Birthday Fic

[insaneladybug]

So today is rose_of_pollux's birthday. Happy Birthday! She was hoping for an U.N.C.L.E. fic with friendshippy h/c goodness. This is what came out. It probably makes no flippin' sense, so I won't be surprised if people are confused. It also feels like it needs more, but I've really got to get this up, so maybe if I think of anything more, I can add it later.

The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
The Love They Shared
By Lucky_Ladybug

Notes: The characters and organizations are not mine (except Florence) and the story is! This is a birthday fic for Crystal Rose of Pollux, but I'm afraid it's probably not what she was hoping for. It veered off into some oddball paths and brought in some other characters. I couldn't seem to figure out how to put it together otherwise. But hopefully it's got a lot of content that she will find enjoyable. I doubt I will post it anywhere other than here, since it makes it pretty clear that the time period is the present-day. Since The Man From U.N.C.L.E. never really canonically took advantage of the time period in which it was made by bringing in Cold War themes, to me it is not a period piece and the cases are by and large timeless. (Oddly enough, The Odd Man Affair is one of the few episodes that dates the show at all, but since I'm used to Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys books being set in whatever the current present-day is without aging the characters, I find it perfectly natural to ignore dating issues.)

Neither Napoleon nor Illya was a stranger to injuries sustained on the job. They had both been shot, drugged, clobbered, tortured, and nearly killed in multiple ways through the years. But that didn't mean it was ever easier to deal with, especially if it seemed particularly bad.

"Come, Napoleon," Illya urged, struggling to support his partner and friend as they slowly ascended the old stone steps in the cellar of the abandoned home where they had been held and forcefully interrogated by F.O.W.L., a strange branch-off of THRUSH. As if one bird-related organization of evil wasn't enough, Illya thought bitterly.

Napoleon took another step and stumbled, crashing into Illya and sending them both into the cold, damp wall. "I'm sorry, Illya," he slurred. As the senior partner, F.O.W.L. had determined that he had the most valuable information of the two and had focused most of their torture on him. Now he was drugged, bleeding, and only half-conscious.

"You should really go on without me," Napoleon continued. "F.O.W.L. has to be stopped."

"F.O.W.L. will be stopped," Illya harshly retorted. "Right after you are safe in Medical."

"I'm not that . . . bad-off." Again Napoleon tried to walk. This time he slipped and crashed hard on the stone steps, nearly dragging Illya down with him.

Illya only barely managed to brace himself against the wall and by planting one foot hard on a step. "What do you call this, then?" he demanded.

"I'm . . . just a little disoriented," Napoleon insisted. "I'll be fine. Just go on ahead and I'll catch up."

Illya scowled. Of course he hated that idea. But he also knew that F.O.W.L. would waste no time in going ahead with their operation, even though they hadn't got the desired information from Napoleon. If he couldn't get Napoleon out of here soon, he would likely have to do as Napoleon said and leave him behind just long enough to stop their plot. Naturally he would have to call other agents to come get Napoleon, rather than to just leave him like this until he could return, but he still hated to resort to that. Both he and Napoleon knew that the mission came first---it had to, no matter what their personal feelings were. But they tried very hard to ensure that they wouldn't have to make such a decision. Occasionally they had, but not when one or the other was badly hurt.

"Not yet," Illya insisted now. "Come, Napoleon. We will try again." He reached for the other man, trying to pull him to his feet while not sending them both tumbling down the stairs.

Napoleon blinked the bleariness out of his eyes and pushed against the step with his scraped hands, giving himself enough leverage to stumble up with Illya's assistance. "Illya, you know that F.O.W.L. wants to unleash their latest VR technology all across New York City," he slurred. "That will affect us too, if it works."

"Yes, I know." Illya's voice was dark and determined. "And if they do enact it, the last thing I want is for you to experience it all alone in your condition." He half-dragged Napoleon up two more steps.

"I'll be alright," Napoleon insisted.

