Chapter 10: In The End We All Will Be Together by girlintheglen
Chapter Text
Headquarters was in lockdown status, guns were loaded with mercy bullets and anxiety was hidden behind a grim determination to not let the enemy succeed.
Napoleon and Illya were already on the road, heading north to the location specified in Zark's note. One loose end had been tied to the chain of events before they left Headquarters; a tech from the labs was found unconscious, his clothing tinged with the gas now identified as the means by which the missing were rendered unconscious. It appeared that the man, Lucas McGill, was recently hired after graduating with honors from…
"The University of the Ozarks. Isn't McGill the name of that young woman from the Bat Cave Affair?" Illya was visualizing the woman, Clemency McGill, causing a shiver to run down his spine as he was drawn back to the cave and the feel of bats swarming around his head.
Napoleon's brow creased in concentration, a sudden rush of memories coming back to him, of her and the combination of innocence and manipulation she wielded so effectively. Something about that affair had never seemed completely resolved.
"Do you think there's a connection?" The question was met with an elaborate roll of the Russian's blue eyes, an answer that Napoleon agreed with.
"Okay then, so if this McGill from Section VIII is related somehow to Clemency McGill, and Zark is responsible for abducting our friends and colleagues…' Napoleon let that hang in the air for a moment.
"Was she always part of the plan?" Both men were silent as each one relived the events and people, remembering words and phrases that might be a clue to what had truly gone into such a calculated intrusion.
"We thought Transom and Zark were manipulating Clemency, but is it possible that she was willingly a part of it? She was so …"
"Innocent?' Illya clucked his tongue at the idea now of the homespun act that Clemency had perfected for them. Although, Zark had maintained the girl's ignorance of his scheme.
"Perhaps she was innocent, at the time. But how do we explain this coincidence of our perpetrator having the same last name as hers?" That last observation made both men pause again in their conversation.
Napoleon had liked Clemency enough to lead her on in hopes of gaining as much information from her as was possible. Illya was missing and she seemed reluctant to divulge her messages concerning him.
"She was jealous of you, you know." He remembered her little tantrum when Napoleon had inquired about his friend, her annoyance at not being the sole recipient of his attention.
Illya was not surprised at the revelation, he had not been entirely convinced of her act. He had been entirely annoyed at the way she mispronounced his name, almost as though on purpose.
"I think our Miss McGill might have been affected by all of those signals her brain had to process. I wonder that it didn't cause some sort of permanent damage." Napoleon hadn't considered that, he consigned himself at times to ignorance on subjects in which his partner excelled. It was unnecessary to duplicate the interest or the science of it on his part.
"Do you really think so? Is it possible that Zark somehow continued to influence her? That would be … tragic." A sudden surge of sympathy forced its way into Napoleon's attitude towards Clemency. The girl had been duped in so many way, in spite of her willingness to try and persuade him to court her, as she put it.
The miles rolled past as the two men considered this new theory. If Clemency had been able to convince her cousin to engage in sabotaging Headquarters then her powers of manipulation were considerably increased. New members to the Command were thoroughly vetted, their backgrounds checked and re-checked. Someone had missed the relationship, and therefore the possibility of a problem.
And there was a problem, although the events looming ahead were of greater concern now.
The old hotel rose above the other buildings in the forgotten town of Hyde Sink, ancient looking spires creating a look of doom that seemed realized in abandoned storefronts and shuttered windows. Napoleon and Illya drove into this dreary environment and parked in front of the building where they hoped to find the missing; there seemed to be no advantage to a stealthy approach.
"Zark most probably has sensors installed, or cameras. I had no success sneaking into his lair during the last encounter with this madman." Illya had endured no only the bat cave itself, but a round of treatments afterwards for the bites he had received *. The memory of it still sometimes manifested in a recurring nightmare, one he had not yet shared with the resident shrink. The thought of it now made his skin crawl.
Napoleon sat very still, his mind calculating and reassessing the situation at hand. He and Illya needed to get into this place and find every person Zark had stolen away from Headquarters. He was expecting the worst, and hoping for a Christmas miracle as well. Living constantly with that type of a dichotomy of thought made him an excellent strategist, always considering every option. As he thought through the various scenarios, what he was about to encounter was not among them.
The men checked their individual arsenals, set the homing device on the dash of the car and opened their doors, ready to enter into this bizarre situation. Zark's choice of venue was a fitting one for his performance, the pseudo vampirish character he chose to inhabit. There was no end to the insanity of THRUSH's stable of power hungry villains it seemed.
