[Fanfic] Poker Night Gone Wrong

[shuufleur93]

Title: Poker Night Gone Wrong
Fandom: Mission: Impossible, James Bond (Craig Movies)
Word Count: 9634
Type: OS
Rating: T
Relationships: Benji Dunn & Ethan Hunt
Additional Tags: Q cameo, Canon-Typical Violence, Pining, Pre-Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending
Summary: A mission not going according to plan shouldn’t surprise Benji. And yet, Luther and he have to work with Bond to find and save Ethan.
Notes: Written for Ships Crossing 2025.
AO3 Link: Poker Night Gone Wrong

“Hey, Luther,” Benji greeted as he arrived at his desk, putting his bag on the ground and getting his computer out of sleep. “Ethan’s in yet?”

On his computer screen, the things he had left open the night before (probably about 4 or 5 hours earlier) popped up.

“Went into the conference room about a half an hour ago.”

“New mission?”

Luther shrugged, focused on his computer screen.

“Maybe.”

“Great. How long has it been since our last mission?”

“Two weeks.”

“Too long, in my opinion.”

Benji opened the bag from the bakery he went to this morning and took a long sniff of the still warm brioche he bought. He could already taste the buttery goodness.

“I’d rather not get blown up every time we go out,” Luther replied matter-of-factly. “And I like the lull between missions. It almost feels like a vacation.”

Luther wasn’t wrong, and he was probably thinking about their last big mission, where he almost didn’t make it. Again.

“Sure, but I like my vacations with more beaches and fewer office buildings,” Benji said with a sigh. Although he still liked to research and find out ways to make their technology better, safer and faster, he really took a liking to going on missions with everyone. It felt fulfilling in a way he hadn’t considered before.

Not long after his second coffee of the morning, Ethan, wearing a navy-blue suit, reappeared in the open space, looking displeased and a little tired. Benji went to get him an espresso. Ethan took Benji’s seat, unbuttoned his jacket, and grabbed one of Benji’s pens to play with it.

Ethan didn’t have an official desk, like Luther or Benji. He was supposed to use some of those “flex” desks, but he didn’t like to do that, preferring to use Benji’s or Luther’s when needed, which was surprisingly often.

“How was the meeting? A new mission?”

Benji gave him the cup. Ethan raised a tired eyebrow but grinned at Benji’s barely hidden enthusiasm. Sue him, he needed to do something, and Ethan was the best person to understand it. The other man, though, decided to take his sweet time before replying, drinking his espresso first.

“Don’t get too excited. You don’t know where we’re going.”

“We?” Luther asked with suspicion in his voice.

Ethan turned the chair to face him.

“That’s right. You, too, Luther.”

Luther let out a big sigh, murmuring that he needed to cancel his plans now.

“So, where are we going?” Benji asked, sitting on his desk. Instantly, Ethan rolled over to him, letting his knee touch Benji’s leg, making his heart race a little. He was tempted to put his hand on Ethan but refrained from it even though he probably wouldn’t mind as he was a rather tactile person. It was kind of torture for Benji, whose heart always jumped at each touch, smile or compliment Ethan liked to dole out like candy. Benji was always twisted up whenever Ethan showed his more caring side, the temptation to kiss him growing stronger as Benji’s feelings did.

From the corner of the eye, he saw Luther shaking his head gently. Somehow, he correctly deduced Benji’s infatuation with their team leader and either didn’t approve or thought Benji was foolish.

“I don’t want to spoil the surprise,” Ethan replied with a smirk.

Benji eyed Ethan suspiciously. He didn’t like the answer but knew there was no point in insisting now, so instead he shooed Ethan so he could get back to work.

*

Benji stepped outside their hotel room and regretted it instantly. He pulled up his scarf so that it covered his nose and mouth and made sure his beanie was still protecting his poor ears from the biting cold.

Ethan stepped out in a similar get-up, except he forwent the scarf, and he didn’t even look cold. Damn him and his perfect face.

“Aren’t you cold?” Benji asked Ethan, scowling, because he was curious and maybe a little masochist.

“Well, I’m dressed for the weather.”

Ethan quirked a smile, looking up and down at Benji in a very unfortunate disinterested look. Not that Benji felt particularly sexy in his big coat, gloves and snow boots contrary to Ethan. "I’m dressed appropriately too! And look at Luther.”

Benji pointed Luther, who had so many layers, he looked like a mummy threw up twice on him. Benji was just glad he left enough space for his eyes.

“He’s going to stay inside.”

“Exactly.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow.

“Come on, Benji. We’re going to be late.”

The three men climbed into the van, Luther at the wheel. The latter put the heat on max and Benji almost cried in relief. During the ride, Luther reminded them of the mission plan.

“And remember, be discreet,” Luther added unnecessarily as he parked two streets over the bar they were supposed to go in, “We don’t want another international scandal.”

“Not my fault,” Benji murmured. Luther snorted while Ethan threw him a warning look. Benji wasn’t the one always targeted by explosions and accidents, and oh you know, gassing an entire room full of high-ranking US government employees.

”I know we said I’d go in first, but you should, since you’re so cold,” Ethan suggested, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

Benji didn’t have the energy to protest, since he was right and he wasn’t going to look for a gift horse in the mouth.

”Well, thank you, kind Sir,” Benji replied, bowing his head. “Allow me to show you the latest fares.”

Ethan shook his head, eyes crinkling, while Luther rolled his eyes. He grabbed the mask machine that had finished creating the new mask Ethan was going to wear.

“Meet Igor Jones, a Russian English businessman specialized in defense contracts, and also our honey pot.”

“Honey pot?” Ethan asked with furrowed eyebrows as he stuck the voice changer on his throat.

“Petrovich and he seem to be involved. I couldn’t confirm it, they seem to be very secretive people. Wonder why. Anyway,” Benji added. “Jones is currently having a wonderful time in Hawaiʻi surrounded by white sand beaches, cocktails and, of course, casinos.”

“How does it sound?” Ethan asked; his voice now changed.

”Perfect, like always.”

He then put on the mask. Benji helped him out smoothing out any wrinkles. Ethan flashed him a smile, which looked weird on this unfamiliar face.

