A new story.
Nov. 3rd, 2014 12:25 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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section7mfuWith heartfelt thanks to mrua7 for praise, encouragement and beta skills.
Friendly Fire is always a possibility in the career of a Section 2 field agent, when it happens; how they deal with it can either make or break them.
Chapter 1
Mr.Waverly’s assistant couldn’t help but scan the police report in her hands before delivering it along with the rest of the daily mail to her boss. After all, it wasn’t marked ‘Eyes Only’ and Lisa Rogers felt it her responsibility to be kept abreast of all the goings on in the chief’s office.
The smile she wore that morning quickly dissolved as she returned to her desk to summon U.N.C.L.E.’s Section 2, Number 2 agent. She nodded to Illya Kuryakin as he stepped through the doors into the heart of headquarters.
How she hated days like this. No one ever wanted to hear bad news. And it was only the beginning of the week...
When he emerged from Waverly’s office twenty minutes later he was white as a ghost. As he paused just outside the door, Lisa wasn’t altogether certain but she thought she saw him begin to tremble. She planned on engaging Kuryakin in a bit of verbal sparring but held her tongue when she saw the vacant look in his eyes.
The Ukrainian moved unfocused through the corridors towards U.N.C.L.E.’s agent exit at Del Floria’s tailor shop.
Fellow agents and secretaries stepped out of his way when they saw his pale face and wide-eyed ‘lost’ expression.
One of his fellow scientists from research and development where he worked in his down time from the field approached and stopped in front of him to ask a question. Illya quietly stepped around him and continued on his way leaving the man to wonder what was wrong.
Mark Slate’s “Good morning, Guv,” as he passed by was flatly ignored.
Illya passed the receptionist without returning his U.N.C.L.E. badge.
“Mr. Kuryakin! I need your badge!” she called. As he opened the outer door and stepped through it into the tailor shop she ran after him, removing it from his suit jacket pocket herself.
“You know you’re not supposed to take this outside of headquarters. What if T.H.R.U.S.H. got ahold of one of these?” she whispered and then wondered what made him so preoccupied that he forgot that.
He never stopped walking nor saw the tailor’s nod and goodbye wave.
He found himself at his apartment. He had no recollection at all of leaving Waverly’s office nor headquarters, nor did he remember how he arrived at his door. Unlocking it, he took a few steps inside.
An anguished sob escaped his lips. His knees gave out.
“No, no, no,” he whispered as he curled up into a ball on the floor.
“Why does my heart feel like it’s in a vise?”
Friendly Fire is always a possibility in the career of a Section 2 field agent, when it happens; how they deal with it can either make or break them.
Chapter 1
Mr.Waverly’s assistant couldn’t help but scan the police report in her hands before delivering it along with the rest of the daily mail to her boss. After all, it wasn’t marked ‘Eyes Only’ and Lisa Rogers felt it her responsibility to be kept abreast of all the goings on in the chief’s office.
The smile she wore that morning quickly dissolved as she returned to her desk to summon U.N.C.L.E.’s Section 2, Number 2 agent. She nodded to Illya Kuryakin as he stepped through the doors into the heart of headquarters.
How she hated days like this. No one ever wanted to hear bad news. And it was only the beginning of the week...
When he emerged from Waverly’s office twenty minutes later he was white as a ghost. As he paused just outside the door, Lisa wasn’t altogether certain but she thought she saw him begin to tremble. She planned on engaging Kuryakin in a bit of verbal sparring but held her tongue when she saw the vacant look in his eyes.
The Ukrainian moved unfocused through the corridors towards U.N.C.L.E.’s agent exit at Del Floria’s tailor shop.
Fellow agents and secretaries stepped out of his way when they saw his pale face and wide-eyed ‘lost’ expression.
One of his fellow scientists from research and development where he worked in his down time from the field approached and stopped in front of him to ask a question. Illya quietly stepped around him and continued on his way leaving the man to wonder what was wrong.
Mark Slate’s “Good morning, Guv,” as he passed by was flatly ignored.
Illya passed the receptionist without returning his U.N.C.L.E. badge.
“Mr. Kuryakin! I need your badge!” she called. As he opened the outer door and stepped through it into the tailor shop she ran after him, removing it from his suit jacket pocket herself.
“You know you’re not supposed to take this outside of headquarters. What if T.H.R.U.S.H. got ahold of one of these?” she whispered and then wondered what made him so preoccupied that he forgot that.
He never stopped walking nor saw the tailor’s nod and goodbye wave.
He found himself at his apartment. He had no recollection at all of leaving Waverly’s office nor headquarters, nor did he remember how he arrived at his door. Unlocking it, he took a few steps inside.
An anguished sob escaped his lips. His knees gave out.
“No, no, no,” he whispered as he curled up into a ball on the floor.
“Why does my heart feel like it’s in a vise?”
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Date: 2014-11-04 03:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-04 04:09 am (UTC)