The hotel door opened to them as they approached, a loud creaking sound adding to the drama. Once inside they found the lobby well lit and festooned with Christmas garlands and a tree that glowed with scores of colored lights, a completely incongruous sight to the agents' expectations of gloom and … well, Zark.
There was a hallway just past the reception desk, well lit and also festooned with typical Christmas decor. It was puzzling, this apparent attempt to create something akin to holiday celebrations. Neither man could fathom why someone like Zark would go to the trouble while holding UNCLE employees for ransom, or whatever it was his scheme sought to achieve. The note had contained an ominous threat concerning the lives of those he now held, although it did not specify what, exactly, he wanted from this situation.
As Solo and Kuryakin walked each man was thinking through the details of the note, of this hotel and the absurdity of being greeted with all the trappings of Christmas.
Inside the banquet hall each person who had been brought to the hotel sat at a well appointed table, with glistening crystal and fine china at each place. The table was laden with a sumptuous feast, all of it delivered by a series of peculiar looking people dressed in red satin, presumably for the holiday table that looked suspiciously like Christmas dinner.
Zark was seated at the head of the table, his smile resembling a cartoon character, although no one could discern the expected devilment, as Alexander Waverly had put it. Why they were each sitting at this table was still a mystery, but no one doubted that Napoleon and Illya were on their way here and that the situation would soon be sorted out.
Zark looked at the table and was satisfied that his party would soon begin in earnest. His first order of business would be to welcome his guests.
"Good evening,' the line was delivered without apology for the obvious. Mark almost laughed out loud as he remembered that line from the classic Dracula film with Bela Lugosi.
"I know you are all wondering why you are here, and as soon as our special guests arrive it will be my pleasure to inform you." The smile never left his face, and the terror of it elicited a cry from Terry Clark. She had endured too much in the company of UNCLE agents, and now this. In the midst of her agony, however, she did silently wish for her camera to be returned to her, because this was a story if ever there was one.
"Please Miss Clark, you are in no danger from me. And because of your profound talents as a photographer, I consider you a very special guest tonight." That comment both stunned and comforted her; she was going to get her camera back after all.
April was more curious than scared, and as she looked around the table she noticed not two, but three empty chairs. Who else was coming besides Napoleon and Illya? She nudged Mark, who was seated beside her, and whispered in his ear. That did not go unnoticed by Zark, whose smile still remained plastered onto his face.
"Miss Dancer, you have no need to whisper. Do you have a question for me? I am your host, you have nothing to fear." April doubted that was true, but decided to ask him about the empty chair.
"I know that Mr. Solo and Mr. Kuryakin are on their way, you wouldn't have kidnapped all of us without it being about them. But there is a third chair still empty. Who is it for?" Zark's smile took on a slightly wistful aspect, as though he had a thought tempering his facial expression.
"Ah, that is something of a surprise."
Waverly huffed at that response. He was thoroughly outdone with this entire affair, and missing Christmas Eve dinner with his family was not a thing to pass over lightly.
"You, Mr. Zark…"
"Count Zark, but please, continue." Waverly huffed again.
"Count Zark, this has gone on quite long enough. We all have things to get to this evening and since you seem to have no ill tidings for us, you will please explain the nature of this abduction." The Old Man was getting hot with ire and ready to take action if the answer didn't suit him. His wife would have his hide for missing Christmas Eve.
Everyone at the table held a collective breath. What if Zark did have ill tidings, as Waverly had put it? What if…
The doors to the banquet room opened, framing the men everyone was waiting to see arrive and settle this conundrum. Napoleon and Illya looked into the room and then at each other. The aromas were intoxicating to the Russian, and the sight of those seated a relief to Napoleon. He saw Terry Clark and wondered why she should be here, but settled on Zark at the head of the table.
"Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin, please come in. Your seats are waiting for you and dinner is ready to be served." Illya was willing to eat first and ask questions later, but Napoleon was too curious and annoyed to wait any longer for explanations.
"Zark…" Waverly winced slightly, knowing what would come next.
"Count Zark, if you don't mind Mr. Solo." The smile remained.
"Count Zark, why are we here? And since when do you celebrate Christmas?" The room was suddenly full of music as Pachelbel's Canon began to play. The mood changed instantly as the soothing strains of the music triggered a change in the lighting; The house lights went down as the ceiling was covered in tiny white lights that created a canopy over the reluctant diners. The double doors at the far end of the room opened to reveal a woman dressed in a diaphenous white dress, a crown of red roses atop her head.