“Thanks, Benji. Come on, let’s go now.”

Benji quickly made his way to the bar, cursing the freezing weather. The bar was the opposite: a wall of heat, a mix of too many people in the same contained small space and heaters spewing heat like their lives depended on it. Quickly, Benji removed his beanie, gloves and scarf, shoving them into his big coat, which he unzipped, and made his way to the bar.

“Что я могу вам предложить?” the waiter asked with a bored face.

This guy’s face wouldn’t earn him any beauty points. His nose was crooked, as if he never bothered to set it right after getting punched. A thin white scar ran down from under his earlobe to the corner of his mouth. What was the most fascinating thing was his shiny, luscious black hair, cut rather short on the sides and left longer on the top of the head.

Benji took a sheepish expression.

“Sorry, I don’t speak Russian. Не говорит по-русски.”

Hopefully, his pronunciation wasn’t too abysmal. The waiter sighed.

“What do you want?”

“Beer. Lager, if you have. IPA. Anything, really.”

Benji tried for a charming smile but the other man didn’t seem too keen on it. There were about half a dozen beers on tap; only a couple of them were international brands. The waiter chose one of the beers Benji didn’t know and served him.

“Pay,” the waiter said, his tone baring no discussion, as he presented him with the card reader. Benji did as he was told just as Ethan made his entrance. They shared a glance before the other man went to the service door. He knocked and was invited in.

Benji took his pint to a more or less isolated spot from the crowd while waiting for Ethan’s confirmation. He found an empty table and hurried to get it. It seemed to be a popular bar, or maybe people were just running from the cold, and Benji couldn’t blame them. He could still feel the cold’s tongue on his skin.

“I’m in,” Ethan’s voice said in Benji’s headset. “Looking for our target.”

“Luther, tell me you got the cameras.”

Without saying a word, Luther shared the live feed with him.

“Good man,” Benji said as a thanks, going through all the videos from the bar until he found the ones in the illegal casino in the basement.

While Benji sipped nervously on the lager (not a bad one), he looked for Ethan in the rather surprisingly full casino, a tad more complicated when he wasn’t standing out. He finally found him near a blackjack table. He had lost his big coat, showing his fancy suit. The face wasn’t the same, but Benji would probably be able to recognize him anyway.

“Ethan,” Luther said, “10 o’clock, the poker table.”

Ethan turned towards the table where three people were already sitting. One man and a woman. She had her back turned away from the camera.

“The man is Steve Roberts, an American entrepreneur. He’s the CEO of the Safeguard private security firm, amongst other things.”

Ethan walked to the table and asked to join. Roberts looked in askance at the woman.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize we would be joined by a beautiful woman,” Ethan commented as he took the woman’s hand and kissed it lightly, the gesture twisting something inside Benji.

“Charmer,” Petrovich said with a smile on her face.

“For you? Always,” Ethan replied smoothly, taking the seat next to her. She gestured to one of the waiters and Ethan was provided with a flute of Champagne. Petrovich stared at him for a couple of seconds before putting her hand on Ethan’s thigh and directed it inward. Benji preferred to look elsewhere while Ethan put down his chips.

“May I join?” a new man asked. He was tall, blond and smirked like they already owed him money.

Petrovich removed her hand to face the newcomer.

“I don’t think we’ve met before, Mister…?”

“Beech, Arlington Beech, but you can call me Arl.”

Luther chimed in, “Arlington Beech is a British citizen and a professional gambler. There’s not much else to him.”

Benji wondered if he was a wannabe weapons trafficker or looking for thrills.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Beech. I’m Miss Petrovich,” she replied, raising her glass. “This is an old friend of mine, Mr. Jones, and this is a new friend of mine, Mr. Roberts. Welcome to our table. The bid starts at 15,000 rubles.”

“Perfect.”

He dumped his chips on the table. A glint lit up Petrovich’s eyes.

“I think we can start. Let the game begin and may the best win.”

At that point, it became a little boring for Benji, so he started to busy himself with side tasks. He checked on Ethan from time to time, but on the fifth hand, he had everyone laughing and charmed. And who wouldn’t be? Well, apart from Beech, who seemed to hate Ethan as minutes went by and was looking at Ethan with calculating eyes.

Trusting Ethan to handle himself, Benji went back to his own activity. He pointed down on a square and he squinted as he counted silently. He wrote down 1, 6 and 8, but crossed out the 8 when he noticed it was doubled on the same square. After a few seconds of musing, he added a 5 with an interrogation point next to it.

“Benji?”

He followed the line he had been filling and suddenly realized there was already a 5, so he crossed it out and thought about it for a few more seconds.

“Benji!” Luther’s voice interrupted this time, startling him. He hit his knee on the underside of the table, making him swear and wobble his pint, spitting out some beer. Some of the other patrons looked at him. Benji smiled a little sheepishly.

“Football.”

A few of the men nodded sagely as if that was a perfectly good explanation, and everyone went back to their conversations and their drinks.

“I’m here, I’m here. What’s up?”

“What were you doing?” Ethan asked, sounding more amused than pissed.

“Nothing,” Benji replied, putting the Sudoku back in his pockets as if the other man could see it. Luther could definitely see him, so he’d probably sell Benji out to Ethan, the traitor.

“If you say so. What can you tell me about this Beech guy? I have a feeling he’s not what he says he is.”

“There’s nothing more to tell,” Luther replied, sounding amused too. “He’s apparently a professional gambler. I’ve found his name in some known tournaments. Nothing weird jumped out to me.”

Ethan hummed.

“Wait, where are you? It sounds awfully echo-y,” Benji asked.

“I’m in the bathroom right now. I should get back. But let me know if you learn anything about Beech.”

Something on the live feed from the casino pulled his attention. A man dressed in a suit, looking very much like a henchman, leaned over to talk to Miss Petrovich’s ear. Even from his perspective, Benji could see her shoulders tensing.

“Hm, Ethan, be careful out there. It seems Petrovich received bad news.”

In the video, Ethan had just reappeared and barely faltered on his way back to the table.

“It seems that somebody isn’t truthful about who they are,” Petrovich announced when Ethan sat back on his chair.

Benji switched to a private channel with Luther.

