Napoleon Solo sauntered into his office, feeling pretty chipper. It was the first day of December and for some reason THRUSH seemed to always lay off on their usual schemes and take a Christmas vacation for the month, he imagined after all, they had families too. That thought sent him into wondering what life with a man or woman from THRUSH would be like?"
A little dialogue came to mind, making him chuckle. "Hi honey, how was your day today? Did you conquer the world yet? No? The big bad man from UNCLE ruined your plans again. Oh let mommy make you feel better... poor thing, don't cry."
He stopped dead in his tracks as the office doors opened, seeing a rather large potted plant...no a tree, sitting on top of his desk. As he walked over to it, he realized there was a bird sitting on one of the branches.
He stared at it, and the bird stared back at him, spreading its tail feathers and suddenly flapping its wings, making a low hollow thumping sound that increased with the speed of its wings.
"What the hell is this?" He turned to his partner who was sitting in silence, wearing his reading glasses as he looked over a report.
"Is it not obvious?" Illya peered over the top of his glasses, "It is a partridge in a pear tree, and from the actions of the bird, he is quite enamored of you as he just performed his mating ritual." The Russian tried not to smile.
Napoleon looked back at the tree and the bird, now noticing little pears tied to the branches.
"Is this some kind of joke Illya...did you do this?"
"I cannot tell a lie, it was not me. It was sitting on your desk when I came in this morning, quite early as a matter of fact.
"Oh great, a secret admirer," Napoleon scrunched up his face as the bird let go some droppings on his desk blotter. He reached to the bird, pointing his finger at it. "We'll have none of that if you please." The bird bit him.
Illya let out a little snicker.
"Owww, dammit, and stop laughing," Napoleon cursed, holding his finger. He flicked the switch to the intercom on his desk, calling the secretary.
"Eileen?"
"Good morning Napoleon."
"Do you know anything about this thing on my desk?'
"Oh the partridge in a pear tree. It was there when I came in...no card on it and I have no clue who dropped it off. I just figured it was a Christmas gift from an admirer."
"Oh, all right. Could you please get it out of here, I have some work to catch up on, and if you could bring me a new desk blotter? Thanks."
The offending gift was removed, all was right with the world and the partners worked on catching up on reports that were long overdue. That was a good thing about December, lots of catch up time...especially for Napoleon. He needed it as his dating schedule for the month was at record capacity, given he had so much free time on his hands thanks to THRUSH cutting back on their activities.
At noontime on December 2nd the partners disappeared to the commissary for a quick bite to eat, but it became a longer lunch than expected as they were serving turkey with all the trimmings, with pecan pie and pumpkin pie for dessert. Illya was in his glory, going back for seconds.
Napoleon figured who was he to come between the Russian and his one and only indulgence, not counting explosives that is.
Illya never spoke of his childhood, much less his past in the Soviet Union, and Napoleon took a guess that Illya's appetite might be his way making up for lost time. To his knowledge, life in Soviet Russia was a terrible hardship during the war, and he knew of the great purges of Stalin from history. Ukrainians were starved to death, but then again Illya was a Russian in the Ukraine and that's what may have helped to protect him. There were so many unanswered questions about his past that Napoleon didn't know where to begin; not that Illya would answer them truthfully if at all.
A few Christmases ago in Paris, Illya opened up about his family letting it be known they were all dead, and then of course there was his grandfather's pocket watch and mothers letter.* That was truly a Christmas miracle, but now Illya seemed as uninterested in Christmas as he'd always been. Sure, they'd exchange gifts but he never seemed to get into the spirit of the holiday, but maybe that was just him. Illya Kuryakin was a man of few words in general, unless it involved a discussion on something that had caught his interest, then the conversation would transform into a long winded lecture of sorts. He was somewhat predictable at least in that respect.
They returned to their office after lunch, intending to finish up work early. Napoleon had a date, and Illya, well,l he had no plans or so he said, again he was close-mouthed about those sort of things as well.
The door opened silently, and suddenly something flew in front of Napoleon's face, making him automatically draw his weapon, but it was the hand of his partner that stopped him.
"Look it is a bird...no two birds," Illya pointed out.
They watched as they alighted on a perch sitting atop Solo's desk.
"Don't tell me, two turtle doves," Napoleon grumbled.
He called the secretary asking who brought them in, and as before, she had no idea.
The offending creatures were removed and the blotter replaced, again.
"You may want to have another desk blotter handy my friend," Illya sniggered, "If the pattern of the song continues, you should expect three french hens. Hmmm, perhaps you might want to spread some newspaper on the floor."