"Clemency?" Napoleon's voice was a whisper, his eye unbelieving at the sight of her. Illya was likewise stupefied at this new development, although his opinion of her was now justified somehow as he watched her head towards Zark, an identical smile on her face.
The entire room watched the entrance of the woman in white, a new wave of confusion filling each of their minds as they considered a variety of reasons for this scene. Zark looked euphoric, his hand outstretched to Clemency as he guided her to the chair on his right side.
"Please welcome my beautiful Clemency, the future Countess."
For a few seconds it was though time stood still, not a word or whisper; a pin would have sounded like an explosion in this room. But then everyone was talking, asking questions and demanding answers. Zark looked puzzled by the outburst, but Clemency was reserved and serene looking. Illya thought she might be drugged, but Napoleon knew better; Clemency and Zark were in love.
"Is this a wedding we are attending?" Zark and Clemency looked into each other's eyes, adoring and sweet.
"Yes, finally we have the secret out of the proverbial bag, Mr. Solo. Well done. I have forgiven all of you and brought you here to witness my ultimate joy and happiness." This brought another round of questions. In the midst of it Angelique stood and raised her glass.
"Count Zark, I never thought I'd see the day darling, but I salute you. Cheers!" No one joined her, but Angelique didn't care. These were UNCLE agents and Zark was one of her own.
"My dear Angelique, I especially wanted you here to join me in my happiness. I could not imagine anyone more suitable as Mr. Solo's date for the occasion. As for Mr. Kuryakin, I fear I could not think of anyone capable of pleasing you dear boy. You must look for love, and soon." Illya colored slightly, but it was difficult to tell if it was embarrassment or anger.
Waverly was on his feet now, impatient to get on with things.
"All right then, you have us here, so what comes next? Why are we here and when are we going to be free to leave?"
Zark realized now that his guests were not going to simply accept his gesture of reconciliation without specifics of his plan. Very well…
"Mr. Waverly, you are here to give away the bride. Her own father is gone and you are the most respectable man I can think of. As I mentioned, Miss le Chien is here as my special guest and to accompany Mr. Solo. His aunt Amy is for the benefit of my Clemency, a wise and mature woman to counsel her before she says her vows."
Amy smiled to herself and allowed a tinge of excitement at the thought of being brought into one of Napoleon's escapades. She could endure Angelique, in spite of some obvious misgivings about the woman.
Zark paused, thoughtful as he prepared to continue.
"Miss Dancer, you are a bridesmaid, as is Miss Rogers. You do not know Clemency, but I could think of no one to better represent her, your reputations are your qualifications. And Mr. Slate, I need a groomsman." Mark and April exchanged amused looks, the earlier sense of danger was not completely dissolved as they listened to the love struck count.
"Miss Clark, you are an excellent photographer, perhaps our most valuable guest this evening. I apologize for the methods by which we have secured your services, but I needed the best." Terry was dumbfounded by the compliment even as she formulated a response to this outrageous behavior. She had been so scared as she waited in the room upstairs, all alone and thinking the worst. When she heard the voice from the hallway her instincts roiled into one long shriek, only to discover Mark Slate was speaking to her. Her nerves were frayed and she wished fervently for a shot of whiskey.
"Mr. Del Floria, you sir are not only a former UNCLE agent, you have the skills of one who can tailor and do alterations. Clemency's dress is a work of art, but your expertise is a safeguard, should anything need altering.
George Dennell was sitting next to Angelique, still wondering why he was present. The answer was forthcoming.
"Mr. Dennell, you are a kind and enthusiastic young man, and will also be a groomsman. Your sense of honor is a valued characteristic, and I hope to be influenced by it. Somehow…' Zark paused as he reflected upon this turn of events and the people he was enlisting on behalf of Clemency and himself. If THRUSH were to discover him now it would be the end of him. Clemency had changed everything, a sort of miracle, if one believed in such things.
"Somehow, in spite of the life I have lived previously, and the lust for power that drove me, I find myself here among those who were previously my enemies, hoping that there is enough forgiveness and mercy on this of all days, to allow this transformation to be completed."
Napoleon was dumbfounded, unsure whether to believe any of this was actually happening. Illya was likewise dubious, but both men observed in their former nemesis a sincerity that they didn't believe was false. For her part, Clemency was beaming, just like a bride was expected to beam. Her hair was longer now, flowing from beneath the rose garland she wore. Of course they wondered if there was another circuited gadget among the flowers, but something made them accept what they were witnessing as true.
