The Shards of Our Past Affair, 5/? (Non-Challenge fic)

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

An assignment to Switzerland, complete with a ghost.


By Lucky_Ladybug

Scene Five

Both to Illya's surprise and relief, Mr. Ecks stayed scarce during the next hours. Illya didn't see him at all on the flight—although he heard several people complaining of an odd chill in First Class and had to sigh knowingly to himself.

Napoleon still wondered what was going on with Illya, but he wisely hadn't asked, realizing it was a matter that should be discussed more in private and not while many people were all around them on a plane. He also didn't ask when they landed in Switzerland and were taken to the hotel. Instead he set his luggage down in their suite and called Mr. Waverly to let him know they had arrived. Then, since there was nothing they could do until they made contact with their informant sometime later, he opted to take a shower.

Illya sighed, idly wandering around the suite and over to the glass balcony doors. When a figure suddenly materialized on the other side of the glass, looking in at him, he jumped back. "I wondered if you had stayed behind in First Class," he said sarcastically.

"Not me," Ecks replied. He phased through the door. "I wanted to see how good I still was at being a spy on the flight and if I could fool you by hiding."

"You might have gotten away with it if you hadn't created a cold spot," Illya grunted.

"I'm surprised they felt anything at all," Ecks said. "I wonder if I like or dislike that they did."

Illya could see he was troubled. "Cold spots are supposedly one of the classic signs of a ghost present," he said. "That would indicate that now I am not the only one aware of you."

"Yes, but does that mean I'm growing more accustomed to being dead?" Ecks started to pace. "I don't want to be dead, Kuryakin! I want to live!"

"It's a little late for that now," Illya retorted. "Perhaps those feelings are even what's binding you to this plane instead of it being some unconscious guilt of mine." He paused. "You say that your senses have all been enhanced. Do you honestly believe that would happen if death is nothing more than oblivion?"

"It doesn't sound logical," Ecks slowly agreed. "But Wye would say that life is hardly ever logical. Why should death be any different?"

"A very cynical sort, your Mr. Wye," said Illya. "Not that I disagree with him on that matter."

Ecks stopped pacing near where Illya was standing. "I had more of those bizarre sleeping spells on the plane." He shuddered. "Twice I dozed off and had that same sensation of lying flat on something soft, even though I wasn't."

Illya frowned. "Do you have any other sensations when that happens?"

"Yes," Ecks admitted. "It feels as though something is pulling on me, calling me to come. Maybe that's the spirit come to collect, as you were saying. Only it still isn't working. I don't know how to answer the call."

"Have you tried letting yourself go?" Illya asked. "Or do you always just fight to wake up?"

"I've tried both. But as you can see, I'm still here." Ecks turned to look at him. "Can you tell me why, Kuryakin? Can you explain why neither approach does anything to make me leave?"

"No, I cannot." Illya walked past him, carrying his suitcase to one of the bedrooms. "Considering both my lack of experience and belief, I do not even wish to try. It would seem that whatever is binding you here is stronger than even this pull on your spirit. And to be perfectly honest, that is rather disturbing."

"Yes, it is," Ecks agreed as he followed Illya as far as the doorway. "I don't like this, Kuryakin. I want to go to Wye. Why would I resist the pull?"

"I cannot imagine." Illya hauled his suitcase onto the bed and unlocked it. "In any case, I will need to leave soon to begin our assignment. Why don't you try going to a church and see if the priest can see or hear you?"

"I tried that when I got off the plane," Ecks muttered. "It didn't work."

"Then I suppose you're planning to follow Napoleon and me around," Illya said in resigned irritation.

"I still don't want to let you out of my sight for more than a few minutes," Ecks said. "Somehow you have to be the key to what's stalling me here!"

"Which isn't a pleasant thought," Illya scowled. "Or a sensible one. I can't be binding you here. I wouldn't do that, even unconsciously!"

"Is that terribly sensible, to think that you would know what your unconscious mind would do?" Ecks retorted.

"I could ask you the same question," Illya smoothly replied.

"Illya?"

Both men jumped at the sound of Napoleon's voice coming from the general direction of the bathroom. Then, steeling himself against whatever possible questions might be forthcoming now, Illya drew a deep breath and left the bedroom to find him. "Yes, Napoleon?"