"Knock it off wiseguy. I'm going to Security to get to the bottom of this. They'll have tapes of who ever has been dropping off these so-called gifts." Napoleon abandoned his partner, heading directly to the Security office, only to be disappointed.
"Gee I'm sorry Mr. Solo," the agent in charge told him. "The cameras are down for maintenance in that corridor."
"And when exactly do you plan for them to be up again," he tried to ask politely.
"To be honest we're not sure. We've been having some electrical difficulties and at this point we may have to strip the old wiring and install new ones. Right now we're checking all the circuits and wires and that has to be done in the evening as we can't block off the corridor during peak hours. There's a couple of other corridors that are having he same problem. I think the whole system is really in need of an overhaul if you ask me, but then again I'm not an electrician."
"Thank you, " Napoleon replied curtly, leaving and returning to his office.
"Any luck?" Illya asked, without looking up, as his nose was buried in a scientific journal.
"Would you believe the cameras are down?"
"That is rather convenient, and suspicious as not everyone would be privy to that information. Perhaps your secret admirer is a member of Security?" Have you dated anyone from that Section recently?"
"No, I steer clear of Section V, the women there are a bit on the tough side for my taste. I wouldn't want to be roughed up by one of them...as I sort of like being in control, if you get my drift?" He smiled.
"Too much information Napoleon, it is bad enough I have to listen to your exploits, I do not need to know any more details on your sexual preferences, thank you."
Napoleon huffed at that response, and again set about working on his reports, but all the while racking his brain for anyone who could be doing this.
December 3rd found three porcelain figures of hens and a small replica of the Eiffel tower on Solo's desk. That was at least a relief to Napoleon as he picked up the newspaper he'd spread on the floor.
On the 4th, there was a birdcage on his desk with two pair of blackbirds cawing rather loudly.
"Hey I thought they were supposed to be 'calling' birds," Napoleon complained.
"You are thinking of the Americanization of the original lyrics of 'four colly birds'. Colly is vernacular, meaning black and refers to the European blackbird Turdus merula."
The racket made by the Turdus merula could be heard all the way down the hall as they were taken away by Security.
December 5th, found Illya playing with five golden magicians rings stacked nicely on his partners desk.
"This is a rather clever one," he said, picking them up as individual rings, then after manipulating them, they were all linked together. With a one-two-three flick of his hands, and they were back to being separated.
"That was pretty good, where'd you learn that?" Napoleon smiled.
"When serving for many long months on board a submarine, one learns to amuse oneself with some of the most unusual things. I picked up a few magic tricks, that is all."
Illya spent the afternoon trying to teach his friend how to do the sleight of hand but without success.
December 6th arrived, with nothing found in the office that morning. Both agents had an afternoon meeting with Mr. Waverly and when they returned there were six toy geese on Napoleons desk and when pressed down they laid candy eggs. Again Napoleon cleaned up more newspaper from the floor.
These unwanted gifts by this unknown admirer were starting to disrupt Napoleon's dating schedule; he began cancelling his appointments one by one as he wasn't sleeping well. He kept dreaming of partridges, doves, and chickens while his mind was spinning, trying to figure out who this person could be.
"This has gone far enough, " he said, "Illya, I want you to set up a separate security camera here, so we can see who exactly is doing this.
Illya did as he was asked, mounting a small surveillance camera on the wall opposite the door, giving them a direct view of whomever came in.
The next morning they could hear a hissing sound coming from inside the office, and when the door opened there were seven young swans swimming in a kiddie pool and wandering about the floor.
"Aw Jeeze, "Napoleon moaned. He hadn't put down any newspaper. Once the office was cleaned out and up they directed their attention to Illya's camera.
He pulled up the footage, with the two of them watching it on a small video monitor.
A hooded figure, dressed very much like a ninja walked into the office around midnight, bringing in the pool, filing it with buckets of water and finally carrying in the swans one by one. When the job was done, the dark figure turned and waved to the camera."
Illya and Napoleon looked at each other in frustration. "I told no one about this set up,"Illya insisted.
"Neither did I tovarisch." Napoleon picked up a notepad and wrote one word. "Bugged?"
Illya nodded silently and they went about searching the office. He was on his hands and knees when he reached up, holding the offending device; handing it off to his partner.
"Time for a little feedback," Napoleon announced as he tossed it on the floor, crushing it with his heel and knowing who ever was at the other end would get an earful of high-pitched squeals.
The next option was a stake out, to which Illya declined. "I am sorry my friend, but I am not going to lose sleep because you have an ardent admirer. Good night and I wish you luck."
"Thank a bunch."
Napoleon pushed the sofa out from the wall, and tossing a few pillows there, he gave himself a convenient hiding place. Hours passed with no sign of anyone. He looked at his wristwatch...4 am. He was exhausted and closed his eyes for just a minute.
