THE FORBIDDEN FRUIT AFFAIR
Introduction: 15 years after the Once Upon A Time Affair
His heart pounding, Illya Kuryakin knew he had to break the hold and come up for air. Immediately. He disentangled himself from her arms forcefully, and pulled his body back to the opposite end of the sofa.
"Illya, please…"
He could not look at her. So young. So very young, and vibrant, warm and sensitive, beautiful and brilliant. Heredity, he thought.
"Well, I'm certain that lowered your IQ by 50 points, coming after an old man like me."
"45 is not old," she protested.
"Neither is 20. We both know I am old enough to be your father."
"Don't talk," she pleaded softly, stretching across the empty space he'd created. "No distance between us—"
"You are aware your father could kill me in 57 different ways and never leave a trace?"
"My mother would never allow it."
"No, Clarissa would just invite me over for a cup of Earl Grey and stir in something excruciating and untraceable."
"Illya, please," she repeated.
"You really must go now, Kary. Good night." He had to push her gently toward the door.
Kary Solo turned back toward him, reluctant to leave. "I remember a night, dark and stormy. You were my only light, and you promised to hold my hand until I dreamed. I'm wide awake now, Illya, and in all this light, you are still the only thing I see. Remember that."
She kissed her fingertips, and pressed her hand to his cheek and was gone.
How did things get so complicated?
ACT I "A kiss is just a kiss…"
Illya Kuryakin was finally enjoying a patch of peace in his life.
When Napoleon could no longer dodge the UNCLE age policy (enforcement agents leave the field at age 40) he moved grumpily to the policy section. Illya, though younger than his partner, left too. It was unthinkable to entrust his life to anyone else. He happily returned to the lab, assiduously avoiding all supervisory status and the accompanying paper work. He had earned the independence of setting his own hours and agenda.
Clarissa Solo had returned to the lab part-time, and her young daughter Kary began to accompany her. They had all recognized the child' s promise in science, and she grew up as the unofficial mascot of the UNCLE labs. When Illya and Clarissa bounced ideas off each other, Kary often contributed unusually creative insights.
So no one was surprised when the twins separated at college: Kary to study chemistry at Columbia; Alex to Brown University for public policy training.
Kary had returned to the lab to retrieve a sweater she had forgotten earlier. She was not surprised to see light from under Illya's door, and in the spirit of scientific inquiry, she entered. He was hunched head and shoulders over his calculations and did not even look up when the door opened.
"About time, Stevenson," he growled. "Hand me the Lesley text." When he reached for the book he discovered it was not Stevenson.
"Kary-akin," she was a welcome sight. "Your mother's left for the day."
"Everyone has left for the day. Have you noticed it's after 8?"
"Oh, well" he shrugged. "Tempus fugit. I do get involved—"
She smiled indulgently. "I know. So what are you stewing over?" she inquired, automatically reaching for a lab coat and pinning up her hair.
"It's this bloody sequence…" and soon they were both buried in crumpled graph paper.
"I see what you mean, you're too close to quit now." She chewed her pen, thoughtfully. "What if we…"
Two hours later they achieved eureka. "I think—yes! Kary, look! It works!"
She studied his face. When she arrived, Illya had been wearing his world-weary look. Now, the delight of a triumphant child. Kary had been reading his face for years, feeling his moods as keenly as if they were her own. Simpatico, her father would call it. And lately, she was aware that her feelings were changing. It began as delicately as a fragrant peach blossom, and was ripening slowly into sweet heavy fruit ready for harvest.
In his excitement over the project's completion, he reached toward her to share a celebratory hug. But once she was in his arms, things perceptively changed. A barely audible groan escaped his throat, and he encircled her possessively. Kary did not stiffen, but flowed around him like liquid, warm and accepting. He held her as eternity ticked by, counting time by the beating of her heart against his.
The Kiss was inevitable.
ACT II Research & Development
Kuryakin was shaken to the core. "Kary, that was—inappropriate, unthinkable, and irresponsible. Forgive me."
She studied his eyes, read their depths, then pulled his lips back down to hers and kissed him thoroughly, warmly and tenderly.
He had faced death on the field many times, but this was the first time he yearned for it. It would be so right, to die in this perfect, savored moment, because life would never be this sweet again.
He could not speak, so she did. "Why do you think I never dated seriously? None of them were you. I had to wait for you to grow up," she smiled whimsically.
She seemed wise and womanly beyond her years, and she left the former enforcement agent confused and a little frightened.
"I have wanted your happiness since the first day I met you twenty years ago," he admitted. " I just never dreamed I could be part of it."
