author's note:This story is takes place nine months after "The Mind Control Affair" and is a continuation of an on-going series of tales that are linked to Illya Kuryakin and people that have crossed his path. Again, just borrowing the men from UNCLE for fun, and not profiit.
"The East Berlin Affair"
Napoleon and Illya sat together in the office they shared at headquarters, both leaning on their desks, dog-tired; as they had just completed their fifth assignment in less than three weeks. They had not been difficult missions and most of them were "milk runs," but it was the travel time and jet lag that was catching up with the two agents.
"If I did not know any better I would say that you and I are being given busy work...these assignments really did not require the attention of a section two agent, much less both us?" Illya mumbled, as he slipped a piece of paper into the roller of the typewriter on his desk...that was as far as he got.
Solo glanced over at him." I know how you feel, I'm so tired I even cancelled a date tonight with Dolores from communications," he sighed.
"Napoleon, I have barely seen Elliott since our returning from Hawaii...I find it odd now that I think about."
"What's odd?"
"Prior to my assignment in Australia, Elliott and I had more than sufficient time available to spend together...now it seems there has been little or no time for us to see each other at all. When I am on assignment, she is not and when I am here, she is not. It has happened to so frequently that it almost seems as if there has been a deliberate hand in keeping us apart."
"Illya, that sounds just a little paranoid to me? Maybe it's just your over-tired imagination getting the better of you. I've been just as busy as you are and believe me, it's been cutting into my social life too!"
"I suppose you are right," said Kuryakin. " Paranoid...yes, but we are both that...comes with the territory, does it not? But that imaginative...I am not, though Elliott seems to think I have one lurking up here somewhere." he smiled, tapping his forehead with his index finger.
"I know I have becoming a bit forgetful as of late... there is something that I have been meaning to tell you. Elliott and I are planning to move in together." The Russian attempted to hide it, but he smiled ever so slightly.
"Whoa..Really?" Napoleon grinned at his partner, then sobered instantly," Please don't take this the wrong way, but is that such a good idea?"
"Yes I, no... correction, we think it is. Elliott and I are very much in love" Illya admitted shyly..."I think you have guessed by now. I have been staying at her place almost every night when home, so it made sense to me that we move in together... I asked her and she agreed."
"All we can do is live in the moment...living for today and not thinking about tomorrow and enjoy what time we have together. In our line of work, we do not have the luxury of planning for the future. This I think is a good compromise for the both of us."
Napoleon Solo was shocked...it was one of the most intimate and personal conversations that Illya Kuryakin ever had with him...
"If some one would have told me that Illya Kuryakin had fallen in love with a crazy red head and was going to "live in sin" with her ; I would have asked them what lunatic asylum they had escaped from?" said Napoleon." But my friend, more power to the both of you...I hope you can make it work, it's not going to be easy. And you do know Waverly's going to find out eventually." Solo cautioned,"What will you do then?
"And I would have been the first to agree with you; I never saw myself being with a woman in this way. It just goes to prove the unpredictability of our lives. I came to the realization that I should not let go of a good thing once I became fortunate enough to have it or rather her, cross my path." the Russian said happily. "And we will worry about the "old man" when that hurdle is reached."
"Good for you!" Napoleon said. He was happy for his partner but deep down inside he was feeling a bit blue, as his thoughts drifted to Clara and what might have been. She was the woman he once loved enough to want to marry, but it was his devotion to duty and UNCLE that destroyed their relationship and drove Clara away. It was just the opposite for his partner as it was UNCLE that brought he and Elliott together and their both being agents helped solidify the relationship.
In spite of having all the companionship he could ever want, Napoleon often found himself lonely. He enjoyed being around women thoroughly, and found them fascinating. But it was the loneliness that made him constantly seek out their companionship. He needed them to ground him to something real...something human. There was a void inside him left by Clara that needed to be filled.
His work was a double edged sword that always dangled above his head; driving him from having the "normal" life that at times he longed for; yet drawing him to the thrill of the challenges that faced him every time he went into the field.
He had become very accustomed to partner being around...the man having once joked "at least we have each other." At the time the remark annoyed him, but now he realized what Illya had said hit the mark.
Solo unknowingly became spoiled by the fact that his partner and best friend had always been there for him, whether it was saving his life countless times, as he had done for the Russian or going out after a tough assignment getting drunk together.
