Yet To Come - Short Affair

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Prompts: Faith, Black
Word count: 1008
It's bizarre, and I have no idea how it came to be.
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The trio in Alexander Waverly’s office exchanged looks that were unreadable to the man being interrogated.  He hadn’t counted on being held here in UNCLE Headquarters, no one had warned him that it might come to this.

A slight shifting in his chair seemed to elicit interest from the blond. Handcuffed as he was, it occurred to him that some small smidgeon of sympathy might lead to his advantage here.  He could sense that the one called Kuryakin had experience with discomforting situations, perhaps more so than the other two.

Illya had a weird sensation at the base of his skull. What term was it the youth culture had coined? A strange vibe… yes, strange indeed.  Something about this individual was decidedly unsettling to his sense of well being.

“Sir, you are identified to us as Wendell Black, a member of the rather mysterious group called the Outer Limits … ahhh, Wendell Black, who are you?”  Alexander Waverly was growing weary of this inquiry, of the man at his table and the intrigue involved.  He was not a spy of any organization with which he was familiar, and yet this Outer Limits organization had infiltrated an UNCLE mission, disrupting the entire affair.

Napoleon Solo watched the man, saw that he was interested in Illya for some reason.  What was it, and why was his partner looking annoyed, agitated even?

“Sir, Mister Black... Why did you intercept our agents and steer them away from the intended target?  You completely upended an ongoing operation to … well, you don’t need to know what it was for.  Umm… I… “ Napoleon was confused, he couldn’t remember what it was he had intended to ask the man.  Illya recognized the same disturbance that he was experiencing, as though their thoughts were being somehow … invaded.

“Where are you from? Who do you represent?” Illya was becoming more agitated, angry even.  Something about this fellow was dangerously subversive, and yet he couldn’t identify how.  He glanced at Mister Waverly and saw a similar look of consternation on the Old Man’s face.  What else was there? Recognition?

Finally, with calm and confidence, the man called Black spoke to their questions and concerns.

“You have faith in so many things, in yourselves and your causes.  And yet, none of that prepares you for the unknown.  I am that, what you cannot understand or conceive as real.  We are watching and monitoring what you do, and sometimes we must intervene, as I did concerning your so-called mission.  What you were going to do would have disrupted key elements in the universal continuum, despite what you believed about it.  Your faith in the mission was faulty, destructive even.  I remained behind to explain that to you, so that you would hopefully not make the same mistake again.’ He paused, considering the consequences of revealing too much to these men.  They were indeed among the faithful, that remnant of mankind dedicated to doing good rather than harm.  And yet, in their zeal, much had been at risk with the success of the mission in question.

“Mister Black is not my name, it is my nature.” With that his form morphed into a mist, a blackened image that was seemingly weightless as it rose above the table, then reassembled its peculiar self in the formerly recognizable image of a man.  He stood at the pneumatic doors, utterly unfettered.

“I am here to help you, to inform you.  I cannot tell you everything, but I will say this…”

Napoleon and Illya had jumped up from their chairs, posturing themselves for combat should the need arise to defend Mister Waverly.

“What are you?” Napoleon shouted at the creature, for he was most certainly not a man.

“I am what is coming, my friend. Please believe me when I say that your futures are dependent on wisdom, and restraint.  Alexander, you know that what I say is true.”  He looked then at the Old Man, suddenly enlivened by the encounter with an acquaintance from many years past.

“Gentlemen, please… ‘ Waverly got up from his chair and went towards the one they had called Black.  Napoleon and Illya dared not restrain him, but their hearts beat a little faster at the situation in which they were caught, at the frustration of not being able to do anything about it.

“Are you truly… is it you Noir?”  The other man nodded, a cautious smile creasing his features as he answered to the name he’d been given all of those years ago.

“Yes Alexander, it is I.  You have done so much good here, my old friend.  But you know that what I say is true, and that you must resist the temptation to wield too much power, embolden your ranks by virtue of too much violence.’’  A look of concern came on Waverly’s face.  Had he done that, created as much havoc and violence as those he sought to shut down?

“I will be watchful, ever more so now than before.  May I know what it is that you have prevented?” Alexander wanted to know where he had erred, what lapse of judgement had put the world in danger.

“Well after you all are gone, a leader will arise who can lead the world into a period of peace.  He is destined to take his place, although I do not know the final outcome of his life. Had you succeeded today, he would never have been born.”

“And yet he must be born? Regardless of where his life will lead?”

“The outcome is not my responsibility Alexander, only that it must come.”

Suddenly he was that black vapor once more, and he evaporated through the pneumatic door as it opened in response to his presence.

Waverly looked at the door and then back to his two agents.

“Do not ask me for details, just have faith in what you have heard.  I can vouch for him, if not for the future.”

Napoleon and Illya left the office, no words passed between them for a very long time.