“What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know. Do you think Ethan is made?”

Benji glanced at the door leading to the casino, still closed, then back to the video, where Petrovich stared down each man at the table—including Ethan, who was supposed to be her “friend”.

“Marina,” Ethan said with a worried furrow. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t think it’s very polite to infiltrate my game,” Miss Petrovich replied, calmly. “Especially when I did not invite you.”

She put something on the table that Benji couldn’t see, but seeing the reactions of the other men, he could guess what she brought.

“I don’t think it’s necessary to do that,” Ethan said, a pleasant smile on his lips. “We’re all friends here, right?”

He made a point of looking at both men. Beech and Roberts nodded slowly.

“Let’s not ruin this game that was going so well,” Ethan continued, extending his arm towards her hidden hand. Petrovich jerked away and stood.

“I do not appreciate being lied to.”

She didn’t seem to be looking at Ethan, but rather at Roberts. Beech looked surprised.

“What?”

The other clients of the casino started to take notice, some of them already gathering their winnings and leaving.

She laughed out loud. “You’re very good, I admit, but your friends, not so much.”

Roberts went pale then red with anger, spitting out, “How dare you accuse me of such disgusting actions! I’m not your enemy! He’s probably the spy!”

He was pointing at Beech, who suddenly got up, his gun trained on Petrovich. Predictably, the other clients and dealers scrambled to get away. The door on the first floor smashed open, drawing everyone’s attention.

“I’m going in,” Benji said to Luther before switching back to the open channel, as all the other clients from the casino were leaving. “Ethan, I’m coming down.”

“No!” Ethan shouted, making Benji freeze. “Marina, that’s the wrong way to do it,” he said in Russian, “if he’s a spy, we need to know what he knows.”

But Beech didn’t share the same opinion. He threw something on the ground, which exploded in a blinding light. The video feed was cut off.

“Shit!” Benji swore as he ran towards the service door. He tried to get the video back up but was only getting black screens. The connection was lost.

“Luther? I don’t have access to the cameras anymore.”

“I don’t either,” Luther’s tight voice replied. “What’s happening, Benji?”

Something which sounded like gunfire erupted from below.

“Bloody hell.”

The night couldn’t have gone more wrong. Benji slipped through the door and followed the stairs down to the basement.

Screams and shouts in Russian and English floated to him. He took his gun and started to advance carefully up to the casino. Benji peeked inside the room. A couple of tables were turned over, bullet holes etched into the fabric. The henchman that warned Petrovich earlier was joined by another henchman, both pointing their guns at one of the overturned tables. Benji couldn’t see Beech or Ethan. Petrovich suddenly appeared in Benji’s field of view.

“I do not appreciate when foreigners come in and get involved in matters that don’t concern them.”

“Ethan?” Benji whispered, staying behind the wall’s safety. “If you have a plan, it’s now or never.”

“Marina, please, listen to me,” Ethan said, “The police will come now. We have to go.”

She looked to her right, then back to the overturned table.

“Not before I get the spy.”

She gestured to her henchmen, and they strode as one man. Beech sprung up, and before Benji could warn Ethan, threw another flash bang in the air. It exploded with a big boom and a flash of light, deafening and blinding Benji. Smoke filled up the room, then the hallway. The acrid smell made him choke and cry at the same time. He crawled away, coughing.

“Ethan? Can you hear me?”

Benji put his scarf around his mouth and nose. The smoke still stung his eyes but at least he could breathe a little better. As he got to the door, Ethan appeared in front of him, an arm around Petrovich, quickly followed by one of the henchmen. She was hiding her face in his neck. Ethan shook his head minutely and shoved Benji out of the way, their feet thundering past him.

In the room, the smoke was barely clearing up. Benji had to sidestep handbags, chips, fallen chairs, and a couple of guns. The other henchman was dead on the ground, next to Roberts. Benji stepped on traces of blood that went all the way up to where Beech had been standing. The ‘spy’ was also lying on the ground unconscious, a big, bleeding gash on his forehead. Benji crouched and checked his pulse. At least he wasn’t dead.

*

“Go, go, go, go,” Benji shouted to Luther as he closed the doors to the van. Luther drove away just as cop cars arrived on the scene. Beech was still unconscious, but they cuffed him to the bench anyway. Benji got onto his tablet to check on Ethan’s position. The dot blinked on the map and he let out of a relieved breath. He still had his phone on him, they would be able to follow him.

“Where are they going?"

“It looks like they’re going out of town in the East.”

Turning to Beech, Benji muttered, “Alright, let’s see who you are.”

He took a picture of his face and ran it through the IMF database. Since he sounded British, Benji had an inkling he might be MI6, so he also sent his picture to Ilsa. She may know him.

As Luther drove, following Ethan’s trail, Benji provided basic first aid kit to Beech then went back into Petrovich’s file. There must be something that might give them a clue to where they could go. Petrovich used to be a top model.

Ten years ago, she married a businessman who liked to dabble in criminal activities, notably arms trafficking, and retired. Mr. Petrovich got caught—not by the IMF—about three years ago and was sent to prison.

Apparently, his wife continued to grow the criminal empire. When Benji looked into Petrovich’s potential properties in the region, he had found about half a dozen; houses, warehouses, companies, too many for them to check beforehand. They could only play catch up with Ethan, and Benji hated doing that.

With a sigh, he looked up from his tablet just in time to see Beech jumping on him. Benji hit his head against the wall, stunning him.

“Benji!” Luther shouted, but he couldn’t answer him as Beech got him in a chokehold. Benji couldn’t find anything to hit Beech, so instead Benji grabbed Beech’s junk and twisted. He was gratified with a grunt of pain and a release. Benji scrawled back, coughing and found a taser in one of weapon’s cache.

When Beech lunged for Benji again, the latter struck him with the taser. Beech seized up, eyes going wide and face slack with angry surprise. But he was still standing. His eyes narrowed and Benji started to panic. The doors from the van opened. Beech turned around as Luther shot him with an anesthetic dart. Beech slapped a hand where the syringe had implanted itself. He was still standing, so for good measure, Benji tased him again. Finally, the man went down.

“Bloody hell, is he a machine?!"

Benji passed his fingers on his bruised neck.