There were times that were practically joined at the hip both at work and play. Solo hid his sadness quite well behind his smile and the ever optimistic outlook that he put forward to the rest of the world to see. But it was his friendship with Illya Kuryakin that helped ease the loneliness most of all and he suspected his partner understood that.
And now the loneliness began to become omnipresent again as his friend was spending most of his free time with Elliott McGowan. He missed his partner but realized that life was moving forward just as it should and this was one change he'd have to accept.
Napoleon was not jealous, but he found himself just the slightest bit envious that someone else now had his friend's attention, as well as of the companionship that his stoic Russian had found, even though it was very well deserved.
"So when are you two going to make the move...and where to?"
"We have wanted to do it for some time...but with our schedules conflicting so drastically; it has made it impossible for us to move her things just a few blocks over to our building, as my apartment has more room than Elliott's place. The only furniture she she plans to bring with her is the bed...and I must admit I am happy about that, as it is the most comfortable mattress I have ever slept on."
"Is it the mattress or with whom you're sleeping that's making you happy?" Napoleon smiled at him.
"Maybe a little of both?" Illya blushed.
"Well if you need help let me know; I am at your service." Solo checked the time on his wristwatch."Hey what say we blow this place and go out for a bite to eat and a couple of drinks. we haven't done that in quite a while."
"Blow up headquarters?" the Russian asked in confusion.
Solo chuckled. "Illya, as well educated as you are, it amazes me after all these years that you still don't get some American colloquialisms..."blow this place" means to leave!"
"Then why did you not just say that?" said lllya" I thought you were referring to an explosive device of some sort. I know you are tired of UNCLE right now...but I did not think it was enough to want to blow it up?"
Napoleon shook his head. "Illya...I swear, you hear the word "blow" and your mind goes right to thinking of bombs! Maybe you are over-worked?"
"Napoleon, "Illya smirked." there is a much more pleasant experience that I can think of to associate with that word...but that can be rather explosive as well."
"Ha! "Solo let out a laugh" You dirty dog... you're getting slang better than I thought you were! So come on...let's go eat. Capise?" he asked Illya if he understood now, speaking Italian.
"Sì, ho capito, signore!" Illya acknowledged,"but only if we are not too late as Elliott will be home this evening. I have not seen her in over a week and we are both off tomorrow."
Not a problem, by the way your accent is improving," Solo quipped, knowing it would irk his friend.
"There is nothing wrong with my accent?"
Solo laughed..."be careful, you're getting predictable."
"Pardon me?" said Illya," what does your insulting my accent have to do with predictability... and this affront coming from you who has a French accent that remains quite awful?"
"You know what?" Napoleon rolled his eyes," Never mind...let's go."
The two agents left through the agents entrance and Del Floria's, getting into Napoleon's silver convertible parked out front and headed over to East 44th and Vanderbilt to Napoleon's current favorite restaurant " La Fonda del Sol," The Inn of the Sun.
Solo liked it not just for it's authentic Latin American cuisine, but for the lovely Latin beauties dressed in their brightly colored skirts and white peasant blouses who were employed there as waitresses.
The restaurant with its large columns overlaid with brick-patterned stainless steel, combined with a large canopy that hung in the center of the room, with its alternating panels of white and burgundy cloth delicately embroidered with bright floral patterns typical of Latino designs, gave the place an strange mix of contemporary and traditional decor. The food and the atmosphere were a refreshing change from the usual, Chinese and Italian restaurants the agents frequented.
The olive-skinned hostess with her peasant blouse slipping just off her shoulders smiled brightly, greeting the two men.
"Napoleón la bienvenida de nueva_welcome back...it has been a while since you have been here...all the ladies have been missing you!"
"Gracias Consuela," he flashed that smile of his and Illya swore the woman began to melt like butter. "this is my friend Mr. Kuryakin"
"Buenos noches,Señor." She smiled at Illya, but only had eyes for Solo.
"Your usual table?"
"But of course my dear," he nodded to her.
A bus boy, attired in a short gold gaucho jacket with embroiderd trim, and black trousers quickly filled their water glasses as the two men were seated at their table.
Napoleon ordered the house drink called a Pisco Sour made of pisco brandy, lime sugar and egg whites...shaken until the egg whites poured to a frothy white head. He preferred his with a little dash of bitters.
Illya passed on the drink thinking it looked too decadent and opted for a glass of Mosto Verde straight up, which was actually a much more expensive pisco.