Napoleon was leaning half-out the door, his hair dripping wet. "Did our informant call?"

"No," Illya said, even as he realized with a sinking stomach why Napoleon was likely asking right now.

"Oh." Napoleon frowned. "I thought I heard talking."

"Most likely from the next suite," Illya said without skipping a beat.

"Hmm. Perhaps. For the price of a room, the walls shouldn't be paper-thin here." Napoleon vanished back into the bathroom to get dressed.

Illya sighed, slumping against the wall and staring at the ceiling. "You had better not talk to me if you insist on coming with us," he quietly scolded. "I cannot afford to have anything happen that could make it look as though I've lost my mind. Our informant might change his mind about talking to us."

"I'll be good," Ecks said as he leaned on the wall with an elbow. "I'll be very good. But I still say it would be more logical to tell Solo what's going on. Haven't you ever thought about the irony that you've been having deeper conversations with me, your enemy, than you usually have with your partner?"

"It has occurred to me. If this persists for much longer, I likely shall tell Napoleon," Illya wearily said.
****
Ecks kept his word. He was again scarce when Napoleon and Illya set out for their meeting, only now and then making a rhetorical comment on the mission or the city before fading into the shadows again. As the mission persisted, Illya only caught glimpses of him once in a while.

The assignment was, of course, the most important thing to Illya, and with Ecks mostly staying out of sight, Illya largely managed to forget about him altogether. But when he got a quiet moment and could stop to think, he did wonder what was happening to his ghostly companion and why.

Apparently something was pulling him in two different directions: whatever wanted him to move on and whatever (or whoever) was causing him to stay. And was Illya the latter? If he was, was his waning attention causing the pull to leave to become more and more prominent?

What if Illya wasn't responsible, as Illya really wanted to believe? Then the only option seemed to be that Ecks himself was causing his lingering. He had admitted he was bitter and angry at Illya for killing him. And he had admitted that he didn't want to be dead. Those seemed like perfectly logical reasons why he could not move on. But were they the reasons?

"Illya?"

He looked up as Napoleon approached the hotel dining room table where Illya had been sitting and thinking. "Oh. Hello, Napoleon." He glanced around for Ecks, but as before, he was absent. Normally he would come out when Illya was alone, so perhaps it was one of those periods where he simply wasn't there. And was . . . where?

Napoleon slid into the seat across from him. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Illya gave a weary sigh. He was still unsure that he wanted to say he was being haunted, but by this point he didn't feel like entirely brushing the matter off, either. "What do you think will happen to us when we die?" he asked, pushing an unused napkin around the table with his finger.

Napoleon raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I think you already know that I believe in the traditional ideas of Heaven and Hell."

"What about Limbo? Being stranded on Earth? An in-between place?"

"I . . . don't know that I've ever put much stock in Limbo." Napoleon frowned. "Or are you talking about ghosts?"

"I'm talking about spies who have lost their usefulness." Illya looked up at him. "What happens to people like us? Will we move on to Heaven or Hell or whatever there is? Or will we linger on Earth because we cannot accept that our time here is over?"

"I've never thought about that, either," Napoleon admitted. "I suppose I assumed that we would be glad to be at rest, free of the cares of the world."

"But would we?" Illya crossed his arms on the table and leaned forward. "Many common ghost stories seem to revolve around the idea that the ghosts are people who, for one reason or another, cannot move on or accept their deaths. Some of them don't want to, while others seem to be emotionally incapable of it."

"Illya, I . . . don't know what to say. I guess it's possible that there would be people who wouldn't want to give up their mortal lives or occupations, including some spies." Napoleon peered at him in concern. "What makes you think about things like this now?"

Illya sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I assumed all U.N.C.L.E. agents think about death. They have to, since the possibility is very real every day that they might not live to see another."

"True. I've just never heard you give voice to thoughts like this before. Usually you either seem to feel that nothing will happen after death or that no one can really know and you'd rather not bother thinking about it."

A shrug. "We wonder as it is what will happen when our time at U.N.C.L.E. is over, if we live to see the end of it. What Bryn Watson said about us in London is true, of course—just like Albert Sully, we are both most alive when death is very near. I do not like the thought of not being able to serve a useful purpose."