"That kiss was not an impulse or an error," Kary warned him." And I am not a child."
"Certainly not. I have always known you to be a thoughtful, serious, mature young lady."
"Ah, yes, the building blocks of pure passion."
He refused to be teased on this serious subject. "So, what do we do now? This is rather awkward. Perhaps we should advise your parents…"
"You're a scientist. You do not publish results until you do the research. Let's test this hypothesis first; spend some time together on a new level." she suggested.
"You mean like…date?" So adorable when he was flustered, she thought.
"Cute, and quaint. I'm a lucky gal."
"What, ah, would you like to do?"
"After twenty years, I think we have a pretty good relationship. We just need to add the kissing part."
"Kary, be serious.."
"I am very serious. And call me Kary-akin again…"
And Kary proved correct. They already had a strong basis of mutual interests. Illya insisted they start with some traditional courting, dinners and concerts. But it seemed so un-naturally formal to a couple who had grown up together. So Kary began dropping by his apartment after class, sometimes studying, sometimes preparing a light supper. She would be curled over the table, and he would be reading in his chair, and every so often they would gaze over at each other from across the room. Kary gave him the smile of a supremely contented and confident woman. Illya began to believe that just maybe, the impossible was not only possible, but predestined. This was a woman he could be comfortable sharing his life with.
It was a crisp, golden autumn afternoon. They strolled hand in hand through winding paths, and stopped to kiss beneath a scarlet maple tree that rained its leaves into their hair.
"I think the research is a success. On to Phase 2?" she suggested.
Kuryakin agreed. "Time to publish the results."
The first thing Kary did was to phone Brown University.
"Wow—during peak rate times? To what do I owe this honor?" her brother joked.
"Alexi, I need back-up."
While mirror opposites in temperament, Alex and Kary had cultivated that special twin bond that defied scientific understanding.
"I'm in love."
"Finally," Alex teased. "Congratulations!"
"It's complicated—"
"It's Illya." Alex said, without fear of contradiction.
"Yes, but—"
"I've known for ages. If you're honest, so have you. And I wouldn't be surprised if the old Russian bear himself…"
His twin interrupted. "You see the problem?"
"Incest?"
"Not even mildly amusing." Kary was beginning to regret confiding in him.
"So when have you scheduled the fireworks?" Alex asked more kindly.
"Sunday supper, if you can be there."
"Back-up on duty, Twinster."
ACT III Chemistry
"Well, Illya is a little late for the traditional Solo Sunday Supper, although it's always gratifying to be graced with the unexpected presence of our son and heir. What brings Young Alex all the way from Rhode Island?" Papa Solo pontificated.
"I heard we were having fireworks," Alex replied smartly, and at his father's confusion, his sister scowled.
"Daddy, I asked Illya to come a little later," Kary explained. " I have something to share."
"Good news, I hope?" Ah, Clarissa the Optimist.
"Oh, yes. Good news. Great news. Quite extraordinary news," Kary babbled.
Alex watched his sister flounder and jumped in. "About school, I bet."
"Yes, partly. I was invited to apply for senior year abroad, and I got the honorarium for chemistry at Cambridge."
"That's wonderful, Sweetheart," praised her father, with a hug and a peck. "Cambridge. That's Illya's old stomping ground. I'm sure he'll be thrilled."
"Will he ever!" Alex's eyes twinkled across the table. Kary kicked her brother under the table.
"I'm sure he'll write you a fine letter of introduction," Solo encouraged." I'm so glad I asked him to tutor you a little and bring up that German grade."
Kary took the plunge. "Actually, we've been seeing each other. Illya and I. Frequently. A lot." She cast eyes around the table seeking support, but all Alex did was give her a big thumbs up. It was Clarissa's quiet "oh, my," that signaled Kary that at least her mother grasped the situation. Why did men have to be so obtuse?
Kary made another attempt. "Daddy, Illya and I have grown very close."
"Of course," Solo agreed."He's family, you've known him all your life…"
"Please listen, Daddy-" now or never-" We are considering a future together. Illya and I-" Kary finished breathlessly.
Solo's stunned silence lasted only a moment. "My God…Caroline Constance Solo, you cannot be serious. It's impossible, incredible! How long has this been going on behind my back?" he railed.
"Daddy, you're not being very supportive—"
"No, by God, I am not!"
"This is Illya we are talking about, not some pot-smuggling stranger—"
"That's why it's so abominable… I trusted him—with you!"
"He's still the same person. And so am I," Kary insisted.
