[March 4th] [The Man From U.N.C.L.E.] Limbo

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Title: Limbo
Day/Theme: March 4th - Perfection is not human.
Series: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (specifically, The Odd Man Affair episode)
Character/Pairing: Mr. Ecks, Mr. Wye
Rating: K+/PG


By Lucky_Ladybug

Ecks really knew very little after he faded out of consciousness while Wye was trying to help him. He heard vague things through the mists clouding his senses—Wye cursing the traffic, horns honking, Wye arguing with a receptionist over the fact that he was not going to fill out any ruddy admission papers until they did something about his chum bleeding everywhere.

Ecks smirked slightly at the latter, somewhere in his mind. Wye was a good public speaker and probably would have been a good lawyer, the way he could take a basic idea and twist it around several times and dress it up and say the same basic thing over and over while keeping a captive audience. And he was angry now; he certainly wasn’t going to stand by and let anything interfere with giving Ecks a chance for life, now that he knew there was still hope for that.

Not that the hope was very strong; Ecks could hear the doctors saying something about how far gone he was and how much blood he’d lost and how serious wounds in the stomach were. He faded deeper into unconsciousness for a while, as if in resigned response to that assessment. All voices left his knowledge.

It seemed that at one point he started to revive on the operating table, at least enough to know that he was there. He felt a renewed burst of pain, gasped in anguish, and was gone again.

Was he just unconscious or was he dead this time? He really wasn’t sure. If he was dead, he would probably go to Hell—if afterlives existed at all—but this certainly didn’t seem to be anything like the Hells they told about in Sunday Schools. This was just nothing. Mist and darkness and floating endlessly through both.

“Darling? Hello, Darling.”

He looked up, bewildered, as Vivalene floated out of the mist, placed her hands on his cheeks in mid-air, and kissed him soundly on the lips. Then, laughing, she leaped back and was allowing herself to vanish into the mist, her pale-blue butterfly sleeves twirling in the breeze.

Vivalene. . . .

He still didn’t know what to make of her. She wasn’t an agent for any side, but simply a mercenary out for herself. Ecks and Wye had run into her on several cases, and though she had tried to flirt with both of them, she had decided to focus more on Ecks since she seemed to have better luck with him. He knew she didn’t really care about him or anyone else, and he knew she was bad news, and he knew Wye was right to put her down . . . but some part of him was still morbidly fascinated by her. His professionalism kept him from following through, but still, he couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to be in a relationship with her.

Probably fun at first, but not for long, if all the stories Wye had dug up about her were true. From all of his research, she was the worst kind of femme fatale and went after any man she could. Age was no object; she had tried to worm her way into the hearts of teenage boys, men her own age, and men much older than she. She had also most disturbingly left a trail of wounded and even dead bodies in her wake—some, people she had been dating whom she had no further use for, and some others, people who had seen through her and had tried to stop her from going after their loved ones. Definitely not someone Ecks needed in his life. He didn’t want to end up a victim, and he certainly didn’t want to see Wye become one.

He groaned somewhere in his mind. The pain was coming back to him, filling every part of his senses. Something was beeping very quickly and the doctors were yelling to each other and to the nurses.

So he was still alive for now, but it sounded like he was on his way out. That wasn’t the greatest news he could have had.

You really did a number on me, mysterious spy. If I could live, I’d find out more about you. I like to know who my enemies are. I guess . . . I won’t get the chance for that.

I won’t get the chance for a lot of things.

Wye. . . .

At the same moment the beeping settled into an endless note, Wye was suddenly there.

“Ecks? What on Earth are you doing here?!”

“You can’t be real,” Ecks objected. “This is all in my head.”

“I doubt that. I’m dead, Ecks. So you must be dead too.” Wye cursed. “You didn’t make it.”

“I will make it!” Ecks retorted. “And you’re not dead. This isn’t really happening any more than Vivalene really kissed me a moment ago!”

“Maybe in a perfect world. But in a perfect world, there probably wouldn’t be any use for the imperfect likes of you and me. And that’s not likely to happen. You know why? Because perfection just ain’t the human way.”

“Oh, Wye, you and your fake philosophy. It’s no wonder Zed chose you for that role. You’re a natural at making much ado about nothing.”

But then everything was dark again and the next thing Ecks knew, he was slowly opening his eyes. He was lying in a bed and a machine was beeping next to him.

He was alive.

“Wye?” He looked around the room blearily, but no one was there. Well, maybe he wasn’t back yet or maybe they hadn’t let him in. That stupid “family only” rule.

They only considered bloodlines when talking about family. They didn’t take into account that someone completely unrelated could be the sole family.

Ecks held onto the hope that Wye would still come. He would if he could.

But when the days dragged on without any news of his friend, Ecks realized two things with a sinking heart.

First, the organization had probably learned that they were all traitors.

And second, seeing Wye the moment he flatlined might not have been a dream after all.