"Is that what this is about?" Napoleon's eyes flickered with sudden understanding. "Now that I think of it, you have been behaving strangely ever since that mission."

"That's . . . a large part of it," Illya said honestly.

"And perhaps it's about the dead enemy agent as well?" Napoleon gently prompted.

"Mr. Ecks," Illya supplied, almost without thinking. "Yes, it's also about him. I still wonder what will happen to him."

"I had thoughts like that when I first started out as an agent," Napoleon said. "I suppose I never really stopped; it may be part of the reason why I fully support U.N.C.L.E.'s policies of, in general, granting mercy to the enemy."

"Yet you generally seem to know when they do not deserve it," Illya added.

Napoleon sighed. "Does anyone really know that? Perhaps determining that is a way of playing God. Nevertheless, you're right that I do try to make good judgments on who should receive U.N.C.L.E.'s sleeping darts and who should not."

"I did not regret stabbing Mr. Ecks until you suggested it wasn't necessary." Illya's expression darkened. "I thought I had gotten over it, but instead it has been on my mind a great deal since then."

"It hasn't been that long," Napoleon said. "Perhaps with some more time those thoughts will fade. However, if you learned anything from that incident, I hope that will not fade, but will become part of the way you handle yourself as an agent."

"Maybe it will." Illya hesitated again. "What about his friend Mr. Wye? Do you think they will meet each other again, if there is anything after death?"

"I wouldn't know that, either," Napoleon said. "But when they clearly cared so much about each other, I hope that they would be allowed to stay together."

"And if not, perhaps that would be part of their punishment for what they did."

"Illya . . ." Napoleon regarded his partner in kindness as well as in concern. "I understand your concerns. Believe me, I do. But you're going to drive yourself crazy if you keep thinking about it. Somehow you need to put it behind you and move on."

"Yes, Napoleon, I realize that." Illya looked over his shoulder, where Mr. Ecks had just appeared. "But it isn't so easy."

"No, it isn't," Napoleon agreed. "But I'm here for you if you want to talk about it further."

"Thank you." Illya deliberately looked away from the spectre. "I may."

Napoleon nodded in understanding and started to get up. "I'd better check in with Mr. Waverly and let him know of our progress."

"Go ahead." Illya watched him stand and leave.

Ecks slid into the same seat almost immediately. "You told him?"

"Not about you," Illya grunted. "But yes, I spoke to him about some concerns your presence has brought to my mind."

"Well, that's something." Ecks folded his arms on the table. "I think you'll be a lot happier if you tell him everything."

"Perhaps. It did feel good to reveal some of my innermost thoughts."

Ecks sighed. Even with the sunglasses, he looked sad. "It's been difficult, watching you and Solo on your mission."

"Is that why I haven't seen much of you lately?" Illya asked.

"Oh, I've been here, Kuryakin. Most of the time. But I haven't liked it. It only drives home that it's something I can no longer take part in. You and Solo chasing down informants, having mysterious meetings, planning what to do next to complete your assignments. . . . That used to be me and Wye."

"And what were some of your assignments?" Illya asked with definite dripping sarcasm. "How to break the world instead of trying to save it?"

Ecks whipped off his sunglasses, letting Illya see his annoyed and angry eyes. "Our assignments weren't that different from yours, most of the time. Actually, a lot of them involved clashes with other extremist organizations, such as THRUSH and KAOS." He sneered. "We never got along with them."

"No, I wouldn't think so," Illya grunted. "Every one of those organizations wishes to rule the world. They wouldn't take kindly to other like-minded organizations."

"We actually stopped their plans sometimes," Ecks giggled. "Oh, the stories I could tell you, if I felt like it."

"And if I felt like listening," Illya shot back.

"Anyway, none of that is the point," Ecks said impatiently as he quickly sobered again. "I want to be alive, to be able to use my skills as I always have. I was groomed to be a spy in my childhood. It's the only type of life I've ever known."

"Groomed to be a spy for an extremist organization," Illya inserted.

"Well, I don't wish I was back to that again," Ecks snapped. "I just want to be useful. I'm a spy, Kuryakin, just as you are. That doesn't change because I'm dead. It won't change when you're dead, either."

