Non Challenge Fic - The Reluctant Traitor Affair Part 4

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Fourth chapter - sorry it took longer than I was expecting.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Unsurprisingly Illya slept badly, his dreams full of vague threads of horror and dread. Every small noise throughout the night had him awake in an instant, looking round, searching for the threat. Even more unsurprisingly, he was rudely awoken in the morning when Kurt slammed the door open and he and two guards marched in and dragged him out of bed.

“Morning, sunshine,” Kurt grinned, smacking him hard in the face. “We just have a few last questions to ask you. Just to try and settle the question of your loyalties once and for all.”

“Mmm.” He shook his head rapidly as though trying to clear it. “And I did not think I asked for a wake up call.”

The guards seized his arms and hauled him away down the stairs to a far less comfortable room.

He looked at the narrow hospital bed complete with leather straps and bloodstains. Of course. How unquestionably familiar.

“You are aware,” he remarked casually to Kurt. “That I am well acquainted with THRUSH hospitality? I am not known for breaking under the pressure.”

“That's alright,” Kurt said, rummaging through a drawer and coming up with a syringe and a vial of some drug. “Rex doesn't want you broken. Just cracked open a little so we can see inside.”

He glanced up at one of the guards holding his right arm. “You see?” he said gloomily. “This is why I should have had a lawyer look over my contract.”

The next few hours passed in a blur of pain and drugs. The pills Mr Waverly had given him gave him an edge of clarity – he could just about focus through the haze but still the questions seemed to be coming from somewhere very far away and his heart was hammering through his chest, fast and irregular in a way that made him feel sick and wrong. Once again he thought he might just prefer the torture over their own drugs.

It was difficult to keep track of who was in the room. He could hear Nick arguing about something in the background, and Rex was certainly there for a while, asking cold questions while Kurt brought the rod down across the soles of his feet. He concentrated on offering anger and hurt – things that THRUSH would feel they could take and manipulate and build upon.

“Why do you want to join THRUSH?”

“Because UNCLE betrayed me. They let me down. He looked me in the eyes and told me he was sending me back to die.”

“Do you believe in what UNCLE stands for.”

“Pretty words, is all. I do not care about ideology.”

“And would you kill Waverly, if we asked you?”

“I would kill him if you did not ask me. But I do not think I will get the chance.”

The same questions over and over, interspersed with other questions over places and dates as though they were trying to catch him out. Sick and dizzy and confused, his head aching, it was all he could do to keep track of his answers.

Finally just as his mind started to clear, he took advantage of a slight break to gaze coolly up at Kurt. “You know your drug wore off five minutes ago, yes? At this point you either have to accept that I am telling you the truth or move onto more extreme methods. And do try to make up your mind quickly; I am feeling hungry.”

With a roar of anger, Kurt punched down towards his face. Illya tried to turn his head to deflect the worst of it, but the blow still caught him squarely on the jaw. The final straw; he felt everything rushing to black.

When he finally woke up he found he was back in his room. No cuffs, no guards....that had to be a good sign. Absently he put his hand to his chest. His heart still felt like it was beating too fast but the spasms of pain had stopped at least, leaving nothing but a dull, tired ache. His head, though, felt like someone was digging through his skull with an ice pick. He supposed he could tell Mr Waverly that the drug worked as expected. Although no doubt THRUSH would develop a counter-counter-agent almost immediately. They always did.

He sat up slowly, conducting his usual self-assessment. His jaw ached from that last punch and the swelling felt impressive – and no doubt the bruising was as well. Other than that, his shoulders ached, there was a pull of pain just around his ribs, and the soles of his feet felt hot and stingy. Nothing that he could not work through.

The clock on the nightstand said it was a quarter to six. He doubted he'd been out for long, so the chances were he'd spent most of the day with Kurt. What a waste of time.

There was a soft knock at the door, and an instant later Nick entered carrying a tray which he set down on the table. Ah, good, you're awake,” he said, sounding relieved. “I was concerned. How are you feeling?”

“I'm fine,” he said immediately. It was always the answer, no thought required.

“I'm sorry about that,” Nick added sincerely. “Kurt gets carried away.”

He honestly wasn't entirely sure whether Nick was apologising for the torture in general or that last punch in particular. It didn't really make a difference. “It's fine,” he said again. “I have had worse before and fully expect to have worse again.”

“Are you always such a pessimist?” Nick asked exasperatedly.

