Open Doors - Short Affair 8/29
Aug. 29th, 2016 10:38 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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section7mfuPrompts: gaunt, purple
..............................................
Illya Kuryakin was struggling to stay on his feet. Napoleon watched helplessly as his partner fought the drugs and the abuse, his gaunt features full of defiance even now as he listed from side to side, like a boat taking on water.
"C'mon Illya, you can do it. I'm here, just one step at a time and we can get out of this joint." The encouragement seemed like a good idea, but Illya was straining with every movement, pain searing through muscles contorted by the latest THRUSH chemical cocktail.
The Russian couldn't speak, his every fiber of being was devoted to trying to get near Napoleon, close enough to unlock the handcuffs shackling the agent to his chair. Illya had managed to pick a pocket, the right pocket, and lift the key from the lab assistant's pristine coat. She felt sorry for the blond, had almost succumbed to the blue eyes as they sought out her deepest feminine emotions. Just short of setting him free herself she had allowed him to get close enough to reach into the pocket of her lab coat and remove the key without her knowing it. She had been too fixated on his expression, the depth of his eyes, the arc of his eyebrows.
Before she let herself fall for an UNCLE agent, Daphne Dabree had practically run from the room. Her aunt would not think kindly towards her should the two men escape or, worse, if she were to fall in love with the Russian, Kuryakin. But he was so very alluring, even stripped down to his trousers, shot full of Dr. Dabree's insidious concoctions and bearing the marks of some very brutal blows. She admired him for withstanding all of it, for looking at her the way he did… A sigh escaped before she could disguise it as a huff of disgust.
Illya was clutching at the wall, at every piece of furniture to which he could cling, as he made his way towards Napoleon. At last he was close enough, his hand shaking as he grabbed hold of the handcuffs and turned the key. Napoleon noted the purple bruises, more alarming now that he was closer to his partner. They needed to get out of here fast, and Medical would be the first stop once the corridors of Headquarters were beneath their feet again.
The snap of the lock releasing was all Napoleon needed to spring free of them and the chair. He grabbed Illya by the shoulders before the man collapsed, instinctively hauling him up and over his shoulder to save time and effort; Illya wouldn't make it out if he had to walk. Their communicators were mixed in with a container of pens on the big desk. Napoleon grabbed them, grateful that Dabree had left them there.
For a split second Napoleon debated his course of action. Turn left and do battle with Dabree and her guards, or turn right towards the French doors leading out onto a wide lawn surrounded by trees. Illya couldn't help in a fight and right now he didn't feel like he could manage on his own. Better to get to the trees and call for help.
Napoleon walked with as much speed as he could manage with Illya's dead weight across his back. As he reached for the door handle a noise behind him caused him to hesitate, turning to see the source. It was the girl, Daphne.
"You need to stop… now… please." Her voice was unsure, a slight tremble alerting the agent that all was not yet lost.
"Daphne, come with us. You don't need to stay here and work for your aunt. I don't think you really believe in what she's doing here… I saw the way you looked at my partner. I saw disapproval." Napoleon was banking on the girl's infatuation with Illya and some undefinable sensibility that loathed what her aunt stood for.
"I… I can't. She's a cruel person to those who cross her, but I don't think that surprises you." Napoleon shook his head, still unsure what would happen next.
"Daphne, look at Illya. Is this really what you want to do with your life? I don't think this is your idea of justice; you're not a violent person.' He hesitated before continuing, allowing her to consider what he said.
"I don't think you're THRUSH material. But you might be UNCLE material, if you leave with us now and don't look back.." There, it was his best shot.
The girl looked around, fear leaking out from the veneer of strength she had tried to maintain.
"All right. Okay, yes… I will help you. But can you promise me that UNCLE will take me in, protect me? Will you?" Her eyes were imploring, her tone desperate.
"Yes. I promise, and I always keep my promises."
The deal was struck, and as the three scurried across the lawn and into the trees beyond, Dr. Dabree watched with calm approval.
