Entry from personal diary of

Illya Kuryakin

11/03/1965

The day started out so well, but then the very worst days in history often do. I don't want to write this down. I'm not too good at keeping a diary, I'm always worried about someone finding and reading it, but there are some things that need to be exorcised in order to be able to put them completely behind me…and I am afraid this is one of them.

Napoleon and I had been working on a case in southern California, and as we had rounded up all the troublemakers, we had been contacted by Mr. Waverly directing us to stop over in Los Angeles for an hour to pick up a package to deliver back to HQ. Fine, what's the problem with that? Messenger servicing is supposedly one of the simpler tasks we section two agents are involved in; even though it is often more hazardous than one would normally believe. This seemed to be no problem. The only problem, we had been directed to collect this package from a lost luggage office at one of the city railway stations.

Ok, ours not to question why, after all. We get there and find the main office is closed, and we are sent down several levels to what seemed to be the depths of the earth in order to find the duty manager and get him to retrieve our package for us from the closed offices. Something seemed fishy about this from the start, but when Napoleon called Mr. Waverly to check the details of the pickup, they were confirmed. We decided on caution, so we kept our wits about us and our eyes open wide for troublemakers. Nothing obvious. I could see though that Napoleon was as uncomfortable about all this as I was. There were so many people coming and going all over the staircases, and on the lower levels, many of the doors to the stairwells were locked fast to keep out the public, so we inevitably found ourselves on the elevator.

Big mistake.

The first thing we knew was a massive boom from somewhere above us, and then the feeling that the elevator was in freefall. We crouched on the floor, knowing that there was nothing we could do to avoid a very sticky end, when the emergency braking system finally started working and stopped our car just about a foot off the ground. Before we had the chance to remove the top hatch and get ourselves out of there, what sounded like a ton of rubble falling down the elevator shaft landed on top of us. We felt the elevator shaking, and as the rocks and masonry kept falling, it finally lost its grip and fell the last foot to the ground, almost jarring our teeth out of our heads.

We tried all the normal things, pressing the help button and the emergency telephone, but clearly the power was off, or disconnected or something. Napoleon was back on his communicator to Mr. Waverly. He was a lot more polite that I would have been under the circumstances, but it seemed that Waverly was going to set our rescue in motion right away, so perhaps we wouldn't be stuck there for very long after all.

Yeah, right.

This is where this diary gets tricky. I have never found it easy to be open, and this problem in particular has a lot of very bad, even nightmarish memories for me which I have no desire to revisit. Let's just say that I have no problem with elevators, or cupboards or small rooms per se, because they have a distinct purpose, for which they are very useful. One is not accustomed to spending hours at a time in a small confined space like that…unless you are Napoleon Solo stealing a kiss from some female of course, but that is beside the point. However, I have a problem with confined spaces. A short time, when I know I can get out, not a problem. Stuck in a lift with no immediate prospect of escape? This is the stuff many of my worst nightmares are made of.

However, I managed to smile and converse and be my normal self. I think I even fooled my partner for a while, but I must say Napoleon knows me better than I had given him credit for. After half an hour had gone past, he started to look at me with concern in his eyes.

"Illya, are you okay?"

I shrugged, determined not to let my stupid irrational fears get the mastery over me.

"I'm fine Napoleon."

"You're sweating."

"I'm hot."

"You're hot? How can you be hot? It's cold in here."

"Well I come from a cold country remember. For me this is the middle of summer."

Napoleon clearly didn't believe me, but he knows when to stop probing anyway, I'll give him that. Just standing there was making me feel a lot worse, so I started to pace round and round the car. Napoleon didn't say any more, but he continued to watch me uneasily. I tried to ignore him and his glances. I was having enough trouble controlling myself. All I wanted to do was scream for help at the top of my lungs, and panic. I did neither, but it was definitely getting harder. I felt a hand on my arm. Napoleon was looking really worried about me. Bless, the man, I guess I would have reacted the same way if our positions were reversed.

