Fandom: The Man from U.N.C.L.E.

Pairing: Napoleon Solo/Illya Kuryakin

Category: slash

Rating: R

Word Count: 4,423

Summary: Illya overhears a conversation of Napoleon’s and comes to the wrong conclusion. Napoleon knows he needs to set things right before it’s too late.

Notes: Initially this was a single drabble, then there was a follow up drabble and then became a full-fledged story. In my head, the character of Dr. Stephen Woolton is played by Cary Elwes.

Original Publication Dates: 16 August 2009, 17 August 2009, 24 August 2009, 28 August 2009 and 6 September 2009

 

Thanks to periwinkle27 for her beta work and cheerleading.

 

 

 

Alone.

The single word reverberated through his mind.

The situation was ridiculous. His own fantasies were what held him trapped in this solitary hell.

He needed to snap out of it.

No handsome prince was going to ride in and rescue him from his own isolation.

No matter how many times his fertile imagination conjured the vision.

He couldn’t bring himself to reach out.

No one was reaching in.

Alone.

A sound snapped him from his reverie.

Night had again fallen without him noticing.

The footsteps he’d heard continued on their way down the corridor.

Forever alone in the darkness.

 

***

Napoleon made his way towards the figure huddled in the corner.

The streetlight provided the only illumination in the room, but it was enough for Napoleon to see Illya was staring straight ahead.

Eyes unseeing.

Unresponsive to Napoleon’s presence.

Carefully Napoleon lowered himself to the floor pulling Illya close to him.

Cradling Illya in his arms.

Holding him tight.

I’ve lost him.

He’s alone. Retreating to the dark places of the inside and I don’t know how to reach him.

Eyes burning, Napoleon looked upward cursing his own willful blindness.

Illya was paying the price for Napoleon’s own magnificent folly.

 

***

 

Napoleon lost all sense of time as he sat in Illya’s apartment holding his friend. He had maneuvered Illya’s lax form onto his lap, putting his friend’s head onto his shoulder. His cheek rested on Illya’s golden mop while his left hand, seemingly of its own volition, was rubbing Illya’s back. Illya’s hands lay in his own lap with Napoleon’s right hand resting on top of them.

It was still dark out when Napoleon noticed Illya’s breathing change slightly. Napoleon stayed still as he felt Illya blink several times, knowing his friend was orienting himself and giving him the time to do so.

“Napoleon,” Illya whispered.

“Hmm?”

“How long have you been here?”

“I honestly don’t know. When you didn’t come back to Medical to pick me up, I went to the office to find you but you’d gone. Then I headed over here.”

“Oh,” was the only reply forthcoming from the still figure curled on Napoleon’s lap.

“Can you tell me why you left?” Napoleon could feel his friend begin to tense up. Giving Illya a tight squeeze, Napoleon then brushed back Illya’s hair causing his friend to finally look up at him. “Illya, were you in the observation room?”

Illya nodded, not taking his eyes away from Napoleon’s.

“The whole time?”

“No.” Illya looked away, putting his head back on the comfort of Napoleon’s shoulder. “Woolton brought me in about an hour after the test started.”

“That bastard,” Napoleon growled. He paused a moment to regain his composure before asking, “What did you hear?”

Quietly Illya said, “Enough. I heard enough.”

“Ah.” Illya’s head snapped up at Napoleon’s reply, trying to extricate himself but Napoleon pulled him close. “You’re wrong,” Napoleon whispered in his ear. “You’re so very wrong, my friend.” Napoleon’s voice was equal parts pain and pleading. “Please give me a chance to explain.”

Not trusting his own voice, Illya simply nodded. Closing his eyes, he settled in to hear what Napoleon had to say.

“Woolton was so sure of that damned truth drug of his that I was determined to do anything I could not to break. I hate those damn things on the best of days but when you have to put up with an asshole like Woolton running the tests it’s almost as bad as being interrogated by Thrush.”

“Which is the point of the testing process, Napoleon,” Illya couldn’t help reminding him.

“Yeah, well, anyway, the questions started off innocuously enough. You know the drill.” Illya nodded. “About 45 minutes in, he gave me a second injection since I wasn’t giving him the response he wanted.”

Illya gasped, pulling back enough to look Napoleon in the face. “He gave you twice the dosage of an experimental drug? That’s against procedure.”

“Yeah, I know that, but I was strapped down. There’s wasn’t anything I could do to stop him.”

“What about his assistant? Where was he during all this?”

“I guess that’s when he had him send for you.”

“Even with Arnold out of the room, the security cameras would have observed him.”

