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section7mfuBecause I had such fun with our Round Robin that I wanted to write an epilogue of sorts. ;) I love writing Ecks and Wye interacting ... and clashing with Napoleon and Illya.
The Aftermath of the Fortune Cookie Affair
Rating: K/G
Summary: Ecks and Wye discuss their part in The Fortune Cookie Affair, while Napoleon and Illya are not far away.
By Lucky_Ladybug
They entered a café and Ecks immediately crossed to the counter, folding his arms on top of it and resting his forehead against them. “I never thought U.N.C.L.E. would let us go once we were actually in their grasp.”
Wye sat next to him, patting him between the shoulder blades. “What did they have on us, Duck? You socked Kuryakin in the face and that was only because he was comin’ after you.”
“They could have blamed us for the gun battle, the bomb at the bar, and any number of other calamities,” Ecks mumbled.
“Which they didn’t. And Mr. Waverly seemed to believe what we told him about not really being part of THRUSH.” Wye rubbed the boy’s back. It had been a long, hard day and they were both exhausted and overwhelmed. And the memory of hearing Ecks cry out in pain and then seeing him collapse to the warehouse floor after Angelique had attacked him burned strong in his mind.
Wye had done it again, just as he had back in Hyde Park and at Zed’s house: he had completely lost it and gone ballistic on Angelique, fearing that she had used a fatal poison on his friend. And then that female U.N.C.L.E. agent had shot him with a sleeping dart. He had awakened thinking Ecks was probably dead.
Ecks finally looked up. He had been surprised when Wye had rushed to him at U.N.C.L.E. HQ, amazed to find him alive. He had seen that haunted look in Wye’s eyes and had realized that Wye had gone through something painful again.
“. . . He also wanted to know what we’re really doing now,” he mused. “He didn’t think we’d be able to get spy jobs anywhere, after we betrayed the organization.”
“Which is true, of course. But I almost had the sense that we didn’t need to tell him what we’re up to,” Wye said. “He acted like he already knew, or at least suspected.”
Ecks managed a smirk. “People like Waverly and Zed always act like they know everything. What’s creepy is that sometimes it seems like they really do.”
“Only Zed’s all-knowing failed him in the end,” Wye remarked. “U.N.C.L.E. had better hope Waverly doesn’t have a similar fate someday.”
“And now what do we do?” Ecks sighed. “Angelique figured out we’re infiltrators, even though she was mistaken about us being part of another extremist group. We can’t go back to THRUSH.”
“Well, at least we collected a good portion of information to pass on to our employers,” Wye said. “We’ll just have to take it to them and tell them our covers were blown.” He scowled at the empty room. “And where the ruddy devil is anyone in this place?”
“Ah, I’m afraid we sent the waitress into the kitchen for a while,” Napoleon intoned as he suddenly walked out, Illya right behind him.
Ecks stiffened. “You were eavesdropping on us! Why?”
“We hoped you might start discussing the day’s events if you were alone,” Illya said, narrowing his eyes at Ecks. One eye was all the more black-and-blue from where Ecks had punched him earlier. “You should really be more careful on what you discuss in public.”
“Says the chaps what started this whole mess by havin’ a favorite go-to eatin’ spot,” Wye grunted.
“He does have a point,” Napoleon said, glancing to an unimpressed but grudgingly relenting Illya.
“Perhaps we should all be more careful,” Illya said, folding his arms.
“Your boss was unconcerned enough to let us go,” Ecks said angrily. “Don’t you trust his word?”
“Yes, of course,” said Napoleon. “But when we saw you heading here, we still thought it might be worth the little detour to hear what you’d say.” Or rather, Illya had. He was still annoyed with Ecks for that fight early in the day and suspicious of both of them for coming back from the dead and traveling to New York.
“Well, I hope you’ve been entertained by our little unwitting show,” Wye said dryly.
“At least we know you aren’t working for extremists again,” Napoleon said.
“Who is your current employer?” Illya demanded.
