HEADQUARTERS NEW YORK

 

Mid-strike, the terrible pressure of the terror-inducing beam ceased.  Those still standing blinked and recovered quickly. Those down, stayed down.  Napoleon Solo had the job that day of remaining out of the heavily shielded spaces of the Command.  He and April Dancer traded off each day of the interminable wait.  Sitting in a small locked room, alert for any communication from Illya, he was unarmed and had taken no sharp objects into the room with him.  He remained physically unharmed, and had been able to shield himself somewhat from the mind numbing terror that invaded the synapses of his brain.  With the sudden cessation he caught Illya’s presence immediately.

Napoleon had evolved also.  Grown in power, he still remained several steps below his friend.  However, his reach and reception were now phenomenal. 

He and Waverly had planned several workable and quick rescue scenarios, on the off chance they’d be needed.  One was.

Napoleon was out of his cage in three heartbeats, running headlong to the Command and Control room where April, Mark and Alexander Waverly were safely ensconced. 

“Plan Alpha now Sir.  Illya is down, but alive.  Not far outside the egress.   About five meters below it I should think.

The helicopters took off within five minutes from Gorkha.

 

****************************************************

 

Illya lay on the edge of consciousness, singed in some places by the blast which had propelled him and the doors, and bleeding from several places caused by the fall and roll to a ledge indeed five meters below the gaping hole in the side of the mountain.  His head hurt abominably, his left shoulder was probably dislocated, he could hardly draw breath but couldn’t determine why.  His mind reached out with his remaining strength to his friend who was right there waiting for him.  (they are blocked inside napoleon but not dead don’t send )  But the rest of that thought was cut off. 

There was a second way out of course.  It took Enfield nearly half an hour to get his Talents together and in readiness to travel.  Being in gestalt with the machine that spread fear and death took up much energy.  Lying in their specially designed couches in the deepest enclave of the mountain refuge, they lay stunned and unmoving.  Entering the room, Enfield shook and shouted until they stumbled one by one, out the door and toward the second egress hidden by the helipad.    Keeping Kuryakin powerless to move with his utmost attention, Enfield knew he was close to his ultimate goal – possession.  Then relocation could proceed, and then the final play would be at hand, once Kuryakin was brought “around”.  Busy shepherding his wounded flock and gloating, he failed to note the danger approaching from another quarter.  Enfield activated the automatic four-foot square door covering their escape hatch, and urged his weary and disoriented band up the stone steps leading to it.

The U.N.C.L.E. helicopter got there thirty seconds before the group reached the fresh air.  Spitting hell-fire from the front facing mounted machine guns, the helicopter blanketed the spotted egress.  The pilot grinned viciously at the sight of the people stumbling back down the stone steps in panic.  They had never been in the line-of–fire before.  It broke their nerve.  Two were hit and were left by the rest of the group.   Nikita fired an armor-piercing missile at the hastily shut doors before veering off and down to sight the man on the ledge.   She radioed the backup squad in the specially fitted rescue helicopter to hurry.  No movement from the figure lying atop one steel door and partially beneath another.  As for the small group who’d fled to the safely (maybe) of the rock, she hoped they’d starve to death, or been crushed by falling rock.  She had reduced the door and the surrounding area to rubble with the powerful explosive in the missile’s warhead.  She would have dearly loved to blast as much of the mountain to smithereens as possible, if not for the fear of causing further damage to Illya Nickovetch. 

Nikita probed the figure on the rocks below her.  Nothing from Illya.  But from another source, she felt a growing panic and one hot spot of towering rage.  She wasn’t sufficiently skilled yet to tell exactly what was going on.  If she had been, things would have gone better along down the line.  Right now, her attention remained riveted on Illya.  Thoughtlessly she batted away the intruding thoughts of the enemy and looked about for a possible landing site.  There was none to be found.  At this height, hardly a space big enough to trek safely existed. 

The Medivac team arrived two minutes later.  She watched from a distance as two people were lowered on strong cables.  They carried a collapsible stretcher and more cables to secure it.  The process took only ten minutes.  The time factor was short since they didn’t know what forces waited nearby.  The team knew they had to move fast, so they secured the unconscious body, after checking the neck carefully to be sure it wasn’t broken, and motioned the pilot to lift them up.  The two helicopters sped away into the twilight, headed toward Kathmandu and the only American run hospital in the kingdom.

The first helicopter landed within twenty minutes of takeoff and unloaded.  Nikita was not far behind.  She ran to catch up with the stretcher being carefully taken into the building.  Its passenger opened his eyes upon her contact.

“Nikita?  You don’t follow directives very well, do you.” Illya whispered.  Then stronger,  “Where are we?”

“Safe. Now hush up.”

Three hours later, with Illya sewn, bandaged, taped and the shoulder back in its proper place, Nikita bullied her way into his room.  The chances of removing her were nil.  The attendants realized this very quickly.  They gave up without further struggle and left; one rubbing his shoulder where she’d manhandled him against a wall.

They were not out of the woods yet, not with those people still alive not so far away.  Fully armed and very dangerous, she awaited word concerning further movement.

 

Instead of coming from Headquarters, Illya whispered words from a damaged throat.

“Nikita, we have to get out of this place now.  Enfield and his depleted group are still alive and working their way to a far tunnel on the side that we didn’t know existed.  We have perhaps an hour.  Help me up.”

“You must be joking Illya, you can’t walk and I can’t carry you far in your condition.”

He rose painfully to his feet, swaying alarmingly. 

“Find me something to wear would you?”  He gave her the best smile he could, and sat down as a wave of darkness came over his vision.  “We have a safe place to get to and not much time.”

Nikita rifled through the various cabinets in the room, finally locating a long white burnoose-like cover, with hood.  She held it up, and he nodded. 

As he held up his right arm to let her slip the burnoose over his head every cut, burn, and bruise screamed in protest.  ‘This is getting monotonous,’ he told himself.  ‘It’s a lot like the old days.’

“Now, if you’ll just help me stay on my feet, we’ll be on our merry way.”

Nikita bullied her way through the first hall, then found an unattended wheel chair, and eased Illya into it.  They passed a rarity on the way out – a phone.  In this kingdom, not many people had one.  Illya, however, knew someone who did, and who could and would come to their rescue without questions.  If she was home, that is.  Offering a small prayer, he dialed Chandra’s number.  The lady in question picked up the phone on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Chandra, it’s me, and I need your help.”

“Illya Nickovetch, you, you,….”

“Please, Chan, send a car to the American Hospital soonest.  I’ll explain when I see you.”

The phone slammed down.

But the car came within minutes.

 

            *********************************************   

 

The car that came was a luxurious long black limousine.  Nikita and Illya got into the back and it sped away. 

“OK,” Nikita whispered, “who’s this friend, and what should I do?”

“No need to whisper,” Illya whispered.  “This limo will take us to a very fine house, owned by one Chandra Oneychia.  She and I had rather close ties a few years ago.  You need do nothing, Nikita.  Well, that’s not true.  Stay alert to danger from Enfield and friends, as I will.  Can you feel them?  Sort of like a low buzz just behind your eyes?  They’re still far enough away not to be an immediate danger, but they’ll come to capture us given the opportunity.”  Illya was very busy mentally, providing a shield not only for him, but for her as well.  He did find it easier than he’d have thought, though, to provide the cover for another.  

“I can feel something, yes.  Is this an old lover we’re going to see?”

“Ummm. Do you truly require clarification?  She can get us somewhere where we’ll be safe beyond a reasonable doubt.  Let me give a quick explanation of how things are between the opposing Talents, as it were.  Enfield is the leader of the cabal that is EWI.  At least we believe him to be the strongest, and we hope he’s it for them.  We are in motion.  They are in motion.  They are disorganized now, and their power damped for some reason.  We are most “visible” to them when we travel, and vice versa.  Right now we’re in a stalemate.  But if they get here before we reach our intended destination in Kathmandu, then we may have lost this game.  I am trying to get us to an extraordinary place here that remains inviolate to evil.  Well, that sounds rather lame, doesn’t it?   

We are on our way, soon I hope, to Swayambhunath, a most sacred site of the Newari Buddhists.  This is a place I have found refuge in before.  Long ago when…”  Here he had to stop for a while, as his throat seized up painfully.

