Prompt: Flashback

Summary: A THRUSH onslaught brings back memories of Illya’s war-torn childhood that he’d rather forget.

Cross-posted to AO3

Illya gripped Napoleon’s arm, cringing as the sounds of
explosions continued to echo overhead.
THRUSH had caught up with them, and promptly attacked with nothing less
than rocket launchers.  The nearest
“safehouse” wasn’t very safe after THRUSH opened fire with those, and the duo
were now seeking shelter in the cellar as the place began to crumble around
them.

“Illya?” Napoleon asked, realizing that his partner’s
usually calm resolve had given way to trembling.  Illya usually didn’t lose his cool like this,
even in dire situations—they’d been through far worse, after all.  Something about this situation was affecting
him very deeply, and Napoleon could only hope that it wouldn’t be too much.

He drew an arm around Illya, and Illya’s grip tightened.

“What is it?” Napoleon asked, as there finally appeared to
be a break in the THRUSH onslaught.

“…I was just remembering the night my home in Kiev had been
attacked, when I was a boy,” Illya said.
“It began like this, incessant attacks on houses, with no regard for
civilians who might be inside.  There was
a gap like this, too—a gap in the fire…
That was when my mother told me to run, and I did.”

Napoleon’s heart gave a twist.

“I hid where I could, also in houses that eventually came
down.  I usually hid with other
children—war children, as we would later be known.”  He sighed.
“We didn’t dare to seek help from adults; our families were gone, and
we’d heard about people disappearing, and we didn’t know which ones were behind
it, or who they were looking for.”

“I’m sorry,” Napoleon said, quietly.

Illya gave a shuddering nod.

“It was absolutely terrifying when I was a child,” he
said.  “But I don’t know what’s worse—the
terror I felt then, or growing up and finding out the truth about the missing
people—that they were massacred because of who they were, no other reason than
that…”

He trailed off, cringing as the THRUSH rockets resumed
flying, but then he scowled.  There were
THRUSHies coming closer, as though waiting to nab them the moment they
succeeded in flushing the U.N.C.L.E. agents out.

“And that is why we cannot let them win—for they will do
the same.  Napoleon, do you have the rest
of that wine we had at lunch?”

Napoleon’s eyes widened.

“…Yes,” he said, grabbing the bottle.  He soaked a handkerchief with some of it and
slipped the handkerchief in as a fuse.

Illya waited for the THRUSHies to approach closer before
igniting the handkerchief and hurling it at their pursuers.  The THRUSHies fled upon seeing that they were
being attacked by a makeshift weapon; it wasn’t until there was complete and
utter silence for an extended period of time that the two partners emerged from
the trapdoor, relived at having made it.

“They’ll be back with reinforcements,” Napoleon said.  “I’d like to be out of here when they do.”

“Me too,” Illya said, and, once again suppressing the ghosts
of his past, he ran alongside his partner, who still had a hand on his wrist as
they ran, silently reassuring him that they would get through this together.

Prompt: Withdrawal

Summary: Staying on the wagon is difficult enough without temptation aiming to sabotage accomplishments thus far.

Cross-posted to AO3

It wasn’t often that Napoleon and Illya got a weekend off;
sometimes, trying to figure out what to do with their time was a
challenge.  The duo eventually decided to
go out to eat, enjoying a full-course meal.

Illya was on his third dessert when the two were surprised
by someone calling Napoleon’s name.  It
was another old acquaintance of Napoleon who hadn’t seen him in a while.  Napoleon awkwardly said hello, not having
planned on their evening out being interrupted.
Illya was just relieved that the old friend had no reaction to Illya’s
name, like some of Napoleon’s old acquaintances had in the past when realizing
that he was a Russian.

“I have to get running soon,” the old acquaintance
said.  “Didn’t mean to interrupt you
two—but I just had to say hello to my old buddy!”

“That’s alright,” Napoleon said, managing a slightly forced
smile.  “It was good to see you again
after all this time.”

Illya bit back a smirk; Napoleon was a great liar when he
needed to be.

“Oh, and here…” the friend added, opening a cigarette case
in front of Napoleon.  “One of my imported
blends—you always used to love these, remember?
You said they were your favorite!
Just smell it!”

Napoleon blinked, staring at the cigarettes and then
sniffing the one that was held under his nose, and Illya paled slightly.  This was the worst possible timing for this,
seeing that Napoleon had been trying to quit smoking cold turkey a few weeks
ago—the first days had been the hardest, but Napoleon had gone for almost four weeks
without a cigarette.  And now this shadow
from the past was offering the ultimate temptation—and judging by the look on
Napoleon’s face, he was weakening.

“Napoleon…” Illya began, but he trailed off.  He knew how powerful the cravings of
withdrawal could be—and Napoleon had made it four weeks.  He couldn’t ask him to do any ore when
temptation was quite literally right under his nose.

Illya sighed.  Well,
they’d just have to start from square one this weekend—assuming Napoleon didn’t
decide to stay off the wagon completely–and who could blame him?  Illya had helped him through the worst days
in the beginning—the cramps, the insomnia, the headaches, the upset stomach…
all things that had nearly caused Napoleon to abandon the whole thing.  Illya had resolved that while he would refuse
to hand Napoleon a cigarette personally, he would not stop him from getting
them if he felt that he could no longer hold out.

He had, also, resolved to encourage his partner not to give
up, and after much wheedling and coaxing, they had made it this far…  Only for this to happen now.

Illya exhaled, mentally preparing another round of this; he
could only hope that, this time, Napoleon would be able to go for longer–

“Actually, I’m fine,” Napoleon suddenly said.  “But thanks for offering.”

The old acquaintance blinked, surprised; clearly, Napoleon
had never refused a cigarette from him before.
He then shrugged.

“Well, if you’re sure…. Your loss…” he said, and he headed
on his way.  “See you around, Solo!”

Napoleon gave him a half-hearted wave and looked back to
Illya with a sigh and look of relief.

“Well, that was close,” he said.

“You aren’t kidding,” Illya said, wiping sweat from his own
brow.  “I didn’t think you’d be able to
hold out.”

“…Honestly, neither did I,” Napoleon admitted.  “Especially when I smelled that imported
blend and remembered how much I always enjoyed those.  But I got to thinking about something you
said when we started this whole thing—that I was able to resist all forms of
THRUSH mind control, and that was how you knew I had this in me.  So, I just… tapped into that.

“Well, I am very glad you did,” Illya said, with a
smile.  “The war isn’t over yet, but you
won a very important battle.”  He raised
his glass.  “To your victory.”

Napoleon smiled and brought his glass to Illya’s.

“Well… I’ve got a great ally on my side,” he reminded
him.  “…Thanks, Illya.”

“Of course, Napoleon.”

Illya was more than happy to help.