Picfic Tuesday - 9/24 - The Kindness Of Others

[avrovulcan.livejournal.com]

Napoleon and Illya slipped quietly through the streets of a rural German hamlet. They needed somewhere safe to hide until they could be retrieved at the pre-arranged rendezvous the following morning.

Solo and Kuryakin were having to avoid the local German police; the members of which were affiliated with THRUSH and currently seeking both agents in connection with the destruction of their area satrapy.

They had been sent to capture the two UNCLE men before they could get back to UNCLE's Berlin HQ and reveal the state of the law enforcement in that region.

Napoleon and Illya knew if they were caught, the likelihood of escaping intact was slim, but they were struggling to find a suitable place to hide amongst the winding streets of the village.

"This is hopeless, I think we would stand more of a chance in the forest," Illya suggested.

"I think you may be right, but the problem is getting there; we'd make great targets crossing the fields to reach it."

"If only our communicators would work, we could have called in the helicopter earlier."

"Hmm, they must have a jamming umbrella , trouble is we don't know how far it extends," Solo sighed as he leaned against a rough stone wall.

They froze and held their breaths as voices could be heard nearby. Illya, nearest the edge of the wall, cautiously peered around the corner. A German policeman, his back to the agents, had stopped an elderly woman and was questioning her.

"Alte Frau, warum bist du aus? (Old woman, why are you out?)"

"Was ist das für Sie? (What is it to you?)"

"Antworte mir! (Answer me!)" The man lifted his hand to strike her, but she stood firm.

"Wenn Sie wissen müssen, ist mein Freund krank und ich nahm sie etwas zu essen, (If you must know, my friend is sick and I took her some food,)" she said defiantly.

"Haben Sie Fremden hier zu sehen? (Have you seen strangers here?)"

"Huh! Außer Ihnen ist das? Sie sind hier nicht willkommen. (Huh! Apart from you is that? You are not welcome here.)"

"I guess she hates them as much as we do." Napoleon whispered as he, too, poked his head around the wall.

"Genug der Unverschämtheit! Antworte mir. (Enough of your insolence! Answer me.)"

Kuryakin bristled as he watched the German again raise his hand to strike the lady, she narrowed her eyes, glanced over the mans shoulder and looked directly into Illya's eyes. The Russian held his breath hoping she wouldn't give them away, but deep down, after witnessing the exchange so far, he had a feeling she wouldn't; especially as she gave him the slightest wink before replying.

"Eine dunkle und eine blond? (A dark  and blond one?)"

"Ja, wo? (Yes where?)"

She pointed the policeman in the opposite direction, away from the agents, "Sie gingen diesen Weg, in Richtung Wald. (They went that way, towards the forest.)"

"Ich schlage vor, Sie wieder zu Hause. (I suggest you get back home.)"

"Wie Sie sich interessieren. (Like you care.)"

She walked along the street, glancing once or twice to see if the man continued in the direction she'd indicated, before rounding the corner to Solo and Kuryakin.

"It is you zey want?" She asked the agents. "No, do not anzer, just hurry, hurry, dis vay."

Napoleon looked over at Illya, eyebrow raised - should they trust this woman?

Illya shrugged, but going with his gut feeling, he nodded.

The old lady, stopped, turning back to the two men, motioning them to follow her, "come, come, quickly, I help you."

They jogged up to the woman and she led them down two more streets before stopping at a small cottage near the edge of the village.

"In, in, you vill be safe here."

They stepped through the doorway and into a small living area, an alcove to the left housed a small kitchen, a door was set in the wall adjacent to the cooking area. A heavy curtain was to their right;  separating the sleeping area from the main room.

A pot sat simmering on the stove, the aroma of chicken broth filling the small area.

"Mmm, something smells delicious," Napoleon smiled.

"You must be hungry, ja?"

A rumble from the direction of Illya's belly answered that question and all three laughed.

"Forgive me, I am Maria, I listen English good, but not speak well, you speak deutsch?"

"Ja, wir werden in Deutsch für Sie sprechen. Ich bin Illya und dies ist mein Freund Napoleon. (yes, we will speak in german for you. I am Illya and this is my friend Napoleon," Illya said kindly.

Three wooden bowls were brought from their cupboard and the old woman ladled generous portions of the soup into each.

They all tucked into the chicken broth, made filling with carrots,cabbage and noodles.

"If you don't mind my asking, why are you helping us?" Napoleon asked in German.