“You’re jumping ahead, tovarich. Now where was I? Oh yeah, he gave me the second shot and I gave him a solemn promise of what I was going to do to him when I got out of that damn chair.”

Despite his efforts to the contrary, Illya felt himself smile.

“It didn’t take long for the second dose to hit. I felt like I was running a fever. It hurt to breathe. I thought I was going to lose my lunch – preferably all over that smug prick. The rolling nausea passed quickly enough but I was so hot I thought I was going to spontaneously combust. It was then that Woolton started on a new line of questions. Personal questions. Vindictive son-of-a-bitch was asking about what positions I prefer on which members of the secretarial pool, which women at HQ were the easiest to get into bed, which of the men were easy to get into bed; that kind of crap. Then he started in with questions about you.”

At that, Illya averted his gaze away from his friend’s face.

“I was so angry by this point. My head was pounding. I was sweating bullets, and the heat was almost unbearable. I was so close to the edge, Illya. Then he leaned down, got right in my face and sneered at me and asked if you screamed in bed for me like you’d screamed when he’d taken you.” Napoleon looked up, trying to will his angry tears away to stop them from falling.

Illya brought his hands up to Napoleon’s face, turning him so they were looking into one another’s eyes. “Napoleon, you must believe me when I tell you that I have never had sex with Stephen Woolton.”

Leaning forward to rest his forehead on Illya’s, Napoleon replied, “I know. I knew that. At least at the time I was pretty sure he was lying but the rage and the pain I was feeling made me lose it. I’m afraid that’s when you probably came in.”

 

***

 

Suddenly the memories came flooding back, overwhelming Napoleon. In his mind he could see himself in Woolton’s lab.

“Now Napoleon, why don’t you just sit back and try to relax. You know you can’t get free from those straps. You helped to test the design, remember?” Woolton gave Napoleon a condescending look before moving out of his line of sight.

Napoleon could hear Woolton behind him – moving test tubes, flipping through a chart. Where had his assistant gone? It’s standard procedure for two people to be in attendance at all times. Napoleon knew that Woolton was up to something and could only bide his time until Woolton’s nebbish assistant, Arnold Tully, returned.

“Woolton end this now. Your damn truth serum doesn’t work. This is just a waste of time.”

“Oh, Napoleon, I never said it was merely a truth serum, did I?” Pleased with the incredulous look on his subject’s face, Woolton continued. “Section 1 wanted me to pursue a more sophisticated treatment for extracting information.”

 

***

 

Illya’s concerned tone broke through Napoleon’s memories.

“I’m sorry, Illya. What did you say?”

“You left me there for a moment. Are you okay?”

Napoleon aggressively rubbed his face before answering. “No, I’m not okay. I’m not okay with any of this. With hurting you, however inadvertently. With my behavior the past couple of days. I’m not okay with Section 1 authorizing Woolton to use U.N.C.L.E. personnel like guinea pigs.”

“The staff volunteer, Napoleon…”

Napoleon waved Illya off, shaking his head. “Sure, but the tests that have been run under Woolton’s watch aren’t necessarily the ones we’ve volunteered for.”

“What are you saying, Napoleon?”

“I’m saying that the test Woolton ran on me, including that second injection, was done with the sanction of someone in Section 1.”

“I need to understand what you’re telling me. There’s a Thrush plant in Section 1?”

“No. At least I don’t think so.” Napoleon rested his head back against the wall closing his eyes. “I got the impression from Woolton that this is someone’s pet project.”

Although he was loathe to move, Illya slid off Napoleon’s lap and headed for the kitchen. When he returned, Napoleon was in the same position. Illya slid down the wall, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Napoleon before handing his friend a glass of water.

Napoleon drank without thought, not realizing quite how thirsty he really was. Still was. After emptying the glass, he sat it on the floor before turning back to Illya. “Thanks IK,” he said with a small grin.

Illya returned his smile, squeezing Napoleon’s arm before resting his head on Napoleon’s shoulder. “Do you feel up to telling me what happened?” he asked quietly.

“No. Not really. But I have to. I have to get it off my chest.” He took Illya’s hand, interlacing their fingers, giving him a quick squeeze. “You’re the only one I can tell.”

“You can tell me anything, you know that.”

Napoleon tilted his head so it rested on top of Illya’s. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You do. Maybe that’s part of your problem.”

Chuckling, Napoleon resumed his position with his head leaning back on the wall. “You’re such a smartass.” After a moment, Napoleon blew out a breath. “I’m not sure where to start.”

