Fandom Man from UNCLE
Word count 100+100+100
Forms of Things Unknown? What did this mean?
His partner had hauled himself up on one of the box. He was studying the sphere. Napoleon hesitated, considering his options but suddenly the vibrations increased.
The man he was used to rely upon, utterly, instinctively, held out his hand to him. Instinctively, he grabbed it, joining his friend on the box at the very moment the sphere was engulfing them.
A huge checkerboard. Concrete and grass squares, giant pieces... Above them, moored to the checkerboard, a rocky sphere floating in the air. And a tree.
“This isn't a checkerboard...” Illya whispered.
Of course it wasn't... The Russian didn't loosen his grip on his hand and Napoleon frowned. His friend looked exhausted, his hair matted with sweat despite of an insidious breeze which chilled them to the bones. “Which chilled me”, he corrected, as he noticed Illya's open shirt.
A swirl of memories occurred to him, as superimposed images of his partner climbing up the stairs, in the library, on the footbridge, in the temple... Beige jumpsuit, leather jacket, black turtleneck, black jacket...
“We can't stay here, Napoleon!” Illya insisted. “Napoleon!, please!”
“No. Now tell me, what is it about?”
“No.” Napoleon wrenched himself free in order to grab the man's arm but Illya shook his head in sheer desperation and pointed at the horizon.
Concrete squares were vanishing silently, leaving strips of grass instantaneously covered with sand. A grayish desert spread inexorably.
“Don't let it take you away...” The voice was unusually pleading. “We can still make it...” The blue eyes were almost flashing. “Get on the sphere, now.” He paused, adding softly, “Trust me...”
Despite of the stiff-breeze, dragged, pulled and pushed by his partner's strong hands, Napoleon found himself nestled at the foot of the tree.