Author: Athea (athea@netexpress.net)
Fandom: Man from Uncle
Title: Demons Below, part six
Pairing: Illya Kuryakin and Napoleon Solo
Summary: Their trip Below is quite illuminating.
Date: 18 August 2001
 

The Tunnels were quite amazing but then so were its unique denizens.   Illya rested on top a stool by a table laden with maps.  Vincent was  tracing a route that they used to reach the south side of the city.   His attention at the moment was on the nail that extended slightly  from the finger before him, not quite a claw but much harder and  narrower than his own.  He wondered if he had to clip them often or  perhaps used a steel file to blunt them.

"Illya?"  The leonine head tilted questioningly towards him.

"Sorry, Vincent, I got distracted.  May I ask you a personal  question?"  Blue eyes met blue for a moment before Vincent nodded.   "Thank you.  Did Mr. Wells ever search for your mother after he found  you?"

"The winter was a severe one and just staying alive took most of our  people's time and energy.  But some of those more comfortable with the  outer world did inquire at the hospital about births . . . and deaths.  Nothing was ever discovered.  I am afraid that Twelfth Night that  year was a time of mystery."  The slight shrug of the massive  shoulders told Illya more than anything else of how accepting the  gentle man was of the unknown past.

"Do you want to know or is the past simply that - the past?"  Illya  could see the slight shimmer of blue over Vincent's left shoulder that  he'd been determinedly not looking directly at.  It was the soft blue  of morning glories at dawn or the sea on a calm day.

"For myself, I have a slight curiosity but for Catherine's sake," he  sighed and dropped his eyes to the map unrolled before them.  "If  Catherine and I are to continue down this frightening path of love, I  wish to know that I won't hurt her even unknowingly."

Illya smiled and touched lightly the hand before him.  "Love is indeed  a rather scary notion but one that none of us can live without.  I  tried, my friend.  But it is the pain of not loving that is truly  frightening.  I thought I was unlovable and Napoleon showed me that I  was wrong.  If you will give me the date of your birth, I will quietly  do some research and present the findings to you."

Vincent nodded slowly and told him the date.  Illya made a mental note  and then changed the subject.  They were hard at work tracing  alternate routes to the docks when Vincent looked up and smiled.  A  moment later, Catherine and Napoleon entered the map room.  The petite  blonde came to Vincent's side instantly just as his partner came to  his.  Illya wondered if acute hearing was the answer or just a bond so  strong that it kept them tethered to each other.

But Napoleon was coming to stand right next to him, invading his  personal space and releasing the scent that Illya craved above all  others.  The husky voice told him that Napoleon was still a little  uncertain.  "Find out anything?"

"We have just begun but I fear that THRUSH is indeed preparing to move  in."  Illya leaned ever so slightly into the arm next to him.  "How is  Mr. Waverly getting along with Mr. Wells?"

"It was pretty frosty for a while until they discovered that they both  love to play chess.  When we left them half an hour ago, it looked  like the battle lines were being drawn."  He returned the gesture and  upped it with a slow licking of his lips.

Illya smiled and let his hand gently tap on the back of Napoleon's  hand, rubbing lightly in concentric circles.  "That sounds promising,  Pasha.  Perhaps then we will not be missed when Vincent takes us on a  visit to one of their scenic wonders?"

"The Falls, Vincent?"  Catherine asked excitedly and Illya watched her  try to squeeze a little more of her lover.  "We could take a picnic  basket with us.  I'll go ask William."  And in a flash she was off.

Napoleon chuckled.  "She has a lot of energy to burn.  My  congratulations, Vincent."

The leonine man blushed and dropped his head just enough to let his  hair become a shield for his embarrassment.  "Catherine is my greatest  blessing."

Illya leaned harder into his lover's arm.  "Does she have any belief  in the paranormal, Vincent?"

The blond head tilted inquiringly.  "No, Illya, not even when given  proof.  Why?"

Napoleon had given in and brought his arm around him completely,  rubbing Illya's upper arm with soothing strokes.  Illya sighed a  little and opened himself to that other realm that seemed to be his  peculiar gift.  Impressions of youth and shining beauty overlaid with  sadness so great it would have crushed less blithe a spirit, came into  his mind.  An urgent need to tell him something beat at the walls of  his defenses but the match was not there.

He could not bring their mind together like he had with young Willim.

