Title: "The Twilight Zone Affair"
Author: Kei
Fandom: the Man From UNCLE
Pairing: well...hard to say. You'll see.
Rating: PG-13 (or thereabouts)
Warnings: weird...very weird; a unique sort of haunting.
Disclaimers: the Man From UNCLE (series and characters) belong to MGM and I am only borrowing them. Please don't sue me as I am constantly broke
Note: this is the direct result of neglecting to take my meds g.
"THE TWILIGHT ZONE AFFAIR"
by Kei
...sigh...
What a day.
He was tired, but it was a good sort of tired -the kind of weariness that came after a job well done with all the satisfaction that entailed, leaving a man with a few minutes or so to himself to enjoy his triumphs. Himself? Hmn... Well, as on his own as one could be while sitting in a pub that was enjoying a good night. He ordered a Scotch whiskey -one finger only, didn't need alcohol giving him a restless night- and sat at the bar, gazing at the golden liquid when it arrived and then raising the glass to his lips.
And stopped.
Damn..!
He stared at the shimmering image reflected in the crystal, his thin eyebrows knitting together in frustration. He couldn't believe it -there he was. Again! He glanced over his shoulder and at the other end of the bustling tavern, a familiar face nodded slightly in silent greeting.
Long fingers ran through silver-stippled golden hair in a gesture of resignation -should have known that *he* would be here, or there, somewhere...and always close-by. It was like having a shadow. Where he went, his shadow followed. Oh, his *shadow* was unobtrusive enough, never going out of his way to be noticed, never deliberately getting in the way...but it never failed. Where he went, his shadow would be there too.
Another whiskey was ordered -same as before- and was placed before him. "Spacee-" He coughed, swallowing the slip of the tongue (how long had it been since he had even needed to *sound* Russian) and offered: "Thank you" instead, at which the barkeeper gave him a puzzled look. "Are you an actor?"
"Umn...yes."
"Thought so -I *know* I've seen you somewhere before."
"Possibly. Have you watched 'Colditz'?"
"No... That wasn't it."
"I recently portrayed Julius Caesar..."
"Now I remember! That spy show -back in the 60's! The little Russian guy!"
Oh brother. He sighed aloud -that spy show. It was there, as a young, up and coming actor that he had been introduced to his shadow. Now, he had been warned about the way things were in the acting world -there were strange people out there. People that would kill you or pledge their undying love...or follow you wherever went. His shadow, while sometimes annoying, wasn't quite like that though -no, to be honest, while he wouldn't say that his shadow had saved his life, he'd certainly made possible a life he might not once have envisioned...and he was grateful.
But, damn it, his shadow wouldn't go away.
No matter what he did, no matter what role he accepted or where, his shadow was there, looking as young and perfect as the day they had been introduced, insistently remaining at his side.
...sigh...
He glanced at his watch -it was late, but not that late. He wondered if... Several numbers on his cell phone were stabbed in quick succession before he sat and waited. A familiar voice answered. "Hello?"
"Bob? This is David."
"Dave!" There was a curious note of relief in the voice. "I'd heard that you were in town -how *are* you?"
"Uhm...not bad -doing rather well actually." A pause. "I was wondering if we might meet -I need to talk."
Another pause. "Uh...I..."
"*He's* there, isn't he?"
"Might be," came the resigned reply. "Sometimes I see him, sometimes I don't -but yes, he's always around. You?"
"Likewise."
There was a familiar rich laugh. "Doesn't really matter though, does it? Come on over...we'll talk about old times."
"Within the hour?"
"That should be fine. Oh, and your shadow..?"
"He'll be there."
"Mine will too."
"They always are."
***************************
A thin eyebrow arched in bemusement as he watched the man pay his tab and then turn to leave the pub. Stubborn fellow...liked being followed as little as *he* liked to have to follow him. But that was the way it was -they were attached to each other until the powers-that-be said otherwise. He pulled a pen-like device from his coat pocket. "Open Channel D -Kuryakin to Solo."
"Solo here. How's it going, Tovarisch?"
"Mr. McCallum has just left the pub and is on his way to your post, I believe. I shall endeavor to remain in close proximity. And *your* assignment?"
"Mr. Vaughn is being equally stubborn as usual -doesn't believe he needs me shadowing him even if it *is* for his own good."
Illya allowed himself a quiet laugh. "Those two never will accept it."
