Disclaimer: I own a few things, and if you sue me you'll get no money! I'm a poor enlisted in the Navy! And my co-writer isn't any richer then me! Why sue us? -sniff-

Notes: Elaine wanted to be in peril, and not of the Monty Python kind.

Synopsis: Doctor Dabree has returned for her revenge against Solo, and is using Elaine as bait! In the meantime we have Celeste dealing with an old boyfriend, her sister dealing with a dog, and Illya dealing damage control. How will things turn out?

CULTURE SHOCK

Part 5: The Fine Furry Friend Affair

"I can't believe you told Illya that story." Elaine muttered as she took out the file needed for the report.

"I swear, it was the tequila talking," Celeste told her, "and he told me an embarrassing story about Solo in return. Wanna hear it? It involves him pretended to be a geeky secretary and--."

Elaine closed the file drawer loudly. "No."

Celeste blinked as she regained her hearing before saying, "What's wrong with you? It's been about a week since then and you're still after Illya for the little things. I thought he apologized by giving you that newspaper or whatever from the last assignment that took them near--."

"He did."

"So what's the problem?"

Elaine turned to her friend. "You told him about Napoleon and that very Love Hina moment. I was mortified by it and didn't find it funny. Besides," she shifted, "a man is not allowed peeping privileges until the third week into a relationship with me."

Celeste blinked at that before saying, "But we've been here longer then that. I mean, almost three months by now."

Elaine cast her a glare. "I meant dating, dear, which, we are not, so..."

Celeste let out a sigh. "You were in the Navy and still have that concept in your mind?"

"Shore squid, remember?"

Celeste gave a smile. "So I do now. I keep forgetting you didn't have that stint onboard a ship to relieve you of any concepts of dignity that boot camp didn't already take away. One learns their lesson after having to walk through the corridors with only a towel between them and streaking...but seriously, what's the matter?"

Elaine paused before saying, "I think you're lucky. I mean, you have your lust-object. Mine is...well..."

Celeste rolled her eyes. "Elaine, mine knows how to disarm high-explosive items and yet can't understand how to not set up an explosive situation or defuse it quickly. Yours at least understands the fairer sex. Mine needs a road map, written instructions, or his partner to do it."

Elaine nodded in agreement. "Density must be a male thing. But I'll keep all of your earlier instructions about how to keep doctors off should I ever actually land in the hospital."

Celeste frowned. "That's what this is about? I never viewed you as the masochistic type." She paused. "Well, other then verbally."

"That's not it and you know it."

"Yeah right." Celeste gave a suggestive smile. "You're in need of some peril, aren't you?"

Elaine gave her an innocent look. "Why, do I look like I need it?"

Celeste gave a small snort. "I'm actually amazed you haven't posted those pictures, as the amount of peril I've been getting--."

"In what context, snuggle-bunny?"

Celeste stopped short at that and looked up at her. "I thought we talked about that nickname."

Elaine crossed her arm. "My point remains: what type of peril are you talking about?"

Celeste frowned, obviously confused. "Peril...you know. Monty Python, Castle Anthrax..."

Elaine nodded in understanding. "Ah, yes," she quote simply, the English accent coming easily to her, "'Bathing, dressing, undressing, knitting exciting underwear—'. That would be some nice peril, but if it could be preceded by actual physical danger, well..."

Celeste had gone red though, and a new voice came in as Elaine finished. "What, exactly, are you two talking about?"

Elaine felt herself turn red and refused to turn around as Celeste said quietly after a cough. "Um...peril, sir."

"Why on earth for, and what did that have to do with the first part of her sentence?"

Elaine and Celeste both looked like sinking into a puddle and falling through cracks on the floor would be a good thing at this point.

"Um...we were quoting a movie...they used peril as a...um..."

"I think I get the idea. Never mind. Back to work."

The two let out audible sighs as Elaine retreated to work and Celeste sat down before Waverly asked, "Does she really want to get herself into peril of either nature?"