"Illya?"  Napoleon's voice sounded agitated and he came back into the  worldly realm with a rush that jarred him.
"Pasha, I'm all right."  Illya opened his eyes and blinked into his  partner's concerned gaze.  "I'm just a little dizzy.  I think it just
be time for lunch."

Dark eyes told him with just the lift of an eyebrow that he hadn't  been believed.  "Then it's a good thing that Catherine went to get a  picnic basket.  How far is it to the Falls, Vincent?"

"About half an hour's walk, Mr. Solo.  If the two of you would like to  start, you follow the 'f' corridors at each junction.  I will help  Catherine carry down our lunch."  Vincent divided his look between  them and Illya could almost see his brain piecing together what had  just happened.

"Good idea, Vincent."  Illya slid off the stool and stood swaying a  moment before his sense of balance came back.  "Let us start,  Napoleon."

"Stubborn."  Napoleon muttered and followed him from the map room,  staying close to him and grabbing a lantern from the outer wall to  light their way.

Illya kept a close eye on the walls of the tunnel they were in.   Manmade not natural and yet they had been fashioned by the people of  over a hundred years ago.  At the first junction, they studied the  chiseled letters and took the left-hand corridor.  He noticed the  difference at once.  Rushing water over a very long space of time had  hollowed out this pathway.

The cool air seemed to follow him and he shivered a little even though  he was wearing three layers.  Napoleon looked at him sharply.  "We  should have worn another layer or two.  I wondered why everybody was  so heavily dressed and now I know why."

"I'm fine, Pasha, just a little chill."  Illya let his hand stray to  his partners and sighed at the warmth of Napoleon's hand.

"It's just a damn good thing that I'm the hot-blooded one in this  partnership."  He chided him gently but kept hold of his hand.

"I thank God for you every day, Pasha."  Illya walked a little closer  to him and enjoyed the warm air that seemed to always surround him.

"I do too, Illyusha.  Now, are you going to tell me what happened back  there?"

Illya sighed.  "I tried to mesh with Vincent's guardian but it didn't  work.  And if Catherine doesn't believe in the supernatural then she  won't be able to either."

"Damn it, Illya, you need to tell me before you try that."  Napoleon  was plainly upset and his grip tightened on the hand in his.  "What if  something had gone wrong and we couldn't reach you?"

"I am fine, Pasha.  Lunch will replenish any energy I might have lost  in my attempt."  Illya returned the squeeze.  "Vincent needs to know  from whom he came if they are ever to consummate the bond I see  shining between them.  It's beautiful to see the golden cords woven so  strongly between them.  But he will never give into the passion unless  he knows that he won't hurt her."

"So now we're advisors to the lovelorn?"  Napoleon scowled at him.

Illya just smiled up at him.  "Who better than a pair of lovers who  also face a disbelieving world?"

The scowl quickly faded to the soft look Illya loved seeing on his  lover's face.  It was the one that made him look ridiculously young  and at peace with the world around him.  The quick hard kiss that  followed warmed him all the way down to his toes.  Then they were  continuing towards the sound that had been on the periphery of their  hearing for the last few minutes.

Walking through the opening cut in stone, they entered a fantasy  world.  The three falls seemed to cascade for miles through the mist  filled air.  The sound roared in their ears with quiet thunder.  Moss  covered rocks led up to a stone wall at the edge of what appeared to  be a cliff.  Illya wasn't even surprised to find an elderly woman  sitting there as if she was waiting for them.

"Hello, Illya, Vincent has spoken of you.  My name is Mary."  The  madonna's face was lined with the wrinkles of many hard years and yet  he thought her tranquillity was real and hard-won.

"Mary, it is a pleasure to meet you."  Illya sat by her side, aware  that Napoleon had followed him down.  "Have you seen her then, by  Vincent's side?"

"Since I walked him night after night when Jacob first brought him  below, I've felt her presence near him.  I would open myself to her  but it was as if an invisible door stood between us and neither of us  could open it."  The faded blue eyes searched his.  "You are the one."

Illya nodded.  "I can not quite touch her but I can open that door for  her to come through if you will allow her to speak with your voice."

"Yes, those poor two children deserve to know the truth about their  love and Vincent's origins."  Mary nodded decisively.  "They're coming  now."

"Pasha, I need you to loan me your strength when I open myself."   Illya looked into his lover's eyes and saw the fear there.  "I promise  that nothing will happen that will hurt any of us.  I'll just be  loaning my energy to her."

