What's My Line? A Timely Intervention

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

The prompt is Timely...

Finally, the end has come to this little drama.  What came before is listed here, just in case you haven't read it or have forgotten what it's all about.
April Daze
In With A Bang, Out With A Whimper
April's Dream
House of Monkeys
Moving In
Sorting Remnants
Seamless
The Morning After
The Mission's The Thing

:~~~~~:~~~~~:~~~~~:~~~~~:

A Timely Intervention

The party was in full swing by the time the four UNCLE agents walked through the front entry to Mulrooney’s Edwardian Manor House.  It wasn’t among the oldest of Britain’s fine homes, having been built after a fire destroyed the original structure.  The Mulrooney’s had come to be in spite of the objections raised to a baronet’s daughter marrying beneath her station; the son of an Irish tradesman was not considered appropriate, but the union had broken through rigid social barriers nonetheless.

Illya was the first to enter, with April trailing behind him slightly in the shadow of her surly husband.  Mark and Napoleon brought up the rear of their entourage, each of them quickly assessing the surroundings and the people within.

“Illya, welcome to my humble abode.’ Daryl greeted the erstwhile designer, but his eyes were on April, her obvious discomfort a source of sudden concern.

“April darling, you look smashing as always.”  He kissed her on the cheek, whispering something that made her eyes widen slightly.

Illya was aware of Mulrooney’s brazen overture, but let it pass.  His job was to make a liaison between April and Daryl a possibility, allowing Napoleon and Mark better access to the house and grounds.  Illya would continue in his role, and hope to discover the true nature of their host’s business.

“So this is how the other half lives.  I suspected as much, Daryl, all of those years ago at Cambridge.  I seem to be collaborating with the enemy.”  He finished that with a broad smile, seemingly caught up in his own sense of irony.  In truth, he was resisting a memory that wanted to assert itself; his discomfort among the privileged young men who had so blatantly disengaged themselves from any form of real friendship with the young Soviet student.  His life at Cambridge had as many harsh realities as other phases of his existence.

“Ever the bolshivik old man?  Doesn’t that get a bit wearying after all these years.  After all, you’re pursuing a posh life these days, what with this line of work.”

Illya gave him a small smile, disdainful to those who understood.

“I must follow my muse in life, no matter the inconsistencies it illuminates in my soul.”

“I didn’t think you had a soul, Illya.”   Napoleon joined in, it was time to get on with the introductions.  April giggled at the comment, reinforcing a suggestion that the two men were in her corner.

“Oh Napoleon, you are a dear and I adore you.”  She leaned in a kissed him, full on the mouth.  Might as well play this for all it was worth.

“Mmm, and you are a dream my love.  I don’t know how you put up with that Russian ...”

Illya cut him off by grabbing April by the arm and pulling her to him.

“I’d say that’s quite enough.  Keep you hands and your mouth off of my wife or ...”

“Or what?  We already know more than you think, Kuryakin, and if you ever...” Napoleon was stopped from finishing that sentence with a whimper of distress from April.

“Oh please, not here.’  She turned to Mulrooney who was evaluating every word, ever nuance or gesture, within this group.

“Daryl, I apologize.  Please, show me your house.”  Her eyes pleaded with him to take her away from the conflict.  He wondered how badly she was treated by Illya, silently vowing to take her away from the brutish Russian.

“Your wish is my command.’ He kissed her hand and quickly escorted her away, leaving Illya glowering between Mark and Napoleon.  When they were far enough away, the three men began to discuss their plan.

“Illya, you just continue to wander through the crowd, see if you can annoy more people.”  Napoleon’s smile was deceptive, he was slightly concerned that the act with April held a little more animosity than was necessary.  He had to wonder if his partner was strained slightly more than he should be in the present scenario.

“I shall do my best.  You and Mark, in the meanwhile?”  Illya understood the undertone of his friend’s remark.  He was fine.  April could handle herself and ... well, better to not dwell on it.  He and the pretty Miss Dancer would work things out later.

Mark had seen something in Illya’s performance that struck him as odd, slightly out of character even for someone ‘in character’.

“I reckon we’ll reconnoiter, as they say.  You coming Napoleon?”  Mark was heading towards a pair of French doors and tossed the question over his shoulder.  Illya shooed his partner away with a flippant remark to which Solo responded with one of his smirky grins.  None of them knew exactly where April and Mulrooney had gotten off to, so Illya decided to play jealous husband and go looking for them.

As it happened, Daryl had escorted her to a spot farthest away from the gathering of people in the great room.  He felt certain that if the circumstances were favorable then April would gladly leave her husband for an idyllic life here with him.  Her knowledge of fashion and design would only cement their relationship, something he began to explain to her now as they sat in a small alcove that was shielded by a heavy damask drapery.