Illya looked up at Napoleon’s face, noting his pinched expression. “Tell me why you said… what you said. Tell me what Woolton did to get you in such a state that you would…”

A finger on his lips silenced Illya. Napoleon was looking at him with a sadness in his eyes that Illya had never seen before. No, that was not quite true. He’d caught a glimpse of it once before. In Terbuf. With her.

They looked at one another for a long moment before Napoleon broke the spell. Willing himself to recall those humiliating moments, he turned away from his friend.

***

 

“Are you feeling it, Napoleon?” Woolton was standing behind the chair which held Napoleon immobile, whispering into his left ear. “The heat? The fever burning away all of your inhibitions? Your layers? All of those layers of charm that you use as a protective shield against the world?” Moving to Napoleon’s right, he continued. “All of your basest thoughts will come to the fore and your true self will be revealed. You’ll answer my questions with a truth you never realized about yourself.” He emitted a low, cruel-sounding laugh. “Or maybe you have. Look at yourself. Look in the mirror and see the truth.”

Napoleon forced himself to open his eyes, looking straight ahead at the mirror he knew was two-way. He was shocked by his appearance. His once pristine dress shirt was sweat-stained and clinging to his body. His tie was limp, loose and askew. His hair was flat on his skull with his bangs falling forward. His pupils were dilated and his eyes wild-looking. Audibly panting, he tried to reign himself in. Tried to find that center point within himself. Napoleon could see Woolton smirk.

“What do you see Napoleon?”

Napoleon gritted his teeth and growled, trying to prevent himself from rising to the bait.

Woolton whispered. “Do you want to know what I see?”

A low, rumbling growl was the only response Woolton received.

“Tsk tsk. So insecure.” Their eyes met in the mirror. “I see a man who is afraid of the world discovering who he really is. A man whose glib tongue can no longer wrap itself around cloying pick up lines. Whose words are now nothing but ashes in his mouth. A man stripped bare.”

Woolton smiled unpleasantly, changing tactics. “Speaking of pick up lines, Napoleon, who do you think is the woman most easily bedded at HQ? For a while I considered it was Lana in Accounting who seemed to spread her legs more than she worked on spreadsheets.” Pausing to laugh at his own jest, Woolton could hear Napoleon’s teeth grind. “But no. I think the honor goes to Betty in Imaging. I can’t think of a straight man who has worked at HQ who hasn’t taken her for a ride. From what I hear, a few of the queers have taken her out just so they could see what the fuss was all about.” Woolton stepped away from Napoleon’s side to grab a stool, then returned, making himself comfortable. “I can see you don’t believe me. Well, if it’s proof that you want, she has three moles in the small of her back and if you lick them…” Woolton was cut off by the phone ringing. He patted Napoleon on the arm as he stood. “You just stay right where you are,” he said in a mockery of a good-natured tone. “I’ll be right back.”

He strode across the lab, picking up the receiver on the third ring. “Yes? What do you mean you can’t find him? Did you try the labs? Well, how about the gym or the commissary? We’d know if he left the building. You just find him and get him here on the double, you understand?!” Slamming the receiver down, Woolton paused a moment to gather his composure before he turned around, returning his full attention back to Napoleon. Woolton began speaking as he crossed back to his stool.

“Now where were we? Ah yes, the lovely Betty. I must admit I was rather surprised at her inventiveness in bed. I mean, after all, she comes across as a dainty, Southern Belle in the office but in the sack… well, I don’t have to tell you.” Crossing his legs, he leaned forward to speak in conspiratorial tone. “Between you and me, did you even think 69 would be her favorite position? Not that I minded, naturally. For her, all that practice really paid off!” Woolton slapped Napoleon on the arm as he laughed.

Napoleon could taste the copper tang of his own blood as he bit his lips trying to keep himself from speaking. He couldn’t trust what he’d say once he started. His mind was a jumble of rage-filled incoherent thoughts and images. He knew he was rapidly becoming dehydrated. His head was pounding. He was dizzy. His only hope was that he would pass out before he broke.

Woolton’s slap across his face brought him back from his internal reverie.

“Napoleon, it’s not like you to be so rude as to ignore someone who is giving you their full attention. Or is it? Hmm? As I was saying, I generally prefer the missionary position myself, but you… I would imagine you prefer doggie style. In charge. Dominant. Your bedmates completely submissive beneath you. Do the women you date enjoy that Napoleon? I’m sure you can convince a woman or a man of pretty much anything you set your mind to. Speaking of men… Oh, Napoleon don’t give me that look. It’s understood that Section 2 agents have to be flexible on the job. And you’re never really off-duty are you?” Woolton winked at Napoleon, smiling. “I’ve seen you leave with Rodney Thomas out of Section 3 a couple of times. Everyone knows he’d do anything to get into Section 2 and now I understand his transfer has been approved! I do hope you were gentle with the dear boy as we both know he bruises so very easily.”

