The Shards of Our Past Affair, 2/? (Non-Challenge fic)

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Talking to a persistent wandering spirit can get very awkward, especially when others start hearing and wondering what's going on....


By Lucky_Ladybug

Scene Two

It was several days before Illya saw Mr. Ecks again. By that time he had all but forgotten the strange ex-spy in the midst of a bizarre case that had dropped on him and Napoleon. The case had involved a good deal of globe-trotting, and now that it was over at last, Illya was back home and placing his dinner on the table.

“I see you’re just about to sit down to eat, Kuryakin.”

Illya stiffened, but didn't turn around at the now-familiar voice. “Had I known you were intending to drop by, I would have prepared something appropriate for you.” Illya’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “What is it spirits eat, anyway?”

“That is top-secret information.” Ecks wasn't facing Illya, but the sneer was clearly audible.

“Well, whatever. I hardly intend to let an encounter with you spoil my appetite.”

“You don’t let anything spoil your appetite.”

“I consider that very wise.” Setting the pot-holder aside, Illya sat down at the table and began to dish up his meal.

Ecks decided to sit across from him. "Were you involved with a case?"

Illya didn't look up. "I was. It's over now."

"I miss the excitement of a case," said Ecks. He folded his arms on the table. "As one spy to another, you surely know how that feels. Tell me about it."

"I would rather not, thank you." Finished with his serving, Illya took up the knife and fork and began to cut the meat and potatoes. Then he paused, a thought occurring to him. "So what happens to you when you're not here?"

Ecks shrugged. "I have no idea. I sink into oblivion then."

Illya took a bite of potato. "I must say, you have the strangest afterlife I've ever heard of."

"Don't think I don't know it," Ecks grunted. "I don't even know where my body is buried."

"I don't even know what happened to it," Illya said flatly. "Someone—Mr. Wye, I assume—spirited it out of the park. You will forgive my terminology."

"Of course," Ecks sneered.

They sat for a moment in silent while Illya ate. Ecks then ventured, "No Solo tonight?"

"Napoleon generally likes to celebrate the end of a case with a date," Illya said. "I preferred to stay home."

"Have you told him about me?"

"No." That came out a lot stronger than Illya had really intended.

"Oh, I see." Ecks leaned back in the chair. "Afraid he'll think you fell off the trolley?"

"We don't confide everything about our personal lives to each other," Illya said stiffly.

"Maybe not, but isn't the idea that if you suspect you might not be functioning at your highest level, you need to warn your partner?"

"By now I am quite willing to believe that you are actually here, as much as it pains me to admit it." Illya finished his portion and went for seconds. "At least it means I am perfectly sane."

"Bravo, Kuryakin!" Ecks leaned forward again. "The lifelong skeptic has been forced to accept that just maybe the paranormal is real."

"Are you saying that you have always been a believer?" Illya grunted, unimpressed.

"I wouldn't say that," Ecks shrugged. "Part of me wanted it to be real, just so that this rubbish life wouldn't be all there is, but it was just an idle hope. And I certainly didn't want this to be real." He gestured at himself. "I could be doing something far more productive."

"And I really wish you would go and do it," Illya said flatly. "Maybe if you concentrate very hard, you could go somewhere else."

"Don't you think I've tried that?" Ecks got up and started to pace around the kitchen. "I want to go to wherever Wye is, but I can't. I'm stuck here with you!" His usual cheeky behavior had faded, giving way to a rare burst of frustration and anger.

Illya fell silent. What would be the reason for a situation like this? Under other circumstances, he really wouldn't care much that an enemy agent was in such a quandary. But when he had been dragged into it as well, he really wished he could help Ecks find a solution.

"I don't know what to do," he said then. "Nor do I know who might know. Perhaps a mambo or a witch doctor."

"And are you willing to risk the damage to your reputation by sending for one and bringing them to your flat?" Ecks asked.

Illya looked hard at him. "If it would get you out of my life, then yes, I think I would be willing."

"I wonder what Solo would think," Ecks quipped.

"I wouldn't necessarily tell him," Illya retorted. "Although I would be more likely to tell him than anyone else I know."

"He might simply find out, since he lives in the same building."

"He wines and dines for as long as he can," Illya pointed out. "Perhaps I can send for someone tonight." He wasn't entirely sure he was kidding.

"Are you really that afraid of him knowing?" Ecks folded his arms. "I wouldn't be ashamed of Wye knowing."

"Are you so certain?" Illya shot back. "What if the situation were truly reversed and you were the one being haunted by my ghost? Would you really want to tell Mr. Wye that one of your victims wouldn't leave you alone?"

