Chapter 9
Of course taking Gale Davenport along was risky to say the least but they needed to find the devise and help Illya while he was still with them. As it was April was now carrying him on her hip and the whiff in the air around them spoke of an unscheduled bathroom break.
Slate stalled her with a hand to her arm and he whispered something in her ear.
"No I didn't think to bring diapers. Just because I'm a woman you naturally assume..."
"Can we have this argument later, Illya will just have to go with it for now, besides he has smelt worse haven't you." Napoleon smiled as he ruffled the child's hair. The child responded by smearing something sticky on his shirt.
Gale Davenport immediately spoke up. "There is an executive washroom, it's exclusively for top brass but we could bring him up there and give him a bit of a freshen up. It has small linen towels we could use as a diaper."
With a smooth smile she looked to April.
"We could go. I'll help you."
Napoleon immediately stepped in.
"You're not taking him anywhere, just remember who is holding the gun and do as you're told."
She just shot him a look but it was abject amusement that danced in her dark doll like eyes.
They managed to exit the prison wing without incident in fact the place seemed eerily deserted.
After climbing an antique wooden staircase and coming out through a large door they found themselves standing in a long corridor with a high arched ceiling and many paneled doors lining each side. Napoleon looked down the length of this dark hall, it looked to be an older part of the building judging by the chipped paint work and old fixtures.
"This is wrong." Slate whispered. His voice carried in the air.
April tried to placate Illya as he began to whimper.
Napoleon looked to Davenport and again wondered why he was trusting her.
"It's down here, follow me," She said without making eye contact.
The others went to follow but Napoleon raised a hand to stall them.
After a moment she turned to face them.
"You could see how it was, I was held captive. You could clearly see how I was treated. I care about the science. I care about discovering new truths. Thrush funded the work that has been my father's obsession ever since I can remember. That was our only allegiance with this group. I bitterly regret having stabbed you. I honestly did it thinking you were going to attack me.
Just as he was about to answer the door behind Napoleon began to splinter and tiny chips of wood flew off as gun shots rang out. They all frantically ducked down as a detail of Thrush agents came into view at the end of the corridor. Gunshots erupted all around them and Napoleon began shooting back. A muffled whimper behind him made Napoleon look back and his eyes widened as he saw Gale Davenport wrestle Illya away from April. He got up to intervene just as a bullet exploded across his left arm. He clenched his teeth and gripped the wound as blood began pouring through his fingers. Slate looked over.
"I'm alright, keep shooting. Cover me." Napoleon scrambled back up and staggered after Gale as she took off with Illya in her arms. He kept to the sides going from doorway to doorway but April and Mark seemed to be doing an excellent job of keeping the shooters at bay.
He saw the door close gently and he staggered towards it. He had one bullet in his gun, just one. At this point he would have no compunction about taking her down. Slowly he opened the door and walked in. Immediately he saw Illya. He was just left on a table. Lying flat, he was struggling to turn himself over or get back up. The two year old was becoming more distressed and as flat as he was he was practically choking on his own tears. Napoleon immediately went to him but didn't get that far. She put a hand to his color as he felt the barrel of a gun at his temple. Napoleon had no choice but to drop his weapon.
"I didn't mean to stab you." She whispered "but it was the only way I could get close to him."
Napoleon didn't speak. He continued to watch Illya's distress wanting nothing more than to pick him up.
She moved closer to him and ran a perfectly painted nail down his rough cheek.
"He's all I've ever wanted Napoleon. That time they captured him I watched through the monitor as he was being tortured. He was so composed, so brave through it all. I fell in love with him then. That was ten years ago. He was so young then but I never forgot that defiant face. They beat him savagely and yet he gave them nothing. "
"You're a sick woman Miss Davenport."
"Why, because I fell in love. Have you never been in love Mr. Solo?"
"I never fell in love with someone as they were being tortured."
"You weren't there, you didn't see."
Napoleon didn't answer. It occurred to him that he was wasting time reasoning with a mad woman. He walked ahead of her and picked up the child. Illya's wet face nestled into his shoulder and the child began to calm a little.
"Put him down, I didn't say you could pick him up. He's mine."
Napoleon did put him down. Not because she told him to but because blood was running freely down his arm from the gunshot wound and he was starting to get weak. He turned the child on his side and stroked his blond hair.
"What….do you intend to do with us." He asked through labored breaths.
"I don't know. I just took him and ran I had no plan. I am not a devious woman Mr Solo but when I love it is with all my heart."
Napoleon ignored the nonsense and tried to talk sense to her. He was losing too much blood.
"Illya will not survive." he told her. "He needs intervention. Can you reverse the process?"
"I don't..."
They both fell to the ground, their ears ringing still from the massive explosion. Napoleon got back up and immediately pulled Illya from the table just as panels came down from the ceiling. He staggered towards the door cradling the child in his arms but he went down heavily as she grabbed hold of his leg.
"You can't take him. Please Napoleon," She wailed keeping hold of his leg.
Napoleon looked back into her deranged eyes.
"Let go." he told her.
"Napoleon please, I'll die here, take me with you."
