Another MFU blurb

Written for today’s short affair prompt at Section VII

Summary:
In which Napoleon and Illya discover that a seemingly odd choice of target for THRUSH may be far more serious than they imagined.

Notes:
There are two versions of this piece.  This is the light slash
version.  There is a gen version on my
dreamwidth if you’d prefer reading that.
The two blurbs are around 95% similar.

Not cross-posting this as I’ll be expanding this in the future.

Napoleon wrinkled his nose at the smell of old paper as
they entered the old U.N.C.L.E. warehouse.

“So this is where they keep the old personnel files,” he said,
looking around at the rows and rows of files.
Aside from a few support pillars, there was literally nothing else but
filing cabinets as far as the eye could see.
“An old facility out in the middle of the desert?”

“So it would seem,” Illya said.  “But, perhaps there are more than just old
files in here—there have been reports of THRUSH attempting to break in.”

“That’s right—and that’s why we’re here,” Napoleon
said.  “To find out what they could
possibly want.”

“It couldn’t possibly be any of the old files,” Illya
said.  “Unless they were trying to seek
revenge on agents who retired or resigned…”

“Wouldn’t Victor Marton’s file be in here?” Napoleon
said.  “Since he’s no longer an active
U.N.C.L.E. agent and one of them now…?”

“An awful lot of trouble for a file of someone they could
easily grab ahold of and question themselves,” Illya said.  “You know how readily they turn on each
other—torture would be the quickest way for them to find out information from
Marton than rooting through old files that don’t even cover the last decade anyway.”

“…Good point,” Napoleon admitted.

“That’s why I think that these old files are just
camouflage,” Illya said.  “THRUSH clearly
thinks so, as well—they have made several failed attempts to break in, but the
electronic defenses have always succeeded in repelling them.”

Napoleon frowned.

“If they are going to try again, then I think we should be
prepared for an attempt at sabotaging the electronic defenses,” he said.  “And the quickest way to do that is cut off
the power to the entire building–”

He was cut off as the lights in the warehouse suddenly shut
down, plunging the entire interior into inky blackness.

“…I just had to
say it, didn’t I…?” Napoleon groaned.

Illya quickly activated the distress signal on his tracker
as he and Napoleon knelt down behind some filing cabinets.

“Backup is coming, but this is an out-of-the-way location;
it may take them time to reach us,” he whispered.

“Then we’ll have to rely on our one possible advantage—that
the intruders getting past the security system don’t know that we’re here,”
Napoleon whispered back.  “We have to
find whatever it is they’re looking for first!”

“…It would help if we knew what we were looking for,” Illya
murmured.  “What do you think it could
be?”

“Can’t be weapons—it better not be,” Napoleon said.
“U.N.C.L.E. protocol is to completely and thoroughly destroy confiscated
weapons and doomsday devices after they are no longer considered evidence—this
is done to prevent THRUSH trying to steal them back.”

“But… what if it was a weapon that cannot be destroyed, no
matter how hard we tried?” Illya.

Napoleon frowned.

“The only kind of weapon like that I can think of is…”  A sinking feeling grew in the pit of his
stomach.  “Oh no.  Oh no.”

Illya gripped Napoleon’s hand.

“You’ve found the answer?” Illya realized.  “And it isn’t good.”

“Yes and no, it isn’t,” Napoleon said.  “They are
looking for files, Illya.”

“…Of agents from decades past?  How is that bad–?”

“You mentioned weapons that can’t be destroyed, and that’s
when I remembered, during our Medical training in Survival School…  They told us about reporting signs of illness
immediately because of a case back in 1918—a group of U.N.C.L.E. agents on
assignment in Greenland had ignored symptoms that ended up being that of Spanish
flu–”

Illya gripped Napoleon’s hand tighter.

“I remember now,” he said, shuddering.  “The survivors suffered in agony, and the
ones who had died had to be buried in Greenland.”

“You’re the pathology expert,” Napoleon whispered.  “The ground is pretty frozen up there—would
bodies at that temperature still hold samples of the virus that could be
activated if warmed up?”

“…It’s… possible,” Illya said.  “The exact answer, I don’t know…. It’s
something too horrific to think about…!”

“That’s why they’re here,” Napoleon said, trying to see if
he could spot the intruders.  “They want
those files about the agents who died in Greenland in 1918 to get the exact
burial locations!”

“And if they unleash a global pandemic on the scale of the
one in 1918…” Illya began.  “The only
word to describe it would be…”

“…Devastation,” Napoleon finished.

Rows upon rows of filing cabinets, and one of them held the
potential of global disaster within it.

And only the two of them stood between it and THRUSH.

Suddenly, Illya reached up, touching Napoleon’s face and
then drew him into a kiss.  So much was
said in that kiss—how much he loved him, and how worried he was for him now
that this plot was into the light.

Combatting THRUSH
and their weaponry is something within our power, he silently transmitted.
But against a deadly virus, we are
helpless.

Then we have to
stop them, Napoleon transmitted back.

The kiss deepened.

…I don’t want to
lose you, Napoleon.

And I don’t want
to lose you, either.  So…  We’ve… We’ve got to keep fighting against
this.

The temptation to quit was strong—to quit this and flee to
a safe, secluded region of the world, staying like this, in each other’s arms,
reassuring the other of how much he loved his partner…

Illya sighed as Napoleon’s arms invited him to sink further
into his embrace.  He wanted to stay like
this, forever.  And judging by how
Napoleon was gently caressing his face, he wanted it, too.

But, in order to ensure this would last, they would both
have to fight.

Reluctantly, Illya pulled away from the kiss before it
could escalate further.

“Da…” he whispered.
“Let’s try and put a stop to this.”

Napoleon nodded, but he still held on to Illya’s arm as
they snuck around the rows of cabinets.

They would fight this together, as they always did.