“April, I know your life with Kuryakin cannot be easy, I’ve seen how he treats you, and the hurt in your eyes.  Darling, leave him, I beg of you, and come stay with me.”  Daryl Mulrooney was sincere, and his affection for this young woman had stunned even him.  Illya was wandering the halls of the big house and thought he heard whispering behind a drawn drapery.  He listened for a bit, far enough away that no one would suspect he was there.

“Oh... my...’  Although it was what April and the team had hoped for, the very earnest supplication caught the UNCLE agent slightly off guard.  She looked into Daryl’s eyes and saw true emotion in them; that made her wonder what she had seen in Illya’s eyes.

“You flatter me, and you are very kind.  I... sigh ... I really don’t know what to say.”  Mulrooney took her hands and squeezed them.

“Say you’ll do it, darling.  Say you’ll leave Illya and start a new life with me.”  That was all Illya needed to hear.  He tore back the drapery to stand before the two sitting in secrecy.

“Is that what all of this is about, Mulrooney?  My designs and my wife, you want them both?”  Anger washed over the Russian at the thought of this man trying to steal April from him.  It was not just an act that prompted the display, and just as quickly he realized what he had done.  He had acted too quickly, not allowing April to play her part and learn more about Daryl’s involvement with THRUSH.

“Sorry old man, but you can see by your wife’s reluctance to come to your side that you’re on the losing end of this game.’ The owner of Monkey House had a smile on his face that only reached as high as his upper lip.  Something else was there, but what?

“Oh, and I don’t even mind that she’s an UNCLE agent, unlike you old chap.”  April gasped at the sight of two big men who had appeared behind Illya.  Before she could let out a warning one of them caught him around the neck in a choke hold.

“No!  Daryl, don’t hurt him.  What are you doing?”  April wasn’t sure if she should remain in character as a wife or step into the fray with all of her training.  Daryl had a grip on her arm now that told her to bide her time.  Illya, meanwhile had succumbed to the brute strength of the man who held him, and sagged limply as he fell into unconsciousness.

“Is he ...”  She dared not say it, but fear for Illya’s life now seized at April’s heart.

“No, merely unconscious.  I can’t guarantee you anything, however, not when my interests have been compromised.’  Mulrooney pulled April around so that she had no choice but to look up at him.  Her questioning eyes prompted him to speak again.

“April, I do adore you, and I meant what I said.  I don’t care that you are an UNCLE agent, so long as you’re willing to leave that behind.  I will take care of you, give you a life full of ease and luxury... anything you desire will be yours.”  April was shocked, but something about all of this made her want to giggle.  She wisely subdued the urge.

“I don’t know what to say, only that I don’t want Illya killed.  He can be irritable and mean, but I have loved him and don’t want to see any harm come to him.  Can you promise me that?”

Daryl would say anything at this point if it meant gaining April.

“All right, I promise I won’t hurt Illya.  But April?”  She took his hand, feigning feelings that she didn’t possess.

“Yes darling?”  Where, she wondered, were Mark and Napoleon.  If they hadn’t found anything to connect Mulrooney to THRUSH by now then they ought to join this party.

“I need you to stay here, today, and not go back to your place.”  What was going on?  Had he done something to it, was it a trap now?

“What about Illya?  Are you going to let him go back home?  I don’t understand Daryl.”

“I said I wouldn’t hurt him, April.  But I do have to turn him over to my...um.... my associates.  It wouldn’t do for me to break protocol at this point.  You understand, don’t you?  Do you really care what happens to him, after the way he’s treated you?”  Now April had to wonder about Daryl’s take on reality.  If he knew they were agents then why was he still talking about them as though they were actually married?

“Will you at least let me say goodbye?  He may have been mean to me but at one point I really did love him.”  Daryl couldn’t say no to this woman, she would soon have him completely under her spell.

“I’ll do what I can, please believe that.”  She nodded.  She had to get word to Napoleon and Mark somehow.

“Yes, of course I believe you darling.  I’ll trust you to do what’s best.”

Napoleon and Mark were listening to his conversation via the small microphone that Mark had put on April’s earring.  When he adjusted the device she would be able to hear him as well.  Napoleon thought now was a good time.

“April, don’t flinch luv but we’re here listening.  Just carry on as though you mean what you just said to him.”  The senior agent wanted to know where his partner had been taken, and then they were going to bust up this operation for good.

“Oh, uh... Daryl darling, do you think I could see Illya now?  I just don’t want him to think too badly of me, after all we are married.”  Mulrooney didn’t much like the idea of leading his new lover to the cell where he was keeping her husband, however, he had promised...

“Very well darling.  Just don’t be too harsh in your opinion of me when you do see him.  In spite of your training I believe you are still quite fragile, like a sweet flower in a meadow of long grasses.  You, my love, are too wonderful for this vile occupation.  And most certainly for that brute of a husband.”  April was puzzled.  Daryl had seemed to be completely sane, and yet now he was talking like a man slightly deranged.

