Snapshots~"There's all kinds of luck"

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Gunfire erupted around the two fleeing U.N.C.L.E. agents as they ran down an alleyway, attempting to escape their pursuers.

It was pointless to turn and fire back or even to stop and take a stand as there was little to no cover, the fact they were outnumbered didn’t help either.

“There!” Kuryakin shouted to his partner. “Head for that dumpster!

As Solo half-turned, looking back at the Russian...it happened.

Illya watched in horror as Napoleon’s body contorted; he was hit in the chest by a single shot and crumpled to the pavement.

The Russian dove towards his friend as the bullets continued to zip past him;  Illya turned, firing his Special, taking down two of the Thrushmen who’d foolishly stepped into view to celebrate the downing of Solo.

“Napoleon,”Illya gasped, a bullet tearing into his left shoulder. He fired again, hitting the remaining enemy agent. Kuryakin dropped to the ground, letting his gun fall as he grabbed Solo’s jacket with his hand; trying to pull the man to him.

He couldn’t see any blood, but the bullet hole was directly over his partner’s heart.

“Please do not leave me my friend...not you too.” It was all the Illya could do to hold back his grief.  He cradled Napoleon’s head in his arms, hoping against hope, when he heard a moan.

Napoleon’s eyes slowly opened…

“You okay Illya?” Solo spotted the bloody shoulder wound.

He pulled Napoleon to him in a hug. “Bozhe moy, thought I lost you.”

“The rumors of my demise were highly exaggerated,” Solo quipped, as he freed himself of his partner’s grip and pushed himself up on his elbows.

“Napoleon you are alive!”

“Last time I checked, yes.”

“But I saw you hit...there is a bullet hole right over your heart. How could you survive that?”

Solo reached inside his jacket, pulling out something silver, and handing it to the Russian.

“A flask?” Illya looked at it, seeing a dent where the bullet must have hit. Engraved on the outside in Cyrillic was one word ‘здоровье’...health.

“It was supposed to have been a gift for you,” Napoleon smiled sheepishly.”There’s vodka in it...the kind you like.”

“Me? For what purpose?”

“For no particular reason...just a gift for my best friend, that’s all.”

Illya opened the cap, taking a swig from the flask, and passed it to Solo.

“Smooth,” Napoleon said, taking a mouthful.

“So chum you sort of saved my life again...the flask deflecting the bullet that is.”

“How do you figure that?” Illya gave him a hand up.

“Well it was your flask, and it took the bullet instead of your usual move to step in front of me and take the bullet yourself.”

Illya smiled. “I hardly think that. I would venture a guess it was more likely your famous Solo luck that was responsible...and thank you for my gift by the way.”

Napoleon brushed off his suit, pulling his handkerchief and pouring a bit of the vodka on it, he held it to Illya’s injury. It was more of a flesh wound, and this time he deemed Illya to be the lucky one.

“You know tovarisch, there’s all kinds of luck but I’ll count you as the best luck of all in my life. Now come on, let’s get you back to headquarters and have that shoulder taken care of.

Napoleon pulled his communicator. “Open Channel D- Solo here. We need a cleanup crew…”

Comments

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Wow! Thank you so much. You're making my day! :D