Illya Kuryakin sat at his kitchen table, drinking his glass of tea, reading the newspaper laying in front of him while at the same time bouncing a young child on his knee. His grandson Michael.
"More granddad more."
"Michael, your grandfather is old with a bad leg so you must take what you can get and be satisfied with that. Lourdes, will you please come relieve me of your son? I am getting tired and I would dearly like to read my newspaper in peace. Not that I do not love my grandchilds company."
Illya tickled the boys tummy, sending him into a fit of giggles, while making a quacking sound, the same that he used to make Michael's mother laugh hysterically when she was little.
It seemed like a lifetime ago, when he was young with a small family; treading where no U.N.C.L.E. agent had gone before. Though he and his wife Elliott set the precedent, allowing for agents to eventually have families of their own; it would have been nice sometimes not to have been living under a microscope, per se.
"Oh Papa don't be so grumpy," the petite redhead laughed, picking up the boy."Come on Michael, let's go find your grandmother so you can work your wiles on her."
"Are you sure you want to do that Lala. Your mother was in a foul mood when we woke up this morning. Her back was hurting."
"That's because you two still get too frisky at your age, honestly Papa you just turned eighty."
"Excuse me daughter, you are delving into areas that are none of your concern. You should be happy to have both your parents who are not only fit but are still very much in love and able to...do it," he actually cackled.
"Papa! When did you turn into a dirty old man?" Lourdes Mary blushed, and turned on her heel, heading for her parents livingroom in search of her mother. She did hear her father behind her not laughing anymore but mumbling under his breath in Russian; he was obviously ticked off about something he was reading in the paper.
The front door opened quietly and a familiar voice announced his arrival.
"Hi Uncle Napoleon." Lourdes kissed him on the cheek, brushing the stray lock of snow white hair that always seemed to droop down to his brow.
"Michael say hi to your Uncle." The boy buried his auburn head into his mother's shoulder. "Michael, that's not nice."
"It's all right sweetheart, he's just being shy. Nothing wrong with that. I think he gets it from your father. Speaking of whom…"
"He's in the kitchen, growling at the newspaper."
"Where's the baby.
"Paul's upstairs taking a nap, teething something terrible."
"Aw the poor fella. Did you rub whisky on his gums?"
"Are you kidding, in this house it's vodka, you know that," she laughed, disappearing into the living room with her squirming son.
Napoleon sauntered in as best as his silver-handled cane would allow him but at least he did it with style. He hated having to use it, but still it was better than falling on his face and breaking something. He had to be careful about that nowadays...something they called osteoporosis. He chewed antacids everyday, as he'd been told they contained lots of calcium and bones needed calcium. Should have drunk more milk when he was younger...but oh well.
He was too busy trying to keep his hide intact from other physical dangers to think about drinking milk.
"Yeah right," he mumbled,"What was that jingle...'milk it does a body good?" Calcium wasn't the only thing he was taking. He had pills to sleep, pills to wake up, pills to pee...too many pills. Napoleon Solo remembered refusing to take any pills a long time ago.
Still his heart was strong as was his body, for the most part. He needed to be around a long time for those grandchildren of his.
Illya, the lucky dog had ten of them at last count. Nine boys ensuring the Kuryakin line wouldn't die out as he was always so convinced it would end with him. And then there was little Sophia his granddaughter; the apple of his eye. If he ever doted on Lourdes Mary, he most certainly did even more so when it came to Demya's daughter, his little Soso.
His partner had a bit of a jump on him when it came to fathering children. All boys except for Lourdes Mary. There was Demya, Anton and Andrey...they were the children he had with Elliott. Then there were the unexpected surprises that came to Illya later in life; several sons conceived before he'd met his wife and had no idea of their existence until the boys were adults...that was years ago and now they had families of their own.
Napoleon scrunched up his face as he tried to remember all the names. Okay, there was Lourdes' boys Paul and Michael, Demya's daughter Sophia, along with her brothers Illya and Piotr. Anthony...whose father was Anton, both named for their Uncle Napoleon Antony. Andrey, Illya's youngest son, unmarried and away at a Cambridge working on his Phd... always having his nose buried in books like his father. There was a twinkle in Napoleon's eye, thinking this one would probably be a late bloomer like his father.
He couldn't recall the names of Illya's other grandchildren, as they were living somewhere in Europe and the Middle East. He'd never met them. Illya didn't mention them often as it upset Elliott.
No wife wants to find out her husband had fathered children with other women, even if it was before they were married...at least not one like Elliott Kuryakin who still had her fierce Irish temper.
Napoleon chuckled to himself. What were the odds that his once painfully shy partner would have fathered such a brood while he, the great lover Napoleon Solo with all the women he bedded, never had a child out of wedlock...at least none that he knew of? Still at the age of eighty-one, if one or two hadn't crawled out from under the woodwork by now, chances were none existed.
Illya was lucky to still have his wife Elliott with him, but sadly Napoleon had lost his beautiful Bella to a heart attack six years ago.