Clarissa tired to rescue the conversation with her serene, reasonable tone. "But, Darling, you're so young—"
"And he's so old!" Napoleon snapped.
Clarissa continued "—to make such a serious commitment."
This was not turning out at all the way Kary had hoped. "Who knows me better than Illya? Who could love me more?"
No one heard his discreet knock or noticed him enter.
"Hello, Nap-"
Solo stalked forward and calmly, deliberately, punched his best friend in the jaw with such force the smaller man reeled, then shook himself back to sensibility. The others were frozen in their chairs.
"Kary, please wait in the car," Illya said levelly. She rose without a word and closed the door behind her. Kuryakin refocused his attention to Solo. "I understand how—"
"No, you don't!" Solo interrupted him coldly. "You don't have a daughter. So you just helped yourself to mine!" He shook his head. "And I encouraged this. I thought she was safe with you." The betrayal was unimaginable
"I would never, never, do anything to hurt Kary, or to dishonor our friendship. You must believe that."
"It was a bad idea for you to come here tonight. I can't discuss this—situation—rationally. Not now. Maybe not ever," Solo admitted grimly.
"After all these years," the Russian said quietly, " who would have thought that the woman who could come between us would be your daughter? Good night, Napoleon."
Illya drove Kary back to her campus apartment. They sat in the parking lot, staring at the moon. Finally, Kary asked "Why did you send me out?"
Kuryakin gave her a half-smile that hurt his cheek. "Why did you go?"
"I've learned to respect your judgment. But I'm not a child, to be discussed in my absence—"
"That's not why, Kary-akin. Your father is a great man. I do not want you to have strained feelings because of me."
Kary pulled at his arm. "Come in, let me get you some ice for that bruise."
"No, it's late. Remember, 'lead me not into temptation'…"
"So you just want to sit in the car and neck? What about my reputation?"
"What about my reputation? Kuryakin—Vile Seducer of Schoolgirls."
"There's been no seduction—yet," she added meaningfully. "And—oh, I forgot…" she brandished the envelope under his nose. "Check out the postmark!"
"Kary! I am so proud of you, you've worked so hard for this. You are going to love Cambridge, it's—" then it dawned on him. "When? When do you leave?"
"Two weeks, it's supposed to be. But I'm not sure now if that's what I want…"
"It's a once in a lifetime opportunity," he admonished kindly.
"So are you," she said firmly. And then, an inspiration- "Come with me. You could transfer to the London lab. Don't put an ocean between us now…"
"Let's try that campus coffee shop. We need to talk."
After coffee-flavored kisses and tears, they came to an understanding about 2:40 a.m. Kary would attend the year in Cambridge. They agreed not to see each other during that time. When she returned to the states, they would discuss their future.
Then Illya drove Kary back to her parents' house. There was a light in the window, and hopefully reconciliation in their hearts.
He went back to his apartment. Alone again.
ACT IV Jingle Bells…
Kary was openly crying now, clinging to him, heedless of the crowds parting around them. "I know I agreed to this, but I don't think I'm strong enough…"
"We will come through this," Kuryakin assured her, "strong and together. Just a temporary separation, for the sake of all the years ahead." He lifted up her chin. "I am confident you write eloquent letters."
She sniffed. "Then prepare yourself for the most prolific and poetic correspondence since Barrett met Browning."
Illya tugged off his worn gold ring, placed it in her hand, and closed her fingers around it. "Now it's official. We're going steady." He kissed her nose playfully. It was her first smile of their last morning.
Kuryakin watched the take-off at the gate, then just stood and stared at the empty sky.
"You don't need to duck," Napoleon said as he came up behind him.
"And you don't need to worry," Kuryakin said sadly. "It's a year. She'll fall in love with Cambridge, with her work, and who knows who else…"
"My daughter is not fickle. Her middle name is Constance, after all." The next words were more difficult. "I had to admit to myself that if it were anyone else's daughter, I'd be very happy for you both. Of course, I will be compelled to kill you if you hurt her."
"Understood."
"And I told her the same thing when she left this morning." He cleared his throat. "Only 118 more shopping days 'til Christmas. I hear a Victorian holiday in London is quite charming."
The blond shook his head. "The agreement is one year."
"Stubborn Russian. I suppose I will have to assign you over there. You have no objection to pulling holiday duty?"
"I would not refuse an assignment."
"Provided, of course, that this particular mission remain top secret 'til December 24," the CEA insisted.
"Of course."
Solo held out his hand. "Merry Christmas, Partner."
"Merry Christmas, Santa Solo."
finis