It Was A Dark And Stormy Night, Part IV (Conclusion)- PicFic Tuesday 4/8/14

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

It Started HERE
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“Napoleon.  Wake up, Napoleon... Napoleon!”

That did it.  Solo shot up out of his bed, wild-eyed and bushy haired; it was an unusual sight.  Illya was glad he hadn’t needed to use the next weapon in his arsenal of morning alarm duties.

“What’s wrong?  Why are you shouting at me?  Sheesh Kuryakin, I almost...”  One look at the blond stopped him mid-sentence.  Illya was looking at his partner with a quizzical expression on his face.  What had stopped Napoleon was not that expression, however, it was the way his partner was dressed.

“Why are wearing swim trunks?’  That’s when Napoleon really looked around the room.  It was different.  It was ... There was an aquarium as large as a window.

“Where are we?”  Now it was Illya’s turn to really look at his partner.  Last night they had  closed down a THRUSH satrapy in this little island paradise; light duty considering the planning that had preceded it.  Today, while the clean up crew did their jobs, Illya and Napoleon were granted a rare day off, right here on a beach in the Caribbean.

“We are still in St. Lucerne, in the Caribbean.  Have you no memory of the raid last night?’ From the look on Napoleon’s face it was apparent that he did not.

“Napoleon, we flew here directly from Ireland, two days ago.  Mr. Waverly met us there after our last mission.  He was in London, and after the meeting at Stewart Castle he sent us here.”  Still nothing in his eyes indicated that Napoleon had any recollection of it.

“I remember being in Ireland, and Mr. Waverly.  There was a key, and some twins...”  Illya snorted at that.

“Of course you would have women in your scenario.  Napoleon, you had dinner with Dominic Keyes, the THRUSH Chief here on the island.  He must have spiked your wine with the potion he was going on about; odd that you’re just now showing signs of it.”

The room was a shade similar to sand, with pale blue draperies that set off the rattan furniture that was loaded with plump pillows, all the colors of coral and tropical waters.  Napoleon’s head reeled from the sensory information he was taking in.  Where had they been yesterday?  Oh yes, the castle.  In Ireland.  Mr. Waverly had been acting strange, talking about wine... Wine.  They had wine last night.

“It was in the wine?”  Napoleon couldn’t quite grab hold of the memory.

“Yes.  I just told you, you had a glass with Dominic Keyes... Oh, perhaps that is where you are getting the keys you mentioned.  Mr. Waverly met us in Ireland and gave us the background on the satrapy here in St. Lucerne.  Dominic Keyes was the chief here, up until last night.  You went in first to divert his attention from the actual raid.”  Napoleon was remembering it now.

“You led the team.’  Illya nodded.

“So where did I get the twins I wonder?”  Illya smiled again.

“I believe you might be thinking of the two women who accompanied Keyes.  They were, I believe, his bodyguards.”  At that, Napoleon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.  He did not remember that.  Suddenly self-conscious of still being in bed, Solo crawled out from beneath the sheet; he was a little light-headed but other than that, there seemed to be no physical damage.  As he sat on the edge of the bed, the lack of memory nagged at the CEA of UNCLE Northwest.  It was unnerving to be in the dark.

“Okaaaayy... So what exactly did happen last night?  I take it the mission was a success, even though I managed to fall victim to another THRUSH serum.”  Napoleon was perplexed, but somehow relieved that his hallucination of the ‘other’ Mr. Waverly was merely that... a hallucination.

The fish in the aquarium diverted his attention momentarily.  How was that he could remember some of the players, albeit in the wrong roles, and not recall coming to the Caribbean.  Napoleon was missing hours that had been replaced by the strange scene at Stewart Castle.  Mr. Waverly and his mysterious wine cellar, the girls in blue dresses... He shook his head as though to clear it, setting off a stab of pain that nearly caused him to black out.

“Napoleon?  What’s wrong, are you ill?”  The concern in Illya’s voice reflected the real agony that was now overwhelming his partner.

“I... I can’t ...’  Suddenly the room was spinning, his head felt like it was ready to split apart.  With a thud and very little grace, Napoleon fell to the floor in a heap.  Illya was at his side, summoning help via his communicator.

“Open Channel D, Kuryakin here.  Mr. Solo is down, I need some medical assistance in his room.”  He gave a slap to the face of the stricken agent, hoping for a response.  Alexander Waverly’s voice responded.

“Mr. Kuryakin, a medical squad is on the way to your location.  They have been standing by in case of complications.”  That made Illya cringe.

“What sort of complications sir?  What did the labs come up with?”  Samples of the serum, the wine and Solo’s blood had been sent to the portable lab Waverly had ordered to be onsite; he had anticipated the probability of Dominic Keyes using his new concoction on some unsuspecting innocent, or one of his agents.  The old man was unwilling to let anyone die or suffer permanent damage because of the dastardly activities of another THRUSH maniac.  Keyes had bragged enough about his new serum to create a fair warning as far as UNCLE was concerned.

“The lab report indicates the ability of this new compound to create temporary amnesia as well as induce a dream state that is so real, so visceral as to make the subject truly believe he has had the experience that has replaced reality.  Mr. Solo is experiencing the last round of symptoms, the headaches.  Mr. O’Riley, who is heading up the lab team, assures me that their tests indicate it will all subside within the next few hours.”  Waverly let that sink in, understanding the concern of the Russian agent for his partner.

“Very well, sir.  I shall stay here until Mr. Solo comes out of this.’ A knock on the door announced the arrival of Patrick O’Riley, the head of this new portable labs program.  It would be lifesaving in the future to have this team on site as it traveled the world, undergirding the efforts of Section II operatives.  Illya opened the door and stepped back as O’Riley and another technician, Matt Carney stepped into the room with their equipment.

“Mr. O’Riley is here, sir.  I shall report back as soon as Mr. Solo begins to respond.  Kuryakin out.”

It was later that day, five hours later, when Napoleon woke up for the second time.  This time he felt a little groggy, but his memory of the last few days was back, the encounter with Keyes a vivid scene as he recalled the wine and the descent into oblivion.

Illya was standing by, as promised, relieved now to hear his friend describe the effects of the serum, the strange dream or hallucination it had produced, and the reclamation of his faculties.

“So, what are our plans for the evening Illya?  Dinner, dancing... “  A big smile finished the thought.  Napoleon was better, and never one to waste time recuperating, he was ready to resume his life... with gratitude of course.

Illya scrutinized his friend, amazed that Napoleon was actually considering going out and possibly romancing some unsuspecting female.  Not even a malicious THRUSH potion could slow down this effervescent man from UNCLE, it seemed.

“Very well, but at the first sign of trouble we come back here and call O’Riley.  I can’t be responsible for you if those symptoms return.”  That produced a smirk on Napoleon’s face, but it didn’t slow him down as he headed for the bathroom with showing in mind.

“Take it easy, IK, I feel fine.  The night is young... It is still young, right?’  At Illya’s nod Napoleon continued.  “Island cuisine and ocean breezes, something good is bound to happen.”

He closed the door to the bathroom, leaving his partner to consider what lay in store.  There was no point fighting it, and he had spotted a rather attractive young woman earlier...

Illya decided to change clothes and refresh his attitude.  Maybe something good was about to happen.

Comments

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

What a grand and clever segue getting from Ireland to the tropics! Great job!