Awakening Ghosts Chapter 2
Jun. 19th, 2014 10:19 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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section7mfuChapter 2
Napoleon excused himself to the kitchen in order to apprise Mr Waverly of the unfolding events. He left a horribly heavy atmosphere between the two Kuryakins. Illya had positioned himself near the window with his arms folded defensively across his chest, and his glare was fixed on the possible imposter. Not a word was exchanged between them until Napoleon return five minutes later.
“Erm…. Would you join me in the kitchen please Illya?”
The younger agent followed his partner, making sure to keep Alexey in his eye line at all times.
“What did Mr Waverly say?”
“Ok, the good news is, we’re not on leave.” Napoleon informed him. “The Old Man thinks there could be a possible THRUSH element at work here. Therefore, checking out Alexey’s story is officially a mission. That means we also have full access to U.N.C.L.E. resources.”
“His instincts are rarely wrong.” Illya conceded. “What is the bad news?”
Napoleon took a deep breath, knowing his next statement was not going to go down well.
“He’s forbidding you from entering Russia, Tovarisch,” he told him, with regret. He knew how much Illya missed his homeland. “Waverly thinks it would just open up a host of additional problems.”
“How am I supposed to learn anything from here?”
“He’s sending Mark Slate.”
Illya weighed up the options. He briefly considered disregarding the order, but realised the Old Man was probably right. When Illya had arrived at U.N.C.L.E. New York, his government had allowed it on the understanding he would spy on his American hosts. They hadn’t, however, reckoned on Illya’s loyalty to U.N.C.L.E. After living in Paris and London, the young agent had learned a little of what personal freedom meant, and he’d liked it. As much as he missed Mother Russia, he knew he was unlikely to return there permanently. As for the current situation, it would definitely be too dangerous for him to go back.
“I suppose Mark is the next best person to me” Illya decided eventually. “At least Mr Waverly has the sense not to send an American.”
He smiled slightly at the look of false indignation on his partner’s face. They both knew sending a Brit to Russia was a danger, but sending an American would be plain stupid.
“So what do we do while Mark is doing the donkey work?”
“Waverly is arranging for a safe house and guards for Alexey to stay in until Mark comes up with answers. We have to contact him with the name Alexey was known by in Russia, then we are to trace his movements here. “
Illya nodded his agreement. He could easily have gone off on his own to discover the truth, but he had to admit; it would be easier and safer to have Napoleon, Mark and Mr Waverly behind him.
“Napoleon, there is one thing which puzzles me.”
“Just one?” Solo asked, knowing full well the whole thing was somewhat of a mystery.
“I’ll be able to get answers for everything else,” Illya replied, his voice so quiet that Napoleon had to lean forward to hear him. “What really puzzles me is, if the man in there is Alexey, why did my parents hold a funeral? I remember it clearly. There was even a coffin.”
Solo placed a hand on Illya’s shoulder.
“That was probably their way of dealing with giving him away,” he said softly. “For all intents and purposes, they were losing a child. Maybe it was easier to imagine him dead. It could also have been for the benefit of you and your sisters. Or even the village. They may not have told them the truth of what they were doing.”
Illya had to agree. Even though it was a very common thing to do, giving away or even selling a child was still frowned upon. If everyone thought Alexey to be dead, it would have made things easier for everyone. The Russian briefly returned Napoleon’s supportive gesture before going back to Alexey.
“What name were you given by your adoptive parents?” Illya demanded of the younger man.
“They kept Alexey, because I was at an age when I was saying it myself,” he replied. “My full name is Alexey Sergeyevich Ivanov.”
MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMF
It was two days before they heard back from Mark. While they waited, the agents had confirmed that Alexey had been in the country all of three days before approaching Illya. What they couldn’t find out, was how he knew where Illya lived. The younger Russian seemed reluctant to tell them. The two agents were at the safe house, taking their turn at guard duty, when Mark contacted them.
“Alright Mate,” he greeted cheerily. “Have I got some very interesting information for you.”
“Just tell me Mark!” Illya snapped. He was in no mood for guessing games.
“He is most definitely your brother,” the Brit announced. “Do you know a really old woman called… er … Galina Vasilyevna Petrova?”
