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section7mfu
Well isn’t this another fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into Solo? He quickly reminded himself this was all for the sake of finding and rescuing his wayward partner. For a moment he half expected to hear Illya’s voice making some smart remark, but there was nothing.
Labé had apparently taken the Russian prisoner, but this time with the intention of capturing Solo to exact his revenge upon him. When last they met, the UNCLE agent ruined his plans for getting his hands on stolen Nazi treasures and artwork, the location of which was in Illya Kuryakin’s head. Solo saved his partner and thwarted Labé...whose incarceration by Scotland Yard ended up being very short-lived. *
.
Napoleon waited for a few minutes, hesitant to walk away from the shaft as it might be his only source of light. He could hear water trickling nearby and decided to move cautiously towards it; keeping the light within view.
He found it only a few feet away, and scooped some of the refreshing water into his mouth, not even worrying if it might be tainted. If Labé wanted him to die quickly, why bother dumping him down here?
“Illya?” He called out, hearing his voice echo down a cavernous tunnel; the Russian's name repeating several times. “ILLYA?” There was nothing, not a sound at all except for the dripping of the water and the reverberation of his voice.
Should he begin to walk or stay by the light. He could lose himself easily in this place, wandering in endless and utter darkness until he died of...well probably starvation.
Not hearing a sound from the tunnels he decided it wise to stay by the shaft for the moment. Napoleon settled himself on the damp floor. He was exhausted from the shock of his ordeal with Labé. Thinking one was being buried alive was traumatic, to say the least.
He recalled having rescued Illya after being wrapped up as a mummy (for the second time) and placed in a sarcophagus, all part of a bizarre ritual. When he opened the coffin and undid the bandages from the gasping Russians head; Illya sobbed. The fear and his suffocating had done that, thinking he was going to be buried alive in a stone tomb somewhere in the Temple of Isis. ***
Napoleon lay there, leaning his head on his outstretched arm as the light above him began to fade as no doubt the sun was setting. It was then he felt it, something touching his hand, and he jerked it away.
At first he thought it was a rat, but in the dimming light he saw the shape of a hand.
“Who is there?” A weak voiced whispered. Napoleon recognized it instantly.
“Illya? It’s me tovarisch,” he reached out taking hold of his partner’s hand. It was cold, and seemed weak.
He tugged, guiding his partner to him. In the last of the light he saw a ghastly sight. Illya was ghostly white, his eyes darkened with black circles beneath them. It was his gauntness that was startling, as he had lost weight and looked barely to be a hundred pounds. His clothes were filthy and hanging off his body.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes partner mine.”
“Sure I am a sight all right,” Illya’s voice was nearly hoarse.”You would not happen to have any food on you; the service here is terrible and the...rats are hard to come by.”
“Seriously you’ve eaten rat?”
“Not the first time I have had to and will not be the last. I survived off them when I was a child during the war. The taste has not changed, a bit gamey, sort of like wild rabbit even though these ones were raw.”**
“Oh my God Illya you haven’t?”
“Yes I have. You know me and my metabolism. You do what you have to to live sometimes remember? Did I not try to teach you to eat grubs one time.”
“Yeah, I recalled I couldn’t do it...I ate the C-rations from World War I instead,” Napoleon laughed. “Well the after effects weren’t too pleasant so I suppose I should have forced myself to eat the grubs anyway.
“Napoleon, right now what I would give for some grubs.”
“I know buddy, but we’re going to get out of here and once you’re strong enough I’ll treat you to the biggest steak dinner you’ve ever had, and that’s a solemn promise.
“I will hold you to that my friend. In the mean time if I may lean up against you for a little warmth, plus simple human contact would be most welcome.”
“Sure buddy, come on.”
Illya skooched beside his friend and Napoleon instictively wrapped his arm around the man’s shoulders. He felt his partner lay his head down against his chest with a sigh.
“If I die Napoleonl; I am glad it will be with you at my side.”
