Napoleon and Illya entered the deserted house guns drawn and all senses on high alert. Nodding curtly to his partner, Illya moved catlike down the hallway to the kitchen and looked around. "Clear," he said softly as he headed back to the front door.
Napoleon immediately moved in the opposite direction and checked what turned out to be the living room and den. "Clear."
Swiftly, they moved upstairs and checked under the bed and in the closets and the bathroom. When they were satisfied they were alone, they visibly relaxed and holstered their weapons. Illya said, "I thought I saw bedding in that closet. You make up the bed and I will see if there is food."
The mission had been a success, but just barely. Napoleon had managed to get the plans for THRUSH's new biological weapon from the satrap leader's safe while Illya had set explosives around the perimeter of the Idaho location before their escape was discovered. They managed to shoot their way out and keep their pursuers' pinned down until the explosions silenced them.
Illya was behind the wheel of the rental heading south on some unnamed county road when he said, "I think we have driven far enough to be out of danger. The car radio says it is almost two thirty in the morning. We need to find someplace to spend the night."
He felt concerned eyes fall on him. "You didn't get shot and not tell me again?" Napoleon inquired.
Illya shook his head so sharply his bangs flipped away from his face. "No, 'Polya, I am not shot. I am, however, bone tired and quite hungry. We were captive for at least sixty hours with no food or water."
The darker man grimaced. "Don't remind me. My cell was crawling with centipedes!"
The Russian snorted, "I wish mine had been, once you remove the head, centipedes are edible. They are an excellent source of protein. In fact…"
"Stop, Illya, before you make me sick to my stomach. Let me clarify our position: Neither one of us has any money for food or a hotel, we're basically in the middle of nowhere because, as usual, THRUSH's now defunct satrap was outside of some little backwater town with a population of two hundred if that many and not a one of them has ever heard of UNCLE. That about sums it up, doesn't it? What are we going to do?"
"This is a change of pace; usually I am the pessimistic one. Remember, I was able to use the satrap's radio to contact HQ. Smelterville is approximately twenty minutes away and Wallace is about fifteen minutes' past that. We will be extracted from Wallace tomorrow afternoon and we have more than enough gas to get there. If we can find an empty hunting cabin around here, we will be able to sleep for free without spending the night in the car. As for food, if there is nothing in the cupboards, I am sure I can glean enough from the land in the surrounding area come morning. Look, there is a dirt road heading deeper into woods. Hopefully, there is a cabin at the end of it."
As the Russian turned off the main road and slowed to maneuver around the curves and potholes, Napoleon rolled his eyes toward the heavens and implored, "Dear Lord, please let there be canned goods."
MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU
Illya had discovered there was electricity and running water and had found several cans of soup, beans, tuna and a tin of crackers. He was looking for a can opener in one of the drawers when he sensed a presence. "Napoleon," he said as he turned around, "you do not have to…"
There was no one there. I could have sworn someone was behind me. He didn't feel that way anymore so he continued searching and was rewarded with a manual can opener. He tasted the water and finding it drinkable, filled two cups he rinsed out and placed them on the kitchen table with his other finds.
He walked out to the bottom of the stairs to tell Napoleon to come down. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he whirled around, gun in his hand so quickly he didn't remember drawing it. Again, no one was there. Bozhe moi, what is wrong with me?
"Illya, are you alright? What's wrong?" Napoleon was on the stairs, gun drawn.
Putting his gun away, Illya shook his head and said, "I must be more tired than I thought. I felt like someone was behind me twice, but we are alone." Straightening up, he said, "I was coming to tell you I found cans of food."
As he came all the way downstairs, Napoleon holstered his weapon and exclaimed, "Great! Let's eat."
MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU
Illya estimated it was around three – thirty by the time they had finished eating their meager meal and decided to turn in for three or four hours' sleep. Used to sharing rooms and beds, it didn't occur to either agent to sleep on the couch downstairs. He climbed the stairs ahead of his partner, pulling off his jacket and tie as he went. Dumping them unceremoniously on the floor next to the side of the bed he claimed, he undid his pants and let them drop, sat down, toed off his shoes and then pulled his pants off to join his jacket. He placed his gun under his pillow and began to unbutton his shirt.
"Illya, honestly! Snakes take better care of their shed skins than you take of your clothing!" Napoleon chided as he carefully draped his jacket over the back of the chair on his side of the room. He turned to look at his partner who had finished stripping to his underwear and was getting under the covers. When he turned back around, his jacket was on the floor.
