The prompt: Illya Kuryakin and Napoleon Solo were often told they were meant to be enemies, but neither man was accepting of being told what to think.
The Theme: Contrasts
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Illya Kuryakin and Napoleon Solo were often told they were meant to be enemies, but neither man was accepting of being told what to think.
It was that sort of stubbornness that helped drive their partnership and eventual friendship. Who would have thought an American and a Soviet could work together much less become best of friends; no one quite got that in the beginning.
Solo was the cheerful optimistic and charming ladies man while Kuryakin was always dark, mysterious and often somber.
They were both very different men yes, opposites like yin and yang, then again not. They were very much the same in their devotion to duty that was the tie that, at first, bound them together.
Even to Waverly's surprise the two men made their partnership work beyond his wildest dreams, though he was hesitant to pair them. His intentions were to get both men over their balking about adamantly wanting to work alone.
His partnering these two worked, though it was off to a rather prickly start at first. Then something clicked, and they became a true team, working well together... perhaps a bit too well.
Their friendship gave Waverly concern that such closeness might overshadow their missions.
Yet time and again as they came to the other's rescue, they still managed to complete their assignments with little to no disruption.
Alexander Waverly finally turned a blind eye to his agent's apparent familial attachment to each other.
The rain was coming down in torrents; Solo and Kuryakin were drenched as they hadn't been prepared for this sort of deluge.
Illya was cradling his right arm, having been hit by a bullet in the bicep. He tried dismissing it as a mere flesh wound, a graze, but it was deep enough to cause plenty of bleeding.
Though Kuryakin pooh-poohed it, Napoleon wrapped his belt around the arm, using it as a tourniquet until they could get the wound treated.
"Me think thou dost protest too much," Solo sputtered, blowing away the rain from his mouth.
He knew Illya was lying, he always did when he was injured. Not that the Russian was incapable of acknowledging his pain, or crying out, but he sometimes bordered on martyrdom when it came to such things.
Solo was just as strong, but when he was wounded he wouldn't hide it, unless it was from the enemy of course. In a way he was slightly less heroic than his stoic Russian friend.
Neither man liked being cooped up in a hospital bed, as most agents, but when it came to medical treatment Solo would soak it up, mostly because of the pretty nurses who would be taking care of him.
Kuryakin on the other hand was a heller. He generally didn't care about the nurses, pretty or not, and tended to terrorize them until he could get himself released from his hospital stay.
Within reason, the doctors caved to his demands in order to to keep some of their less senior nursing staff from quitting. Most agents were fuss budgets when it came to being stuck in the medical suite, but by far Illya Kuryakin was the worst of the lot.
Their current assignment resulted in Solo coming to his headstrong partner's rescue; Illya, though wounded, insisted he could take care of himself but Napoleon would hear nothing of it.
Help wouldn't arrive from the local UNCLE office any time soon because of the severity of the weather...if you could call Houston local. It was well over two-hundred miles away. The distance and the storm made the arrival of 'the cavalry' per se, problematic until the morning. That left Solo and Kuryakin on their own.
The outcome of their mission left them without a car, thanks bullets hitting their tires, as well as Illya.
The UNCLE agents had taken care of destroying the satrapy, but sadly the other vehicles there fell victim to the efficiency of Kuryakin's explosive pyrotechnics. That was inadvertent on his part as the house exploded in such a way that is set off a chain reaction and the gas tanks in the cars parked nearby were set off.
" Nice job," Napoleon said, though there was obvious sarcasm in his voice.
"Thank you, it was rather spectacular, was it not?" Illya grinned.
That was before Solo saw him holding his arm with a bloody hand. Of course after arguing back and forth with Illya wanting his partner to leave and go get would hear nothing of it. In the end he convinced his partner otherwise stating he'd probably bleed out if he remained behind.
Napoleon was right, it was best to find shelter from the storm and try to treat his wound.
That's when an alternate form of transportation came in handy…
They finally arrived at a curious little hamlet, though they didn't even know its name. Lucken...something? It was hard to read the only sign hanging in front of the general store while the rain was coming down. It was dark as there were no street lamps.