"You're sure?"  Napoleon asked before nodding in resignation.  "I'll  watch your back."

"Thank you, Pasha."  Illya leaned in and kissed him tenderly, needing  a quick reassurance of his own connections before opening himself to a  strange spirit.

Napoleon gave him his strength immediately and with passion that might  have grown too fast but for the sounds of Catherine's laughter.  They  broke apart slowly and Napoleon made sure that Illya was steady before  letting him go.  Mary smiled on them and looked up in time to greet  the last two of their party.

"Mary, how nice that you're here."  Catherine smiled happily.   "William packed enough food for an army so you can help us eat it  all."

Vincent nodded slowly, his eyes moving between them with questioning  eyes.  They sat down and began to unpack their lunch.  Conversation  was general with Mary telling tales from Vincent's childhood while  Catherine hung on every word.  After they had eaten and were sitting  half-reclined against the stones and each other, Vincent asked the  question that Illya had been waiting for.

"Why did you ask about Catherine's belief in the paranormal, Illya?"   Those blue eyes were soft as if already in wonder at the answer.

"Ever since we met, Vincent, I've seen a shimmer of blue behind your  left shoulder.  Since my years in the gulag, I have been able to see  the . . . others who live beside us."  Illya chose his words carefully  knowing what a shock this would be for Catherine.  He felt Napoleon  giving him his strength right behind him.  "I believe it to be your  mother who is watching over you.  I can not reach her and be her  conduit but Mary can and has said that she is willing.  Do you want to  know?"

This silence was filled with emotion and Illya watched the leonine man  he'd been so drawn to, pull into himself.  Catherine looked angry and  anxious at the same time.  But she stayed silent, pressing against him  as if to give him her strength.  Mary watched them all with her gentle  smile and Illya decided that she already knew his answer when she  touched his arm and nodded.

"Yes," the whisper could barely be heard over the roar of the Falls.

Illya nodded once, settling back against Napoleon and holding out his  hand to Mary.  Closing his eyes, he opened himself, as he hadn't ever  thought to do again.  The tingling energy of the falling water felt  like fuzzy tendrils bearing him up under the weight of the past that  rushed at him.  Using the image of a door, he opened it and braced  against the weight of memories.

"Ah, me beautiful boy, how I've longed to tell you how much I love  you."  The lilting Irish tones fell on his ears faintly from the
distant space he now inhabited.  "Vincent is a fine name though not  the one I had picked out.  You were Herne's son from the moment I knew  that I was quickening with new life.  My miracle child and heart's  promise, I called you when I awoke from our loving alone."

"Mother?"

"Eileen O'Shaunessy, little love, that was the name they gave me at my  birth.  I was the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter so the family  always knew that I wasn't meant for the usual.  It was at Beltane in  my seventeenth year that I first walked between the worlds.  Leaping  the fire, I landed in what I suppose you might call a parallel world,  Herne's world, the world of faerie and legend."

"Parallel universes?"  Catherine's voice wavered between scorn and  disbelief.

"She's a feisty one, Vincent, you'll need a strong hand with her."   Mary/Eileen chuckled.  "She reminds me of meself in some ways.  You've  already met Kristopher, Catherine so you're aware that more exists  than just what you can see and touch.  Your children will need both of  your best selves.  Vincent will give them the touch of fantasy and  Catherine will be giving them the knowledge of the world and the way  it works.  Neither one is more important than the other."

"Mother, what happened?"  Vincent asked quietly.

"Devil's work, my son.  When me grandfather knew that I carried a  child, he shipped me off to this great cold city of yours to stay with  my Aunt Bridgett until you were born.  She was a great believer in  sin, that one and me being unwed meant that I was a sinner in need of  shriving.  The last four months I carried you inside of me were some  of the most miserable in my life.  She prayed over me day and night  keeping me locked in the back bedroom of her apartment.  Father  O'Connor was just like her and between the two of them I was like to  go crazy."

Mary/Eileen sighed and wiped away a tear.  "When labor started, Aunt  Bridgett wouldn't get a doctor for me for fear he'd know my shame.   But when it looked like we might both die, she let the midwife in.   I'd been losing blood steadily and had no more strength to push when  she finally saw your wee head crowning.  With the very last of my  will, I felt you slide from me.  Aunt Bridgett gasped and fled the  room while I whispered to the nice woman who was holding you.  She lay  you in my arms  and you wailed like the banshee was after you.  I saw  that you were truly Herne's son and so I named you to her."