“Y..yes,” Illya stuttered. His mind and heart were racing at the news he wasn’t the last Kuryakin. “She was my Babushka’s, sorry, my Grandmother’s cousin.”
“She arranged Alexey’s adoption.” Mark continued. “It was all highly illegal of course, but she made sure he went to a couple who were unable to have children of their own. There is something else you need to know. Alexey isn’t the only person who has been looking for you in your village.”
Illya wasn’t surprised. He was and would continue to be a person of interest for his government. He had no doubt there were probably regular checks in the village to see if he had made contact with anyone.
“KGB or GRU?” He asked.
“Neither. Apparently, they were foreign.”
“Okay Mark, thanks.”
Illya cut communications and turned to his partner, raising a quizzical eyebrow. Napoleon shrugged.
“If they’re not yours it must be either ours or THRUSH.”
“Good guess Mr Solo.”
Illya and Napoleon span around to face the new voice in the room. They found themselves staring down the barrels of three THRUSH rifles. A fourth man stepped out from behind the gunmen and put his arm across Alexey’s shoulder.
“Young Mr Ivanov here, or should I say, Kuryakin, accepted our assistance to help him find the revenge he seems to need so dearly.”
“Alexey?” Illya asked, stunned at the sudden turn of events. He’d only just discovered his brother was alive and now that very same brother seemed to be working with his enemies.
“I’m sorry Illusha,” the younger man replied, without a trace of remorse. “But as the last member of my birth family, you bear the responsibility for my abandonment. Do you know how it feels to learn you’d simply been tossed aside?”
Without waiting for an answer, he turned on his heel and walked out of the house. The unarmed THRUSH man waggled a finger at Illya.
“If you would please come with us Mr Kuryakin.”
Napoleon stepped forward, reaching for his weapon. Before he even had a hand on it, a bullet slammed into his shoulder and dropped him to the ground. He tried to push himself up, but was knocked senseless by a well-placed rifle butt. Knowing he was out of options, Illya carefully extracted his own weapon and laid it on the coffee table. He took one last glance at his prone partner before being led out to a waiting vehicle.
To be continued.
Napoleon excused himself to the kitchen in order to apprise Mr Waverly of the unfolding events. He left a horribly heavy atmosphere between the two Kuryakins. Illya had positioned himself near the window with his arms folded defensively across his chest, and his glare was fixed on the possible imposter. Not a word was exchanged between them until Napoleon return five minutes later.
“Erm…. Would you join me in the kitchen please Illya?”
The younger agent followed his partner, making sure to keep Alexey in his eye line at all times.
“What did Mr Waverly say?”
“Ok, the good news is, we’re not on leave.” Napoleon informed him. “The Old Man thinks there could be a possible THRUSH element at work here. Therefore, checking out Alexey’s story is officially a mission. That means we also have full access to U.N.C.L.E. resources.”
“His instincts are rarely wrong.” Illya conceded. “What is the bad news?”
Napoleon took a deep breath, knowing his next statement was not going to go down well.
“He’s forbidding you from entering Russia, Tovarisch,” he told him, with regret. He knew how much Illya missed his homeland. “Waverly thinks it would just open up a host of additional problems.”
“How am I supposed to learn anything from here?”
“He’s sending Mark Slate.”
Illya weighed up the options. He briefly considered disregarding the order, but realised the Old Man was probably right. When Illya had arrived at U.N.C.L.E. New York, his government had allowed it on the understanding he would spy on his American hosts. They hadn’t, however, reckoned on Illya’s loyalty to U.N.C.L.E. After living in Paris and London, the young agent had learned a little of what personal freedom meant, and he’d liked it. As much as he missed Mother Russia, he knew he was unlikely to return there permanently. As for the current situation, it would definitely be too dangerous for him to go back.
“I suppose Mark is the next best person to me” Illya decided eventually. “At least Mr Waverly has the sense not to send an American.”
He smiled slightly at the look of false indignation on his partner’s face. They both knew sending a Brit to Russia was a danger, but sending an American would be plain stupid.
“So what do we do while Mark is doing the donkey work?”