“Save the explanations Illya, for a bit later.  So much has happened that I’m ready to just ride in silence and accept what happens.”   You haven’t placed yourself yet have you Illya Love?   By what name are you truly known?  And me, where do I fit in this? 

He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“One more thing,” he rasped.  “You’re going to have to acquire more suitable attire before we gain entrance to the holy site.”  Nikita was dressed in a tight fitting black leather ensemble, most suitable for the piloting of helicopters and assaulting deadly forces.  “Hopefully Chandra will accommodate us there.  We have the entire city to traverse now, going northeast to southwest.  I’ll take the opportunity to rest, if you don’t mind?”    

Nikita slipped over to the opposite seat, and Illya painstakingly arranged himself full out on the wide seat.  Within seconds, he was asleep.

This was the first time Nikita had been to Nepal.  Kathmandu was a place she’d hope to go to someday, having read extensively about its sights and the beauty that surrounded the ancient city.  She would have thought she’d been jaded by her extensive travel to exotic places in the service of Section One.  She was wrong.  This city was truly breathtaking.  The surrounding countryside was dauntingly beautiful.  This she’d noticed flying in.  If only they could find this mysterious safe place he’d mentioned, and stay for a while.  Would the world hold still long enough?  Probably not, she thought with a pang.  The long travel and the fear and uncertainty of the rescue operation took their toll, and she slept too.

 

Jerking awake, she found the limo slowing to a stop in front of a temple-style building.  She reached over to cautiously touch Illya, still sleeping on the opposite seat.  Lord, he looked like he’d been in a train wreck.  Black and blue and singed where she could see, and bandaged where he was hidden from sight; she wondered if he could handle any more action.  

He awoke with a start, then groaned helplessly as the pain made itself felt.  Nevertheless, he thought grimly, have to stand up now and walk in like a man.  Chandra was indeed an old lover.  They’d met while he took instruction from a cousin of hers five years ago.  She was not going to be easy to pacify.  Their parting was less than amicable, much as he’d tried to make it so.   But she would help in this crisis; that he was sure of. 

The large, ornate residence Illya and Nikita were ushered into was done in the old Newari style, with much intricate wood carving and sumptuous carpets and wall hangings.  Four stories tall, this particular residence, unlike most, housed only the one family and their servants.   These servants assisted both in removing their shoes, then immediately served them chang or butter tea, the traditional welcoming drink when one visits a Nepali home.

The sights, tastes and scents brought back fond memories for Illya.  So did the appearance of their hostess.   She made a grand entrance once her guests had been suitably put at ease in deeply cushioned settees, with their tea and sweetmeats.  Both guests rose as she approached.  Nikita quickly, Illya slowly.  The Lady Chandra motioned for them to sit.  No handshakes were in order.  Touching socially is uncommon.  Chandra merely welcomed them with the respectful greeting:

“Namashkar.”  Which Illya returned.

 Very well, he thought. She has set the tone with great formality.     

            “If you do not mind Lady Chandra, we will converse in English.”  Illya began.

“May I introduce my companion, Miss Nikita Dane?”

            Nikita was unsure what to do here, so she smiled and remained stiffly seated, studying the beautiful woman who gazed  into her eyes.  Eyes so dark they appeared black, studied her, giving nothing away.  The face did not move, except the generous mouth smiled.  The Lady Chandra had not anticipated a companion, and it displeased her.  Somehow, she managed to shut her mind away from the hurts her former intimate companion was obviously suffering from.  Cold, I must be cold, she thought.

            “I had thought is was only you, Illya who required help.  But I am still most willing to lend what assistance I can.  What are your needs?”

“Clothing and transportation.  And a message to your brother, so that he may expect us.  The need is great, the danger we flee insidious.”   Illya looked deep into her eyes in silent entreaty.  So much he should say, but it would be horribly impolite to say it here and now.  He only hoped she could read his eyes, as she’d done so well in the past. 

Chandra looked down quickly, trying to hide the tide of emotions those eyes invoked. 

“Very well, Illya Nickovetch.  I sense a great disturbance, and even greater danger.  Therefore, without further questions and time wasted I’ll do as you ask.”

Oh Buddha, she thought, to be so close to this man once again and know we cannot reclaim what was, is fitting punishment for past indecent behavior.  Do not show him this, please.  Gods help me.  Her flushed face hidden by her bowed head, she rose quickly, then walked sedately out of the salon.

Illya stood up, unnoticed by the lady, and watched her leave, naked tenderness softening his battered face. 

“Now what?” asked Nikita softly.

“Now, we will be well tended and safely ensconced in the Swayambhunath Temple.  That is if we get there before the cabal reaches us.  Near this Temple, Nikita, is buried the Lotus of the Enlightenment.  Buried beneath the great stupa to save it from the coming of the Kali Yuga, or Dark Age, it shines still.  Much power resides there for those equipped to discern it.  You will see, and probably feel what I am describing when we arrive.  I just wonder how I am going to get up the steps.”

 

            *********************************************

 

THE GREAT STONE STUPA OF SWAYAMBNUHATH

 

 

Two scant hours later, after another small nap, Nikita found herself comfortably laid out on soft cushions in the gompa, or Tibetian Buddhist Temple hard by the stupa hiding the miraculous Lotus.  The first floor was a resting house, for pilgrims in need of such.  The second floor was the actual Temple, and chants floated down to them from the upper level.  The location and sounds provided a perfectly relaxing place to rest and recover.  The High Priest had uttered many words, none of which Nikita could decipher.  Illya had seemed well pleased though. 

At one time, during the conversation, Illya had appeared acutely embarrassed, for some reason.  The High Priest of the Temple had bowed to him.  She hoped to pull the circumstances that precipitated that action out of her difficult, silent companion at first opportunity. 

Right now, however, she reclined in the luxury of the brilliantly colored silk sheath, robe, and veils that the mysterious Lady Chandra had provided her.  Her feet encased in soft soled beaded slippers, she felt quite like a figure from the Arabian Nights.  But she was not Scheherazade, no; Illya would have to tell the tales.  Yes indeed.  But not now.  Now it was enough to be quit of the tension brought on by the proximity of the cabal.  And it was gone. Simply, miraculously gone.  She’d not been really aware of how much their presence had colored her world in the past weeks.  Now that it had disappeared, she knew what it was she’d felt.  It was best described as a low headache, constant and tormenting, with the accompanying deep-seated unease that sometimes precludes onset of a debilitating disease.   She felt light and giddy here.  Also pulled toward happiness by whatever power resided beneath the stone stupa.  Illya had been right, she could indeed feel the power. 

She wished her companion shared her sense of peace.  He stood at the window looking across at the stupa, silent and stiff.    

“What is it Illya?  What upsets you so here?  Aren’t we safe now?  I feel safe enough at the moment.” 

He turned towards her.  Took in the vision she presented.  And decided to shake the unpleasant implications mentioned by the High Priest in their conversation of a few minutes ago.  Here and now would be the perfect place to explain and teach this wonderful helpmeet that had come into his life quite unexpectedly.  Perhaps the miraculous fifth member of what could become their own powerful group.  Perhaps, yes.  No better place would present itself.  He’d asked Ami-Ahmendra to contact Headquarters; letting Waverly and the rest know they were safe.  His powerful mind wouldn’t work at that level here.  Here was a place of refuge, where such powers were muted; not needed.  Time to be human, he thought with mixed emotions.  Time for explanations. 

She watched his face carefully for what seemed like ten minutes, while he sorted out what to say first.

“Nikita, its time..” he whispered.

“Wait, Illya, you aren’t going to explain much today, not with that damaged throat.  Why don’t we rest here for a while first.  Just answer this one.  Are we safe?”

“Yes.”   

“Then stop being Indiana Jones, and get down here and let me take a good look at you.  The monks know what they’re doing.  See, they’ve provided me with the tools to tend your hurts.”  She displayed the bag of nostrums provided.  “And I am so very good with hurts.  Put your body here next to mine, Illya.  Surrender.”