At least it was quick, he told himself, and she didn't suffer a long, lingering death. He thought he would die without her, the love of his life...his soul mate.
The woman had been through so much, putting up with his dedication to U.N.C.L.E. After he left the Command their time together should have lasted longer; he was being greedy, he knew it, but who could blame him for wanting to spend the rest of his life with the woman he loved. It just wasn't meant to be.
He focused his attention on his children and grandchildren, though his son hadn't married, taking after his dad and living the bachelor life; working out in California in silicone valley. He'd given up hope there'd be a male heir one day to continue the Solo line.
Solo was grateful his daughters didn't live far away; getting to see his Appollonia and her boys, Nathan and Cassidy, as well as Polly's twin sister Celeste Nicole and her boy Edgar...Lord, why Celeste went along with her husbands wish to name the boy that was beyond him. Though he supposed it wasn't any worse than the once Solo tradition of giving sons unusual first names.
Bella had put her foot down though, insisting their only son be called Alexander after Mr. Waverly. The man, after all, was her adopted uncle and godfather. Still Alexander was a strong name just like Napoleon…
.
The former U.N.C.L.E. CCO finally made it into the kitchen. "G'morning tovarisch, anything interesting besides the funnies?"
"Hmm yes, there is always something more than the comics section, though you wouldn't know that would you?"
"Hey so I like to read them, nothing wrong with that. I know you don't want to believe it, but I do keep up with current events Mr. Smarty-pants."
"Oh yes, the articles in Playboy are so informative are they not?"
"Touché. So what are you reading that has you so riled up? Lala said you were practically growling."
"Oh she did, did she? I did not know my daughter had become a snitch. Well I suppose expressing my ire over this situation in the Ukraine might be misconstrued as growling."
"And…?"
"This Viktor Yanukovich is leading the country back into being a police state."
"Enlighten me." Napoleon was well aware of the unrest and of the former Soviet Union...no, Russia he corrected himself, working its financial influence on Yanukovich. The populace of the Ukraine had expressed their unequivocal desire to join the European Union and now that might not happen. Protests ensued, government buildings occupied. It was a tense and messy situation that could erupt into a civil war.
"Look here," Illya smacked the paper with his hand. "The Ukraine accepted $20 billion in a financial bailout from Russia last month, and that made a clear move away from its integration with the EU. The President has not only embraced Russia's money but its style of authoritarianism as well. Their influence is bolstering his failing popularity and emboldening him. Laws are being enacted that severely limit a Ukrainian's rights," Illya shook his head.
"It is terrible to see what they have gained beginning to disappear again, all under the yoke of Russian interference. The Soviet Union may have been dissolved, but apparently its ways have not."
Napoleon could hear Illya's voice straining. It was strange to hear him speaking in a negative light about Russia. The man had been always been fiercely proud of his Russian identity ever since he'd known him.
"What gives?You're taking Ukraine's side against mother Russia? I'm shocked."
"My friend, I am Russian by heritage and will always be proud of that, but I am not proud of the direction in which Putin is leading the country. I am however, Ukrainian by birth, that was something I denied for too long. I want my Ukrainian bretheren to keep their independence and freedoms."
"I understand pal. They've got a long hard road ahead of them if they want that to happen. Let's just hope that road doesn't become a violent one. There's already enough crap going on in the world with Al-Qaeda, the Taliban, Lil' Kim Jong-un and all the other megalomaniacs just waiting to step out of the shadows."
"It is not like when we were agents. We knew who the enemy was did we not? Illya sighed. "Now with the internet, technology careening out of control, cyber terrorism; no one knows clearly who the bad guys are. You need a score card to keep track of it all. The game as changed my friend and I fear for our grandchildren. What kind of world lies ahead for them?" He removed his bifocals wiping them with his handkerchief before putting them on again.
"I don't know Illya, I'm as much at a loss as you are. And U.N.C.L.E. is now an anachronism, but maybe there might be some new life breathed into it again someday so it can help save the world from itself. Now how about some lunch, my head hurts from thinking too much,"Napoleon joked, trying to break the tension.
"That is my line, but sounds like a plan, "Illya grunted as he rose, leaning on his own cane. "I will race you to my Prius. Loser pays, winner picks the restaurant."
Napoleon knew damn well that was a sucker bet as Illya could still out hobble him.
"Oh hell, let's just go to Denny's. I'll buy."
"Cheapskate," Illya mumbled.
"Hey don't you think that's the pot calling the kettle black?"
"I have told you for well over fifty years I am not cheap...I am frugal."
"Yeah right chum, whatever you say."
"You are being patronizing again Napoleon."
"Who me?" He flashed his most charming smile at the Russian, or was he Ukrainian?
"And since when do you wear bow ties?" Solo put on his over-sized reading glasses, examining Illya's neckwear more closely."What's that pattern, ducks...rubber duckies? No, I see now, they're mallards."
As always, Illya simply rolled his eyes in response...
"Good to see some things never change tovarisch."