[March 20th] [The Man From U.N.C.L.E.] Like a Rolling Mist

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Title: Like a Rolling Mist
Day/Theme: March 20th - whatever walked there, walked alone
Series: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (specifically, The Odd Man Affair episode)
Character/Pairing: Mr. Ecks, Mr. Wye, assorted OCs
Rating: T/PG-13


By Lucky_Ladybug

Everything had seemed peaceful in all the time Ecks and Wye had been staying at the motel. Thus, it surprised Ecks when one night, as he was looking through the latest housing listings in the lobby, he had the sense that someone was walking past the window.

He looked up with a start. He knew he had seen a flash of white right outside, but now there was nothing. The parking lot was completely deserted.

That was unacceptable. He had always been excellent at multi-tasking and in keeping track of people going by. Someone had been there. He leaped up, throwing open the door and staring into the night.

“Just what are you doing?” the desk clerk frowned.

“Someone was out there,” Ecks retorted. “I saw them and looked up, but they were gone.”

“Then obviously they weren’t really there,” the clerk said in irritation. “Unless you think they flew away.”

“They were there,” Ecks snarled. He stepped outside, casting a vain glance around the area before returning to the lobby.

The desk clerk shook his head. “You and your friend have been working too hard, looking for work and a place to live. Relax!”

“You’re no help,” Ecks growled, heading upstairs and to the room.

He wasn’t expected to find Wye standing in the bathroom, staring at the mirror in shock. “Ecks?” Wye backed up slowly, not taking the mirror out of his sight. “Would you come look at this and tell me what you see?”

Bewildered, Ecks leaned in the doorway. “I see you, looking very frightened over a piece of glass.” He folded his arms. “What on Earth is the problem?”

“There was something else in the glass not that long ago!” Wye cried, pointing at the mirror.

Ecks started. “What something else?!”

“I don’t know!” Wye cried impatiently. “Something pale and white.”

“I just saw something white go past me out the window in the lobby,” Ecks exclaimed. “So it came up here?”

“It must have.” Wye peered into the mirror for another moment, vainly expecting the thing to appear again. Then, slowly, he backed out of the room.

“So what did it do?” Ecks asked.

Wye still looked spooked. “It just . . . stood there, looking at me. When I demanded to know what it was doing there, it pointed at me and ruddy well disappeared!”

Ecks had to admit he was disturbed, especially in light of what had just happened downstairs. “It looked human?” he queried.

“Quite. As a matter of fact, I would say . . . ghostlike.”

Ecks paled. “You don’t suppose something followed us here from that mansion?”

“Now, we don’t even know that there were really ghosts in there,” Wye retorted. “Anyway, it’s been a while since that incident. You’d think it would’ve shown up before now if it came from there.”

“Why is it showing up now at all?” Ecks said in frustration.

“Maybe there’s some legend about the place?” Wye said doubtfully. “Or more likely, it’s all a prank. Those chaps in 208 have been playing practical jokes on everyone in the bleedin’ motel.”

“Several people have complained about it,” Ecks said. “The manager said he would make sure to put a stop to it.” He walked over to the balcony doors and stared outside. “But could they have really arranged something as elaborate as this?” He tried the door. “This is still locked. And don’t forget that we’re both aware of all the commotion it makes when it’s slid open.”

“Too true,” Wye sighed.

“Maybe it just wants us to get out,” Ecks said flatly. “We have been here for some time.”

“Well, did you find anything that looked promising today?” Wye asked.

“Perhaps.” Ecks grabbed for the listings, which he had brought up with him. “There’s this house in Brooklyn. And this apartment right here in Manhattan.”

Wye studied them. “A house would be better,” he said. “This one sounds like it would suit us fine. Price ain’t bad, neither. Let’s give the realtor a bell and arrange to see it tomorrow, if possible.”

Ecks nodded. “I’ll ring him right now.” He lifted up the phone, but then froze.

“What is it?!” Wye exclaimed in bewilderment. “The days of party lines are over. There can’t already be someone on the line.”

Instead of answering, Ecks simply held the phone out. Wye took it, baffled.

“You’re not wanted here. Get out. Get out!”

The phone clicked loudly in his ear. Cringing and angry, he pulled it back. “That’s no ghost,” he declared. “It really is those two jokesters. It’d be just like them to pull somethin’ like this. One of ’em acted like he had something against us Englishmen.”