Woolton was distracted momentarily. Napoleon followed his eyes to a small light flashing on the wall next to the telephone.

With a feral look on his face, Woolton returned his full attention back to Napoleon, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “Tell me the truth Napoleon, did Kuryakin scream for you like he screamed for me when I took him?”

 

***

 

Although it hurt, Napoleon knew he had to finish telling Illya what had happened. He could see it so clearly in his mind…

 

***

Napoleon’s head snapped backwards as he unleashed a roar filled with all the pain, anger, and frustration he was experiencing. Thrashing wildly in the chair, he yelled, “Let me out of this damned chair now, Woolton!”

Woolton slipped off his stool, calmly taking a step backwards, while he casually folded his arms across his chest and smiled.

“Woolton, you lying sack of shit, let me go!”

“I’m wounded, Napoleon. Truly I am. Why would I lie about something like that?” In a low voice he continued, “What if I gave you proof of the men your partner took to his bed?”

“If he’s been with other men I’ll kill him with my bare hands.”

“’Other’ men?”

Napoleon stopped moving as he gave Woolton a look that would have had the most deadly Thrush interrogator running for cover. “That’s not what I said you son-of-a-bitch.”

“Au contraire…”

Napoleon’s struggles resumed with increased vigor as he roared, “Let me out of this fucking chair this instant!”

Nonplussed, Woolton pressed on, lowering his voice once again. “What would you do if you had proof your oh-so-perfect Russian had lain down for me? Hmm. From your reaction, I would think the great Napoleon Solo is jealous that I got that his beautiful blond to spread his legs for me before he did. I can tell you it was Nirvana, Napoleon.”

Marshaling the last of his remaining strength, Napoleon willed his body to remain still and fixing the other man with an icy stare. “Woolton, I’m going to castrate you and shove your dick down your throat.”

“What about all those other men?”

“Every last damned queer had better start running,” Napoleon growled.

“And Illya?” Woolton purred.

“Illya too.”

Casting a sly glance towards the mirror, Woolton smiled triumphantly.

Napoleon resumed struggling violently against his bindings until a large “crack” was heard. Woolton spun on his heels, examining the chair quickly and discovering that one of the large bolts holding the leather straps to the chair was beginning to bend.

He sped to his worktable, grabbing a syringe which he had prepared earlier as insurance. He returned to the chair, plunging the needle into Napoleon’s left hip hoping that the sedative took effect as quickly as it had with previous subjects.

The pain from the injection gave Napoleon a boost of renewed strength as he continued to fight his imprisonment. Just as he felt his left hand come free of the binding, his vision began to cloud over as he fell into darkness.

 

***

Napoleon unleashed an anguished sob as he curled away from Illya into a ball, with his legs curled up against his chest, cradling himself as the humiliating pain tore through him again.

Illya sat stunned. Gradually he was able to turn Napoleon until they were again facing one another. Illya wrapped his body around the shuddering man, his legs pulling him closer still as he guided Napoleon’s head to his own shoulder. Eventually Illya felt his still violently sobbing friend snake his arms around him, hanging on to Illya as if his very life depended on it.

Throughout the remainder of the night Illya never loosened his hold on Napoleon as they sat there rocking gently back and forth.

As dawn was breaking, Napoleon pulled back, sniffling. He refused to meet Illya’s eyes as he scooted backwards, then stood, heading for the bathroom.

Illya stood and stretched before making his way to the kitchen to put a kettle on to boil. Going over to the sink, he splashed cold water on his face, running a damp hand through his hair.

A few moments after he heard the toilet flush, he saw Napoleon slowly emerge from he bathroom looking as exhausted as he had ever seen him. Napoleon trudged to the living room, flopping unceremoniously onto the couch.

As soon as the tea was ready, Illya joined his friend, handing him a mug before settling down on the couch next to him. They sipped their tea in silence, each lost to their own thoughts.

Napoleon leaned forward, setting his empty mug on the coffee table. He sat motionless for a minute with his head in his hands before he spoke.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I did not mean any of those things I said. I didn’t even know what I was saying at the time. I know it’s not an excuse, but,” he looked up at Illya, “well, I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me someday.”

Illya sat his mug down next to Napoleon’s before he spoke gently. “Napoleon, we’re both exhausted. It has been a long 48 hours. Why don’t we get some sleep before we continue this?” Illya looked into Napoleon’s eyes, sighing. “Very well, let us finish this now. I only need to have a few things clarified for me.”

“Anything. You can ask me anything, Illya.”