The two ordered a meal of cerviche de lagostinos, papa a la Huancaína, and anitchuros de Pollo... a spicy shrimp salad with onions and red peppers, cold sliced potatoes with spicy cheese, hard boiled eggs and black olives over lettuce, and as a main course grilled smoked chicken skewers flavored with garlic, cumin and red chile peppers.
The food arrived and the began to eat, quietly enjoying it, but halfway through their meal they heard a familiar voice.
" Hello darlings"...it was Angelique.
"There goes my appetite." Illya mumbled, pushing his plate away from him. He detested the woman and resented the bizarre relationship that she a Thrush agent and his partner had.
"Illya I don't understand why you dislike me so?" she purred.
"Oh that is definitely not the word I would use." he answered, cutting right to the chase,"To what do we owe the displeasure of your company?"
The sultry blond agent ignored him and stood staring down at Solo.
"Well aren't you going to offer me a chair Napoleon? she pouted.
Solo rose offering her his seat, then pulled one from another table for himself, positioning it close to her.
Angelique took a cigarette from her small clutch bag and Solo instantly produced a Zippo lighter from his pocket, assisting her.
"Napoleon..I have some information for you about a case that UNCLE has been investigating, it is in regards to recent disappearances of top intelligence personnel...listen darling, it's not Thrush that's doing it, nor is it KGB, Stasi or any other organization that I know of. It is rumoured that it's someone independent who's being so naughty. The kidnapped agents are going to be offered up for sale to the highest bidder...brilliant idea actually," she mused, "I wish I'd thought of it myself."
"Really," Napoleon smiled at her seductively," and why this sudden generosity on your part?"
"Because my dearest...some of our people have disappeared as well...apparently we now have a common enemy, so to speak. I say we declare a truce...and see what we can do together?" she ran a polished finger nail along Solo's cheek, then suddenly looked at her gold wristwatch," I must be off now. "Bis später dan_ until later then, Napoleon? She spoke in German.
"Ganz gewiss_ most assuredly," Napoleon answered, kissing her hand.
Angelique disappeared from sight as Illya sat giving his partner a look of disapproval.
"Stop scowling at me?" Napoleon said.
"I do not trust that woman...she is Thrush. Napoleon, how you can sleep with her; I will never understand!" said Kuryakin." Has she not tried to kill you on several occasions?"
"I'm still here aren't I?" Napoleon grinned at his concerned partner." Look, we better get this wrapped up to go." he looked at his watch checking the time. "I'm going back to head quarters to look into this..."
"I will go with you."
"No...you go home. I believe you said Elliott should be back by now?
"I really should go with you to headquarters." Illya protested.
"No argument...at least you have someone to go home to. Just do it, go... live in the moment! I'm senior agent and I'm ordering you to do it."
He could see the gratitude in his friend's blue eyes as the man thanked him.
Napoleon paid the bill. Illya paid the tip, then the two of them parted ways for the evening. Illya went straight to Elliott's apartment, entering quietly.
The couple had become accustomed to each others comings and goings that codes were no longer needed. Though if Elliott was asleep when he arrived, he would whisper "Annushka" and the words in Russian..."my beloved" to alert her to his presence.
The lights were on when he walked in at nearly midnight, but at first there was no sign of Elliott; he finally located her laying on the bed, fully clothed with an ice bag on her head.
"Elliott? Are you alright?"
"Hi" she whispered," I have a fierce headache...can't get it to go away."
Illya knelt on the bed beside her, removing the ice pack; he began gently massaging her temples with the tips of his fingers, then he switched to the soft spot on her hand, a pressure point between the thumb and index finger.
"Mmmm." she moaned" that feels good." Elliott drifted off to sleep and Illya undressed her carefully, covering her with the blanket. He changed into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt then climbed into bed with her, and fell asleep instantly.
They were woken by the sound of Illya's communicator chirping at six in the morning...Sunday; they should have had the entire day to spend together in peace, but apparently that was not meant to be.
Elliott grabbed the pen from the night stand and flung it into the air but Illya reached out, catching it in mid flight.
"Nice try" he said, then answered it wearily, "Kuryakin here."
"Sorry to call you on your day off," said Napoleon," I spoke to Waverly. Looks like we have a new assignment. Apparently Angelique was on the up and up. There have been numerous disappearances of operatives from dozens of countries all across the globe, not just Europe.
"This is Angelique's fault" Illya said rubbing the sleep from his eyes," and why is it we are hearing about this from a Thrush agent and not UNCLE?"