Napoleon nudged Mark during this conversation, mouthing the word ‘crazy?’ to him.  The sandy haired agent nodded, his concern for April now in full swing.  They needed her to find out where Illya was being kept and let them know before anything else could happen.

Almost as though answering their request, Daryl took April’s hand and led her through the hallway to a stairway leading down into what she imagined was a dungeon; it did not disappoint her in the least.

“Oh dear, is this where you’re keeping Illya?  It’s way down here in this dungeon...”  She let her words trail off, hopeful that the boys could still hear her down in the bowels of the old house.

“Don’t be alarmed, my dear, I’m sure he’s still alive and as unpleasant as ever.”  April wanted to see for herself but she dared not act too compassionate.  Mulrooney was deep into this illusion he had of a marriage between two UNCLE agents, of him rescuing a damsel in distress.

“Well, just for the sake of what we had, you understand.  I know you’ll do whatever you think is best darling.”  She laid it on thick and hoped for a timely rescue.

Napoleon and Mark were tracking their progress through the underside of the home, nearing the place where Illya was being held.  Shackled in some ancient looking contraption that had him pinned to the stone wall, spread eagle and barely conscious, April found herself staring open mouthed at the man to whom she had made love just two nights before.  To the left, one of the two men from earlier was cranking a handle that seemed to be pulling on Illya’s limbs.  He groaned from the pain of it, a searing blaze of light penetrating his mind as he began to awaken to his predicament.

April had to do something, and fast.

“Daryl, will you please let him go, just release him from those... whatever they are?  I just don’t think I can live with myself if you do anything to him, or allow him to ...”  She seemed to burst into tears, ramming her head into the chest of the man she hoped to convince.  Mercy was not in his wheelhouse, nor was freeing his adversary

“I cannot, will not let this man go free.  I fear for what he might do to you, my darling.”

April was beside herself with concern, wondering where Mark and Napoleon were and hoping against hope that they were close enough to end this affair and get Illya free of the blasted torture machine he was attached to.

“Why did you align yourself with THRUSH?  Why choose them, Daryl?  What did they offer you?”  She was pleading with him now, hoping that he would yield to her entreaty for mercy.  He looked at her now with suspicion, a dawning realization that she was still an UNCLE agent, and as such, the enemy.

“I see now where your loyalties lie, April.  You don’t really care for me, do you.  No, your heart is still pleading for that Russian dog.  I hated him at Cambridge, and I hate him even more now for you loving him.  I won’t assuage your guilt with kindness.  You let me think that the marriage was over, and ...”  And then his senses returned.

“You’re not married!”  Daryl walked towards the ugly machine, determined to crank it higher and do as much damage as possible.  As he reached for the handle, he pushed aside the man who had been working there.  One turn of the crank and Illya yelped in pain as muscle and bone were stretched to a new limit.

Pfft.  Pfft.

Two sleep darts and the two THRUSH, Daryl and his man, were down.  The handle  began to turn backwards, allowing Illya’s body to return to a more normal state.  Mark was at his side, as was April, removing him from the hateful machine.  Napoleon kneeled down to check on Mulrooney and his associate, looked up to see his fellow agents helping his partner to sit down.

“Where is the other guy?  I saw two of them upstairs.” April didn’t want any more surprises.  Napoleon jerked his head to indicate the hallway beyond.

“He’s out cold.  I’ve called for back up and a clean up crew.  The party goers are mostly innocent, but we’ll get the THRUSH members that are mixing and mingling.  It turns out they’re all wearing a certain badge on their clothing, something that each of them can identify.”

“Don’t tell me... a little black bird?”  April was relieved, sad, happy... She was nervous about what would happen next.

Illya was lucid now, willing his body to not fail him in spite of the residual pain from the torture machine.

“Do we have enough proof that Mulrooney is fronting a THRUSH establishment?”  He wanted to be done with this affair, needed to go home and regroup.  Napoleon leaned in to help get him up and walking.  They could go back to Headquarters and get the Russian into Medical.  It wasn’t serious, but he should be looked at.

“Mark, I’m leaving you in charge of the scene.  April, come back with us and let’s get started on the report.”  April gave Mark a hug and a kiss on his cheek, grateful for him and for his friendship.  At least she was clear on that relationship.

“Yeah mate, I’m on it.  Take care of blondie.”  He winked as he said the last, sure that Kuryakin would forgive him eventually.

One week later and everyone was back in New York.  Illya wasn’t badly damaged and had been given a couple of days to regain his mental and physical balance.  What had happened between him and April had not yet been discussed; it seemed neither of them wanted to acknowledge it for fear of either repeating it, or worse, ending it completely.