At last they reached the top and Illya pulled Napoleon out into the backyard. The night air was chill and an ominous breeze swept over the blades of grass. It was hard to say whether it was a natural wind or possibly the first effects of F.O.W.L.'s virtual reality world taking hold of the real world. Either way, it increased Illya's need for urgency and he desperately urged Napoleon around the house to the front.

"What makes you think the car will even start?" Napoleon mumbled, slumping harder against Illya than he really meant to.

Illya froze. "It might not," he said in resignation. "F.O.W.L. may have tampered with it before they left."

"Then you would have to leave me behind and go stop F.O.W.L," Napoleon said. "I'd be alright waiting in the car for help to arrive."

Illya had to concede that if the car wouldn't start, he would certainly have to consider other options more strongly. "There might be a back-up unit five minutes away," he pointed out. "I will find out if it proves necessary."

They reached Napoleon's car and Illya hauled open the passenger door while still supporting Napoleon with one arm around his waist. He eased Napoleon onto the seat, making sure to be gentle, and then quickly examined the vehicle from all angles for bombs. When satisfied of that, he studied the display under the hood more closely and soon scowled. "The distributor cap is missing," he announced.

Napoleon passed a hand over his forehead. "Then it's time for Plan B," he mumbled.

Illya drew out his communicator pen and was just starting to uncap it when a familiar voice spoke from behind him. "You just can't stay out of trouble, can you, Kuryakin?"

Illya turned around very slowly and deliberately, his expression darkening as he focused on Mr. Ecks emerging from the darkness. The ex-enemy agent smirked, his dark fedora shadowing his eyes even without the aid of his usual sunglasses.

"Mr. Ecks," Illya said coolly. "Why are you here? Mr. Wye can't be far behind, I suppose."

"He's checking the house," Ecks answered. "We were hired to stop F.O.W.L."

"That isn't the usual work of a private investigator," Illya noted.

Ecks held up a finger for correction. "It is for troubleshooters."

"Oh, of course. How could I have forgotten." Illya's voice dripped with sarcasm. But just as quickly, he turned away and continued to uncap the communicator. "I do not have time for you tonight. Napoleon has already been badly injured and our mode of transportation has been rendered unusable for the moment."

"So we noticed." Ecks folded his arms. "The distributor cap was gone when we pulled up. And Wye just called and told me about the blood he found downstairs."

"Open Channel D," Illya called.

After a moment the communicator crackled and Mr. Waverly spoke. When Illya explained the problem to him, he turned grave. "This is concerning news, Mr. Kuryakin. But F.O.W.L. must be stopped, and quickly. The technology here is beginning to go haywire. Do you have any alternate means of travel?"

Illya turned to examine Mr. Wye's car, which had been covertly parked across the street. "Yes, Sir," he had to admit. "We have the option of riding with Mr. Ecks and Mr. Wye, who were apparently hired to stop F.O.W.L."

"So you would all be going to the same place."

"With a necessary stop at a hospital or Medical to let Napoleon off," Illya said.

"I'm afraid that unless Mr. Solo's injuries are life-threatening, Mr. Kuryakin, you cannot abandon your mission for even a few minutes," Mr. Waverly replied. "With our technology failing in the face of F.O.W.L.'s devious plans, there is little likelihood that Mr. Solo would even be safe anywhere."

Illya stiffened. "Napoleon is not mortally harmed, as far as I can tell." Heaven forbid. "But he is deeply under the effects of F.O.W.L.'s drugs and he needs treatment for several bleeding wounds."

"Then you will treat him yourself, Mr. Kuryakin," Mr. Waverly insisted. "Perhaps recruit Mr. Ecks or Mr. Wye to help you while the other drives."

Illya set his jaw. "Very well, Sir."

"And do be quick about finding where F.O.W.L. has set up shop now. If they fully release the power of their virtual reality world, who knows what chaos will descend upon our world!" The communicator crackled again and went dead before Illya had a chance to respond.

Immediately he capped the pen and spun around to face the expectant Ecks. "Send for Mr. Wye," he ordered. "We are all leaving together, by Mr. Waverly's orders."

