Fanfics from Ao3 - Private

spectare amare - orphan_account

1.

Ethan's in London. Again. By himself this time. Will is in his ear, like always when they aren't in the same country.

"Take the next left." Will sounds tired. Ethan takes the left. For now, he's on foot.

"Where are you, Brandt?"

For some reason, he's never called Will "Will" to his face. It's weird, because Benji has always been Benji, and Luther has always been Luther, and Ilsa (when he had finally learned her name) has always been Ilsa. Never Will, though. That seems like something he'd need permission for.

Will doesn't respond. Ethan walks the length of the street, on the long side of a roundabout, before Will speaks again.

"Stop here."

He's in front of a large townhouse. There's nothing special about it, just one in a row of a dozen just like it.

"Why here?" It's not the only mystery Ethan can't solve, but the most pressing one at the moment.

Will sighs. It's another crushingly exhausted sigh, and it takes a minute before he speaks again. "Just, come inside."

Ethan climbs the steps to the front door and turns the knob. It's unlocked. Inside, the halls are dark and only faintly illuminated by a small array of windows at the end of the house. It's just dark enough to make examining the objects hanging on the wall impossible. Something's nagging at him, something on the tip of his tongue that his mind is struggling to comprehend.

After a minute, it comes to him.

"You said come inside, not go inside."

Will does not respond. Ethan takes another step into the house and quietly closes the door behind. Instinctively, he draws his gun.

"Brandt." The voice in his ear he relies on so often to get him out of trouble is quiet. Ethan walks deeper into the house, clears the first room on the right side of the hallway.

There's nothing in it but a bunch of old boxes. In the distance, the floorboards creak. Ethan backs out of the room and continues down the hallway.

He's cleared most of the rooms on the first floor when he opens the last one and points his gun directly at Will.

"Will." The name tumbles out of his mouth before he can stop himself. Ethan lowers his gun and re-engages the safety.

He manages a quiet "What are you doing here?" before Will shushes him, and hold an open palm out. Ethan hands him the earbud without question. Will manages a weak smile before he crushes it between his fingers.

Will is a mess. His hair is disheveled, probably from running his hands through it over and over again, and his clothes are rumpled. Ethan would be surprised if he had slept in the past three days.

"You shouldn't be here." Ethan mutters quietly. Will remains still for a minute, then walks to the window. He looks out the blinds for a second, then quickly walks back.

"You can't stay here. In London." Will fumbles in his pockets, then pulls out a new earbud. "You're lucky Hunley tells me things, so I can keep you safe."

"What?"

"You remember Croatia?"

Sometimes, when he's trying to sleep at night, it's hard not to. "Of course."

"Those men you killed, they're here. Or, their friends are." Will runs a nervous hand through his hair.

"I killed all of them." Not something Ethan wants to remember.