Ecks sneered at him. “We wouldn’t tell Waverly. We’re not going to tell you, Kuryakin.”
Illya scowled. “I am tempted to treat you to a black eye of your own.”
“I think Wye would give you a matching one if you tried,” Ecks giggled.
“I think we’ve learned all that we’re going to,” Napoleon quickly interjected. “How about we quietly take our leave and go on to Chang’s as we intended?”
“Oh, off to Chang’s again, in spite of everything?” Wye chortled.
“They really have got you two as customers for life,” Ecks added.
Still glowering at the two enemy agents, Illya finally headed for the door. “Nevermind that. We’ll be watching you,” he promised.
“We’ll see about that,” Wye answered, unconcerned.
“Goodbye,” Napoleon said. “Enjoy your meal.” He followed Illya out, letting the door close behind them.
Ecks rolled his eyes once they were gone. “So now we’ll have them breathing down our necks too.” He leaned backwards on the counter, resting his elbows on it.
“Eh. Don’t worry about it, Ecks,” Wye replied, leaning sideways on the counter with one elbow. “They won’t know what we’re up to every minute unless they tried to plant bugs on us, and we’d discover those soon enough. Anyway, they’ll soon be so busy with their caseload they won’t have any spare time to worry about us.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Ecks consented.
A blonde waitress hurried out of the kitchen now, looking somewhat nervous and disheveled. “I’m sorry for the delay,” she exclaimed. “If you gentlemen still want to order, I’ll take it now.”
They turned to face her. “I think that sounds like a right nice idea,” Wye said. “But since you agreed to let those U.N.C.L.E. chaps spy on us, Lovey, I say you owe us a free meal.”
The waitress flushed. “Of . . . of course, Sir,” she stammered. “Whatever you want.”
Wye nodded, pleased. “There now. That’s better.”
Outside, Illya still eyed them suspiciously through the glass window. “Mr. Waverly said they’re staying right here in New York now,” he frowned.
“New York is a large city,” Napoleon said, going around to his car.
Illya followed him. “Large enough for all four of us?”
“Hmm. That is a good question,” Napoleon mused. “I guess we’ll find out.”
The Aftermath of the Fortune Cookie Affair
Rating: K/G
Summary: Ecks and Wye discuss their part in The Fortune Cookie Affair, while Napoleon and Illya are not far away.
They entered a café and Ecks immediately crossed to the counter, folding his arms on top of it and resting his forehead against them. “I never thought U.N.C.L.E. would let us go once we were actually in their grasp.”
Wye sat next to him, patting him between the shoulder blades. “What did they have on us, Duck? You socked Kuryakin in the face and that was only because he was comin’ after you.”
“They could have blamed us for the gun battle, the bomb at the bar, and any number of other calamities,” Ecks mumbled.
“Which they didn’t. And Mr. Waverly seemed to believe what we told him about not really being part of THRUSH.” Wye rubbed the boy’s back. It had been a long, hard day and they were both exhausted and overwhelmed. And the memory of hearing Ecks cry out in pain and then seeing him collapse to the warehouse floor after Angelique had attacked him burned strong in his mind.
Wye had done it again, just as he had back in Hyde Park and at Zed’s house: he had completely lost it and gone ballistic on Angelique, fearing that she had used a fatal poison on his friend. And then that female U.N.C.L.E. agent had shot him with a sleeping dart. He had awakened thinking Ecks was probably dead.
Ecks finally looked up. He had been surprised when Wye had rushed to him at U.N.C.L.E. HQ, amazed to find him alive. He had seen that haunted look in Wye’s eyes and had realized that Wye had gone through something painful again.
“. . . He also wanted to know what we’re really doing now,” he mused. “He didn’t think we’d be able to get spy jobs anywhere, after we betrayed the organization.”
“Which is true, of course. But I almost had the sense that we didn’t need to tell him what we’re up to,” Wye said. “He acted like he already knew, or at least suspected.”
Ecks managed a smirk. “People like Waverly and Zed always act like they know everything. What’s creepy is that sometimes it seems like they really do.”
