Title - The Unforeseen Consequences Affair
By Ceindreadh
Chapter 4
I should have stayed at headquarters
Disclaimer - Sadly I don't own any of the characters, but if I ask real nicely
then maybe I'll be allowed to borrow them from MGM.
Rating - PG-13 (because the characters just wouldn't let me make it higher rated)
Archive - If you like it, sure.
Previously on The Man from UNCLE -
A seemingly straightforward 'information retrieval' assignment turned out to be
a trap. Napoleon narrowly escaped death when Illya managed to push him out of
the way of a booby-trapped filing cabinet. Napoleon escaped with minor bruising,
but his main concern was for his partner who had been rendered unconscious by
the blast.
To his shock, he found out that Illya had been blinded by the explosion, and the
doctors were unable to predict whether his condition would be permanent or not.
After a few days without any improvement, Illya insisted that he be allowed to
leave, maintaining that he could take care of himself, even if his enemies tried
to take advantage of his injured state.
Napoleon insisted on having Illya stay at his apartment so he could protect him,
and try to assuage the guilt he felt over his injury.
After a meal, Illya was so tired that he fell asleep in his clothes.
Rather than wake his friend, Napoleon carefully removed his shoes and loosened
his shirt, before tucking a blanket gently around him. Brushing the blond hair
out of Illya's face, he noted with relief that the lines of pain had eased somewhat.
"Goodnight my friend," he said softly, his hand brushing over Illya's as he smoothed
the blanket. "Pleasant dreams."
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Mindful of Mr. Waverly's warnings about possible attacks, Napoleon made sure that
the recently installed security system was fully armed before he too retired for
the night. But he didn't find it as easy to fall asleep as Illya did. Staring
at the ceiling, he wondered how he would have coped had their positions been reversed.
Finally after what seemed like hours, he fell into an uneasy sleep, only to be
woken abruptly by the sound of his security alarm, which was blaring loudly.
"Illya!" he thought as he jumped out of the bed.
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Grabbing his gun, Napoleon hurried to the door. In spite of his concern for Illya,
he was too good an agent to simply rush blindly into the unknown. Ignoring the
sound of the alarm echoing through the apartment, he concentrated on moving carefully
down the corridor. Reaching the living room without incident, in fact without
any sign of intruders, Napoleon paused. He wondered if the alarm had scared off
whoever it was had triggered the security system. Granted, THRUSH agents were
unlikely to let a little noise deter them, but there was always the possibility
of a common or garden burglar who had been stupid enough to pick on his apartment.
A quick glance around told him that the front door was still shut, and all visible
windows seemed to be unbroken. Finally, he made his way to the control panel,
concealed behind a picture and switched off the alarm. The sudden silence was
almost deafening, but Napoleon's trained ears could hear a muffled noise coming
from a darkened corner.
Turning around quickly, he brought his gun up in one fluid motion, ready to fire
at the figure he saw almost hidden in the shadows. "Throw down your weapon and
stand up slowly," he ordered the figure, which was crouched in a corner. "And
keep your hands where I can see them." The figure showed no signs of having heard
him. Napoleon moved slowly towards the figure, which appeared to have his hands
clasped firmly over his ears. It wasn't until Napoleon was closer that he recognized
the blond shock of hair. "Illya?" he gasped, as he hurried to his side and crouched
down beside him. "What happened?" Putting one hand on his friend's shoulder to
turn him around, Napoleon was taken by surprise when Illya turned and hit out
at him.
By pure luck, Illya's fist crashed straight into Napoleon's face and knocked him
off balance. The gun went flying from his hand and slid across the floor. Momentarily
stunned, Napoleon watched as Illya stumbled past him. It wasn't just the punch
in the face that was causing his temporary daze; it was the look of abject terror
on Illya's face as he had pushed blindly past his partner. Napoleon watched him;
Illya stumbled into a chair and went crashing heavily to the ground.
Before Illya could recover, Napoleon had pulled his wits together and caught up
with him, pushing him back down to the ground as he tried to crawl away. "ILLYA,"
yelled Napoleon in the Russian's ear. "It's okay...it's me, Napoleon...you're
safe..." It took a few seconds for Napoleon to get through to Illya, but finally
the younger man stopped struggling against him.
Wrapping his arms round his friend, Napoleon could feel Illya's whole body trembling
as he pulled him up to a seated position against the wall.
"Napoleon?" Illya's voice was unsteady, and he clutched at Napoleon's arms as
if for reassurance that it was indeed his friend and not the unknown assassin
he had feared when the hand had landed on his shoulder.
"It's me...you're safe...you're in my apartment, you're safe," Napoleon repeated.
He could hear Illya's breathing return to a more regular rhythm. Finally, when
he judged that his friend was calmer, he loosened his grip on him slightly.
Illya lay silent, his head resting on Napoleon's chest. The feeling of his friend's
comforting arms around him, made him feel much safer, so when he felt those arms
move away, he instinctively clutched at them to keep them in place.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked finally.
"What?" asked Napoleon, momentarily confused. "Oh, the punch? No, you barely touched
me."
"I'm so sorry, Napoleon. I...I didn't know it was you...I couldn't see anything,
and the noise...I thought it was an attack...I woke up and I was in this room...and
I couldn't see anything...and I didn't know why, and when I tried to feel my way
around the room, the alarm started going off and I just...I just couldn't move..."