Oh, I’d love to surrender to your tender ministrations lovely Nikita, he thought longingly.  More than you know.  Very well, surrender it is.  And he lay where she indicated, wincing in spite of himself as his shoulder touched the pillows. 

“I ah, think we’ll have to wait a while before I demand my payments,” she teased.  “You are in no shape right now.”

“Payments?”

“Well, I rescued you from Section One, I rescued you in the world beyond, I rescued you today from the unholy clutches of those monsters.   That makes a least three you owe me Mr. Kuryakin.”

“What is it that you require from me My Lady?” he began.

Instead of an answer in words, she leaned over and kissed him softly on his mouth. 

The affect on both was breathtakingly, overwhelmingly erotic.  He reached with his good right arm to bring her mouth hard onto his own, ignoring the pain it brought.  Exploring her lips with his, then parting them with his tongue, he licked at the edges of the mouth he’d hungered for.

With a passion matching his she began sliding closer to his body, anxious to explore.  Only to feel his involuntary moan in her mouth.  Pain and pleasure warred.  Common sense won out.  They were in an open room, in a holy place.  His body too battered to allow appropriate sexual abandon anyway.  Oh, but I have your attention now, my good man.  And I won’t be put off much longer.  

“Nikita,” he whispered into her ear, tenderly.  “I will pay in abundance, the delicious ransom you demand.”

“One more down-payment,” she moaned, and brought her lips to his once again. 

 

            *********************************************

Throughout the night he burned.  This was nearly impossible, to lie so close and not to have her.  Hardly the place and time, he thought.  Distractions were brought to mind only to shatter in the heat of desire.  Finally he slept, exhausted. 

Before he awoke the next afternoon, she’d risen to wash in the small antechamber in back of the resting house.  It was good that they were the only “pilgrims” currently occupying this place.  She had no second outfit, no underthings, and no robe.  Naked in the sunlight pouring through the high window in the small chamber, she passed her hands down her own contours and allowed contemplation of Illya’s hands going over her tingling skin.  My God, those kisses had been arousing enough to send her spiraling toward her own sexual climax all by themselves.  What would it be like when he actually touched her?   Would she survive it?  Did he feel the same?  

An intake of breath alerted her to his presence.  Standing, gazing at the beautiful spectacle she made naked in the sun, his knees felt ready to buckle.  That won’t do, he thought, get control and keep it now.  

Her first inclination was to come close.  Oh, but that would be unfair.  Unashamed of her nakedness, she nevertheless reached for her clothing and dressed slowly. 

“Nikita, would you please go easier on my sensibilities?”

“Well, don’t walk in unannounced then Illya.” She purred the rebuke softly.

Then assumed a serious attitude.  “Now, let’s see to you.  Can you stand while I inspect the damages, or would you prefer to lie back down?”

            “Oh no.  That won’t do Nikita.  I can see to my own wounds, or have the monks tend them.”

             “I shall be mortally offended if you adopt that attitude any further Mr. Kuryakin.  Now, lie down and let me dress your wounds.”  Any excuse to get contact, she thought.

            Lightheaded, he acquiesced to this, her second demand in twenty-four hours. 

            She grabbed the bag of unguents the monks had provided, and opened it curiously.  Let’s see, this smells bad enough to be good, she thought mischievously, having opened one of the small jars full of yellow goo.  And here are fresh bandages.  I hope they’re reasonably germ free.  Soap and water.  Too bad the water is all cold.  And finally some soft cloths to use as towels. 

“Relax Illya, I know what I’m doing.”

“I doubt it, but go ahead.”

“No, I’m serious.  I’ve had extensive training on first aid in difficult and unusual places.  Trust me.”

Gently she undressed him.  There was the one huge wrap immobilizing his left shoulder.  No dampness signaling cuts beneath that one.   The left leg sported an expertly applied dressing on the upper thigh.  Bet that one bled alot, she thought.  And there’s one to match on the lower right.  First and second-degree burns along the right side of his chest would bear watching.  Is he in pain?  Oh of course he is, Nikita.  Burns hurt.  And can be most dangerous.  Her protective instincts taking the place of the furnace of desire, she handled his wounds so gently not even a wince was elicited.    

“Let’s see.  You are beautiful, you cook and you have the touch of an angel,” was his comment.  “What aren’t you good at Nikita?”

“Waiting.” 

“I’m known to be a bit impatient myself.”

“We’re going to have get some long term care for you, sir.  The burns could turn nasty quickly.   Are you in much pain.”

“Enough.”

“Is there anything in this bag you recognize that will help with the pain?”  She held the bag up for his inspection.  Then brought the jars and vials out to display the entire contents.

He indicated one small vial, and she opened it and sniffed. 

“Ugh, smells like, uh, cat urine.  Want some?”

“Not yet, my dear.  That’s one potent painkiller.  I know it well.  This isn’t my first time here you know.”

“I rather thought not.  Besides, you said last night that you’d been here before.”

“I did?  I don’t remember much about last night.  Prior to the extortion demands from my lovely companion that is.”

Nikita flushed.

“I didn’t realize you were in such bad shape, Illya.  Otherwise…”

“Nikita, I have to caution you on a few subjects.”

“Hush for a while, Illya.  Time to wash and change linen, and the like.”

Wordlessly she unwound the rest of the bandages and discarded them.  Leaving him covered from the waist to groin she first cleansed the area, then smeared the evil smelling unguent over the open slashes on both legs.  The skin, where it wasn’t abraded was soft, and covered with fine blonde hair.  The skin of the stomach, undamaged except by bruises was baby soft.  She was kissing it before she could think. 

He jumped, cursed and pulled away from the delicious touch, preferring pain, at this juncture to total surrender.  He chose anger as his best defense.

“Nikita!  Damn it, please don’t do that!”

“I’m sorry, Illya.”  And she was, sorry she would have to wait.  She wasn’t much good at this sort of waiting.

So much for the objective Doctor Nikita business, she thought wistfully.

“Let me finish, please.  I’ll be good now.”

 

Fortunately they were done with the ministrations before the evening meal arrived.  Served by monks with kind, smiling eyes and delightful courtesy, the meal was simple yet satisfying.  Following that, the two pilgrims had time to talk.

“Nikita, I shall begin your instruction in the art of shielding tomorrow.  I should have been teaching you much all along.  But the pace never let up enough.  Let’s begin with thought transference.  You have already demonstrated you can send your thoughts to me at will.  Do you understand how you do it?”

“Not really.  It seems I just desired to do so, and it happened.”

“You’re using much more energy doing that than is required.  Let’s practice a bit now.  It is easiest to subvocalize what you wish to send.  Almost say aloud what you’d like me to hear.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now.”

Illya now that I’m not starving anymore I’m burning up again

            (I know I feel the same  you are doing this well, Nikita my middle name is Nickovetch, you may call me Illyusha)

“Illyusha, that’s an endearment, isn’t it?”  She spoke aloud.

 “Very good, Nikita.  You got that perfectly.”  He was immensely pleased.

“May I really call you Illyushka, Illya.”

(only in my mind love, only there, never out loud)

Stunned by the feelings elicited by the tender address, she forgot to continue the exercise. 

“Now, Nikita, let’s continue to practice this method of transference throughout the stay.   In addition, I’ll show you how to construct an appropriate block, to keep all but the most determined intruder out of your head.

“How long can we stay?”

“No, please, ask silently.”

She repeated the question in his head. 

(only three more days they are forbidding this particular area to the regular tourists and worshippers we cannot stay longer) 

more’s the pity

(agreed)

She was a quick study.  What had taken months with April took only two days with Nikita.  Satisfied that she could shield on her own even in direct assault, he vowed to himself that she’d never have to hold off the enemy alone.  He would always be there to help her.  As long as he lived. 

He explained that with the strength of their bond, they could send and receive between them no matter where each one was.  He would never be out of reach.  She would never be alone again, if she didn’t want to be.  As long as both accepted this, there would be no downside.  Next came the subject of strength.  Here he must be totally honest, he thought.  Even though it involves others.  Briefly, he filled her in on his and April’s capabilities.  Their bond was almost as strong as this one, but she didn’t echo his emotions back to him as Nikita did.  Illya waited for a response to this one, but it didn’t come.  Very well, I shall have to demonstrate this later, he thought with some pleasure.  Napoleon Solo had just recently managed, evolved, if you will, to be able to answer Illya anywhere, anytime.  With Mark, well, she’d see the way things went there on her own.  But no one, he stressed, was able to strengthen his own efforts as well as she.   And it should be reciprocal.