This man would make a good match to my almost-grandmother...he's about as understanding and makes the strangest remarks..."I don't honestly know, sir, but I wouldn't put it past her."

Waverly harrumphed, "Peril is never a substitute for...peril..."

"I'm not showing you the movie so you can get it, sir, I left it at home."

"Drat. Well, carry on."

Celeste nodded and wondered when she had become the Blockbuster of UNCLE.

"And how is your leg, Doctor?"

"It aches from time to time, but it is nothing I cannot bear." The woman settled down into her seat with a faint wince of pain which turned into a tight smile when her assistant placed a file folder at the table in front of her. "Now is the time we act, Ethan. I trust this is the information I asked for?"

"Yes, Doctor." Ethan rubbed his hands together nervously, watching as his mentor opened the file. "They keep her on a tight leash, but from what we've been able to gather..." He waited for her to reach the packet of photographs that had been included along with numerous case reports, then continued, "Her name is Elaine Salomon, Doctor, and she appears to work for UNCLE as a linguist and file clerk. Fluent in three languages other than English, proficient in two more..."

"Yes, yes. I can read, you know." The doctor skimmed idly through each report, pausing only to linger over the photographs. "Charming, in a crude sort of way. Were it not for her involvement in the recent incident with the Carruthers family, one would think her social skills were limited to off-color jokes and belching tricks. Yet for some unfathomable reason Solo seems to find her appealing enough to be seen with her more than once in a great while."

"A fact that amazes me too, Doctor."

A particularly dark look focused on one scene that captured the young woman in question on a lunch date, laughing over some bit of wit offered by her companion. "It seems that there is no accounting for taste in this case, Ethan, but were it not for his persistent larking habits one could almost suspect him of finally falling into monogamy." She closed the folder and steepled her hands, deep in thought. "Take her at your earliest convenience and by whatever means necessary. I shall have my revenge and no one will stand in my way."

Act 1: The Sound of "Yes"

Most of the staff in the Translation section had clocked out for lunch, the few remaining either absorbed in urgent matters or having made other arrangements. Elaine had finished her daily tasks with her usual efficiency and now sat whiling the remainder of her time away with a newspaper from her region of interest. Her mind was split between deciphering the challenging text and the anticipation of an unpleasant reality that lurked just minutes away, carried along the hallway on the firm footfalls of immaculately polished dress shoes, and when the office door next opened she spared a glance over the top of the paper to confirm her suspicion.

Remember, he is too good to be true, Elaine told herself, holding the paper up to form a barrier between herself and this latest visitor. Exhibit A: The Suit. No matter what kind of scrapes he gets into, he always emerges as clean and tidy as before he went in. Check for cleaners' tags at next available opportunity. The newspaper provided ample cover for her to casually listen to the snippets of conversation that sprang up in the visitor's wake, and Elaine forced herself to focus anew on the intricacies of Yugoslavian print articles as the footsteps paused next to her. A faint rustle of fabric and creak of metal showed that he had stopped to perch on the edge of the desk. "Anything worth reading today?"

"No," said Elaine after some moments' pause, finding it necessary to mouth the words she read aloud in order to keep her focus. "At least nothing that you would find interesting, Mr. Solo."

"Anything can be interesting in the right context, Miss Salomon," came the faintly teasing reply, along with a careful motion with an index finger to hook the top of the newspaper and tug it away from Elaine's grasp. This was met with a raptor-fast strike of the girl's hand, flicking the intruder away so that she could resume her reading unmolested. Napoleon winced at the brief pain but nonetheless persisted. "Why don't you take a break from the dealings of our good Josip Broz and come to lunch with me?"

"No." Elaine turned a page, dove into the next article as a refuge from this continuing assault of charm. Work is more important than any guy ever will be, or that's what you kept telling yourself while you were studying this stuff at school.

This was met with a puzzled sound, then, "No? What do you mean, no?"

"Precisely what I said. No, as in the opposite of yes."

