In fond memory of Leo G. Carroll on the 42nd anniversary of his passing (October 16, 1972)
In the whole of the U.N.C.L.E. organization, there was perhaps no man who was more of an enigma than Alexander Waverly. There were few that called him anything but Mister Waverly and the number of those calling him Alexander seemed to shrink with the start of every year. He was a brilliant strategist who, though he had been known to let sentiment guide a decision, never let that selfsame sentiment muddle his thinking.
Some at UNCLE thought that Mister Waverly lived in his office and it wasn't an assumption he corrected. Part of the illusion was that no-one, not even his secretary, was ever sure when he arrived or when he departed. It wasn't generally known at Headquarters that he could answer his office phone from a secured line at his home - that added greatly to the appearance of never leaving.
The call he had just finished was from his CEA, Napoleon Solo, who was currently in Iceland with his partner. The THRUSH plot had not only been foiled, but neither Mister Solo or Mister Kuryakin were going to require more than the usual post-mission check-up in Medical. The good news gave him an appetite for the breakfast before him.
The October morning was cool, but still comfortable on the balcony overlooking their formal flower garden where he and his wife preferred to take their breakfast. He buttered a triangle of toast and had begun to cut his bacon rasher when he glanced at his hands, frowning as the age spots reminded him forcefully of the passage of years. He paused and looked across at his wife, showing her age as well, but still lovely, if a bit fragile these days.
"Millicent, do you ever regret it?"
Her hand stopped, resting on the handle of the teapot at his question.
"Regret what, Alexander?"
"The turns our lives took because we took on more of an active than passive role in world affairs. We lost a great deal from following our ideals. Friends, family - not to mention your health."
Pulling her hand back, Millicent became thoughtful, the thumb of her right hand rubbing gently against the wedding ring on the left hand - an unconscious move she often made while thinking something over.
"I am genuinely unsure of how to answer that. There is no true way to look back on what might have been except for a few specifics, Alexander. For example, had you not gone with your principles, you and I would never have wed, so none of the family would even have existed. And yes, a bomb took my ability to walk more than a few steps at a time away from me, but I came closer to dying in my teens from a glass of improperly pasteurized milk."
Reaching for the teapot again, Millicent added more tea to both of their cups before setting the pot back down and picking up a croissant.
"I suppose I can answer that, after all. No, I do not regret it. We've made a difference, you and I. You more than I in the larger scheme of things, of course."
"Nonsense, my dear. I was able to do what I did because I had support - and someone who would tell me what she truly thought instead of what she thought I would want to hear."
A smile formed as she lifted her cup.
"You were aware that I was not a shrinking violet well before we wed, Alexander. But allow me to turn the question back on you, my dear husband. Any regrets?"
"Truthfully, only that we have not been able to do more."
"We are, alas, only human, Alexander. We could make educated guesses, but we could not see the future. Also, while we could often fault the morals of our opposition, many of them had first-rate intellects."
There was a pause in conversation as she took a bite of her croissant and followed it with a sip of tea before continuing.
"Perhaps the incident occurred at the correct time to make a lifetime impression on me, but I keep thinking back to the Titanic. There were very few that could have changed anything that night that she hit the iceberg. All the other souls on board had to do the best they could to deal with circumstances well beyond their control."
Reaching across the table, she laid her hand atop of her husband's.
"I do believe we have done as well as could reasonably be expected when those things beyond our control are taken into account."
Lifting her hand, he lowered his head enough to press a kiss against her wedding ring.
"You are quite right, my dear. No regrets."