"I wouldn't think so." Illya looked at him steadily. "But I would hope my afterlife is not as nebulous as yours."

Ecks sneered. "Because you're more deserving of a better one? It will be interesting to find out, won't it."

"Yes, it will." Illya paused. "Are you still feeling the pull to leave?"

"Yes." Ecks sighed. He looked far more beaten-down and resigned than on their other meetings. "It comes and goes. I suppose there's no use resisting it. Maybe I still have been in my mind, even when I think I'm not. Maybe that's why nothing happens despite my trying to accept it."

For some reason, Illya wasn't sure he liked seeing Ecks take such a defeatist attitude. "I don't know what to tell you," he said, inadvertently echoing Napoleon's words. "If we are alike, then we are both fighters. I wouldn't want to give in to a pull of something I didn't want."

"But we should also know when to surrender, don't you think?" Ecks returned.

Illya sighed. "That is a loaded question. Is it the time or surrender or is it not? That is what I cannot tell you."

"When I'm dead, I should move on," Ecks objected.

"To what?" Illya shot back. "If death is oblivion, then I would never cease fighting against it if I had the chance."

"That is what I want to know!" Ecks exclaimed. "What death is. If death is oblivion, then I want to find Wye and drag him back to awareness as I have been dragged. We will exist as wandering spirits if that is the only way to live on after death."

"And if there is something more?"

"Then I want to answer this insistent call and find it." Ecks stood.

"You will find no further answers from me," Illya said.

"I know." And then he was gone, just like that.

Illya slumped back in his chair. Had he seen Ecks for the last time? Had Ecks vanished of his own will this time . . . or was this just like all the prior times and he would be back? And if it was the last time, did Illya really want their encounters to end so abruptly, so mysteriously, and not know the reason why? Ecks held the answers to existing after death. If Illya could actually believe in that and have the hope of seeing his departed loved ones again someday, then Ecks would have done him an immeasurable service by his repeated pestering. Illya would actually be grateful to him despite the fact that Illya still detested him.

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

Illya jumped a mile at Napoleon's voice. "You might be surprised," he half-muttered to himself.

"Well, Mr. Waverly says we're to report back to the rendenvous spot immediately, even though our informant has disappeared. Maybe he will reappear."

"Alright." Illya pushed himself up. "Let's go."

He looked over his shoulder as he followed Napoleon out. Where did you go, Mr. Ecks? Have you found your answers or are you still just as confused? Will you come back?

And will I ever know the answers you are seeking?

Comments

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

Thank you for another chapter of good writing and good reading.

Among other things, I do like Ecks' memories of his 'sleep' and the mention of KAOS. (Not their heaviest burden, I'm sure.) And most quotable is "Haven't you ever thought about the irony that you've been having deeper conversations with me, your enemy, than you usually have with your partner?".

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Yes, LOL. I wrote a silly oneshot once with Ecks and Wye facing off against Siegfried and Shtarker. Such nonsense. And I have definitely pondered on that irony while writing.

Thank you!

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

That one shot does sound intriguing..? After all, with KAOS, silly does go with the territory.

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

I think I posted it on my Tumblr, since it doesn't have Napoleon and Illya in it. I can dig it up if you'd like. I re-read it last night and was still amused by it.

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

I'm afraid my old computer can't seem to access tumblr. If it's not too much trouble to post it on lj of ffnet or AO# I would be interested. But only if it's easy.

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

I don't think I'd dare put it on FF.net or AO3 when Napoleon and Illya aren't in it, but I'd be happy to post it to my journal! I've just done so, and I went ahead and also posted a short thing I wrote a couple weeks ago.

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

Thank you for posting both. The top one was touching, and I was glad to see Bryn flourishing.

And the bottom one is fun, with a good ruse from Ecks. KAOS will just have to compete with all the other evil world takeoverers for network time.

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed both. I was watching a WWII spy movie when I got the idea for the Bryn piece. I am forever amused that while I insist on not writing U.N.C.L.E. as a period piece, the episode that gives me the most inspiration is one of the few times the series was dated.

LOL, KAOS. Such a bunch of weirdos and nutcases. Not that the other organizations aren't, but LOL.