“Are you alright, Benji?”

“Yeah, still got a few brain cells, I’m afraid. What now?”

“Let’s secure him and find out who he really is.”

By the time they discovered that Petrovich and Ethan were heading towards an airfield in the middle of nowhere, Beech woke up again, glaring at Benji. The latter tried to put as much distance as possible between them. The search through the IMF database gave nothing, but Ilsa came back to them. She had sent part of his file that was mostly redacted, with only his picture, his name and his active status with MI6 readable.

“Apparently, we’re on the same side, Mr. Bond,” Benji said, looking at the man.

Bond chuckled humorlessly, "If this is how you treat your allies, I feel sorry for your enemies.”

“You would have done the same thing if the role were reversed. You attacked me!"

“And you kidnapped me,” Bond retorted with a frown.

“We saved your life in that casino. You'd be rotting in prison if it weren’t for us.”

“I would have taken prison over this,” Bond said as he pulled on his cuffed hands.

Benji rolled his eyes. So dramatic. They were definitely better than prison.

“Or maybe we should have left you in Petrovich’s hands instead."

“I’m just wondering why you thought it would be a good idea to take me with you, even before you knew who I was."

“We didn’t have time to stop and interrogate you, so, now you’re here. How long to the airfield?” Benji asked Luther.

“Fifteen minutes.”

“If we’re on the same side, can you remove the cuffs?”

“Before I do that, can you promise there’s not going to be any retaliation for what we did earlier, which, by the way, was self-defense.”

“Oh, I see,” Bond replied, unimpressed. “I should just let it go. Knocked out, tased. I’m lucky to be alive.”

“The first knock out was your own doing,” Benji replied testily.

“Untie me,” Bond ordered, adding a “please” to soften it when Benji narrowed his eyes. "Now, will you introduce yourself or should I assume you’ve lied to me?"

Bond massaged his abused wrists and crossed one leg over the other in a nonchalant manner.

“CIA? ASIS? You couldn’t be DGSE or MI6. CSIS, maybe.”

“I can list other foreign secret services too,” Benji retorted. “But that wouldn’t be very productive, would it? We’re the IMF. Benji Dunn,” he said, pointing at himself, “Luther Stickell. We have another agent undercover with Petrovich right now."

Bond seemed to think back to the poker game.

“Jones or Roberts?”

“Jones."

“IMF,” Bond mused, “You’re not really known for your subtlety."

“And MI6 seemed to love abandoning their agents. Where’s your team?"

So, maybe he was still a little miffed by what they did to Ilsa. And maybe Benji held grudges a little too long.

“I usually work alone,” Bond said, not a care in the world. “People get in the way.”

“Well, that’s not how we work, so you’re gonna have to work with us.”

“And why would I do that?"

“Because you have no choice. Your mission isn’t over, right?"

Bond pursed his lips in annoyance.

“And I assume you also want to stop Petrovich from selling those nuclear weapons, and we’re bringing you to her.”

“Five minutes,” Luther warned.

Bond tilted his head and leaned in, his elbows on his thighs.

“Interesting that you think it’s about nuclear weapons.”

“It’s not?”

“Why would I tell you anyway?”

“Well, we’re currently your ride, so if you don’t want to tell us, we can just leave you here in the middle of nowhere." Banking on the chance the man wasn’t entirely a sociopath, Benji continued, “But we need your help to retrieve our agent. Petrovich has too many properties."

“We’re here,” Luther announced. They all got out of the van. The small airfield looked empty. There was only one hangar and a tower, and no plane or helicopter in sight.

“Wait,” Bond said before they went to the main office. “Can I get a coat or something else a little warmer?"

Both Benji and Luther looked at Bond. His suit was a little worse for wear; dust, holes and tears, with blood stains completing the image. It wasn’t warm enough to be standing outside.

“Righto. Let me get you something.”

Benji found a spare coat in the van and gave it to Bond, who put it on quickly. Once Bond cleaned himself up a little, the three men walked into the airfield.

“OK, who speaks Russian?” Benji asked when one of the employees saw them and approached them.

“I do. Let me ask the questions,” Bond replied easily.

While Bond went to talk to the employee, Benji turned to Luther.

“I don’t trust him.”

“Me either, but pretty he needs us as much as we need him.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Bond came back after he was done talking.

“They left in a helicopter. One man, one woman.”

“Bloody hell. We’re too late.”

Benji passed his hands on his hair as it dawned on him they still didn’t know where Ethan was going with Petrovich. He noticed Bond looking at him, so he tried to be less panicked and more professional. It wouldn’t help Ethan if he couldn’t keep it together. He looked at his tablet. Ethan’s dot was still blinking. Benji’s heart rate slowed down.

“Let’s regroup.”

The three men went back to the van.

“Bond, you said Petrovich wasn’t selling nuclear weapons. Can you tell us what she’s actually selling?”

Bond seemed to consider it.

“Let me borrow one of your phones. I need to ask my supervisors.”

Benji gave him his phone. Bond nodded as thanks and made his call a little farther away.

“You still have Ethan’s position?” Luther asked.

“Yes—wait a minute, I had it!”

Ethan’s dot had disappeared. It must have happened in the last 30 seconds or so.

“I really hate this mission,” Benji finally said when he couldn’t get the tracking on Ethan back.

“Told you we need vacation,” Luther replied. “A beach, cocktails, the sound of the sea…”

“I’m starting to like your idea,” Benji replied through gritted teeth.

“Maybe you could even ask Ethan to go with you.”

Benji’s face heated suddenly, and it wasn’t because of the wind’s biting cold.

“W—what do you mean?”

Luther shrugged, not elaborating as if it was supposed to be obvious. And maybe it was because Benji couldn’t see any other reason why Luther would say something like that, but he still needed to hear it. Before Benji could ask more questions, Bond came back.

“They’ve given me permission to brief you on my mission, and I’ve taken the liberty to have some things sent over here.”

“Sent over here? How long do you think we’re going to stay here?!”

“Between thirty minutes and an hour, no more. Trust me, where we’re going, we’re going to need it.”

Luther and Benji shared another look.

Benji sighed, “Fine. Let’s go back into the van while we wait, and you’ll tell us what you know.”

