Disclaimers: If you've read the rest of the Culture Shock series, you know the drill.
Notes: The Culture Shock girls take on "The Nowhere Affair."
Synopsis: Napoleon is sent to Nowhere, Nevada to retrieve information on a nearby THRUSH facility and brings Elaine along for the trip. As could be expected, things go horridly wrong and the pair are captured by the enemy; to avoid compromising what they've learned, the pair take the Capsule B amnesia pill and as a result have no memory of who they are or what they were doing. It's up to Celeste and Illya to rescue the pair before things can go from bad to worse...
CULTURE SHOCK
Part 6: The Nowhere Affair
"So... mind tell me where we're going again?" Elaine lowered her sunglasses to make sure she was seeing correctly. Yep. Even without the tinted lenses, it's still just as boring. She flicked the glasses back up to the bridge of her nose and slouched down in her seat, questioning again what line of flawed reasoning had motivated her to accept this trip.
"Nowhere," replied Napoleon, squinting through the dust that clouded the windshield. What little of the landscape that he could see jolted and jumped as the car made its way over the grit-clogged road, the only clue to their location being the faded Nevada road sign just barely in view.
"...What?" Elaine grimaced as the car hit a particularly nasty dip in the road, and she snatched the map from Napoleon so that he could put both hands on the wheel.
"Well, I seem to recall there being a little argument we had after I asked one of your Translation colleagues out for coffee. I asked you where I could take you to make it up, and you said 'Nowhere.' So, that's exactly where we're going."
"I didn't expect you to take me seriously!" Her grimace deepened as she looked down at the map. Road sign notwithstanding, nothing looked familiar to her and she let the folded paper fall into her lap in a defeated flutter. "And just like me, I forgot to bring my sunscreen. I'm going to fry."
"We won't be here that long. Two heads are better than one, aren't they?" Napoleon retrieved the map and glanced at it from time to time, comparing the surroundings pictured there to the desolation around them. "Especially since I have no clue where we are."
"That makes two of us," Elaine muttered, rolling her eyes. "I would suggest we stop and ask for directions, but there's no one around."
Napoleon leaned forward slightly, peering ahead to a skeletal shadow resolving out of the thickening dust. "Looks like we've got a signpost here. I'll get out and see what it says – wait right here."
"Yes, sir." The redhead reached a hand up to wipe sweat from her brow as her companion opened the driver's door and slid out into the gloom, covering his mouth and nose with his handkerchief to make breathing easier. Trust him to wear a dark suit in the middle of the damn desert, she grumbled silently as he made his way to the signpost and examined its forks for known locations. Only he could do something so dense... and look so good doing it. She tensed as a second figure appeared out of the dust, forming into an old man and his mule that were both as scraggly as the desert that they emerged from. With my luck, he's going to try and murder us. I hope Napoleon's ready for the worst...
The two men exchanged greetings, shouting to be heard over the howl of the wind. Elaine resigned herself to reading lips as she dared not roll down the window, and even her inexpert skill in that area soon failed. She watched, waiting anxiously, and heaved a sigh of relief when the older man pointed down to the most faded branch of the post and lurched back from whence he'd come. Napoleon returned to the car soon afterwards, shutting the door hastily behind him to avoid bringing in any more of the grime that had already begun to discolor his suit. "We're not far. Don't worry, we'll be in and out in no time."
"So 'splain it to me again, Solo – you took me out to the middle of Nowhere for what reason exactly?" Narrowed green eyes flicked from cobwebbed railing to broken window to creaking shutter and back again, muscles tightened and ready for flight at the slightest scare. "We both know it's not for my keen analytical sense."
"You, ah, looked like you could use the sun." Napoleon started off in the direction of what appeared to be a dilapidated saloon, mind already on the next task before him and paying little heed to the young woman's nervous jitters. "Keep a lookout while I go inside, and give me a whistle if you see anyone out of the ordinary. This place is probably crawling with THRUSH by now and the last thing we want to do is get caught."
Way to state the obvious, Mr. Dynamite. Elaine re-tied her headscarf so that it covered more of her signature blazing hair and assumed a waiting posture in the shadows nearby. "The sun and I have signed a mutual avoidance treaty, Napoleon. It hates me, I hate it, and if we don't see each other things are just great," she called after him, earning only a grin and rueful head-shake as he disappeared into the building.
Napoleon was quick to spot the first sign of trouble when he entered the saloon, crossing immediately to the suit-clad corpse on the floor and examining it for clues as to his next action. A hastily scrawled message on the floor next to the body – Old Man's Room – led him upstairs and, trusting that all was safe outside, he gave the indicated room a quick glance-over for anything out of place. One of the knobs on a corroded bedframe sat crookedly on its post and it was here that Napoleon looked next, removing the knob and extracting a pocketwatch from the hollow space within. The watch came open with minimal effort, revealing a sheet of folded plastic that had been secreted inside. He began to carefully unfold the plastic, but was distracted by the loud whinnying of a horse outside.
What on earth is taking him so long? Elaine wondered, shifting slightly to ease a cramp that had developed in her leg from where she crouched in the dirt. He said we'd be done in no time, and he's the expert.A scuffling sound nearby raised her senses to full alert and, remaining as still as possible, she carefully looked over to see what had caused it. Just a stray tumbleweed. Hurry up, Napoleon – this place is giving me the creeps!
This moment of distraction was all that was needed to gain the advantage over the unsuspecting girl as a booted foot knocked her to the ground, knocking the wind from her chest and leaving her stunned for a brief second. She twisted to the side as a fist whistled by, aimed for a knockout blow in the soft part of the cranium, and fumbled for the pen that she'd been issued before departing on this task. The foot came down next in a cruel stomp, crushing the device before she could use it to warn her companion that something wrong was about to happen, and in one last desperate move Elaine opened the bottom of the now-useless device and extracted the small pill from within. May as well make myself useless too, she thought as she gulped it down, wincing at its taste. The others will know what to do.
