He looked at the report and shuddered inwardly at the implications. Illya Kuryakin was accustomed to bad things, bad people … bad news. What he wasn't ready to hear was the shocking announcement contained in the file in front of him.
"I assure you, Mr. Kuryakin, that his departure was just as much a surprise to me as it … ahh, appears to be to you.'
Alexander Waverly had an inkling of the impact this news was making on the younger man. The Russian had spent the better part of the last ten years risking his life alongside the man whose resignation he was now reading.
Illya could barely believe what the document stated. Napoleon Solo had resigned from UNCLE, was gone… His partner was gone.
"I was aware of some uncertainties in his … his plans for the future. I did not anticipate this, however."
The blond didn't look up as he spoke, his eyes were glued to the print in front of him.
I, Napoleon Solo, am tendering my resignation from the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement, effective immediately.
It was signed and dated, with nothing else to signify the unbelievable document. Napoleon hadn't finalized his plans with his partner, nor had he said goodbye. Illya was still trying to fathom this untenable situation; Waverly was saying something, but the words seemed garbled, incomprehensible to the stunned agent.
"I apologize sir, I didn't …'
Illya caught the sympathetic expression on his superior's face, the shared discomfiture of the situation. After years of saving each other's lives and skirting the rules in order to do so, one of them was gone without a word to the remaining partner. He wasn't dead, he was simply gone.
"Did he leave a forwarding address or … anything?"
Waverly shook his head. Mr. Solo had made it very clear that he would be out of touch for an indefinite period of time. He had said he needed time.
"He was rather vague, I'm afraid.'
Kuryakin looked lost, something that made the old man have a twinge of something not easily defined. It reminded Waverly of the young Soviet when he first arrived in New York, alone and slightly bewildered in spite of his bravado.
"You can, of course, choose someone new to work with, Mr. Kuryakin."
Illya looked up at that. A new partner? What would be the point in that?
"Thank you, sir, but I think going out …' He had almost said solo…
"I believe I should prefer to work alone, sir."
Both men sighed, a sort of resignation that life must continue, the world must still be saved.
"Very well, then. Mr. Kuryakin?"
Illya was standing and he looked back now at Waverly.
"Yes sir?"
What had he intended to say? Alexander Waverly felt at a loss in this situation. The Russian, the prize of Waverly's détente, stood alone where once he had stood shoulder to shoulder with a trusted partner.
"Nothing. I believe it has … slipped my mind. Good day, Mr. Kuryakin."
"Good day, sir."
Illya turned to walk once more through the whispering doors, but never again in the company of his friend.