THE SEARCH ... non-challenge (very short) story.

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

The room was eerily quiet, as though the walls and ceiling had absorbed every sound, every vibration that might register life.  Illya Kuryakin had been called here by his partner, but now he suspected foul play.  Napoleon might be in jeopardy; correction, was no doubt in jeopardy.

The night was almost without illumination, a heavy cloud cover was keeping the moon and stars in hiding.  A blue hue cast its effect over the empty room, coloring Illya’s appearance as though caught in a photographer’s filtered lens. As he walked across the floor he thought he detected footprints, a phosphoric green impression that now led him to the far right corner where a door interrupted the lines of the wall with a baroque style unsuited to the surroundings.

Illya felt his stomach lurch at the prospect of going through that door.  It was incongruous to the room’s minimalistic design; a modern interior devoid of frills or personality.  Except for the door.  It stood like a monolith on a stark landscape of indistinguishable shapes, all of it colored by the blueish haze.

As Illya made his way to the door he thought he heard something.  It was a wailing sound, like a soul in torment.  Could that be Napoleon? What had drawn his partner to this place? Or was it a kidnapping, something engineered by an enemy?  The answers seemed to be behind that door.

Each step took him closer until at last he stood with his hand outstretched,  but finding nothing that would allow him to open the door.  He was confused, frustrated that the only passage out of this room was now seemingly impenetrable.  He set his shoulder to it, pushing until it seemed his bones might crack under the pressure of it. It was exhausting, infuriating.

It was not his nature to give up, but Illya was sinking to the floor, all hope now vanishing as he surrendered to his fate.  Where was Napoleon? Where was the U.N.C.L.E. now that he needed it? How had the former optimism of living his life in freedom been supplanted by feelings of betrayal and dismay? Was he utterly alone?

Illya Kuryakin awoke from the dream with a shudder.  Once again he had walked across that room in the blue shadows of despair, only to wake up to the reality that his friend and partner had left the Command to seek out a different kind of life; a life that Illya could not fathom. And then the betrayal of that same entity to which he had sworn his loyalty all of those years ago.  The debacle in Yugoslavia and the absence of any sense of wrong doing by those who had allowed it still haunted him after all of this time.

Illya got out of bed and shook off the effects of the dream.  He was on his own now, no longer shackled with the responsibility of saving the world.  He would make his own way, establish his own path to a life he could control, or at least not be controlled by others.

Still, he hoped he might see his friend again.

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I'll admit to having a thing for the Return Movie. I've written several entries in a series called The House of Vanya Years

This follows that premise.

Comments

[jkkitty.livejournal.com]

Dreaming and the meaning? He was alone and even the dream showed him, he needed to do it another way. Very nice