“As you know,” Bond started once they were all settled with a hot cup of coffee in their hands, “Petrovich married into crime. Her husband, Dmitri Petrovich, tried his hand at everything. Started with petty crimes and upgraded to more serious crimes until he found his way into arms dealing. Again, he started small; pistols, AK-47, then rocket launchers, nuclear launchers, and so on.”

Bond gestured for the sugar next to Benji. He was half-tempted not to give it to him.

“He was insatiable,” Bond replied, pouring some sugar in his coffee. “He realized this is where the money was. People never change. They always want what their neighbors have, and with weapons, you can get it much more easily. Can I get a tablet?”

Luther gave him one.

“We’re not sure how it came to be but before he was sent to prison, he was able to buy this facility.”

Bond turned the tablet towards them. It was a picture of two white buildings, linked by a bridge in the middle, and built on a mountain slope. He pulled up other images to show the construction of the building.

“The Horizon Research Center was built by the Horizon company, contracted by the Russian government in the 1990s, on the Sutto Mountain. Their primary goal was to study the mountain range environment, the soil, the air, and the vegetation. In short, what makes it tick. They made some interesting discoveries well into the years of the 2000s. Unfortunately, nature couldn’t win against capitalism, and it went downhill after the 2008 financial crisis. Rich backers removed their money, and the lab couldn’t sustain very much longer. It was left to abandon until Petrovich bought it.”

“What are they doing there?” Luther asked. “If not nuclear weapons.”

“MI6 got wind of something much more sinister and dangerous than nuclear weapons.”

Benji chuckled.

“How can it be more dangerous? It kills on the first strike and continues to kill decades after.”

Bond didn’t really smile. It looked more like a grimace.

“It’s much more pernicious.”

He tapped a few words on the tablet and pulled up an article.

“HARP?” Benji read.

“Horizon’s latest and last research program. HARP, or Horizon Atmospheric Research Program, led research on the atmosphere, and more specifically, how the ionosphere reacts to different inputs.”

“Other facilities do that already,” Benji said.

“Of course,” Bond nodded. “But Horizon wanted to go a bit further, so they asked themselves: can you control it?”

“Tell me they didn’t…”

“We don’t know,” Bond replied, handing the table to Luther, “Petrovich seemed sure it works, but MI6 doesn’t want to take any chances or risk the weapon falling under the wrong hands. My mission is to destroy it.”

“And not take it back home?” Benji asked with a rueful smile.

“No.”

But Bond’s answer didn’t really convince Benji. It almost felt like he was lying, and for once, he wasn’t going to say anything. If British spy wanted to destroy a weapon that powerful, who was he to stop him?

“So, you think they went there,” Luther said.

“Jones—the real one—was interested in buying it. If Petrovich still believes your teammate is Jones, then I don’t see where else they would go.”

After a few more explanations, they hashed out a quick plan to infiltrate the research facility.

An hour later or so, a drone, the size of a mid-size dog, dropped off a trunk near the van and flew off. Bond went to open it and started rifling through it.

“Dunn, I think this is for you.”

He handed him a note folded in two. Benji unfolded it and read it:

You still owe me 50 quid, B.

Mr. C. never caught on.

Q

The quick and uneven scrawl reminded Benji of young bespectacled man too clever for his own good.

“Q?” Benji said after retrieving his voice, “What kind of nickname is that?”

“MI6’s quartermaster,” Bond replied casually, getting some stuff out of the trunk.

Jesus. Quartermaster? Somehow, Ollie—or Q, apparently now— the scrawny kid he used to mentor had become Q, one of the highest profiles jobs you could get in MI6. At the same time, he wasn’t surprised. Benji was good, but Ollie had been better. Younger, a little inexperienced, but one of the only people he would actually call a genius.

“How do you know MI6’s quartermaster?” Luther asked, mildly interested.

“I don’t know MI6’s quartermaster. I only knew Ol—well, Q, in university. We haven’t been in touch for over 20 years. I honestly didn’t realize he’d applied to MI6. Probably happened after I graduated.”

“So, you were friends?”

Benji turned towards Bond, who was eyeing him with an interested glint.

“I wouldn’t say that. I’d say we were more like… frenemies.”

“Frenemies?” Luther snorted. “What are we? Teens?”

“It’s true!” Benji protested, throwing his hands in the air. “We were pretty much alike, so, obviously we hated each other until we realized we could work together to make things go boom even better than before.”

“What did Mr. C. never caught on?” Bond asked with a smirk.

Benji zipped his mouth and threw the invisible key.

“You’re not going to get it from me. But, you know, when you have two technologically inclined students working to get an engineering degree, or two, it can get rather explosive.”

Benji smiled wistfully, remembering the late nights, drinking red bull, and stuffing themselves with bags of crisps like the responsible young adults they were.

“We had some good fun.”

Bond only made an acknowledgement noise, continuing his review of the trunk. Amongst weapons and other pretty nice knick-knacks, there were some things that made Benji’s stomach swoop.

“What’s that?” He asked pointing at the offending object.

“Snowshoes,” Bond replied.

“I know. Why are we using snowshoes?”

“How do you think we’ll get there? With your shoes?”

Bond was right but it didn’t mean Benji liked it. There wasn’t much apart from a ski resort and some hiking trails besides the research facility. One of those trails looped around pretty closely to the facility, and since it had been snowing, there came snowshoes.

Bond started undressing, removing efficently coat, shirt, pants and socks in front of them like it was normal to do it in front of strangers. He pulled out clothes to dress into: black pants which didn’t seem like all that warm, long socks that disappeared into snow boots, then shirt, undershirt, sleeveless vest, and finishing off with a beanie.

“What are you waiting for?” Bond said to Benji. “I’d like to get there before sunset.”

“Yeah, Benji, what are you waiting for?” Luther asked with an innocent expression. “You should get dressed so we can save Ethan from Petrovich.”

Benji could feel the scathing retort on his tongue but decided against it. Ethan would be proud of him. He grudgingly took the clothes Bond was giving him. The pants and undershirts were definitely warmer than he had expected.

“Wow, this feels great! Light, warm.”

“Q doesn’t mess around.”

