A Halloween Treat for Bonniejean1953
Title: Looking Out
Genre: slashish
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1634
Prompt:
bonniejean1953, I hope you enjoy your bit of Halloween fun! Thanks for participating and, of course, to my beta, sparky955 for all her hard work.
It was a familiar scene. They escaped from THRUSH, but then lost both the microfilm and their Innocent to them. The woman had panicked and bolted straight into THRUSH fire. Illya yelled and Napoleon watched a hail of gunfire take him down.
Napoleon charged and wiped out the men without even remembering the moment. All he saw was anger and red… then he realized the place was on fire. He went for Illya, but the man was gone, apparently dragged off by other enemy agents.
Suddenly the roof caved in and, despite his misgivings, Napoleon had to scurry for safety. He was only a few hundred yards away when there was an explosion. At least, THRUSH wouldn’t profit from the microfilm, either, or so he hoped.
He wasn’t sure when the rain started, but by the time he’d stumbled into the empty church, he was drenched, chilled to the bone and miserable. Illya was gone, the mission was gone. In fact, everything he lived for was crushed and empty at the moment. Still, he followed his training. He needed to get word to UNCLE. Grieving would come later.
He searched the church vestibule, finally finding a box of donated clothes. He paused to dig out some dry clothes and made a face at the objects..
“Of course, they would be women’s clothes,” he muttered to a nearby stature. Joseph said nothing, but smile benignly at him. Napoleon had to settle for a loose yellow dress and an oversized sweater. Both smelled faintly of cow manure and cheap perfume. Someone had at least tried to make them more appealing.
“At least I’ll be warmer if not fashionable.” He looked up at St. Joseph and automatically crossed himself. Old habits died hard. “You look after workers, my friend. I could do with a bit of your help now”. A sharp crack of lightning made Napoleon jump and he smiled. “I’m in a church, what could happen to me in a church?” He stripped quickly and pulled the shift on and then the sweater over that.
He collapsed on a pew and looked up at the altar. He hadn’t been in a church for a long time, not since his wife’s funeral. And, for some reason, he thought about Sammy.
No one gets left behind, not ever. It had been drilled into his head for a long as he could remember. In school, he was taught to hold hands with his assigned classmate on field trips. Napoleon always seemed to get the prettiest girls, too, He’d have preferred Sammy, although not the holding hands part so much. That would have just been weird.
Napoleon and Sammy went way back. They met in first grade and there was an immediate attraction. Kids made fun of Napoleon because of his name and of Sammy because he wasn’t as smart as everyone else. Sammy was the first one to call Napoleon, “Lucky” and the name stuck. Napoleon told Sammy that he was smart enough for both of them and proved it, tutoring and encouraging Sammy all through grade and high school.
When it came time to enlist, they did it together just as they’d done everything else. In the military, he was told that you always looked after your boot camp buddy, keeping an eye open when in battle. That was easy. He’d been looking out for Sammy his entire life.
He and Sammy had weathered many fights and always made it back until one night Sammy got an extreme stomach ache. Napoleon went out alone that mission, well, as alone as you could be with forty other guys. He came back, all ready to tell Sammy about it, only to be informed that Sammy had died of a ruptured appendix.
Napoleon fell into a deep depression, blaming himself for Sammy’s death, for not pushing harder for him to see a medic early on, but guys were like that. Even the Chaplain came to talk to him, but to no avail. Then about a week later, he woke up from a troubled sleep to see Sammy, smiling and happy, standing at the foot of his bed. He gave Napoleon a thumbs up, nodded, and vanished. It gave Napoleon the peace he needed to get on with his life.
Napoleon was alone after that, never seeking out the company of another man. He gained quite the reputation as a ladies man, but other men found him standoffish. Napoleon dated, danced, and laughed, but never with another guy… until Illya came along.
There had been something about the man. The connection was there immediately. He and Illya danced through dozens of assignments and always came out the other side together, alive, if not always in the best of shape. They were friends, partners and close to even more than that.
