Missing scene from:
THE QUADRIPARTITE AFFAIR
THERE BE MONSTERS HERE
Hunched in the corner, Illya
Kuryakin shivered. And whimpered.
And Napoleon Solo watched with an inner, fearful quaking of his own. Both of
them were reacting to recent events with subdued terror -- Illya's
induced by some cruel, insidious drug. Solo's motivated by a secondary reaction
to finding his friend cowering -- terrified. Fearful of him!
He knew he would find disaster -- murder --
something -- at the apartment of the girl they were protecting. Napoleon Solo
had not expected the tragedy that met him: the forlorn, whimpering, shaking
form of his partner huddling in a corner of the living room. Shocked, it took a
few moments for Solo to galvanize into action. Holstering his drawn Walther, he
slowly crouched to study the Russian. Then he approached slowly, carefully. His
presence seemed to terrify the younger blond.
Napoleon had taken necessary steps; called
for back up, searched the apartment, looked for the girl. At least he thought
he did all those things. Crouching a few feet away from his friend he wasn't
sure what he had done exactly. All he could remember was entering the
apartment, expecting to find Illya guarding Marion.
Instead he had seen the most frightening sight of his life. His partner reduced
to a quivering mass of helplessness.
Each time he approached his friend Kuryakin pressed closer into the corner, trying to evade
him. Intellectually, Solo knew it was the drug. Illya
was not really afraid of him. Not really. In the haze of hallucination, yes, he
was, but that wasn't real. So Napoleon would ignore the moans of weakened
fright and try to handle this with some kind of objectivity.
How could he break through? If this was
anyone else, how would he handle it, he pondered as he bit his lip while
studying his friend. Every time he got close Illya
got worse. The logical notion would be for him to just leave the poor Russian
alone until the guys from the UNCLE medical unit arrived. But he could not sit
by and watch his partner suffer -- allow himself to
suffer -- in silence. He HAD to do -- something!
"Illya." It was a soft whisper, a quivering sigh barely
louder than the pounding of his rattling heart. "Illya,
talk to me. What happened? You were --"
Kuryakin whimpered again and sent a crack straight through
Solo's heart. He gulped down the question that was completely nonsensical to
someone who's mind was filled with horror. He was
sounding like one of the psyche guys they hated. That was no way to reach his
friend and overcome the fear. Okay, time to back-up. Forget the objectivity.
Reaching Illya had to come from his heart. They were
partners. When all was said and done they worked together, in tandem, in unity.
Illya would never fear him. Then why did this
incident terrify him to the core? Why would he ever be afraid of Napoleon?
Edging as close as possible without scaring
the blond further, Solo started talking. Quiet, disjointed words at first. Then a few whispered
sentences. What they had done last week, what they planned the next time they
were in London, when they would have time to try the new deli around the corner
from headquarters.
"Did you hear Ellen in Section Three
rejected me?" he asked rhetorically, inching a bit closer. He was within
touching distance now. Should he risk contact? "Did you ever meet
her?"
He pressed two fingers onto the Russian's
shaking arm. Illya cried out and flinched away. Solo
moved closer and placed a gentle palm onto the sleeve. "Illya, it's me. There is nothing to fear."
The blue eyes were wild, but for the first
time he directed them at him, solidly locking onto his. "Mmmm . . . ." Shivers quaked
the thin body.
Solo carefully moved his hand up and around
to the back of Kuryakin's neck. The look on the pale
face was tragic, tears pooling in the eyes.
Napoleon gulped. "What?" he
croaked.
"Mmmonsters."
Sure he was trembling as much as his
partner, Solo managed not to close his eyes in anguish, but steadily stared at
his friend with what he hoped was compassionate understanding.
"There are monsters?" His voice
cracked, and he tried again. This time he tried to instill confidence, offer
the strength that his friend so desperately needed. "There are no
monsters," he whispered. "I'll make them stay away."
Illya's eyes widened, then closed.
He shook his head so vigorously blond bangs flew into his eyes. "Monsters."
"Illya,"
Napoleon called again, this time firmly, solidly. "There are no monsters
here. Trust me."
With curled fingers, Illya
rapped his knuckles on his head. "Monsters.
Here." With a shivering hand he tapped Solo's fingers. “You -- take --
monsters . . . ."
This wasn't working. He was only offering
words against imagined visions of demons. So what could he possibly do? Make
sure Illya believed in him more than the spectres wafting around in his mind. "Open your eyes
and look at me."
Illya stubbornly shook his head.
"I promise there are no more monsters
here. Trust me, tovarich."
The blue eyes blinked open. Squinting, Kuryakin cast a wary, quick glance at Solo. The gaze was
fleeting and frightened, like a cornered rabbit, but with a gulp of a breath he
steadied himself and kept his eyes on Solo. As if he was afraid to look
anywhere else, but at his partner.
Trying to ignore the tears burning his eyes,
Solo took a breath and offered a smile he hoped was strong. He tried to inject
all the confidence he could into his tone and expression. "They're going
to go away now, old friend." He pressed a palm over Kuryakin's
eyes. When he drew it away Kuryakin was staring at
his fist. He opened his palm and fluttered his fingers, as if setting something
free. "No more. No more monsters. I promise."
Nodding, Illya
allowed the weight of his head to lean on Solo's hand.
"No more monsters," Solo whispered
tightly. "Not today, anyway, tovarich."
THE END