He reached over and smacked her in the face. It wasn't a severe smack but it stunned her enough that she let go.
He scrambled up and staggered towards the door. Outside the place was filling with smoke. He shielded Illya's face as he stumbled along. All around him people ran in every direction trying to escape the smoke and the heat.
As a waft of smoke suddenly cleared Manfred Crowe stood staring back at him. He had been heading towards the exit but the sight of the agent brought a small smile to his face.
"Mr Kuryakin's transformation is unprecedented. You must at least admire our handy work Mr Solo." he smiled.
Never taking his eyes off Crowe Napoleon backed up and using his clothes he dropped Illya gently to the floor.
"You're a mess Mr Solo, I have no wish to fight you. Leave Kuryakin and just walk away. You owe him nothing."
Napoleon gave a slight nod and breathed a sigh of resignation. Crowe wasn't ready for it when the agent suddenly barreled into him and knocked him off his feet. Crowe recovered quickly and as they got back up he landed Solo a blow to the stomach and followed with a smack to the jaw that sent him flying backwards. Napoleon's strength was all but gone but he stumbled back to his feet. Crowe took hold of the collar of his jacket and held Solo against the wall as he smacked him continuously across the face. He laughed lightly as Napoleon shook his head as he was starting to become dazed from the onslaught.
A fresh waft of smoke filled the confined space and they both looked down as Illya took a fit of coughing.
In that split second Napoleon took the advantage. He came out fighting smacking Manfred Crowe with all the strength he had left. One blow followed another and another and finally Crowes legs went from under him and he crumpled to the ground in a dazed bloody heap.
Napoleon staggered back towards the wall. Illya looked up at him with a trace of fear in his eyes. Napoleon found that he couldn't bend to pick the child up. He was in too much pain. He reached down and hauled Illya up by his clothes.
"I'm sorry." he said as Illya began to whimper. "I know my friend I'm sorry."
He stood for a moment with the child in his arms rubbing his back as the child continued to cry softly.
Napoleon could go no further. He was trying to find an exit but the smoke was too dense his lungs were filling with toxic fumes and his right arm was caked in a river of blood from the gunshot wound. He made it to the end of the corridor and slid down the wall. As his eyes began to close he pulled his jacket up over Illya to shield the child from the heat.
~o~
When Slate finally came to, he pulled April to her feet. The explosion had knocked them both to the ground. They had been fighting a losing battle with Thrush when help had finally arrived. A mass of shooting behind them scattered the Thrush agents. Slate and Dancer rushed forward to help in the roundup of Thrush agents when the explosion knocked everyone off their feet.
"They're exploding the device so that we won't get access to it, come on." Slate took hold of her hand and began to run through the smoke.
He made it to the end of the corridor and froze in his tracks. April stopped too and looked down at the smut covered form of Napoleon Solo. Slate crouched and put a hand to his neck.
After a moment he let out a breath.
"He's alive." he told her. "But probably not for long if we don't get him out of this furnace."
Slate moved back startled as something began to move under Solo's jacket.
With a tentative hand Slate pulled back his coat.
They both laughed in relief as a little face peered up at them with a familiar look of disapproval.
"Let's get you out of there Mr Kuryakin." Slate smiled as he lifted the child.
Napoleon came awake in a haze of confusion and held on to the child with all strength until another Uncle agent came to help and the two were gently separated. Illya was unhurt and held hands out when he saw April. Napoleon on the other hand was put to the ground and turned on his side as he faded out again. Someone found oxygen and put a mask over his face.
~o~
The first realization was the silence. It felt as though he had woken from a bad dream. Napoleon looked above him, this wasn't a hospital unless it was a very old one. The only window had very large shutters on each side and the high ceiling was adorned with elaborate, unnecessary decorative swirls the like you'd see in old estate houses. He looked down and realized he was lying on a bed dressed in a smut covered suit. He had a dressing on his forehead and his right arm was dressed n a clean white sling. A door to his left suddenly opened, the sound made him jump.
"Only me. Try to relax Mr Solo. You've got quite a bump on your head."
Napoleon was relieved. He recognized her as the young agent working with Mr Slate.
"What happened." his voice came out sounding hoarse from all the smoke. April immediately poured him a glass of water.
"Here, drink this. Don't take too much."
Napoleon took a small sip.
April began to tell him everything.
"The powers that be in Thrush central ordered that the rejuvenation equipment be disposed of once they learned that the base was under attack. Thankfully the explosives went off prematurely and the main machine was spared. Our technical team are trying to work with the lab technicians hired by Thrush to reactivate the device.
"Where's Illya."
"He's there. They are putting him through the process once more and trying to reverse the cycle"
Napoleon looked up at her.
"I'm not a scientist, I don't know what they're doing. All I know is that they are trying to help Illya and it's not working..."
April turned from him and walked quickly towards the door.
~o~
Mr Waverly looked up as Napoleon approached. He could not help but frown at the young man's appearance.
"Mr Solo, you really should be in bed. You are in no fit state to be up and about. I have made the call to have you transported to our clinic."
"How is he sir." Napoleon looked through the small window encased within the large machine. He could see a small form lying very still.