He shrugged. “I prefer to think of myself as a realist.” The smell from the table was making him hungry. “Is that for me?” he asked.

“Yes, sorry, go ahead,” Nick said. “I figured you would still be hungry.”

“Very much so,” he agreed, sitting down and digging in. It was spaghetti bolognaise, rich and flavourful. “This is delicious. Your cooking again?”

“Yes,” Nick said, sounding pleased. “I enjoy cooking. It's an excellent way to relax.”

“I enjoy eating,” Illya told him.

Nick laughed. “The perfect partnership.” He sat at the seat opposite Illya and watched him eat for a few moments. “So,” he said at last. “I wanted to talk to you about Napoleon Solo.”

No. A thousand times no. Not now and not ever. But he couldn't let himself hesitate. “He is a fool,” he said, taking a mouthful of pasta.

“You think so?” Nick asked, his voice deceptively casual.

“A highly skilled and successful agent,” he conceded. “But a fool as a man. If you were curious why did you not ask me while I was still under Kurt's ministrations?”

“His name did come up,” Nick told him, watching his face with interest. “I asked if you would kill him. And you said 'if I had to'.”

“So what of it?” he asked with a shrug.

“Every other UNCLE agent I asked about you said some variation of 'yes'. And you told Dancer to tell him you're sorry.”

Блин. How had he let that slip by him? That was careless beyond all forgiveness. But the fact that he was here, discussing it with Nick and not back with Kurt suggested they hadn't taken the worst interpretation of his words. If he was seen to be abandoning UNCLE too easily that could be just as suspicious as if he showed regret. It was possible to be too perfect a traitor. He had to turn this mistake into a useful weakness.

“I told you the truth before - I think him a fool,” he began slowly. “But he has saved my life many times before, often at great risk to himself.”

“As you've saved his,” Nick pointed out. “You've gone back for him on several occasions when it would have been safer to simply walk away.”

This wasn't about telling Nick anything he didn't already know. This was about showing him that he believed a twisted interpretation of the truth. “Of course,” he said with a shrug. “Can you imagine the Soviet agent returning from a mission without Waverly's golden boy? No, they would have thrown me back to Mother Russia long before if I ever tried anything so foolish. But Napoleon...Solo....he could easily have returned without me and no one would have batted an eye. My saving him ensured my own survival, you understand? Him saving me gained him nothing except me.”

“Perhaps he thought that was enough,” Nick suggested.

“Perhaps,” he said shortly. “Or perhaps his pride simply wouldn't allow him to be less than perfect.” It felt strange, discussing his partnership with Napoleon in the past tense. “His personal vanity is a weakness. I admit he was often kind to me when it did not benefit him in any way. But as I told Kurt I will still kill him if I have to. No doubt he will try the same.”

“Do you think you could turn him?” Nick asked, watching him curiously.

He hesitated fractionally. He wanted to say 'yes' because that would give him a reason not to shoot at Napoleon the next time they met. However the truth was surely too obvious for this to be anything but a trap. Napoleon would never betray UNCLE, not even for his sake. After all, they only believed Illya a traitor because they had made the alternative worse. Napoleon had no such dark possibility hovering over his head. “I have never considered,” he said truthfully. “But I doubt it. He is a man of fastidious morality, and he has no great desire that only THRUSH could fulfil for him. But...” He spoke slowly feeling he should be giving Nick something. “I think, perhaps, I could persuade him to retire and leave UNCLE altogether. Not now, the anger and the betrayal will still be too great. But in time – perhaps.”

“I imagine that would be an outcome Central would be very pleased with,” Nick murmured, a satisfied little smile playing about his lips. “Losing you will already be a considerable blow to UNCLE's effectiveness on this continent. Losing Mr Solo as well would certainly be a victory for us.”

He nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak.

“Now,” Nick went on briskly. “Rex has an assignment lined up for us.” He glanced at his watch “The briefing starts in a minute. We don't want to be late.”

No. Hopefully this would give him some hint as to the way forward.

His feet were burning as he walked, but he carefully kept his expression blank. No weakness.

Rex was back in his throne, overseeing the long table. Lucie was sitting at the table nearest to him with Kurt beside her. Illya took the chair opposite and casually angled it so he could see the doors while still keeping an eye on Kurt and giving Rex the attention he would no doubt expect. A second later Nick sat beside him.