She should have warned me that something was up by now, Napoleon thought, shooting a panicked glance over towards the window. Following his first instinct, he reached for his own pen to call for assistance - "Channel D. Calling Channel D" - and was rewarded with empty static for his efforts. The horse whinnied again. Napoleon quickly replaced the plastic where it had originally been hidden, then pocketed the watch and moved for the window. It was a relatively short drop through the window down to a lower roof and from there to the ground, where he looked around to try and spot the unwelcome guests.
Seeing no one, he next looked for a place to hide the watch and found a likely spot within the hollowed ivory of an animal skull. The enemy was visible now, looming through a cloud of swirling grit, two men riding on horses with a limp body slung just behind the saddle of one. Even as he turned to run, an expertly-thrown coil of rope snared Napoleon around the waist and tugged him to the ground; he rose just long enough to radio in a distress call before ripping the capsule free with his teeth and swallowing it. Then came a swift blow to the back of the head, a mocking "Sweet dreams, Mr. Solo!" following him into unconsciousness as he hit the dirt once more. Another efficient foot-stomp destroyed the pen just as quickly as its fellow, and all was soon lost in the choking dust.
Act 1: "Nobody's been called Napoleon since Waterloo"
"Ten months ago Amun Tertunian, one of the world's greatest authorities on cybernetics, disappeared abruptly." Mr. Waverly took out a picture of the named individual from an envelope and placed it on the table for Illya and Celeste to see.
"Tertunian, Tertunian..." Illya paced by the window, trying to place the name in his memories before muttering, "Ah. THRUSH."
Celeste, for her part, stood opposite the table from Waverly while waiting for her turn to speak. Many things weighted her mind – Elaine and Napoleon are gone again, probably in danger... and what the hell possessed Illya to wear that jacket today? The maroon color is making me queasy...
Waverly cleared his throat, and Celeste tore her eyes from the sartorially challenged Russian to make her report. "Word came in from one of our undercover guys that they're holding him in their top-secret facility in Nevada. Napoleon went in to recover the information and bring out Tertunian, but the last signal he gave showed that even though he'd been successful in getting the facts he was still facing capture. Why am I not surprised one bit - " She paused, blinked, then said, "Illya, have you been shopping cheap again? I mean, I have no fashion sense, but even I think that blazer looks gross on you. Toss it."
Illya shot her a flat look of reproval, briskly returning Celeste to her original topic. "Finish your report. What were you about to say?"
"Oh. Well, there's the supposedly top-secret amnesia drug that the guys have been bragging about, or the fact that our best friends are missing again. Take your pick."
"Let me guess," Mr. Waverly interjected, "Napoleon and his Girl Friday have fallen into some kind of... peril?" Though his facial expression remained largely unchanged, Celeste did not miss the hesitation on the last word and could not help a cough at the implication.
"Undoubtedly so," said Illya, missing the exchange completely as he returned to the table and seated himself in front of a device that had been placed there for his examination. A portable radiation detector consisting of a handheld wand connected to a control box, the device emitted a series of clicking noises which grew louder as Illya brought the wand into proximity of a small pocketwatch that he held in his other hand. "Would I be correct in assuming that Mr. Solo carried one of these radioactive timepieces?"
"Yes," Waverly said with a small nod. "To make things easier, the map and the information will also respond to your beeper."
Celeste seated herself at the table as well and reached for the vial of pink pills that had been set there as well, picking it up and holding it to the light so she could get a better look at them. "So how well do these things work?"
"Well, I daresay one would still be able to count up to ten, conjugate a few basic Latin verbs..." Waverly paused and Celeste swallowed nervously, thinking that this could not possibly bode well. "But you would not remember a thing about who you are or what you were doing before you took the capsule. The effects last for at least seventy-two hours." Celeste traded a worried look with Illya as Mr. Waverly concluded his thoughts. "Miss Lancaster will be accompanying you, Mr. Kuryakin, because it seems there has been a slight... ah, complication."
"Complication?"
"Ah, yes. From all appearances, we must assume that both Mr. Solo and Miss Salomon have taken Capsule B to avoid divulging information to their captors. An extra pair of hands may be helpful."
There was a loud click as Celeste set the pill bottle down on the table with more force than intended. "Oh, for the love of - " What did I do to deserve this?
"Oooh, my head..." Elaine opened her eyes slowly, head swimming in a strange kind of soft agony as she tried to figure out where she was. She blinked once, twice, the form above her coalescing into that of a blonde woman in a lab coat. "Ugh, blonde. I don't have so good of luck with blondes. I'll tell you something now, bitch – touch him and your ass is toast."
The woman frowned primly at this burst of foul language, shaking her head in mute correction as she checked the captive's vitals. "You may call me Mara. Anything else would be inappropriate. And please do not worry, he is quite safe."
Elaine hoisted herself into an upright position, then sagged back onto the pillows with a grunt when this made her headache worse. "Just so you know that he's mine. I don't trust blondes, you know that?"
"I get the picture," Mara said, handing the other woman a pill and a glass of water. "Take this, it will help your head to stop hurting."
Elaine took the pill unquestioningly but still fixed Mara in a dubious gaze as she sipped at the water. "So where is this place? Why'm I here" a wince, then "for that matter, who the hell'm I?" It was Mara's turn to give the redhead a dubious look, and Elaine shrugged. "Wha' you lookin' at me like that for, woman? Those seem like logical questions to ask, wakin' up in a strange place and all."
