CHAPTER ONE

Illya – All about Claire

Napoleon was staring at me. He was clearly in shock. His face had turned grey, and his eyes wide and wild.

"Wha…wha…did I hear you right? You're going to transfer out of section two? Why, Illya?"

I'd been dreading this moment. I had known I would have to tell my partner sooner or later, and I owed it to him to make it sooner. Neither would it have been fair for him to have heard it from anyone other than from me… but seeing his reaction…this was the hardest moment of my life I think. I wanted to run and hide from those pained eyes, but I couldn't put this moment off any longer. I ignored the somersaults in my gut and took a deep breath, praying that he would understand.

"It's the rules, Napoleon. I have no choice. I'm taking over as the head of science and development."

"Rules? Illya, I don't understand this. What are you not telling me?"

I swallowed a huge lump in my throat. This was a great deal harder than I had imagined. My heart was breaking at the expression on my partner's face; almost as if I was betraying him.

"It's Claire, Napoleon. We only had a couple of dates, but we both already knew it was special between us."

Claire Buchanan had moved into the apartment below mine several months earlier, and we hit it off right from the start. She was a very beautiful Scottish girl with thick wavy brown hair, and soft brown eyes that sparkled and laughed all the time. She was clever and kind. Her first reaction on learning that I am from the Soviet Union was to smile radiantly and ask me where can she buy herself a genuine ushanka? I must have looked surprised, because she had grinned at me and told me she loved winter hats and collected them. She then took me into her apartment and showed me her hat collection. She had 67 woolly winter hats, but not a ushanka among them. I gladly gave her one of mine.

She was one of those women that was easy to talk to, and asked many intelligent questions; not personal or probing in any way; but the kind that tend to give one an insight into your personality. Then I took her for a welcoming drink, and before I realized what was happening, we were getting very close. I immediately had apologized to her and explained that my job was such that personal relationships were impossible. Not really to my surprise, she took it well, thanked me for being honest and we continued to be friendly neighbours. Napoleon had known about her of course; he had even met her, but neither of us had mentioned her since Claire and I stopped seeing each other.

"I thought you two broke it off months ago."

I nodded.

"We did, but I dream about her every night, and each time I dream about her being with someone else, I wake up sweating and crying. Claire has been going through the same thing. Neither of us can stand it anymore, Napoleon. I just can't let her go. I love her more than I could have ever believed possible. She is the first person I have felt this strongly for since I lost Elinor."

I paused at that moment. I still feel the same pang of grief whenever I think of my beloved Elinor, and my little boy, Dimitry. I thought I spied a slight twinge of sympathy in his eyes. He had, after all, once been married himself, and lost her. He knew what that pain was like.

"Napoleon, I can't bear to live without her in my life…even if that means leaving you and section two. I'm so sorry that I am hurting you, Napoleon. Neither of us meant for this to happen, but I need her. I really want to marry her and grow old with her by my side."

Napoleon smiled warmly. I was almost fooled, but I know him very well, after all. I could still see the pain in his eyes. The look of hurt betrayal had abated somewhat, but the pain was still there. I noticed too that his hands were very slightly trembling.

"Claire said yes? Did you go down on one knee? All the works?"

I nodded, but I couldn't stop watching his face. He turned from grey to red, and then white. Whatever was on the suave surface, I was certain that my news had hit him like the proverbial ton of bricks. He took my hand and shook it vigorously…slightly too vigorously.

"I'm happy for you. Congratulations."

"Are you really, my friend?"

I could see that Napoleon was aware that I wasn't fooled. We had been partners for three years after all. We knew each other well…maybe too well by this time. His smile became bittersweet.

"Yes Illya, I am very happy for you. I am desperately unhappy for me, but I would love to see you truly happy. Have you chosen the day yet?"

"One month from Saturday."

"So I have you as my partner for just one month more?"

"Yes."

Now here was the crunch. The moment for him to not only accept my marriage, but put his own very public blessing on it. Would he be able to? To be honest, if our positions had been reversed, I might have found it a struggle. As it was, I had a little trouble getting up the courage to ask him.