"No please?" Ecks mocked. But he sobered just as quickly. "Alright, Kuryakin. I know Solo needs help and what that means to you." Taking out his phone, he stepped farther away from Illya and dialed a number. After a pause while it rang, he said, "Wye? We have a situation out here. Our mission has just become even more complicated."

Illya didn't bother to listen to the entire conversation. Instead he walked back to the car and opened the glove compartment to retrieve the first aid kit that all prepared U.N.C.L.E. agents took with them.

"What's going on?" Napoleon asked. He watched Illya through half-closed eyes, only barely reacting when Illya applied the sting of antiseptic pads to his wounds. The drugs dulled the sensation somewhat, but in addition to that, Napoleon had felt the sting so many times through the years that by now he was used to it.

"We are going with Mr. Ecks and Mr. Wye," Illya said. "But I am sorry, Napoleon. I will not be able to leave you somewhere while we go on to defeat F.O.W.L."

"That's just as well anyway," Napoleon replied. His mind seemed to have cleared more. "I don't want to sit idly by and watch the city completely fall to F.O.W.L., especially if it only happened because you were trying to get help for me. I'll wait for you while you bring them down, instead."

"We don't even know where they've gone," Illya frowned. "It's highly unlikely that we will be able to escape the onset of their VR world. It seems to already be underway. Unless Mr. Wye has found another clue that makes ours make sense, we can only wander aimlessly through the city and check the few known F.O.W.L. locations in the area."

"One way or another, we'll find the right one," Napoleon said with absolute confidence.

Illya pressed a cloth over the most grievously bleeding wound while keeping Napoleon's arm elevated to curb the flow of blood. He wanted to feel as certain as Napoleon did. He certainly knew that he would never give up on looking, but they had no idea what would happen to them in F.O.W.L.'s world. From the reports they had both read of F.O.W.L.'s attempts at testing their VR worlds in California, heartache and pain had been heaped upon two ex-convicts that one of F.O.W.L.'s top agents had a serious grudge against. She had even made one of them believe that one of her VR characters had brutally murdered every one of his loved ones.

A new determination settled in Illya's eyes. He would not let that happen here. No F.O.W.L. agent would control their fates.

"Yes," he said at last. "Yes, we will."

Ecks suddenly came back over to them. "Wye agreed to help," he reported. "Come on, let's go over to our car."

Illya straightened and gently pulled Napoleon to his feet again. Napoleon swayed, crashing hard into Illya. Although he was fighting to remain awake and aware, the effects of the drug were beginning to cloud his mind again.

Ecks also reached to help him stay upright and keep moving. Illya allowed it, too concerned about the time and about Napoleon to be petty. But even though he didn't really think Ecks and Wye were working against them now, he also knew it would be foolish to completely trust any former enemy agents. He monitored Ecks closely as they walked.

Wye came out of the house and joined them when they arrived at the car across the street. "Well, hello," he greeted. "So Mr. Solo is feelin' a little under the weather, is he?"

"I've been better," Napoleon slurred, stumbling into Illya as Ecks moved to unlock the doors.

"F.O.W.L. was torturing him for information on the virtual reality technology the government uses," Illya said darkly.

"Then that means they must not have as much of it as they really feel they need," Wye decided.

"Perhaps not, but their agent said that they still had enough knowledge to plunge New York City into a virtual reality bubble," Illya said. As Ecks held open the door, Illya eased Napoleon into the backseat and climbed in next to him.

"Was it the bloke with the steel jaw, nose, and teeth?" Wye wondered.

"No," Illya said coolly. "It was the woman named Florence."

"No wonder Solo's in trouble." Ecks shut the door and went around to the other side before getting in on Napoleon's right. "You're going to need some help with these wounds," he said.

"Yes, I am," Illya agreed.

"Oh, don't make such a fuss over me," Napoleon mumbled. "I'll be fine."

"You certainly will," Illya gruffly retorted. "After we help you."

Wye got into the driver's seat and started the engine. "Well, they've cleaned out everything they had in there with them," he reported. "If there were any clues to their main hideout, they took those along with them."