“You’re not going to die buddy, so knock off that fatalistic attitude. Get some sleep and when it’s daylight...we’re outta here.”
There was no answer, but Napoleon could hear the soft breathing of the Russian. He was asleep, no doubt of exhaustion and the American joined him shortly thereafter.
Napoleon had little shoteye during the night, as Illya was quite talkative in his sleep. It was all in Russian, not much the American could understand and seemed to be just snippets of conversation. It seemed his partner was talking to a cat, then a girl named Irina.**
Solo reminded himself to inquire about that once the Russian was awake.
As the rays of light began to barely shine through the one window in the basement and down through the grate; Napoleon roused himself, and Illya.
‘Come on buddy. Rise and shine buddy, time to go home.”
“Mmmm,” Illya answered but was groggy. “Morning already?”
“Yep, now let’s go take a look at that grate,” Napoleon said.
“It is too far my friend,”Illya coughed, his breath a little raspy.”Trust me I checked. It is not possible for a man to get up there with out the proper tools, of which we have none...am I correct in assuming that?”
“Yes you are, but you said it’s not possible for one man to make it up there. How about two?Illya how wide do you estimate the entrance to be?”
“No more than six feet in circumference.”
“So two men could..”
“Ahhhh, I see what you are thinking, If I stand on your shoulders, I can hike myself up and then work my way along the wall.” Kuryakin smiled for the first time in a very long while.
Illya did exactly that, after climbing up on his partner’s shoulders he wedged his back against one side of the tunnel and his feet against the other; little by little he worked his way up. He paused several times to catch his breath, finding the task especially exhausing in his weakened state. Finally he reached the grate, and after several pushes, he was able shove it up and open.
Though it seemed like a gargantuan task, Illya pulled himself up and onto the basement floor. He remained there for a few minutes, exhausted by the effort.
“You okay tovarisch.”
“Fine.”
“Yeah right. Seriously are you all right?”
Illya huffed,”Under the circumstances, yes. Just give me a moment to catch my breath.” He remained on the floor for a few minutes, and when his head finally stopped spinning, he slowly got to his feet. A quick survey of the room revealed nothing that seemed of use for him to get Napoleon out of the oubliette.
Then he saw it, coiled up and hidden on the lower shelf of the stainless table were heavy cloth straps, leading him to think he and Napoleon were not the first victims held prisoner down here.
He unraveled them, and tying the ends together while adding some periodic knots; he deemed it of sufficient length to lower to Solo and enable him to climb out. If Illya had to pull his partner to safety, he doubted he would have the strength.
“Here, I am sending this down to you,” he called. “You will have to pull yourself up as I do not think I can hold your weight.”
“You saying I’m fat?”
“Please, it not time for any playful banter.”
“Fine, I rescue you and you turn all grumpy on me. Okay, toss it down.”
“Look out below,” Illya called. “Let me tie off the end.” He knotted the other end of the strap to the heavy newell post on the staircase.
He pulled at it a few times, and when satisfied, he called to Napoleon.
Minutes later the American appeared at the opening, grinning from ear to ear but only for a brief second. Seeing Illya in the brighter light was upsetting, as the man looked worse than he first thought.
“Do me a favor partner mine, don’t look in a mirror for awhile.”
“I was not planning on it. Now might we get out of here...I am really, really hungry for that steak you promised me."
“Only you would think of food at a time like this.”
“Fine, I would like to see what you have to say after spending who knows how long in that hell hole. Would you liked to go back there? I think I have enough strenght left to put you there.”
Napoleon chuckled at his partner’s seriousness. “Yeah right, you and whose army. Illya I have a feeling if I just looked twice at you, you’d fall over. Now enough talk, let’s get out of here.”
Solo led as they made their way up the staircase, leading into a darkened hallway. There was no sound or sign of life and when they exited a door, Napoleon recognized where he was.