"Um…Napoleon, I…would you…you are my best friend and I wanted to ask if you…that is…"

In spite of his feelings, Napoleon started to grin widely. I breathed deeply and tried again, managing to sputter out…

"Will you be my best man?"

This time his grin was real and genuine. He even looked pleased.

"Illya, I would be honoured. Will this be a traditional Russian wedding?"

I shook my head.

"I could not possibly afford that, and I could not possibly drop something like that on her parents. What we want is a very simple wedding like the one I once attended in England. The two of us with our closest friends at a registry office, followed by a meal at our favourite restaurant."

"Is Claire happy with that?"

I nodded, feeling my grin widen.

"It's what we both want. We did spend a lot of time talking about it. She asked about the Russian traditions, but the thought of the celebration lasting two days or more is a little too much even for Claire."

I took in his slightly withdrawn face, and my fears for him rose again.

"Are you going to be all right, Napoleon?"

Napoleon let out a noise that was obviously intended to be a laugh.

"Do you have that report for me by the way?"

I stared at him, momentarily floored by the sudden change of subject, and nodded.

"Uh, yes, it's down in the lab. I'll fetch it."

I suspect the change of topic was his way of getting me out of the way for a bit so that he could have a bit of space to come to terms with my news in his own way. I took my time returning to our office, and when I arrived, he had left me a note saying that he had gone down the block to the coffee shop if he was needed, and would be back in an hour.

I tried to imagine the thoughts that might have been going through his head. I knew what would have been in mine if I faced a future in the field without Napoleon to back me up. We knew how the other worked, we were able to combine operations almost without having to confer. We had an instinct where the other was concerned, and that, I guess, is how we had managed to stay alive so long. I couldn't help worrying about who my replacement might be and whether or not they would be up to the job of watching Napoleon's back. He is not the easiest man to protect, after all.

They say time flies when you are having fun, and for the next month, in between missions, my time was so taken up with my fiancée, buying outfits and making preparations, booking our honeymoon, that before we knew it the day itself had arrived.

I must say I'm not sure what I would have done without my partner. He decided that part of his wedding gift would be to splash out on the kind of wedding reception he felt we deserved, and he went ahead and booked a beautiful room at a local hotel, with silver service to go along with it. I was embarrassed and pleased at the same time, and tried to argue, but I hadn't the heart to really protest. If he was going to lose me, he told me, he was going to lose me in style. It meant we were able to invite all of Claire's relations who were living in the US.

That meant her two brothers Joel and Andrew, her younger sister Jeanie; her parents Max and Gloria, her grandparents Don and Sophia, her elderly uncle Jim and her closest friend from school Elaine who was to be her maid of honour. My guest list consisted solely of my closest friends, Napoleon, Mark, April and Mister and Mrs Waverly. Just eighteen people in all.

I must say my bride was stunning. She wore a period style gown in a beautiful ivory brocade fabric, her hair curled and piled loosely on her head with a tiara that set off her brown curls and her sparkling eyes. I felt pale by comparison, and nervous that this might all turn out to be some kind of a dream. Napoleon stayed right by my side where I needed him, and stepped back as my bride, my beautiful, wonderful Claire came up to stand beside me.

Then it was over. The registrar declared we were husband and wife, and Claire and I were kissing passionately, forgetting that we weren't alone. I tried to reassert my usual stern `ice prince' face, but Claire Kuryakin was having none of it. She pinched my bum, and grinned at me when I found myself blushing. We stepped together out of the building. The reception was just two blocks away, so Napoleon and I figured we would walk the two blocks, with Claire and I leading the way in a triumphal procession. My wife slipped her arm through mine and I squeezed with my elbow. She was mine now, my wonderful, darling Claire. She smiled her radiant smile at me again, and we started down the steps…

Suddenly, I was aware of a volley of shots coming from somewhere nearby, a lot of people screaming, and Claire loosened her hold on my arm. I looked round, for a crazy moment thinking she must have run for it, but everyone was on the ground. A second volley, and suddenly I was down, a searing pain on the side of my head. The last thing I saw as I lost consciousness was my beautiful bride lying on the ground at the foot of the steps, a large red stain covering the front of her lovely gown…