To See the Light
"Friendship needs no words – it is solitude delivered from the anguish of loneliness." ~Dag Hammarskjold
Napoleon couldn't even hazard a guess how long he'd been in the dark covered pit. Hours? Days? Weeks? He had no way of knowing, He did know that he was drugged periodically and he knew he was out for long enough at a time for his hair and nails to stay trimmed. He could also feel the places on his arms where IVs had been inserted - presumably to keep him fed and hydrated as he hadn't been given anything to eat or drink since his capture.
He couldn't remember much of what had happened. He and Illya had been ambushed. That he remembered. They had been backed against the edge of a drop . . . the rest, he didn't really want to remember, but the image was seared into his brain. There had been a shot and Illya had staggered back - and gone over the edge. Even as he had reached out for the desperately flailing hand, another shot had taken him down.
Consciousness hadn't returned until he was here - wherever 'here' happened to be. The THRUSH chief and his agents must have been right outside of the pit because he was able to hear them quite plainly.
"Idiots. How could you get the orders so totally wrong? You were supposed to kill Solo and bring us Kuryakin."
"It couldn't be helped! We didn't know that he was so close to the edge that he'd go over when the tranquilizer round took effect."
"At least you were bright enough not to go ahead and kill Solo after losing the Russian. Keep him isolated and alive until we receive word from THRUSH Central on what to do with him."
Those had been the last clear words that he'd heard. Since then, only unintelligible murmurs and the periodic hiss that told him the gas had been released to put him to sleep once again. He wondered how many times they could do that do him before it started to have a permanent effect on his body. His very soul felt leaden - it was hard to work up the energy to care.
A new noise entered his world suddenly. The cover was being moved away from the top of the pit. Even though the light coming through was dim, it was still more light than Napoleon had seen in quite some time. It took several blinks before his vision cleared enough to see a hand extended down. The effort was nearly beyond Napoleon's strength, but he managed to get his own hand up to the other and felt the grip tighten.
On reaching the top, he might have fallen back into the pit again if not for the strong hands keeping him steady. A shiver ran through him and a second of disbelief - but there was no mistaking those blue eyes and the blond hair. Illya had survived. Illya had found him.
The relief was equally evident in his partner's eyes at finding Napoleon somewhat wasted, but very much alive. No words were exchanged - no words were needed. Illya pulled Napoleon close and then silently offered him two things. A wry smile - and a weapon.
Returning the smile and claiming the weapon, Napoleon prepared himself to follow his partner out to freedom.
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