“Ah, Illya,” Rex said benevolently. “It's good to see you up and walking around so soon. You aren't holding any grudges from this morning I trust? Kurt was only doing as I asked.”

“I am Russian,” he said coolly. “The idea that those I work for might hurt me is neither new nor especially shocking.”

Kurt was glaring at him across the table, but he just let his head tilt back impassively.

“Well said, my boy,” Rex smiled. “Now, I think it would be a good idea if you and Kurt shook hands. Just to show willing.”

Face blank, he stood and walked around the table and Kurt did the same. He held out his and Kurt took it, immediately trying to crush his knuckles. Really?

“You might not be working for UNCLE anymore, but that doesn't mean I trust you,” Kurt said loudly.

A good undercover agent would say something disarming and conciliatory at this point, he knew. He smiled sharply. “It is not the fact that you tortured me that I have a problem with,” he said. “It's that your performance in that area was so lacklustre. There are seventeen major points of pain on the human body, you touched barely two of them. Three, if I were feeling charitable, which I am not. Perhaps later if we have the time I will give you a master class on how to thoroughly interrogate someone.”

It wasn't as though he was anxious to sound like a good undercover agent, after all.

Kurt just growled at him, seemingly inhibited by the presence of Rex, who was standing in front of them like he was conducting ceremonies...or possibly preparing to referee.

Rex laughed as they broke apart. “Ah, Illya, my boy, you are a joy,” he said, patting Illya's cheek briefly. “I can't think why you didn't come over to our side sooner. Now, if that's all out of the way, let's get down to business.”

Apparently Rex didn't feel like he and Kurt snarling at each other's throat was going to be any kind of problem.

He sat back down and watched as Lucie pulled a series of plans and maps off a nearby trolley. There was a familiar looking contraption on there as well. He'd last seen it in the UNCLE lab.

“This is the Armdale Secure Transport office in lower Manhattan,” Lucie announced, spreading out the papers. Illya frowned - he was aware of Armdale's work. They received a lot of government contracts to move sensitive and hazardous materials around the country. “Central has requested that we retrieve a shipment that they're going to be moving in the next couple of weeks. The information on the shipment should be inside this office.”

“What's the shipment?” Illya asked, studying the plans carefully.

“Why do you need to know that?” Kurt demanded suspiciously.

He gave a barely-suppressed sigh. “It makes a difference as to where it is likely to be located, and what the security is going to be like,” he explained, like it was obvious.

“Unfortunately that information is not freely available,” Rex said, smiling. “I'm afraid you had best get used to that.”

Right. He wondered if everyone else knew. “And so we are breaking into this office to look for a file?” he asked.

“That's right,” Lucie agreed. “Z-4TQLE. These dossiers have all the details available.”

“Initially, my plan was to have you and Nick break in at night,” Rex went on. “There's a very sophisticated security system, as no doubt you can see, but dear Lucie managed to acquire a device from UNCLE that promised to disable it for us. Unfortunately it doesn't seem to work and so I'm afraid it will have to be a frontal attack during the day.”

With all the casualties that implied. His eyes flickered to the device on the trolley. It had been Dr Ndebele's project, but Illya had joined in the discussions, and he understood the theory. “I could fix that,” he said with certainty.

“Really?” Nick asked, sounding surprised.

He nodded. “Dr Ndebele was talking about it with me last week. He explained the problems.”

“Why does it matter?” Kurt demanded, slamming his hand on the table. “Let's keep things simple. I'll lead a team in a frontal assault, we'll have that file before you know it. Unless, of course, our bleeding-heart UNCLE agent is afraid things will get too bloody for him?”

“Killing for killing's sake?” Illya leaned across the table and fixed Kurt with a scornful look. “Is that all you people think about?” He turned to look at Rex. “Do you know what happens when you kill someone on one of these little escapades? First of all, you obviously attract UNCLE's attention immediately, that's a given. But secondly, you also allow Waverly to go to all his backers, point at this...'atrocity'...and ask for more funding. For every person you kill UNCLE gets another thousand dollars to try and combat us. Do you really think that's worth it for the sake of a few dead bodies? Let's be pragmatic here. I specifically wanted to join this little troupe because of your discretion. Please. Do not disappoint me.”

Please let this work. Right now he was facing a choice between giving THRUSH their technology and colluding in a mass murder. And he had to choose the lesser of evils.

