"Sticks and Stones" ~ for PicFic Tuesday Challenge

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

The prompt:

Illya Kuryakin waited patiently at the airport for his partner’s flight to arrive. He told Napoleon he would be there to pick him up, regardless of the time.

The flight was supposed to land at eleven in the evening, but it was now delayed due to inclement weather.

The waiting area was nearly empty this time of night but for some reason a couple decided to sit right behind the Russian rather than choosing one of the many empty seats available.

Though he thought it odd for a moment, he shrugged it off, as he sensed no danger. Other than them invading his little bit of space, there was nothing that seemed untoward about them.

Still being a spy trained to eavesdrop, Illya turn an ear to their conversation.

“I’m so sick of our government pussy footing around with these goddamn Commies. Why don’t we just drop the bomb on their candy asses and wipe them off the face of the earth.”

“John, remember you’re a civilian now. You really shouldn’t talk like that; you never know who’s listening?”

“Margaret, I’m not afraid. Let one of them red menace sympathizers just try telling me I can’t exercise my freedom of speech. I fought for it, and we helped those pinkos fight of that goddamn Hitler. Hell we defeated him, not them. What did they do, turn on us like the rat bastards that they are...building that damned wall in Germany.”

“John, hush. People might hear.”

“I will not hush. I have a right to say what I think!”

“Well then please just watch your language? Your talk of dropping the A-bomb is so frightening. What if they drop it on us first?”

“That’s why we should do it before they do. Kill ‘em all off I say.”

It was all Kuryakin could do to restrain himself.

“Kill of every last one?” The dark haired Margaret gasped.”John there’s women and children there. Do you want to kill innocent people?”

“Why not? Keep the little pinkos from growing up and coming after us. They’re nothing but animals anyway. The earth keeps going round, whether it’s the man who kills the tiger or the tiger who eats the man. It’s the survival of the fittest, you can’t argue with the laws of nature. That’s the way it is, we’re the superior country and we need to let them Russkies know it.”

That was it. Illya stood and walked around to face the man. He leaned forward, making sure his Special nestled in its black leather holster was clearly visible.

He spoke sotto voce,“Sir, have you ever really listened to what diatribe spouts from your mouth? Your words are not unlike those of the same megalomaniac you have claimed such pride in defeating.”

“And I quote…’The earth continues to go round, whether it is the man who kills the tiger or the tiger who eats the man. The stronger asserts his will, it is the law of nature. The world does not change; its laws are eternal.”

“And who the hell are you?”

“Only a Russkie who works to maintain the security and safety of the world and all its inhabitants.”

Illya turned to the wife.”Madam you have my condolences for having to put up with such an ignorant buffoon for a husband. Now if you will excuse me, my friend has arrived. Do svidaniya.”

“Well I never!” Margaret blurted out. “John are you going to let him talk to you like that?”

“Oh and here is my card,” the agent flipped it into the man’s lap. “My name is Illya Kuryakin and I am Russian. If you have any questions feel free to contact my employer, the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement. We are an multinational organization that helps keep the world a safer place for people like you to live in...just in case you are not familiar with it.”

The man’s face paled when he heard that as he obviously recognized the name. “No that won’t be necessary, ummm. Sorry I insulted you buddy, no harm meant.”

“Perhaps you need to listen to your wife more and learn to just shut up, or maybe just think before you speak about killing innocent people.” Kuryakin spun on his heels and headed toward Solo who had spotted him and was walking his way.

“You okay Illya, you look a little flushed?” Napoleon asked as he joined his partner.

“I am fine; the air was just getting a bit stuffy in here. How was your trip?”

“Good. Everything went off without a hitch. You hungry? Wait, you’re always hungry. I’m famished, care to have something to eat with me? I have a couple of steaks in the freezer at home. There’s beer in the fridge too. The meal they served on the plane wasn't very appealing, even you wouldn't have liked it...some sort of stewed fish."

“I actually have no appetite at the moment, “Illya glanced at the man and woman still seated on the bench as he and Solo walked past.

“Something’s wrong with you; I can’t remember you ever turning down a free meal.”

“Napoleon, please. I just want to go home and go to sleep. Is there anything wrong with that?” He snapped.

Solo’s brows shot up in surprise. Something was definitely wrong but he decided not to push the issue. Maybe Illya would open up on the ride home from the airport.

The ride home was done in complete silence until the car finally exited the Queens Midtown Tunnel. It was then Kuryakin spoke at last, asking an odd question out of the blue.

“Why are Americans terrified of Soviet Union….why would they want to drop atomic bomb on innocent men, women and children who have never done them any harm?”

Napoleon slowly turned his head.”And where may I ask is this coming from?”

“I overheard that man back in the airport, the one seated on the bench with the dark haired woman who was his wife. Beyond the usual ridiculous name calling of Commie, pinko and red menace, he was advocating dropping atomic bomb before Soviets do; he called for killing of Russian children so they would not be able to grow up and seek revenge. His words mirrored some of Hitler’s, calling my people animals, and went on about survival of fittest...as if we are unfit to live! It was very unsettling.”

Now Solo understood and listened as his partner’s accent thickened, that usually happened when Kuryakin was either drunk, agitated...or both.

“Illya I’m sorry you had to hear something like that. He doesn’t represent my country. There’s people out there who are more afraid of nuclear war than starting one. I don’t think they want to annihilate the Russian people, especially their children, anymore than the Russians want to do it to us either. People are afraid and when fear controls them, they say stupid things."

“I hope you are right.” Illya parked the car at the curb as they’d arrived at their apartment building.

Napoleon did a quick change of subject, repeating his invitation to eat. “Sure I can’t interest you in that steak and beer, tovarisch?”

“No, thank you. Sleep is the best thing for me at the moment. ”

They headed upstairs and Solo waited while his partner unlocked his door.

“Good night Napoleon.”

“Sleep well, and thanks for the lift.”

The door closed but Solo waited outside for a moment before heading upstairs to his apartment. A minute later heard the sound of glass breaking.

“Illya? You okay?” He called out.

“Yes, fine Napoleon. Sorry, just knocked over a glass. Again good night," came the muffled answer.

Kuryakin was lying, as he’d thrown a glassful of vodka that he’d poured for himself, smashing it on the kitchen floor. Despite what his partner had said to assuage him, Illya was still feeling troubled about the incident at the airport.

He knew it would pass, like so many other things in life that bothered him. His feelings needed to be set aside, internalized and hopefully forgotten...for now.

Illya swept up the broken glass and tossed it in the dust bin. He thought about pouring himself another drink but decided against it. Knowing how he was feeling at the moment it would only lead to another drink, and then another.

He didn’t need a hangover in the morning...