For her part, Nikita found the training tiring, and was actually able to sleep through the next two nights. 

The wounds and burns healing nicely, they relaxed and spoke easily with one another on the third day.  The only rough spot was his refusal to clarify to her what exactly it was they had fought against in the otherworld-reality of the blasted place.  Here he stood fast.  Illya hated to not confide in her totally.  He was afraid, in this case, that ignorance would have to stand.  Otherwise, terror might destroy their chance to work together.  He wished he understood less than he did.  He could feel her anger at this refusal, and feel her not so gentle probe of his mind for the withheld information.  She was almost strong enough, almost.  Years of practice and further training would enable her to compartment her thoughts as well as he could.  He upbraided her thoroughly for the attempted brute force intrusion.  She understood that is was wrong to have done so, but refused to apologize.

Finally, as he knew it would, the second question that he was waiting for surfaced.

“Illya, you can hear me when I subvocalize.  Can you read me when I don’t?”

Here it is.  Tread carefully.

“Yes, I could.”

Her reaction was what he expected.

“I said I could, not that I did, or ever have.  No wait, I’m sorry, Nikita.  I have read you without your permission.  On the first day.  When you were there to kill me.  Do you remember that?”  He reached out with the right hand to turn her gently about to face him.  She didn’t resist.  He put his hand under her chin to bring her eyes level with his.  “Do you remember that?” he repeated.

“Of course.  It hurt,… a lot.  And then I lost consciousness.” 

“That’s right, it hurt a lot.  That was a hard, desperate probe you felt.  I had to know right then whether or not to expect violence from you.  Please remember Alexis was there.  What I do when she is threatened is far different from what I do, or can do, when she’s not.  Are you understanding me, young Nikita?”

“Yes.  Have you read me other than that?”

“Let me explain how this has to be.  Between people with abilities such as ours, such indiscriminate breaches of privacy are taboo.  I could have read you anytime.  Anytime at all.  However, I do not and I will never.  Not without your permission.   Please listen Nikita.  This is a sensitive issue.  I will always be able to read your emotions, as you will read mine.  Unless one or the other sets up an unbreachable barrier.  This is why…”  he stopped wondering how to continue.

“Why we excite each other so?”  She asked in a small wondering voice.

“Yes, exactly.  Ah, not that I wouldn’t find you exciting under any circumstances, please note.  But what we have here is something explosive.  Something I’ve contemplated but never experienced fully before.”

“Never?”

“Never like this.”  Without warning he took her in his good arm and pulled her close for a long probing kiss.  Body to body they felt the fire leap up and bounce and echo and expand.  His hand found itself buried in her hair.  Hers reached to his chest, then to his hips pulling him closer still, feeling the hardness between his thighs pressing against her. They found themselves on their knees, breathless, and on the verge of passing out.

Breathing hard, flushed, and so painfully aroused that it was physical agony, he managed to say, “No, never like this.”

After a few minutes, they recovered sufficiently to go on.

“Imagine, Nikita, what would happen if we behaved so outside of the protective barrier of this place.  We would shine like a beacon to those who wish to find us unshielded.”

“Are you trying to tell me we can never do this outside of this place?” she asked, so dismayed it was almost comical.

“No.  But we’ll have to wait until the right space for our needs is fully shielded by a special generator installed in my residence, I’m afraid.”

“How long will that take Illya?”

“Too long to suit me,” he said closing his eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                    ON A HILLSIDE IN WALES

 

Homeward bound, in a small plane piloted by Illya Nickovetch she practiced restraining her passions and at the same time building a barrier against the low headache that was Enfield and cabal, trying to intrude.  Illya looked away from the controls long enough to catch her eye, and nod his understanding; then took her hand in his and added his own strength to her efforts.  The headache vanished.

Piloting one-handed is practically impossible.   Illya instructed Nikita when to reach across to assist.  This necessity, of course, required much body contact, which she gloried in and he found horribly distracting.  The small craft took a few unexpected dips and quick ascents. 

Their third touchdown, on this interminable flight was on the coast of Wales.  Here Illya called a halt for two days, seeking out yet another “safe refuge” for them.  This one was a small house on a rather unremarkable hill in the Welch countryside, about five miles from the coast.  Transportation to the secluded house turned out to be an ancient Vauxhall, beautifully maintained, and huge inside.

“You know, I’ve seen this auto in a magazine, but never actually thought I’d ride in one,” Nikita informed Illya on their drive from the small airport landing strip.  “And, Mr. Kuryakin, this is the second country you’ve taken me to that I’ve never been to before.  This is lovely here.  I feel like I belong here somehow.  My, ah, soul tells me, no asks me why I’ve been away so long.  Curious.”

“Not too many terrorist groups headquartered here,” he offered.  “In fact, very little, ah, action here at all, of any threatening sort.  Usually a place like this would harbor the evildoers of this world.  Someplace quiet like this is generally a very popular living space for the bad guys.  Not here, though.  We go here to rest yet again, Nikita.  It is very like the Buddhist Temple we left yesterday.  Here we are protected.  Umm, not as well as at the Temple, mind you, but where I can, ah, turn myself off, so to speak.  I’m tired, much as I hate to admit it.”

“You have every right to be tired.  We need to redress the burns as well, you know.  How’s the shoulder?”

“Not bad.”

“All right, be macho.  Honestly Illya, I thought we were to be honest about things.”

“I can dampen pain.  It’s one of my talents.  Funny though.  It only works with the big pains.  Little ones drive me straight up the wall.”  He left the explanation short as they came within sight of their destination.

It was a small, one-story place.  Whitewashed and with the traditional thatched roof, the “house” had no proper windows, only shutters.  A large fireplace provided the only heat.  Fortunately he noted that the woodpile had been replenished lately. 

“Rustic.  Who owns this luxury hotel Illya?”

“I do.”

“Oh.  And what special guardian angel looks over this particular spot please?”

“Don’t you know Nikita?  Think of where we are and its history.”

“I don’t really know where we are Illya.  Don’t make me guess.”

“Sorry Nikita, but I ask that you look up this spot when we return to civilization, and try to figure out the answer for yourself.”

One look at his face in profile was enough to let her know that he had every intention of keeping her in the dark.  The small smile played about his lips, signaling amusement; one eyebrow up.  That’s his I’m going to let you figure it out look, she thought.  How very close I feel to him now.  And this place.  I belong here. 

  “Would you be willing to do some manual labor Nikita?  Bring some wood in and start a fire to be specific?”  He pulled the huge car around to the protected side of the house, set the brake and opened his door.

“Of course I shall fetch and carry Illya Love.  Just add it on to your growing debt.” She teased him.

Without further words, they walked to the only door the place sported.  He opened up to reveal the interior.  It was as barren as the hillside surrounding it.  And felt like home to Nikita immediately.  The walls were unfinished, as was the floor.  Bare boards and open timbers.  One table with two chairs in one corner.  One huge bed in the other, closer to the immense fireplace; the kind you could stand up in if you crouched first to enter it.   There was no kitchen to speak of.  Water was obtained through an ancient hand pump.  They had stopped along the way to pick up edible supplies, so Nikita looked about hopefully for cooking utensils and found long handled pots and pans suitable for cooking over such a fireplace as the place offered.  She found oil lamps and candles in her search.  She was enchanted and intrigued.  He’d said he owned this place.  She could see that this was a place for a person to come who required peace and solitude.  What power lay beneath or close here?

Whatever it was had a different feel to it.  The Temple shone brightly, shutting out evil dark.  This small house atop a deserted Welch hillside exuded a comforting, cradling warmth. 

Lost in thought, she wandered out to fetch wood for the fire.  

Illya merely stood close to the cold hearth, silent. 

Nikita brought in the wood, closed the well-fitting shutters against the night’s sudden chill, laid the fire, found the kindling and matches, and soon had a respectful blaze going in the huge enclave.  Without even thinking about what she was doing, she laid out the provisions they’d purchased, cleaned the pots and pans, set water on to boil – and stopped suddenly in the flurry of activity to stare at Illya.