"This isn't my hotel room, is it." A puzzled squint up at the bespectacled man.
"Hardly."
This was a start, although hardly the information a brain-fogged Napoleon sought as he struggled to connect events in his mind. "Where am I?" Blink. "Who are you?"
"Well let me introduce myself to you." The other man seemed as clearly dissatisfied at the situation as his captive, but seemed willing to play along if it got the result he desired. "I am Walter Langolias."
"I'm... ah..." The words danced just out of reach no matter how hard Napoleon tried to reach them, and finally he gave up. "That's funny. I don't seem to remember who I am."
Traces of strained Southern gentility showed in Langolias' voice as he responded. "Now I realize your head hurts, but let's not play any games. We both know very well who you are."
A chuckle, then, "You know who I am, and I don't. I'll bite, who am I?"
"You're Napoleon Solo, of course."
This was met with a snicker of disbelief. "Napoleon - ! There hasn't been anyone named Napoleon since the battle of Waterloo."
"Elaine Salomon? Sounds like something out of a bad medieval romance novel. You've gotta be shitting me – what was your name again?"
"Mara. And yes, that is your name. Tell me, what were you doing here with Solo? Did you find the map?"
A frustrated glare. "You speak craziness, woman! I don't know what's going on. I don't care for him, he's a complete asshole - "
Mara shot a disgusted look up at the ceiling from beyond her thick-framed glasses. "I always have to get the crazy ones..." When she had composed herself sufficiently, she returned her attention to the fuming Elaine. "I am going to leave now, Miss Salomon. When I return, you will tell us what we want to know. You most likely will be disposed of afterwards so I would suggest you enjoy what time you have left."
"What the – what do you mean, disposed of! I still don't even know where the hell I am, much less what the f-" Elaine was soon left screaming into empty air as the door closed, leaving her alone in the examination room. "What a lousy mess. I'm gonna smack that bastard the next time I see him..."
"I hope that Solo was not as useless to you as that... that harpy was." Mara seemed hard-pressed to contain her indignation as she spoke with Langolias in a side hall. "All I got from her was an earful of obscenities. What pits of filth are they recruiting from these days, I wonder?" She shook her head once more in distaste, then added, "If you have no further use for her, shall I order her disposed of?"
Langolias made a disapproving noise. "No, not yet. We might get some use out of her, gutter talk or no." He stopped again to think. "We'll have to resort to more extreme measures against Solo. Take him up to the laboratory – we'll give him some of that truth serum Tertunian has been working on and that should make him talk."
"And Miss Salomon? What of her?"
An idea came to Langolias, and he smiled in an altogether unpleasant fashion. "Bring her along too, but keep her under escort. We'll let her watch our little question and answer session, and maybe she'll be convinced to talk as well."
Mara frowned. "But she told me she hates him. Hurting him won't make her want to tell us anything."
The unpleasant smile widened. "You forget Solo's effect on women, Mara. No matter how much she hates him, who would want to see a handsome face like that get damaged?" Mara looked unconvinced, and Langolias sighed. "Just do as I say. You'll be surprised."
Somewhere in the desert above, a small jeep laden with equipment rambled over the sand in search of an elusive trace. "God, what a nasty place to get jumped in," Celeste yelled to Illya over the whine of the engine and the crunch of the terrain beneath thick tires. "I hate to say this, but this really is the middle of - "
Illya shook his head. "Not the 'nowhere' we're looking for. I think we're getting closer, though."
Celeste held a hand up over her eyes to block out some of the glare and looked around at the dull hues of scrubby brush and rock. "You don't say..."
Act 2: Computers Never Lie
"Now if we're dealing with a drug here, what is the antidote? Now surely your computers can tell us that!" Elaine shivered as the steel snap returned to Langolias' voice, causing the quiet, retiring Amun Tertunian to cringe and retreat to his instrument panels. She had been woken up from a heavy doze, dressed quickly in a simple robe, and escorted to the laboratory in time to see the one she'd come to know as Langolias bent over a figure strapped to a gurney and demanding information in much the same tone; though this means of questioning was far from effective, its ruthless intent was enough to make the young woman shake in fear for what this man could have in store for her. Furthermore, something in her heart had twinged when Langolias had screamed at the captive man. Elaine did not know why she felt this way, especially considering her memories of hatred for the man on the gurney. He's a jerk, but somehow – what are they going to do to him? I've got to help, but how?
The other captive had been wheeled away – Langolias had ordered him returned to his room – but for some reason Elaine had been kept to watch and listen in silent anxiety. She did her best to remain attentive as Tertunian spoke up once more. "These computers weren't programmed for medicine..." The rest of the words floated past Elaine's ears but did little to stick, and she cursed the brain-fog that rendered her so ineffective. The phrase "love lives" did stick, however, and it gave her a small jolt that made her realize the two men were about to figure something out.
"Using what, an insulin shot? Electric shock?" Langolias was asking.
"No, no." Tertunian wagged his fingers disapprovingly at Langolias, then added in a manner that returned the shivers to Elaine, "The oldest, most primitive stimuli we know." This can't be good, Elaine thought as Tertunian requested Mara to retrieve something for him. Holy cow, that's a big file – and all on – Solo!
The thrill of remembering even this small bit eclipsed the ongoing conversation for a split second, after which Elaine forced herself to snap back to attention. "Fear is the oldest, but then Mr. Solo is a fearless man. Hunger... highly applicable." What do they need all of this for? "But then the other is, ah..." A sideglance at Mara, then back to the other man. "...Libido. And that, my dear Langolias, is where we have a chance!" Elaine found it hard not to twitch at the implications of this phrase, and once more it took several loud heartbeats to regain control and listen once more. "Now if we could find someone who could arouse that not-so-latent predilection in Mr. Solo..."