---The End---
Author: Kei
Fandom: the Man From UNCLE
Pairing: well...hard to say. You'll see.
Rating: PG-13 (or thereabouts)
Warnings: weird...very weird; a unique sort of haunting.
Disclaimers: the Man From UNCLE (series and characters) belong to MGM and I am only borrowing them. Please don't sue me as I am constantly broke
Note: this is the direct result of neglecting to take my meds g.
"THE TWILIGHT ZONE AFFAIR"
by Kei
...sigh...
What a day.
He was tired, but it was a good sort of tired -the kind of weariness that came after a job well done with all the satisfaction that entailed, leaving a man with a few minutes or so to himself to enjoy his triumphs. Himself? Hmn... Well, as on his own as one could be while sitting in a pub that was enjoying a good night. He ordered a Scotch whiskey -one finger only, didn't need alcohol giving him a restless night- and sat at the bar, gazing at the golden liquid when it arrived and then raising the glass to his lips.
And stopped.
Damn..!
He stared at the shimmering image reflected in the crystal, his thin eyebrows knitting together in frustration. He couldn't believe it -there he was. Again! He glanced over his shoulder and at the other end of the bustling tavern, a familiar face nodded slightly in silent greeting.
Long fingers ran through silver-stippled golden hair in a gesture of resignation -should have known that *he* would be here, or there, somewhere...and always close-by. It was like having a shadow. Where he went, his shadow followed. Oh, his *shadow* was unobtrusive enough, never going out of his way to be noticed, never deliberately getting in the way...but it never failed. Where he went, his shadow would be there too.
Another whiskey was ordered -same as before- and was placed before him. "Spacee-" He coughed, swallowing the slip of the tongue (how long had it been since he had even needed to *sound* Russian) and offered: "Thank you" instead, at which the barkeeper gave him a puzzled look. "Are you an actor?"
"Umn...yes."
"Thought so -I *know* I've seen you somewhere before."
"Possibly. Have you watched 'Colditz'?"
"No... That wasn't it."
"I recently portrayed Julius Caesar..."
"Now I remember! That spy show -back in the 60's! The little Russian guy!"
Oh brother. He sighed aloud -that spy show. It was there, as a young, up and coming actor that he had been introduced to his shadow. Now, he had been warned about the way things were in the acting world -there were strange people out there. People that would kill you or pledge their undying love...or follow you wherever went. His shadow, while sometimes annoying, wasn't quite like that though -no, to be honest, while he wouldn't say that his shadow had saved his life, he'd certainly made possible a life he might not once have envisioned...and he was grateful.
But, damn it, his shadow wouldn't go away.
No matter what he did, no matter what role he accepted or where, his shadow was there, looking as young and perfect as the day they had been introduced, insistently remaining at his side.
...sigh...
He glanced at his watch -it was late, but not that late. He wondered if... Several numbers on his cell phone were stabbed in quick succession before he sat and waited. A familiar voice answered. "Hello?"
"Bob? This is David."
"Dave!" There was a curious note of relief in the voice. "I'd heard that you were in town -how *are* you?"
"Uhm...not bad -doing rather well actually." A pause. "I was wondering if we might meet -I need to talk."
Another pause. "Uh...I..."
"*He's* there, isn't he?"
"Might be," came the resigned reply. "Sometimes I see him, sometimes I don't -but yes, he's always around. You?"
"Likewise."
There was a familiar rich laugh. "Doesn't really matter though, does it? Come on over...we'll talk about old times."
"Within the hour?"
"That should be fine. Oh, and your shadow..?"
"He'll be there."
"Mine will too."
"They always are."
***************************
A thin eyebrow arched in bemusement as he watched the man pay his tab and then turn to leave the pub. Stubborn fellow...liked being followed as little as *he* liked to have to follow him. But that was the way it was -they were attached to each other until the powers-that-be said otherwise. He pulled a pen-like device from his coat pocket. "Open Channel D -Kuryakin to Solo."
"Solo here. How's it going, Tovarisch?"
"Mr. McCallum has just left the pub and is on his way to your post, I believe. I shall endeavor to remain in close proximity. And *your* assignment?"
"Mr. Vaughn is being equally stubborn as usual -doesn't believe he needs me shadowing him even if it *is* for his own good."
Illya allowed himself a quiet laugh. "Those two never will accept it."
---The End---