section7mfu | SNAPSHOTS~ "Vanity and Pride" (Reply)

The explosion was beyond violent as it destroyed everything within a two-mile radius.

For once the blast wasn’t Kuryakin’s doing and if it hadn’t been for his partner being caught on the fringes of the explosion; Illya could have stopped to admire the handiwork. He presumed the MI6 agent, a 00, had been killed, as he was still inside the building.

The blond U.N.C.L.E. agent covered in a layer of fine dust wandered through the debris, desperately searching for Solo.

As the sun was beginning to set, the police and fire department present urged him to give up, as the American had to be dead, but Illya persisted.

He pushed aside still smoldering timber with his foot, listening one last time; it was then he heard it, a soft moan, A pile of plaster, wood splitters and glass moved ever so slightly.

Illya dashed towards it, tossing everything he could lay his hands on to the the side.

In the dust appeared a hand with a blue star sapphire ring on the pinky.

“Napoleon!” Kuryakin shouted as he dug like a madman.

His partner’s face appeared, dirty and covered with blood.

“I am here my friend, you are safe now,” Illya gushed, carefully lifting Solo into his arms.

“Can you speak?”

Napoleon barely managed to open his eyes, staring out at his friend with brown slits. His lips quivered into some semblance of a smile as he closed his eyes again.

Solo woke again in a hospital bed; his entire body feeling as if he’d been driven over by a steam roller.

“Hello my friend,” Illya’s face appeared above him. He looked down at Napoleon bruised face, dotted with cuts from the shards of glass. Everything had been cleaned up, but the nurse would be back momentarily to add apply an antibiotic cream before bandaging his face.

“I presume the Solo luck is intact since you survived something that you should have killed you,” the Russian spoke quietly.

“And 009?” Napoleon was barely able to speak.

Illya lied.

“Don’t try to fool a liar,” Solo said.” Shame, he was a good man.”

“I am sure MI6 will have their vengeance. M is a calculating man and he will most likely send James to… well what does it matter. It is their affair after all. We just came in at the tail end, did we not?”

Napoleon began to cough, sending his body into a spasm of pain.

Illya grabbed his partner’s hand, squeezing it to help him through it.

At that moment the nurse arrived; her gaze drifting to the blond and then to her patient.

“He’s in a lot of pain,” Illya whispered.

“I surmised as much. The doctor ordered this.” She held up a syringe.”I know how you agents detest anything that dulls your wits, but in this case it’s warranted.” The nurse administered the sedative.

“Could you give me another minute alone with my friend please?” Illya asked, flashing her a soulful look with his blue eyes. Unable to resist; she left the room.

“Napoleon, I will not be far away I promise,” he reached over to Solo’s cheek, gently stroking it until his partner drifted off to sleep.

Moments later the British nurse returned. “Mr. Kuryakin, there’s an empty bed next door, why don’t you go. You look exhausted. I promise I’ll come get you when he wakes up...I know how you agents like to stay by each other.”

Illya’s lids were beginning to droop and that made her suggestion most inviting. “Thank you Nurse Jones.” He looked at her name badge. “I think I will wait until you have him bandaged, if you do not mind?”

“Suit yourself,” the brunette woman said.

Illya simply nodded, thinking she was definitely Napoleon’s type...hourglass figure and big beautiful...eyes. Shame he was not awake to enjoy the view.

“Do you think his face will be scarred?” He finally whispered.

“That’s why I’m applying this cream, it contains and antibiotic as well emollients like aloe vera and vitamins E, A and D. They should prevent any scars. We plan to start using it on you boys on a regular basis now. I have a version of the cream without the antibiotic if you want to use it on some of your more recent scars...it may help lessen the appearance.”

Illya sighed, not quite sure he would want to do that. His scars were his reminders that he had survived yet again; they were like a badge of honor in a way...for fighting the good fight, as Napoleon would often say.

Still he hoped his partner’s face would not be scarred in the least. It would be devastating to one such as Napoleon Solo. He was not really a vain man per se, but took pride in his appearance. His face was important to him; his looks are part of what makes him what he is.

With that thought Kuryakin trundled off to the empty bed that awaited him. He collapsed onto it, rolling over to his back with a sigh. As he lay there, his hands clasped behind his head, some lines from ‘Pride and Prejudice’ came to mind…

“Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.”

Illya closed his eyes, knowing that his partner had a healthy balance of both, and was sure, feeling it in his bones, that Napoleon Solo would be fine.