"I do not like the Landespolizei here, none of us do, they make life difficult for us. They are not like the ones we used to have many years ago. They seem to hunt people, especially strangers, and we don't know why. My husband used to help the ones that were being chased. Since his death, I continue what he started," she answered in her native language.

Illya's bowl was soon empty, smiling Maria asked if he wanted more.

"Only if you can spare it, I do not want to leave you with too little."

"I have more than enough. I made plenty because I knew there were people who needed my help."

"We don't want to get you into trouble. It will be bad for you if they find us here," Napoleon said.

"Do not worry, they have been here already and will not return for several more hours, if at all. Anyway, I have a hiding place for you, they will not find you there. You will be safe until you can reach help."

"We have a rendezvous set for tomorrow morning," Illya told the woman.

"Then you must stay, a good nights rest will be good for you."

"Then we accept your very kind hospitality," Solo smiled.

Maria leaned over to Illya and, smiling, whispered, "Your friend's German accent is bad."

"If you think that's bad, you should hear his French," Illya laughed.

"Hey, I heard that," Solo replied, laughing along with them.

The trio finished their meal, nicely rounded off with a slice of strudel, a light pastry filled with wild berries that had been picked nearby.

Soon the pots had all been washed and put away and the two agents felt the days events catching up to them as tiredness set in.

The old woman rolled back a portion of the large rug covering the floor and after pressing several areas of the floorboards a snick was heard and a section of the floor became loose, revealing a comfortable chamber below, complete with bed, blankets, fruit and water.

"My husbands handy work, the boards have to be pressed in the correct pattern before the catch will release."

Solo and Kuryakin were impressed at the skill used in creating such a perfectly concealed hiding place, the joins invisible until the mechanism was activated.

"Thank you, we really appreciate this," Napoleon said.

"It can be opened from the inside, just press the panel here," she pointed to a small square of wood to the side of the entrance, "good night, I hope you sleep well."

Once settled, sleep well they did, early the next morning they felt refreshed, the Landespolizei never disturbed the night and the hidey hole was never put to the test on this occasion, though the lady had assured them it had been used to conceal people many times and it had not yet been discovered.

They wished Maria farewell, both hugged her with gratitude for the risk she had put herself into in protecting them.

They made their way to the rendezvous, chased a short distance by the THRUSH goons sent to hunt them, but finally made it into the waiting helicopter.

Safely on their way back to Berlin HQ, the two New York agents could relax, Napoleon and Illya were silent for a while, contemplating the events of the last few days. It was the American who broke the silence.

"It always amazes me the places we find help."

"It is true; no matter where we are, there is very often someone who is willing to help us."

"The kindness of strangers."

"Da, my friend, and may it never end."

"It would be a very sad world if it did."

"Yes, it would."

Comments

[jkkitty.livejournal.com]

The kindness of strangers, that's what makes the world go round.

[avrovulcan.livejournal.com]

It certainly does! Thanks for commenting.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

This was fantastic and you really captured the characters beautifully! Maria's comment, as well as Illya's on poor Napoleon's accent were too perfect and made me laugh out loud. Well done my dear. Excellent take on the prompt! "D

[avrovulcan.livejournal.com]

Thank you, glad you liked it. I just had to put in a comment about Napoleon's accent, too good to resist! :D

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Yes, I know what you mean. Maria saying it to Illya made it even funnier. Poor Napoleon.

[injj.livejournal.com]

"Your friend's German accent is bad."

Moah, that was good:))))

[carabele.livejournal.com]

Awww... why does everyone pick on Napoleon's accent when speaking other languages. His Italian at least was excellent.

[avrovulcan.livejournal.com]

He, he, thanks for commenting. ;)

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

Thanks for sharing this very canon slice of affair. I agree with the others about the well thought and well done theme.

[avrovulcan.livejournal.com]

Glad you liked it. Thank you for commenting.

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

What a terrific interlude, something that would have filmed well. Maybe Maria can get a part time gig working for UNCLE.

[avrovulcan.livejournal.com]

Maria is a kind hearted woman, she would fit in well with UNCLE, maybe she might appear in the future. Thank you for commenting.

[carabele.livejournal.com]

Yes, without the kindess of strangers, the world would indeed be a very sad place.

Reminded of this especially today after hearing on the news last night of that good samaritan in NY who stepped in when a obviously mentally unbalanced man started slashing people (including an infant) with scissors. He actually got the slasher down on the ground and kicked the scissors away, then held him down till the police arrived. Brave guy! And he saved the lives of those 5 people who were being attacked.

[avrovulcan.livejournal.com]

So very true.

What a very brave person, not many people would have tried to help.