[ON HIATUS] AMAZING GRACE // MISSION IMPOSSIBLE

APARTMENT

The apartment was tiny.

The residence area of the IMF base housed nearly four hundred people, and to accommodate so many, the residents had to settle for cozy quarters.

Brandt unlocked the door with a shiny analog key and pushed it open for her, standing aside so she could enter first.

Grace's feet crossed the threshold with none of the apprehension she'd shown in the interview room.

Light wash gray walls surrounded a small living room, and matched the little loveseat couch positioned before the radiator. A small flat screen tv hung on the wall across from it, and faced kitchenette and mini breakfast bar.

Grace ran her fingertips over the glossy surface of the small fridge and smiled at the two-burner stove and mini oven. She'd stayed in nicer places, under false names and with money not her own—but as Grace, living honestly, by her own means, without pretense, it was the nicest place she'd ever sincerely had.

To Brandt, it looked like his college dorm.

Actually, to his recollection, his college dorm had been bigger.

"Do you live in one of these?" Grace wondered softly, wandering in and out of the single bathroom.

Brandt leaned against the wall, his hands comfortably resting in his pants pockets. He smirked and shook his head. He hadn't had an apartment since he was an analyst. "No, I'm in the hotel upstairs."

Grace cast an intrigued look at him as she disappeared into the bedroom. "This place has a hotel?"

She found a full size bed, comfortably dressed with a thick comforter and an assortment of basic pillows. A single nightstand rested next to the headboard and a small half-desk vanity sat under a mirror by the window. There was no dresser, only an enclosed closet with hanging space.

Brandt meandered in after her, eyes skating around the room before coming to rest on her as she sat on the foot of the bed with a perturbed expression.

"Not a conventional one. Not one open to the public. Agents who don't get stationed on a base because they're always out on assignment get a room while they're in town. I'm here to see to you, I got a room." He shrugged and pulled out the desk chair, taking a seat and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

Grace took the moment of silence to take her hair down out of the tight, restricting ponytail and shake out the kinks.

"You were there?" Brandt's soft rasp finally uttered.

When she looked up, his blue eyes were watching her sadly through his eyelashes. In the moment that passed between them, her mouth opened to ask what he meant and she shook her head in confusion, lost.

"When Ilsa—" he broke off and cleared his throat, and Grace felt a pang of sorrow. "When she died. You were there?"

Grace's expression gentled. "I was there. I wasn't awake until she had already passed. But I was there."

Brandt blinked, pain written in his face. He nodded once, and rubbed his palms together. "Was she..." he cleared his throat again and loosened his tie. "Was it bad?"

He must have been close to her. Maybe in the same way that Luther was—'in their own way.' He appeared to be suffering the loss of a friend before her eyes, and all she could do was feel like it was her fault.

Grace swallowed back a lump of emotion and shook her head. "I don't know. It seemed so sudden. But when I saw her—and please understand me—apart from the mortal wound, her body appeared undisturbed."

She meant to convey to him that she hadn't been beaten to death, she hadn't been tortured or torn apart. She had received a felling blow, and that was that.

Brandt nodded again, a quick bobbing of his head. "She was a good agent." He commented, rising to his feet. "She took pretty good care of Ethan, when she wasn't trying to kill him."

Grace's expression contorted in befuddlement.

Brandt caught her look and shrugged, waving a dismissive hand. "Government and terror politics, it's complicated. She was the best. It's good you got to meet her."

The new IMF recruit swallowed thickly. "Because she was your friend?"

Brandt finally turned and faced her head on. "Because she was the best, and she was killed. You have to be better than her, or you won't make it."

Doom struck Grace's heart.

"That's why Ethan called me." Brandt continued. "That's what we're gonna do."