Napoleon Solo's yacht, The Independence, aptly named for the holiday, rocked gently as it was anchored in the dark waters of the Long Island Sound, giving a perfect view of the festive lights that burst above them up and down along the shoreline.
Luckily the movement of the boat wasn't bothering the Russian's stomach tonight as he sat on board with his son in his lap; their eyes cast upward to the sky in wonderment.
BOOM BOOM resounded, followed by a dozen snap-crackling spirals that filled the air.
They were so close that you could feel the concussion of the explosions as the wind carried the repeat in their direction.
Illya Kuryakin smiled, pleased that the loud noises delighted Demya instead of frightening him.
As a child the sounds of the war, the roar of the artillery in the distance never seemed to do that to Illya. Instead the noise intrigued him, he was always drawn to the feeling, the vibrations created by the firing of the big guns even though he knew they meant death and destruction.
He supposed that fascination was why he delved into ordnance so deeply when he became older. The Soviet Union took advantage of his interest in that area as did U.N.C.L.E. No matter though, it was a talent and those were such things that should be used and not wasted.
He wondered if his son had any leanings in that direction, but in truth; he hoped he did not. At least Demya would have the freedom of choosing his own path in life unlike his father.
"Ah look Demyachka, that was a nice one." he said pointing at the red white and blue colors that filled the night sky, then golden sparkles fell earthward like shooting stars drifting in slow motion.
"Ye aren't scared Demmy?" whispered his mother.
"I like booms mama, big booms." he giggled. "can we catch one of the sparkles?"
"Nyet, Demyachka, oni vygorayut i ne bolyi_no Demyachka, they burn out and are no more."
"Ah sure, ye are yer father's son." Elliott reached over pulling her husband's hand to her pregnant belly, letting him feel the baby kicking.
"Apparently another Kuryakin likes them too?" he smiled.
Napoleon sat with his arms wrapped around Bella, he too rubbing his hands gently against his wife's pregnant belly.
"No kicks here," he laughed," the Solos are sleeping peacefully. "
"That's a good sign," Bella smiled," calm children will be nice."
"And mine are not?" Illya quipped.
"Well they are Kuryakins?" Napoleon smiled.
"And they are Americanskii," Illya smiled back at his partner.
Another blast of fireworks illuminated the darkness, orange, red, silver and green; bringing another round of ewws and ahhhs from all of them.
"Happy Independence Day." Napoleon raised his Rheingold beer.
The others lifted their glasses as well, lemonade for the ladies, and Illya for a change of pace had a pilsner in his hand.
"Happy fourth of July," Illya added.
Happy Boom!" yelled Demya.
They all laughed as they enjoyed the unencumbered feeling of freedom that was a treasured rarity for them.
Illya looked at Napoleon and smiled. Two men. One raised in a life of privilege the other forced into a life not of his own choosing; both very different people, yet partners and friends. "We two brought together in this country with the desire to bring peace and freedom to the world and to keep it a safe place."
"America truly is a wonderful place." the Russian thought to himself.