The Left Behind - Picfic, August 25th

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

There was a pond on the edge of the hospital grounds, soft blue water overhung with trees. Napoleon pushed the wheelchair down the gravel path towards it and carefully positioned Randolph so the bulk of St Joshua's was behind him. Out of sight, out of mind.

“It's nice here, isn't it?” he asked, looking around, a breeze ruffling through his hair. “Peaceful.” He thought Randolph could probably use some peaceful.

It was a long moment before Randolph spoke. He gazed vacantly at the water. “Leibowitz drowned a girl in the water,” he said. “She kicked and struggled and he laughed.”

Napoleon sighed. “That wasn't here,” he said. “That was back in Istanbul, remember? In the fountain.”

“He laughed,” Randolph repeated, turning that blank gaze on him. “My leg hurts.” He reached down beneath the blanket and patted uncertainly at the edge of his knee where his leg stopped. Even though Napoleon had heard it too many times he still shuddered at the soft, keening moan.

Like many Section II agents, Randolph didn't have much family, nor many visitors. Napoleon tried to get out to see him when he could, when the guilt outweighed the awfulness of seeing so much of what had made Randolph who he was stripped away. He knew from an objective point of view it was a pointless exercise – within five minutes of him leaving Randolph had forgotten he was ever there – but that didn't make a difference. It was what it was, and whether that was because he was CEA, or because Randolph had been his partner once, even if only for a few weeks, this was his duty.

On good days Randolph would recognise him and they'd talk for a while about the hospital, about football, about the weather – anything but the past and UNCLE. On a bad day Randolph would look past him with unseeing eyes, his nails raking rhythmically over the scars on his face, shrapnel from the explosion, until the nurses firmly led Napoleon away.

Fortunately today was a good day; this wasn't simply a social call.

He crouched down in front of the wheelchair. “Randolph, I wanted to talk to you about the Black Silver Affair,” he said, slow and clear like he was talking to a child. “Do you remember? There was a scientist working on a new energy source.”

Randolph lifted his head, a slow frown appearing, and looked around himself, peering sharply at the trees. “Where are we?”

“The UNCLE rehabilitation hospital,” Napoleon told him soothingly. “St Joshua's. It's fine. We're safe.”

“They're looking for me,” Randolph insisted. “Napoleon, you have to run. There's a bomb – I told you not to trust that commie bastard.”

Experience had him grabbing Randolph's arms a moment before he tried to get up. “Easy, pal,” he said uselessly. He didn't bother explaining – again - that Illya hadn't been the traitor. Randolph wouldn't understand.

After a second Randolph blinked and gazed up at him. “Napoleon!” The smile spread across his face. “When did you get here?”

“A while ago,” he said easily. “You were telling me about the Black Silver Affair, remember? There was a scientist, Dr Marc Leaman. In your report you said he died, but there was no body.”

“Of course,” Randolph agreed foggily. “He was afraid of what he'd created. He wanted to run. His daughter....Sally....I let him go.”

“I see,” he said carefully, and he didn't let any judgement show. Whatever the reasons had been all that time ago Randolph was long passed answering for his actions. “That's good. I'm glad you remembered. Thank you, Randolph, you've been a great help.” He stood up and signalled towards the nurse waiting in the distance.

“Are you leaving now?” Randolph asked.

“I have to, buddy,” Napoleon said. “I'm sorry.”

“You're going after THRUSH,” Randolph said with a hint of his old shrewdness. “Let me come too. I don't need to stay in the hospital anymore, it's just my leg and it's not that bad.”

“You need to stay here until you're better,” Napoleon said, his even tone smoothing over all the cracks. “I need you at one hundred percent.”

“But you shouldn't go out there alone,” Randolph insisted. “You know what Peterson says.”

“I'll be careful,” he promised.

Randolph reached a hand out towards him and then seemed to become lost. “Napoleon. It's good to see you.”

“And you,” he said with an agonising smile. “But I need to be going.”

“Oh.” He turned and gazed over the pond. “Leibowitz drowned the girl, you know,” he said. “Killed her.”

“I know,” Napoleon said gently.

“Sometimes I think I died too.”

*

Illya was waiting for him in the lobby with a cup of coffee. They'd thought he'd best wait out of Randolph's sight – the last time he'd caught a glimpse of Illya it had triggered some sort of episode. Napoleon remembered the crushing grip around his wrist while Randolph had screamed about Istanbul, about commie traitors, about Korea, and none of it had made sense.

“Did you get anything?” Illya asked as he stood up.

He nodded. “Like you thought, Leaman is alive. He's with a daughter, apparently. I've given the name to headquarters. We should hear back soon.”

“Good.” Illya was studying him closely. “How was Mr Carlisle?” he asked delicately.

“It was a good day,” Napoleon said shortly and didn't bother to explain what that meant. Illya could guess. He hesitated for a second and he wanted to say something, some fervent prayer that neither of them ever end up like that, but there was nothing to be said. Some things were all too obvious.

“And you?” Illya asked intently.

“Fine. As always.” He forced a smile. “Come on. Let's go and canvas the lab again while we're waiting for news on the daughter.”

They started to walk out the door and Napoleon glanced up at the sign above their heads. St Joshua's. Patron saint of spies. He sighed at the thought. Some days he really doubted that anyone was looking out for them.

Illya's shoulder brushed casually against his as they walked and he smiled tiredly.

At least they had each other.

Comments

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Well, as you might have noticed, Randolph is Napoleon's partner from my first meeting story. So the backstory to this story is how their partnership came to be....which I'll probably write at some point. :)

Glad you enjoyed it, thanks for commenting.