Still standing, not speaking for the good hour plus while she’d bustled about, Illya seemed in a trance.  Then she considered that she too, had entered something of a trance herself, albeit a busy one.

“What is this place?”  She’d spoken quietly, not expecting an answer.

“I am home,” was the only answer.

“Home? But I’d thought Russia was home.  You were born there weren’t you?”

“Yes, and Russia is home.  But this is Home.”

“Illya, please, come sit.”  Nikita was getting a trifle uneasy, almost spooked by his voice and demeanor.  “Coffee or chocolate?”  Please move, please talk, you’re frightening me. 

Illya please talk to me come back to me I’m frightened 

(so good to be here again and with you so much to feel here)

 what’s happening Illya? I feel different

He came back with a wrench to this reality and to her. 

“I’m sorry Nikita, if you were uncomfortable.  It’s just that I’d forgotten how this felt.  It’s marvelous to be back, and I’d not have frightened you for the world.  Relax.  I won’t let any harm come to you.”

Still uneasy, she shivered.  He walked to her and held her against him with the one good arm.  The uneasiness passed with the embrace.  A sense of peace again descended.  Oh, this feels so right, her mind reported, so completely right.  She buried her face in his shoulder and he kissed her forehead.

“Now, lets enjoy the chocolate and the fire.  I’m sorry I can’t be of much help here.”

A mumble of contentment he couldn’t quite make out was her only answer.  So good to be close, her thoughts went.  Stay here, don’t move.   Make love to me here.  Love me. 

“Hungry, Nikita?”

“Mmm hmm.”

He felt the warmth and desire she radiated.  Couldn’t help but feel the depth of desire.  Here?  Now?  No.  Even here we’d be detected and set upon.  But give her something, yes, and yourself too, man.  Give.  As long as I can maintain and not reach the ultimate pleasure, we’ll be fine.  Yes.

As if she’d heard his internal speech (and she had, couldn’t help it) she lifted her head from his chest and looked into his eyes. 

He touched his lips to hers in a gentle exploratory kiss.  Using his tongue to outline the contours of those luscious lips, he drank her in.  She kept still, reading his desire.  

“Undress,” a soft command.  “Lie down.”

She complied slowly, savoring each move, aching with longing.

Control.  He shouted at himself.  Give, don’t take.  If you take anything from her, it’s all over.

So, one further command, soft and insistent.

“Do not touch me Nikita.”

Bending over the long, lean, beautifully muscled but thoroughly feminine form stretched out on the bed (and desperately wishing he could use both hands) he made love to her.     

  Only savage will kept him from going over the edge as she reached her peak of excitement.  Spent and wet with perspiration, she held on to consciousness long enough to pull him up for one last kiss, tasting herself on his lips.  Then she passed out.

 

   He covered her with the quilts that had been stored in the cedar chest at the foot of the bed, then sat by her on the bed stroking the beautiful, peaceful face for an unknowable time.  She came to while he sat there still. 

“Illya I..”

“Shhhh.”

She closed her eyes again.  Took his hand and kissed it, placing it by her cheek when she was done.  He took his hand back and got up to inspect the pot on the fire into which she’d thrown the makings of a stew.  Stirred it. 

“Hungry Nikita?”  They hadn’t paused to eat anything in the past twelve hours.

“Ravenous.”

He started to carry bowls over to the steaming pot.  She got up in a hurry to assist her one-armed bandit.   Naked and glowing, she moved with total grace, the firelight and candles giving her an ethereal beauty.  He’d not have asked her to cover up that beauty for the world. 

            As she started to sit at the small table she realized with a start that she was indeed in the altogether, and took pity on the man and reached for the clothing she’d discarded on the floor.

            “Don’t Nikita, unless you’re cold or uncomfortable.  You are incredibly lovely like you are.”

            “Naked ladies don’t set at table, even with their lovers.”

            “Here then.”  And he got up to fetch a cashmere wrap from the cedar chest. 

            She accepted the offering and slipped into the incredibly soft article.  “Do you wear this, when you’re here alone?”

            “When I sleep, yes.  Tonight though, I’ll sleep fully clothed, thank you very much.”

            “We dare not?”

            “We dare not.”

 

            They shared the massif bed by the fire that she’d fed once more.  She fell into a heavy sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

 

                                    NIKITA IN WALES

 

 

            She awoke sometime later and glanced at her watch.  Three a.m.  The fire had fallen into embers. Then she realized she was in the hut quite alone.  Alarmed, she dressed quickly and went outside.

She stopped transfixed.  All but the summit of the tall hill was covered in a blanket of mist.  The moon had set long ago.  The sky above was clear though, and stars blazed in the dark heavens.  This is a dream, Nikita, you’re dreaming this.  She raised her head and her arms in silent embrace of the night.  As if in answer a huge flash of light interrupted the still sky streaking towards the western horizon. 

She crowed with delight.  I control the heavens!

She felt like singing. 

Appropriate words formed themselves in her mind.  She uttered them in a voice soft, but full of power.  A dream Nikita.   She sang an ancient song in a language she didn’t know.  A dream Nikita.  The earth answered her; it moved just a bit beneath her bare feet.  Just a dream.  The first light of the new day touched the eastern horizon.  She turned toward it, and held her arms out to the light still singing softly.  She sang in the morning.

 

            ***********************************************

 

She woke up at ten o’clock.  Stretching like a cat, she reached over to awaken her companion on this wild jaunt through the world.  He wasn’t anywhere in the room.  Alarmed, she dressed quickly and went outside. 

The mist had burned off (what mist?).  But the temperature remained chilly from the moisture in the air.   

“Illya?” 

“Here Nikita.” 

She hurried around the corner to find him sitting cross-legged on the wet ground on the eastern side of the hut. 

            “Did you get any sleep at all, Illya, or did you spend all night sitting catching cold?  You’re shivering.”  She caught at his right hand.  “You’re freezing.”

            “I rested yes, and I don’t catch cold easily.  By the way, your feet are bare and I am cold.  Let’s go in.”

            Once in, she was in bustle mode once again.  Laying a fire, putting the water on.  Finding breakfast.  Feeling marvelous.  He watched her with a smile, assisting where he could.  Finally sitting before a hot breakfast with strong coffee, he thawed out completely.  It had been a damned cold trip he’d taken, deep into the underground cave below the cliff on the western side of the hill. 

            “I had a lovely dream…” she trailed off.  “I think I was a druid singing to the night and the dawn.  There were shooting stars and quakes of the earth.  The mist covered the world.  Did they have female druids?”

            He smiled at her.  “They did indeed, Nikita.  How else do you think they made little druids?”

            “I’m serious, Illya.  Were there females who performed the rights and magic of the druids, or was it all males?”

            “From what I’ve read, the males performed most of the ceremonies that involved war, sanctification of their meeting places, and protection of the tribe.  The female druids were no less learned in the mysteries, and specialized in medicine, farming and teaching.  You know, the things that really mattered.”  He chuckled.  “If you’re going to dream of being a druid, this would be the perfect place to do so.”

            “I am totally ignorant Illya.  Why?”

            “Because this was one of the last strongholds of the once mighty sect.  Read about it Nikita.  You’ll find it fascinating.”

            “Did they sing a lot?”

            “They were a people who sang.”

            She rose and opened the shutters to let in the now warm morning sun. 

            “Look, I did a good job!”  She stood with her arms resting on the sill for a few minutes.  Then turned to him again, a far away look in her beautiful eyes.  “Could we stay here for awhile Illya?  I would love to stay.”

            “I wish we could stay as long as we wanted.  Unfortunately the world needs us Nikita.  We have to leave tomorrow morning early.”

            “What about your needs Illya?  Can I do for you what you did for me last night?  Or was that a dream too?”

            “No you can’t, and no it wasn’t.”  His throat closed on him.  She started to move in and he waved her away almost brusquely.  “I don’t wish to be rude and offensive Nikita, but please, for my sake, don’t push me until I say its time.”  His hands shook and he hid them. 