"Ah." Pause, then, "That's what I thought. I'm not used to hearing that from you – I think I prefer the sound of 'yes.' So much lighter on the ears than the negative - "

Grumbling irritably to herself, Elaine lowered the newspaper and fixed Napoleon in what she hoped was an intimidating glare. "Then go ask one of the other members of the flock, Mr. Solo. I'm sure they can afford to oblige you, but I have five more pages of Politika to get through before I can leave my desk without catching any flak for it. I won't leave unless you can find someone else to read this, and before you say it, I highly doubt Illya would be willing to play accomplice to one of your whims this time. After all, he was so kind as to help me find more appropriate reading material and might take it as a personal insult if I brushed aside his efforts."

"Fair enough, Miss Salomon." Napoleon rose from his seat on the desk's edge, allowing Elaine a courteous nod before moving away. "Pardon my intrusion."

"So you told him no this time, huh?" Celeste grinned over the top of her recently emptied shot glass before setting it down next to a cluster of its fellows. The two young women had adjourned to a familiar club after the conclusion of that day's work, eager to get a start on that weekend's leisure while on pretext of keeping the establishment under surveillance. Due to the unique nature of said club and a prior incident that the two had taken part in under its roof, it had been easy to convince the authorities of the necessity for their presence, and Celeste and Elaine had gladly exchanged the confines of their business attire for garb more suitable for relaxation. Food and drinks had soon followed, the tab discreetly overlooked by the club's owner who still remembered their part in salvaging his business from an unsavory reputation. "A lunch invitation like that in front of witnesses is usually cause for an emotional Chernobyl on your part, dear. What's up with the sudden change?"

"You shouldn't need to ask that and you know it." Elaine listlessly twirled her straw between thumb and index finger as she waited for the bar staff to bring her latest order to the table. "It's ironic that you should invoke the Soviets in relation to this catastrophe, you know?"

Celeste nodded thanks to the waitress who had chosen the path of expedience and simply brought the bottle of her chosen beverage instead of renewing the flow of shot glasses, pouring herself a fresh drink and sighing at Elaine's remark. "Don't tell me you're still upset over what Illya did. He told me that you two made peace..."

"After a fashion," Elaine replied, switching her straw into a fresh glass full of something blue, fruity, and mercifully unidentifiable. "Doesn't change the fact that he was an ass about it."

A cough as the next shot burned its way down Celeste's esophagus, then, "Well, Napoleon's obviously moved on. Why can't you? It was just a stupid mistake."

"Spiritual wounds take longer to heal than physical wounds." Elaine took a long pull on her drink, then muttered, "Which explains why I get panic attacks whenever I step foot in a shipyard or get pissed off when I think about that man-whore I dated in school... or can't help shaking my head when I think about some of the talks I've had with your sister, for example. Talk about agreeing to disagree, huh?" Hearing the muted conversation of the bouncer with a new guest, Elaine turned slightly to see who it was and nearly choked on her drink. A few vigorous chest thumps and startled blinks later, she turned back to Celeste and muttered, "Okay, I think it's time I called it a night and poured myself into bed. Guess who just showed up?"

Celeste looked over and her eyes took on a look that only happened when that certain person was around. She stood, added a tip for the waiter, then said, "Come on, I'll get you home. Besides, I need to--."

"SHE'S FRIENDLY, DON'T WORRY!" The frantic shout caused both girls to turn as a streak of black and brown raced over and jumped onto Celeste, panting and licking the side of her face and ear before doing a turn and repeating the process on Elaine.

"Damn it, HAZEL! Wait, Hazel?"

The recipient of the name, a medium-sized dog with multiple heritage, all of them fighting or fast dogs, and German-Shepard coloring, looked over at her with the panting smile that was one of her two looks, the other being serious or 'sad puppy' look.

Celeste reached down to grab the leash just as Hazel jumped barking at the man who had been making his way over and growling as she did, baring teeth when a winded-looking girl with short hair raced up. "Sorry about—Celeste?"

