Part 7 of The Meanest Thing
The Meanest Thing----Part 7
By Hazelayes
"Napoleon?"
"Illya! You got my message."
Kuryakin frowned. "Is something wrong?"
Instead of replying Solo stood to put on his jacket, by which Illya understood that they should leave together and he turned to go out the door again. Then he stopped.
"I cannot leave headquarters, Mr Waverly's..."
Napoleon spoke sharply, incredulously. "You're confined to headquarters?"
"Not confined, no. At Mr Waverly's request. But I will explain my business later."What of yours?
"I needed to tell you that Sanders is in the infirmary, having been professionally beaten up by some of our own."
"UNCLE?"
"Section 2, even."
"Who?"
"I don't know for sure, but I have an idea, and I think I know why."
There was a pause while Illya processed the information. Napoleon stood waiting and watching.
Illya's head tipped slightly, "Continue, please."
Not for the first time was Napoleon struck by the almost robotic efficiency of Illya's thought processes and the small, tell-tale ways it was reflected on occasion.
"I will deal with the who myself, but I believe the why is because he spoke out in my, or in our, defence."
"Against other Section 2 agents?"
"Yes, at least three I'd say, from the state of him."
"But why...?" Illya's head snapped up suddenly and his eyes closed in a brief grimace.
"Exactly. You've noticed the remarks..."
"Yes. About us being closer friends than anyone imagined."
"Heard the one about how UNCLE saves on hotel bills?"
Illya cracked open one eye to look at his partner. "The silences."
Napoleon nodded. "Awkward... silences."
"Yes... awkward."
The up and down wail of Illya's communicator almost made both men jump. It was Marcie calling for Illya to return to Mr Waverly's office in order to take Captain Yevchenko to the UNCLE guest quarters.
"Thank you, I'm on my way."
"Oh, and Mr Kuryakin?"
"Yes?"
"Captain Yevchenko wants you to bring something he can drink."
Illya smiled. "Tell him, only if he is a good boy. No! Just tell him I'm on my way. Kuryakin out."
Napoleon watched the warm and quite tender smile fade slowly from Illya's handsome face as he put away his communicator. Oh dear. How much harder was it going to be to convince Illya that he, Napoleon, was the rightful recipient of that smile... not this Captain... Whoever-he-was.
"Napoleon, I am sorry but I have to go. I have an assignment with the Soviet Navy, an old comrade from the submarine corps in fact, and we are to part for the duration."
"Part?"
"For the duration of the assignment, only."
Napoleon looked so lost just then... lost for words, and... just lost, that Illya put his hand on his friend's shoulder and squeezed. To his surprise the dark head tipped and a warm cheek rubbed once on the back of his hand.
Illya held very still and looked deeply into Napoleon's eyes.
"I am sorry, my friend. I hate to leave things... like this... between us."
Napoleon cleared his throat and made a good effort to smile, "Don't worry, tovarisch. Worse things happen at sea."
Illya gave him a baleful look and turned to go.
"Despite that, I will be back." And the door swung to behind him leaving Napoleon feeling more alone than he ever remembered. Returning to 'civvy street' from the intensity of Korea was probably the last time.
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end of Part 7
By Hazelayes
"Napoleon?"
"Illya! You got my message."
Kuryakin frowned. "Is something wrong?"
Instead of replying Solo stood to put on his jacket, by which Illya understood that they should leave together and he turned to go out the door again. Then he stopped.
"I cannot leave headquarters, Mr Waverly's..."
Napoleon spoke sharply, incredulously. "You're confined to headquarters?"
"Not confined, no. At Mr Waverly's request. But I will explain my business later."What of yours?
"I needed to tell you that Sanders is in the infirmary, having been professionally beaten up by some of our own."
"UNCLE?"
"Section 2, even."
"Who?"
"I don't know for sure, but I have an idea, and I think I know why."
There was a pause while Illya processed the information. Napoleon stood waiting and watching.
Illya's head tipped slightly, "Continue, please."
Not for the first time was Napoleon struck by the almost robotic efficiency of Illya's thought processes and the small, tell-tale ways it was reflected on occasion.
"I will deal with the who myself, but I believe the why is because he spoke out in my, or in our, defence."
"Against other Section 2 agents?"
"Yes, at least three I'd say, from the state of him."
"But why...?" Illya's head snapped up suddenly and his eyes closed in a brief grimace.
"Exactly. You've noticed the remarks..."
"Yes. About us being closer friends than anyone imagined."
"Heard the one about how UNCLE saves on hotel bills?"
Illya cracked open one eye to look at his partner. "The silences."
Napoleon nodded. "Awkward... silences."
"Yes... awkward."
The up and down wail of Illya's communicator almost made both men jump. It was Marcie calling for Illya to return to Mr Waverly's office in order to take Captain Yevchenko to the UNCLE guest quarters.
"Thank you, I'm on my way."
"Oh, and Mr Kuryakin?"
"Yes?"
"Captain Yevchenko wants you to bring something he can drink."
Illya smiled. "Tell him, only if he is a good boy. No! Just tell him I'm on my way. Kuryakin out."
Napoleon watched the warm and quite tender smile fade slowly from Illya's handsome face as he put away his communicator. Oh dear. How much harder was it going to be to convince Illya that he, Napoleon, was the rightful recipient of that smile... not this Captain... Whoever-he-was.
"Napoleon, I am sorry but I have to go. I have an assignment with the Soviet Navy, an old comrade from the submarine corps in fact, and we are to part for the duration."
"Part?"
"For the duration of the assignment, only."
Napoleon looked so lost just then... lost for words, and... just lost, that Illya put his hand on his friend's shoulder and squeezed. To his surprise the dark head tipped and a warm cheek rubbed once on the back of his hand.
Illya held very still and looked deeply into Napoleon's eyes.
"I am sorry, my friend. I hate to leave things... like this... between us."
Napoleon cleared his throat and made a good effort to smile, "Don't worry, tovarisch. Worse things happen at sea."
Illya gave him a baleful look and turned to go.
"Despite that, I will be back." And the door swung to behind him leaving Napoleon feeling more alone than he ever remembered. Returning to 'civvy street' from the intensity of Korea was probably the last time.
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end of Part 7