"Naturally they would," Illya grumbled. "They are efficient as well as utterly insane." After a pause, he said, "The only possible clue we were able to discern about their hideout was part of a sandwich wrapper left in a corner of the basement. It's for a restaurant in Brooklyn."

"That could've been left there by some delinquent kid havin' a snack," Wye said.

"That is why it's only a possible clue," Illya retorted.

Wye shrugged. "Since it's all we've got to go on, we'll have to give it a try. We'll check all the known F.O.W.L. hideouts in Brooklyn, especially any by this restaurant. What's it called?"

"Sub World," Napoleon supplied.

"So why did F.O.W.L. branch off from THRUSH anyway?" Ecks wondered. He took up a roll of gauze from the first aid kit and proceeded to wrap another cut on Napoleon's arm.

"I don't know who they even are aside from that," Illya said in irritation. "They are very shadowy and secretive. THRUSH will not even speak of them."

"Hmm. Then maybe the branching off wasn't a friendly parting," Ecks said.

"We have certainly considered that," Illya agreed.

"Only it would be odd if THRUSH didn't want to contribute to their complete destruction if they're all traitors," Napoleon said. A weak sigh of pain escaped his lips as he slumped back against the seat and closed his eyes.

Illya immediately abandoned their discussion topic. "Napoleon!" He gripped Napoleon's shoulder, where he knew there wasn't a wound.

There wasn't a response and Ecks frowned. "He's blacked out."

Illya cursed the F.O.W.L. agents and their torture and drugs under his breath. "He could be unconscious for a while, if this is the drug's doing," he said. Or if he has lost too much blood.

"Well, meanwhile we're almost to Brooklyn," Wye said. He turned the corner. "Watch out for anything unusual or unnatural."

"We are assuming we will know when the VR world takes hold," Illya said. "Perhaps we won't. U.N.C.L.E.'s technology going berserk could be the result of another expert hacker."

"If we don't know when it comes on, then their program is better than we're even givin' them credit for," Wye said.

They drove for a while in relative silence, with Illya continuing to monitor Napoleon's vital signs and occasionally trying to get him to respond. At last Napoleon groaned and stirred, but he still didn't fully awaken.

"I've taken us to three F.O.W.L. hideouts so far," Wye suddenly spoke in irritation. "None of them look like they're in use, unless they're hidin' it."

"Maybe they've built underground tunnels," Ecks suggested, crossing his arms on top of the seat in front of him.

"That's possible," Wye mused, "but it wasn't that long ago when we busted up one of these hideouts and there wasn't anything like that there."

"You're coming up on another hideout," Illya pointed out. "This is the last one in the area that we have on record. And there are two people outside!"

Wye drew closer. "Hello, what's this?" He pulled over to the curb. "That looks like Ginger."

"Your childhood acquaintance Ginger Townsend?" Ecks blinked.

"Yeah. Him and his chum Lou Trevino." Wye peered at them through the windshield. "Wonder what they're up to."

"They must be here on business," Illya said. "Apparently they have gotten mixed up in this F.O.W.L. business, which isn't surprising considering that they are the ones hated by one of F.O.W.L.'s top agents."

"Oho, they're the ones?" Wye started to open the door. "Then I guess this is the place and we'll all be workin' together to stop F.O.W.L."

Ginger turned almost immediately at the sound of Wye's voice. "What are you doing here?" he asked warily.

Illya had to admit to a bit of dark amusement at the obvious suspicion and displeasure in Ginger's voice. "We are all here on official U.N.C.L.E. business, unfortunately," he said. "Have you discovered that this is where F.O.W.L.'s console is located?"

"Yeah." Lou, a New Yorker, also turned to look. "We were just minding our own business at my parents' place when Florence sent us a message that she was gonna drag us into another one of her virtual reality traps! And we're not gonna stand for that."

"What happened to your partner?" Ginger frowned, spotting Napoleon in the backseat.

"Florence was torturing him for information," Illya replied, the anger rising in his voice. "Naturally she learned nothing." He drew his U.N.C.L.E. Special. "Where is the entrance to this hideout?"

"The one we were gonna use is over here," said Lou, pointing to a window. "The only thing is, it's too easy for it to be unlocked. We're worried that it's a trap and us going in will somehow be really bad for us."