He looked a little proud about that and Benji’s interest perked up. He never pegged Bond to be more than a condescending, aloof man who probably didn’t care much about other people, but the way he said the sentence showed something Benji hadn’t suspected.

“Are you and Q close?” He asked curiously.

Bond raised an eyebrow at him.

“As close as colleagues are.”

Stony face, the spy closed the trunk once Benji was done dressing and the topic was closed.

*

“We’re here,” Luther announced about an hour and a half after their departure from the airfield. “This is as far as we can go with the van.”

They’d been driving for so long on mountain roads, right from left, left from right, going up, up, up, hairpin curve after another that the weather had changed several times: from windy and slightly raining to windy, snowing and foggy to clear skies and sunny.

They stopped at the closest camping site to the facility. There were alone apart from a lonely tent which seemed empty.

Bond opened the trunk to take out what they needed and put them in backpacks: tablet, a decoder device, guns and a couple of chargers, and other weapons, plus some protein bars and water.

Benji was lovingly looking at the heater and wondered if he could be the techie instead and sit this one out. But then he remembered why he was doing this, or should he say, for who he was doing, and he got his resolve back.

“Ready?” Benji asked Bond, who simply nodded.

They tested the headsets and microphones and off they went.

The trail was supposed to be in medium difficulty, but Benji had never walked with snowshoes before so he had trouble finding his footing at first. Bond, obviously, didn’t seem to have any issues. He barely looked back at him to see if he kept up, checking his GPS from time to time, with a couple of “faster” thrown at him which Benji only allowed himself to grumble about in his mind.

“Let’s stop here,” Bond said about a half an hour later. “We’ll go off-trail from there on.”

Benji was grateful for the break. The trail kept climbing, climbing, climbing. With oxygen getting sparser, it made breathing, moving and just walking difficult. Benji drank some water and ate a protein bar. His clothes were warm enough but after so long, you couldn’t do much against snow, water and humidity. Bond did the same, though he didn’t seem so affected now.

“I’m ready to go home. It’s too bloody cold.”

Bond looked at him with an amused expression.

“Come on. The faster we get there, the faster you can go home.”

Once they were off-trail, Benji did everything he could to follow Bond’s sure footsteps. He seemed to know where to walk, while Benji didn’t want to trigger an avalanche by mistake. That would be pretty terrible, mostly for them, and also possibly for the people below that, including Luther.

For about twenty more minutes, there was nothing but snow, trees and more snow. The sun was still up, bringing a bit of warmth. And then, suddenly, like a blinding apparition, the research facility seemed to spring in front of them, jutting out of the mountain’s slope. The building now looked more like a dark gray than the white in the pictures. From their position, they could only see one building overlooking the mountain.

Soon, they were stopped by a fence topped with barbed wire and cameras. As they followed, they noticed the few armed guards doing their rounds.

“Luther, we’re approaching the target,” Benji whispered in the mic.

“I’m in their system. Continue north from your position for a hundred yards. You should see an emergency exit door. Guards will be on the opposite side.”

They followed Luther’s instructions and removed their snowshoes when they got close enough. Bond silently pointed at the cameras mounted on the building’s wall just above the exit door.

“Luther, we’re here.”

“Looping the camera… now.”

Bond cut the fence and opened the passage for Benji. The door had an electronic keypad. With a screwdriver, Benji opened it and plugged his decoder. It found the code in less than thirty seconds. The door opened with a click. Bond stepped in first.

They arrived in a long, narrow hallway that was thankfully empty. According to the plan, their server room was in the basement. Bond also wanted to check Jones’ office on the second floor, and some of the labs on the first floor.

“Find you friend,” Bond said, “I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Wait a minute, I’m coming with you.”

Bond looked annoyed.

“You forget we had a mission too. I need to make sure it goes well.”

“You’d rather have your friend die?”

Benji’s heart thumped hard in his chest at what he was about to say.

“If his cover is blown, he’s probably already dead.”

In his ears, there was static coming from Luther, or maybe it was a sigh. Bond nodded, solemn.

“Fine. You can come. Let’s not waste time.”

Together, they walked along the hallway until they heard footsteps coming their way. Bond pushed Benji into an alcove. When the person was at the right distance, Bond pounced on him and wrapped in his arm around his throat. The man, a scientist according to his lab coat, thrashed and tried to grab Bond’s face, scratching his cheek, but the man had a steely grip on him and held until he stopped moving.

“Try this door,” Bond ordered, tilting his head towards one of the white doors that littered the hallway. Benji pushed down the knob. The door opened. Bond carried the unconscious—or dead—man in the room. He went through his pockets and stole his badge then closed the door.

At the end of the hallway, there was another one. On the right side, two heavy duty doors with a sign indicating stairs.

Bond turned to him, “We need to split up. Go to the server room, I’ll take care of the labs. After that, we can meet again to go to Petrovich’s office.”

“What about—”

“If I find your friend, I’ll let you know.”

Bond didn’t wait for Benji’s reply and left him at the stairs’ door. Benji sighed and went downstairs.

“Luther, tell me if I can come out.”

“Checking,” Luther replied. “You’re good, though there are one guard, two scientists also in the vicinity. In the server room, you’ve got one person, but I can’t get in it seems. Either they don’t have any cameras inside or the security is extremely tight.”

Benji thanked Luther and carefully opened the door, glancing on both sides of the hallway before rushing to the server room. It was also locked with a keypad. He made a quick work of it and entered the room. He found a nice, hidden spot from the main workstation where an employee was working and put on a gas mask. He crept along one of the server racks and threw a sleeping gas grenade. He stayed out of sight until the man fell unconscious.

“Alright, let’s see what you have.”

He plugged in his hard drive and started downloading whatever information they had on the HARP weapon. Several documents, patents, specifications opened in front of Benji’s horrified eyes. Bond was right. The HARP weapon existed and, if he could trust what he was reading, could very well be the end of the world.

If they could control the ionosphere, they could potentially control the weather, triggering catastrophic events. In the end, they wouldn’t even need to set foot, send troops or drones in a conflict; they could only use “nature” to do the dirty work for them.

It seemed like bad guys woke up every other day with extreme cravings for money that they would rather murder, destroy and fuck up the world they lived in instead of realizing they would lose it all too.