“He does make a good point,” Lucie said, looking at Rex keenly. “We don't want this affair to attract any attention yet.”

“Very well,” Rex said at last. “Illya, you will repair this jamming device for us. No doubt Central will be delighted to have it working anyway.”

No doubt. He hoped this wasn't a mistake. He nodded, showing his unconcern.

Kurt stared daggers at him across the table.

*

For the first time in his life, Alexander Waverly was irritated by a plan's success. It had been three days now since Mr Kuryakin had ostensibly betrayed them and joined THRUSH, and the mood around the building was unpleasant to say the least. He'd hard far too many dark whispers of mistrust claiming to have always known Kuryakin wasn't to be trusted, and more than a few unfortunate remarks regarding Mr Kuryakin's nationality. Yes, he wanted Mr Kuryakin to appear a traitor to all, and he'd gone to some considerable effort to make sure that was the case, but the fact that this affair was once again uncovering old prejudices in his supposedly non-partisan organisation was a source of considerable irritation. He might make pragmatic use of those prejudices, but that didn't mean he appreciated them.

Of course, not all were entirely convinced. He'd observed a few flickers of doubt from the Section II agents who knew Kuryakin best. They at least doubted that he would throw in his lot with THRUSH no matter the provocation. Absolutely true, of course, but hardly a point of view he could be seen to be encouraging in the current climate. Instinct told him that none of his agents would fall prey to this scheme, but instinct had been wrong before and he wasn't prepared to take that chance. He had let cold fury rage at the betrayal and had raised no objection to some very colourful remarks Marco Cortese had made in his presence as to Mr Kuryakin's character and breeding.

He shuffled papers across his desk and sighed. It had been easy enough to order Mr Kuryakin be captured rather than killed if at all possible. Without knowing what information the traitor had passed on, it was the logical choice – indeed, it was the order he would likely give were this real. Not to mention with the Soviets still supposedly breathing down his neck demanding the return of their...property, as they had so distastefully put it...keeping Mr Kuryakin alive made sense. Hopefully his order would be enough to protect him from their own people at least, as would the fact that at present they simply did not have the first idea where Mr Kuryakin might be.

Truthfully, he didn't even know whether his agent was still alive, although in the absence of evidence to the contrary, he was going to act as though he were. He had formed this plan because he trusted Mr Kuryakin to carry it through successfully. There was no reason to doubt that.

He'd also ordered Mr Kuryakin's access codes rescinded, his office and apartment thoroughly searched, and his bank accounts frozen. In short, he'd taken every step to brand the young man a traitor, and that too had him feeling some flicker of irritation – or regret.

In the meantime, he was doing his best to weed out the other unfortunate victims of this plot. Having a known traitor within the organisation was a perfect reason to go through the records, looking for evidence of leaked intelligence. He brought in three analysts from Section IV chosen partly on their own merits and partly on their lack of close family, and told them not to confine their search to information Mr Kuryakin could have leaked. After all, where there was one traitor, there could be others.

Hopefully that would give them a starting point.

*

Being outside was a relief, Illya thought. There was something stifling about that house, at least in his mind.

It had been four days now, and other than the time he'd been working on the jammer, he'd spent much of it training in the gym and the firing range. Not that he really needed it, but his new employers wanted to check what he was capable of, and he'd been quite keen to see what the others could do as well, for all the obvious reasons. Plus it had been quite gratifying to see the look on Kurt's face the first time he hit the mat.

He'd found reasons to go out every day, just for a short while. Legitimate reasons that no one could take exception to; buying more clothes, picking up extra parts for the jammer. checking if his bank account was still accessible – it wasn't, but Nick had arranged an advance on his THRUSH salary, plus a generous signing on bonus that was apparently standard for all agents coming in at his pay grade. The amount of money was...surprising. And a little obscene. What wasn't surprising was that he had not been allowed out unaccompanied. Oh, they'd been subtle about it, but Nick or Lucie always insisted on coming along with him. Which was fine, he'd had no plans of making contact with UNCLE, not least because he simply didn't have much to report. No, this was simply to get them used to the idea of him out in the world so that when he did have to pass a message on, no one would be looking at him so hard.

