A New Story-Chapter 7
Nov. 10th, 2014 10:45 am![[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.
Link to Chapter 1-http://archiveofourown.org/works/2563967/chapters/5701682
Link to Chapter 2-http://archiveofourown.org/works/2563967/chapters/5717075
Link to Chapter 3-http://archiveofourown.org/works/2563967/chapters/5726660
Link to Chapter 4-http://archiveofourown.org/works/2563967/chapters/5738429
Link to Chapter 5-http://archiveofourown.org/works/2563967/chapters/5749601
Link to Chapter 6-http://archiveofourown.org/works/2563967/chapters/5763461
Chapter 7
Three missions, two round trip plane rides and one ruined suit later, the two partners sat side by side at the bar, back at their favorite watering hole.
It was too early for the Monday dinner crowd and the music in the place was just loud enough to mask their conversation.
Solo nursed his second glass of top shelf single malt scotch and Kuryakin sipped on his third ice cold draught beer. The cheese and fruit platter they ordered was long gone. Illya devoured the last of the pretzels and was eyeing a bowl of peanuts a few empty stools away.
Napoleon tried during the last few weeks to get Illya to open up about the shooting incident. Little by little, his partner and friend seemed more like himself and was quicker to smile or offer a bit of dry humor that was his usual style. Solo’s instincts told him this still wasn’t over yet.
Physically Illya looked better but there was an uneasiness about him and still a hint of sadness behind those blue eyes.
The American was keenly aware of his rather complex partner’s ability to set aside his emotions; a skill that made him a better enforcement agent. Eventually those emotions would boil up to the surface as anger or sadness, both of which were now occurring on a fairly regular basis.
While sharing a hotel room when out of town on assignments this past month, Solo was a first hand witness to the ‘wake up shaking’ nightmares that his partner was experiencing. Illya flatly refused to talk about them at the time.
Napoleon could handle the anger. It was the constant melancholia that was a problem in their down time. The frequency of the nightmares eventually lessened, but Illya was still having them.
He wanted to help his friend find a way to put this whole affair behind him and move on, and perhaps now, in this relaxed setting and after a few beers in him, his partner just might talk about it.
“You never told me how your psych eval went?” Solo broke the ice as he observed Kuryakin return with the other snack.
He knew full well that Illya toyed with shrinks like a cat using a dead mouse as a plaything.
“There was a new psychiatrist. I think he had to change his trousers after I left his office,” Illya said with a sly grin.
“No wonder there’s such a high turnover rate down there,” Solo smirked.
He turned to face his partner and continued now that he had his foot in the door.
“You’re sleeping a little better. Nightmares letting up?”
Illya rolled his eyes and groaned.
“You might as well tell me about them. I’m not going to let up on this until you do,” Napoleon said with a determined look, trying to crack open that safe again.
Illya shrugged his shoulders, rubbed his eyes and sighed. He knew this discussion would be coming. They’d been dancing around the issue ever since his reinstatement. Perhaps now was the time to cast off some of this burden his stoic Soviet nature forced him to carry alone.
‘Napoleon knows it’s time talk about it,’ Illya thought to himself, ‘why don’t I?’
He felt his persistent partner’s eyes on him, waiting for an answer, so he decided to start by sharing his dreams.
“My nightmares always begin the same. I find myself back at that barn, only now the highway is much closer and I see the girl in the back seat of the car, watching me.”
He turned and faced Napoleon.
“Sometimes I wait just a fraction of a second too long to fire; she dies anyway and you end up wounded or dead. Other times I reach for my Special, find my holster’s empty and you shoot her. The car drives on.”
No matter what he did in his nightmare, this outcome was always the same.
He withheld one portion. Napoleon would never know about the worst part of his dream; that which would forever be etched in Illya’s memory though it was only imagined; how he watched in horror as his bullet struck that tiny child and ended her life in an instant, how he watched her eyes turn lifeless as blood trickled down from her temple and how he heard the anguish in her mother’s screams.
“Now you’re worried about hesitating.” Napoleon’s interruption was welcomed as it startled Illya back into the present.
The blond swallowed hard and nodded.
There are many factors that an enforcement agent has to take into consideration when discharging a firearm, proximity to fellow agents, flammable substances, the decision to wound or kill or even the noise that the gun would make and draw attention to oneself, just to name a few. Of course in a kill or be killed scenario the decision has to be instantaneous.
Solo knew that second guessing one’s self in this business could be hazardous or fatal for any agent in the field. Certainly, Illya was not just any agent and had proven his marksmanship was spot-on in their latest assignments. As CEA if he felt his partner wasn’t performing to his usual standards; he’d send him back to psych for treatment in a heartbeat.
“Your hesitating hasn’t been a problem on our missions since Montville. In fact Illya, I’ve never known you to hesitate. That’s one reason we remain relatively intact and we’re both still alive.”
Napoleon paused before injecting a bit of sarcasm into the conversation.
“If you’re really concerned about it I can arrange for a little remedial training with Jules Cutter at Survival School.”