"Is there any chance that if you try to destroy the console, you will actually set off the virtual reality world?" Illya wondered.

"It's occurred to us," Ginger said crisply.

"But so what are we gonna do?!" Lou cried.

Illya frowned, pondering on the problem. "Florence must be expecting the two of you to try to stop her," he said. "Whatever she has planned is specifically for you. I will go in instead and try to determine what she has done."

"And you shouldn't go alone, Kuryakin," Ecks spoke up. "Remember, I'm quite expert with computers." He smirked.

"I could never forget." Illya's voice was still cool. "Very well, Mr. Ecks. We will both go. The rest of you should stay outside and watch for any approaching danger." And keep an eye on Napoleon, he added silently to himself. The mission was the most important thing, but Illya could never forget about his long-time partner and yes, his friend. Really, he knew that stopping F.O.W.L. would help Napoleon as well as everyone else, since he couldn't even be taken to Medical with the threat of the VR world looming over them.

Instead of making an obnoxious crack, Wye looked sobered and concerned. "Be careful, Ecks," he said quietly to his friend.

"I'll be fine," Ecks assured him.

Ginger folded his arms. "I had no idea the two of you worked for the government as well."

Wye chortled. "Us? Nah, we're freelancers. Maybe I'll tell you about it sometime."

"I'm not holding my breath," Ginger grunted as he turned away.

Lou's attention was elsewhere. Napoleon was stirring again, and grimacing as he held a bandaged hand to his forehead. Lou went over closer to the car. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked.

Napoleon half-opened his eyes, squinting up at Lou. "Mr. Trevino?" he mumbled. "Where's Illya?"

"He went in that building with some guy in a trenchcoat," Lou replied. "He's a friend of this guy Ginger knew growing up."

Napoleon barely paid attention to that. "Why did they go in that building?" he demanded.

"It's F.O.W.L.'s hideout," Lou replied. "Me and Ginger found out they've got the console in there and they're gonna unleash their new virtual reality world from in there."

Ginger came back to the car now. "Your partner thought that maybe Florence had it rigged so that we would accidentally set the virtual reality world into motion if we tried to destroy the console," he explained. "We wondered about it ourselves. So those two decided to go in and look around."

Napoleon frowned. "And what if that is her plan?"

"Then we're all gonna havta hope those guys have a back-up plan," Lou moaned.

"Illya always has a back-up plan," Napoleon said, sinking back into the seat. "My only real question is whether this one will . . ." He grimaced as he jarred one of the wounds. ". . . Work as it should."

"Well, you can't go in there to find out," Lou objected. "We're all just gonna wait for them here."

Napoleon blinked back the disorienting spots that kept creeping into his vision. "I trust Illya," he slurred. But F.O.W.L. he absolutely did not trust. He hated to think what kind of trap might have been set for whoever came in to stop them.

"Well, we trust him too," Lou said, leaning on the car door. "What we don't trust is that you guys are ever gonna be able to actually catch Florence without her crummy lawyers getting her out."

Napoleon covered his eyes with a shaking hand. Lou, and Ginger, had a right to wonder about that. Mr. Waverly had also been wondering when F.O.W.L. would be brought down. As a branch-off of THRUSH, it was supposed to be smaller and should in theory be easier to stop than the parent organization. But although they had halted F.O.W.L.'s individual schemes, they had never succeeded in putting Florence completely out of circulation. Clearly they needed to step up their efforts in doing that.

"Seems like you blokes really do have a time of it puttin' international organizations of evil out of business," Wye remarked, folding his arms. "You took ours out, but apparently it didn't have anywhere as serious a foothold as THRUSH or this F.O.W.L. does."

"Wait, what?" Lou gaped at Wye. "Your international organization of evil? You were some kind of an enemy agent?"

Ginger raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn't react.

Wye just shrugged. "You two were criminals, as I recall."

"Yes, but we didn't plot against our countries or try to take over the world," Ginger finally spoke, his tone clipped.