Checking the house from top to bottom had been his first step, naturally enough, a move that he'd been easily able to play off as a sensible desire to familiarise himself completely with his new surroundings. Unfortunately it had taken him no time at all to realise that not only were there no signs of any children in this house, there was nothing to suggest there ever had been. There were no rooms that suggested anyone might have been being held for any length of time. No, reason told him that the children must be being held elsewhere. Worse, no one mentioned children or hostages in any way. Whatever was going on, clearly wasn't subject for casual conversation, and without a lead in, he was reluctant to raise the subject himself.

“Have you got everything you need?” Nick asked, as they walked away from the electronics shop.

“Yes,” he said truthfully. It would be relatively simple to repurpose components to amplify the signal. The theory was already there, after all.

“You know we could send people out to get whatever you need,” Nick said knowingly as they walked down the street, Illya turning his face towards the sun.

He flashed Nick a brief, half smile. “I could not be sure they would get precisely what is required.”

“And you wouldn't get to enjoy the fresh air,” Nick said, holding up his hand immediately to forestall any protest. “No, I get it, you're used to a more active life than this and you're restless. Makes sense; so am I. Once Rex gives us the order to move on this assignment, things will be better.”

Hopefully. Because being stuck in this limbo was getting him nowhere.

A woman's scream suddenly rang out from the alley beside them. He exchanged a quick, startled glance with Nick.

“Could be a trap,” Nick said reluctantly.

“Help me!” the voice screamed.

He grimaced. “Cover me,” he said, and Nick nodded and quickly moved to the side of the street.

Illya sprinted down the alley, looking around for the source of the screaming. There were too many shadows here, too many places to hide. He turned a corner only to find a large grey van, and beside it three figures, two men and a woman who didn't look noticeably threatened in any way. All of them were holding guns. All of them looked pleased to see him.

A trap, then. Of course. He should have known.

Immediately he threw himself to the side, diving for cover, but they were too quick for him, and the nearest of the men grabbed his arm and threw him bodily against the van door. His head hit off it with a dull, audible thump. “Comrade Kuryakin,” the man said in Russian, and blearily Illya noticed he had a distinct Georgian accent. “Did you really think you could get away with defying the Soviet Union? You will return with us now.”

No. No, that really wasn't part of the plan. He kicked out sharply at the Georgian's knee cap, and when he yelled and loosened his grip, he pushed past and started to run, but still dizzy, fell to the ground.

Three shots rang out, and the soviets scattered and ran, the van roaring off a moment later.

He sat up slowly as Nick came running up, his gun still in his hand. “Illya! Are you alright?”

“I'm fine,” he said, running his fingers gingerly over the growing lump on the back of his head. He blinked up at Nick, frowning slightly. “Thank you,” he said, wincing slightly at the surprise in his voice.

“You told me to cover you,” Nick reminded him. “Were they from UNCLE?”

“KGB,” he said briefly, wondering just how it was they'd found him? Perhaps Rex had wanted to see whether the Soviet government believed his defection to be real. Or perhaps he was just being paranoid.

“Ah.” Nick reached out a hand to help Illya up. “Come on, tovarisch, let's get out of here before they realise that they technically outnumber us.”

For an instant he froze before he managed to force himself to take the friendly hand. “Why did you call me that?” he said, his voice filled with nothing more than normal curiosity.

“That's what you people call each other, right?” Nick said with a shrug. “Comrade. I thought it was fitting.”

His mouth was dry. Was Nick making a point here? After that conversation about Napoleon...it wasn't impossible that THRUSH was aware that Napoleon called him that from time to time. Or then again, maybe it was simply that it was a rather obvious nickname for an unimaginative American to give his Russian...colleague. “Your pronunciation is terrible,” he said with a smile.

“You're the linguist, not me,” Nick told him with a laugh. “English is all I can manage, I'm afraid. So how do you say it?”

“Tovarisch,” Illya said slowly. “The stress is on the second syllable.”

“Tovarisch,” Nick repeated intently.

He smiled. “Much better,” he said. “Now come on. Let's get back to the house. I need to get this jammer finished before tomorrow.”

*

Eventually someone was going to invent a black ski mask that didn't itch, Illya thought grumpily as he carefully pulled his down. Of course, when they did, crime would be a far more attractive proposition and the crime rate would probably skyrocket.

“Ready?” Nick asked expectantly and he nodded.

This was not so very different than anything he had done before. He set off the jammer just outside the door and once the security system shut down, Nick picked the lock and the pair of them slipped inside. So far so good.