The crack of a thunderclap shattered the air, and luckily the horses they were riding hadn't bolted from the sound that seemed to echo on forever.
Illya wasn't doing well, his head was drooping and he was barely able to hold himself astride his horse.
The owner of the general was locking up for the night, hidden beneath a red umbrella; Solo called to him, asking if there was a doctor in town.
They were directed 'down the road a piece' to Doc Barlow's home; Napoleon had no doubt he was a real country doctor, but he'd have to do.
Illya grumbled, likening this Doc Barlow to someone who treated livestock, and not human beings.
"Will you knock it off, you haven't even met the guy and you're already complaining about him. Just cheer up, I'm sure he'll be fine. May I remind you that I did ask for a doctor and not a veterinarian."
"Will you please cease your endless Boy Scout enthusiasm."
"Well one of us has to stay positive."
"Napoleon, enough!" Illya growled.
Solo knew by the way Illya was acting that he was hurting. He'd been around his partner long enough to get that about him.
They finally arrived at 'Dr. M. Barlow's' or so the wooden sign read by the mailbox.
Helping the uncooperative Russian down from the horse was impossible as he insisted upon dismounting himself, but after Illya nearly fell he tolerated Napoleon's intervention.
If it weren't for the fact that Kuryakin was a gifted horseman, he might never have even made it this far.
After climbing three steps to the porch while hanging onto his partner, keeping him steady, Napoleon knocked on the doctor's door.
A handsome woman answered, opening it half way.
He guessed her to be in her mid- fifties with just a hint of grey in the temples of her long chestnut colored hair. She was was wearing a floral house dress, and a bulky knit blue cardigan sweater over it. Topping off her ensemble were a pair black rubber rain boots.
'My apologies for disturbing you; is the doctor in Ma'am?"
"Yes but it's late." She seemed reluctant at first, but then she saw Illya's bloody arm.
"Oh good Lord, please come inside."
"Thank you," Illya said. Still not letting on to having a hard time of it, still he let his partner continue to help him.
Napoleon apologized for their dripping on the floor as they were both soaked through.
"Never you mind! That's what they make mops for. Now come along to the examination room fellas."
She led her visitors to a room just off the foyer and instructed Illya to sit on a sturdy wooden chair, rather than make him climb up onto the stainless steel exam table.
Carefully removing his suit jacket, she took a pair of surgical scissors and cut away his blood stained shirt.
Illya had a number of dark bruises along his rib cage and a fair amount of cuts in addition to the gunshot wound.
"The doctor Ma'am?" Napoleon looked with apprehension.
"Oh sorry," she spoke while examining Illya's arm, quickly assessing the wound and cleaning it with an antiseptic laced cotton ball held with a surgical clamp.
"I should have introduced myself. I'm Doctor Maggie Barlow."
"Pleasure to meet you Doctor," Illya grimaced, as the antiseptic stung but that's as far as he'd acknowledge the discomfort. "My name is Arne Janssen, and my friend here is…"
"Eddie King," Napoleon finished the sentence for him.
The doctor studied each man for a second.
"Mmm-huh. Two men come in soaked through from a hell of a storm late at night, stinking of wet horse…and you're not exactly dressed to ride much less be out on a night like this. One of you has a bullet wound, lacerations and severe bruising so why wouldn't I not suspect that neither of you is telling me his real name? I wasn't born yesterday boys."
Napoleon pursed his lips, and drawing his gold ID card from his wallet, he showed it to her.
"Napoleon Solo… U-N-C-L-E. Hmm, I like the name Eddie King better. Never heard of this United Network Command for Law and Enforcement. So you're some sort of lawman I take it."
Solo bobbed his head side to side," Yes sort of…"
"And you?" She looked at Illya as she prepared to stitch up his arm.
"Illya Kuryakin; I am Mister Solo's partner."
"That name is Russian and your accent tells me you weren't born here. A bit surprising that you and an American would be partners. You don't exactly look like you go together."
"Is there a problem with that?"Illya asked.