Illya swallowed hard, remembering the panic he had felt as the siren had almost
deafened him. As it had echoed through his skull, his only thought had been to
try and get away from it, and when the hand had grabbed him, he had reacted without
thinking.
"Shh," said Napoleon, reassuringly. "It's all right. It's my fault for switching
on the alarm in the first place. You must have tripped a sensor by accident."
"I am a danger to you and myself," said Illya quietly. "I should have stayed at
headquarters."
"No!" said Napoleon, firmly.
"But it is true. I...I panicked...I forgot all my training...all I could think
about was getting away. I could have seriously injured you."
"Shh, but you didn't," said Napoleon.
"But I could have," said Illya, softly.
"But you *didn't*..." Napoleon instinctively pulled Illya closer to him. "And
if you had...it would have been no more than I deserved."
"Napoleon..."
Napoleon interrupted him; "I was the one who missed that booby trap and I was
the one who set it off...it should have been me that got caught in the blast,
not you."
Illya shrugged. "Believe me when I say that I was not *intending* to get caught
by the blast. Had I reacted faster, then both of us would have escaped. Napoleon,
what has happened has happened, we cannot change it. All we can do is accept it
and move on."
"Are you always this fatalistic?"
"Refusing to accept what has happened will not change it. I...I am blind...possibly
permanently..." Illya swallowed hard before continuing. "But I can still be of
use to UNCLE...if not in my usual capacity. Sometimes it is necessary to settle
for what one can get. And this...it could have been worse...not to be able to
see again is not the worst thing that could have happened."
"No?" thought Napoleon to himself. Personally, he couldn't think of anything worse.
He knew that Illya was right...no matter how unfair it was...some things just
had to be accepted...but he secretly resolved that the next chance he got, he
was going to indulge in a spot of research of his own. Surely there was *something*
that could be done about Illya's condition. True, the UNCLE doctors were highly
trained people, but they weren't perfect...maybe somewhere out there was an eye
specialist who *would* be able to do something more than just tell Illya to just
wait. And if there was something that could be done for his friend, by God, he
was going to find it.
"C'mon partner," he said, finally. "I think we've been sitting here long enough."
Illya felt surprisingly reluctant to leave the safe haven of Napoleon's arms,
even though he knew that there was no danger...not for now anyway. With a stifled
sigh, he moved away from Napoleon who scrambled quickly to his feet, before grabbing
Illya's hand and pulling him up.
Illya stumbled and would have fallen if Napoleon hadn't caught him.
"Easy there," said Napoleon, wrapping his arms round the younger man. "Come on,
let's get you back to bed."
Illya rubbed irritably at his eyes as Napoleon steered him back to the spare room.
"I think I could use some more of that cream the nurse gave me," he said finally.
"My eyes are a little itchy."
Napoleon looked at him with concern. "Your dressings are a little loose. I'll
change them for you."
"Thank you...Nurse Napoleon," said Illya, a note of amusement mixed in with relief.
"Just try to behave a bit better with me than you normally do with your nurses.
I swear that Nurse Finn was almost in tears after you threw her out of the room."
"And I am sure that you were well able to 'comfort her'," commented Illya dryly.
"It's a dirty job, but somebody has to do it. Okay, the bed is just beside you
and to the right," said Napoleon. "I'll just get the medical kit."
Returning with the medical supplies, Napoleon switched on the bedside light so
that he could see what he was doing. This was not something that he wanted to
make a mistake with. Pulling up a chair, he sat in front of Illya, and carefully
peeled away the sweat soaked dressings.
"Ouch," yelped Illya as the adhesive tugged at his skin.
"Sorry," said Napoleon, turning away to drop the used dressings in the bin. When
he turned back to Illya, the Russian had his hand up in front of his eyes. "What's
wrong?"
"The light...it's too bright," said Illya.
Napoleon was reaching out to direct the light away from Illya's face, when the
words suddenly hit him. "Illya? What did you just say?" He held his breath, hardly
daring to believe what he had just heard.
"I said..." Illya stopped as he just realized what he had said. "The light...Napoleon,
I can see a light!" He blinked his eyes open again and tried to focus on the shape
in front of him. It was fuzzy and definitely not 20/20...but there was no mistaking
the familiar face of his partner. "Napoleon," he said softly, reaching out to
brush his hand against Napoleon's face, almost to reassure himself that he wasn't
imagining things.
Napoleon caught the hand and held it there. "Welcome back old friend," he said,
quietly, the relief evident in both his voice and his face.
Napoleon wanted to bring Illya back to headquarters to get Dr. Harte to check
him over once more, but Illya had refused. He did however agree to Napoleon phoning
UNCLE to inform the doctor of the change in his condition, and reluctantly agreed
to be brought in the following day to be re-assessed.
"I suppose they will be poking and prodding and testing me all day," grumbled
Illya, sleepily as he curled up on the spare bed.
"Probably," smiled Napoleon, "Promise you'll behave this time?"
Illya made a dismissive gesture. "Maybe," he said, with an evil grin.
"Sleep well, my friend," said Napoleon, as he moved towards the door.
"Napoleon?" said Illya, softly.
"Yes, Illya?"
"The worst thing...worse than not being able to see...ever..." Illya was silent
for so long that Napoleon wondered if he had fallen asleep, when finally he continued,
"It would have been never to see...to see *you* again...tovarish..."
Napoleon rested his head against the doorframe. When his emotions were finally
under control, and he was sure that his voice was steady, he said softly, "Goodnight
tovarish," and closed the door on his sleeping partner.
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The End
Ceindreadh