[March 11th] [The Man From U.N.C.L.E.] Learn to Be Lonely

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Title: Learn to Be Lonely
Day/Theme: March 11th - as if just being alive was more than enough.
Series: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (specifically, The Odd Man Affair episode)
Character/Pairing: Mr. Wye, Mr. Ecks
Rating: K/G


By Lucky_Ladybug

Wye stood looking into the now-empty hospital room with a mixture of wonder and melancholia. He could still hardly believe what the doctor had told him when he had come.

“The friend you brought in pulled through. He left not that long ago, really. I don’t know where he was going or what he had in mind.”

Slowly Wye advanced into the room. There was no need; nothing personal had been left behind to either indicate the room’s last occupant or what he had been planning to do after his departure. But it was just the idea that he had been there. He was alive! All of the horrid visions Wye had come up with were false. After so many weeks of imagining the worst, it seemed too incredible to be true.

And there had been quite a bit of “the worst”, it was true. The doctor had told him exactly what had been wrong and what had been done to fix it and how Ecks had still teetered dangerously near-death for some time. But somehow, his stubbornness had helped him one more time and he was well again.

Wye was sickened to hear of exactly how Ecks had suffered. Wye’s injuries hadn’t been a picnic either, but even that hadn’t matched Ecks’ problems—or at least, Wye saw it that way. He wished again that he could have been there.

Perhaps he would have, had he not given into hatred and attacked that woman and the U.N.C.L.E. agent. Zed would have still been exposed as a traitor, though, and then they would have realized about Wye and he likely would have died for real. Maybe the way things had happened had been the only way his life could have been preserved. That wasn’t a particularly enjoyable picture, but it made sense. And if Wye thought of it that way, it was at least a little easier to deal with.

The doctor didn’t like Wye much. During his explanation he had spoken in a flat, matter-of-fact tone and folded his arms, fixing Wye with a disapproving stare.

“He used to always ask me if you’d called. Of course I always had to tell him No. Finally he stopped asking. It took him a long time, but he gave up hope that you’d ever be back.

“I suppose I shouldn’t ask, especially now, but where were you?! You seemed so worried when you brought him in, but then you left for a meeting and that was it.”

His words had pierced Wye. Not that Wye really cared what a stranger thought of him, but it cut deeply to think of Ecks believing he would come and then finally giving up. And maybe, he decided, he owed this man some kind of explanation since he had kept Ecks alive.

“I know you probably won’t believe me, but I was wounded at that bloody meeting. I almost died. Couldn’t ring, and I couldn’t come here until now, either.”

The doctor had frowned, processing that information and nodding slowly as though trying to believe it. “Maybe I can believe you,” he had said. “I know you really seemed to care about him, and he you. But what kind of work are you two in? Getting wounded all over the place!”

“It’s probably better that you don’t know that,” Wye had told him.

In the present he turned away, resting his hand briefly on the footboard of the bed. Ecks would know that it was too dangerous to stay in England. He would leave as soon as he could. And maybe, if he left, it would be from that airfield they had always patronized. It might be one last hope for him, that if Wye was possibly alive, he would come there looking.

Wye hurried out of the room with a flourish. It wouldn’t hurt to still try and catch him.
****
Many thoughts spun through Wye’s mind as he took a cab to the airfield and once there, started to search for Ecks.

Even if he didn’t find him, couldn’t find him, at least he knew Ecks was alive. That was the most important thing, wasn’t it?

Would Ecks really be happy alone, though? He wasn’t a sociable person and had often spent his life alone, as Wye had suspected that first day he had seen the boy in the compound with the Rottweiler.

It was just something he’d had to get used to, he told Wye once. He had accepted that was what his life would be and he had adapted to that. What else could he have done? His parents had often been on assignment, leaving him in the charge of an efficient, indifferent caregiver sent by the organization. When they had been killed on assignment, his life hadn’t changed a whole lot. He had still been in the charge of an efficient caregiver—just not so indifferent then, as he had suddenly become interesting as the sole heir of his famous agent parents.

But while his guardian had cared what happened to him, it had only been because of what he could bring to the organization as an adult. He wasn’t shown love. His parents had been the only ones to do that.

So he had started to gravitate to the dogs, which he insisted still had a lot of love to give despite their training. Wye had seen more than once that the beasts certainly liked Ecks.

Maybe that was what he could do now, if he wanted to go into something other than spy work. He could raise and train dogs.

Wye sighed to himself. Ecks was cold and efficient in his own right, but he would sorrow over and miss Wye. That wouldn’t change, even if he tried to move on.

He was still young; maybe he would find some nice girl and they would settle down together.

But on the other hand, if he stayed alone, if he didn’t find anyone, romantic or platonic, was just being alive enough? Was the solitude worth surviving such a horrendous wound against heavy odds?

That question wouldn’t have to be answered, at least not right then. Wye looked up, staring at a familiar figure in a trenchcoat and fedora. He was looking down at what was probably a ticket and then up and out the window at a jet on the runway.

Ecks. . . .

He was here. Wye hadn’t come too late.

He broke into a run, wanting to make sure he reached Ecks before he went through the gate, before he went outside into the jet and off to whatever place he had decided on for his new life.

Ecks didn’t turn at first, not interested in the sounds of someone stampeding over the polished tiles and quite certain that it didn’t apply to him anyway. But then he felt a hand on his arm and he whipped around, ready to snap that he wanted to be let go. The snarl died on his lips as he stared, disbelieving, at his partner.

“Wait up, Duck,” Wye said with a fond smile. “You’re not leavin’ without me, are you?”

And Ecks continued to stare, still trying to comprehend, not sure what to say or how to say it or if any of it was even important right now.

“I thought you were dead,” he rasped at last. “I knew you would have come if you could.”

“I was almost dead,” Wye admitted. “But we can talk about that later. On the flight to America, maybe.” He caught sight of New York City written on the ticket. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do all around.”

“You’re right,” Ecks smiled. “We have.”