Suited Up - PicFic 9/30

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

“I don’t care what you say, I am not going up there in this suit.  Yours won’t matter so much, all of that black... I won’t do it.”

Napoleon Solo was prepared to stand beneath the monstrous water tower for as long as it took his stubborn Russian partner to come to his senses and climb to the top and retrieve the package that was stashed there.  Illya was standing equally firm on his refusal to cooperate based on his partner’s insistence that a suit should trump duty.

“You keep reminding me that you are the senior agent, by two years.  Well then, as senior agent it is highly in your favor to get this job done by whatever means are necessary.  That includes climbing up there in your new suit.”

Napoleon smiled at Illya, just enough to let him know it wasn’t over.

One call to Mr. Waverly and a distinct lack of full disclosure, and the nimble blond was on his way to the top of the tower.  He moved carefully, clinging to the structure as he worked his way upwards to the underside of the big tank.  Once there he was able to mount the narrow walkway that underscored the tank and provided a space for moving more easily beneath it.  Illya found the parcel, tucked neatly between a girder and the tank itself.  There appeared to be nothing holding it in place, causing only a momentary hesitation before he took hold of it and pulled.  When he did, a puff of something sinister  caught the air and in seconds the Russian was down.

Napoleon, watching with a smug satisfaction at his ability to maneuver the situation in his favor, was suddenly on the move as he saw his partner collapse onto the meager platform.  One wrong move and he might have gone over the side, but somehow he managed to crumble in a heap and remain contained within the confines of the walkway’s short handrails.

“Oh my God... Illya...”  Instantly the agent began climbing up the rungs of the monolithic structure, his only thoughts on the state of his friend, no longer concerned about the suit he was wearing or the fact that is was catching bolts and rust as he continued up, higher into the farthest reaches of the tower.

Napoleon climbed onto the walkway and headed towards Illya who lay crumpled and unconscious, the package hanging from its original spot.  It was empty.  The ruse had worked and now at least one UNCLE agent was down.  When, and Napoleon didn’t allow ‘if’ to enter his mind; when they returned to headquarters he would track down the person who sent them on this wild goose chase and heads would roll.

“Illya... Illya!”  Napoleon slapped the face of his partner, hoping it would bring him around.  It did, sputtering and coughing, and then without warning lurching forward as he retched and nearly threw himself over the side.  Napoleon held on, pulling Illya back in as he collapsed against him in the narrow confines of the small bridge.

“Hey buddy, you really scared me.  Are you going to be all right?”  Illya wagged his head, a smirk replacing the look of anguish he had sported only seconds before.

“I am fine.  How is your suit?”  Napoleon looked down, refusing to look anguished over the fact that his friend had thrown up on it.

“It’s just peachy, nothing that a dry cleaner can’t handle.”  That translated to ‘the suit doesn’t matter as long as you’re okay’.

Both of them got positioned within that narrow corridor so that they could each get up and walk across to the other end.  Blond and brunet, both equally affected by the intense drama of the past few minutes, refused to admit that they were defeated in any way.  This wasn’t over, not by a long shot.

The way down was precarious with Napoleon in the lead and hopefully able to reach up and steady his partner should he falter.  Illya still felt the effects of the potent gas that had assaulted him, but he was focused on the trip down and determined to reach ground level without any additional trouble.

Once their feet touched the concrete pad on which the tower was built, Napoleon called in to headquarters and alerted Mr. Waverly of the deception.  This had been a ‘tip’, an unsolicited bit of information that stated a pouch containing vital information regarding THRUSH and its North American operations would be left in the location just visited.  It was the policy of the Command to follow leads, regardless of how vague, because anything that could be used in this war against villainy was accepted.  That agents were sometimes sacrificed because of this policy was a matter of the business at hand; it was impossible to protect against every situation, and Illya’s brush with near death proved that irrefutably.

“Mr. Waverly says to come in, and for you to check in at Medical.  He has an idea who was behind this and will have some things already in motion by the time we return.”  That was a lot to take in, and Illya had a headache.  He was going to personally tear the suit apart and feed it to sharks... No, that would involved the ocean.  He would deliver it to the zoo and let them find an appropriately ravenous creature.

