[March 6th] [The Man From U.N.C.L.E.] Dead and Alive

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Title: Dead and Alive
Day/Theme: March 6th - maybe death is nature's way of saying, try again.
Series: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (specifically, The Odd Man Affair episode)
Character/Pairing: Mr. Wye, with brief appearances by Bryn Watson and Illya Kuryakin and thoughts of Mr. Ecks
Rating: K+/PG


By Lucky_Ladybug

Wye couldn’t quite believe his luck. At the sound of someone on the stairs, he had come out, figuring it was Zed wondering where he was. Instead, the woman he had despised all day was standing there, facing him, alarmed and even frightened. Oh, she tried to hide it, even warning him that he was liable to get hurt instead of her. But he could tell she was afraid.

He sneered at her, forcing her back down the stairs as he breathed threats against her. He was even stooping to blaming her for what had happened in the park. He knew she hadn’t stabbed Ecks, but she had been with the men who had, and that was good enough for him. He hated them all, and in lieu of going after the men he really wanted, he would have to be content with going after her first.

He should have known she wasn’t there alone, really. He had barely started to try attacking her when one of the men, the blond one, rushed over and threw himself into the fray. Wye snarled, struggling with him over the gun. He fell to the floor, but soon delivered a painful kick to the enemy agent’s back.

Was he the one who had stabbed Ecks? Was he the one responsible for the boy lying in the operating room, bleeding to death? Quite possibly he was in the hospital morgue by now. Wye knew there had never been much hope that he would live.

Part of him wanted to ask the question that was screaming in his mind. Was it you? Did you do it? But the fight was too fierce and too fast; there was no chance to get in any words.

Somehow during the struggle his gun went off, firing through the closed door. Moments later, a body hit the floor. That was certainly unintended; Wye hadn’t meant for one of the guards in his own organization to be shot, even though he was part of the traitorous movement. Still, it wasn’t his main interest right now. He got hold of his gun and backed up, the blond agent in his sights and hatred in his heart.

Yes, you’re going to die. I’m going to make you suffer for running Ecks through like a stuck pig.

The gunfire from someone still alive in the meeting room was a complete surprise. The bullets tearing into his back were another. He gasped in pain, suspended upright for an eternity of a moment before he crashed to the floor. The gun clattered to the floor beside him.

Somewhere in his mind he was aware of the enemy agent staring down at him, surprised as well. And the woman was probably there, gawking in confusion. But he couldn’t even bring himself to speak.

I hate you both. I hate what you did. I hate that you killed him.

Perhaps it was odd when he was the senior agent, but he had always been more rash than Ecks. He had generally tried to rein that side of his personality in, especially while training the boy, but there had been times when he had wanted to make some impulse move and Ecks had calmly convinced him to wait.

Even though Ecks had come to despise the organization, he had always made a good agent for them. But Wye had been good as well or he never would have reached the position he had held.

Now . . . now . . .

His vision dimmed as his eyes sank closed. Would he survive this? Unlikely. If these bullets didn’t kill him, the organization might learn that he was a traitor. Then they would make sure that the next bullets to hit him would fulfill their task.

I’m sorry, Ecks. If you do end up pulling through somehow, you’ll have to get along without me. Not that you wouldn’t have had to anyway.

You’ll be alright. You’ve got the skills and the smarts to make it.

I just wish I could have done something about the gits what hurt you.
****
Wye couldn’t have been more surprised when consciousness slowly began to return. Finally he opened his eyes, hissing in pain; he was still lying on his back.

It soon dawned on him, however, that he was no longer on the floor of Zed’s mansion. It was dark and uncomfortably cold, and there was the oddest sensation of death all around him.

He reached out, hoping to grasp hold of the floor and turn onto his side. Instead, he touched something lifeless and clammy. He jerked his hand back, staring at the object in the near-darkness. It was another human hand.

He swore under his breath. The organization prided itself on being neat and tidy; it did not like a mess. Dead bodies all over the floor of a member’s house were a mess. Someone had dragged all of the dead—or presumed dead—out back to a shed.

Gingerly he reached out again, this time touching the hand on purpose. There was no pulse. He struggled to rise, but the pain from the wounds brought him to the floor again. During the motion he had caught sight of one other body, large and heavyset.

Zed? Zed was also dead?

Gritting his teeth in pain, he forced himself to turn onto his other side and examine his boss. Zed was very dead. Even if Wye hadn’t felt for a pulse, the damage done by what looked like a certain amount of explosives would have told him what he needed to know.

More than likely, Zed had been discovered as a traitor somehow. And that meant that Wye had also been branded as such. They had been dumped here with the dead guard, the organization unconcerned with their burials. Wye knew what would likely happen next; they would ring a certain shady company they did business with to that end and have the bodies taken away. They wouldn’t bother burying the bodies themselves.

Wye certainly didn’t intend to remain here until someone came for that purpose. He forced himself to turn around, facing the door, and crawled towards it. It wasn’t locked, naturally; Zed’s estate was private and the organization wasn’t afraid of prying eyes looking into the shed. Of course, they also weren’t afraid of reviving bodies breaking out.

He pushed the door open, crawling out onto the grass. He managed to shut the door behind him before he continued dragging himself through the expansive garden and towards the secret back exit. Despite the fire in his back, and the unconsciousness that threatened to sweep over him again, he refused to stop. Somehow, someway, he wasn’t dead yet, nor was he the slightest bit paralyzed. He had another chance and he was going to take it.

When he was better, he would have to find out what had happened to Ecks. He just hoped the boy had pulled through after all, and that he wouldn’t worry too much. Ecks wasn’t often a worrier, but when faced with the possibility that Wye might be dead, even he would worry. Wye was probably the only person alive who would prompt that sort of reaction from the cold, efficient agent.

Just hold on now, Duck. I’ll be back.

I just hope you’ll be around to come back to.