There was rarely a time that thoughts of his father did not drift into his head, though his papa had died long ago. He had the memories of a child of eight, yet they were wonderful recollections of being taught to use a rifle and to shoot, of hunting and doing things to maintain the their family dacha in Kyiv. He remembered his father's hands, large strong. They were gentle when disciplining, and even more gentle when giving comfort.
Yet sadly there was one memory that overshadowed all the others, and that was when he saw his father gunned down by Nazis that fateful night in a small clearing in Bykivnia forest. It was there papa whispered his last words of advice to stay invisible and telling him to run, those words had stayed with him, helping him to survive throughout his life.*
And now Illya Kuryakin looked at his own children, realizing what a better life they had, their world was very different from the one he had grown up in.
His life had been one of deprivation and survival, theirs was one of innocence and freedom. Somehow he felt the need to thank is own father for that. If Nicolaí had not taught him well, most likely Illya Kuryakin would not have lived very long, and his own children would never have come into existence.
There was no need to teach his son Demya to shoot and hunt as he and his little sister Lourdes Mary would know only the joys of childhood. Soon there would be another Kuryakin baby brought into the world, a world that was ever shifting, but still better than the one their father had.
Illya had always envisioned a sword of Damocles hanging over his head, it's origins in Russia as he was drawn into the world of espionage. There was a different sword that hung over the heads of his children, and the children of world and that was the threat of nuclear war. Perhaps it was more like a pall, always draped above them, ready to be dropped. Sadly it was between the country of Illya's birth, the Soviet Union and the United States, now his adopted country that were the source of this worry.
There was little he could do to prevent that tension from coming to a head. U.N.C.L.E. could not interfere in the politics of their member countries...it was just the opposite as it was the organisations place to stop outside forces from attempting to up the ante and try to get the two military giants from facing off.
As an agent Illya would continue to do as he was told and go where he was told to help maintain peace and status quo in the world, one that was now really belonged to his children.
Today was Father's Day, a holiday that was acknowledged in many countries, one of many holidays celebrated in America that he once pointed out overabundance of which to his partner. To the pragmatic Russian most of them seemed so inane.**
This particular holiday wasn't celebrated in Russia, there the closest thing to it was the celebration of Defender of the Fatherland Day, on February 23 rd. marking the day in 1918 when the first mass draft into the Red Army occurred in Petrograd and Moscow during the Russian Civil War.
It wasn't his first Father's Day, yet he still wasn't quite comfortable with the idea of it, and supposed he never would be. He did what he was supposed to do as a papa, loving, protecting and raising his children as best he could and wondered why he should be honored for that.
It was his his job as a father and felt that being honored for doing one's parental duty was so unnecessary, but still when his little son and daughter would surprise him with the cards they had fashioned for him, that would make him smile and forget questioning the holiday. The day was really more for them when it came down to it, and they so loved surprising him.
Their love was reward enough. Yet when the cards were given, the giggling, kissing and hugging done, Illya Kuryakin would disappear for a few minutes, looking upward to the heavens. whispering."Spasibo papa za svoyu zhiznʹ i zhiznʹ moikh detyeĭ. Ya lyublyu tebya_Thank you papa for my life and the lives of my children. I love you," as he remembered still to Honor Thy Father. That was something he didn't need a holiday to do.
.
Napoleon Solo accompanied by his wife Bella and their twin daughters Lucine and Appollonia had just finished lunch and had settled in on the veranda behind the Solo family compound in Long Island. There was idle chatter, but there was a definite feeling of tension in the air emanating from the patriarch of the family.
He was a retired army office and was not one for so-called 'holidays' as most of his career he'd been separated from his wife and offspring. Mother Solo would often remark to Napoleon on the side that it was a wonder she and his father had managed to conceive five children.
Nana, as Napoleon's mother insisted her granddaughters call her, was sitting with the twins on either side of her on a wicker love seat as they played with the sterling silver piggy banks they had just received as gifts from their cousin Amy, Theresa's daughter.
She had grown into a lovely young lady and was away at a private school in upstate New York and sent the gifts home knowing her little cousins would be visiting for Father's Day. With her parent's being divorced, her own father, a Captain in the army was stationed in Germany and she rarely saw him...or her galavanting mother for that matter. It was her grandmother that was the guiding light in her life and Uncle Napoleon who was her favorite.
Luci and Poly played with their new found toys as their father had put a few coins in the banks and they were shaking and rattling them to their delight. It was quite a racket, and it made making everyone but their grandfather smile.
