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section7mfu2021-01-23 02:25 pm
pfrye.livejournal.com) wrote in section7mfu2021-01-23 02:25 pm
Entry tags:
Short Affair - The New Guys - Part Four
Sleeve, Penny, Silver
Illya slowly became aware of his surroundings through the muzzy fog of sedation. He could hear the quiet murmur of talking and the squeak of rubber soled shoes. “Medical” his brain concluded. He could sense an oxygen mask on his face and he could feel a chemical burn in his chest. He remembered the attack in the stairwell. Illya tried to open his eyes but they didn’t seem to get the message and remained stubbornly closed.
He tried to raise his hand to the call button that he knew would be attached to the sleeve of his hospital gown but his body just didn’t want to respond to any command his sluggish brain issued. He wanted to go home. Where was Napoleon? He drifted back into sleep.
The next time Illya became aware of his surroundings he knew he wasn’t alone. Still muzzy, sedated and unable to open his eyes he could hear breathing. Napoleon? His mind asked.
“I’m sorry Agent Kuryakin.”
Not Napoleon. His heart rate increased.
“I let my ego get the upper hand. Everyone was egging me on.”
The voice was familiar. He tried to relax.
“I almost ruined my career before it even got started. I’d give every penny I earn between now and when I retired to be able to start over.”
Ah, Illya thought, the new guy. Richfeld?
“I wish you could hear me. I really am sorry for what I did. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know.”
Illya could hear footsteps retreat and a door softly close. He drifted off into sleep.
The next time Illya became aware he was able to open one eye. He silently rejoiced in this improvement. His room was dark except for a low light behind his bed. The muzzy feeling of the drugs in his system seemed to be less prevalent. He turned his head to the right where he knew a recliner was situated expecting to see his partner there. It was empty. Illya sighed, confused that he hadn’t seen his friend at any time. Where was he?
He heard the door softly open and he tried to focus on the dark shape that slipped into his room. Was it Napoleon or a nurse? The figure rushed toward him and Illya could see a flash of silver as the dim light reflected off a raised knife. He tried to twist away from the knife but his body decided not to respond. The report of several shots seemed to echo in the room as the dark figure landed heavily on top of him. The weight of the body caused him to gasp out what little breath he had. He lost consciousness.
***************************************
Napoleon Solo and Eric Richfeld sat across from Mr. Waverly. “Your report gentlemen?”
Nopoleon cleared his throat and started to speak. “I had Mr. Richfeld stand guard in the room next to Illya’s, and I was in the room on the other side. I felt that whoever had tried to kill Illya would make another attempt. I was right. We both saw a figure enter Agent Kuryakin’s room and attempt to stab him. Unfortunately we both entered and shot the figure at the same time. It was Brian Porter. He was killed instantly.”
Mr. Waverly scowled, “So we have no idea why he attempted to kill Mr. Kuryakin?”
“Actually we think we do.” Napoleon answered. “It seems that Porter was not his real last name. It was Kursov, Porter was his mother’s name.”
Eric Richfeld read from a file, “According to Mrs. Porter, Jacob Kursov, her late husband, had been a prisoner of the Chinese during Korea. When he returned home he suffered from battle fatigue and was understandably very anti communist. He became very mentally and physically abusive to her, Brian, and his older brother. Brian and his older brother despite being abused idolized their father. Brian’s older brother died in Vietnam at the hands of the North Vietnamese. His father, committed suicide. Brian took his mother’s last name, ashamed to be of Russian descent.”
Napoleon continued. “We suspect that because Jules Cutter always encouraged the recruits to best Illya’s records as Survival School that perhaps Brian Porter felt he needed to kill his perceived enemy. Illya was everything he and his father hated, Russian and a communist. At least that’s what the psychologists in medical believe.”
Waverly nodded, “But we will never know for certain.”
“No sir. But it’s over.”
“What is the latest on Mr. Kuryakin?”
Napoleon sighed, “The doctors say he’ll be in medical for at least a week or so. I assume he’ll be on light duty for a while before he can return to active duty.”
“Very good gentlemen. I think that until Mr. Kuryakin returns to duty that perhaps Mr. Richfeld should fill in for him as your partner.”
Eric Richfeld looked at the two older men with surprise. “But I’m just out of training!”
Napoleon smiled, “Consider it on the job training until Illya comes back.”
“Yes Sir!”
“That will be all gentlemen.” As the two agents walked out of his office Alexander Waverly picked up a report from medical. Grim faced, he read the report once more.
***************************
Seventeen years later….
Chief Enforcement Agent Richfeld put the last personal item in the box he was packing. He never expected to make it to retirement age. He had decided to leave UNCLE rather than move into administration. Field work was just too hard to give up.
He looked up as the door to his office opened. Illya Kuryakin, head of Section Eight entered. He was still youthful looking, though he had finally packed on a few pounds. His white blond hair was now a darker shade of honey. He looked at Eric and smiled. “I’ve come to escort you to your retirement party.” His voice was rough and husky. Illya had never recovered from the chemical burns to his lungs and had never returned to being an active agent. “Here, I have something for you.” Illya handed Eric a small wrapped package.
Eric tore the wrapping paper off. Inside was a picture frame, in the center was mounted a penny, written under it were the words “Thank you, IK.”
Eric looked at Illya confused. “I don’t get it.”
“You said you would give every penny you earned between then and your retirement date to do it over.”
“You heard me?”
“Yes. I wanted to thank you for being Napoleon’s partner for all the years I couldn't be. I wanted to thank you for always bringing him back. You have no idea how much that meant and means to me.”
“My pleasure Illya.”
“We’re even. However we’d better get to the commissary. Napoleon is hosting your party and we both know how much Number One loves to party.”
