What if Pia and Napoleon had actually gotten married?
Before . . .
"Well sir, she is my wife now, regardless of the circumstances, and if I do nothing else for her, I have to see that she is all right. She is an innocent in all of this, sir!"
Waverly glared at his CEA.
"Wife? What kind of trouble will you get into next Mister Solo? You realize you are setting up Mister Kuryakin to be your successor?"
Solo shook his head as patiently as he could.
"Not if you don't let me go and rescue them, sir. Illya was taken too. He's going to be as dead as Pia when the island goes up!"
"Very well. We will discuss this wedding of yours upon your return."
That made Solo pause.
"It was not my choice, sir. They had me at gunpoint. They were concerned for Pia's reputation. For some reason, they would not believe that I am a gentleman."
Solo could see his boss stifling a smirk.
"Go Mister Solo, and be quick. That missile goes off on schedule. If you are still there…"
Solo nodded, and started to run . . .
After . . .
As the boat sped away from the island, Illya lay exhausted on the sofa in the cabin. He would have given his last penny for his usual talent of sleeping anytime and anywhere, but this time sleep eluded him. His mind refused to let go of the anger, pain and humiliation he had suffered at the hands of Miss Diketon. The injuries she had caused him still smarted badly. The fact that she was dead gave him no solace. He groaned as he rolled over. No doubt he would be in for another period of forever in the hands of the psyche department when they got back. Right now, all he wanted was rest, but still his mind would not let go…
Napoleon Solo sat hunched in the bows of the boat, watching the reflections of the stars as they danced across the water. Pia's uncles, the Stilletto brothers were handling the boat competently without him, and Pia was busily serving hot drinks to them as they steered the boat, reveling in their victory. He turned his back on them and stared resolutely out to sea. A soft hand touched his back and he wanted to snap and demand to be left alone with his thoughts. He forced himself to turn and acknowledge the young woman with a silent nod, the most he could manage.
"Cocoa?"
She handed him a mug of hot coca that steamed invitingly. Almost grudgingly he accepted the cup and looked forward once again.
"You are not happy at your victory over Strago and his wicked plans?"
"Yes, of course."
Even to him his voice sounded slightly strangled. He felt rather than saw Pia nod beside him.
"You are angry with me."
Her voice sounded so desolate, that he was instantly repentant. She was, after all, just as innocent in this as he was himself. She had not asked him to come to her for help in the middle of the night, and regardless of the consequences, she had helped him. She was not to blame for the understandable outrage of her family. In fact, if he was completely honest with himself, he could not really blame Pia's family either. Nothing had happened. That was fact. But the fact was also true that a strange man had spent the night alone with Pia in her bedroom. What would he believe in their place? And even if they did believe him, the neighbours would not when they heard of it, and Pia's reputation would still be ruined. He turned towards her and gave her a smile.
"Did you have a young man at home that you were interested in?"
She smiled, but shook her head.
"No, they are all afraid of my family. I was always going to marry someone they chose for me. No one else would have the nerve to ask."
He looked down at her hands, resting lightly on her lap. Despite everything that had happened, she did not seem nervous in any way. She was relaxed.
"So, what about you, Senor Solo? Did you have someone else you wanted to marry?"
Napoleon shook his head, and took her hands in his own.
"It appears that you and I are married to each other yes?"
At her nod, he gently took her chin and kissed her cheek.
"Then you need not call me Senor Solo. My name is Napoleon. And the answer to your question is no." he smiled sadly at her. "I am a field agent for UNCLE. At least I was. Field agents are not permitted to marry."
She stared at him, alarm growing on her face.
"So, what will happen to you, now you are married to me?"
"Unless they are willing to make an exception in my case, I will have to leave my job. They'll stick me in an office, behind a desk."
Pia thought about all that this handsome man had accomplished. He had come after her to rescue her and his friend from those bad people, and he had united with her uncles, men he had reason to mistrust and dislike, and they had succeeded. He was alive and energetic and clever. A man who seemed to live for excitement. A man like this would die sitting in an office. Not literally perhaps, but he would die inside. She kissed his forehead and walked away, leaving him to his thoughts. Napoleon watched her go, disquieted at the sudden realization that the boat seemed slightly colder and emptier, now that she had walked away.
And Finally . . .
When the boat landed on shore, Napoleon gave Pia some money, instructing her to book into a hotel overnight, buy herself a change of clothes and come to New York two days from now when they would be reunited. The hotel bill, he assured her, would be taken care of by UNCLE. He and Illya caught a plane to New York and, still having had no sleep or time to change their clothes, they reported to Mister Waverly. He looked at them ruefully.