No one gets left behind. It was if the words had been whispered in his ear. He glanced over his shoulder and he saw something… someone out of the corner of his eye. This has happened to him so many times over the years that he’d lost count. Illya called it his fairy godmother but Napoleon had another thought.
It took him a minute to find his voice. “Sammy?”
“Hey, Lucky, I’ve missed you.” Sammy’s voice was so familiar that it sang in Napoleon’s ear.
Napoleon’s head reeled and he gasped. “Oh, God, am I dead?”
“Couldn’t be farther from it. You just looked like you needed a friend.”
“You have no idea how much. I lost him, Sammy, just like I lost you. I swore I’d never care for anyone else like I did you, but I… failed both of you.”
“You didn’t really lose me, Lucky. You just can’t always see me. I’ve been around, making sure your luck didn’t run out any sooner than planned.”
Napoleon turned then in the pew and looked hard at his old friend. ”Why are you wearing a sheet, Sammy?”
“Gosh, Lucky, so you can see me. Why you wearing a dress, Lucky? Something you want to tell me?”
Napoleon laughed at that, caught up in the moment. “Are you really here or are you just a hallucination?”
“No idea, really.” Sammy laughed and Napoleon’s heart ached. He’d missed it so. “Hey, I can’t stay for all that long, but I wanted to tell you, there’s a place in the back. The priest fellow is gone for the week, but there’s some food and a fireplace.”
Napoleon turned back to the altar. “Thanks.”
“You need to eat something and get warm.”
“Why? What difference does it make?”
“You have to finish the mission, Lucky.”
“Why bother? There will just be another one after it and someone else will die.”
“Who died this time?”
The sound of Illya’s voice made Napoleon sit up straight. The storm had lessened, although the wind was still wailing. For a moment he was afraid it had been a dream, but then he saw his partner, wet, bloodstained, and trembling, but alive.
“Illya! How?” Napoleon managed to get to his side just as Illya’s knees gave way. He caught Illya just before he hit the floor.
“I like your dress.” Illya smiled weakly as Napoleon gathered him onto his lap. It was an old joke between them.
“This old thing? I just threw on the first thing I saw this morning.” He could feel Illya shiver. “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes and warmed up a bit. I’m told there’s an opening in the back.”
He helped Illya to his feet and headed back to where Sammy had told him about the rectory. Thank God Sammy mentioned it for Napoleon would have never thought to look for one.
After stripping Illya out of the wet clothes and wrapping him in a pile of slightly musty-smelling blankets, Napoleon settled Illya upon an uncomfortable settee.
“What’s in this thing? Rocks?” The storm seemed to take offense at that and started hammering on the roof. “Rough night out. Glad I’m in.”
It took Napoleon a bit to get the fire going, for he kept checking on Illya, afraid that he might vanish the way Sammy did.
“What’s wrong?” Illya coughed and hunkered down. “Forget how to build one?”
“Just making sure I’m not dreaming.”
“Would you put yourself in a yellow dress in your dreams?”
Napoleon laughed at that. The fire caught finally and roared to life. That accomplished, Napoleon started the search for food. After all, Sammy had been right about the fire, so why not the rest?
Some stale bread, hard cheese, and water was all he found, but it was enough for now. “We are going to have to donate a goodly amount to this church for its hospitality.”
Illya nodded, but saved his energy for chewing. Napoleon did the same. The room grew warm and he watched Illya’s head start to bob. He knew he needed to let his partner sleep, but he had to ask.
“Illya, how did you escape?”
“No idea.” He coughed again and resettled himself. “One minute I was dodging bullets, then the building blew and the next thing I knew, I was in a field. It was raining like nobody’s business and I felt so drained. Then I saw this soldier. He got me to my feet and brought me here. I couldn’t have been more surprised to see you. I thought you’d been killed in the explosion.”
“I thought you’d been shot.” Napoleon tilted Illya’s head, pretending to look for an injury, but really just wanting to touch him.
“Nope, this is all from afterwards, I think. Sure would like to thank that solider, though.”
Napoleon looked up then. A sheet covered figure stood there. It gave him a thumbs up and then vanished from view. “Sammy, his name was Sammy.”
