There was a devastating storm that had blown in and we'd taken shelter from it in a nearby abandoned farmhouse. The sky had been red that morning and being a seaman I knew that we were in for a good one.
I turned to Illya repeating the familiar mantra "Red sky at morning, sailor take warning, red sky at night; sailor's delight."
He gave me one of his serious looks, feeling the need to offer up a scientific explanation. "That means that the setting sun is sending it's light through a high concentration of dust particles which often indicates a high pressure and stabile air coming in from the West, in other words fair weather.
"but..." I rolled my eyes trying to stop his lecture.
"Now a red sunrise reflects the dust of a of a weather system that has just passed from the west. This means a storm system may be moving to the east. If the morning sun is a fiery red as it was this morning, that means there is a high water concentration in the atmosphere. So rain is on it's way. Shakespeare used that bit of weather folklore in his poem Venus and Adonis."
"Okay, fine. But my way of putting it was much simpler and picturesque. You know sometimes a rose is just a rose...?"
He looked at me but said nothing in response.
We hunkered down, weathering the pretty violent storm. Having the luck to find a few candles, some edible crackers and peanut butter in the larder, and a dusty bottle of whiskey in a cabinet. The next morning there was a cloudless blue sky; surveying the damage outside we counted ourselves lucky to have found our safe house. The car was fine, so we took off to continue our assigned task.
Two Thrush goons surprised us in the small satrap we had been sent to destroy and at least we managed a get away right after the explosives had been planted and successfully detonated remotely. Our job was done.
But Illya was not so lucky as one of them had managed to dart him into oblivion. I hiked him over my shoulder, dumping him into the passenger seat of the car then pulled away before I set off the explosions. Shame he had to miss it as I knew he always enjoyed watching his handiwork and seeing that part of a mission come to fruition.
Illya sat beside me, his head laying back on the seat while I made a leisurely retreat along a tree-lined country road; I would have considered it very scenic and pleasant had I not still been focused on our recent situation. I wasn't happy about the Thrush having gotten the jump on us.
The air blew in through the open passenger window ruffling the Russian's blond locks and seemed to wake him from his drug induced stupor a little quicker than usual. He looked unhappy, but that was to be expected.
Thrush darts have a particularly bad effect on Illya, not only making him more surly, but sometimes physically ill.
He turned to me, looking just a bit droopy-eyed. "Pull over please?" he asked quietly.
I watched as Illya got out of the car, walking a little weak-legged figuring he was going to be sick as he headed towards a fair sized oak tree nestled beside a field of wild flowers alive with butterflies.
He sat down by the tree, proceeding to remove his jacket and tie, his shirt and taking off his shoes and socks.
I thought that something was wrong as I exited the car, following him as I worried for a second that he was becoming a bit delusional. This wasn't his normal behavior after Thrush drugs filled his system.
When I reached him he was leaning back against the sunny side of the tree, staring out into the field, his eyes shielded by his dark glasses. He had a fist full of flowers and green grass in his hand.
"Hey you okay tovarisch? Something going on that I should know about?"
"Da and Nyet, to answer your questions in the order in which they were asked."
"Then why the striptease?"
"Napoleon, one of the side effects of a Thrush dart...at least on me is a heightened sense of awareness, a hypersensitivity so to speak. Hence my headaches. We are usually in the most unpleasant of places when I wake up from these things...a musty cellar, dingy hotel, a trash-filled alley reeking of eau de urine."
"But this time there is a beautiful meadow and and I am taking in it's pleasantries...the warmth of the sun, the scent of the flowers and growing things... the feel of the earth beneath my feet. It is quite extraordinary, though in spite of my headache, I am enjoying these augmented sensations. The colors are so vivid, the scents almost intoxicating. And to think, I have Thrush to thank for this? You should try taking off your shoes and socks...better still, rid yourself of your jacket and tie as well. Enjoy the fresh air... the moment. Just think, no one is trying to kill us right now?"
"Who are you and what have you done with my partner." I asked as I was sure my mouth had to be hanging open.
He smiled at me, a genuinely happy smile, in spite of the fact that I knew that he was still in pain.
"A very wise man once told me that sometimes a rose is just a rose..."
I stared at Illya for a moment, smiling back at him. Then proceeded to remove my clothing as he had suggested; sitting down there beside my friend to join him in his reverie.
Together we let out a collective sigh.
I'm sure I wasn't experienceing what he was, but it still felt good. It was like the calm after the storm...
Smart Russian.