            Her face went absolutely still at his words.  ‘Why am I always throwing myself at men who can’t or won’t?’  Michael, Illya, both put her under restrictions about how and why she could ask for and get the affection she craved.  She’d had enough restriction damn it.

            “Kita, you’re thinking out loud.” Illya warned her, voice trembling. 

            “Well at least you didn’t deny that it happened.”  Her voice gaining volume.  “DAMN IT!  DAMN IT!”  Pounding the table twice she ran out the door. 

            Illya sat and waited for a long time.  She finally walked back through the door,  sat down and faced him stonily.  “I’m sorry, Illya, that was uncalled for and unfair.”

            “’s’all right.  Next time just hit me, shout at me, but please don’t walk away like that if you can help it.”

            For some reason this hit home, and settled her emotions.

            “Now, lets talk about something practical.  I need to know what you want to do.”

            “Stay with you.”  A smile.

            “Would you work, earn a salary, get your own place, want to stay where you are, all of the above?  Everything is possible.”  He held up his hand asking for silence.  “You are a very valuable person in many ways Nikita.  I’m glad you want to stay with me.  However, I think it best that we find you a place of your own.  If I read you right, you’re aching to be independent?”

            “Know what Illya, I don’t know anything yet.”

            “May I outline the way I think we should go then?”

            “Please.”

            “OK.  Here I go.  Listen please.  I need you to work with me, personally.  I’d like you to spend some time working with Michael on the Oversight team.  I’d like you to help me train some of the new U.N.C.L.E. personnel in the manner in which you yourself were trained at Section.  I need you, period.  I think you know that.  I want you like I want to draw my next breath.”  He stopped; confused that he’d taken this route that he hadn’t intended.  Oh well.  No wonder, he thought.  I can’t stand the thought of losing her.

            “Stop.  I can’t take this Illya.  You propose too many things at a time.”

            “That’s because I’m afraid (what am I doing?), uh, afraid of your walking away.”   How in hell am I going to repair that one, he though with no little despair.  The frustrations of the past seven years seemed to expand then and threatened to engulf him.  Frustration, fear, memories, grief for his parents, everything balled together suddenly.  His head fell to his fist on the table; his shoulders shook with suppressed sobs.  Tears spilled over his fist and wet the table.

            Nikita sat horrified at the pain, stunned into inaction by the emotions pouring out of him.  Finally she couldn’t stand it anymore.  She went to kneel at his feet.  “Don’t please Illya.  Don’t hurt like this.  I can’t stand it.  I will do anything I can to help you in any way.  Can you tell me anything about what hurts so much?  Please Illya.  I need to know.” 

            He struggled for control, lost it, and she forced him to let her hold him as best she could.  This is not Michael, in any way, shape or form, she thought.  Don’t ever forget again.  He’s far stronger than Michael.  He can cry.  I’ll wait for you, yes, if I must, and I’ll try to chase away the darkness any way I can.

            She knelt by his side until her feet, then her legs went to sleep.  Slowly the tears dried up.  He felt he could face her again.  Plop, she landed on the floor, legs giving way.  Laughter fought its way up his throat.  God, if he gave into that it might turn into hysterics.  He pushed it down, stood up and helped her to her feet.

            “Forgive me, Nikita.  That was unavoidable.  I’ve got to lie down.  Come with me.”

  She hobbled on tingling legs to the bed and flopped without grace unto its soft coverlet.  He followed suit.  Held her close, tucked her head under his, and told her what he must.

            “Everything is…. I am…hurting rather badly.  I’ve just regained a very painful set of childhood memories.  My emotional response to these are those of an eleven year old.  I witnessed both my parents being executed.  The Soviets saw fit to change the normal course of my life by suppressing my musical propensity in favor of my scientific.”

            “The piano?” she mumbled.

            “Exactly.  Then there’re the memories of my disfigurement, and pain from nine years ago.  That’s also fresh in my mind now.  Both thanks to the drugs used in Section One.  I have a job to do and an enemy to face that I’m not at all sure I can handle or face without dying.   Then there’s you.  And I want you so much I hurt, but can’t let go now for fear we’d both be destroyed if I let go completely.  And I know I would if we made love together.  Too damn much pressure for me to handle altogether.  I’ve laughed and cried more in these last four months than in the last nine years, Nikita.  And it’s far from over.  I want to be honest with you.  Things will get worse before they get better.”

            “Then we’ll laugh and cry together,” she said clearly.   “Just let me help when I can, and push me away when you need to.  I understand a lot better now Illya.  I wish you’d told me all this before.”

            He said nothing.  There was no way to tell her he’d never gotten this close to anyone this quickly, felt he could share like this with anyone save Alexander.  He felt suddenly very liberated and very, very tired.

            “Can you sleep now, Love?”

            Her only answer was a soft snore.  She smiled and lay still, holding and touching and drawing in the scent of him to her hearts content until the next morning.

            It was three full days before they reached their final destination.

 

 

 

THE FOREST FOR THE TREES

 

 

                        U.N.C.L.E. HEADQUARTERS NEW YORK

 

            Alexander Waverly, Napoleon Solo, April Dancer and Mark Slate awaited the two travelers in the Command and Control Room.  The hour was late.  Normal operations had ceased for the day.  The corridors were mostly deserted as Illya and Nikita strode toward those famous sliding doors. 

            On the way from Admissions Illya suddenly stopped and darted into a convenient men’s room.  When he emerged the sling securing his left shoulder was gone, stuffed into the waste bin.  He’d also taken the time to run a comb through his now shaggy blond hair, and wash the worst of the travel grime from his face.

            “Is that wise, Illya?”  She referred of course to the missing sling.

            “Better to appear as if I don’t require the ministrations of Dr. Beauchamp.  That way perhaps we can get through the grilling we’re about to receive, I think.  I need some sleep and sustenance more than anything.

            “OK Indiana, let’s get it over with.  Oh, is my appearance adequate, or should I also make repairs?”

            “My dear Nikita, you look smashing, as usual.  Even in those clothes.”  He indicated the tight leather outfit she’d carried or worn throughout the sojourn.  “Well,” he grinned at her, “Maybe I should have said, especially in that outfit.”

            In answer she kissed him lightly.  They continued until they stopped at the weary receptionist’s desk just outside of the entrance to what had been and was now again Alexander’s office.  “Mr. Kuryakin and Miss Dane to see Mr. Waverly,” he uttered the customary but unnecessary words.

            Everyone rose from their seats and advanced toward the two as they started in.  April surprised everyone by throwing her arms about Illya and kissing him squarely on the mouth.  If she could have seen auras, she would have noted the flash of red and emerald in Nikita’s.  Waverly didn’t miss it.  “Welcome the conquering heroes,” she said brightly, and reached for Nikita, who allowed herself to be pulled into the embrace.  Napoleon and Mark satisfied themselves with claps on the back, making Illya wince visibly.  Waverly merely shook Illya’s right hand gently and patted Nikita on her shoulder. 

            “Well done, the both of you.”  Alexander said.  “I trust, Mr. Kuryakin, you were rather glad we saw fit to send Miss Dane close behind you.  We received the report from the Medicopter a week ago.  Ahem, rather thought you’d take a more direct route in return though.”  He pinned the two of them in his gaze.  Interesting, he thought, as both looked down at the floor. And did I detect a blush on the fresh cheeks of the young lady?

“Well, no harm done really.  Please make yourselves comfortable.  Mr. Solo would like to share some thoughts with you.”

            Illya and Nikita seated themselves, side-by-side at Waverly’s right.  Illya looked expectantly at his old friend and partner.  “Napoleon, what words of wisdom have you to share?”

            “Well, I can’t take full credit.  We’ve all analyzed the events involving EWI leading up to your heroic efforts of one week ago.  I must say, I think we’ve all been going about this threat with misguided efforts.  Consider the facts.  You in particular Illya.   What has been the driving factor behind EWI’s efforts?  Their true motivation?

            “You don’t realize do you?” Napoleon looked at his friend levelly. “No you wouldn’t,” he said shaking his head.  “You are the target.  Not this or that headquarters, or your friends or anything else.  It’s you they want and I highly suspect they want you alive.”

            Illya stared hard at his old friend.  Weighed all that had happened in the past three years, and saw that Napoleon, as usual, may have hit the nail on the head. 