“And just how did they set it up to be on our line when we picked it up?” Ecks asked.

“They’re down at the switchboard, of course!” Wye slammed down the phone and ran out the door, heading for the stairs.

Still not convinced, Ecks trailed after him, somewhat embarrassed as several people opened their doors questioningly, bewildered by all the racket.

By the time Ecks arrived downstairs, Wye was just grabbing onto someone fleeing away from the switchboard. It was indeed one of the men from room 208.

“Now see here!” Wye snarled, giving the younger man a shake. “That was you on the line threatenin’ us, wasn’t it?! Admit it!”

The man looked rattled but defiant. “Why would I do that?” he retorted.

“You haven’t liked us being here from day one,” Wye snapped. “The manager can testify to that as well as us. You’d be more than happy to do something to try to force us out.”

Ecks folded his arms and looked stonily and accusingly at the character, who looked back and forth between Ecks and Wye.

“Alright,” he spat at last. “I haven’t liked you being here. It’s been days now! It’s time you moved on and let some American have this room.”

Wye’s lip curled. “You make me sick.” He shoved the guy backwards at the approaching manager. “Here! You promised you’d do something about these people. Obviously you didn’t do enough. Now they’re starting in with telephone harassment and breaking into our room!”

The manager stared. “Really?!”

“Yes,” Ecks said flatly.

“Wait,” the accused sputtered. “The phone thing we did, I’ll admit that. But we didn’t break into your room!”

“Oh, come off it,” Wye scoffed. “Do you think we’ll believe you now?”

“It’s true!” was the desperate retort. “What do you think we did in there anyway?”

“You tried to make it look like a ghost was in there,” Ecks said flatly. “And outside as well.”

“We didn’t do any such thing!” the man snapped.

The manager looked worried. “You really think you saw a ghost in your room?” he gasped. “And outside?”

“Why? Does that mean something to you?” Wye frowned.

“Well . . . some people have said they’ve seen something strange in that room,” the manager said weakly. “Sometimes it haunts them when they’re in another part of the motel too. It only seems to come out on certain days. I’ve never figured out what the pattern is or why some people see it and some don’t.”

“Who are some of the others who have?” Ecks queried.

“Oh, I don’t even remember much off-hand,” the manager said, shaking his head. “I think one of them was a kid trying to become an actress. Another was a . . . businessman, I think. I don’t know; there wasn’t any rhyme or reason to it. But if you’d rather get another room, I’ll understand.”

Wye heaved a sigh, exchanging a look with Ecks. “We’re hopin’ to go look at a place tomorrow,” he said. “But even if we want it, they probably won’t let us take it just like that. We’ll be here for another night, at least. How long does this ghost hang around, once it comes?”

“That also varies,” the manager said apologetically. “Sometimes it’s only a day. Sometimes it’s longer.”

“And does it leave the people alone if they get another room?” Ecks asked.

The manager paused. “Actually, I’m afraid the only guarantee of being left alone is by leaving the motel.”

“Then we might as well stay where we are,” Wye said in disgust.

“I’m truly sorry, gentlemen,” the manager said, looking for all the world like he definitely was.

“Nevermind,” Wye sighed. “But you’ll get this scum out of here, at least, won’t you?” He glowered at the telephone harasser.

“Yes, I will. Don’t you worry about that,” the manager said. “He and his friend will no longer be welcome in this motel again.”

“Then I think we can rest easy.” Wye headed back up the stairs, Ecks following after him.
****
Resting easy proved to not be so easy. More than once Ecks started awake in the night, certain he heard someone walking or sensed someone leaning over his bed. But whenever he roused up enough to look, nothing was there.

Wye seemed to find it easier to stay asleep. Ecks sighed, laying back down and gazing at the ceiling. It wasn’t a surprise, he supposed; Wye had been around longer and probably wasn’t afraid of ghosts, despite his reaction to the image in the mirror. Ecks had never thought he was afraid, until that miserable mess when he had stalked Kuryakin and Solo into that weird mansion.

Again it felt like a chill breeze walking past the bed. He threw up the covers, staring at the nothingness before him. Then, trying to ignore it, he focused on his training and tried to relax enough to go to sleep.
****
Everything seemed better in the morning. Ecks partially wondered if the night antics had all been in his imagination. But when he had the unsettling feeling that he was being watched while he readied himself for the day, he knew it had all been real.