"Oh not at all son, but given there's a Cold War on right now, you working together is kind of a surprise. Heck, my late husband was Russian, born here though, but his father was from the old country, Belorussia is what he called it. Barlow's my maiden name. So now that we got that out of the way; I need to sew up that wound. Luckily there's no bullet fragments in there. Looks like it went clean through. Still, I'm going to give you a local for the pain."
"No pain killer." Illya waved his hand. "I will be fine."
The woman screwed up her face before she harrumphed."Are you sure?"
"Absolutely, now please continue."
"Hmmm, a real tough guy."
"You have no idea,"Solo mumbled.
Illya remained stone-faced during the procedure, and once the stitching up was done she prepared two shots to administer to him.
He held up his hand again. "What are those?"
"Antibiotic and a B12 shot."
"I am allergic to penicillin."
"Don't worry your little heart, it's ampicillin." She jabbed the needles one after the other into his left deltoid.
"My for a little fella you're pretty muscular. I'll bet there's not an ounce of fat on you. Though you are a might pale, maybe anemic. Your blood loss didn't help I'm sure."
"No, I am not anemic. Just naturally fair skinned, most Slavs are." There was a definite attitude in his response.
Napoleon hid his smile as Illya sounded a bit put out, probably because she called him 'little.'
She didn't say anything else as she cleaned his cuts with more antiseptic, covering a few of them with ordinary bandaids. The bruises were nothing serious, no broken ribs. She noted there were a lot of scars on that fair skin of his, but she decided they weren't any of her business. Sometimes it was better not to ask anymore questions.
"I'll be right back." Maggie disappeared for a few minutes, returning with two grey sweatshirts, matching sweatpants, and cotton socks for both her visitors as well as a sling for Illya's arm.
"The clothes were my son's; you'll need to get out of those wet things. Don't need either of you catching a chill."
"Were ?" Solo asked.
"Yes, he passed a few months ago. He was killed by ...well, hope you don't mind wearing them. I'm sure he wouldn't; he was a real generous good natured boy."
"Thank you Doctor, but we really should get going. How much do we owe you?" Napoleon asked.
"In this weather? You were drenched mighty bad and you will be again if you go out on horseback, and as far as a charge, heck this is the most excitement I've had in a month of Sundays, so forget about it...on the house. After you change, come down the hall to the kitchen. You two look like you could use a good meal; how do home fries, scrambled eggs, steak, Texas toast and hot coffee sound? Oh and leave your wet clothes here and I'll take care of them."
She smiled when she saw Kuryakin perk up at the mention of food.
"Might you have tea," the Russian demurely asked.
"Oh I think I can rustle up some for you," Maggie smiled.
"May I ask, what is Texas toast?"
"Well it's just the best thing ever out of Dallas. Double thick slices of toasted bread buttered on both sides, with a bit of garlic."
Napoleon smiled, thinking it just sounded like regular garlic bread but then again he knew everything was always bigger in Texas. He could just imagine what 'double thick' meant.
Maggie, in the meantime, saw to the horses as she had a barn out back of the house. She led them there and gave them a quick curry. Having a horse of her own, there was already plenty of hay and feed for them.
"I think our doctor friend is almost too good to be true," Illya said. He was able to get into the sweat pants, but the sweatshirt and socks were another story.
Napoleon watched him trying to get his clothes on until he finally had enough."You know you can be a real stubborn pain in the ass sometimes."
Illya stopped struggling. "Yes, I know. Is it not one of my endearing qualities my friend?" He paused for a moment, then laughed.
"And I wouldn't have it any other way," Napoleon winked as he knelt, helping Illya with his next trick was getting on the sweatshirt, though as expected the Russian made no indication he was in pain when he raised his arms like a little tyke for Solo to pull the garment down over him.
"You okay?"
"Fine, as always."
"You are such a liar," Napoleon snickered.
"Again, part of my charm," Illya said.
"You actually made a joke tovarisch. Wow."
"Joke? I was not joking."
Napoleon shook his head as he rolled his eyes.
After taking their time changing the two agents sat together at the kitchen table covered with the proverbial red and white checkered tablecloth.