"Now don't we be mean-spirited...gather up Elliott and we'll have some breakfast together and I'll fill you in. You and I are on a flight to Germany tonight, heading to Berlin to be precise.
"So did you suddenly find the energy to see her last night?"
Napoleon's silence answered that question for the Russian. "How about we skip breakfast then and you just fill me in on the assignment now...I want a little private time as well if you do not mind?"
"Alright, I'll give you that...it seems the individual countries involved were doing their own investigations...until a C.I.A. operative went missing last night. Waverly had the case file on his desk when I went to see him...up until now, the Berlin office has been handling the investigation keeping it somewhat detached... by the way, your friend Harry Beldon transferred there five months ago. We can go over more details on the drive to the airport; I'll pick you up at Elliott's at six o'clock...sound like a plan?"
"Yes...thanks. Kuryakin out."
Illya and Elliott remained in bed together, making love at last, though Elliott's headache returned afterwards. She wasn't feeling well and like her lover; was just a little burned out from their frequency of assignments.
Illya made her breakfast and they ate together in bed, then finally when she was feeling a little better in the afternoon; they decided to picnic at their favorite spot in Central Park as it was a beautiful sunny day.
"I wish we could get some time off,"said Elliott."I don't know about ye, but Waverly's been wearing me thin with some pretty tough missions."
The two agents made a point of never discussing the details of their missions.
"Really? Ours have been simple and somewhat tedious and it seems to me they could have been done by any section three agent." he suddenly reached out grabbing and tickling Elliott."So it is you who have been stealing all the good assignments!" He rolled her over making her laugh until he was on top of her, then lowered himself to give her a quick kiss." It is so good to be with you at last..."he spoke softly to her.
"Doesn't it seem a coincidence that ye and I are rarely here at the same time...why is that? It never used to be that way?" she said, "It's strange, almost like someone has thrown a switch turning our lives off and on?"
Illya pushed himself up, reaching into the basket for another chicken leg. "I thought that myself" he said as he began to munch on the drumstick.
"Ah, sure it's just a coincidence, after all the bad guys don't exactly schedule their ativities around us do they?"
After finishing lunch, the two leaned up against their familiar oak tree engaging in some good old fashioned "necking."
Elliott seemed uneasy to him, though he put it off to the separation and exhaustion they had both been experiencing. Elliott lay with her head resting on his chest as he held her in his arms, making her feel warm and safe.
But she was apprehensive and she was sure that Illya sensed it. There was something important that she needed to tell him and was waiting for the right moment to do so.
Their privacy was interrupted again by the sound of Illya's communicator and he opened it with a little growl "Kuryakin," he answered with annoyance in his voice.
"Sorry old chum." said Napoleon timetable change. Our flight to Berlin has been moved up...I'll pick you up in an hour."
"Der'mo_shit," Illya cursed under his breath in Russian.
"Here we go again," Elliott said wearily, sighing and opting to wait to have her talk with Illya. They gathered up their basket and blanket and headed back to Elliott's apartment.
Illya had enough clothes and a travel kit there to pack for the trip and he laid everything out on the bed before folding it neatly and into the suitcase. He checked his special then slipped it into it's shoulder holster, then put on his suit jacket, carrying the case out of the bedroom; he set it down next to the door. Napoleon would be there in a few minutes.
Elliott was not happy as he turned wrapping his arms around her, giving her a long kiss goodbye. He whispered to her in Russian..."I love you," sensing her mood, he then whispered, "it will get better."
He picked up his suitcase and disappeared out the door and Elliott watched from the window as he climbed into the yellow taxi with Napoleon, not taking her eyes off it until it drove out of view.
"Berlin'...she she hated that city with "The Wall" that was like a hideous scar across Germany; a concrete symbol of the iron curtain... Eiserner Vorhang in German, Nar Zheleznji in Russian, Zelezna' Opona in Czech, Vasfüggöny in Hungarian...Cortina de ferro in Italian... A term used by many before the wall was ever built, dating back in antiquity to the Babylonian Talmud referring to "mchitz shel barzel", an iron curtain.
It was an impenetrable barrier envisioned by Stalin and symbolized the "cold war," a war that involved no weaponry and warfare, but words and ideas. And her Illuysha was heading into that world of lies, spies and treachery...too close to his former Soviet masters for comfort.
"They should have talked before he left." she thought now regretting they had not.