The Congo Affair chapter four~ "Passing time"

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link to chapter 3: http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/258843.html

                                 


Illya lay in his hammock, listening to the sounds of the jungle, and not letting the night songs of the frogs make him drift off. Now and again there was the howl of a monkey, but suddenly the jungle grew ominously silent.

He sat up, his senses on overdrive when he heard the low rumbling growl of a big cat. Illya held out his gun, listening carefully. It was walking close by, but he daren't wake Napoleon, as his voice would make the predator aware of them. He listened as it walked slowly beneath them, but settled back down, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as the sounds of the beast faded away into the distance.

It reminded him of the time he'd been tied up below a stand in India, left there as bait for a tiger...if it had not been for that air headed woman whose name escaped him at the moment, rescuing him, he would have become a meal for sure. "What was her name?" He rubbed his temple, feeling a slight headache.

"Come on Kuryakin?" Suzanne, that was it, Suzanne de Serre, a French botanist, though she came across as a bit of a snob to him.
Still she saved his life and that had softened his opinion of her at the time. Napoleon was, of course thinking with his libido, and it was one of the few times Illya became angered with his partner, as the American had taken a dismissive attitude towards him, it seemed due to Suzanne's presence...*

Illya sighed again, that was the past and needed to be put aside; he and Napoleon were both becoming testy and he was fighting those feelings, but being tired and hungry and just a little paranoid made that hard to do.

His ears were keeping a sharp guard on the sounds around them, it was too dark to really see anything, but still he let his mind drift to keep himself awake, anything from mathematical equations to poetry...and then it started to rain. He watched Napoleon roll over to his side, still asleep but resting his arm over his face to protect it from the rain.

There was nothing to shield them against it, and the two men were simply drenched, it wouldn't be the first time, nor the last. The rain at least made Illya feel a little cooler for the moment as the rivulets of water drench his hair and ran down his face. He blew away a drop of rain that had settled on the tip of his nose and swatted at a bug buzzing past his ear.

To pass the time, the Russian silently whispered a Rudyard Kipling poem to himself, one of the more famous ones...as it suddenly dawned on him how appropriate it was to their current situation."

"If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise."

"If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools;"

Illys found himself unable to recall the rest of it, and that he found disturbing. He had an eidetic memory and could remember anything he'd read ever since he was a child. Hehad begun losing weight because of his metabolism and the lack of food, was no doubt affecting his ability to recall things.

Suddenly the rest of the poem came to him, making him smile as he continued to whisper it aloud.

"If you can make one heap of all your winnings... And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss," he paused, faltering for a second... "And lose, and start again at your beginnings.

"And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

"If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!"

It was an uplifting verse, and one that helped counter his feelings of doom, and for a moment, he thought of his father Nicholaí, who'd taught him so much about survival when he was but a young child, and that made him smile. His confidence level felt stronger, just thinking of his papa. Perhaps they would make it out alive after all. He looked at his watch again, shocked that time had passed so quickly.

"Napoleon," he raised his voice, "it is time to wake up."

Solo took a deep breath, rubbing his face, giving himself a disgruntled look at being soaked. "I'm up, you all right pal."

"As best as can be expected under the circumstances. Now leave me be, I need my beauty rest," the Russian joked.

"You'll need to sleep for a year to take care of that," Napoleon retorted, as he drew his Special and rested it on his chest.

"Ha ha." Those were the last words Illya said, as he fell asleep as soon as he closed his eyes.

Solo settled in, trying to think of anything to keep himself awake; he could hear Illya snoring, louder than usual, most likely due to how tired he was. He knew his friend wasn't doing well, between the heat, and lack of nourishment and proper rest, it was all taking its toll on him. Hell it was taking it's toll on both of them...

Napoleon started naming the lists of women in his little black book, and the memories associated with them, all bringing a satisfied smile to his lips. It was a surprisingly long list and it took him right through to sunrise.

He tried not to think about the odds of them actually making it out alive. They'd survived so many times before, but not in a situation quite like this. They were so cut off and alone. Napoleon was concerned about his partner, but still the optimist in him said Illya could do it. The Russian though skinny and small, was feisty and had the inner strength...sort of the heart of a giant.

Solo had no doubt that between the two of them, they'd make it out and live to tell the tale...they had to. They couldn't be meant to leave this world this way...

The jungle was beginning to awaken, with howler monkeys calling out loudly to each other and announcing the dawn, along with a multitude of birds and other creatures, as well as lots of buzzing mosquitos.

"Come on Illya," Napoleon called, slapping a mosquito that had landed on his neck. "time to rise and shine Mister personality."

.

* ref "The Tigers are coming Affair" Season 2 episode 8

Comments

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

At this point their getting stressed out, over tired and hungry and need to divert their thoughts from the predicament their in, so it made sense to have Illya think literary, and Napoleon think literally...chuckle. Thanks for reading and commenting!