            “You’re right Napoleon!  Such a perceptive American!  Why couldn’t I see it?  How long have you known?”

            “Whoa, slow down.  You couldn’t see it because it’s your nature to worry about everybody and everything except yourself.  As for how long I’ve known, I don’t really know.  But I’m willing to bet all on it.  If you look at all their actions, especially in the past few months you’ll note that they’ve put all their efforts into actions specially formatted to draw you out and make you come after them personally.  And they succeeded.  But they didn’t kill you, did they.  Couldn’t they have?”

            “I suppose they could have, maybe.  There were some factors in my favor.  Surprise for one.  I can’t mistake their attention when it’s focused on me.  It wasn’t.  They were looking for me elsewhere.  Then, of course there was Nikita.  She was close.  I can’t know yet that their plan is to take and not kill.  The implications chill me frankly.  The only reason they would want me physically with them is to have me add my brainpower to theirs.  How would they force me to do that, Napoleon?”

            “That’s what we should try to find out, my friend, don’t you agree?”

            Further implications occurred to Illya. 

            “There’s only one way to find out if I am indeed their target.”

            Several voices spoke out at once.

            “Oh no, not again!” this from April.

            “You will not offer yourself as a sacrificial lamb.”  Waverly began.

            “Oh, Illya no!”  Nikita said in a hushed voice.

            He heard Nikita over the rest.  So he took her hand in his, sending in a tight beam for her “ears” alone,  (wait until you understand fully) 

            Aloud to the room, Illya explained,  “I have no intention of offering my physical body at close range again.  If they want me that way, they’ll have to use brute force.  But I can make my presence known psychically, and remain wide open.  Then we’ll see what happens!”

            “Unwise, Mr. Kuryakin.  If you’re wrong, you’re dead.”  Waverly put it bluntly.

            “But you have four more chances, Sir.  The people in this room can bond.  They can grow strong together.  If Napoleon is right, the Cabal will not use their power to kill me anyway.  I’m willing to bet he’s right.”

            Waverly, who knew Illya Nickovetch would do this with or without his consent tried only to delay the inevitable. 

            “Rest first, Mr. Kuryakin, mend yourself thoroughly.  You should remain here in Headquarters until this is accomplished.”

            “With all due respect, Sir, I’d much prefer to go home.”

            Nikita’s head whipped around to Illya with a hopeful expression.  Home? The Welch hillside?

            “Don’t you wish to take advantage of the complete shielding afforded here?”

            “Install the generators at my residence then Sir.  I’d felt that could wait until all major headquarters were done, but now I do make the request for immediate consideration.”

            “We can have them installed within two weeks, Mr. Kuryakin.  I’m afraid the materials are in short supply at the moment.  Deuced expensive as you well know.”

            “Very well.  I thank you for your council.”

            Waverly and Kuryakin both stood up.  Napoleon knew this was a standoff of two iron wills.  He hoped Waverly would prevail.

            “I would ask you once more Illya Nickovetch to wait for this confrontation.”

            “I understand Sir.”  And he walked out.

            “Excuse me, Sir, if I may also go?”  Nikita was well aware that a second unexcused exit would be unthinkable.

            “By all means Miss Dane.”

 

                        ********************************************

           

            She caught up with him in the deserted corridor leading to the private suites.  Trying for complete calm she said, “You will wait, won’t you?  Or failing that you will let me share the risk?”

            His eyes and mind were closed to her.  He looked vacantly at her, not registering anything.

            “We could take advantage of those generators at least, in your home I mean.  Couldn’t we?  Illya?  Please?”

            “Not now Nikita.”  Said in an emotionless voice so unlike his usual.

            She hit him; a right cross to the chin. 

            He could have prevented the hit.  He’d seen it coming.  Instead he rolled with the punch, avoiding being knocked on his behind by the force of it.  What a powerful throw, he noted with pride.  She’d have laid me out cold if I hadn’t gone with that one.

            “Oh God, I’m sorry Illya.”  She was mortified.  Her action had been without thought, straight from the heart, hearing those hated three words from him.  Her hands covered her face and she slid down the wall to a crouch.  A ball of regret.

            He knelt down beside her to try to take her hands in his.  She wrested them away and sat stunned, the beginnings of tears rolling out the corners of her eyes.

            “Nikita, please, didn’t I say just the other day that I’d rather you hit me than walk away?  No harm done, Sweet One.  Are you angry with me?”

            “Yes. No.  God I don’t know.”

            “Would you come with me to a more private spot where we can talk?”  Again he laid his hands upon hers, gently urging her to comply.

            Wordlessly she let him help her up.  She followed him into the quarters. 

            Closing the door firmly, he turned to her and said, “That was a powerful hit Nikita.  You must be formidable in close combat.”

            “Why didn’t you stop me?”

            “I thought you needed that one.  Next time though, you won’t find me such an easy target.”

            “Next time?  There won’t be a next time, Illya.”  She reached out to touch the angry red patch on his chin that would blossom into a respectable bruise within the hour.

            He caught her hand and kissed the palm. 

            “It was those three words you said.”

            ??

            “’Not now Nikita.’  I got those exact words all the time from everyone at Section, and it drove me crazy.”

            “I’ll have to remember that,” he said with laughter in his voice.  “Are you feeling any better yet?  Care to continue what we were saying before we were interrupted?”

            “About the shielding?  Yes.”

            He found her returning enthusiasm unutterably endearing.  What a woman she was.  Strong, passionate, hungry, and so capable in so many ways.  “Two weeks, Nikita.  It will be a long two weeks, but then I think we can make up for it, and so much else in a very short time.”  His eyes danced, his smile played.  She caught a glimpse of something extraordinary surrounding him.  Some shimmering colors briefly came into view around his entire being.  They seemed to reach out to her, bathing her in a warm glow.  Then they disappeared entirely.

            He seemed to notice nothing amiss. 

            “There is a lot to do in the following days.  Are you willing to begin all those things we discussed briefly, uh, at Home?”

            She could hear the capital letter he assigned the simple word. 

            “I think I can do that if you promise me you’ll wait and not play the lamb, as Alexander said, until we have a chance to relax.”

            “Gods, you two drive a hard bargain.”  A pause, while he considered giving his word.  Then, “Yes, all right, I’ll wait.  I promise.”

           

              **************************************************

 

            Back in the Command and Control Room, the remaining four discussed the outcome of the confrontation.  For that’s what it had become, rather than the conclave they’d hoped for. 

            Waverly precluded even Mark’s prepared quip with a sobering; “It’s understandable.  He’s under considerable pressure from many quarters.”

            Mark couldn’t resist.  “I’d say so.  Not the least of which is coming from that blonde hellion who walked in with him.” 

            “Mr. Slate, really!”  Waverly’s eyebrows went up and he bent a disapproving glare at the oft-flippant Slate.

            Unabashed Slate managed to slip one more in.  Directed at Solo.  “I’d say your former partner has found himself a new running mate, Mate.”

            “Mark, please!”  April found herself upset beyond all reason.  Napoleon laid a comforting and restraining hand on her arm.

            “Let’s address something besides personal matters shall we?”  They all knew this voice.  The voice of absolute disapproval and upbraiding.  “Gentlemen, and Miss Dancer, that could have gone better.  However, given the nature of the problems we now face, emotions do tend to run high.  We all must learn to stand together here, or we will fail.  Mr. Kuryakin was right on that account.  The four of you must learn to pool your resources.  If we are to make an assault or merely to stand, we must put aside all former differences.”  Here he glanced at April Dancer meaningfully.  “And conduct ourselves as a team.  Ah, much as our current archenemy does.  Let’s take the two weeks we have in which to form this bond and make the most of them.  Now goodnight.  Get some rest.  You begin in the morning.”

            “And if the illustrious Mr. Kuryakin goes off on his own once again?”

            “All the more reason to, I suppose, Mr. Slate.  Now good evening,”

 

                        *********************************************
 

            One of the hardest things Nikita had to go through happened shortly after she and Illya said goodnight and went to their respective rooms.  They were suddenly physically separated, for the first time in a week.  He’d been in the temple with her, in the planes and cars with her, in the hut on the Welch hillside….  And now a door separated them.  She couldn’t believe the emotions churning in her insides at this simple fact.  This is ridiculous, she told herself.  You’re behaving and feeling like a child.