Frowning, he lifted it up and shook it out before replacing it upon the chair. I didn't hear it fall. Illya's not the only one who's overly tired. He went to use the bathroom. Mindful of his partner, he was as quiet as he could be as he used the facilities, washed his hands and rinsed out his mouth and eased back into the bedroom. He placed his slacks on the chair and lifted the bed covers and slid in carefully. Suddenly, Illya leapt out of bed with his gun pointed directly at Napoleon's head.
Raising his arms he said, "Calm down, Tovarisch, it's just me! What is the matter with you?" He reached down and turned on the lamp.
The Russian ran his left hand through his hair as he lowered his gun. "Was I sleeping so deeply that I never heard you get out of bed?" he asked.
"I never got in the bed! I was just getting in when you pulled your gun on me."
"No, that is not possible! You said goodnight to me and tousled my hair! You put your back against mine! I jumped up because a third person was on the bed!" At Napoleon's look of confusion and head shake, Illya moaned, "I, I must be under the influence of some new THRUSH drug that is making me hallucinate." He placed his weapon in Napoleon's hands. "Take it; obviously, I am not to be trusted with a gun now."
Napoleon took the gun and placed it back under the Russian's pillow. "How did they give it to you? We didn't get food, water or injections. That would mean you probably would have had to inhale it; if so, how come I'm not affected when we were in adjacent cells breathing the same air? I doubt that, seriously."
"What are you saying, Napoleon, that this place is haunted? I do not believe in ghosts."
"Did you get out of bed to hang up your suit?"
Illya turned to see his suit and tie neatly hung up in the closet. "I did not do that!"
Just then, a shadow flitted across the room and pushed against the Russian rather seductively and then disappeared. It happened so quickly, they both could have dismissed it as an optical illusion. Except they both knew it hadn't been.
"Well, it would seem that this ghost believes in you, Partner Mine. Doesn't seem dangerous; come on, let's get some sleep," he said as he yawned and climbed back into bed, "It will be daylight in a couple of hours."
"Are you mad? After what we just saw and what I told you? Let us get dressed; we can drive into Wallace now and sleep in the car."
"Neither one of us is in any condition to drive and it's too cold to sleep outside. I know what to do. Come to bed."
Illya debated with himself whether or not to argue, but in the end, he sighed and got in bed wondering what his crazy partner intended.
"I know this is not your thing, Tovarisch, so bear with me." Napoleon moved closer to the smaller man until their shoulders touched, closed his eyes and intoned, "Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen." He opened his eyes and smiled. Reaching over to turn out the lamp he said, "Okay, we're good. Goodnight."
Illya reached up and turned on the lamp on the nightstand next to him. "You recite the Lord's Prayer in Latin and that is it? Just go to sleep?"
The darker man shrugged, "That was the way I learned it and yes, that's it. Whatever it is seems to like you, but since we don't know what its intentions are and since neither one of us can fight the supernatural, I've handed it off to a Higher Authority. I believe we are safe. You believe it, too and go to sleep."
The blond shook his head and rolled over. "Goodnight, Napoleon. I'm leaving this light on, however."
MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU
Illya didn't think he would be able to sleep a wink, but, sure enough, he opened his eyes to sunlight outside the window. He glanced sideways to his left and saw Napoleon beside him sleeping peacefully. He did a quick self – inventory and once he realized he was fine, he called to his partner. "Napoleon?" he said softly, "Wake up."
Brown eyes snapped open instantly and looked around. "Anything wrong?" When the Russian shook his head, Napoleon sat up and stretched. "We live to see another day! Judging by the sun's position, I guess it's about seven – thirty. Is there anything left in the kitchen for breakfast?" he asked as he moved to put on his pants.
"Yes, there are, there are several cans of peaches."
"That will have to do. Whoever is meeting us in Wallace doesn't know it yet, Partner Mine, but they are springing for sandwiches and sodas." Napoleon finished dressing and turned to see Illya frowning at his clothing. "Are you okay?"
"Hmm? I am fine, Napoleon. I just…Nothing. Nevermind. I'll be downstairs in a few minutes" Illya watched as the American hesitated and then headed downstairs. He sat on the bed and buried his face in his hands. I am a scientist. I am an atheist! I do not know how to process what I have witnessed. Perhaps I am going mad. He lifted his head and froze. The chair that had been on Napoleon's side of the bed now sat in front of him with his suit jacket draped across the back. He bolted up like he was on fire, grabbed his shoes, clothing and gun and ran downstairs. "Napoleon!" he called as he hopped around on one foot putting on his pants, "Grab some cans and the can opener and come! Now!"