“Hmmm...”

“What?”   Illya didn’t realize he had said anything.

“You said hmmm.”  Napoleon was aware of his partner's approaching grey mood.  Not yet black, but grey was a grim precursor to that dark place.

“Oh, I only... ‘ he sighed.  “I was thinking how your suit had caused me all of the trouble up on that catwalk.  In truth, I would not have had you encounter it either, so... “

“Danger lurks everywhere regardless of our clothing.  I’m sorry to have made such a big deal over it.”  Napoleon realized that his habits sometimes cost the Russian, whether it be a new suit or a new woman.  He really ought to take better care of his partner.

“Just the same, I am fine and ... sorry about your suit.”  A slow smile appeared as he remembered throwing up on Napoleon.  Sometimes a suit was just a suit.

“Yeah... well, c’est la vie.  I’ll just submit my expense report and then have a new one made.  At least you’re okay, tovarisch.  You really are worth more than suit, just so you know.”  He winked and smiled.  They were both alive and had some things to attend to back at headquarters.

Illya stopped off at Medical while Napoleon continued on to the gym to shower and change clothes.  It wouldn’t do to show up in Mr. Waverly’s office with a suit full of ... well, it wouldn’t do.

Within the hour each man had made his way up to the office of Alexander Waverly and were seated across from the Old Man.  His attention was on a file he was reading.  Napoleon had on a fresh change of clothes and Illya had a prescription.  The blood work ordered by Dr.McGinnis would be finished by the time this meeting was completed, and Illya just wanted to go home and sleep.  He was still feeling the effects of the drug, or whatever it had been.  He noticed his vision was slightly blurred, and as he attempted to focus on the papers in front of him, napoleon was watching and taking note of the difficult his friend seemed to having as he attempted to read.

“Are you all right?  You seem to be struggling with that paper?”  Illya shook his head and Mr. Waverly looked up from his file.

“What’s that?  Are you not cleared by Medical, Mr. Kuryakin?”  Illya looked shocked.  He was fine, it was just.... No, something was wrong.  The room was spinning and there were two Napoleons as he looked at his  partner.

“I... No, I... “  He passed out onto the table. Napoleon was hovering over Illya, searching for a pulse as Mr. Waverly called for Medical personnel to get to his office immediately.

“Illya... Illya!”  No response.  Napoleon was still trying to find a pulse.

“It’s thready, but there.  Just barely.  What happened?  Medical released him, he was supposed to be fine.”

Three men with a gurney burst through the doorway as the pneumatic doors opened up.  Armed with hypodermics and oxygen, they began to work on the ailing Russian; pulling his tie open and then his shirt, one medic searched for a pulse while the other prepared an IV line filled with saline solution.

Waverly’s phone rang.

“Yes, what the ... What are you saying?... I see.  Find it doctor.  Yes, goodbye.”

Waverly put down his phone and looked first at Napoleon, then at Illya.  His eyes remained just a few seconds on the blond agent, partly obscured by the medical people working on him.  After about ten minutes one of the medics turned to speak.

“He is stable, for now.  We got the lab results in just as you alerted us to this incident.  Mr. Kuryakin was exposed to a virus that acts instantly upon contact with a human host.  It has a very short lifespan outside of its hosted environment, is mostly killed by contact with the air.  The fact that Mr. Kuryakin had this device right in front of him,, well... “

Napoleon was impatient.

“Well what?  What are you trying to tell us?”  He dreaded hearing it, but somehow Illya’s life was more in danger now than it had been up on that catwalk.

“What I’m saying, Mr. Solo, is that Mr. Kuryakin has a very small chance of surviving this, seeing that his exposure was in such close proximity.’ The young man’s enthusiasm over his subject was tempered by a genuine sense of loss should Kuryakin die.  He knew these agents risked their lives regularly; but to die like this...

“We will do whatever we can, Mr. Solo, Mr. Wavelry.”

With that he finished the last restraint on the gurney and turned around to begin the journey back to Medical.

Napoleon had to wonder if he would ever get a chance to speak to his friend again.


To Be Continued...