"Why don't you sit and try to relax for a bit Illya?"

I couldn't just sit still, any more than fly to the moon. I kept pacing. I think though, my pacing must have been getting slightly quicker and more frantic, because Napoleon grabbed both of my arms and brought me to a sudden halt.

"Illya, we'll be out of here in a little while. Meantime you're going to wear yourself out. Sit and try to think of something else."

Reluctantly I looked up and saw only concern in those big brown eyes.

"I'm fine, really."

I couldn't have sounded very convincing. I think I said it really just to try and convince myself, but I wasn't fooling anyone. Least of all my partner.

"You suffer from claustrophobia, right? You have a big problem feeling trapped and unable to escape?"

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me down to the floor. I finally sat on the floor with my arms wrapped around my knees. Napoleon sat down beside me, still watching me carefully.

"We'll be out of here before too long. Mr. Waverly won't want his two best agents out of commission any longer than necessary."

I glanced up at the room, and closed my eyes tightly, certain I had seen the walls closing in around me, the ceiling coming down, losing height. I tried to focus my mind, concentrate on my breathing. I could feel my hands starting to shake.

" long have we been stuck in here Napoleon?" I didn't like the way my voice trembled.

"Forty minutes."

I couldn't help letting out a shaky sigh. I felt Napoleon's grip on my hand for a moment, and I saw him reach for his communicator. Suddenly, I grabbed it from him, shaking my head, feeling even more agitated. He looked really worried now.

"Illya, what is it pal?"

"Don't tell them. Don't. You can't!"

"But Illya, if they know you are…"

I shook my head. No way. It was bad enough that I was subject to these stupid fears, but to have everyone find out about it? I had no real idea what they would think of me if they all found out, but I knew what I would think of myself.

"Nobody can know Napoleon. I can handle it. I have to handle it. I have to beat it. Promise me you won't call. They know we're here, they'll get us out; but you can't tell anyone."

"But Illya, claustrophobia is nothing to be ashamed of. Have you always suffered from it?"

"Not always… for about…. Well, since I was in the Soviet Navy."

"So for the whole time I have known you, you have suffered from this and I have never known? Never even guessed? All the times we were captured and locked up in small cells by THRUSH, you have had this problem weighing on you and you've never let on?"

I shrugged.

"As I said, I can deal with it."

I glanced around the room again and closed my eyes with a shudder.

"At least, usually I can deal with it!"

"You are a truly courageous man, my friend."

"In the face of fears that I know are completely in my mind?"

"The dangers might be in your mind Illya, but that doesn't make the fears any less real. What do you usually do to cope?"

"Focus my mind on more important things. If I am being tortured, that always provides a sufficient source of distraction for me. If we are simply locked up, knowing that there is a way to escape if I look hard enough is often the best antidote to unnecessary fears."

"And right now?"

I forced myself to open my eyes, and looked round, feeling more panicky than I had felt for a long time. The walls of the elevator car were so close I felt I could reach out and touch them, and looming over me. I thought I saw the ceiling actually moving down fast enough to flatten me. I felt my body start to go into panic mode, my whole body starting to shake, my heart beating faster, I was starting to hyperventilate. Napoleon grabbed my hand and moved round so that he was directly in my field of vision. He took hold of both my hands and tried to stop them shaking.

"I am here Illya. Breathe slowly now. Look at me. Focus on me, and just breathe slowly."

I stared into his eyes and focused on slowing down my breathing. In, out. In, out. In, out. I felt my body start to cautiously ease up a little. My hands were still shaking and my mouth felt dry. I risked a glance up. The walls and roof of the elevator were all where I knew they should be. Where they had been all along. I heaved a big sigh of relief, and leaned back against the wall, laying my legs out flat on the floor. My heart was still pounding and my head ached, but still the elevator walls around me appeared to be staying put for now. Napoleon smiled slightly. He nodded.