Langolias took the file from Tertunian and looked it over for a moment, pulling a recently-added computer printout from within and examining it with interest. "No problem there," he said. "You see, I think we have just the candidate."
In the sudden silence that followed, Elaine blushed to realize that both men – and Mara, with an expression that could only be called thinly veiled contempt – were looking at her intently. "I – I don't see what you mean." Her gaze fell on the printout in Langolias' hand and her dread deepened when she recognized her own face in a photograph attached to it with a paper clip. "What's this now? That's me!"
"Indeed it is," interjected Tertunian with a smile that could almost be called proud. "As hard as it has been, we've composed an almost complete dossier on you as well. Certain things are missing, of course, but they are irrelevant at this point. My computer has analyzed your recent behavior and actions and has pinpointed you as a critical weakness in Solo's otherwise impenetrable armor."
"That can't be right! He irritates the living hell out of me, and I don't think it's too much of a stretch to say that I do the same for him - "
Tertunian quickly spoke up again, overriding Elaine's protest. "Say what you wish. Computers never lie."
"So what do you want me to do, charm the truth out of him?" Elaine shook her head. "No, not gonna happen."
Langolias waved a hand dismissively at this. "Well, Miss Salomon, either you do as we ask – no matter how unpleasant it may seem to you – or we get rid of you and find someone else." He glanced briefly back at the still-glaring Mara to make sure Elaine grasped the point.
The implication was not lost on Elaine, and she scowled. "When you put it that way..." She straightened, correcting her posture to allow a kind of dignity despite her unbecoming surroundings, and lifted her chin to gaze at the two men in a manner that caused even the normally unperturbed Langolias to fluster somewhat. "I suppose I shall have to try. Just tell me what you want me to get out of him, and I shall do the rest."
Unbeknownst to Illya and Celeste, their task had been made just that much more difficult. Their quarry had made its way into the hands of the same man that had greeted Napoleon, the old one cackling in glee at his trophy. Upon discovering that the pocketwatch did not run as it should, he pried it open and withdrew the sheet of hastily folded plastic – and then wasted no time in hiding it away, lest anyone else capitalize on his good fortune.
Elaine had hidden her inner distaste at this task long enough to tidy her appearance and exchange her mussed, wrinkled sleeping robe for a fresh garment. The few additional supplies she requested were questioned but not denied, albeit ridiculed somewhat by Mara who had been assigned to assist Elaine in her preparations. "Alcohol I could understand, but cold water and a washcloth? You are supposed to seduce him, not nurse him back to health."
This had at least merited an eye roll from the redhead. "Even a socially stunted mutant like myself knows that you don't catch flies with vinegar, Blondie. Since the moment you brought him here, you folks have screamed at him, pumped him full of drugs and threatened all kinds of nasty things – if I'm to make a play at his baser instincts, at least I'll be nice about it." Mara opened her mouth as if to complain, and Elaine silenced her with a sharp look. "Leave Sleeping Beauty to me, Mara. If he doesn't respond, then he's either severely ill or dead – in which case this would be a massive waste of everyone's time."
Mara said nothing further to this and left any additional worries unvoiced as she carried the items Elaine had asked for to the more isolated room that the captive had commandeered for her purposes. Before leaving Elaine alone to her work, though, she passed on one last device along with a final order. "Yes, it's a handgun. Our records say that you are at least familiar on a basic level with their use, and we shall expect you to use it should things go awry."
"You want me to kill him?" Elaine hissed, looking at the weapon in Mara's hand with mixed shock and disgust.
"There are two rounds loaded," the blonde replied with a small smirk. "I would think taking care of this yourself would be preferable to anything we have in mind. Try not to have too much fun, Miss Salomon."
"Jealous much?" Elaine muttered as the door closed behind her. "All right, let's see just what I'm capable of."
"Well, this certainly is Nowhere," Celeste said as they entered the bar, both stopping to look down at a stain on the floor of what might have been a body was dragged out. "The sign said 'population one', so there must be someone other then THRUSH around here."
Illya nodded as they stepped around it and he placed the retriever down, pulling out his communicator. "I daresay they wouldn't make it easy and put how many of them were here."
Celeste shrugged as she went around the bar, looking around the area for clues. "Well, considering the few times I've dealt with them they were pretty damned incompetent, I actually wouldn't put it past them."
Illya gave a small smile as he requested Channel D to speak to Mr. Waverly while Celeste, her small exploration complete, went about starting the detector.
"We've arrived in Nowhere, sir," Illya told Waverly after he got communication, "and we both agree, never has there been anywhere more suitably named."
There was the sound of annoyance from the other end. "Mr. Kuryakin, you and Miss Lancaster are working for UNCLE, not urban redevelopment."
Celeste coughed a little as she made sure to check over the machine again. She had gone through the basics of how to work it, and now that it was on, she didn't need it to go off again.
"There is also a small quantity of blood on the floor, fresh or else it would've been bleached out. Shall I test it for type?" Illya sounded a little sarcastic at that point.
"Not at the moment," Waverly told him as Celeste finally got the machine to work and smiled, moving it around near Illya, who gave her a slightly annoyed look at her actions.
Waverly obviously wanted to hear something as Celeste continued her sweep, bugging Illya for some information as she continued and paused when the sound got louder.
"You hear that?" she said loud enough for Waverly to hear as she followed it again, hearing over the communicator, "Where's it coming from?"
"Patience is a virtue," Celeste recited, "one that you and I don't have, now hold on." She moved it along then around to where she was, Illya following to behind the bar as she moved past the picture common from old West towns...that of a naked lady.
