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Disclaimer:
This page is an unofficial site that exists only for the fun of it. All characters and situations from the television show "The Man from U.N.C.L.E." are property of Norman Felton and Warner Bros. Nothing ill is intended by this use of any television characters in these amateur efforts. Any fiction linked to these pages is the intellectual property of the amateur author who created it and is not presented here for profit.

Classification: T for Teen (or used to be PG-13 or so)

Author's Notes: Just because she's too good to be true, does that
make her a problem?

Time: 1967

Place: New York, San Francisco

Pairing: Unknown

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Giles Faversham looked over his man with a detached sense of déjà vu. He wasn't certain how one achieved that particular state of mind, but he couldn't find another way to describe it either. Royke Darnall stared at the floor having just delivered the news that not only were Winston Rayne and his brat on the island, so were three UNCLE agents.

"This makes a shambles of my time table." Shamble was a mild word. The people he knew were using THRUSH to their own ends terrified him. Seris House was a gamble to get some of them out of his hair and possibly destroyed. He needed Moorecock and his companion alone on the island when THRUSH arrived. That the man and woman would undoubtedly die due to his need for the house and what lay beneath it meant little to him. Sacrifices were made for the greater good all the time.

"Yes, sir."

Why did Darnall's meek acceptance of the chastisement unsettle him?
Why did the subservience of that granite faced assassin seem so wrong?
After all, he was Giles Faversham, second ranked on the THRUSH Council, everyone in THRUSH should be subservient to him, to his wishes. Still, he hated to see Darnall's shoulders slump that way.

"We'll manage."

"Perhaps they could help," Darnall offered quietly. He didn't quite raise his eyes to look at Faversham.

"UNCLE? Help? You've spent too much time in the sun."

That did bring Darnall's head up. He faced his superior's displeasure and outlined his thoughts on the two women. "They're identical. The agent knows me, knows what I've done, knows things she should not know. I know, that sounds like superstitious drivel, but I talked to her. She practically absolved me of the Wind of the Desert's creation as though she truly understood what happened there. Together … I don't know. There is a terrible power there."

Oddly, Faversham did not laugh at him. The older man looked into the dark depths of Darnall's haunted black eyes and saw the truth. The deeply religious Celtic background, not the overlay of modern religions, but the ancient, fey understanding of the Irish, showed in the man's face. Darnall was both awed and frightened of the UNCLE agent, but there was more than that, there was a belief she not only could, but would help them.

"You think I should seek her out? Seek them out?" A mute nod was his answer. "If we fail, there will be no protection for you." Why did he say that? What on earth did he mean by acknowledging that he could and perhaps had protected Darnall? Did the assassin's face really soften slightly at his words?

"I did not ask for your protection." Darnall turned and left with that denial.

"Then what are you asking for?" Faversham asked the empty room.