"Clemency, how did this happen?" Napoleon felt the need to address the woman at Zark's side, to hear her affirm this bizarre romance. She smiled and turned to look adoringly at Zark, then replied to the man she had once thought of as someone she might love.
"Mr. Solo, I can't even imagine what y'all must think of me, but truly this is the man I love. After I went back home, it was just so … well, truth be told, I was awfully bored. That little town and the people in it just couldn't compare to what I'd seen in the big city. So, I got on a bus and headed to Atlanta, hoping to find a job and live a life that had more to it than jam and biscuits, and local folk talkin' about the weather. Seems your city ideas rubbed off a little.'' Clemency looked around the room and then turned her attention again to Zark. He seemed to be hanging on every word she spoke. She reached towards him and brushed his cheek with the back of her hand before continuing.
"Well, wouldn't you know that after findin' that job I wanted and a nice little apartment, who should I run into but my darlin' Lad. He came into the store where I was working as a clerk, and of course we both recognized each other. But he wasn't dressed, you know, like that other count feller. Instead, well he was handsome, and sweet. I thought maybe he was a lookalike, but no indeed; well, he was the man I remembered, only different."
Now it was Zark who reached out to touch Clemency, taking her hand and squeezing it affectionately. By this time Napoleon and Illya had taken their seats, surrendering to whatever it was they were witnessing.
"Well, I tell you what, it didn't take long to see this man had changed his ways, and before long … ' More loving looks were exchanged until the entire room was beginning to tire of the sweetness.
"Y'all gotta forgive us, we're just so in love we can't help ourselves from showin' it. We don't have us a lot of friends, not yet. And UNCLE was so kind to me, and Lad has turned away from those awful people he used to work for. We wanted people who would wish us well and, I'm all kinds of sorry about the way we went about it. Truly I am, but now that y'all are here, can you forgive us?"
The guests were all silent for what seemed like a long time, but finally Mr. Waverly stood to address them all.
"Count Zark, I believe that every person has the potential to change. From what I have heard and witnessed here, and in spite of the unorthodox method by which you gathered us here, I think I can speak for all of my people when I say, congratulations on your marriage and, yes, we forgive you."
The entire assembly raised their glasses at that and saluted the happy couple. Clemency was near tears and Zark, dressed only in a tuxedo and no longer in the garb of his former character, rose up out of his chair and approached Waverly, taking his hand to shake it and whispering something in his ear that made the old man smile.
"Shall we eat? Please, everyone, partake of my table and afterwards we shall have a wedding."
And so they did, passing plates and serving themselves from the abundance before them. Illya filled his plate twice, convinced that no one with evil intentions would feed his victims so well. He decided to forgive Zark and let bygones be bygones.
Napoleon marveled at the couple, the transformation of Zark and the sheer bliss he saw on Clemency's face. So this was what love looked like…
After dinner the group assembled themselves in the hotel lobby where the Christmas decorations and lights created something like an enchanted forest. Waverly would give the bride away and perform the wedding, something he was able to do within his position in UNCLE. If he should ever write a memoir, this was definitely going in it.
The night turned into dawn, and Christmas day was fully upon them. After Zark and Clemency said their vows and thanked everyone for their participation, cars arrived to take them each to whatever destination was needed. Napoleon decided to ride with Amy and Angelique, both women having tempered their initial dislike of each other after several glasses of wine and the general mood of forgiveness and love.
Illya still had the car and so asked April if she might prefer to ride with him, which she accepted readily. Mark had struck up a conversation with the other British guest, Terry Clark. They got on so well that Mark rode in Terry's car, enjoying the backseat of the limousine and eventually the entire day.
Mr. Waverly invited Lisa to go with him to his family's Christmas celebrations. Her plans for the day had been to dine alone, so she was grateful for the change.
George and Del rode back together, each of them parting ways in the city and heading to their respective family gatherings.
As for the happy couple, they were going back to Zark's home in the little country of his birth, Ladislovia. You see, Count Zark was truly a count and held lands and title in the principality. Clemency was now the Countess Clemency, and would live in the fully renovated and modernized castle of her dreams.
It would be, for all involved, the most unusual Christmas they would ever experience, and perhaps the most rewarding. Someone who had once dealt in the darkness of THRUSH's empire was now a redeemed and reformed man who would serve his own people, for their benefit and not only his own.
The night had turned into a day bright with promise, so that each one was able to say confidently to the others, have yourself a merry little Christmas…
And so they did.
Merry Christmas!