The detector protested moving past, forcing Celeste to frown then move it back until it clicked quickly as she hovered it over the drawn girl's abdomen.
She blinked as Illya reported, "It appears to be coming from a lady's abdomen, sir."
"Add that to things you hardly ever say," Celeste said quietly as she put the detector down and, with Illya's help, raised the frame enough to put her arm in the back and retrieve the watch. She quickly opened it then sighed as she found no plastic map or additional clues as to where Solo, Elaine, or THRUSH was.
"No luck," she said as Illya sighed, both of them glaring at the watch like it was fully at fault. "We'll keep looking."
Either I've died and gone to heaven – highly unlikely, considering – or I've completely lost it. The fever that had only added to his misery was now almost completely gone, and Napoleon was further pleasantly surprised to feel the remaining knots of headache being smoothed away under the expert stroke of light fingertips on his scalp. May as well enjoy it while it lasts. He then noticed that his head rested not on a cloth pillow but in the gentle arch of a woman's lap, the warm skin shielded by a thin layer of patterned fabric. "Now this is more like it," he muttered, opening his eyes fully to see just what kind of a situation he'd landed in. One of the hands paused in its motion and drifted down the side of his face in an idle caress, then returned to its soothing rhythm of earlier. "Oh, you didn't need to stop there..."
"All in good time, my dear." Something seemed familiar about the voice, and even as she shifted so that he could see her face, the woman's name failed him. "I hope you're feeling better."
"You have no idea." So close! Who is she...
She must have read the confusion in his expression, because a pang of disappointment crossed her features and she withdrew her hands. "You mean you don't remember me either, Napoleon? What have they done to you – to us?"
Much as he hated the idea, Napoleon shifted out of his comfortable rest onto the more traditional overstuffed pillow and patted the space next to him. "I don't know, but maybe we can figure it out together. Two heads are better than one, wouldn't you say?"
A tentative smile lit her face once more even as something strange – a flicker of recognition, perhaps – flashed in the woman's eyes. "You've said that to me before," she murmured, easing herself down so that they rested shoulder to shoulder. "You seriously don't remember me, do you?" A head-shake and apologetic grin to this. "I'm Elaine, you silly man. Holy cow, they must have hit both of us pretty hard."
"Yeah, that they did." Admiring his companion's loose copper tresses, Napoleon selected one and began to slowly twist it around his finger for closer examination. "And then they drug me up and yell at me about some map or something else like that... You wouldn't happen to know what they're talking about, do you?"
"I wish I did, but I'm as clueless as you." Memory fog aside, Elaine was finding it hard to focus in such close proximity. "Maybe if we try to remember who we are, everything else will click."
"That sounds like a plan," said Napoleon by way of agreement, bringing the fiery strand up to his lips and kissing it lightly before releasing it. "I'm sure everything will fall into place if we give it a shot."
Elaine laughed uneasily. "You do realize just how distracting this is, don't you?" Another laugh, more genuine this time. "Well, at least I remember that I think you're cute. Even if you irritate the living hell out of me."
"Trust me, my dear, the feeling is mutual." This comment earned a hurt noise from Elaine as well as an attempt to smack him on the shoulder; Napoleon caught her hand easily and held it in his own, running his fingers over the soft skin. "Not meant as an insult, of course. Hopefully you don't take it that way."
"No, no... no insult." Elaine swallowed dryly, thinking of the handgun that she'd put under the bed for safekeeping and the reason she'd been sent here. "So you really don't remember anything about a map, Napoleon?"
"No, I don't. All of this map business is starting to get on my nerves, you know that?" Something struggled to break free in his memory as Napoleon moved his thumb across the rough ridges on Elaine's palm – something familiar about the placement of the calluses, what was it – nothing. Damn...
She tensed at the irritation in his voice, and he quickly suppressed it before it upset her further. "I'm just glad they brought us back together. It doesn't seem so bad now that you're here."
"You really think so, huh?" Elaine grinned disbelievingly. "You'd say that to any woman, wouldn't you."
"Only those as beautiful and charming as you." Elaine found herself drawn into a tight embrace before she could form a reply, lips taken hostage in a firm kiss that threatened to melt away her resolve then and there. The tension was broken only a split-second away from the point of surrender, though, Napoleon sitting back with a puzzled expression. "I do remember something now!"
Elaine forced her brain back into a coherent track, focusing on his words for a clue that might illuminate their present predicament. "You do? What's that?"
"Just talking of maps – and secret plots – it just makes me think of the comics I read as a kid." Elaine raised an eyebrow at this comment, and Napoleon chuckled. "You know – Slam. Zap. Powie."
This brought a giggle from the redhead, pleased at this seemingly innocent revelation. "Oh, Napoleon, I love it when you talk nerdy."
"Slam." One strong hand cradled her cheek, locking her gaze into a single-minded purpose with the warm brown eyes not so far away. "Zap." Close enough to feel the pressure of breath on skin. "Powie." Then once more the lightest brush of lips to hers, deepening when they met no resistance. The hand slipped from its gentle touch on her face, tracing its way down the curve of her neck to the hollow of her shoulder, lingering lower for a fraction of a second while waiting for opposition. When none was offered, the hand traveled lower – low enough to loosen the ties of a sleeping robe and to uncover what lay underneath.
Act 3: "Nerd Talk"
They resumed their travels, the detector leading them out of the main place and back into the Nevada desert as both once more donned their shades and soon found the sound getting louder and louder as they went off the beaten path. After another moment or so, they spotted a man and a burro.
Celeste shook her head. "I don't want to know about it. I will not say what is on my mind while we're around the crazy guy."