It took all he had to stay in the house until Napoleon came alongside him; then he stepped out with his partner trailing. He unlocked the doors, got in and started the car. He stomped on the gas pedal, causing the car to lurch forward. He slammed on the brake and forced himself to calm down. When his heart stopped threatening to burst through his rib cage, he put the car back in motion. He turned on the radio and began to concentrate on the road.
Napoleon had watched silently as Illya quietly freaked out and he tried to think of something he could say to Illya that would make him feel better. After about ten minutes of the only sounds in the car coming from the radio, he just gave up and announced, "I don't know what to say to you, Illya. Do you want to talk about it?"
Staring out the windshield, Illya just said, "Not now."
MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU
Two days went by before Napoleon had had enough. "Illya," he said, "we need to talk. After work, come home with me; I'll order takeout." They were sitting together in their office for the first time since they returned to New York. Illya had gone to the lab as soon as they finished debriefing with Mr. Waverly. Neither had mentioned the eerie happenings that took place before they drove to Wallace. Napoleon had written the mission report for once without complaint, again omitting the events at the cabin. According to the report, they rested and then met the extraction team in Wallace as planned. He had taken the completed report to the lab for Illya to sign. Once he informed the Russian of the omission, he had signed without reading it.
The Russian sighed and shook his head. "Napoleon, tomorrow is our only day off before we fly to New Hampshire. I need to go home and…"
"Tovarisch, please do not make me make this an order."
The Russian gave Napoleon a look that would have made a stranger cringe, but Napoleon only gazed back serenely. Conceding defeat, Illya groused, "Fine, I'll meet you at Reception at six. I am going back to the lab."
MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU
After dinner, both men sat in the living room with drinks in hand and bottles close by. Napoleon looked at Illya who was seemingly studying his drink. "Let's just cut to the chase, shall we? You've been withdrawn, depressed and distracted ever since we left that cabin. I don't feel comfortable having you in the field this way. An unfocused agent is a dead agent." His tone softened. "I was there, too, Illya; tell me what you are feeling. Talk to me. Please. "
Illya drained the glass, set it down on the coffee table and leaned back. "I feel like everything I knew about the world has been turned upside down. If someone had told me he had experienced what we did in that cabin, I would have thought him mentally unbalanced. I have been going over those events attempting to identify any scientific reason for what happened to me and I cannot find one."
Napoleon sipped his drink and asked bluntly, "And that bothers you because…?"
"Because I sensed something I could not see! It got into bed with me and ruffled my hair and moved my clothing! Then you prayed for protection so it would leave me, us alone until daybreak, at least, and it did. That flies in the face of my beliefs. What else am I wrong about?"
"Illya, I can only tell you what I know. I was raised Catholic and though I haven't been to church in ages, I am a believer. My Nonna told me when I was a child that if I were ever confronted by un mal occhio (the evil eye) or a spirit, I should recite the Lord's Prayer and just believe God will handle it."
"Whatever was going on in that cabin, I honestly did not think it would harm us, but I felt I should pray. So, I did. Illya, I wish I had the words to make you feel better. All I have are these: There are things we cannot understand."
Illya rolled his eyes. "Those are your great words of wisdom? 'There are things we cannot understand?'"
"Partner, you have spent the better part of the last three days trying to make sense of what happened in that cabin. It doesn't make any sense! Especially to an atheist who does not believe in an afterlife. Once you accept that, you'll be able to move past it. Or, would you prefer to try to convince one of our shrinks that some sort of poltergeist developed a crush on you and your partner prayed it away?"
Illya shrugged. "Apparently, that is the truth."
Laughing, Napoleon said, "I don't think they could handle the truth! Illya, you have been around the block enough times to know that there are things in this world that defy explanation. Science explains a lot, but it can't explain everything. I don't think it can explain this. I know your scientific heart wants another answer, but it's not going to get one." Regaining his composure and business – like demeanor he asked, "Can that be good enough for you?"
Downing the rest of his drink in one swallow, he placed the glass firmly on the coffee table. "It will be. I misspoke before, Napoleon. I said everything I know has been turned upside down. That is untrue. The truest thing I know is that you have my back and would do anything to save me. I just didn't know the extent of your resources. You are full of surprises, my friend."
Napoleon held up his glass in salute. "I do what I can, Tovarisch, I do what I can."