“You’d just love to send me back there!” Illya shook his head, shooting him an icy glance.The smaller agent tensed momentarily, then to Solo’s relief laughed out loud, realizing it was a joke; typical Solo humor.
Illya shook his head and he rolled his eyes; typical Kuryakin disapproval. Napoleon’s hearty laugh proved to be a tension breaker, for a moment anyway.
“Mark saw you leaving the chapel a few days ago. Don’t bite his head off for letting me know about it, but he’s concerned for you too. A lot of people are.”
Solo raised his eyebrows, waiting to see if one more tumbler would fall into place, still hoping to crack Illya’s safe.
He was well aware that his friend was an atheist and it was thought it highly unusual for him to go to U.N.C.L.E.’s non-denominational sanctuary.
“This whole situation is new to me Napoleon. I wanted to...” the blond paused, suddenly being at a loss for words. He watched his partner carefully for any reaction as he continued.
“Don’t be upset, but sometimes it’s easier to talk with someone you don’t know and I’d never met the chaplain before,” he hesitated again. “I’m not quite sure how to explain. It felt safe? She does grief and crisis counseling.”
He sighing before continuing. “Not having been able to come in contact with the little girl’s family; she showed me another way. I didn’t know how to get past the guilt and between the two of us we came up with a fairly decent plan. Talking with you about this is part of it.”
“Hmmm...a ‘she?’ Solo chided. “Good looking? Single? Did you ask her out?”
Illya smirked at his partner’s response, obviously peeved. “Bozhe moy Napoleon! I went there for help, not a date!”
“Seriously my friend, I’m glad you spoke with someone,” Napoleon said sincerely, but asked, “And the other part?”
Illya turned back to the bar, staring into his now empty glass.
He had taken a three year old’s life. She would never again run and play, be excited about her first day of school or hug her mother and father. Nor would she grow up to become a woman with hopes, dreams and perhaps a child of her own.
A life wasted.
It was entirely unintentional but he was responsible just the same.
The second part of the plan was something he had to do alone and not all of the details had been worked out yet. Before he left his meeting with the chaplain she suggested he find his own way to make it personal. He knew it would bring him the closure that was necessary to move on.
He just needed a little more time.
“No Napoleon...that’s private.”
Solo nodded and gave his partner a pat on the back.
“And Napoleon?” Illya asked softly.
“Hmmmm?”
“Thanks again.”
With that being said, their conversation about the friendly fire incident was finished, and they ordered another round.
To Be Continued.
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.
Link to Chapter 1-http://archiveofourown.org/works/2563967/chapters/5701682
Link to Chapter 2-http://archiveofourown.org/works/2563967/chapters/5717075
Link to Chapter 3-http://archiveofourown.org/works/2563967/chapters/5726660
Link to Chapter 4-http://archiveofourown.org/works/2563967/chapters/5738429
Link to Chapter 5-http://archiveofourown.org/works/2563967/chapters/5749601
Link to Chapter 6-http://archiveofourown.org/works/2563967/chapters/5763461
Chapter 7
Three missions, two round trip plane rides and one ruined suit later, the two partners sat side by side at the bar, back at their favorite watering hole.
It was too early for the Monday dinner crowd and the music in the place was just loud enough to mask their conversation.
Solo nursed his second glass of top shelf single malt scotch and Kuryakin sipped on his third ice cold draught beer. The cheese and fruit platter they ordered was long gone. Illya devoured the last of the pretzels and was eyeing a bowl of peanuts a few empty stools away.
Napoleon tried during the last few weeks to get Illya to open up about the shooting incident. Little by little, his partner and friend seemed more like himself and was quicker to smile or offer a bit of dry humor that was his usual style. Solo’s instincts told him this still wasn’t over yet.
Physically Illya looked better but there was an uneasiness about him and still a hint of sadness behind those blue eyes.
The American was keenly aware of his rather complex partner’s ability to set aside his emotions; a skill that made him a better enforcement agent. Eventually those emotions would boil up to the surface as anger or sadness, both of which were now occurring on a fairly regular basis.
While sharing a hotel room when out of town on assignments this past month, Solo was a first hand witness to the ‘wake up shaking’ nightmares that his partner was experiencing. Illya flatly refused to talk about them at the time.
Napoleon could handle the anger. It was the constant melancholia that was a problem in their down time. The frequency of the nightmares eventually lessened, but Illya was still having them.
He wanted to help his friend find a way to put this whole affair behind him and move on, and perhaps now, in this relaxed setting and after a few beers in him, his partner just might talk about it.
“You never told me how your psych eval went?” Solo broke the ice as he observed Kuryakin return with the other snack.
He knew full well that Illya toyed with shrinks like a cat using a dead mouse as a plaything.
“There was a new psychiatrist. I think he had to change his trousers after I left his office,” Illya said with a sly grin.
“No wonder there’s such a high turnover rate down there,” Solo smirked.
He turned to face his partner and continued now that he had his foot in the door.
“You’re sleeping a little better. Nightmares letting up?”
Illya rolled his eyes and groaned.