"Good, I don't want to apologize for it."
The two got out, not saying a word as Celeste let the detector tick loudly while the man tried to talk about how he was the sheriff and only person in the town and—"What have you got there, girly?"
If I open my mouth, Celeste mentally told herself as she found the noise was loudest near the bags on the burro, I will make a joke about him and his burro. I'm not going to say anything. I will let Illya talk this one through. I will not insult the man who lives in the middle of—well...
"Hey, you stop that now, you hear me?"
Yes, we hear you, oh—no, stop. You won't, she stopped the detector when it was determined the map was in the bag, insult him or the burro. Think of the burro's feelings.
She reached in, pulling out the map as the man jumped, yelling, "Here, no, hey!" he grabbed her wrist to try and take the plastic map back, but Illya took it away, producing a rather silly version of 'keep away' as he moved from the man, who continued to yell, "That's mine! I found it, so it's mine!"
Celeste went to pet the burro instead as Illya moved to near the fire pit, opening it up to look before checking and then saying as he looked up, the glasses coming off. "42 degrees North...there, over those hills."
The miner knelt near Illya then smiled. "Yeah...wait, who are you two?"
"Rightful owners," Illya told him after Celeste refused to say anything, "This isn't a map to treasure, but to a secret base. We need to find it." He paused a moment, then said to Celeste. "Come on."
"Hey, wait up you two! We're comin' with ya!"
Celeste now spoke, "I don't think you want to. There's a certain amount of danger up there, and we're used to it."
"Oh, like minin' ain't dangerous!" he scoffed at her, "Or livin' out here, and I've been here a while now, ya hear girl?"
Celeste coughed at something then nodded. "I guessed."
"'Sides, I found it, and you guys jus come here 'n take it away from me? He—Shucks, a man gotta make a livin' here, and I intend to do it. Now we're comin' wit ya and ain't no thing you can say that'll make me not."
The two exchanged looks before Illya finally nodded. "Fine. Get the burro in the back, we'll take you."
The man chuckled happily as he moved his donkey into the back and Celeste looked skywards. "My life sucks."
It took the rest of the day to make it to where they were literally on top of the instillation, and Illya quickly contacted Waverly about it, receiving the orders to retrieve Napoleon and Elaine then blow up the instillation.
"Is that understood?" Waverly asked from his place in New York.
Celeste's voice came over the comms, "Yes sir, we're to find our friends then play with fire."
"He said explode everything."
"Same difference."
"Explode doesn't always involve fire."
"It will involve screaming alphas."
"That's beside the point..."
"Are you two done?" Waverly asked, irritation showing in his voice.
"Yes sir," the two voices said before the line went dead and Waverly sighed. He didn't understand those two...
"Well, sonny and lass, if you want, I got some dynamite with me, sell it to ya cheap."
"If 'cheap' means 'the lass'..."
The miner waved his hands quickly. "Oh, it ain't that, I'm fine with that, but a lot of it's old, ya see. Still, will blow that place to Kingdom Come when we're done."
Celeste put her head down at the first part and was muttering something along the lines of "shut up, shut up" while Illya nodded, "I think a good bottle of whiskey and some carrots would pay, wouldn't it?"
The man's face lit up. "It's a start. Let's go, since it'll take us 'till night to find our way there."
A distant commotion, the muted sound of dogs barking, stirred Napoleon from the light doze into which he had fallen about an hour earlier. He blinked once as he tried to place the strange surroundings in his memories, then frowned when he came up against the solid mental wall that formed a boundary between what had occurred in this strange place and what had come before. The unpleasant scenes of first return to consciousness, the interrogation, and the effects of the truth serum overdose had begun to fade into a dull psychic ache, lulled away by more recent memories of a woman's perfume, soft laughter, and a consuming need for physical closeness -
Elaine stirred, likewise disturbed from her sleep by the out-of-place noise, but did not wake fully. She yawned, stretched, then returned to her place. Comfortable as she was, though, an inherent sense of wrongness to the whole encounter prevented her from relaxing completely, and this agitation could be read in the tension of muscles in her slight frame even as she lay asleep. She shifted again, tugging at the bedsheet for comfort and coverage, in turn exposing an unusual design graven into the skin of her left hip that stood out sharply on the pale flesh even in the near-darkness. Startled by this discovery, Napoleon found himself squinting at the tattoo like a message spelled out in foreign script - a skull over a pair of crossed cannon, wearing... a sailor's hat? Strange. Two lines of text fell below the design, and numbers that he could only guess to be dates on either side of the cannon, and he let his finger wander over the characters as he tried to divine their significance aloud. "Fair Winds, Following Seas – Jason Jay Salomon. 1982... 2003."
This was enough to bring Elaine to full alertness, though her smile was less pleasant and her eyes did not reflect it as she spoke. "Is it dark enough that you need to read by Braille, Napoleon?"
"Ah. Sorry." He moved his hand to a safer place of rest on her waist, then asked, "Some relation of yours?"
"My brother. He died two weeks short of his twenty-first birthday when I was only eighteen. Shot himself clean through the head." Elaine rolled onto her back and gazed up at the ceiling, expression unreadable as her thoughts drifted back to what Mara had said previously. Two rounds. One for him – and one for me! A wave of pain slammed into her chest, a crushing sensation of bitter grief that swept the fog away and left her mind reeling in the sudden clarity of renewed memory. Elaine then sat up quickly, glancing around the room through a filter of astonishment and horror. "What the – bastards!"
A concerned noise from Napoleon. "Is everything all right, Elaine? I'm sorry if I hit a nerve, and I know you have, ah, quite a few."
