The Last Minute
by Charlie Kirby

He saw her at the last minute. He'd escaped, left behind a special parting gift and was shooting his way free of the THRUSH stronghold.

Illya paused. He was down to his last few bullets, but if he didn't put some more distance between himself and the building, it wouldn't very much matter. And that's when he saw her, ragged and terrified, hiding in a shallow gulch.

He didn't think twice; he wasn't wired that way. He scooped her up and ran as hard as he could. That wasn't very hard, not after what he'd been through, but it was enough. The blast knocked him from his feet and sent them tumbling down a hillside.

As she rolled past him, Illya snaked out a hand, caught her, and dragged her backwards, to where he'd come to a rough stop and covered her with his body to protect her from the falling debris.

For a seemingly long time, the countryside rolled and buckled as a result of the explosives he'd planted. The ferocity of the blast told him THRUSH had had its own cache of fireworks on hand as well.

"Are you okay?" he asked the moment he was able to spit the dirt out of his mouth and wave away the dust.

Still she cowered, her face hidden from view. Carefully, Illya brushed the hair back from her face and slowly she responded, turned towards his touch and finally found his eyes.

"Are you hurt?" Illya could feel blood trickling down his temple, but that didn't matter. His head didn't hurt and his thoughts were fairly clear, aside from the buzzing from a lack of food and sleep.

Her right hand flew to her ear and her expression grew fearful. Illya understood and nodded. "It's okay," he said loudly. "It's from the blast."

"Ketkä sinua ovat?" she mumbled and Illya blinked. He spoke half a dozen languages, knew twice as many more and had no clue what she was saying or of the language being used.

"Parle du français? Parla l'italiano? 3>2>@8B5 =0 @CAA:>To each question, she just stared at him. "Okay, this is going to be interesting." Illya got to his feet and held out his hand. After a moment, she took it and he made a walking motion with two of his fingers. That she understood and nodded vigorously.

Then she stopped and touched her chest, "Vappu." She patted her chest again. "Vappu."

Illya frowned for a moment and then nodded. "Illya."

"Eel-ya," she repeated and Illya sighed.

"And why is it you can pronounce it and my own partner can't?"

They stumbled through the woods, stopping frequently for Illya to make a subtle mark. With any luck, Napoleon or some other UNCLE agent would be along and recognize them for what they were.

He was leaning wearily against a tree trunk, carving into the wood with his p-38 can opener, one of the few things THRUSH had left him. It had been their mistake. They hadn't seen it as a weapon and Illya knew differently. In the right hands, anything was a weapon - he had proved that. Vappu caught his arm and pointed through the underbrush.

In the twilight, the cabin wavered in his vision, seeming more a mirage than stone and mortar, but as they approached, it stabilized. At least it would provide shelter for the night.

He forced open the door and stumbled in. It had been empty for awhile; that was obvious. Cobwebs clung to the beams, hanging down to brush lightly against his face. The air inside was damp and stale, but it was out of the elements. He could smell rain in the air and the wind had begun to pick up. He pushed them away and headed for the fireplace. Wood was stacked, awaiting a now gone occupant.

"At least we will be warm tonight," Illya said, knowing full well she didn't understand him. He pulled off the tattered remains of his jacket, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and started working on building a fire, using whatever he could get his hands on for kindling. That turned out to be books. They were scattered everywhere, as if read and simply tossed aside. He felt a small twinge of guilt as he tore pages from something, but a quick check proved it to be a popular novel. He didn't feel quite as bad then.

He blew gently on the flame to get it to catch, turning his head slowly as Vappu approached. She was carrying an armful of cans. The first couple he set aside. He was careful not to choose anything that bulged. Finally he selected a half a dozen cans and opened them.

Not all that appetizing, but appearance wasn't as important to him as content. He found two whose contents vaguely resembled stew and pushed them into the embers of the now blazing fire with the poker.

