Fandom: The Man from U.N.C.L.E.
Pairing: Napoleon Solo/Illya Kuryakin
Category: Can be interpreted as slash or gen
Rating: G
Word Count: 365
Summary: Napoleon won’t leave Illya’s side.
Original Publication Date: 23 October 2008
Napoleon Solo rubbed his eyes as he sat down on the uncomfortable metal chair next to his partners hospital bed. Illya was still on a ventilator and a long way from being out of the woods. He was reaching out for Illyas hand just as he heard the footsteps approaching from behind. He didnt acknowledge the persons presence. He knew who it was and what he was going to say.
Dr. Crilley hated dealing with Section 2 agents. They had over-inflated egos and thought they were better than everyone else. He sighed inwardly before he spoke. Mr. Solo, I understand that you want to be here with your partner but hes heavily sedated and will be for hours yet. He doesnt even know youre here. Why dont you go home and get some rest?
It was a moment before Napoleon spoke and when he did it was so softly the doctor had to lean forward to hear it. Have you ever been shot, doctor?
No, of course not.
Tortured?
No.
Have you ever been in a coma?
No.
Have you ever been heavily sedated?
No.
Ive been all those things. So has Illya. I can tell you from personal experience that we do know. We always know. Solo turned in his seat to finally acknowledge the doctor, but without relinquishing his partners hand. Solemnly, he continued. Hes never left me. I will never leave him.
The doctor was shocked by the complete lack of bravado in the statement. Solo hadnt tried to browbeat him or even try his hand with his infamous charm to get his way in order to stay. He looked into the agents eyes and only saw the raw emotions of the truth. Love. Pain. Loss. Tenderness. Anger. Guilt. They were all there. Crilley cleared his throat and put his hand on Solos shoulder as he spoke. Why dont I get you a more comfortable chair? With that the doctor turned to leave the room, heading to his office to retrieve his own leather chair and taking a mental note to make sure they had more comfortable chairs in the hospital rooms for the long vigils he knew were yet to come.