A Promise and A Gift

It was the evening of January 4th. Illya walked up to his apartment door, shifted his bag of Chinese food to his left hand, reached with his right into his coat pocket and pulled out his key. Unlocking the door, he stepped through and reset his alarm system before relocking the door. Shrugging off his coat, he moved into his kitchen area, washed his hands, pulled a plate from the cupboard and proceeded to pull containers out of his bag and empty them onto the plate. Grabbing his fork, he went to sit at his table that functioned as his dining table and his desk. As he wolfed his dinner down, his eyes fell on his keychain and, not for the first time, his heart swelled with pride and emotion and his mind went back to Christmas Eve and that little box on his desk.

I cannot believe how close I came to embarrassing myself that day. I did not expect Napoleon to give me anything! When I saw my initials and 1st on the medallion and he explained, I almost cried. No one's ever given me a gift before. Crazy Amerikanski, giving a gift to a subordinate. He did not even seem to mind at all that I had nothing for him.

I had thought I would find something to give him the day after Christmas but, Mr. Waverly sent us to Minnesota Christmas Day to intercept that THRUSH shipment. Why is it always the so – called milk runs that end up being the most life threatening? I am still annoyed at my stupidity for being captured after detonating the truck carrying the shipment.

Illya shuddered at the memory. The leader of that satrap was furious at having his plans foiled and ever more enraged that I would not betray UNCLE. I knew my life was over when he told his minions to take me out back and shoot me. I could not believe my ears when I heard shots and explosions. When Napoleon burst through the doors and killed my captors, I could not have been more shocked.

Napoleon had managed to elude capture but, he just couldn't bring himself to leave the Russian behind. Instead, he figured out how to breach the satrap's security and turned himself into a one – man strike force. Once the guards were dead, he motioned for Illya to follow him. When they reached the exit, the Chief Enforcement Agent stopped to throw three incendiary devices back down the hallway and then took off at a dead run to catch up with his fleeing partner. The fireworks the resulting explosions caused were a sight to behold.

As the two of them watched from a safe distance, chests heaving trying to suck in air, Illya looked at his American partner and asked, "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you come back for me? You defied orders! Why would you do that? You are the CEA; you could have been killed! I'm expendable, we both know that!"

The Russian poured himself a glassful of vodka from the bottle he had pulled from his freezer. He took a deep swallow and reveled in the sensation of the fiery liquid moving down his throat to explode in his stomach. He refused to leave me, he thought. I still cannot believe it. He said, "The mission was complete and I saw a chance to save you so, I took it." The memory of that conversation made his eyes sting and threaten to spill tears. No one before him has ever cared if I lived or died.

His face burned with shame as he admitted to himself what he could never say out loud to his partner. If the situation had been reversed, Napoleon, I would have followed orders and left you to die. He stood up and walked to his window to look out at West 4th Street at some of his beloved jazz clubs that he frequented when he was home. He swallowed some more vodka and reached a decision. Napoleon, I swear, just like you did not leave me, I will not leave you. Ever. We will come home together dead or alive. He raised his glass to the ceiling and drank to seal the deal.

If I tell him that, he will order me not to take foolish chances but, I feel I must do something to let him know he is valuable to me. He turned back from the window and scanned his surroundings and the idea came to him. Perfect, he thought.

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

January 7th found the team of Kuryakin and Solo sitting in their shared office putting the finishing touches on their report for Mr. Waverly at the end of a long day that had included several meetings, Illya spending time in the lab and Napoleon reviewing the reports of five other teams involved in missions in North and South America. It was 7:30 when Napoleon signed off on his last report, stretched his arms over his head with a loud grunt and said, "I don't know about you, Illya, but I've had it. I'm going home."

Illya stopped working on his lab report. "Just a minute, Napoleon, I have something to give you." He opened his desk drawer and removed a small box wrapped in red paper with a silver bow that he placed on Napoleon's desk. He was blushing furiously when he said, "This is for you."

Napoleon's smile was blinding. "What is this, Illya? Christmas was last year."

"Today is Christmas in the Russian Orthodox Church, Napoleon so, Merry Christmas. I hope you like it."

Napoleon looked like he was about to say something and then, changed his mind. He tore open the gift-wrap and lifted the lid of the box. Inside was a keychain with a medallion and a key. When he picked it up, he noted that the medallion had "NS" on one side and "1st" on the other. He looked at Illya for an explanation.

The Russian looked down at his hands that he had folded on his desk like a schoolboy. "Napoleon, no one has ever given me a gift before and no one has ever come back for me when I was in trouble on a mission. You are the first to do both." He looked up at his partner and grinned. "To paraphrase you: I just thought if it means that much to me, it needs to be on a keychain that distinguishes it as something meaningful. The key is to my apartment. You know what my privacy means to me and I want you to know: You are welcome anytime, my friend."

Napoleon sat so long staring at the keychain, Illya started to think he had made a mistake and overstepped his bounds. Finally, the CEA cleared his throat and said, "Illya, I love it. Thank you and I promise, I will not abuse the privilege you've given me." He reached his hand over and waited for Illya to take it. "Thank you, Illya," he said as he shook hands vigorously, "Thank you so much."

Illya smiled, "You are welcome, Napoleon. Merry Christmas."