Finally, April could stand it no longer and gave in to her anxiety.  She knew the encounter had been a dangerous departure for both of them, for many reasons.  After she returned to New York, the review of Mulrooney’s actions cemented at least one reason for not continuing the affair with Illya: he had seen something and used it against them.

Standing outside Illya’s apartment door, she hesitated before finally knocking on it, sending a coded message that a friend was outside.

Illya unlocked and opened the door to find April standing there, looking slightly apprehensive.

“April, what are you... Please, come in.”  He stood back and let her enter.  She had never seen Illya’s apartment before, and now the old feelings began to resurface as she let him lead her to the leather sofa, soft with wear and bearing signs of years of use.

“I hope you’re feeling better, I.. um...’  She took a breath, a very deep breath.  He understood.  He wouldn’t hold her, nor would he kiss her, even though every cell in his body ached to do so.

“I am fine, thank you.  That was quite the adventure, yeah?  See, I’m even talking again like an Englishman.”  They both laughed at that, allowed the tension to dissipate just a little.

“Illya, I just felt as though we should... I don’t know, maybe talk about what happened.”  She didn’t want to talk, she wanted him to take her in his arms and ravish her the way he had in London.  No matter how cavalier she had tried to be, her feelings for this man just wouldn’t go away.

Illya recognized the same thoughts he had been turning away for the past several days.  It just wouldn’t do for them to repeat what had transported them for that one night.

“April, I don’t know quite how to say this...’ Should he tell her what he felt, how his heart was full and his mind distracted because of her?

“London was nice.”  April felt deflated, embarrassed... nice?

“I’m so glad you thought it was nice, Illya.” She almost spat out the words, she could feel her face getting hot.  This wasn’t what he wanted, and now she was hurt.

“Yes, I mean it’s been building for months, hasn’t it?  And now we know, and... well, that’s that.  I wouldn’t want to hold you back from seeing anyone else, not as though we considered it more than what it was.”  April thought she could probably punch him right now and never regret it.

“No, no we wouldn’t want it to be something more.’ And to think she came all the way over here to talk to him and he was dismissing her as nothing more than... And then she saw it.  The faintest glimmer of something else, a crack in the facade of the best actor in the Command.

“I understand, and you’re absolutely right Illya.  What we had in London was all about timing, and making our relationship look real.  And for what it’s worth, it was more than nice, but I get why you’re saying what you’re saying.  I do.  It’s okay.  Really.”

Illya fought to keep his arms at his side.

“April, we’re Section II!  Mulrooney saw through our little charade and, if not for the fact that he fancied you, it might have gone much worse than it did.  We can’t afford to be vulnerable, to have someone for whom we are willing to betray the Command.”

April was stunned by the outburst, she had to wonder how far Illya might have gone to protect her.

“You’re absolutely right, Illya.  Our little tryst was dangerous, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.  You made me feel safe, and loved and ... I’ll never forget it.  Or you.”

“You make it sound as though things are very final.”  His eyes were pleading with her to understand, to not be angry.

“Aren’t they?  You’re telling me that a relationship within UNCLE, between Section II agents, is an impossible situation.  Maybe you’re right, maybe they’d drum us out of the Command.  You and Napoleon have sex with the enemy, with innocents... Is that really all you want out of life?  Random partners without any promise of a future together?’  Now she was mad, at Illya and Mr. Waverly... everyone who made or followed all the rules.

“April, listen to yourself.  It’s for our safety and the safety of anyone we might love that these rules are in place.  Being vulnerable is dangerous, for everyone.  I’m not willing to put you in that position.  Don’t you see?”

And then she did see.  She saw a beautiful man whose life had never been truly his own, faced now with having love in his life at a cost, or going back to living at the beck and call of those higher up than he.

“It’s all right, Illya.  It isn’t love... yet.  We’ll be all right, I promise.  I’ll not try to tempt you again.’  She reached her hand out to touch his cheek but he caught it in his, kissing her hand and then, in one last momentary lapse he took her in his arms and kissed her long and deep until she couldn’t breath any more.

“No, it isn’t love. But it might have been.”

April collected herself and turned to the door.  When she looked back at him, Illya was smiling, just a little.  It made her heart skip a beat, but she continued out and through the door, down the hallway to the elevator and finally to the street where she hailed a taxi.

“Where d’ya want to be, little lady.”

“Mark?  Oh, darling Mark.  Take me out dancing, will you?”

Illya watched the taxi pull away from the curb and out into the evening traffic.  He watched until the car disappeared, then turned his back and heaved a very great sigh.

Comments

[jkkitty.livejournal.com]

Touching, sad and wanting. The life of a section 2, alone again.

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Like so many people, what one knows and what one wants is not always in synch. Thanks for commenting on the story.