Title: In A Word
Author: Still Waters
Fandom: The Man From UNCLE
Disclaimer: I do not own this show. Just playing, with love and respect to those who brought these characters to life.
Summary: 3 times Illya heard the word 'tovarisch' during "The Terbuf Affair", 3 layers of meaning.
Written: Notes: 3/2/14. Written: 3/7/14.
Notes: This idea came about while writing notes for another MFU piece that's still not quite ready to be told. It's a quick bit of character exploration using one word as the focus – the first two quotes actually occurred in "The Terbuf Affair", the third I created as an unseen epilogue to the episode. Thank you to all those who welcomed my first journey into writing these characters – as always, I truly hope I did them justice. Thank you for reading.
1. "On your way, tovarisch."
The word was smug and scornful, spoken by men filled with self-importance, secure in their privilege and superiority within a law written by their own boots and firearms. It was an insult to a foreigner; a verbal spit at the feet of a Bulgarian fisherman who had no rights in their country - a man who could be harassed for his papers and relieved of his knife and cigarette case for nothing more than sport by military men who feared neither official retribution nor victim protest.
Illya showed them how wrong they were.
2. "Tovarisch major!"
The officer's coat was thick and scratchy, as familiar a mantle as the barked address to the Major Illya held hostage. The word was spine-straight discipline and indoctrinated respect without question; a product of relentless training, the enforced ignorance of not knowing any other way, and the well-checked fear of having heard the stories of those who stepped out of line.
Illya knew that fear – one a man didn't even permit himself to acknowledge he felt – and fed into it with a hidden gun as steady as his controlled, clipped command.
"Hurry up. Colonel Morisco is a very impatient man."
3. "Next vacation, tovarisch, you're choosing the place."
The surrounding words were a study in lingering hurt; the wistfulness of memory and 'what might have been.' But the word itself was nothing but warmth and affection; a silent 'thank you, my friend' within three syllables of American-accented Russian.
Here, it was more than a layered word heard at the door of a sun-drenched Italian hotel room: it was Napoleon Solo – honest, thankful, and laid bare; the man who personified every definition of 'tovarisch' while still being so much more.
In a word, it was the reason Illya Kuryakin had stayed.