..............................................
Illya Kuryakin was struggling to stay on his feet. Napoleon watched helplessly as his partner fought the drugs and the abuse, his gaunt features full of defiance even now as he listed from side to side, like a boat taking on water.
"C'mon Illya, you can do it. I'm here, just one step at a time and we can get out of this joint." The encouragement seemed like a good idea, but Illya was straining with every movement, pain searing through muscles contorted by the latest THRUSH chemical cocktail.
The Russian couldn't speak, his every fiber of being was devoted to trying to get near Napoleon, close enough to unlock the handcuffs shackling the agent to his chair. Illya had managed to pick a pocket, the right pocket, and lift the key from the lab assistant's pristine coat. She felt sorry for the blond, had almost succumbed to the blue eyes as they sought out her deepest feminine emotions. Just short of setting him free herself she had allowed him to get close enough to reach into the pocket of her lab coat and remove the key without her knowing it. She had been too fixated on his expression, the depth of his eyes, the arc of his eyebrows.
Before she let herself fall for an UNCLE agent, Daphne Dabree had practically run from the room. Her aunt would not think kindly towards her should the two men escape or, worse, if she were to fall in love with the Russian, Kuryakin. But he was so very alluring, even stripped down to his trousers, shot full of Dr. Dabree's insidious concoctions and bearing the marks of some very brutal blows. She admired him for withstanding all of it, for looking at her the way he did… A sigh escaped before she could disguise it as a huff of disgust.
Illya was clutching at the wall, at every piece of furniture to which he could cling, as he made his way towards Napoleon. At last he was close enough, his hand shaking as he grabbed hold of the handcuffs and turned the key. Napoleon noted the purple bruises, more alarming now that he was closer to his partner. They needed to get out of here fast, and Medical would be the first stop once the corridors of Headquarters were beneath their feet again.
The snap of the lock releasing was all Napoleon needed to spring free of them and the chair. He grabbed Illya by the shoulders before the man collapsed, instinctively hauling him up and over his shoulder to save time and effort; Illya wouldn't make it out if he had to walk. Their communicators were mixed in with a container of pens on the big desk. Napoleon grabbed them, grateful that Dabree had left them there.
For a split second Napoleon debated his course of action. Turn left and do battle with Dabree and her guards, or turn right towards the French doors leading out onto a wide lawn surrounded by trees. Illya couldn't help in a fight and right now he didn't feel like he could manage on his own. Better to get to the trees and call for help.
Napoleon walked with as much speed as he could manage with Illya's dead weight across his back. As he reached for the door handle a noise behind him caused him to hesitate, turning to see the source. It was the girl, Daphne.
"You need to stop… now… please." Her voice was unsure, a slight tremble alerting the agent that all was not yet lost.
"Daphne, come with us. You don't need to stay here and work for your aunt. I don't think you really believe in what she's doing here… I saw the way you looked at my partner. I saw disapproval." Napoleon was banking on the girl's infatuation with Illya and some undefinable sensibility that loathed what her aunt stood for.
"I… I can't. She's a cruel person to those who cross her, but I don't think that surprises you." Napoleon shook his head, still unsure what would happen next.
"Daphne, look at Illya. Is this really what you want to do with your life? I don't think this is your idea of justice; you're not a violent person.' He hesitated before continuing, allowing her to consider what he said.
"I don't think you're THRUSH material. But you might be UNCLE material, if you leave with us now and don't look back.." There, it was his best shot.
The girl looked around, fear leaking out from the veneer of strength she had tried to maintain.
"All right. Okay, yes… I will help you. But can you promise me that UNCLE will take me in, protect me? Will you?" Her eyes were imploring, her tone desperate.
"Yes. I promise, and I always keep my promises."
The deal was struck, and as the three scurried across the lawn and into the trees beyond, Dr. Dabree watched with calm approval.
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Date: 2016-08-29 08:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-08-30 07:38 am (UTC)