The room felt homey and welcoming, yet strong like a bastion against the raging storm outside. It was filled with the mouth watering scent of steaks sizzling in the pan with just a hint of onion and garlic in their air, and as well as the coffee the doctor had just brewed.
As each bit was ready, Maggie doled it out to the colorful serving platters on the table, and laughed as the two men just sat there.
She stared at them."Well, what you waiting for...dig in."
"Yes Ma'am," they said in unison.
Maggie removed her white apron, and finally sat down with them, filling her plate as well.
Solo watched as Illya struggled cutting the meat with his steak knife.
"Let me do it for you," he offered.
"I am not a child."
"I know that, just let me help you and stop being so...?"
"Ornery," Maggie interjected.
"Yes, ornery," Napoleon parrotted the word.
"Fine." Illya set down his knife, obviously annoyed at his helplessness; he was hungry and wanted a piece of that steak.
Napoleon cut it up for his partner in nice edible pieces, though Illya didn't wait for him to finish and speared a morsel with his fork.
Maggie watched in amusement. She could tell these two were more than working partners, they were friends who took care of each other, and probably stood by each other through thick and thin, despite their obvious differences.
Finally, they ate in relative silence, but Napoleon couldn't help but broach the subject, asking what had happened to her son as she said he been killed.
"My Billy got nosy. He went looking for trouble and found it when he should have minded his own business."
"Where did he find this trouble?" Solo asked.
"Big D Ranch, just outside of town. It's owned by…"
"Daniel Chance McLean," Illya said.
"Why do I have a feeling you got that bullet wound courtesy of McLean?" She said, her brow furrowed. She always had a 'don't ask, don't tell' policy, but once she heard the name McLean, she couldn't help it.
"That is correct," Illya helped himself to another piece of Texas toast as he at least didn't need help with that.
"Mr. McLean however, will no longer be giving anyone trouble."
"Dead?"
"Yes Ma'am,"Napoleon nodded."Along with most of his henchmen. You see they worked for an organization called T.H.R.U.S.H."
"Thrush like in the bird?" She asked.
"Not quite," Napoleon smiled." It stands for The Technological Hierarchy for the Removal of Undesirables and the Subjugation of Humanity."
"Well there's a mouthful if ever I heard one. Don't that beat all, Big D finally got his comeuppance. Good Lord, this is a happy day! Calls for something a bit stronger than coffee and tea. Boys, how about a shot of some of the good stuff… for medicinal purposes."
Maggie winked at them while taking a bottle of Jack Daniels from one of the cabinets; she grabbed three glasses and set them on the table. Pouring the whisky like a pro right to the rim of each glass, she raised her glass with them, offering a toast.
"Here's to some good bird hunting!"
"I'll drink to that!" Napoleon laughed.
Illya swallowed his, not saying anything.
"So where you boys headed from here?" Maggie poured another round.
"A local hotel, perhaps you could direct us to one?" Illya answered. "We have contacted our organization for extraction but that will not be possible until morning because of the inclement weather."
"Extraction!" Maggie let out a laugh. "Sounds like dentistry! Heck, nearest hotel is more than ten miles away. I have a couple of extra rooms. You two are welcome to bunk here tonight."
"Might we borrow your car instead,"Illya said,"I assure you it would be returned to you in perfect condition."
"Nope, can't do that because I don't own one."
"How do you treat your patients?"
"They come here or they fetch me to go to them. Though there's not a lot of folks in these here parts anymore."
"Which is why McLean set up shop in the area, few witnesses," Napoleon added.
"Now I insist y'all stay here, Storm doesn't sound like it'll be letting up anytime soon."
"We wouldn't want to be any trouble Ma'am," Solo answered .
"Will you quit it with the ma'am stuff. Makes me feel like an old lady. Just call me Maggie and it'll be no trouble at all. Besides, it'll give me a chance to check on Illya's stitches in the morning."
"How can we refuse such an offer," Illya shrugged with one shoulder before he bit into a piece of bacon.
