"In the nick of time, again" for The Short Affair Challenge 9/16/19

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Challenge: The Short Affair

-Prompt Word 1 - Choke

-Prompt Word 2 – Fan

-Prompt Colour – Blue

Author: mrua7

Title: ‘In the nick of time, again.’

Word count: Approx. 780

It was a bright sunny day, with not a cloud in the vivid blue sky. Water lapped against the sandy shore giving one the impression that all was peaceful, though not quiet.

You could hear the sound of grunts as seagulls called in the distance, not from the birds but from Illya Kuryakin as he was in a struggle for his life.

He’d gone down to the beach just to take in the view. It wasn’t often possible while he and Napoleon were on assignment and now seemed like an opportune moment to do so.

While Solo was in their car speaking to headquarters, Illya removed his shoes and walked down the sand to the water’s edge. He and Solo had just finished up clearing out a satrapy just down the strand...

Seconds later he was caught in a choke hold, his face turning blue as someone hung on behind him.  He grimaced as he struggled to free himself from this adversary who’d come out of nowhere and was unable to call out for help; he could barely breathe.

Letting himself go limp caught the man off guard and Illya took that split second of surprise to drop to his knees, giving him enough leverage to flip the man over and free himself of his grip.

As the Russian gasped for air he had the wherewithal to karate chop him in the throat, and fell forward to his hands as he watched the man die.

It was a man he thought he’d dispatched already at the satrapy, but apparently not. He was bleeding from the wound where Kuryakin’s bullet had found its mark.

Illya couldn’t catch his breath and collapsed forward in the sand.

As his eyes fluttered open, he squinted at the brightness from the sunlight.

“You okay tovarisch?” Napoleon was trying to fan him with a folded newspaper.

“I am now, apparently our friend did not take kindly to me shooting him and he decided to come back to choke the life out of me. I must remember to be more accurate next time I am forced to shoot someone.”

Napoleon smiled as he helped his partner to his feet. “Yes, you do that. How about you get in the car and out of the sun? You’re turning a little pink.”

“I am not tetched by the sun if that is what you are thinking. I am red because that man just tried to choke me,” Illya wrenched himself free of Solo’s grip. “I am perfectly capable of walking on my own.”

Illya’s eyes rolled back and he collapsed in the sand.

When he woke again he was in a hospital bed and Napoleon was seated in a chair beside him, as usual. It was a custom of field agents to sit vigil beside a wounded partner. It was for that reason Solo did it, but more so because Illya Kuryakin was his friend.

In their line of work there was always the possibility that one of both of them could be killed. It was something an agent just didn’t really think about, though there were a number of occasions the fatalistic Russian would utter the words, ‘ think I am going to die.’ He’d say goodbye to Solo, who would dive in to the rescue and save him.

Sometimes it was Illya’s turn to do the rescuing, but inevitably there would come a day when the cavalry wouldn’t arrive in the nick of time.

“Hey there, how you feeling tovarisch?”

“Uncomfortable, and sticky,” Illya reached to his face, feeling some sort of unguent on his skin.

“You have a pretty bad sunburn, if I hadn’t come along when I did you might have gotten heat stroke.”

“How long was I in the sun?”

“By the time I was finished speaking to Mister Waverly, it was at least thirty minutes, give or take a few.”

“You spoke to him that long, or was there a little side action going on with one of the ladies in Communications?” Illya tried to smirk, but it hurt.

“Scout’s honor, no.”

“What is the saying... ‘If I believe that, you have a bridge in Brooklyn to sell to me?”

Napoleon scrunched up his face, knowing he’d been caught.  “Nice historical idiom usage.”

Illya harrumphed his reply as he folded his arms across his chest.

“There was a body there beside me...I did not imagine that did I, Napoleon?”

“It there was, cleanup told me you killed him with a blow to the throat, though he would have died soon enough from his gunshot wound.”

“Oh. I was wondering how I bested him so easily considering he was quite bigger than me.”

“Umm, don’t sell yourself short partner,” Napoleon snickered.

“Must you?”

“Always,” Solo smiled.

Comments

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

I'm sure this happened sometime. That about the cavalry not arriving was a good touch.

(Is grunts the right word?)

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank goodness the cavalry arrives, be it Napoleon or Illya et. al. Grunts were coming from Illya, not the birds. lol!

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

Poor Illya, getting the worst of it again. Great story, with wonderful banter :-)

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thanks cuz! I wasn't quite sure about this one. I think IK is overdue for a break....not that it's Napoleon's turn. Maybe an assignment or two without any owies. "D