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Illya did wonder why Waverly chose him for this mission. Sneaking and stealing and subterfuge were more of Napoleon’s thing.
Illya did very much appreciate that he was the one that was sent on this mission.
“Where are they, dammit?” his captor shouted in his face, punching him in the gut again.
Illya let out a soft groan. He did not have energy for anything more.
He wasn’t exactly sure how long ago he was captured, but he was pretty sure it has been at least two days. It got hard to keep track of time between the beatings and the insults and the broken bones and the hunger and the knife cuts and the burns and the threats and not being allowed to sleep for more than an hour at a time.
He was very gratefully neither Gaby nor Napoleon had to suffer this.
His captor stepped behind him and grabbed his ring finger to break it just as he had done with his pinkie, when one of the other men spoke up.
“Boss? I have news.”
Even with one eye swollen shut, Illya immediately recognized Napoleon when they dragged him inside, bound and gagged. He felt his blood go cold.
They forced him to his knees in front of Illya. He seemed mostly unharmed, excluding the blood on his temple.
Napoleon held his gaze for as long as he could before their captor forced his head down and pushed a pistol against it.
“Let him go,” Illya growled out, his voice rough.
“So, you do know each other. Thank you for confirming that.”
Fuck. Illya really wasn’t on top of his game, making a rookie mistake like this. However, he had no time to dwell on his self-loathing before the man spoke again.
“Is he your fellow Russian?” their captor asked in a gleeful tone. He was apparently extremely pleased with having more leverage against Illya.
“No. Just an American Cowboy.”
Illya hoped the comment made Napoleon smile behind the gag.
“I will shoot him unless you tell me where you hid the documents.”
When they captured him, Illya mentally prepared himself for never making it out alive. Of course, part of him hoped that he would be saved. He wanted to keep living. But at the same time, he knew the odds were against him. He'd made his peace with dying because of his job when he started out as a spy. It was to be expected.
He could have done without the torture. However, he knew he could withstand it. He would not reveal anything.
“I really will kill him.”
He knew he would break if they started torturing Napoleon. He wouldn’t be able to handle that.
“Do you want him to die?”
Of course he didn’t want him to die. But in a twisted way, this situation was almost a mercy. Sure, the ground was cold and uncomfortable – Illya knew that from personal experience – but Napoleon didn’t seem to be suffering more than the discomfort. And if Illya allowed their captor to shoot him, at least he would die painlessly.
“Where did you hide them?”
Illya tried to shift in his bonds, looking for a weak spot. However, just like with his previous attempts, he found none. Additionally, he wasn’t sure he could fight off all the guys and keep Napoleon safe in this state even if he managed to get free. The situation felt quite hopeless.
“Come on! Say something! Do you want to see his brain decorate the floor?”
Illya hoped that Napoleon was smart enough to bring backup. That someone would come and rescue them before Illya was forced to make the impossible choice.
“Tell me where the documents are.”
“No,” Illya responded finally.
Maybe he could stall. Napoleon had to have a plan. He usually had a plan and at least 5 backups.
“Come on, agent. Surely you care about your American partner here.”
And Gaby was definitely looking for them too. He just had to be patient. Keep a straight face, not react at all. He would not slip up again.
“Tell us where you hid the documents!”
Illya briefly considered which was more important to him. Napoleon or the mission? Napoleon or the world? He knew what the answer should be. He also knew the real answer was different.
“I am going to kill him.”
The threats were getting kind of old. Illya wished Gaby would hurry up with the rescue. He was tired and in pain and really did not want to deal with this man’s nonsense any longer. His voice was very annoying and Illya spent way too long listening to it in the past few days.
“I am going to count from five to one. And on zero, I will shoot his brains out.”
Illya decided not to waste his energy on saying that based on that statement, he would theoretically never shoot Napoleon. Illya really wished he would never shoot Napoleon. However, the man released the safety of the gun that was pressing against Napoleon’s head. Illya’s heart started to beat a little bit faster.
“Five.”
He was bluffing. It was a bluff. Their captor had to know he would lose really valuable leverage if he shot Napoleon right now. Illya just had to trust that Napoleon had a plan or that Gaby would come on time.
“Four.”
Illya couldn’t just sit by idly. All the adrenaline was helping him put the pain and exhaustion out of his mind for a moment. He tried to break the rope that was holding him, but he did not have enough strength. Fuck. Being strong was the thing he was good at. Why was he failing now?
“Three.”
Illya slumped back in the chair, absolutely drained and in even more pain than before. Ебать! Their captor was somehow counting down faster than Illya expected.
What if Napoleon had no plans and no backup? He did not seem to be doing anything, but being inconspicuous was his speciality. Right now, Illya would have been very glad to have at least some insight into Napoleon’s thoughts. It was impossible to read his intentions without at least seeing his face.
“Two.”
If he let Napoleon get shot, it would make him very angry. In fact, Napoleon may never forgive him for that. Maybe he would come back to haunt him as a ghost. Even death wouldn’t stop Napoleon from getting petty revenge if he wanted to.
Fuck, the sleep deprivation was really messing with Illya’s brain if he was thinking such ridiculous thoughts.
“Better say your goodbyes now.”
If Illya ever had to say his final goodbye to Napoleon, he definitely wouldn’t want to do it in front of some power-hungry bastard with an extremely annoying voice. Though Illya had to begrudgingly admit that the bastard and his men were quite competent.
“One.”
Illya just was opening his mouth to reveal the location of the documents when there was suddenly a large bang near the door.
He went limp in his bonds as relief flooded his body the same way UNCLE agents led by Gaby flooded the warehouse.
‘Looks like neither Cowboy nor me are dying today.’