"Why not?" Ecks snapped in defiance. "He's the only one who'd actually care about it!"

That gave Illya pause. He and Napoleon really hadn't known each other that long, and they had been friends even less, but Napoleon had certainly risked a lot for him on more than one case. He was trustworthy.

Of course, that wasn't really the issue. They had even shared some serious discussions before, such as when they had first discussed killing Ecks and whether it had been necessary. Napoleon would certainly be interested and concerned by Illya's news. But Illya really wasn't sure he wanted to share it. How would he even approach a subject like that? "Oh, Napoleon, remember that enemy agent I stabbed in London? He showed up in my apartment and now he won't leave me alone."

"Are you saying you actually did tell Mr. Wye everything?" Illya finally said in what he wasn't sure was disbelief or amazement. "I should think you would have been taught that's deadly for an assassin or a spy."

"Of course you always have to be prepared for a double-cross, even from your own partner," Ecks replied. "But Wye never would have betrayed me. You should know it. By your own words, you basically said that Wye died trying to avenge my death." He folded his arms. "We're not taught to do that."

"No," Illya mused. "I'm sure you wouldn't have been."

"What about you, Kuryakin? Do you trust Solo with your life?"

It was strange how eyes could bore into one's soul even when covered by shades. "Of course I do," Illya snapped without hesitation. "That is necessary when working with a partner."

"Then why don't you want to tell him about me?"

"It isn't anything personal," Illya frowned. "I have never confided in anyone. Certainly not on a topic like this."

Ecks actually raised his sunglasses to look at Illya more clearly. "And I thought I was alone being raised by fanatics. I didn't have anyone to confide in until Wye came along, but when he did and we started working together, I knew I could open up to him. You, you've been alone by choice, even when you could have confided in someone. Maybe I was wrong when I said that Wye and I were friends just like you and Solo."

Illya really didn't like this conversation. "I don't need an enemy agent to tell me about myself," he snapped.

"Maybe you simply don't need anyone," Ecks quipped.

Illya scowled. "Napoleon and I are close, in our own way." They each trusted the other with his life. During downtime, they pranked and snarked at each other, but all in good fun. It took a certain type of closeness to engage in those activities, even if Illya wasn't ready to open up about having a ghost in his residence.

"I guess you definitely do have 'your own way.'"

Illya regarded him in mounting irritation. "Here's a question for you. You say that you always confided in Mr. Wye. Do you think he reciprocated?"

Ecks fell back, stunned by the sudden query. "Sometimes he did," he retorted.

"But not all the time," Illya prompted.

". . . No, I don't think so," Ecks admitted. Abruptly defensive, he added, "But he just didn't want to burden me with anything else. He felt I had enough to deal with as it was."

"Oh yes, naturally." Illya's voice dripped with sarcasm. His eyes narrowed as he said, "It doesn't feel very good, does it? Having your precious relationship questioned?"

Ecks flinched. "No, it doesn't."

Suddenly Illya was angry. "You're a self-righteous, judgmental extremist. Your kind are all alike. I don't have to listen to your opinions of me or of my interaction with Napoleon or anyone else!"

Ecks let his sunglasses drop back over his eyes. "Are you sure I'm the one being judgmental, Kuryakin? We both know you've been judging me since the moment you knew of my existence. Maybe you just don't want to think that I could be saying anything of value."

"That is ridiculous," Illya scoffed.

"That I could be saying anything of value or that you don't want to think I can?"

"I am not being judgmental," Illya retorted. "I know what you are and I know how you think. And I'm not about to allow your mind games to torment me!"

"Alright," Ecks said agreeably. "What if I said you're a glowing example of Russia and its absolutes? That you have a very 'If you're not with me, you're against me' attitude that's typical of your country? That you were clearly an asset to Russia and its ideals when you were over there and it's surprising they would even let you run off to join U.N.C.L.E.?"

"I would say you know nothing about me," Illya snapped, "which you do not."

Ecks came over closer. "And you know nothing about me," he said darkly. "I don't appreciate how you think you have me all figured out."

"I suppose I think that as much as you think you know all about Napoleon and me," Illya said coolly.

Ecks' lip curled and he stepped back. "I never said that," he said. "I only wondered why you wouldn't want to confide in Solo. Maybe I think I have you figured out," he sneered, "but I couldn't begin to understand you and Solo."

"And you will never get the chance, if I have anything to say about it!" Illya boomed.