“Waverly is arranging for a safe house and guards for Alexey to stay in until Mark comes up with answers. We have to contact him with the name Alexey was known by in Russia, then we are to trace his movements here. “
Illya nodded his agreement. He could easily have gone off on his own to discover the truth, but he had to admit; it would be easier and safer to have Napoleon, Mark and Mr Waverly behind him.
“Napoleon, there is one thing which puzzles me.”
“Just one?” Solo asked, knowing full well the whole thing was somewhat of a mystery.
“I’ll be able to get answers for everything else,” Illya replied, his voice so quiet that Napoleon had to lean forward to hear him. “What really puzzles me is, if the man in there is Alexey, why did my parents hold a funeral? I remember it clearly. There was even a coffin.”
Solo placed a hand on Illya’s shoulder.
“That was probably their way of dealing with giving him away,” he said softly. “For all intents and purposes, they were losing a child. Maybe it was easier to imagine him dead. It could also have been for the benefit of you and your sisters. Or even the village. They may not have told them the truth of what they were doing.”
Illya had to agree. Even though it was a very common thing to do, giving away or even selling a child was still frowned upon. If everyone thought Alexey to be dead, it would have made things easier for everyone. The Russian briefly returned Napoleon’s supportive gesture before going back to Alexey.
“What name were you given by your adoptive parents?” Illya demanded of the younger man.
“They kept Alexey, because I was at an age when I was saying it myself,” he replied. “My full name is Alexey Sergeyevich Ivanov.”
MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMF
It was two days before they heard back from Mark. While they waited, the agents had confirmed that Alexey had been in the country all of three days before approaching Illya. What they couldn’t find out, was how he knew where Illya lived. The younger Russian seemed reluctant to tell them. The two agents were at the safe house, taking their turn at guard duty, when Mark contacted them.
“Alright Mate,” he greeted cheerily. “Have I got some very interesting information for you.”
“Just tell me Mark!” Illya snapped. He was in no mood for guessing games.
“He is most definitely your brother,” the Brit announced. “Do you know a really old woman called… er … Galina Vasilyevna Petrova?”
“Y..yes,” Illya stuttered. His mind and heart were racing at the news he wasn’t the last Kuryakin. “She was my Babushka’s, sorry, my Grandmother’s cousin.”
“She arranged Alexey’s adoption.” Mark continued. “It was all highly illegal of course, but she made sure he went to a couple who were unable to have children of their own. There is something else you need to know. Alexey isn’t the only person who has been looking for you in your village.”
Illya wasn’t surprised. He was and would continue to be a person of interest for his government. He had no doubt there were probably regular checks in the village to see if he had made contact with anyone.
“KGB or GRU?” He asked.
“Neither. Apparently, they were foreign.”
“Okay Mark, thanks.”
Illya cut communications and turned to his partner, raising a quizzical eyebrow. Napoleon shrugged.
“If they’re not yours it must be either ours or THRUSH.”
“Good guess Mr Solo.”
Illya and Napoleon span around to face the new voice in the room. They found themselves staring down the barrels of three THRUSH rifles. A fourth man stepped out from behind the gunmen and put his arm across Alexey’s shoulder.
“Young Mr Ivanov here, or should I say, Kuryakin, accepted our assistance to help him find the revenge he seems to need so dearly.”
“Alexey?” Illya asked, stunned at the sudden turn of events. He’d only just discovered his brother was alive and now that very same brother seemed to be working with his enemies.
“I’m sorry Illusha,” the younger man replied, without a trace of remorse. “But as the last member of my birth family, you bear the responsibility for my abandonment. Do you know how it feels to learn you’d simply been tossed aside?”
Without waiting for an answer, he turned on his heel and walked out of the house. The unarmed THRUSH man waggled a finger at Illya.
“If you would please come with us Mr Kuryakin.”
Napoleon stepped forward, reaching for his weapon. Before he even had a hand on it, a bullet slammed into his shoulder and dropped him to the ground. He tried to push himself up, but was knocked senseless by a well-placed rifle butt. Knowing he was out of options, Illya carefully extracted his own weapon and laid it on the coffee table. He took one last glance at his prone partner before being led out to a waiting vehicle.
To be continued.
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Date: 2014-06-19 10:29 pm (UTC)