"He's not doing well Mr Solo" Mr Waverly muttered sounding very tired. "The lab technicians have stalled the process in the hope that he can gain some strength."
"Can they be trusted sir?"
Mr Waverly answered with a slight nod.
"They have been extremely helpful once they learned that they no longer have to answer to Thrush. Turns out the majority of lab personnel here were taken on under duress. Threats to their family, blackmail, that sort of thing. They have been extremely helpful in Mr Kuryakin's care. But it looks to be a hopeless cause. They can't seem to get him past the age of ten. I've been watching the pain staking process I can't think what else can be done for the chap. Any further intervention renders him weaker."
"Sir, why don't you get some rest. I'll keep an eye on things here and let you know if there is any change."
Mr Waverly was silent for a moment.
"Yes Mr Solo, perhaps a cup of coffee. It's about that time."
Mr Waverly got stiffly to his feet.
He graced Napoleon with an awkward pat to the shoulder.
"Sit down there, you really should be in bed you know,"
Napoleon sat heavily as he was taken by a sudden dizzy spell. Mr Waverly looked back at him.
"Don't stay there too long Mr Solo, you are under medical supervision too. You have a nasty infection in that stab wound she gave you."
"Did they find her sir?"
"Yes they were all rounded up. We had to confine her to an isolated cell. She's as mad as a brush poor girl."
Mr Waverly's words petered out, Napoleon was no longer listening. He was sitting forward with his hand on the little glass panel just willing his friend to get better. Mr Waverly turned and walked away leaving the two friends alone.
Through the smoky glass panel he could see clearly the small angelic face of his friend but Illya looked very pale and still.
"You have to try Illya, I'm always saying it. You expect everyone else to...I can't fix this..." Napoleon swiped quickly at the trail of moisture running down his cheek.
"Please Illya, try."
A lab technician stopped what she was doing for a moment and watched. She wanted to go to him. Instead she placed a call.
"It can't end like this after all we've been through." Napoleon muttered. He fixed his eyes on the glass panel willing himself to stay awake, willing himself to stay upright. It seemed funny to him that he felt chills up his back as perspiration soaked through his clothes.
The room seemed to suddenly fill with people all talking at once. He could feel hands pick him from the floor and place him... somewhere. He watched as lights moved above his head or was he moving. Lights, wires, something was placed over his face, would they ever just let him alone. Where's Illya. His free hand was gently restrained as he struggled against them. In the dim light he watched as a man in a white coat bent over him. He could feel the slight sting in his arm before the world began to slowly fade out.
~o~
He was chasing through a storm of hot acid rain. The rain lit fires all around him, scorched his clothes. It was so hot.
They had Illya, he must follow. He would never see him again if he did not follow. The rain was so hot, it brought with it pain. He must follow. They have Illya. Hands were restraining now, something put to his lips, a voice in the darkness. He must find Illya.
Everything was suddenly quiet. He looked up with unfocused eyes, in the dim light he could just make out a white curtain, a bag of saline hanging from a stand and someone sitting close by. He was bent over resting his tousled blond head in his hand.
"Illya!" he whispered.
The Russian agent immediately came awake.
"Napoleon,"
Illya jumped up and went to call a nurse in but Napoleon stalled him with a hand to his wrist.
"Please Illya, don't go."
"Napoleon, I must get the nurse I must call someone."
"Illya...you're grown again," he said. His voice sounded thick to his own ears.
Illya poured a glass of fresh water and put it to his lips.
"Don't talk my friend, drink."
Napoleon took a sip and tried again.
"You're a man again, the process worked."
"Take it easy Napoleon, That was quite a stab wound you took."
"Illya, you don't remember. You were a child. They had transformed you back into a child. We were in Thrush's facility in Ireland."
"In Ireland?" Illya looked at him with a slight spark of amusement in his eyes.
"Illya, the one where they torture people. They carry out experiments."
"Ok you win. We won't go hill walking in Ireland this summer, we'll go to Italy again." Illya said with a grin
Napoleon nodded. Reality was starting to seep into his psyche once more and it felt good.
"Napoleon the Maharaja got safely back to his own country. Despite Thrush's best efforts."
"The Maharaja." Napoleon repeated to himself.
"You remember Napoleon, we were protecting him as he boarded for his flight home."
Napoleon nodded, it was coming back to him now.
"I was on the runway just at the steps. I was stabbed...twice."
"Actually three times. She went on a bit of a mad frenzy. It took three of us to subdue her."
Napoleon nodded. "Yes, Gale Davenport."
"How did you get her name Napoleon. Do you know her?"
"No Illya. She told me. She wanted me to know who it was that ended my life."
"But I don't understand, why you. She must have quite a grudge. She went at you like a savage,"
Napoleon remembered again her haunted expression, her words.
"I'm sorry, it's the only way I could get close to him."
He looked over at his friend, Illya looked so tired.
"When I get out of here Illya I'm going to treat you to a cold beer and a fine steak dinner."
Illya smiled. "At this point I'd settle for a milkshake and a hot dog my friend."
The End