“Only Zed’s all-knowing failed him in the end,” Wye remarked. “U.N.C.L.E. had better hope Waverly doesn’t have a similar fate someday.”
“And now what do we do?” Ecks sighed. “Angelique figured out we’re infiltrators, even though she was mistaken about us being part of another extremist group. We can’t go back to THRUSH.”
“Well, at least we collected a good portion of information to pass on to our employers,” Wye said. “We’ll just have to take it to them and tell them our covers were blown.” He scowled at the empty room. “And where the ruddy devil is anyone in this place?”
“Ah, I’m afraid we sent the waitress into the kitchen for a while,” Napoleon intoned as he suddenly walked out, Illya right behind him.
Ecks stiffened. “You were eavesdropping on us! Why?”
“We hoped you might start discussing the day’s events if you were alone,” Illya said, narrowing his eyes at Ecks. One eye was all the more black-and-blue from where Ecks had punched him earlier. “You should really be more careful on what you discuss in public.”
“Says the chaps what started this whole mess by havin’ a favorite go-to eatin’ spot,” Wye grunted.
“He does have a point,” Napoleon said, glancing to an unimpressed but grudgingly relenting Illya.
“Perhaps we should all be more careful,” Illya said, folding his arms.
“Your boss was unconcerned enough to let us go,” Ecks said angrily. “Don’t you trust his word?”
“Yes, of course,” said Napoleon. “But when we saw you heading here, we still thought it might be worth the little detour to hear what you’d say.” Or rather, Illya had. He was still annoyed with Ecks for that fight early in the day and suspicious of both of them for coming back from the dead and traveling to New York.
“Well, I hope you’ve been entertained by our little unwitting show,” Wye said dryly.
“At least we know you aren’t working for extremists again,” Napoleon said.
“Who is your current employer?” Illya demanded.
Ecks sneered at him. “We wouldn’t tell Waverly. We’re not going to tell you, Kuryakin.”
Illya scowled. “I am tempted to treat you to a black eye of your own.”
“I think Wye would give you a matching one if you tried,” Ecks giggled.
“I think we’ve learned all that we’re going to,” Napoleon quickly interjected. “How about we quietly take our leave and go on to Chang’s as we intended?”
“Oh, off to Chang’s again, in spite of everything?” Wye chortled.
“They really have got you two as customers for life,” Ecks added.
Still glowering at the two enemy agents, Illya finally headed for the door. “Nevermind that. We’ll be watching you,” he promised.
“We’ll see about that,” Wye answered, unconcerned.
“Goodbye,” Napoleon said. “Enjoy your meal.” He followed Illya out, letting the door close behind them.
Ecks rolled his eyes once they were gone. “So now we’ll have them breathing down our necks too.” He leaned backwards on the counter, resting his elbows on it.
“Eh. Don’t worry about it, Ecks,” Wye replied, leaning sideways on the counter with one elbow. “They won’t know what we’re up to every minute unless they tried to plant bugs on us, and we’d discover those soon enough. Anyway, they’ll soon be so busy with their caseload they won’t have any spare time to worry about us.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Ecks consented.
A blonde waitress hurried out of the kitchen now, looking somewhat nervous and disheveled. “I’m sorry for the delay,” she exclaimed. “If you gentlemen still want to order, I’ll take it now.”
They turned to face her. “I think that sounds like a right nice idea,” Wye said. “But since you agreed to let those U.N.C.L.E. chaps spy on us, Lovey, I say you owe us a free meal.”
The waitress flushed. “Of . . . of course, Sir,” she stammered. “Whatever you want.”
Wye nodded, pleased. “There now. That’s better.”
Outside, Illya still eyed them suspiciously through the glass window. “Mr. Waverly said they’re staying right here in New York now,” he frowned.
“New York is a large city,” Napoleon said, going around to his car.
Illya followed him. “Large enough for all four of us?”
“Hmm. That is a good question,” Napoleon mused. “I guess we’ll find out.”
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