Genre: slashish
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1634
Prompt:
bonniejean1953, I hope you enjoy your bit of Halloween fun! Thanks for participating and, of course, to my beta, sparky955 for all her hard work.
It was a familiar scene. They escaped from THRUSH, but then lost both the microfilm and their Innocent to them. The woman had panicked and bolted straight into THRUSH fire. Illya yelled and Napoleon watched a hail of gunfire take him down.
Napoleon charged and wiped out the men without even remembering the moment. All he saw was anger and red… then he realized the place was on fire. He went for Illya, but the man was gone, apparently dragged off by other enemy agents.
Suddenly the roof caved in and, despite his misgivings, Napoleon had to scurry for safety. He was only a few hundred yards away when there was an explosion. At least, THRUSH wouldn’t profit from the microfilm, either, or so he hoped.
He wasn’t sure when the rain started, but by the time he’d stumbled into the empty church, he was drenched, chilled to the bone and miserable. Illya was gone, the mission was gone. In fact, everything he lived for was crushed and empty at the moment. Still, he followed his training. He needed to get word to UNCLE. Grieving would come later.
He searched the church vestibule, finally finding a box of donated clothes. He paused to dig out some dry clothes and made a face at the objects..
“Of course, they would be women’s clothes,” he muttered to a nearby stature. Joseph said nothing, but smile benignly at him. Napoleon had to settle for a loose yellow dress and an oversized sweater. Both smelled faintly of cow manure and cheap perfume. Someone had at least tried to make them more appealing.
“At least I’ll be warmer if not fashionable.” He looked up at St. Joseph and automatically crossed himself. Old habits died hard. “You look after workers, my friend. I could do with a bit of your help now”. A sharp crack of lightning made Napoleon jump and he smiled. “I’m in a church, what could happen to me in a church?” He stripped quickly and pulled the shift on and then the sweater over that.
He collapsed on a pew and looked up at the altar. He hadn’t been in a church for a long time, not since his wife’s funeral. And, for some reason, he thought about Sammy.
No one gets left behind, not ever. It had been drilled into his head for a long as he could remember. In school, he was taught to hold hands with his assigned classmate on field trips. Napoleon always seemed to get the prettiest girls, too, He’d have preferred Sammy, although not the holding hands part so much. That would have just been weird.
Napoleon and Sammy went way back. They met in first grade and there was an immediate attraction. Kids made fun of Napoleon because of his name and of Sammy because he wasn’t as smart as everyone else. Sammy was the first one to call Napoleon, “Lucky” and the name stuck. Napoleon told Sammy that he was smart enough for both of them and proved it, tutoring and encouraging Sammy all through grade and high school.
When it came time to enlist, they did it together just as they’d done everything else. In the military, he was told that you always looked after your boot camp buddy, keeping an eye open when in battle. That was easy. He’d been looking out for Sammy his entire life.
He and Sammy had weathered many fights and always made it back until one night Sammy got an extreme stomach ache. Napoleon went out alone that mission, well, as alone as you could be with forty other guys. He came back, all ready to tell Sammy about it, only to be informed that Sammy had died of a ruptured appendix.
Napoleon fell into a deep depression, blaming himself for Sammy’s death, for not pushing harder for him to see a medic early on, but guys were like that. Even the Chaplain came to talk to him, but to no avail. Then about a week later, he woke up from a troubled sleep to see Sammy, smiling and happy, standing at the foot of his bed. He gave Napoleon a thumbs up, nodded, and vanished. It gave Napoleon the peace he needed to get on with his life.
Napoleon was alone after that, never seeking out the company of another man. He gained quite the reputation as a ladies man, but other men found him standoffish. Napoleon dated, danced, and laughed, but never with another guy… until Illya came along.
There had been something about the man. The connection was there immediately. He and Illya danced through dozens of assignments and always came out the other side together, alive, if not always in the best of shape. They were friends, partners and close to even more than that.