“You might as well tell me about them. I’m not going to let up on this until you do,” Napoleon said with a determined look, trying to crack open that safe again.
Illya shrugged his shoulders, rubbed his eyes and sighed. He knew this discussion would be coming. They’d been dancing around the issue ever since his reinstatement. Perhaps now was the time to cast off some of this burden his stoic Soviet nature forced him to carry alone.
‘Napoleon knows it’s time talk about it,’ Illya thought to himself, ‘why don’t I?’
He felt his persistent partner’s eyes on him, waiting for an answer, so he decided to start by sharing his dreams.
“My nightmares always begin the same. I find myself back at that barn, only now the highway is much closer and I see the girl in the back seat of the car, watching me.”
He turned and faced Napoleon.
“Sometimes I wait just a fraction of a second too long to fire; she dies anyway and you end up wounded or dead. Other times I reach for my Special, find my holster’s empty and you shoot her. The car drives on.”
No matter what he did in his nightmare, this outcome was always the same.
He withheld one portion. Napoleon would never know about the worst part of his dream; that which would forever be etched in Illya’s memory though it was only imagined; how he watched in horror as his bullet struck that tiny child and ended her life in an instant, how he watched her eyes turn lifeless as blood trickled down from her temple and how he heard the anguish in her mother’s screams.
“Now you’re worried about hesitating.” Napoleon’s interruption was welcomed as it startled Illya back into the present.
The blond swallowed hard and nodded.
There are many factors that an enforcement agent has to take into consideration when discharging a firearm, proximity to fellow agents, flammable substances, the decision to wound or kill or even the noise that the gun would make and draw attention to oneself, just to name a few. Of course in a kill or be killed scenario the decision has to be instantaneous.
Solo knew that second guessing one’s self in this business could be hazardous or fatal for any agent in the field. Certainly, Illya was not just any agent and had proven his marksmanship was spot-on in their latest assignments. As CEA if he felt his partner wasn’t performing to his usual standards; he’d send him back to psych for treatment in a heartbeat.
“Your hesitating hasn’t been a problem on our missions since Montville. In fact Illya, I’ve never known you to hesitate. That’s one reason we remain relatively intact and we’re both still alive.”
Napoleon paused before injecting a bit of sarcasm into the conversation.
“If you’re really concerned about it I can arrange for a little remedial training with Jules Cutter at Survival School.”
“You’d just love to send me back there!” Illya shook his head, shooting him an icy glance.The smaller agent tensed momentarily, then to Solo’s relief laughed out loud, realizing it was a joke; typical Solo humor.
Illya shook his head and he rolled his eyes; typical Kuryakin disapproval. Napoleon’s hearty laugh proved to be a tension breaker, for a moment anyway.
“Mark saw you leaving the chapel a few days ago. Don’t bite his head off for letting me know about it, but he’s concerned for you too. A lot of people are.”
Solo raised his eyebrows, waiting to see if one more tumbler would fall into place, still hoping to crack Illya’s safe.
He was well aware that his friend was an atheist and it was thought it highly unusual for him to go to U.N.C.L.E.’s non-denominational sanctuary.
“This whole situation is new to me Napoleon. I wanted to...” the blond paused, suddenly being at a loss for words. He watched his partner carefully for any reaction as he continued.
“Don’t be upset, but sometimes it’s easier to talk with someone you don’t know and I’d never met the chaplain before,” he hesitated again. “I’m not quite sure how to explain. It felt safe? She does grief and crisis counseling.”
He sighing before continuing. “Not having been able to come in contact with the little girl’s family; she showed me another way. I didn’t know how to get past the guilt and between the two of us we came up with a fairly decent plan. Talking with you about this is part of it.”
“Hmmm...a ‘she?’ Solo chided. “Good looking? Single? Did you ask her out?”
Illya smirked at his partner’s response, obviously peeved. “Bozhe moy Napoleon! I went there for help, not a date!”
“Seriously my friend, I’m glad you spoke with someone,” Napoleon said sincerely, but asked, “And the other part?”
Illya turned back to the bar, staring into his now empty glass.
He had taken a three year old’s life. She would never again run and play, be excited about her first day of school or hug her mother and father. Nor would she grow up to become a woman with hopes, dreams and perhaps a child of her own.
A life wasted.
It was entirely unintentional but he was responsible just the same.
The second part of the plan was something he had to do alone and not all of the details had been worked out yet. Before he left his meeting with the chaplain she suggested he find his own way to make it personal. He knew it would bring him the closure that was necessary to move on.
He just needed a little more time.
“No Napoleon...that’s private.”
Solo nodded and gave his partner a pat on the back.
“And Napoleon?” Illya asked softly.
“Hmmmm?”
“Thanks again.”
With that being said, their conversation about the friendly fire incident was finished, and they ordered another round.
To Be Continued.
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no subject
Date: 2014-11-10 06:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-10 07:17 pm (UTC)This story is brilliant and I can't believe there's only one more part left.
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Date: 2014-11-10 07:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-10 08:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-10 08:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-10 08:18 pm (UTC)Thank you for your wonderful comments! One more to go.