            Illya felt much like a child himself that night.  Albeit a very sexually frustrated one.  The urge to go to her was almost unbearable.  If he did, the inevitable would indeed happen.  And if the inevitable happened here, everyone within this shielding umbrella, which now covered the Command and Control Room plus the sleeping quarters would be subjected to the same physical/emotional joy ride that he would.  Unthinkable, really Illya, get yourself under control. 

            It didn’t exactly work.  No one got any sleep that night as the two lay apart but together in their minds and hearts desires. 

            The next morning, a strange mood prevailed over the personnel who’d spent the night in their quarters, and everyone who came within sighting distance of the two frustrated lovers.  Miss April Dancer knew exactly what was destroying her normally staid aplomb.  She confronted the source at the first opportunity. 

            Walking into Illya’s suit, she found him sitting at the computer console trying to concentrate on the day’s business.  Once in the room, the miasma of desire was really too much.  But she took a deep breath and strode into the wake.

            “Good Morning Illya.”  Another deep breath.

            “April!  To what do I owe the honor of this unprecedented visit?” 

            “I think you know, Love.  Can’t you turn it off or down or something?”

            “Hmmm?”  Distracted by the new display coming up on his screen, and indeed so used to the state he was in it hardly registered this morning, Illya was honestly puzzled.

             April found herself in a very uncomfortable position.  She’d have to spell it out, she guessed.  Damn it, not even her mind’s shield could block this one out.  She reached out to make bodily contact, shivering as she did.

            “Tone down the desire, Illya.  You’re putting me through a wringer I can do without.  I was once used to this, now it’s driving me crazy.” 

            The reference to their former relationship hurt in places he’d hoped had begun to heal after a year and a half.    He shook his head sadly.

            “There’s very little I can do to help this April.  I’m sorry.  Try harder to block me out can’t you?”

            “I’m trying just as hard as I can, you beast.  Now DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS FOR GOD’S SAKE BEFORE WE ALL GO COMPLETELY CRAZY!!”  Yelling at the top of her voice, April made quite a spectacle.  Illya knew this would make it all the harder for her to forgive him this unintended intrusion.

            Instead of the calmness he’d hoped to influence her with he lost control himself.

            “What would you have me do April?  I can’t leave this place.  I’ve given my word.  I can’t satisfy my desires.  Good God can you imagine how impossible this is for me?  I wish the world would go away and give me some peace.  I wish you would…”

            She ran out the door, unable to take the towering impatience and anger along with the fierce sexual pull assaulting her. 

He put his head in his hands, and hoped they’d all come through with sanity intact.

 

 

Later that morning, unable to ignore the sturm und drang prevailing in the normally carefully controlled environment, Alexander Waverly felt he must get to the bottom of this extraordinary general madness that had taken over the headquarters.  Unerringly following the font of trouble, he knocked at Kuryakin’s door.

            Illya, who’d been visited by all four of the people he most wished to avoid this day of all days, groaned aloud when he opened the door and found his Chief requesting admission.

            Alexander took one look at the gaunt face, the dark smudges under the eyes that burned with weariness and frustration, and Illya’s generally tense posture, and knew he’d indeed have to be circumspect this morning. 

            “Mr. Kuryakin, it appears you are not getting the rest that you need here.  Is there anything at all that can be done to ease whatever tensions you’re under?”

            “Sir, I…need to get the…. HELL OUT OF HERE!” he yelled without restraint. 

I’m an insect pinned to the goddamned wall for all to inspect at their leisure.  I cannot stand this!  I can fight the enemy I can see, but this enemy is myself and all of you to boot.  I need some PEACE AND QUIET AND I NEED IT NOW!”

            Calm in the face of this storm, Alexander said quietly, “What do you suggest, then?”

            “Let me go,” he growled with more menace than was proper.

            “Where, Mr. Kuryakin?  Where is it you can find what you need?”

            “Home.”  Quiet whisper.

            Alarmed more by this quiet than the shouting that preceded it; Alexander stepped back some from the fury.

            “Impossible at this juncture, Mr. Kuryakin.  I am dreadfully sorry about this.  Now wait.  I believe I understand the problem, in my old-fashioned way.  Let me take the opportunity to offer you my own suite, which is entirely cut off from all manner of, er, radiation, ah, as it were, even from these adjoining suites.”

            Suddenly deflated, Illya dropped into his swivel chair in front of the console. 

            “Look, Alexander, I am heartily sorry for losing my temper in your presence.  I am grateful for your generous offer, Sir.  And…”

            “And, Illya Nickovetch, you will take advantage of it.  That’s an order!”

            The expression on Illya’s face was comical in the extreme.  Unsure whether to laugh or cry, he sprang out of his chair, muttering darkly in Russian.

            “Go there now, Illya.  No more discussions or outbursts will be tolerated.”  Alexander turned to go.  “And take that extraordinary young lady with you.”   

He closed the door on Illya’s openmouthed stare.

 

                        *******************************************

 

 

            Some masochistic and extremely stubborn streak prevented Illya from doing exactly as Mr. Alexander Waverly had commanded.  He went into the total seclusion of the proffered suite, but went alone.  He stayed there for three full days and nights before rejoining the world.  Alexander noted the lack of compliance, but was unable to bring himself to confront Illya with it. 

            Feeling uncomfortable in the extreme, he instead chose to see Miss Dane.  She had also not ventured outside the world of her private room except to take in occasional food sent up from the commissary.  She had sat, almost unmoving throughout the last three days, wondering just when this would all end.   Alexander’s visit to Nikita took a far different bent than that of his with the truculent Mr. Kuryakin. 

            “Mr. Waverly I need to confide in you Sir,” she began when he’d been properly seated.  “I’m at my wits end.  Mr. Rasheed gave me a basic rule to follow when dealing with Illya Kuryakin, but I’ve got to speak to someone, and I hope you’re the right choice.”

            “Miss Dane, there is no one more suited than myself to hear anything you might need to spill out.  Please be reassured on this account.  I will not break your confidence if you entreat me to keep it.”

            “I do so, Sir.  Tea?  It’s fairly fresh.” 

            “Thank you my Dear.  Tea would suit.  Do you mind if I indulge?”  Alexander brought out his beloved briar pipe and a small pouch of his favorite blend. 

            “Be my guest, Sir.”  She brought out the ashtray stored in the cupboard, and searched unnecessarily for matches or lighter.  The pungent scent of his lit pipe brought her out of her reverie.  Time to tell, she thought.  What will come out, I wonder.

            “All right, Sir.  I am a bit confused by the current happenings these last three days.  I haven’t been out at all, and I can’t tell if Illya, uh, I mean, Mr. Kuryakin is still on the premises.”

            “Please dispense with formalities of address Miss Dane.  Say what’s on your mind.”

            “I don’t know if what I have to say will make any sense or offend you in any way.  But I ….  Well, so much has happened between Illya and myself, Alexander.  I feel as if I am torn apart, when he’s not with me.  I feel that he needs me the same way.  Frankly, I think that if I don’t do something quickly, our situation will deteriorate beyond repair.  He’s shown me so much these past few months, Sir.  Wonders and powers I had no idea existed in this world.  Yet, I know, whatever must be done, must be done by the two of us, not by him alone.  I just…”

            “If I may interrupt please.  You are entirely correct in the assumption that Illya needs you.  Just now, he’s a live wire without hope of grounding anywhere but with you.  You must provide the stability without which our situation will indeed be lost.  Now, let’s stop tap dancing around the issue.  He is in my private suite now.  Go to him.  Stay there until balance is achieved.  That would be my advice to you.  Be firm in your resolve, young lady.”

            “Ummm, very nicely put, Sir.  I shall be firm.  Thank you.”  She came up to Alexander and kissed him sweetly, briefly on his lips.  He was extremely pleased with her at that moment, and knew he could forgive her anything, just as he’d always with Illya Nickovetch.  The door closed softly behind her. 

 

                                    *********************************** 

 

 

END EPISODE THREE, PART II