Eric laughed, put his arm around the older man’s shoulders. The two friends left the office. The door shut behind them.
Illya slowly became aware of his surroundings through the muzzy fog of sedation. He could hear the quiet murmur of talking and the squeak of rubber soled shoes. “Medical” his brain concluded. He could sense an oxygen mask on his face and he could feel a chemical burn in his chest. He remembered the attack in the stairwell. Illya tried to open his eyes but they didn’t seem to get the message and remained stubbornly closed.
He tried to raise his hand to the call button that he knew would be attached to the sleeve of his hospital gown but his body just didn’t want to respond to any command his sluggish brain issued. He wanted to go home. Where was Napoleon? He drifted back into sleep.
The next time Illya became aware of his surroundings he knew he wasn’t alone. Still muzzy, sedated and unable to open his eyes he could hear breathing. Napoleon? His mind asked.
“I’m sorry Agent Kuryakin.”
Not Napoleon. His heart rate increased.
“I let my ego get the upper hand. Everyone was egging me on.”
The voice was familiar. He tried to relax.
“I almost ruined my career before it even got started. I’d give every penny I earn between now and when I retired to be able to start over.”
Ah, Illya thought, the new guy. Richfeld?
“I wish you could hear me. I really am sorry for what I did. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know.”
Illya could hear footsteps retreat and a door softly close. He drifted off into sleep.
The next time Illya became aware he was able to open one eye. He silently rejoiced in this improvement. His room was dark except for a low light behind his bed. The muzzy feeling of the drugs in his system seemed to be less prevalent. He turned his head to the right where he knew a recliner was situated expecting to see his partner there. It was empty. Illya sighed, confused that he hadn’t seen his friend at any time. Where was he?
He heard the door softly open and he tried to focus on the dark shape that slipped into his room. Was it Napoleon or a nurse? The figure rushed toward him and Illya could see a flash of silver as the dim light reflected off a raised knife. He tried to twist away from the knife but his body decided not to respond. The report of several shots seemed to echo in the room as the dark figure landed heavily on top of him. The weight of the body caused him to gasp out what little breath he had. He lost consciousness.
***************************************
Napoleon Solo and Eric Richfeld sat across from Mr. Waverly. “Your report gentlemen?”
Nopoleon cleared his throat and started to speak. “I had Mr. Richfeld stand guard in the room next to Illya’s, and I was in the room on the other side. I felt that whoever had tried to kill Illya would make another attempt. I was right. We both saw a figure enter Agent Kuryakin’s room and attempt to stab him. Unfortunately we both entered and shot the figure at the same time. It was Brian Porter. He was killed instantly.”
Mr. Waverly scowled, “So we have no idea why he attempted to kill Mr. Kuryakin?”
“Actually we think we do.” Napoleon answered. “It seems that Porter was not his real last name. It was Kursov, Porter was his mother’s name.”
Eric Richfeld read from a file, “According to Mrs. Porter, Jacob Kursov, her late husband, had been a prisoner of the Chinese during Korea. When he returned home he suffered from battle fatigue and was understandably very anti communist. He became very mentally and physically abusive to her, Brian, and his older brother. Brian and his older brother despite being abused idolized their father. Brian’s older brother died in Vietnam at the hands of the North Vietnamese. His father, committed suicide. Brian took his mother’s last name, ashamed to be of Russian descent.”
Napoleon continued. “We suspect that because Jules Cutter always encouraged the recruits to best Illya’s records as Survival School that perhaps Brian Porter felt he needed to kill his perceived enemy. Illya was everything he and his father hated, Russian and a communist. At least that’s what the psychologists in medical believe.”
Waverly nodded, “But we will never know for certain.”
“No sir. But it’s over.”
“What is the latest on Mr. Kuryakin?”
Napoleon sighed, “The doctors say he’ll be in medical for at least a week or so. I assume he’ll be on light duty for a while before he can return to active duty.”
“Very good gentlemen. I think that until Mr. Kuryakin returns to duty that perhaps Mr. Richfeld should fill in for him as your partner.”
Eric Richfeld looked at the two older men with surprise. “But I’m just out of training!”
Napoleon smiled, “Consider it on the job training until Illya comes back.”
“Yes Sir!”
“That will be all gentlemen.” As the two agents walked out of his office Alexander Waverly picked up a report from medical. Grim faced, he read the report once more.
***************************
Seventeen years later….
Chief Enforcement Agent Richfeld put the last personal item in the box he was packing. He never expected to make it to retirement age. He had decided to leave UNCLE rather than move into administration. Field work was just too hard to give up.
He looked up as the door to his office opened. Illya Kuryakin, head of Section Eight entered. He was still youthful looking, though he had finally packed on a few pounds. His white blond hair was now a darker shade of honey. He looked at Eric and smiled. “I’ve come to escort you to your retirement party.” His voice was rough and husky. Illya had never recovered from the chemical burns to his lungs and had never returned to being an active agent. “Here, I have something for you.” Illya handed Eric a small wrapped package.
Eric tore the wrapping paper off. Inside was a picture frame, in the center was mounted a penny, written under it were the words “Thank you, IK.”
Eric looked at Illya confused. “I don’t get it.”
“You said you would give every penny you earned between then and your retirement date to do it over.”
“You heard me?”
“Yes. I wanted to thank you for being Napoleon’s partner for all the years I couldn't be. I wanted to thank you for always bringing him back. You have no idea how much that meant and means to me.”
“My pleasure Illya.”
“We’re even. However we’d better get to the commissary. Napoleon is hosting your party and we both know how much Number One loves to party.”
Eric laughed, put his arm around the older man’s shoulders. The two friends left the office. The door shut behind them.