None of Napoleon's sisters were present at the gathering and as usual, were off jet-setting somewhere around the world. He was happy to find out that his niece Amy would be home in another week, and a relief as she'd be there to keep mom company.
The senior Solo was not the most congenial or sociable of persons and was now in a foul mood because a certain Russian beauty, accompanied by Napoleon's brother Hannibal had arrived earlier.
Darius Solo's thoughts were rarely positive, "Bad enough it was this ridiculous Father's Day", but to have to put up with his younger son having brought to his home Anastasiya Ursari, cousin to Illya Kuryakin, that added fuel to the fire. He was virtually ignoring his little granddaughters, until the noise level they were creating with the piggy banks finally set him off.
"Will you control those children of yours Napoleon! Can't you teach them any discipline?"
"Dad, they're toddlers, not soldiers," he mumbled his reply.
Bella watched as that stray lock of hair on Napoleon's head worked itself loose, that often happened when he was becoming upset. She kept quiet, knowing better than to say anything to challenge her father-in-law. She was well aware of what he thought of her, and for that reason kept her conversation at a minimum, knowing her Italian temper as well as her Brooklyn upbringing were better kept under control. It was after all Father's Day and no need for a confrontation.
It was unfortunate that Anastasiya was having her first visit with the family and wasn't warned about Darius Solo other than the fact that he was described by Bella as a bit grouchy.
"Napoleon, pochemu tvoĭ otets tak razdrazhitelʹny_Napoleon, why is your father so irritable?" Anatasiya whispered innocently in Russian.
Before he could respond Darius Solo bellowed out at her. "Don't you dare speak that language in my presence. Bad enough both my sons have aligned themselves with Commies but I won't stand..."
"Enough Dad!" Napoleon barked. "Nothing I...we do or say will ever be good enough for you, will it? I could never measure up to Hannibal in your eyes, but now that he's got a Russian girlfriend, he doesn't measure up either does he? This should have been a nice Father's Day; we brought Luci and Poly to see their grandfather and you've wanted nothing to do with them. I've taken your nonsense for years, but I'll be damned if my children will be subjected to it too! No, this ends today!" His face was flushed with anger as he turned to his mother, picking the girls up. "Mom, I'm so sorry, but I can't do this anymore. You can see the girls whenever you want, just as long as he's not around."
His mother knew Napoleon was right about his father's behavior, as all these years she'd been the peacekeeper among the family, but even she knew her husband had gone too far. Her son was right, enough was enough...
Anastasiya stood up, taking a step toward Darius, pointing her finger at him. "There will come a day when you will be sorry that you have treated your family this way. And as far as my cousin Illya is concerned, he is honorable, a good husband and father unlike you, you pompous little man. You just cannot see a good thing when it is staring you in the face."
At those words Darius Solo raised his hand to slap Tasiya, but Hannibal stepped between them knocking over a pitcher of lemonade on the table as he grabbed his father's wrist.
"No you don't." He twisted the wrist, forcing is father to sit back down in the brown wicker chair, though Darius Solo was a strong man, he didn't resist.
"The commandment, Honor thy Father is the only thing keeping me from decking you right now Dad." Hannibal hissed.
"Hannibal stop." Napoleon ordered."Come on, I don't know about you but we're out of here. Mom, I love you." He said turning to her and kissing her the cheek as did his brother.
The two couples gathered up the twins who began to cry at their sudden departure, but not before Napoleon turned to his father as he bounced Poly in his arms trying to calm her. He spoke out sarcastically, "Happy Father's day, Dad. I hope you're happy. All our lives you've treated us like grunts, instead of your sons...well not any more. He gave his father a terse military salute, then turned away.
Darius remained in his chair until they were gone and as he rose, his wife confronted him as well.
"How could you do that to them? Napoleon is right, nothing they do will ever be good enough for you, will it General? She too walked away in disgust from her husband, going to the front of the house to see her little brood off.
Darius smiled, knowing he was in truth proud of both his boys, and today more than ever. Today was the day they both finally had the guts to stand up to him after all these years. It was indeed a happy Father's Day. His sons had learned the lesson he had failed to learn from their grandfather. He never stood up to his own father's bullying. Now he knew neither his sons would be the bastard he'd become.
Napoleon and Hannibal were better than that and better men than he was. Yes is was a happy Father's Day...
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* ref "Beginnings"
** ref "The Fat Tuesday Affair"