A knock at the door froze them both. "Illya?" came Napoleon's confused voice.

Illya could hear the concerned inflection in his partner's tone. "Napoleon?" He stood and walked through the kitchen and into the living room, hoping his voice sounded calm and normal. "That was a short date, wasn't it?"

"Not all of them involve dancing until dawn." Napoleon turned the knob and found it was locked. "Are you alright in there?"

"Yes, Napoleon. Everything is fine." Illya reached the door and looked back at Ecks, who was smirking at him.

"If everything is fine, whom were you screaming at just now?"

"Ah. I . . ." Illya's gaze darted around the room as he searched for a legitimate excuse. "I became much too involved with the characters in the book I was reading."

Now Ecks had slumped against the wall, silently laughing.

"Really?" Napoleon sounded doubtful. "I've never known you to do that before."

"You rarely see me when I'm reading," Illya truthfully pointed out. "If we're on a case, I make an effort not to become that involved with my book."

"Hmm. I suppose that makes sense. People can become that involved with film or television, so why not books?"

"Exactly," Illya pounced.

"Mind if I ask just what book was so emotionally involving?"

"Crime and Punishment," Illya answered without hesitation, remembering the still-unfinished volume in his living room . . . and what had happened the last time he had tried to read it.

"I see. Perhaps I will have to look into that one." Napoleon paused. "If you're sure you're alright, I'll be moving along now. People are starting to wonder why I'm calling through your door."

"Of course," said Illya. "Yes, everything is fine. Goodnight, Napoleon."

"Goodnight."

Illya listened as the footsteps moved away from the door and traveled up the hall. Then, sighing, he turned away. Napoleon had always been good at reading people, but even if he wasn't, Illya was afraid his performance had been mediocre at best. Mr. Ecks had certainly found it hilarious. Napoleon probably hadn't been fooled for a minute. And what if he had heard more than Illya's final, booming statement? What if he had been listening to Illya's side of the conversation for some time?

Maybe, Illya reflected, he should tell Napoleon the truth. Not saying anything might make that sticky situation even stickier. But at least he had the comfort of knowing that Napoleon wouldn't do something like sending for the little men in the white jackets without talking to Illya again first.

"Well," he said aloud, "I suppose you're having the last laugh tonight."

When there was no response, Illya frowned and focused on the room. The deceased but very restless ex-enemy agent was nowhere to be seen.

Illya let out a heavy and exasperated sigh. "Of course," he muttered. "And how long will it be before you come back to torment me further?"

He trudged back to the kitchen, where the sight of the remaining food lifted his spirits enough that he sat down to dine on thirds. As he ate, he pondered on the bizarre encounters.

Was he the only U.N.C.L.E. agent who had ever experienced something like this? Part of him wanted to know, but not if inquiring into the matter would reveal the truth and make him look crazy. He seriously doubted that any agents who might have been haunted by their victims would have ever wanted to make it known. If they had, they had probably found themselves on psychiatrists' couches or worse. Illya had absolutely no intention of that ever happening to him.

At least, he silently mused, Mr. Ecks had only turned up in the apartment and never at U.N.C.L.E. HQ or worse, on a case.

Hopefully his relief was not premature.

Comments

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

Thank you for another most enjoyable and chapter. Each character is solid as well as interesting. Napoleon, too - love that interruption. The dialogue is good, and ic, in both the lighter and more serious parts.

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much! I always wonder whether Illya sounds IC to engage in childish arguments, but then on the other hand, he certainly pulled some childish pranks on Napoleon in season 1....

I loved having Napoleon inadvertently interrupt. LOL. Illya and Ecks usually have someone to break up their tiffs, but I realized they didn't that time ... and then decided to have it happen anyway.

[katb357.livejournal.com]

Nice! I enjoyed this, even though this is the first one I have read. I will have to check out the others...

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much! I'm glad you were able to enjoy it, especially without having read the other piece(s).

[yumyumpm.livejournal.com]

It's a valid question. Why doesn't he tell Napoleon? Would finding out where Wye was laid to rest help? Not letting Napoleon into his apartment seemed a little strange, but then having a ghost in the room with you might be a little disconcerting.

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

I think the reason why he doesn't tell him is because it is very disconcerting for him, and uncomfortable, to have to be confronted with the truth of something he has not really believed in. He still can't fully accept it and it's hard to think of sharing it with anyone. Also, he and Napoleon aren't as close of friends yet as I think they were by the end of the series.

(And if he does tell Napoleon now, it will contradict a later story where he tells him. LOL.)

Thank you!