A/N: Hey there! This is my first Man from UNCLE fanfic (maybe not my last?), and I wish I could've made this longer for you potential readers out there, but alas, here it is. Honestly, I just needed to write about this scene from the movie because it stuck with me afterward, though I don't know why.

Anyway, I hope you find some enjoyment in reading it :)

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Illya's vision came back hazy when he first attempted to open his eyes. At first all he could make out was dark colors and movement. He didn't get a chance to look for long before he was forced to shut his eyes again to keep the mud and water out of them. What he privately considered the weaker part of his mind told him to stay like that, eyes shut and body compliant to its own exhausted demands. Yet his training and iron will commanded him to open his eyes again, blurred vision be damned.

This time he could recognize two distinct figures. Dark-clothed. Male. Aggressive. Before he could process much else, his mind went into overdrive, trying to put faces and names together, though the entire ordeal felt like trying to put a puzzle together while slogging through molasses. Despite the sorry state of his scrambled brain, Illya tried his hardest to determine the two figures to be friend or foe.

All things considered, including a nasty knock to the head acquired during his tumble down the hillside, it was surprisingly easy to determine which side he was on.

Immediately, the aggression in the two figures had put him on alert. Only now, though, as he was trying to sort through his own haze of confusion and pain, did Illya realize that one figure was losing a fight with the other. With that realization came a name: Solo. He felt adrenaline flood his veins once again, alongside an urge he would never dare to admit was suspiciously close to protect. And so his allegiance was determined.

He began to struggle against the heavy weight of his mangled motorcycle above him as the aggressor, Vinciguerra, his memory reminded him, of the fight came at his opponent with quick, punishing strikes of some kind of wrench. Illya could barely see what exactly was happening, blurred vision as it was and all, but he could tell that Solo was faltering. He was losing his footing in the wet mud and disorientation of the intentional car accident. Not to mention his lack of a weapon, and his weakened state from his encounter with electricity earlier.

Illya remained trapped under the useless hunk of metal as Vinciguerra closed in again and sent Solo sprawling to the ground. He watched as a flash of orange came from behind the Italian and leapt onto his back. Gaby. Vinciguerra threw her off easily enough, and Illya felt something akin to the calm before a storm settle over him. Damn his body's limitations; if he didn't succeed in intervening, and soon, Solo and Gaby would both be dead and Vinciguerra would be in full possession of a nuclear warhead. As far as Illya was concerned, there was but a single option at his disposal. Succeed.

Vinciguerra was clearly strong and mere moments from claiming victory, but Illya was strong too. Watching the people he'd been working with get tossed around and having the fear of defeat looming over his head initiated a surge of that strange, unidentifiable feeling again, and he strained anew against the heavy weight on top of him. This time it would be enough. It had to be. Sheer determination, adrenaline, and his own enviable strength worked in his favor at last.

And the tide of the fight began to turn.

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Thanks for reading! I do hope you decide to review as well. I would love to hear your thoughts!

Oh, and if there are any potential Man from UNCLE fanfic writers out there, I'd love to read some Solo-whump, or a little bromance between our favorite spies :)

Thanks again!