His eyes were beginning to feel very heavy. The trauma from his injuries, blood loss, being drenched on the ride to town, as well as the riding of a horse had taken their toll. And now a heavy meal and whisky on top of it all were finally sapping his remaining energy.
He yawned.
"I think it's high time you headed off to bed,"Maggie rose, reaching for the dishes,
"Here, let me take care of that," Napoleon tried to take them from her. "It's the least I can do to thank you for your gracious hospitality."
"Fair enough, but I'll wash, you dry," she handed him a dish towel.
There was bright flash of lightning followed by a thunderclap so loud that it shook the windows. The lights flickered and two seconds later they went out.
"Dang it!" Maggie half swore, banging round in the dark.
"I have some candles here somewhere."
"Wait,"Napoleon said. He held up his Zippo lighter and flicked it on, giving Maggie enough light to find the box of candles.
She lit just one, and that enabled her to get to an oil lamp set aside in a corner.
It was then Napoleon spotted his partner sound asleep with his head on the table.
"That extra shot I gave him wasn't B12, it was something to knock him out," she whispered."He must have some constitution as it took pretty long to kick in. I know you said he was tough, but this is really impressive."
"As I said Maggie, you have no idea."
"Well I guess the dishes can wait until morning. Might as well head up to bed. Can you handle him okay Napoleon?"
"You did see that he's a bit on the skinny side, right?"
"True," Maggie laughed," but the way he packed away the food tonight, made me wonder where he puts it all." She watched as Solo hefted his limp friend over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.
Maggie led the way up the stairs. "Those two rooms are yours, bathroom is down the hall. "
She handed Napoleon a candle set in an old fashioned holder and lit it from the lantern.
"Good night, sleep tight and don't let the bed...well get a good night's sleep; I don't have bed bugs," she chuckled. "Oh there's oil lamps in your bedrooms too."
"Good night Maggie and thanks for going above and beyond the call of duty."
"Heck, my daddy was in the Marine Corps. I was raised right by him and mama."
That made Napoleon smile. "Semper Fidelis, though I was an army man myself, as was my dad."
"Well I won't hold that against you," she snickered before opening her bedroom door and disappearing for the night.
Napoleon laid his now snoring partner on the bed, leaving him in his sweats and socks; he simply put the covers over Illya and tucked him in.
"Good night buddy," he whispered before heading off to his room. "You're a tougher man than I am Gunga Din."
He lit the oil lamp, stripped off his sweats and collapsed in his underwear onto the bed with sigh, suddenly feeling dog tired.
Napoleon groaned as he realized he needed to use the bathroom, and not bothering to dress, he carried the lamp with him down the hall. Out of habit he brought his gun with him as well.
There was a window just above the toilet, and lightning flashed making it appear as bright like day. The thunder rumbled low and long in the distance.
It was then his saw them, two shadowy figures wearing cowboy hats coming towards the house in the pouring rain. He blew out the lamp and quickly stepped into the hall.
In the shadows he could see the woman's door was open. "Maggie, " he whispered, but she didn't answer.
He slowly crept down the stairs, hoping there weren't any creaky steps, though he didn't recall any while coming up them.
The front door was wide open, and the two figures were just inside, silhouetted by another flash of lightning.
"Bang! Bang!"
Two shots went off and Napoleon ducked, aiming his gun to return fire, but the men were already on the floor.
The lights suddenly flickered back to life and there was Maggie standing in a flannel nightgown with a smoking shotgun in her hands. Her hair had been pulled back into a tight braid, making her appear younger.
She turned, seeing Napoleon at the foot of the stairs in his skivvies and holding a handgun.
"Not going to let any varmints get away with breaking into my house."
"I see that," Napoleon walked to the bodies, turning them over to see the faces. "These are the last of McLean's men."
"Well good riddance to them too." Maggie disappeared and came back with two body bags.
"Help me get them in these. We'll put them in my exam room until we can call the Sheriff in Fredericksburg in the morning. Wouldn't want to drag Andy out in this weather. He can be pretty ornery when he gets woken up in the middle of the night."