"Good job my friend. You and I can get through anything if we stick together."

What happened next is not entirely clear to me, but it seems I must have fallen sleep. When I next opened my eyes, I heard a lot of loud commotion. Napoleon grinned at me and told me that we were being rescued.

"They've been clearing rubble for the last hour." He told me. I frowned.

"They have? How long have I been asleep?"

"You…er…dropped off about ninety minutes ago."

"You mean we've been here for more than two hours?"

"Yup. How are you doing Illya?"

I looked round, but the certain knowledge that rescue was imminent seemed to have softened the impact of our incarceration. As far as my claustrophobia went, I felt as normal as I could ever be under the circumstances.

"I'm doing all right. Napoleon…thank you for…you know."

He smiled at me.

"Hey, I'm your partner. What else are partners for?"

"How come I fell asleep? I wasn't sleepy."

"Hey Illya, you and sleep? You're famous for it. Any time, any place, anywhere."

"Yes, but only if I try to…Napoleon, I passed out didn't I?"

I couldn't believe it. Not just panicking for no good reason, passing out with terror? How could I live with myself now? My partner grabbed my chin and made me look at him. Curse the man, I really hope he doesn't make a habit out of reading my mind!

"Illya, I know what you're thinking…"

"I doubt it."

"You passed out with exhaustion."

"Exhaustion? Please Napoleon."

"Illya, believe me I know fear. It keeps you awake, taut, strung up and pumped full of adrenalin. But you beat it my friend. You defeated your fears like I knew you would. It leaves you feeling drained. That's why you slept. It's the body's way of dealing with the overdose of adrenalin." He gave a crooked smile. "The worst part is still to come."

I glared at him.

"What worst part?"

"You have to tell Mr. Waverly about your claustrophobia."

"No way. No way Napoleon."

"He has a right to know. You don't have to put it in your official report, but if he knows, then he can…"

"Start to make allowances for me? Or even leave me out of missions in case I start to panic? No way Napoleon."

"Listen my friend, you suffered a serious claustrophobic attack back there, and you fought it and you beat it. If he knows you suffer, the most that will happen is that he might expedite our rescues from time to time, but he needs to know that you have the condition and that you have learned how to control it yourself so that it doesn't control you."

I could see his point, but I shook my head.

"I… I can't…I can't talk about… Napoleon I can't."

"Illya, he needs to know. I'll tell him what happened here, that I saw you have an attack and I saw you beat it. No one else needs to know, but Mr. Waverly should be informed."

I'd rather not dwell any more on the day. Suffice it to say that Napoleon and I disagreed, and being that he is the Chief Enforcement Agent, he won. When we were finally released from our metallic tomb, we found that there was no package. The whole thing had been a hoax to lure us into the way of a bomb in the hope of finishing us off.

Napoleon insisted on informing Mr. Waverly about my claustrophobia. I made myself scarce, but before long one of the secretaries found me and informed me that Mr. Waverly wanted to see me in his office right away. Better to bite the bullet, so I went straight up there.

Sure enough I received a stern Waverly lecture against withholding important information, which was followed, surprisingly, by a very warm-hearted speech in praise of my courage in the face of almost insurmountable fear. I left his office with my ears ringing and my mind reeling. I felt the sooner I got this day behind me, the better off I would be. I asked my partner to let me have the rest of the day off so I could get my head back in gear. So here I am back at home.

Quite why I decided to do this, I don't know, but one of the UNCLE head shrinks once claimed that writing it all down can be quite therapeutic. It has at least made me realize that probably my biggest fear is fear itself. I have also been reminded that I can always depend on my partner. He does like to joke around a lot, but he is always there for me when I need him to be… and I did need him today. At least I know I can defeat my fears when I focus, especially if my partner is there to help me. Hopefully there won't be a next time. If there is…we'll be ready for it.