"Napoleon?" Illya peeked over the back of the couch, having heard his partner snoring. "It is time to get up my friend, sadly you failed at your stake out."
Napoleon pulled himself up, bleary-eyed as he peeked over the back of the leather sofa.
"Damn." He mumbled, spotting on his desk, eight porcelain cows with maids a milking that were actually creamers, each filled with milk.
Illya picked up one of them, nonchalantly pouring some of the milk into a mug of coffee for his partner.
The creamers were sent to the commissary...
"December 9th should be interesting," Illya smiled as he sipped his glass of tea..
"Yeah right, "Napoleon groused.
"Perhaps we are looking at this the wrong way," the blond said. "Could there be an underlying message to all this?"
"As in what?"
"Do you not know what the song represents?"
"Sure, its the twelve days before Christmas, sort of a gift giving calendar from the old days I suppose."
"To the contrary my friend, it has religious significance to it."
"Religious, right and this coming from an atheist."
"Napoleon the bible is a book, and you do know I like to read." Illya smirked.
"All right so enlighten me then." Solo folded his arms defensively across his chest, waiting for the lecture.
.
"One true Love refers to God and Turtle Doves refers to the Old and New Testaments,
Three French Hens refers to Faith, Hope and Charity, the Theological Virtues,
Four calling Birds refers to the Four Gospels and/or the Four Evangelists."
"Five golden rings refers the first Five Books of the Old Testament, the "Pentateuch", which gives the history of man's fall from grace. Six geese A-laying refers to the six days of creation. Seven Swans A-swimming refers to the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, the seven sacraments."
"Eights Maids A-milking refers to the eight beatitudes...Nine Ladies Dancing refers to the nine Fruits of the Holy Spirit, Ten Lords A-leaping refers to the ten commandments,Eleven Pipers Piping... the eleven faithful apostles."
"And lastly twelve Drummers Drumming refers to the twelve points of doctrine in the Apostle's Creed."
.
"Wow, I never knew it had religious meaning, and all this from a Godless Russian who likes to read. I stand corrected and I now think I have my answer as to who's been up to this." Napoleon grinned for the first time in days.
"Who?"
"Patience my dear chum, patience."
It was now Illya's turn to huff as his involvement in this whole mishegas now had his curiosity piqued.
Napoleon walked out of his office, with Illya following a few steps after him. "I am not being left out of this reveal, my friend."
"Suit yourself."
The two of them stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the main floor, and when the doors reopened Napoleon headed directly past Alexander Waverly's conference room, to of all places, the chapel.
The doors opened to a softly lit room, with a stained glass window behind an altar. It contained no religious symbols as it was non-denominational, and there was only a lit red pole lamp somehow reminding those of the presence of God as it stood next to a pedestal upon which a vase of colorful flowers rested.
In the front row of pews sat a lone woman, a redhead with whom both agents were very familiar with, including in the biblical sense.
"I was wondering when you'd figure it out Napoleon," she said.
"Actually it was with Illya's help." Napoleon had finally deduced it was April as she was the only woman he'd ever engaged in any sort of discussion in any length regarding religion and morales.
"Hmm, figures a man that doesn't believe in God would manage to do that before you Napoleon Solo."
"So what gives April, they weren't really gifts from an admirer were they?" He sat next to her in the pew.
"Maybe they were you silly goose. I just thought you needed a reminder about God; my midwestern upbringing gave me that feeling. Maybe it's time to slow down in your, ahem, lecherous ways?" She smiled at him.
"I'm not lecherous...I just love women and they love me. I don't see anything wrong in that."
"I suppose not, as long as it's in moderation, and when it comes to women, that's something you don't practice. And to be honest, it's something I don't like competing with, a lot of women that is."
"April are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"Yes darling, I am."
"Why didn't you say so?" Napoleon reached out, pulling her into his arms and kissing her. He'd never really been a one woman man before and thought he might give it a try, at least with April. He'd have to have a talk with her though, about sending him these convoluted messages.
"What say you and I go dancing tonight," he smiled as he released her. " there's a great band playing in the Starlight Ballroom at the Waldorf-Astoria, that would sort of take care of days nine through twelve...you know ladies dancing, Lords a leaping, pipers piping and drummers drumming. I hear Buddy Rich will be there..."
"Sounds like a plan," April sighed dreamily.
Illya disappeared from the chapel with stealthy discretion, the feelings he thought he once had for April Dancer were long gone as he realized they were simply an infatuation and that was fine, as there was a new redhead at headquarters, a Section II female agent transferred in from London, one he was finding himself very curious about...