn interrupting you.

"Get some rest," Ethan murmurs, pulling you closer, your head finding a resting place in the crook of his neck.

"You too. Just relax."

"I am relaxed."

"No you're not."

With a huff of a feigned sigh that follows you into the depths of sleep, you allow yourself to drift.

Held tightly in a pair of strong arms of a man who you know for certain won't let anything happen to you.