He didn’t speak of it until he and Wye were in the used car they’d bought and driving to their appointment at the house. “I don’t want to stay in that motel room another night,” he said matter-of-factly. “The realtor said we could move in immediately if we liked the place.”

Wye frowned. “Did something else happen?”

“Yes.” Ecks stared out the window. “It took to bothering me all night long. And in the morning. Whatever it is, it’s a voyeur.”

“That’s the same impression I got last night,” Wye said. “Either that or they just don’t care what they look at these days. Ghosts might be completely indifferent. Who knows.”

“Some probably are. Not all. I say they probably continue to behave as they did in life.” Ecks wasn’t sure why the “indifferent” comment was rubbing him the wrong way. Maybe because he still didn’t know what to make of his apparent out-of-body experience, but the one thing he did know was that he had felt like the same person during it.

“In general, I’m sure they do,” Wye quickly said. “I meant if they were . . . tired of their state. If they’re tied down to this motel for some reason, that would be enough to get anybody knackered.”

“That’s true,” Ecks conceded.

“They’re probably lonely, whatever their reason is for doing what they’re doing.”

“Perhaps.” Ecks stared into the distance, uncomfortable by that thought too. “Hey . . . do you suppose that’s the common denominator when it comes to who it appears to?”

“What is?” Wye grunted. “Loneliness?”

“It would make sense,” Ecks said. “A starlet is often very lonely and discouraged, having left the life she knows in hopes of fulfilling dreams. And a businessman might be so wrapped up in his work that he doesn’t have time for anyone. Maybe he wouldn’t even have anyone.”

“But you and me, we’re not lonely now,” Wye pointed out.

“Maybe it would pick up on our feelings from before,” Ecks said. “It wasn’t that long ago that we each thought the other was dead.”

Finally Wye nodded. “You might just have something there.”

“Not that it helps anything,” Ecks said. “We’re not ghost-whisperers either. And it could have said what it wanted when you asked it, instead of just pointing at you.” He shuddered.

“It’s funny that manager hasn’t tried to get some ghost-hunters in there to see about it,” Wye said. “It doesn’t seem like it’s helping business any, so why keep it?”

“Who knows.” Ecks perked up as they arrived at the house. “Hopefully we’ll only have to return to the motel for our luggage. The listing did say there’s some furniture in there.”

“Yeah, but it might be fallin’ apart.” Wye parked in the driveway. “It’s always better to bring your own furniture.”

“If you have it to bring,” Ecks replied.
****
As it turned out, they liked the house very much, enough so that they decided to grab their luggage and move in.

The manager wasn’t surprised. “I’m sorry your last night here was so unsettling,” he said when they explained their plans.

“You should do somethin’ about that ghost,” Wye told him.

“I’ve tried,” he groaned. “Every time I bring someone, it disappears and won’t come out.”

“Then it must want to stay awfully badly,” Ecks commented.

“That’s all I can figure,” the manager nodded. “Why, who knows.”

“Maybe you should just plain seal that room off,” Wye grunted.

“That wouldn’t be very smart, monetarily,” was the reply. “Sometimes we have to use it. And since the ghost only comes out sometimes, there’s plenty of times when it doesn’t. It just doesn’t happen enough to warrant quarantining one of our best rooms.”

Wye didn’t look pleased. “I have to tell you we won’t be recommending this place.”

Not that we’d have anyone to recommend it to, Ecks thought to himself, climbing up the stairs.

The room was normal when he arrived. Trying not to feel apprehensive, he opened a drawer and started removing his clothes to place in his suitcase.

Wye joined him shortly. “Any spirit activity?”

“None. Maybe it’s gone away again.” Ecks hoped so.

“Good riddance,” Wye declared.

They finished packing and left. Wye deposited their keycard on the desk and then they were outside, loading their luggage into the car.

Ecks wasn’t sure what made him turn, but he did, and then he caught sight of a shimmering figure pacing back and forth on their balcony before vanishing altogether. A chill ran up his spine. “Let’s get out of here,” he exclaimed.

“You saw it again?” Wye started.

“Yes.” Ecks flung open the door and practically threw himself into the car.

Wye didn’t protest. He got in as well and sped out of the lot.