It was the original showcase room, except this time there were no coffins there. It looked as though the place had been abandoned as one of the pedestals that had held a vase with flowers was knocked over; with pieces of the shattered container and flowers scattered on the floor.
They made it out the door and to Solo’s surprise, his car was still there.
“Come on buddy, we’re almost home free.” He turned to face Illya and watched as the Russian simply crumpled to the ground.
“Oh crap,” Napoleon muttered,” heading immediately to his partner’s side, and scooping him up in his arms. It was then he realized how much weight Illya had lost. He checked the Russian’s pulse and thankfully it was strong enough.
A few seconds later Illya came to.” Sorry, I feel as weak as a kitten.”
“Speaking of kittens...who are Kaska and Irina?”
Illya flashed him that ‘none of your business’ look.
“Fine be that way,” Napoleon jabbed. He quickly laid his partner down in the back of the car. “Now stay put and take it easy.”
Relieved the keys were still in the ignition; Napoleon started it, and spun the car around, heading out along the gravel drive and past the gates, all the while looking in his rearview mirror to see if they were being followed.
Once he was sure no one was behind them, he pulled over. Checking the glove compartment, and breathing a sigh of relief; he found his backup communicator and gun were still there.
“Open channel D-Solo.” He glanced to the back seat, seeing Illya's eyes were open, but looked glazed and distant.
“Yes Mr. Solo,” Waverly responded promptly.” I was beginning to become concerned when you missed your check-in.”
“Ah, yes, sir I was a little tied up, but the good news is that I have found Mr. Kuryakin…”
“Excellent news, though I hear a ‘but’ Mr. Solo.”
“The culprit behind Illya’s disappearance was Labé sir. Apparently he escaped from Scotland yard and well, he attempted to exact revenge against Mr. Kuryakin and myself for foiling his plans.”
“Hmmm, that is most perplexing. I fear we will not be hearing the last of Mr. Labé as I have a communication from him, stating that you and Mr. Kuryakin were his prisoners and if we wished to see you alive and returned to us, then were were to turn over his confiscated artwork. Of couse we told him no.”
“Oh course,” Napoleon smiled. “Sir Mr. Kuryakin is going to need medical attention, food and some good old-fashioned TLC.”
“Yes indeed, I see by your signal that you are in the vicinity of our Washington office. Are you able to make it or should we send a retrieval?”
“No sir, I think Mr. Kuryakin can hang in until we get there.”
“Very well then. I shall expect your report upon arrival. Out.”
Cut and dried as usual, and as always, Napoleon dismissed Waverly’s abruptness. There were only two things on his mind at the moment, one was getting Illya to a hospital and the other was Gairovald Mephisto-Labé..
Once the man became aware they were alive there would be a lot of having to look over their shoulders, well, perhaps more than usual.
At the moment, Napoleon gritted his teeth, figuring he would cross that bridge when he came to it...
* ref PicFic "Stalling for Time"
** ref "Beginnings"
*** ref "See the Pyramids along the Nile Affair"
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Date: 2014-03-04 03:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-04 07:12 pm (UTC)Thanks for commenting and the suggestiong. Depends on the next Picfic as I might be able to make it a continuing story. Glenna and a few other writers have done a few of those and they worked very well. Never tried it myself.
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Date: 2014-03-04 09:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-04 09:29 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2014-03-04 07:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-04 06:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-04 07:14 pm (UTC)Thanks!
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Date: 2014-03-04 07:27 pm (UTC)Turn about's fair play, don't you think. You should let me choose the pictures then :D
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Date: 2014-03-04 08:01 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2014-03-14 08:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-14 09:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-14 10:11 pm (UTC)Hope you're doing okay, I often think about you.
Beth's doing well, we've had a couple of bad times with her, but overall we're having a really good time with her. We're off for a weekend in London for Easter and she's really looking forward to it.
Have found parts 3 & 4 and will read them, hopefully sooner than later. Off to bed now!
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Date: 2014-03-14 10:16 pm (UTC)