Light The Way - Conclusion - PicFic 6/9

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
The picture has taken over this chapter, I hope you'll forgive me.
~~~~~:

Illya came to with a blinding headache, the result of having been hit on the head with piece of driftwood that could have doubled as a baseball bat.  He remembered too late that if he shook his head to clear it there would be repercussions to that violence movement.

“Chyort...’ It was too late to pretend he wasn’t awake, and from the look of the person watching him the act would have been futile.

“Who are you?  Why did you hit me on the head like that?”  Two questions, neither of which would receive a satisfactory reply.  Instead the woman stood and started circling the blond agent, her movements reminiscent of a big cat as she smoothly covered the room with languid, long legged steps.

“I suppose there might have been a better way to get your attention, Mr. Kuryakin.  However, it seemed best to render you unconscious, and thereby less threatening.”  Her voice was fluid and soothing, something that made Illya feel even more anxious about his future.  Experience had taught him that the more charming the THRUSH the more deadly he or she was likely to be.

“You know my name, I am still waiting to hear yours.”  His tone was icy, flat enough to render most people justifiably ill at ease.  The woman continued to observe her captive, matching his glare with something of her own.

Confidence.

“You, Mr. Kuryakin, are well known among my colleagues.  I might go so far as to say you are a bit of a celebrity.  Not in a good way, though...” She clucked her tongue in a disapproving manner.

“No, you are known for destroying what my colleagues build, ending the careers of promising THRUSH agents and ... well, you get the idea.”  Illya did get the idea, and he wondered where this was going.  It was his business to stop THRUSH, so why make an issue of it now?

“Perhaps you wish to honor me in some way, then.  Nothing elaborate though, I wouldn’t wish to trouble you.”  He was certainly smug about it, she had to give him that.  Was it possible that her plan was flawed in some way?  She had expected him to fear her, at least a little.

“Mr. Kuryakin, you are my prisoner, and the only honor you will receive from me is when I kill you.”  Her voice remained smooth as cream while she delivered the threat.  Illya couldn’t place her, had no recollection of anyone like her among the THRUSH he had encountered.

“Ah, so I am to die.  Well, it was bound to happen sometime, I suppose.  May I at least know the particulars of this little revolution you are planning?”  Details.  Illya needed the details and then he’d figure out how to evade this woman’s scorn.  Where was Napoleon when he needed saving?

Napoleon was still trying to charm Meryl Leach out of something he desperately needed: information.  She was not cooperating yet, although the suave agent had little doubt of eventually getting past her practiced veil of secrecy.

“Meryl, you are an intoxicatingly beautiful woman.  Perhaps you haven’t considered how a life of crime can age you.”  Since he wasn’t getting anywhere with subtlety, Napoleon decided to hit her straight on.  She looked surprised but recovered quickly.

“Napoleon Solo, you certainly know how to get to the heart of the matter.  Why are you calling me a criminal?  All I’m doing is trying to protect the Keys from being absorbed by all of those average people who have invaded our community.”

She was serious, and Napoleon was momentarily speechless.

“Meryl, what exactly do you mean by average?  And how is it reason enough to try and secede from Florida?”  This entire affair was bizarre beyond what was normally considered bizarre by Solo.

“Have you ever seen those ridiculous beach movies?  Surfers and vapid girls who wear too much make-up and date the village idiot?  We don’t want to be one of those places, Napoleon.  THRUSH has given us a way to stop that from happening here, of maintaining the superior lifestyle we enjoy.”

Napoleon tried not to look dumbfounded by what Meryl was saying to him.  Surely she wasn’t as stupid as she sounded.

“Meryl my dear, you don’t need THRUSH to maintain your lifestyle.  Just a few ordinances against beach blanket movies, some charm schools for the girls and...”  He stopped suddenly, smiling a megawatt smile that made Meryl think she could be wrong.

“Napoleon darling, you are really something.  I almost sound silly to myself.”  Perfect.  Now he had something to work with.

“You’re not silly, Meryl, just ... um.. idealistic.  You love your community and your lifestyle, and you want to keep it intact.  I understand.”  Just then the waiter brought a telephone to their table.

“For you Miss Leach.”  Meryl took the phone.

“Oh really?  I see, yes... well just don’t do anything yet.  Yes, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”  She put down the receiver and inhaled.  Napoleon watched with great interest.  He had a feeling this was something to do with the lighthouse.

“Who was that, Meryl?”  Her eyes told him what he needed to know, but he hoped she had been truly convinced to give up this strange scheme.

“Napoleon, that was my sister.  She has your partner, Illya Kuryakin, and she intends to kill him.”  Meryl hadn’t counted on killing people, but her sister was truly a THRUSH agent and had convinced her sister to go along with this business.

“I didn’t know, Napoleon.  I honestly didn’t know.”  Meryl looked sincerely disturbed, and Napoleon knew that this was his moment.

“Meryl, sweetheart, where are they?  Please tell me where my partner is.  We can still save him, and your sister.  She doesn’t have to be a murderer.”  She was confused, but looking into Solo’s eyes made her want to please him.