Another can revealed crackers. They were stale and hard as a rock, and exactly what Illya needed. He couldn't bolt them, not without risking a tooth, so he was forced to nibble on one slowly, reintroducing his stomach to the idea of food. That's when he realized that Vappu had disappeared and he looked around the small cabin.

The firelight flickered restlessly upon the interior, but the young woman was nowhere to be seen.

"Vappu?" he half shouted. He didn't think anyone had survived that blast, but you could never tell.

A moment later, the door pushed open and he went for his rifle. He checked himself at the last minute when he realized it was Vappu carrying something. Water, it turned out, in a broken handled cooking pot. She tilted her head to one side in a silent question.

This, too, he placed into the embers of the fire.

They ate near tasteless and too salty stew with crackers that nearly defied eating. They drank water that tasted a little rusty and was skimmed with ash from the fire. To Illya's way of thinking, he wouldn't have enjoyed a meal at a five-star restaurant more.

Cleaning up was merely a case of washing off their hands and tossing the cans into a pile. While Illya looked for a way to secure the door, Vappu pushed aside trash and spread out some blankets. They were stiff and smelled slightly of mildew, but they were better than sleeping on the earthen floor of the cabin. He stoked the fire and made sure that the bedding was well away from the embers.

Illya carefully lowered himself to the floor, realizing for the first time how tired he was. This whole day had a dream like quality to it that comes from too little sleep. He glanced over at Vappu and she gracefully settled down beside him.

For a few minutes, she kept her distance, but then started inching towards him until she rested against him. He rested his forehead against her head and listened. The wind was coming up and the cabin rattled in response to its gusts. Vappu pressed closer, as if afraid of the wind.

"It can't hurt you," Illya murmured softly, draping a casual hand over her waist. He waited to see her reaction, prepared to retreat if she gave him the slightest bit of discouragement. Just the opposite actually and he smiled slightly. Although he chided his partner for taking advantage of a situation, Illya knew he was no better.

Vappu ran a finger down his arm, pausing to toy with the hairs on his forearm, then brought his hand to her mouth to kiss his bruised fingers tenderly. She settled it upon her breast and gave the hand an encouraging squeeze.

"Are you serious? Do you actually want to do this?" Illya wasn't sure if he was asking this question of her or himself. He knew nothing of her and would, in all likelihood, never see her again. That gave the prospect of sex a sort of 'no consequence' aspect to it. Illya wasn't sure exactly how he felt about it. Vappu reached back to pull him even closer, wiggling her ass enticingly against his erection.

"Minulla haluaisin olla sukupuoli, jolla on sinä", she murmured, tilting her head and squeezed his thigh.

"I have no idea what you are saying, but I hear you quite clearly." Illya shifted around, rearranging them until she was draped over him. He shoved his jacket beneath his head, an impromptu pillow that stank of mud, dust, and THRUSH.

They proceeded slowly, their fingers undoing buttons, snaps, or whatever closures they stumbled across as they grew familiar with each other's body.

Vappu wasn't small. Rather, she reminded him of the women back home, plump, but solid, soft, yet so strong. Not like American women, so skinny he could fit his fingers between their ribs or so thin their hip bones jutted out to bruise him. He was always afraid that he'd hurt them if he wasn't very careful.

Vappu was voluptuous and responsive. She made little encouraging sounds as Illya traced her nipples and caressed her ass. She wiggled enticingly as his fingers found her clitoris and massaged it gently. And she moaned when she suddenly positioned herself over his penis and slid down onto it. She leaned back, braced her hands on his thighs and squeezed her vaginal muscles... hard.

This time it was Illya's turn to moan and he arched up in response. He wasn't used to being on the bottom during love making, but he was suddenly disinclined to force his hand.

Vappu moved in a cadence that made him simultaneously want to ejaculate but just as anxious not to. This feeling was wonderful. It didn't matter that they were lying on mildewed blankets on a cold earthen floor. It didn't matter that the only food he'd had recently had been gray and tasteless. It didn't matter that a lack of sleep made his vision blur and his head swim. All that mattered right now was Vappu and the way she rode him, of the sensations that made his nerve endings scream for completion.

