The Analyst's Nightmare (Mission Impossible 4)

03 ~ Jasmine Hanaway

SINCE MY FATHER'S DEATH mere days ago, Jane had kindly taken me in. She didn't have to. But she did because of her benevolent, valiant nature. My Mother, Lucille wasn't an option since she'd passed away when I was a baby and my Uncle Ken was certainly out of the question because the last time me or Dad had heard from him was when I was four and he was at that time, imprisoned for multiple offences. Nobody had seen nor heard from him since and to be honest, I wasn't willing to make contact with him now as he'd been absent for most of my life. Jane and I had grown so close to each other, that she'd become almost like my second Mother. The reasoning behind this was that her and my Father were always assigned tasks and work related causes together so not only would I see her increasingly often but in addition to this, she'd always take time out of her busy lifestyle to check on me and provide me with company and a listening ear so that I never felt incomplete, lonely or scared. She had no such obligation to do this. But yet again, she did because she cares. Plus, she also makes THE BEST PB&J sandwiches so that's a HUGE advantage on her part!

However, I myself must of been in some sort of trance, as far away from the present as one could possibly be, for the driver's voice brought me back to my senses. I couldn't see him clearly from where I was sitting in the back of the cramped transit van but from his voice I could deduce that he was a British male most likely from down South as his voice took on a sophisticated and complex manner (not that I'm saying Northerns aren't the above.) It was also a little high pitched and squeaky; not that that really adds anything to the observation.

"I don't mean to bring up the elephant in the room but, what's with the big hairy Russian?" He asked.

"Yeah what's with that guy, Dad?" A younger boy probed, from opposite me. Maybe I was just too absorbed in my own world to notice him sooner. But, the fact I had managed to pick up on was the heavy Boston accent and the fact he'd just referred to Mr. Ethan as 'Dad' which meant he was related to him in some way, shape or form and not necessarily from being his own child. Perhaps he could be something of a nephew or a grandson that had been adopted by him? Or maybe I'm just overthinking, walking the knife's edge of a panic attack. AGAIN. That wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary for me. Just another, normal weekday in fact. However when I want to be, I can be highly observant, even picking up on the most minut of details; sometimes for no logical reason whatsoever. It can, be useful yet, it's equally as much of a pain.

"Who Bogdan? He fed me intel, if I'd of left him there they would have killed him." Mr. Ethan explained, whilst Jane held a retinal scanning device to his eyes, making him fidget. "So for that reason, we're going to give him his freedom. Did you call in the sweepers?" He asked.

"Yeah, they're on their way." The driver replied flatly.

"Good, that's good news." Mr. Ethan muttered.

"Glad we've got that covered." The boy nodded in agreement. "And you'd be...?" He trailed off, looking at me with expectation dancing in his remarkably, large brown eyes. Before I could respond, Mr. Ethan spoke for me.

"Jasmine Hanaway. She's three years your senior. Miles, Jasmine, Jasmine, Miles." Mr. Ethan gestured between me and the boy who'd now been formally introduced to me as 'Miles'.

"Hey, it's nice to meet you." I smiled, extending my hand. Miles smiled back and took it, shaking it.

"You as well. Say, I've never heard of a Jasmine before, how come I didn't know you as a kid?" Miles questioned, his eyebrows furrowed.

"You were most likely too young to remember." I said.

"Or even more accurately, you were too busy eating peanut butter to care the day we introduced you two." Mr. Ethan grinned, making Miles frown. "Jul- I mean your Mom had a picture of it somewhere, I'm sure I'll be able to find it if I look hard enough."