"Sue, what is Hazel doing here? For that matter, what are you doing here?"

"I came here because it was a good vegetarian restaurant here, and I wanted to check it out. Hi Elaine."

"Hey. Wait, aren't you in Berkley or something?"

"Or something, and yeah. I just found out about this place. Isn't it cool? I mean, it defies about a few--."

"Sue, my head hurts from remembering what this place defies and I come here a few times when I'm allowed."

"So—allowed? What the hell? Didn't you just get to New York, what do you mean allowed?"

Hazel jumped again, not barking this time, as she pulled Celeste around in a circle while she jumped up to lick the newcomer's face—that of Illya Kuryakin.

"ACK!"

"Crap. Hazel, down! I said—DOWN!" a pull and Hazel was down, her tail wagging quickly as she looked up at Illya, who was rubbing the side of his face.

"Friend of yours, or the reason you licked my face earlier?"

"She's my dad's dog, and I'm drilling my sister as to why--."

"—you licked his face earlier."

"He didn't give me a sandwich."

Sue's eyebrows raised at the statement. "You've been in New York one day and you've licked a man's face because he didn't give you a sandwich? Are you okay?"

"It's a long story," Elaine said, "But speaking of those, where's your attachment?"

Celeste sighed as Sue gave her a look then glanced back at Celeste. "I don't know what you mean."

"David."

"Oh, him. We're...seeing other people."

Hazel whined as Celeste added in, "He pulled the 'me or your family' card again during Christmas and tried to say something about how I lived at the time."

"Celeste!"

"Elaine's almost my sister, and I...well..." she looked at Illya, "What are we, exactly?"

"I am not sure," he told her as Hazel seemed to get friendly with him while he tried to avoid her, "but we are more then acquaintances."

"Which means my life gets to be put out before them?"

Celeste looked up as she added in, "Elaine's got men problems and wants to put her life in mortal peril before being in Monty Python peril. Illya's a spy. Hazel is neutered. Now that everyone's love-life is out, can we change subjects?"

Sue stopped then held out her hand, "Suzanne Lancaster-Morin, Celeste's sister, but call me Sue. You are?"

"Illya Kuryakin, and as she said, things are...complicated."

Sue nodded then held out her hand to take Hazel's leash. "How late is it in New York?"

Elaine checked her watch then said, "Late enough. We need to get back. Besides, when you leave," she looked around and nodded in the appropriate direction, "he's going to come over."

Sue looked over and her face turned stony while Hazel growled again. "I see. Want me to sick Hazel on him?"

"You've turned violent, and no, thanks though," Celeste smiled at her sister, then said, "See you later, okay?"

"Okay, but explanations are going to be required at that point in time!"

With a nod, the trio left as Illya asked, "And who, exactly, is that man?"

"Bad news and not a topic we're discussing at this moment. Let's go."

Sue watched the group leaving and frowned. "That's the way out into the 1960's? Celeste, you have a lot to explain to me now!"

Hazel moved against the leash and Sue gave a smile. "Why not? Let's get a pass and see what we can find out for them, huh Hazel? You wanna go into the past to, don't you?"

Hazel gave a smile with her tongue hanging out as they went to find the right place so she could find out what her sister was doing that involved a blond spy with a slight Russian accent.

Elaine safely to bed, Celeste wasn't surprised to find Illya at the couch, obviously waiting for an explanation as to who it had been in the bar that made Hazel so upset. She sat next to him and said, "Go away, Illya."

"If he is causing you--."

"He isn't. I am. Now go away. I'm not discussing it."

Illya tilted his head to get a better look at her. "You are...emo."

"Seriously, out."

Illya sat back. "And you are also not very good at it."