Once Benji had enough information, he stopped the download and switched the hard drive with a usb key that would spread a nice little virus through their IT infrastructure.

As Benji got out of the server room, he removed his mask and went to the first floor.

“I have good and bad news,” Bond piped.

“What is it?”

“I’ve found your friend.”

“Ethan?”

Relief washed over Benji.

“Where are you?”

“Outside of Petrovich’s office.”

Benji ran speed to Petrovich’s office. Nobody was on the first floor, so either Bond was extremely efficient or everybody had left. The spy was waiting for him next to the door. Before Benji could say anything, Bond showed him a tablet connected to a wire going underneath the door. It showed a video with no sound.

“Christ,” Benji whispered, blanching.

Ethan was tied to a chair, without his Jones mask, looking a little worse for wear, bruised and tired. Petrovich was pacing back and forth in front of him, waving her gun around. Every time she pointed her gun at Ethan, Benji’s jaw clenched. One twitch of her finger and the bullet would fly right into Ethan.

“What now?” Benji asked to prevent himself from doing a stupid thing, like rush in and put himself between, between Ethan and Petrovich.

“I have an idea, but you will need to trust me,” Bond said after thinking about it.

Benji had his doubts, of course, but at this point, the other spy seemed to have it all together, and Benji had to defer to him this time.

“What did you have in mind?”

“I’ve noticed a door that should lead to Petrovich’s office. You distract her, I get in and—”

“Эй, вы там! Стоять!”

Their rifles up, two guards rushed towards them.

“Change of plans,” Bond muttered, opening the office’s door and pushing Benji through it. By the time Bond got in, the guards had gotten a few shots in, which thankfully didn’t hit anyone.

While Benji aimed his gun at a stunned Petrovich, Bond locked the doors and pushed a piece of furniture in front of it. Ethan was looking at them with a displeased expression.

“Sorry, Miss Petrovich,” Bond said as the guards banged on the doors. “But we’ll have to interrupt you.”

“Who are you?” Petrovich asked, aiming her gun at Bond and Benji.

And now, they had triggered the alarm.

“Marina, please,” Ethan said, “They know nothing.”

Petrovich laughed out loud, and to Benji, she looked on the verge of losing her mind.

“They know nothing and yet, here they are, Mr. Hunt. I don’t like people lying to me.”

“Miss Petrovich,” Benji started, hoping to get her attention back.

Ethan shook his head once, a warning, but Benji didn’t care. The other man wasn’t in a state to do anything, so, it was Benji’s turn. While he had her attention, Bond started to move away from him.

“Miss Petrovich,” Benji continued, hopefully giving time for Bond to act. “You said you don’t like being lied to, so here’s the truth. HARP is destroyed.”

Petrovich blanched, “What? No, no, no, that’s not possible!”

“I’ve introduced a virus in your systems. It should have destroyed everything by now.”

She went to her computer, typed on a few keys and froze. She looked up, paler than before if it was possible.

“You’ve killed me,” she said. “You’ve killed me!”

She raised her gun again, but instead of aiming at Benji, she targeted Ethan. He tried to move away, but being tied down hindered him. Benji ran as fast as he could to get in front of Ethan.

At the same time, Bond grabbed her arm. She pressed the trigger, the sound strangely loud despite the alarm going off. The bullet flew right through Ethan’s chest. Blood started to seep through his white shirt.

“No!” Benji shouted, kneeling in of the man, not really caring what was happening between Bond and Petrovich. Ethan had closed his eyes in pain. Immediately, Benji pressed his hands on the wound.

“What happened, Benji?” Luther asked urgently.

“Come on, Ethan, stay with me.”

Breathing through his nose, Ethan opened his eyes and looked at Benji.

“Good, that’s it. Come on. You’re Ethan Hunt. No bullet can hold you down. You’re like—” Benji’s mind was spinning out, the worry making it difficult to think. “—like a cockroach. You survive whatever comes at you.”

“A cockroach,” Ethan choked out.

Benji winced.

“Yeah, not my best analogy. Bond!” he shouted, “Where the bloody hell are you?! I need you to cut the ties!”

He didn’t want to remove his hands from the bullet wound in case this might be the only thing between Ethan’s life or death. Now, in addition to the alarm, the banging on the door became even louder as if they were trying to bash it in.

“Benji, you should leave.”

“Not without you,” Benji replied.

“Benji, you have to leave now.”

Bond finally decided to come over. He had a hunting knife in his hand which he used to cut the ties on the wrists and legs. Ethan brought his arms across his chest, pressing on his wound, eyes squeezed shut.

“You’re not going to be a martyr, Ethan, so stay still and let me handle it.”

Benji went to look for something, anything in his backpack he could use to stop Ethan from bleeding out. Bond decided at that moment to step away.

“What happened after the casino?” Benji asked to hopefully distract Ethan while he started to pack the wound with rolled gauze. Keeping it steady with one hand, Benji used the other one to try and find the medical tape.

“They brought me here and tried to make me talk. Didn’t succeed.”

“Guys, you should leave soon. It seemed like they’ve called an army,” Luther’s calming voice said.

Just as he said it, the alarm and the banging stopped. That wasn’t good. As Benji continued to dress Ethan’s wound as quickly as possible, Bond came back.

“We need to find a way to leave. Luther, any idea?”

“I’m looking.”

“There are snowmobiles below the office,” Bond casually mentioned as he looked at the big bay window, which showed a breathtaking view of the region. “We could go through the window. The fall will be cushioned by the snow.”

“Are you bloody mad?” Benji shouted, paling at the thought.

Somehow, it made Ethan chuckle. Benji was about to snark when somewhere down below, a boom shook the ground and the walls.

“What fresh hell is this?”

“You need to hurry up,” Bond said, taking a weapon from his backpack that Benji had never seen before. “The lab won’t stay upright for long.”

He fired at the window. Something flew out of the muzzle, too fast for Benji to see what it was, and hit the glass. Lines started to snake from the impact, spreading out into a web until the bay window was entirely covered. The next second, it exploded, sending shards of glass everywhere. Benji tried to protect Ethan from the worst of it. More explosions seemed to go off in the other parts of the building.