“They’re at the lighthouse, just the two of them.  She’s determined to rise in the ranks of THRUSH, and thinks this is the way to do it.  Oh Napoleon, please... I don’t want anyone killed.”

At the lighthouse it was a matter of time for the Russian.  He could see that this woman was determined to make a name for herself and it would be at his expense.  Something about THRUSH acted like an infectious disease, making people do things that sanity would deter.  This woman, whatever her name was, had set out on a course of action that not only included trying to liberate the Florida Keys from ... from Florida.  She was climbing a corporate ladder unlike any other, with accomplishments strewn at the base in the form of bodies and bad deeds.

Natalie Leach had become a part of THRUSH while attending college; pretty, intelligent and competitive, she was a poster girl for the type of woman THRUSH wanted among their ranks.  As she gloated internally over her coup of capturing Kuryakin, the UNCLE agent was exploring every possible avenue of escape.  His arms were stretched away from his body, his wrists handcuffed to some old pipes that ran up the length of the wall.  He couldn’t move without her seeing what he was doing, so...

Napoleon and Meryl made a fast exit from the restaurant; now that she was out of the notion of overthrowing the local government, the beautiful store owner was anxious to make things right.  First on her list was not being involved with murdering an UNCLE agent.

Napoleon, for his part, was grateful for the phone call from Natalie Leach that was, hopefully, going to save Illya’s life.  He was also grateful that they were close to the lighthouse; time was of the essence.

Natalie was savoring her victory, one she would share with no one else.  Kuryakin was her trophy, and when she presented proof of his death to the members of THRUSH Central, her future with the Hierarchy would be guaranteed.  She reached into her handbag for her gun, withdrawing it slowly as Illya watched.  Meryl wondered what it would feel like to kill a man... this man.  She turned her attention to the blond and was struck unexpectedly by the expression of disdain.  Blue eyes that mimicked the sky made her feel unsure of herself, of her mission.

She wasn’t a killer.

The door opened just as Natalie was experiencing this moment of clarity, and her sister Meryl entered, gasping at the sight of the gun.  Napoleon took inventory of the mood and was able to easily take the gun out of Natalie’s trembling hand.  The sisters hugged each other, both of them in tears at the close call they had endured under the influence of the strange scheme.

“Excuse me, but would someone please undo these cuffs?”  Illya had watched the scene unfold but was impatient to be set free from the pipes.  His arms ached and his head hurt...

Napoleon, certain that there would be no more danger from either of the Leach sisters, pocketed the gun and located the keys to the handcuffs.  One never knew for certain which way things would go, but he was glad that these gorgeous women had decided to abandon a life of crime.

“There you go, tovarisch.  I think we have things under control for now. Have you seen anyone else here?”  The lighthouse appeared to be empty except for the four people in the room.  Illya shook his head no; he had wondered why Natalie had been unaccompanied by the usual THRUSH goons.

“No, which makes this all the more distasteful.”  He indicated the cuffs and his obvious embarrassment at being captured by one lone woman.  Napoleon could empathize, he’d had his own encounters with capable THRUSH women.

“I guess the reinforcement have withdrawn.  I wonder ...”

In New York, Alexander Waverly was reading for the second time a note he had received just hours before.  Besides the Leach women, all of the other THRUSH personnel had been withdrawn from Florida.  The sisters seemed to be unwilling to give up their dreams of independence, but he had every confidence that his men would be successful in dissuading them from a life of corruption.  Once again, Victor had given his old adversary a token of his grudging admiration.

The next day found the two UNCLE agents enjoying one last day in the Keys.  The Leach sisters had decided to take an impromptu vacation and had driven into Miami to catch a flight to Europe.  Illya and Napoleon decided to spend some time on the beach before heading north again.

There seemed to be some excitement farther down the beach.  Napoleon got the attention of a teenage girl and asked what had the crowd’s attention.

‘Oh, it’s the grooviest thing mister.  They’re making a movie here, right here in Key West, and we get to be in it.”  Napoleon grinned, the girl was very excited.

“Well, doesn’t that sound like a lot of fun...  Illya, lots of fun, right?”  Illya rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be called Keys to the Beach.  Get it, keys?  Groovy, huh?”

“Definitely groovy.”

Illya and Napoleon decided to get on the road back to Miami.  Film crews and ditzy teenage girls were better left behind.  This strange affair had been handled here and more importantly, from New York.  The details of how Mr. Waverly had managed to finesse the withdrawal of the THRUSH presence from the Florida Keys was something yet to be discovered, but the sudden appearance of a film crew made Napoleon suspicious.

It made Illya glad he was leaving.

Comments

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

A good, original climax. It would have been easy to make it bathetic, but you didn't.

Good light ending, too.

This affair really would make excellent canon.

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Thanks, it's just weird enough to fit into season 3.

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

Just checking...You have seen the latest on dw news? If you haven't:

http://dw-news.dreamwidth.org/35574.html

As you're a mod, I thought you might be interested.