"Elaine's got the monopoly, I'm supposed to be the happy one. But if you really have to know in order to get you out the door without using force or other means, then he is my ex-boyfriend and one of the main reasons I opted to drive cross-country after I left the Navy. He was stuck in San Diego and, if I was in New York or Maine or anywhere else, he couldn't bother me, right? Changing of phone numbers would be in order as well as changing address and being happy the family wouldn't give him the time of day or a drink of water in the desert. Hazel loves everyone, in case you didn't notice. The only two times any of us have seen her angry is in defense of us from strangers, and that's if we have bad feelings about them. Mom got upset over a visitor once, and he's the only man that Hazel snarled at, besides my ex."

"Who's name is?"

"Why, so you can change history or something? He's stuck in that bar and can't find me during the day. I'm not about to talk to him at all and I know how to use mace. Hell, I had to get sprayed with it to learn, you know how annoying that is?"

"Yes, but you are not listening to my questions."

Celeste stopped before telling him, "His name is Michael. He was onboard my ship and was good at wooing girls. I was his shipboard romance while he had a fiancée on the shore. Then he had another girlfriend on the ship and I dumped him. He tried to get me back after things moved too fast for his fiancée and she left for her home. Then his girlfriend got pregnant through her husband and left him. Then I left." She shrugged. "He sapped me into thinking he was a good guy. He wasn't. Wasn't that great of a lay, either—I've done—well...we'll leave it at I do better by myself then he does."

Illya waited then said, "Would me going with you there help?"

"It's not you, or Elaine, or Sue or even Hazel," she leaned forward. "I can't get it through my thick skull when he's around that he's just a loser. That he shouldn't mean that much to me still. Like I said, distance should've worked."

"What about friends?"

"Them too."

Illya nodded his understanding then told her, "If he does find you, I shall handle him."

"You don't have to."

"No, I do not, but I will anyway."

Celeste didn't say anything as Illya stood and left the room, leaving her with her thoughts and doubts.

"They did what?"

Sue waited as she heard about the fact that her sister and best friend had apparently helped save the club from disgrace.

"It was cool," the guy said, "and those spy-people they were with did well too. One of them was this dark-haired guy and he was suave. He ordered a lot of martini's with little vermouth and two onions--."

Trust a bartender to remember that...Sue thought as she got her ticket. "So where are they?"

"Huh? Oh, they would be at UNCLE HQ."

"Uncle who?"

"U.N.C.L.E. United Network Command of Law Enforcement. Spies meet cops. Go to Del Floria's and ask for her there, maybe they'll help you out."

"And how do I get to Del Floria's. For that matter, where and what is Del Floria's?"

Directions and an outfit for blending in later, Sue was out in New York during a summer morning and in search of her sister.

Back in the bar, the dirty-blond haired man walked up to say, "Hey, I'm Celeste Lancaster's boyfriend. I was wondering..."

Napoleon walked up and knocked on the door, waiting for someone to open it as he heard coughing and laughter from the other side. A short moment later, Elaine opened the door, frowning upon seeing him. "What?"

"I thought I would get a better reception then that," he said, looking in to where Celeste was giggling on the sofa while the line of the song came to his hearing. "I'm going to tell the world your rubbish now/ And that you're small in the game..."

"She needed cheering up," Elaine told him.

"Illya told me," Napoleon said, "Which is why I needed your help. I was going on a covert mission to get some more supplies for you two."

"We have a list, you know."

"Yes, but covert missions are more my style."

"You want to get her a present and make Illya give it to her?"

"Pretty much."

Elaine thought a moment, then yelled, "I'll be back. Napoleon needs me to help him out with something."

"REALLY?" the suggestive tone came through the music.

"Zachepi usta, beeotch."

"Tu callas, hembra!"

Elaine shut the door as Napoleon asked, "Why were you two yelling at each other like that?"

"Letting off steam. It happens. So, where are we going?"

Ethan let out a small smile as he saw his opportunity to take the girl. While he wanted to take the UNCLE man as well, he was sure it would cause him more pain to know that he failed to help this one that meant so much to him.

Doctor Dabree will be very pleased with him today.