No one gets left behind. It was if the words had been whispered in his ear. He glanced over his shoulder and he saw something… someone out of the corner of his eye. This has happened to him so many times over the years that he’d lost count. Illya called it his fairy godmother but Napoleon had another thought.
It took him a minute to find his voice. “Sammy?”
“Hey, Lucky, I’ve missed you.” Sammy’s voice was so familiar that it sang in Napoleon’s ear.
Napoleon’s head reeled and he gasped. “Oh, God, am I dead?”
“Couldn’t be farther from it. You just looked like you needed a friend.”
“You have no idea how much. I lost him, Sammy, just like I lost you. I swore I’d never care for anyone else like I did you, but I… failed both of you.”
“You didn’t really lose me, Lucky. You just can’t always see me. I’ve been around, making sure your luck didn’t run out any sooner than planned.”
Napoleon turned then in the pew and looked hard at his old friend. ”Why are you wearing a sheet, Sammy?”
“Gosh, Lucky, so you can see me. Why you wearing a dress, Lucky? Something you want to tell me?”
Napoleon laughed at that, caught up in the moment. “Are you really here or are you just a hallucination?”
“No idea, really.” Sammy laughed and Napoleon’s heart ached. He’d missed it so. “Hey, I can’t stay for all that long, but I wanted to tell you, there’s a place in the back. The priest fellow is gone for the week, but there’s some food and a fireplace.”
Napoleon turned back to the altar. “Thanks.”
“You need to eat something and get warm.”
“Why? What difference does it make?”
“You have to finish the mission, Lucky.”
“Why bother? There will just be another one after it and someone else will die.”
“Who died this time?”
The sound of Illya’s voice made Napoleon sit up straight. The storm had lessened, although the wind was still wailing. For a moment he was afraid it had been a dream, but then he saw his partner, wet, bloodstained, and trembling, but alive.
“Illya! How?” Napoleon managed to get to his side just as Illya’s knees gave way. He caught Illya just before he hit the floor.
“I like your dress.” Illya smiled weakly as Napoleon gathered him onto his lap. It was an old joke between them.
“This old thing? I just threw on the first thing I saw this morning.” He could feel Illya shiver. “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes and warmed up a bit. I’m told there’s an opening in the back.”
He helped Illya to his feet and headed back to where Sammy had told him about the rectory. Thank God Sammy mentioned it for Napoleon would have never thought to look for one.
After stripping Illya out of the wet clothes and wrapping him in a pile of slightly musty-smelling blankets, Napoleon settled Illya upon an uncomfortable settee.
“What’s in this thing? Rocks?” The storm seemed to take offense at that and started hammering on the roof. “Rough night out. Glad I’m in.”
It took Napoleon a bit to get the fire going, for he kept checking on Illya, afraid that he might vanish the way Sammy did.
“What’s wrong?” Illya coughed and hunkered down. “Forget how to build one?”
“Just making sure I’m not dreaming.”
“Would you put yourself in a yellow dress in your dreams?”
Napoleon laughed at that. The fire caught finally and roared to life. That accomplished, Napoleon started the search for food. After all, Sammy had been right about the fire, so why not the rest?
Some stale bread, hard cheese, and water was all he found, but it was enough for now. “We are going to have to donate a goodly amount to this church for its hospitality.”
Illya nodded, but saved his energy for chewing. Napoleon did the same. The room grew warm and he watched Illya’s head start to bob. He knew he needed to let his partner sleep, but he had to ask.
“Illya, how did you escape?”
“No idea.” He coughed again and resettled himself. “One minute I was dodging bullets, then the building blew and the next thing I knew, I was in a field. It was raining like nobody’s business and I felt so drained. Then I saw this soldier. He got me to my feet and brought me here. I couldn’t have been more surprised to see you. I thought you’d been killed in the explosion.”
“I thought you’d been shot.” Napoleon tilted Illya’s head, pretending to look for an injury, but really just wanting to touch him.
“Nope, this is all from afterwards, I think. Sure would like to thank that solider, though.”
Napoleon looked up then. A sheet covered figure stood there. It gave him a thumbs up and then vanished from view. “Sammy, his name was Sammy.”