"No, not you – them!" Thanking providence that she'd thought to request the return of her original clothing, Elaine wasted no time in finding it and putting it on. The realization of just what kind of situation she'd woken up to sank in anew, and her face flamed brilliant red. "You're a bastard too, now that I think about it, but we'll get back to that later." Napoleon's suit and accessories had been left on a chair nearby in accordance with another request, and in a fit of pique she tossed the lot at him and stooped to put her shoes on. "I mean, come on. We're in enemy hands facing certain death, and you've still got the night's nookie on your brain! I would tell you to take your brain out of your pants for once, but, er, you're not wearing any. Just do me a favor and get dressed, would you? It's hard for me to think when you aren't wearing anything."
She sank back down onto the edge of the bed, back carefully turned so as not to see anything that would distract her. "I'll ask you one last time – do you remember anything that happened before you woke up here? I didn't see anything before they took me, but maybe you did."
Silence for a long moment, then, "Why are you still so hung up on that? If we are indeed in enemy hands, as you say, shouldn't we be trying to escape?" Pause. "And one more thing that's been bugging me, Elaine. Why are you asking me all of these questions? If I didn't know you better – which is saying a lot right now, considering that there are a lot of things about you that don't fit – I'd almost say you were one of them."
Rage hissed through Elaine's veins as she heard this implication and she lunged for the concealed handgun, rising from the bed and bringing the weapon to bear on her fellow captive just as he had finished tying his necktie. "Get a goddamn clue, Solo! Did it ever occur to you that they were probably going to torture and then kill both of us if I didn't do what they asked?" She kept the handgun trained on Napoleon in a none-too-steady aim as he slowly crossed the short distance between them. "So sue me for wanting me to end things on my own terms instead of theirs! I had a crisis of conscience, all right? Don't make me fire this – I wasn't exactly certified on the six-shooter."
This did nothing to halt him, and Elaine settled her thumb on the hammer with a bravery that she didn't feel. "Don't think I won't!"
Then the distance was closed in one swift movement, her wrist seized in the grip of one firm hand and the revolver pried from her fingers by the other. Elaine let out a gasp of apprehension when she realized that their positions were now reversed, that she was staring down the barrel of a loaded gun held in the control of a man whose eyes now shone with the fire of restored recall and barely suppressed irritation. "Of course you would."
Elaine opened her mouth to protest, but she was ultimately blocked out by a commanding snap from a hidden speaker relaying the words of the remotely observing Walter Langolias. "Solo! Drop that gun - " Instead of doing as told, though, the barrel was directed in a deadly arc towards the source of the sound and the small, steady light of a camera above the speaker. Her breath caught in her throat as the hammer was tugged back, the trigger pulled, one of two rounds released from the revolver to impact not in human flesh, but instead with fatal accuracy in the lens of the camera. The device fizzled out with one final defeated pop, and Elaine let out a sigh of relief.
"Oh, I wouldn't be relieved just yet," Napoleon grumbled, having checked the remaining chambers of the weapon for a count of available ammunition. "Next time, tell them you're a lousy shot."
The trio quickly headed down the tunnel, placing dynamite as they went until they reached the main door, which Illya opened with some 'toothpaste' as the two watched.
"Well, if that don't beat..."
"It don't," she said as the door opened, "go hook up the rest of the dynamite, we'll take it from here."
"Right then," the miner quickly went back as Illya and Celeste headed in, both drawing their weapons before heading further up, waiting for the miner to follow when he was done.
"It had to be a maze," Elaine muttered in irritation as Napoleon knocked out a guard who wasn't paying attention, heading out before, as they left, Elaine said, producing the downed guard's gun, "You're a lousy rescuer, you know that?"
"Can we talk about this later?" Napoleon stressed the word as they walked in, Napoleon shooting off his last shot while Elaine tossed a few who came rushing after them, obviously not thinking about their guns while both she and Napoleon also set about to destroy some of the computers until more fighters, lead by the blond Mara, appeared at the door and the two took cover behind the small raised area, Napoleon shooting while Elaine blinked upon seeing the other door behind them open and two others, a blond male and a dark-haired female, shoot then head over while the blond said, "Take it easy, Napoleon, it's me, Illya!"
The two joined the others down and the dark-haired girl smiled at Elaine. "Hey, remember, I'm Celeste. We went through boot camp..." she shot at the men, "and part of A School..." another shot while on the other side, the blond was telling Napoleon, in about the same short amount of words, that he was a friend too.
Elaine blinked as more fog lifted. "Celeste? What the hell--?"
"Trust you both to get lost and take amnesia pills," Celeste complained before she handed the gun to Elaine and wiggled around to try and find a clip to reload it with while Elaine took aim and fired. Mara went down and Celeste handed over the clip. A dirty prospector—Elaine recognized him as the one from before—headed over before saying, "All done, sonny and lass. You just give me the sign and" he made an explosion sound, illustrating it with his hands as he did.
"We still have rescue Tertunian," Napoleon said, "give me one minute."
As the last THRUSH went down, Napoleon quickly scrambled over and headed away, Illya saying to the miner and girls, "You three get out, and count to sixty."
"Okay," the miner said, "Onetwothreefour--."
"SLOWLY!" Celeste said, taking the detonator from him, "One-one thousand-and a half...two-one thousand...and a quarter..."
The trio headed out, Celeste and Elaine alternation the slow count to sixty as they waited for Napoleon and Illya to return.
"Forty-nine...damn that's a long cave," Elaine said as the trio sat down outside, waiting for the other three's return, "Fifty..."
"Fifty-one," the miner said.
"Fifty-two," Celeste added before Tertunian, Napoleon and Illya raced out.
Celeste and Elaine looked at each other before yelling, "Six-seven-sixty!"
