Notes: I know I Spy wasn't much for gadgets, but…
Kelly is standing in the bathroom, putting th finishing touches on his appearance before leaving on a solo assignment. The tiles of the bathroom are shiny white behind him, the steel frame of the mirror glinting in the bright fluorescents. Toothpaste foams around his mouth, and Scotty watches his reflection obliquely through the connecting door as he rinses, spits gradually clearing water into the sink. Kelly's intent on his own image in the mirror, eyes hardening, freshly-shaven jaw tightening, as he opens his mouth wide, retrieves an object from his kit and screws it into the back of his mouth, way, way back, to the right, in a molar.
Scotty thinks the sound of his stomach dropping might just be audible in the bathroom.
It isn't, but his involuntary step forward is. Kelly's eyes flicker to the mirror, and they stare each other down through the shiny glass.
What the hell do you think you're doing, Scotty stares, hard, his face tight.
SOP, Kelly challenges, eyes flitting away from Scotty's reflection to examine his own, scrubbing his cheek with a towel, unconsciously rubbing at the spot over the molar where that – thing – is inserted.
Since when? We agreed never to use those and you know it, Jack. Scotty's lips tighten. He stays right where he is, immovable.
In a few moments, Kelly lays down his towel. His eyes are narrowed as he raises them again to the mirror. I know how you'd feel if it-became necessary, but… I have to.
Have to?
Kelly's jaw clenches, and Scotty has to fight off a stab of panic, that he'll rupture the capsule right then and there, and… Scotty takes a step forward, unable for the moment to maintain his cool façade.
He doesn't know what Kelly sees in his expression, but it's enough to make Kel turn to face him.
Scotty nearly opens his mouth. He nearly speaks, he nearly asks what exactly Kelly thinks he's doing to him, what Kelly thinks Scotty'll do without him if he uses that thing, how Kelly dares follow Department procedure instead of the code of honor the two of them set up so long ago now, because however much they may fight and bicker, each other is the one thing they can't really afford to lose.
He nearly speaks, but he doesn't. Because Kelly has that hard, determined glint in his narrowed eyes. The eyes of a predator, but a predator backed into a corner. and Scotty knows what Kelly's telling him. If they capture me again… if they try to make me talk… Not as young as I used to be, man. I don't think I can… hold out, anymore.
A car horn sounds in the street outside their balcony; someone's radio is faintly playing "Que Sera Sera." A Vespa putters by, rounding the little square below.
Scotty doesn't think there's been a time in his life he's ever felt so much sadness. Like the cat standing in front of him is a stranger. Like he's a stranger too.
Because, after an eternity of silence, he bows his head, and turns away.
Notes, again: This shattered me to write. I think this might probably be canon-ish, more than all the affectionate schmoop I write, and that's what shattered me. 'Shana', 'Laya', that Culp ep with France Nuyen where Scotty plants a bug on Kelly, 'Turnabout' where Kelly goes off alone: there are lots of eps out there that show the dark side of the job, show that they can't, or don't, or won't, always protect one another, and much as I'd wanted to end this with Scotty reassuring Kelly that he'll never have to use the cyanide capsule when Scotty's around, like when he was in that helicopter keeping watch over Kelly in 'The Tiger', I think 'canon realism' would probably be this bleak. Please tell me I'm wrong. OTOH, perhaps a sequel…