“Did you plant bombs?” Benji asked a little panicked. “And make them explode while we’re still in the building?”

“It took us longer than I thought,” Bond replied with a shrug.

Benji was going to argue, but Ethan’s trembling hand on his arm stopped him.

“Let’s go before the building bury us.”

More counter-arguments came to mind, like how would Ethan even jump from here while hurt, but as usual, the man just got up and carefully walked on the glass shards to look outside the window. Bond quickly joined him. By principle, Benji grumbled, closing his backpack.

“I can’t believe we’re going to jump,” Benji said, looking down. Jesus. That’s high. Too high in his very humble opinion.

Another explosion, bigger than others, and much, much closer, almost made them lose balance.

“Let’s,” Bond said before jumping.

“Are we really going to jump?”

Ethan smiled, amused despite everything.

“Now you know how I feel every time you lead me into the wrong direction, or the wrong building, or the wrong floor.”

Benji blushed and cleared his throat, saying, “You should go first.”

Ethan saluted him and jumped as well. Benji had to breathe deeply a couple of times to get the courage to do the same thing. What made him hurry was the latest explosion and the ominous creaking right above his head.

“One, two—“

In the air, Benji’s heart rose in his throat. The ground seemed so far away. He was going to break something. Benji tucked and rolled, the landing sending a shock through his body, until the snow stopped him. Disoriented, Benji blinked a few times trying to get his thoughts in order.

Ethan came right by him and pulled him out for the snow.

“Come on. The snowmobiles are on the other side of the building.”

They ran the length of the building until they reached Bond and the two snowmobiles, the engine already purring.

“You took your sweet time,” Bond said with a smile.

Benji, very maturely, made a face and followed Ethan to the other snowmobile. Ethan climbed behind the handlebars.

“What are you doing?”

Ethan turned to Benji.

“Driving.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

A little exasperated, Ethan replied, “Do you know how to drive it?”

Benji shook his head.

“Well, then, hop in.”

Despite his worry, Benji climbed behind Ethan. Both men revved up the vehicles and started to drive down. The building behind them had one big explosion and began to fall off. They slalomed between trees, rocks, pieces of cement, and other debris falling.

Something fell right in front of them, forcing Bond and Ethan to split. The snowmobile tilted. Benji had to hold down on Ethan. He seemed to get control back when something on the ground launched them into the air, sending both men flying down the slope. Ethan succeeded in grabbing a tree but Benji missed it by mere inches and kept rolling down.

Ethan let go of the tree and went after Benji. The latter scrambled to reach out to Ethan, who used his momentum to grab him. They rolled together in the snow until there was nothing below, just air. Then gravity pulled them down.

Benji gasped awake, his head not remembering the landing, but his body did. He felt cold, numb and on fire at the same time. He had difficulty breathing.

“Ethan?”

He couldn’t really turn his head because it hurt too much but he realized he fell down a crevasse. Jesus Christ. Was he going to die here? That wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Benji had so many regrets in his life that he only started to actually do something about it in the last few years.

“Ethan? Answer me if you’re there and conscious.”

Benji seemed to have lost his headset in the fall, he couldn’t call Luther. The silence from Ethan was worrying. Benji felt the prick of tears.

“Ethan…”

“’M here,” the man finally answered, sounding groggy. “Benji.”

Benji forced out the words despite the lump in his throat, “I have something to tell you.”

Silence, but this time he knew Ethan was listening. He knew what to say, but the words were stuck somewhere in his chest. He couldn’t get them out.

“Benji?”

Tears finally dropped, running down his cheeks, wetting his ears.

“I love you, Ethan. More than you know.”

Creaking above them followed by what sounded like thunder. A cascade of snow suddenly rained on it, fast filling the crevasse and burying them.

Benji couldn’t even shout in terror.

*

On television, they were airing again the images from the Horizon lab. The explosions took half of the building, leaving the other half as a gaping hole. The damage could be traced down the mountain. Thankfully, nobody got hurt, so Benji didn’t feel as much guilt as he should.

“Done?” Ethan asked after knocking on Benji’s door.

“All done.”

Ethan smiled. He had a bandage on his forehead in addition to his other injuries. Just like Benji felt, he truly looked exhausted.

“Ready to go home?”

“Absolutely. I never want to see snow again.”

Pain shot through his arm as he tried to pull on a jacket, which almost made his heart stop. Ethan hobbled on his crutches to help him out.

“Thanks.”

Benji took what was left of his personal items and followed Ethan out.

“Luther is bringing the car out front,” Ethan told him.

Bond was leaning against the wall in the hallway.

“I thought you’d be gone by now,” Benji commented, surprised to see him there.

He thought it was a little unfair Bond was able to get away from that practically unscathed.

“Q wanted to talk to you,” Bond replied, handing him his phone.

“Hey, ‘Q’,” Benji greeted.

“So, you’re alive.”

“I am.”

“I’ve never thought you’d do field work one day.”

“Never did I before. I enjoy it more when I’m not dying or getting hurt, though.”

Ollie chuckled, “I’ll bet. I don’t think I could do it. Lab work can be frustrating, but I wouldn’t be very good at it. I actually like my desk. And field work is… too many variables. I see how MI6 agents seem to attract trouble whenever they go.”

“Same thing for IMF agents.”

“Hunt included? Is that why you chose field work? To keep Hunt out of trouble?”

“I tried, but that’s a tall order.”

And Benji may have sent him towards trouble but Ollie didn’t need to know that. Speaking of which, his eyes strayed over to Ethan, who was talking to Bond. The man glanced at Benji with a small smile.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Ollie continued, “If you ever go to London, give a me call and we’ll grab a pint.”

“Right back at you if you come to the US.”

They hung up, and Benji gave the phone back to Bond.

“Good talk?” Ethan asked.

Benji nodded.

“Let’s go, then.”

They left hospital.

“Well, it has been fun,” Bond said, “let’s never do it again.”

They shook hands. Bond turned around and hailed a cab.

“Home, then?” Benji asked Ethan as Luther arrived with their rented car. The man smiled, his hand brushing Benji’s, making his heart jump.

“Yeah, let’s go home.”