Napoleon was barely listening to the conversation. He was focusing on the building, at least as much as he could focus in a drug-induced state. The lights seemed to be flickering oddly. Whether that was planned or whether it was F.O.W.L.'s handiwork was something he wasn't sure of.

Suddenly he caught one particular set of flickers. It was Morse code; Illya was calling for back-up.

Everyone else seemed to notice the flickers at the same time. "They're in trouble," Lou realized in alarm. "Who're we supposed to call?"

"U.N.C.L.E. HQ, probably," Wye drawled. He reached through the window for Napoleon's communicator pen. "If I can just borrow this a moment . . ."

But Napoleon pushed his hand away and started fighting with the door. "Illya wouldn't try to contact us that way unless something happened to his communicator," he said. "He's in trouble."

"And you're already in trouble!" Wye retorted, fighting right back to keep the door closed. "You'll just make it worse goin' in there in your condition!"

Napoleon abandoned the effort and went to the door on the other side. "I can't just sit here. Maybe there's something I can do from outside while you send for back-up."

Wye drew his gun. "I'm goin' in," he shot back. "You forget my partner's in there as well as yours. I've got a stake in this just like you do."

"And we've got a stake in it since Florence was out to get us again," Lou frowned. "We'll all go." He came around to the other side of the car as Napoleon exited.

Ginger was right behind him. "And we'll arrange for back-up." He plucked the communicator pen out of Napoleon's pocket.

"Do what you want." Napoleon stumbled towards the house and the window in question, his hand shaking as he tried to grasp his U.N.C.L.E. Special. As he looked in the window, he saw Ecks firing at several F.O.W.L. agents storming the room. Illya, across the room, had been wounded in the arm but was also firing in determination.

Wye was by Napoleon's side in a moment, shooting through the window at the closest F.O.W.L. agent. Ginger and Lou, sick of being targeted by Florence, had gone to the next window over and discovered more F.O.W.L. agents hurrying towards the room with the fight. While Ginger fired a handgun, Lou threw a knife.

Napoleon really wanted to climb in through the window and get over to Illya, but he knew he was too hurt for that attempt. The dizziness from the drug was coming back again; he had only been able to hold it off for so long, even with his desperation and determination to help his partner and friend. So he fired again and the last F.O.W.L. agent went down.

Illya looked up with a start. "That is not exactly the back-up I meant," he half-scolded.

"No one else could get here in time." Napoleon was starting to slur his words again. He leaned on the window with one arm, watching as Illya slowly got to his feet.

"Ecks, are you alright?" Wye demanded.

"I'm fine," Ecks assured him. "This time I wasn't wounded."

He put away his gun and went over to Illya. "We already destroyed the console," he reported. "Florence has escaped, of course, but we got her second-in-command." He looked pleased with himself. "He told us that there really was a virtual reality program ready to go, but that Florence only planned to test it right now if Townsend and Trevino fell into her trap."

"What?!" Lou's eyes flashed. "She really is demented! And completely serious about bringing us down!"

"Which we already knew," Ginger added. But his eyes had grown dark; it was not news he wanted to hear.

Ecks ignored them both. "And now we have the disc." He held it up.

"We have the disc," Illya corrected, deftly whisking it out of Ecks' grasp. "U.N.C.L.E. will want to look this over for possible clues as to F.O.W.L.'s next move."

"Right now, someone needs to look you over," Napoleon pointed out.

Illya glanced dismissively at his wounded arm. "It is merely a flesh wound. I will be fine." He headed for the door. "We're going to round up all F.O.W.L. agents still alive. Perhaps we will finally be able to break this ring once and for all."

"That'd be the day," Wye quipped.

Illya ignored him. Instead he paused and turned, looking back to the other man at the window. "Thank you, Napoleon," he said quietly.

Napoleon started to nod, but decided against that motion. "You'd do the same for me," he answered.

Everyone there knew that was true---and that it was also true of each of the other sets of two men. Loyalty and friendship could form in all walks of life and among all types of people, something that these six always emphasized. And even though it was highly unlikely that they would ever all be friends with each other, each pair understood the feelings that bound the others together.