Re: Fill Two | post hoc ergo propter hoc | 2/4bionicJanuary 10 2012, 06:47:59 UTC
OHMYGOD I love this so much, insanely good so far. I love the little details, especially this one: He slides a hand through his hair and grins at Brandt almost obnoxiously before turning back to survey the room.
*snickers* Oh Ethan... You are such deep trouble, Brandt.
Re: Fill Two | post hoc ergo propter hoc | 2/4lelepiroutekJanuary 10 2012, 14:29:20 UTC
As always, your characterization is so spot-on it takes my breath away. "He's panicking, though. Definitely panicking. For sure." THIS SCREAMED BRANDT FOR ME! I can almost TASTE the scene. Well done, Beth ;)
Fill Two | post hoc ergo propter hoc | 3/5 (my bad)shipmateeeJanuary 10 2012, 20:57:28 UTC
three.
Ethan's bleeding out all over the concrete.
Every breath is shallow and hitching and Brandt's hands are shaking where they're pressed against the wound in Ethan's side, stemming the blood flow as much as he can, which is apparently not at all, because everything surrounding them is stained a dark carmine, and Jane is still seven minutes out, and while all immediate threats have already been taken out, Ethan is dying, right here, right underneath his hands and he doesn't know how to fix this oh god--
"Hey," Ethan whispers.
Brandt can barely bring himself to meet his eyes, has to steel himself before looking up and, and.
Ethan's smiling. A small one, but it's there.
It's like his body is on autopilot, muscle memory and instinct, because his thumb is already brushing Ethan's cheekbone (leaving smears of blood, so dark, obvious, brands of guilt laid out across his skin), and he's leaning over him, smile skittering across his face before he can stop it
( ... )
Fill Two | post hoc ergo propter hoc | 4/5shipmateeeJanuary 10 2012, 22:21:23 UTC
four.
Another mission, another anonymous hotel room, and this time they're in Astana.
Ethan and Jane are going undercover, masks and all (which Benji continually reassures them "will work this time, I re-calibrated the machine and everything!", but Brandt's pretty much stopped believing a word he says these days), while he's been relegated to research.
Which is fine. That's totally fine. He's good at research, at finding the patterns in the chaos, the connections between the obscure and nonsensical. It's what he'd been doing most of his career before Ethan stepped into that car with the Secretary and fixed him with a look that said well, hello you seem like a challengeEthan suddenly appears next to the arm of his chair
( ... )
Fill Two | post hoc ergo propter hoc | 5/6 (damn it)shipmateeeJanuary 11 2012, 01:13:54 UTC
still another part to come because this fic is ridiculous and totally got away from me, omg. also, i never even meant for it to go in this direction it just sort of happened, oh man, forgive me guys, i swear there's a happy ending.
five.
"--drugged him with some kind of fancy version of sodium pentothal mixed with--"
"--maybe a form of hallucinogen--"
His head hurts.
A lot.
"--should be fine, the tests will tell us--
"--just sit with him--"
Did a door just close? His fingers grapple around. Scratchy sheets. Hospital bed?
"Will?"
Ethan. Good, that's nice. Warm. Safe.
Brandt smiles.
"C'mere," he says. His voice sounds a bit scratchy.
He hears a chair scrape across the floor (ow noise noise) and then Ethan's sitting next to his left, leaning forward, arms folded on his sheets
( ... )
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*snickers* Oh Ethan... You are such deep trouble, Brandt.
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This is ridiculously awesome. Please keep writing!
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Hahaha, Ethan you are also a jerk but I'm sure your slow steady seduction will pay off.
AGAIN BRILLIANT.
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Ethan's bleeding out all over the concrete.
Every breath is shallow and hitching and Brandt's hands are shaking where they're pressed against the wound in Ethan's side, stemming the blood flow as much as he can, which is apparently not at all, because everything surrounding them is stained a dark carmine, and Jane is still seven minutes out, and while all immediate threats have already been taken out, Ethan is dying, right here, right underneath his hands and he doesn't know how to fix this oh god--
"Hey," Ethan whispers.
Brandt can barely bring himself to meet his eyes, has to steel himself before looking up and, and.
Ethan's smiling. A small one, but it's there.
It's like his body is on autopilot, muscle memory and instinct, because his thumb is already brushing Ethan's cheekbone (leaving smears of blood, so dark, obvious, brands of guilt laid out across his skin), and he's leaning over him, smile skittering across his face before he can stop it ( ... )
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Another mission, another anonymous hotel room, and this time they're in Astana.
Ethan and Jane are going undercover, masks and all (which Benji continually reassures them "will work this time, I re-calibrated the machine and everything!", but Brandt's pretty much stopped believing a word he says these days), while he's been relegated to research.
Which is fine. That's totally fine. He's good at research, at finding the patterns in the chaos, the connections between the obscure and nonsensical. It's what he'd been doing most of his career before Ethan stepped into that car with the Secretary and fixed him with a look that said well, hello you seem like a challengeEthan suddenly appears next to the arm of his chair ( ... )
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This is gloriousss
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Oh god, yes Brandt this is so not in your control.
Love Ethan just... yeah, just loving EVER UPDATE.
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five.
"--drugged him with some kind of fancy version of sodium pentothal mixed with--"
"--maybe a form of hallucinogen--"
His head hurts.
A lot.
"--should be fine, the tests will tell us--
"--just sit with him--"
Did a door just close? His fingers grapple around. Scratchy sheets. Hospital bed?
"Will?"
Ethan. Good, that's nice. Warm. Safe.
Brandt smiles.
"C'mere," he says. His voice sounds a bit scratchy.
He hears a chair scrape across the floor (ow noise noise) and then Ethan's sitting next to his left, leaning forward, arms folded on his sheets ( ... )
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