The explosion sent everyone down and away from the side and the top exploded, signaling the end of that one as Celeste, Illya and the miner laughed happily.
Elaine shook her head. "Six-seven...sixty?"
Celeste giggled. "Remember, our Petty Officer did that..."
Elaine's eyes widened before she joined in giggling. "Oh yeah..." Elaine's giggles turned to full laughs, "Remember the cadence?"
"The locker inspection at night."
"The march before we left."
Both of the girls, lost in a shared past, broke down laughing in the desert sand.
Act 4: "Aftermaths are a Bitch"
Napoleon stopped and looked in to where Celeste sat, her feet propped up and a newspaper opened. She cast him a quick look before muttering, "What do you want?"
"I was looking for Elaine. The Old Man called her earlier and I haven't seen her since."
"Well, she's probably still talking to him," she said, looking down at the page and not turning the paper. "Go bother someone else."
Napoleon walked up behind her, pausing as he looked down at her actual reading material, which showed a comic-like book, though this one was quite a bit more violent then the ones he had been used to as a child.
"That's not exactly appropriate reading material."
"No," she said, looking up at him with a glare, "it's not. But at least if I read it out loud I'll be saying more vulgar things then what Elaine did, and they don't work unless there are pictures, now beat it."
Napoleon gave her a frown. "What's your problem with me? I did rescue Elaine--."
Celeste's glare, if anything, turned darker at the words and she now turned fully, slamming both book and paper on her desk. Remember that she had given Illya a hard time before, Napoleon backed away as Celeste hissed at him, "My problem with you, Napoleon Solo, is your lack of basic understanding and your tactlessness in most things regarding my best friend. She told me what you said to her after you got the gun, and I don't appreciate it at all. Make all the jokes you want later on, but think before them, got it?"
Napoleon stopped, remember what had been said and then the dates, as well as what she had told him afterwards, as well as her unreadable expression before her memory had returned. What had she been thinking about—
Quite a few things clicked in his brain, and Napoleon let out a sigh. "For what it's worth--."
"Napoleon, take a hike and talk to me when I'm not in such a foul mood, which would be probably sometime around next month."
Knowing a brick wall when he hit one, Napoleon left to find Illya and see if he could help him with this situation.
Illya looked up at Napoleon sat down in his own desk with a sigh. "Celeste didn't want to speak to you?"
"I'm suddenly reminded of an Affair not long ago when she wouldn't talk to you, and I see how you feel. Elaine is one thing...that girl..."
Illya nodded, smiling a little. "What did you catch her doing?"
"Reading a comic. A rather...graphic, violent comic. I don't know what about, but it had this skinny man ripping open someone's skull."
Illya frowned. "Johnny the Homicidal Maniac? She was reading that at work?"
Napoleon frowned at him. "How do you know that?"
"She let me borrow it once. It's rather odd, but interesting in it's own way. Some of the movies are worse..."
"Like the one you were watching when we put you two to bed?"
"Yes, like that one...it was called Seven, about someone killing according to the Seven Deadly Sins. An interesting look at our future."
Napoleon shook his head at that. "I just hope that I'll be able to see Elaine and apologize fully for what's happened. Things are a little...awkward between us now."
Illya cast him a glance then sighed. "If you say they are awkward, I suspect you will not see Elaine again until New Years, and it will be for her to tell you what's on her mind."
Napoleon groaned. "I was afraid you'd say that."
Waverly looked over at the red-haired time-traveler who insisted on standing after she had given back her report, which followed close to how Napoleon had told it, though added in reasons for actions as well as a slight recommendation that she be punished for it.
"I hope you do not think this is a hearing, Miss Salomon," he started, "though granted, I do take your recommendation into thought. What happened while you were under the effects of Capsule B has left you—how shall I say—unsure of how to act around Mr. Solo. While I do admit that many others in our organization have had the same type of problem, I have never seen them react in such a manner."
He held up his hand when she started to talk. "You wanted a hearing, and while I said it wasn't, that doesn't mean you are to protest what I am saying. I am viewing the facts from four different sources, only one of which is yourself; the others are two who know each other quite well, and the last is the only one in this office who knows you quite well. She is a good friend and your only companion from your own time, and she doesn't feel that it is necessary for you to be punished for what happens, though if she knows the full extent of it is up to what you have told her."
He looked back at Elaine, who was blushing lightly and looking down at the floor. Waverly put some tobacco in his pipe before continuing, "Effective tomorrow, you shall work the night shifts in Translations...our current member has left on maternity leave. Your hours being what they are, you will probably have to sleep most of the day, as your shift ends at 7 am and begins again at 9 pm. As Mr. Solo works days and we have him being sent out on another assignment after Medical has cleared him, I assume that is good enough for now." Elaine paused her protest and Waverly nodded. "Go and tell your supervisor, then I suggest you get some rest. You will, most likely, need it."
"Night shifts?" Celeste frowned, "So turning into the troll again...why'd you do that? For that matter, why am I here?"
Waverly frowned at her. "You are her friend. I suspect you are taking care of her?"
Celeste nodded, giving a smile full of sarcasm. "As much as one can in this business. I heard Napoleon and Illya are off on another adventure tomorrow." She sighed.
"Another matter is one coming up in a month. I hope she has enough sleep to deal with it," he passed her the file and she frowned.
"A Chairman from...I don't speak what she does, Mr. Waverly."
"I know," he told her, a small smile on his face as he added, "but I do know that we will need some help in translating and she is our best. Would you think you two can read up on current events quickly enough to be ready for his visit? It starts during Thanksgiving and ends around Christmas."
Celeste sighed, looking at the file then nodded. "We'll do what we can. After all, what else is there to do here?"