“Do you hate gay men?”

“No! Of course not.”

“Would you ever truly want to castrate me if you found I’d been with a man outside of an assignment?”

“No! Illya, I wasn’t even listening to what Woolton was saying at that point. That was directed at him, not you. Illya, you are family to me. You are the most important person… I don’t care what your sexual orientation is as long as you’re happy.”

“Do we not share a physical relationship, Napoleon?”

Napoleon shifted on the couch. “Not a sexual one.”

“No, but an intimate one, nevertheless, da?”

“Yes. Yes, we do.”

“Napoleon, I know your sexual appetites extend to both men and women on and off the job, although I will admit that since we have been partnered I’ve noted your sexual encounters with men have all been of a work-related nature.”

“That’s true.” Suddenly concerned, Napoleon said, “If you think that I slept with Rodney…”

Illya waved him off. “No. I knew exactly what those dinners outside of work with Rodney were even if I wasn’t privy to the details. I know that you would not sleep with anyone in order for them to gain advancement. You are an honorable man in that respect.”

“Thank you,” Napoleon said quietly.

Illya paused for a moment to look at his friend and gauge his own courage before he spoke. “Were you jealous? When you thought that I had slept with Woolton?”

Napoleon looked down at his hands. “I think so. That was part of it, yes. I was so angry with him. I could feel the truth serum portion of the concoction – that feeling you get when you know you’re about to say something you’ll regret and you use anything at hand not to say it. Well, I ended up saying something even worse because I couldn’t admit to that prick that I was in love with you.” He looked up smiling ruefully. “I couldn’t say that you wouldn’t ever sleep with him because you simply had to be in love with me. The thought of you with him was the final straw. My guts were twisting…I was in agony.”

Illya looked into Napoleon’s eyes and saw that he was speaking the truth. Illya laid his hands on top of Napoleon’s fidgeting ones. “From the observation room I couldn’t hear what Woolton said. Only you. I couldn’t imagine what he could be saying to you, but now that I know, I understand.” Illya cupped Napoleon’s face with his hands, pulling him forward and gently kissing his forehead. Illya rested his cheek on Napoleon’s forehead, moving his hands around Napoleon’s back. “Why have you never pursued a sexual relationship with me?” He could feel Napoleon stiffen under his hands. “I know we have left it unsaid my friend, but now is the time. The time to clear the air.”

“Illya,” Napoleon sighed. “You are so important to me. I just… I guess I am just afraid of ruining what we have. And we have so much already. I…”

“Do you honestly think after what happened in the lab that it could really change anything between us?” Illya pulled back to look Napoleon in the eyes. “We are already in love with one another,” he smiled. “It makes no sense to deny ourselves that pleasure.”

Napoleon gave him a shaky smile. “You know I rarely deny myself ‘that pleasure’ but now when it matters more than anything else in the world to me I find myself…”

Gently touching his friend on the shoulder, Illya said, “Napoleon, there is no reason for you to be afraid of this. We will face it as we have faced everything before and everything we will in the future. Together.”

Tentatively Illya leaned forward kissing Napoleon on the cheek, slowly turning to seek out Napoleon’s lips. When their lips met, Illya sighed, opening his lips slightly allowing Napoleon entrance. Napoleon’s hand cupped the back of Illya’s head drawing him closer and deepening the kiss. It was a tender exploration, Napoleon’s concern evident. Illya ran his hands through the soft, dark hair of his best friend, assuring him with his loving touch that everything was going to be fine. When they pulled apart, they looked at one another and acknowledged without the need for words that they were going to be alright. That this was right.

Illya unsuccessfully tried to stifle an unexpected yawn. Sheepishly, he said, “I’m sorry Napoleon, but we both need to get some rest.”

They rose together heading towards Illya’s bedroom with Illya first making a detour to the bathroom. Walking into his bedroom, he found Napoleon stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt, already in bed and almost asleep. Illya pulled his clothes off, leaving them on the floor where they fell, before climbing into bed. “Do we need to report in?”

Napoleon opened his eyes a crack. “No, we’ve got twenty four hours of enforced sick leave. Guess nobody wants us around when we’re grumpy and short-tempered as a result of too little sleep.”

“Hmm.” Illya curled up on his side, relaxing for the first time in days. “I have never needed the excuse of lack of sleep to justify my behavior,” he said sleepily. He felt the bed dip as Napoleon rolled over on his side, spooning up behind Illya as he gathered him in his arms. “Are you going to be okay, Napoleon?”

“Yeah. As long as I have you, everything will be just fine.”

Both men fell into a dreamless sleep quickly, their exhaustion catching up with them.