Illya couldn't remember how long he had been held in the cage. The steel bars formed a cube measuring 3ft along each edge, leaving Illya barely any room to stretch out. The whole thing was anchored to into ground, meaning there were no locks for the agent to pick. To add to his discomfort the room was lit by bright lights, which were never turned off. It was also very warm, and he hadn't been given any water.
The whole idea was to get him to give over the details of Alexander Waverly's itinerary, but they had, thus far, been unsuccessful. Illya Kuryakin was well known for his resilience, so his captors weren't too concerned yet. This was merely the first of a raft of techniques they were intending to try.
At the sound of the door opening, Illya wearily raised his head, hoping to see his partner. He was disappointed to see it was only his captor's lackey. Whenever he saw her, Illya always got the impression she wasn't there by choice.
"Hey," he called, as best he could with his dry throat. "If you help me, I will take you with me."
She glanced towards him but turned away just as quickly. However, Illya had seen what he needed to. It had been fleeting, but an expression of hope had showed itself.
"What's your name?" he asked, trying to ignore the pain each syllable caused.
"Sally," she replied, without looking at him.
"I'm Illya," he told her. "And I really can help you. I just need to be out of this cage."
Sally turned to look directly at him for the first time. She was instantly drawn into deep and sad blue pools, and knew he meant what he said.
"I daren't," she told him. "They might kill me."
"Theyare killing me," he replied. "Please, help me."
Sally hesitated slightly, but the puppy-dog look on his face melted her heart. She couldn't bear the thought of more pain being reflected in those eyes. She turned the necessary dial and the cage was released from the floor. With Sally's help, Illya climbed to his feet.
"We need to get you some water," she said, as she allowed the freed man to prop himself up against her.
"There'll be time for that later," he gasped.
His muscles and joints screamed their protestations as he moved for the first time in a long time. It was hard going at first but, with Sally's help, Illya could feel movement returning. They had been going for ten minutes, when an ear-splitting siren began to wail.
"They must have realised you have escaped," Sally shouted above the siren. "Quickly! We're almost at the service tunnels."
Illya was energised by a sudden burst of adrenalin and the two of them ran towards the tunnel. They had almost reached the staircase when a shot rang out and Sally pitched forward. Illya realised, as her life's blood spread across her back, that she was unlikely to survive. Still, he picked her up and dragged her through the doorway to the staircase. Laying her down momentarily, he dropped the bar across the back of the doors and hoped it would hold his pursuers off for long enough.
Sally's breathing was very shallow when he returned to her, and he knew she would soon be gone.
"I'm sorry," he told her, with genuine remorse. "I promised to help you escape."
"You did help me," she replied, her voice barely a whisper. "Death is far more preferable to slavery."
"I will still take you out of here," he assured her, but she refused to go.
"You don't have . . . much strength, and . . . you are going to need it if . . . you are to get away. Carrying a . . . dead body will only . . . hinder you. Please . . . go."
Leaning forward, Illya kissed Sally softly, on the lips.
"Thank you," he whispered.
The slight smile which appeared on her face remained as her eyes fluttered closed and she finally found true freedom.
Illya had seen, and been party to, many deaths in his time, and there were several he regretted. With Sally, he felt sad that she had been sacrificed in the effort to save his own life, but there was something about her death which had seemed as though it had been what she wanted.
He made it home safely, and an operation was launched to raid the facility in which he had been held. Once everyone inside had been captured and the building secured, Illya ensured that Sally's body was retrieved. With Mr Waverly's permission, and blessing, she was given a proper funeral and was buried in a private cemetery owned by U.N.C.L.E.