"All's well that ends well, right?" Short Affair October 19th

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

-Prompt Word #2 – Lacerate

-Prompt Colour – Forest Green

Author: mrua7

Title: All’s well that ends well, right?
Word Count: Approx. 1,000

Solo and Kuryakin were accustomed to finding their lives in jeopardy; it was the status quo really, though neither man let it become so routine that they let down their guard. Becoming lax and complacent increased your risk of most likely losing your life, something neither man wished to have happen.

So far they’d come close to dying too many times, but this time it looked like one or both of them were going to buy the farm.

The Russian, having been tortured already, was tied to a wall while he was forced to watch their captors lacerate his partner’s already bruised back.

Neither of them could endure such treatment much longer.

“For what?” Kuryakin asked himself.”To prevent the discovery of a formula that had not even been proven to work or not? Were they going to die for that? No not for that, not this time…”

“Stop...I will tell you,” he gasped.

“Illya no! Don’t do it!” Napoleon called out, his voice rasping with pain.

“Yes,” he hissed in reply.”This cannot continue.”

Einar Magnusson, a Danish fanatic, ceased torture of Solo.

“Endelig er du kommet til dine sanser Russisk.(Finally you come to your senses Russian.)

Einar’s twin Elbe reached over with a massive hand to Illya, wrenching Kuryakin’s head back by the hair.

The man was identical in appearance to his brother, towering over the UNCLE agents, standing at least six foot seven inches tall. Their heads were topped with hair so blond that it was nearly white, and their facial features handsomely chiseled.

“Talk, or we will kill your American friend.”

“I will tell you on one condition; you must let Solo go, unharmed.”

Einar let out a belly laugh,”Did you not hear me? Talk or we kill him.”

“Kill him and I will never talk. Free him and the formula is yours.”

“Illya!” Napoleon moaned, only to receive a slap across the face.

“This you have my word,” Illya’s bruised chin jutted out defiantly.

“Very well, you get your way. Befri amerikanske, bror. (free the American, brother,” Einar instructed.

Napoleon was cut free of his bindings and dropped to the floor. Elbe draped a forest green blanket over his shoulders and lifted him to his feet.

Solo mustered himself, wrenching free of the the big Dane’s grasp. “Illya don’t do it; you’ll be branded a traitor.”

“It will be worth it to save your life my friend. Now go.”

Elbe gave Solo a shove towards the basement stairs, and laughed as the American staggered. Once up those and through the door Napoleon could leave the house and gain his freedom.

“There is one more caveat,” Illya interrupted.

“No, we free him. That is the deal.”Einar barked.

“How am I to know he is truly free? You are to give Solo your telephone number and when he is safe, he is to call and speak to me, letting me know. Once I have given you the formula, you let me go as well.”

“That is two caveats,” Elbe said.

“Oh you can count?” Illya quipped.

“Very well,” Einar growled.”They are reasonable requests.” He scribbled a phone number on a scrap of paper and shoved it into Napoleon’s hand.

“I guess this is goodbye tovarisch,”Napoleon nodded.” You’ll be hunted down for this.”

“I know my friend, just like in Marseille.”

“Enough, the farewells are at an end!” Einar shouted. The idea that UNCLE would hunt down Kuryakin for being a traitorous dog greatly amused him.

Solo climbed the stairs and was gone; slamming the door behind himself.

They waited.Thirty minutes passed, then an hour...







Elbe angrily paced back and forth. “They tricked us. Solo isn’t going to call, and the damned Russian isn’t going to talk!” He slammed his fist into Illya’s mid-section, making his gasp for air.

“Your friend has abandoned you Kuryakin. So why not tell us what we want to know...you can join us. It’s obvious the American doesn’t care about you.”

Illya’s head lowered; the disappointment showing on his face.

“You will have a place for me?”

“Yes, this I promise,” Einar grinned.

“Very well, but first might you cut my ropes and let me sit?”

Elbe quickly freed Kuryakin and pulled a chair at the table for him to be seated. He put a pad and pencil there for Illya to write down the formula.

“Water? May I have some water please?”

“Give it to him,”Einar said impatiently.

Illya greedily drank and finally picking up the pencil; he began to slowly write. Just as he finished, the telephone rang.

Einar snatched the pad from the table as his brother answered the phone.

“Det’ Elbe.”

His eyes went wide. “It is Solo and he says the house is surrounded.”

“Tell him if he does anything, then we'll kill the Russian.”

“I doubt that!” Illya barked as he dove for the floor, shimmying under a carpet.

The door at the top of the stairs opened and a glass ball came hurtling through the air. It shattered, filling the room with a white cloud of knockout gas. It was followed by sounds muffled of footsteps coming down the steps, voices and a lot of scrambling.

Minutes later the cloud dissipated with the Magnusson’s both unconscious on the floor.

“Illya?” Solo called out, finally seeing the lump under the rug; he lifted it and found his partner coughing but conscious. He pulled Kuryakin to his feet, spotting the pad with the formula.

“You gave it to them?”

“Of course I did not; that is the makings of freon and nothing more. What took you so long?” Illya dressed himself in a shirt Solo had brought.

“Hey you try to get someone to let a half-naked man use their phone. Though I finally did convince someone and called in the reinforcements.”

“Do not tell me; it was some lovely who had sympathy on you?”

“Well you did say just like Marseille?”

“And so I did,” Illya nodded.” I hope, unlike Marseille, you did not become entangled with the woman?”

“Moi? Would I do that, knowing you were hanging here within an inch of your life?”

“Yes… you did, did you not?”

“Maybe there was some kissing involved.”

“I thought so.”

“All’s well that ends well, right tovarisch,” Napoleon sheepishly grinned.

“Lucky for me.”

Comments

[carabele.livejournal.com]

[chuckle]

Ah the secret communication which passes all unknownst to their captors between the partners! ;-)

And the formula for Freon. Good one! Maybe Illya was dreaming of a nice air-conditioned hotel room!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Chuckling back. :D Thank you!

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

I knew Illya had to have something up his sleeve, though I was worried for a moment there. Wonderfully tense and ansty story.

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Of course there was some kissing involved. Isn't there always, with Napoleon? This was a fun story with an excellent plan between the two of them.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you! Glad you liked it!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Yes with Napoleon there's always kissing somehow.

The unspoken plan that only works between two people that know each other well.

Thanks for the compliments and the comment!

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Oh, it was almost very dire, but the clever Russian.and his astute partner. Very satisfying.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you! That's what they wanted you to think...between them they say a lot, but with few words. Friends sort of do that don't they...and smart spies. :D