"So, you really did get yourselves into a pickle this time Mister Solo."
Solo hung his head.
"I don't know what to say sir. Nothing happened between me and Pia. She saved me from those THRUSH goons, that's all, but I can't blame her family for not believing it."
"So, this was a literal shotgun wedding?"
Illya smirked beside him and Solo felt his mouth twitch.
"Yes, sir. I don't want to leave section two, sir. I would be useless behind a desk, but I can't just dump Pia like an old shoe can I, sir?"
"Have you talked to her about it?"
"She knows that I cannot be married and still be a field agent."
"What did she say when you told her?"
"Nothing, sir. She walked away. I think she felt…rejected…?"
Waverly nodded.
"Quite understandable. Well Mister Solo. Do you care about Miss Monteri?"
"Of course, sir. She is a beautiful and caring girl."
"Would you choose to divorce her? Or remain her husband?"
Solo put his head in his hands.
"I couldn't divorce her, sir. She has done nothing wrong. Our marriage is not even…consummated, sir. I said `I do' at the point of a gun. It surely cannot be even legal? But even so, I can't help feeling sorry for Pia, sir."
Waverly waved his pipe.
"Yes, yes, Mister Solo, I am aware of all of that. Do you really think that I have been idle these past few days? You have options here, but you might be better to wait and speak to your wife before deciding. We can arrange for your marriage to be annulled. There is ample basis for that. In return for the cooperation and agreement of the Stilletto brothers, we can arrange for Miss Pia and her grandmamma to move here to be with the rest of their family. We can set the young woman up in a small business of her own. The alternative is that we might be prepared to make an exception in your case to the no marriage rule. You remain married to the young woman and remain in section two. The catch is that her life will be in danger from THRUSH. The only way to offset that would be for her to live permanently under UNCLE protection."
Napoleon shook his head.
"They would all hate that."
"Or you can remain married to her and negate the danger by retiring as a field agent. You would still be CEA, but office-bound."
Solo nodded, and with a uncharacteristic stoop of his shoulders, he left the office. Waverly glanced at Illya.
"He is not accustomed to not knowing what to do, Mister Kuryakin, but his heart will move him to do the right thing in this case. So, what about you?"
"I will be fine, sir. I'm not married."
Waverly raised his eyebrows and Illya shrugged.
"I have not enjoyed this assignment, sir. I have been beaten, electrocuted, spat at, insulted, hung, almost drowned…and I have not slept in more than three days. I consider that Mister Solo has got off lightly sir, under the circumstances."
Waverly nodded.
"Go straight down to medical, Mister Kuryakin. I will call ahead and tell them to expect you."
Kuryakin nodded and headed for the door. He was slightly unsteady on his feet, but Waverly thought he might just make it. He picked up the telephone.
It was evening of the following day. Illya had finally had a long sleep, thanks to medical, and he made his way up to the office he shared with his partner. He found Napoleon sitting with a letter in his hand, tears on his cheeks.
"What is wrong my friend?"
Wordlessly, Napoleon handed over the letter in his hand. Illya opened it and read;
"My husband,
You will forgive me for calling you husband, just this one time, because I do like the sound of it. I have been so upset ever since our conversation on the boat, because you have been put through a lot of trouble on my account, and I do not consider that you have deserved any of it. You and I both know that nothing happened between us in that room, and that is all that matters. Why should your whole life be turned upside down because of me?
It was perhaps understandable why grandmamma reacted the way she did, but she is still living in the last century. In her world, a girl must become engaged if she so much as is kissed by a man anywhere but on the back of the hand.
I will not beat around the bush. I was happy with my place, and I was not in a rush to marry. I would be happy to remain your wife, but not at the price you will have to pay, and so I have insisted that my uncles reverse the damage they have done to you.
They know that you and I are bonded on paper only and not physically, and they have admitted that they owe you for saving my life. I think they also are a little more worldly wise for living so long in your country than grandmamma. They have already set in motion the wheels to cancel the vows that they forced you to make. You are free, Senor Solo.
Grandmamma has been sent for, and she is on her way to join us here in America. My uncles are going to set me up in a place here, where I will be able to do what I enjoy the most; cooking good food for people to enjoy. It will be called Pia's Place. You must come and be our guests when we open in two months' time. I will write you then. All my love,
Your Pia."