There was no one behind the desk – they already knew that the guard's patrol would keep him clear of them for the next half hour or so. That should be plenty of time, provided nothing went wrong.

The office they were looking for was on the fourth floor. Again Nick picked the lock in a matter of seconds and they carefully started looking through filing cabinets for the correct file. Quietly he wanted to find it before Nick. After all, knowing what was in it mattered here. He had to know what it was he was aiding THRUSH to do.

“You know it would be much more convenient if they just filed things in alphabetical order,” Nick complained from the other side of the room.

He didn't look up. “I doubt they took the convenience of potential burglars into consideration when designing their filing system.”

“I've got a good mind to leave a note,” Nick said.

“Try and remember not to sign it,” Illya said dryly. Ah. Z-4TQLE. This was that they were looking for. Quickly he took the file out and started taking pictures of it.

“You've found it?” Nick asked, sounding pleased as he came up behind him, resting a companionable arm on Illya's shoulder to look past him. “So what are we going after?”

He saw the details of the secure train and his heart seemed to freeze in his chest. “Plutonium,” he said leadenly.

Nick whistled. “Well, that's going to be tricky, isn't it? Have you got what we need? Put the file away and lets get out of here.”

He had hoped to be able to leave the file out somewhere obvious so it would be apparent someone had read it, but under Nick's expectant eye, he had little choice but to put it back properly.

This wasn't something that he could allow to happen. He needed to get word to UNCLE, warn them. But he needed to stay undercover because they would need details of the plan, and he still wasn't sure where the children came into it, nor where they were.

He was deep in thought as they headed downstairs and he allowed Nick to go first which meant that when they got to the lobby Nick was the first to spot that the security guard had apparently abandoned his patrol for a chance to sit with his feet up on the desk, reading the paper.

They'd have to find another way out. He leaned forwards ready to tell Nick that he remembered that there was an external door in the canteen on the ground floor, but before he could say a word, Nick clicked his tongue in annoyance and shot the guard in the back.

Illya stood rooted to the spot as the guard slid off the chair with an unpleasant little gurgling noise.

“So much for not killing anyone,” Nick said with a sigh. “Sorry, pal, you should have been doing your job like you were supposed to.” He laughed and half-turned to look at Illya, and Illya had never been so glad to be wearing a mask.

“Can we move on now?” he asked, and if he couldn't manage amusement at least he could pretend cold indifference.

“Certainly,” Nick said, clapping him heartily on the arm, and Illya had never hated anyone more than he hated Nick in that moment.

The guard wasn't quite dead. It would only be a matter of minutes though, there was clearly nothing that could be done. His life was bleeding out from between his fingers. He looked up at them as they walked past, the plea for his life showing clear on his face.

Illya couldn't save him. But he didn't even try.

“Come on, tovarisch,” Nick said cheerfully. “Let's go home.”

Comments

[irisheitie.livejournal.com]

Very, very good solid plot here. And it definitely thickens. Keep writing, I can't stand waiting!!!

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Thank you! It's interesting writing the THRUSH plot more from their point of view, rather than how it would be foiled.

I'd hope to have the next chapter done by the middle of next week.

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

This story just gets better with each new chapter.  I hope you've got another one going.

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Thanks - yes, I've started on the next one already you'll be glad to hear, though, as I always find, I keep getting distracted by little snippets of what happens two or three chapters hence.

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

I have a feeling that Kurt is going to be somewhat of a problem for Illya. Keep up to he exceptional work. You have me well and truly hooked.

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Oh, Kurt is definitely a problem. Illya's long past the point where he can persuade him he's not a threat. Glad you're still enjoying this! Thanks.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Ahhhh finally caught up! Very very intense chapter. Illya's clarity during the torture session was well done. His dark side is coming through, especially at the end: "Illya couldn't save him. But he didn't even try." That said it all.

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Thanks! Yeah, he's going along with it for the sake of his cover, but it's the sort of thing I really don't think would sit well with him though.

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

This is a tough mission for Illya. I like how you give us insights on how he decides to act out his roll, how he reasons it out. The UNCLE guard's death by Kurt's hand and his comradery with Illya after the fact was so cold! Strange seeing all this unfold from the other sides point of view..

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Oh, thank you. Glad you liked the chapter - it's odd writing it from the other side's pov as well. The guard wasn't an UNCLE guard btw - he worked for the transport company. But glad the companionship after the fact seemed cold - it was supposed to kind of come out of left field.