He could hear her cries become more frequent, more demanding, and more desperate. Then suddenly she cried out and ground against him. Illya grabbed her thighs and held her in place as he thrust up two more times, then a third and he joined her in the climax fireworks.

For a long time, they stayed like that, unmoving. Then he felt himself slip free and sighed. Perhaps again in the morning they'd make love, but, for the moment, he was spent, both physically and mentally.

With her comfortably nestled against him and the fire crackling a counterpoint against the wind, they drifted off to sleep.

"Illya!"

Illya groggily opened his eyes and looked around. The fire had long since gone out, but that didn't keep his body from burning with pain. He rolled over with a groan.

"Illya!"

The sound of his partner's voice made him sit up and he looked around the cabin. It was very much as they'd left it the night before. He groped for and found his shirt, pulling it on, even though common sense argued against his moving at all.

"Napoleon!" He shouted as loudly as he could, which didn't seem very loud at all, but it proved enough. A moment later, Napoleon's voice was very close.

"Where are you?"

"The cabin!"

"The... what... oh!" Another minute, just enough time for Illya to struggle into his pants and Napoleon came crashing through the barricaded door. "Thank God, we have been looking for you all night. It wasn't until dawn that we saw the smoke."

Illya glanced over at the fire, it seemed ice cold to him, but he had a fever so it was hard to tell.

"About time," he muttered, trying to collect his thoughts enough to say something more intelligent.

"If it hadn't been for that trailblazing you left us, we wouldn't have even known what direction to take." Napoleon knelt beside him. "You look like you've been ridden hard and put away wet." He brushed the lanky blond hair off Illya's forehead and sucked in a breath. "And that's a helluva knock you got there."

Napoleon pulled out his communicator and began to speak quickly into it. Illya thought to interrupt him a time or two, but honestly he didn't know what he would have said. Instead, he busied himself trying to find his socks.

"Our ride will be here in a couple of minutes." They both knew it was a lie, but Illya didn't argue.

"Where's Vappu?"

"Who?"

"A woman I rescued. She was here with me."

Napoleon turned and snapped some instructions to another agent who'd just entered. Immediately the agent withdrew and started shouting to the others. "We'll find her, Illya, just you rest."

Illya nodded, but continued to move. He got all the way to his knees when he suddenly realized the ground was abruptly coming up very fast to meet him.

Illya let his head lolled on the pillow and permitted his body a full minute of lassitude before forcing it into awareness. He felt lightheaded and his eyes refused his attempts to focus them.

"Whatever pain medication you gave me is strongly recommended," he said. Or rather he tried to. It came out sounding closer to Uhn than anything else.

"Hey, partner." Illya rolled his head in the other direction and managed to smile at his partner. "How are you feeling?"

"I am not in any pain, thank you." This time, it sounded like Oog.

"I'll take that to mean you are good." Napoleon patted his shoulder. "Just give it a couple more minutes." He raised the head of the bed and held a cup of ice chips to Illya's mouth. "Just a few now, don't rush it."

The curtain pulled back from around his bed and Illya nearly choked.

"Vappu..." he started.

"Who?" The nurse asked, her head tilted to one side.

"Some woman he said he rescued. Illya, we couldn't find anyone; we searched for two days."

"You..." Illya murmured, staring at the nurse. He was very confused. She was Vappu.

"Illya, this is Nurse Riska --" Napoleon started.

"Anneli Jenna Sanna Riska, to be proper about it." The woman's voice was even familiar.

"Vappu..." Illya struggled to get his mind sorted out and realized that perhaps if he slept on it, things would be more clear when he woke.

"He keeps saying that." Napoleon's voice was getting faint now.

"That's funny. Vappu is a Finnish word - it's the Goddess who grants salvation to fallen warriors. My father used to tell me the stories when I was grown up back in Helsinki."

Huh, Illya thought. He drifted to sleep, remembering how she felt, how she tasted, and he decided, A goddess... It was a good thing I saw her and saved her at the last minute then.