"I don't think calling Sheriff Andy will be necessary. My organization will take care of them; they'll be swept under the rug, in a manner of speaking. These men were agents of THRUSH and we have our own way of handling them, alive or dead."
"Fine by me Napoleon."
Together they bagged the bodies and dragged them into the exam room.
Napoleon had completely forgotten he was dressed only in his undershorts, though he wasn't embarrassed.
"Excuse my appearance Maggie, when I saw them coming I just reacted…"
"Oh quit it. You don't think I haven't seen a man in his undergarments before, much less without them. I was married for thirty years until my husband Ivan died, and I grew up with three brothers to boot."
"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Napoleon smiled.
"Now git, there's a few hours left before sunup. Get some sleep."
"Yes Ma'am," this time Napoleon saluted her but all she could do was laugh at him.
Solo woke up around eight in the morning to the smell of frying bacon and coffee. He went to the bathroom, took a quick shower after which he looked in on his partner. Kuryakin wasn't in his bed, so had to be downstairs.
Sure enough Illya was in the kitchen with Maggie drinking a cup of tea and munching on a piece of toast.
"Good morning you two."
"Good morning, help yourself to some coffee. It's on the stove." Maggie pointed.
Napoleon sat down beside his partner with his mug of Joe and took a sip, savoring the flavor that had a hint of chicory.
"Sleep well Illya?"
"I have not had that sound a sleep in a very long time. If I did not know better I would suspect that Maggie slipped me something." He eyed her with those baby blues of his.
"Me?" She smiled innocently." Why would I do that to you? You were plum exhausted that's all, that was easy to see."
Maggie stepped behind Illya, giving a wink to Napoleon as she doled out their bacon and eggs.
After breakfast was cleaned up, the doctor took a look at Illya's arm in the exam room. He kept staring at the body bags laying on the floor until he could no longer contain his curiosity.
"What may I ask are those, and how did they get here?"
"A couple of birdies tried to get in during the storm last night but Maggie took care of them with her 12 gauge double-barrelled shotgun," Solo grinned.
"Yep, it was my daddy's," she announced,"and he made sure I knew how to use it."
Kuryakin showed no surprise as he was acquainted with a fair few women who were skilled with a gun. Maggie came across as pretty rugged and talented, to say the least.
Napoleon's communicator chirped and he was told their ride had arrived as had the clean up crew.
They'd already been to McLean's ranch or what was left of it, which now through some legal maneuvering would belong to UNCLE.
The house had been demolished through Kuryakin's handiwork with explosives. To anyone that asked, they would be told the house it and the occupants suffered a lightning strike; everything and everyone gone in the subsequent fire.
The land would be sold and the proceeds added to the coffers of the Command for use in their efforts to protect the world.
The clean up team parked their blue van in front of the house and entered the house after Napoleon greeted them at the door; he directed them to the bodies which were quickly removed without the team saying a word.
Maggie walked the boys out to the awaiting black sedan. They were now now dressed in their freshened up and pressed suits, though she couldn't patch up the hole in Illya's jacket sleeve, but she did find a clean shirt to replace his ruined one.
Napoleon was impressed with this woman's spunk and energy. She'd killed two Thrushmen without batting an eye, got up early to see to their clothing and cooked them breakfast...not to mention her taking care of Illya.
"What about your horses?" She asked.
"They are yours to keep,"Illya nodded.
"Maggie, we can't thank you enough for your help. If you're interested, UNCLE could use a good woman like you," Solo winked.
She blushed,"Heck, I think I'm a little old to be doing the things you boys probably do."
"Ahhh, but there are many different postings within the organization," Illya said.
"In case you change your mind, or need anything...here's my card." Napoleon leaned forward, giving her a peck on the cheek. Kuryakin hesitated, but he too gave her a kiss and whispered his thanks to her.
Napoleon gave her one last wave as he followed his partner into the backseat of their car.
Maggie Barlow stood there as both vehicles drove off, watching until they became lost on the horizon.
"Dang, if that don't beat all. Hmmm," she looked at Solo's card, half tempted to take him up on his offer.