Illya could feel the emotions pouring through the link he was holding  open and he trembled with the pain of loss.

"She nodded and I begged her to get you away to a safe place while my  aunt was gone.  She'd have named you demon's child if she could and I  feared for your life.  I already knew that I was dying and wouldn't be  there to protect you from them.  She hesitated only a moment before  wrapping you in me nightshirt and taking you down the fire escape.   Not a moment too soon, either.  Me aunt and Father O'Connor burst into  the room as if the hounds of hell were at their heels but all they  found was me a'lying there almost dead of blood loss."  Mary/Eileen  took a deep breath.  "It was not your fault, my beautiful son.   Nothing you did ever hurt me, 'twas the primitive conditions and Aunt  Bridgett who signed me death warrant.  The priest gave me last rites  before they left me alone to die."

Catherine was crying against Vincent's shoulder and he was weeping  slowly, the tears running down his furry cheeks.

"I never gave them a second thought then for me spirit was so light  that I felt like dancing around the room.  And that's when he found me  after searching long and far.  Your father and my only love, Herne,  the hunter."

"Herne?  As in the antler headed god from Celtic myth?"  Vincent  looked a little dazed.

"Aye, the laws in some of the parallel worlds that exist on Earth vary  from line to line.  When I leaped over the bonfire at Beltane, I leapt  into his world.  He was a fearsome sight when we first met in his  sacred grove but I soon saw into the heart of him and when we loved,  he was gentle as could be with me virgin self.  But the rules of our  worlds gave us only a single night before parting."

Illya was tiring but he wanted some answers himself and he stirred a  bit to draw attention to their current situation.

"The Gatekeeper is growing tired, children.  Know only that Herne came  for me while I was dying and in the moment of death, your world's  rules ceased to affect me.  Now I am safe and loved in his world.   Travel is not quite forbidden for us since the ties of mother and  child hold strong no matter when we are.  There is great danger coming  to the Tunnels.  The Gatekeeper will know what to do.  Guard him  closely, children, for he is the door and he holds the key that will  save your world."

"Know that we love you, Vincent.  You were the first of our beloved  children and all of your brothers and sisters send you their love,  too.  We will speak again, little one.  I love you."  And the door  closed in Illya's mind while he slumped against Napoleon.

"Illya!"

He was so cold.  He could feel Napoleon holding him tight, frantically  frictioning his hands but nothing seemed to be working.  Then a thick  layer of warmth covered him and he felt Vincent's hands cradling his  head while it felt like the entire power of the Falls rushed through  him.  His eyes snapped open and met the shining blue gaze of Herne's  son.

"Thank you, Illya.  Rest now.  We can talk later."  Vincent ordered  softly and Illya slipped into a deep sleep, still feeling Napoleon's  hands holding him close.

**************
He was cradled in strong arms under a heavy weight that spoke of  comfort and love.  Illya thought back to what he last remembered and  his eyes popped open to see Napoleon's dark head on the same pillow.   The arms around him were his and the great weight was what appeared to  be five or six quilts.  The room was cool but their bed was nice and  toasty.

"Illya, how do you feel?"  Napoleon's eyes had popped open and he  smiled up into the beloved face.

"I am fine.  Whatever it was that Vincent did, worked.  I'm tired but  no longer drained.  How is Mary?"  Illya suddenly remembered the  gentle woman who'd been Eileen's voice.

"She's fine.  It didn't drain her . . . only you."  Napoleon looked  stormy.

"It's because I was holding open the door.  I didn't realize that it  wasn't the simple door between living and dead but the gate between  the worlds."  Illya shrugged.  "I'll know next time."

"There won't be a next time, Illyusha.  Somebody else can take over  this job.  I don't want you anywhere near this whole damn thing."   Napoleon was adamant.

"We may not have a choice, Pasha.  For better or for worse, I'm the  only Gatekeeper we have.  And the danger isn't just for the Tunnel  dwellers but for all of us.  THRUSH has plans that we need to thwart."  Illya snuggled closer and let his hands wander over Napoleon's skin.

"Damn.  I was afraid that would occur to you."  Napoleon pushed him  onto his back and glared down at Illya.

"Make love to me, Pasha.  Remind me how lucky we are to love each  other."  Illya allowed all of his love to show on his face and he  watched Napoleon's face crumble.  "Hush, love, we'll be all right.  I  promise that we'll be just fine."

And Illya hoped that he was right.