"Are you ready for lunch?" A perky voice bounded through the doorway to Illya and Napoleon's office. It was a woman. Napoleon looked up, slightly perplexed. He hadn't made any lunch dates, and Illya… Illya never made lunch dates.
The Russian turned towards the petite brunette who had asked the question, his face lighting up in a way usually reserved for hearty plates of Italian cuisine from Luigi's.
"Linda! Hello, and yes I am quite ready. Have you something in mind?" He was putting on his jacket as he spoke, ignoring his partner who sat with his mouth in the shape of a question about to be asked.
"Napoleon, this is Linda Cummings, from Communications. She talked me through the wee hours of my incarceration in Ingolstein." Napoleon smiled and nodded, acknowledging the woman and still wondering about this lunch thing.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Solo. I've heard so much… I mean, well… it's very nice." He smiled again, partly pleased to have made an impression on someone and curious as to what exactly had been said to make Linda stutter so.
Illya decided to not linger on that subject and took Linda's elbow as he guided her out of the office and down the corridor. He had no intention of explaining anything to his nosy partner. Instead he and Linda headed directly for the diner two blocks down from Headquarters where they met up with another couple.
Hans Ingram and Stella Cooper were friends of Linda, a couple who intended to marry as soon as Hans' visa was extended. Linda had consulted Illya about the complexities of visas and green cards… all of it a baffling maze of bureaucratic red tape to the uninitiated. Part of the lengthy overseas conversation from Ingolstein had been a prelude to this meeting between the UNCLE employees and the couple depending on their help.
"Why do you not simply marry, and then Hans will automatically be awarded the right to remain in the United States?" Illya thought that was the easiest pathway to wedded bliss for these two. He wondered that they weren't taking that route first.
Stella looked at Hans, a question in her eyes that caused him to look straight at Illya and respond to the question.
"We considered that, but there will be many inquiries as to the legitimacy of our relationship. The truth is…' Hans hesitated, at which Stella spoke up.
"The truth is, Mr. Kuryakin, I am not a citizen. I came here and never received the proper credentials. My real name isn't Stella Cooper, it's Stella Korneyeva; I was smuggled into the country on a military transport. Don't ask please, I don't want to get anyone else in trouble. The less we concentrate on my story, the better. I am sure…Vy mozhete ponyat' moyu problemu?"
Illya looked at the couple, then to Linda who was expecting a surefire solution for her friends' problem. She figured if anyone could help it would be UNCLE's Russian. He took moment to consider everything before speaking, and finally had the beginning of an answer.
"Hans, is there anything at all that will come up that might hinder the process of our visa?" The young man shook his head no, hopeful that this other man might have good news for them.
"Stella, what skills do you have that might be useful to American society, or to an organization such as the one for whom I work? Anything, any languages other than Russian and English?" He had something in mind, a stretch perhaps, but he was counting on Mr. Waverly to have sympathies for the plight of these two.
Stella was animated as she replied. "Yes, I speak French and German as well, some Ukranian and I'm also beginning to learn Spanish. I seem to absorb languages very well. Is that helpful?" Illya was seeing a light at the end of this tunnel.
"Yes, very helpful. It may take a bit of maneuvering, but I believe we might have a way to make your presence here legal, and hopefully speed up the visa business for Hans."
Illya took his leave of the other three then, explaining that he would do what he could and that Linda would be the liaison for their exchange of information. He was glad to help someone from his homeland, curious as to what military personnel had willingly smuggled her aboard a US plane and into the country. Some kindnesses were fraught with intrigue.
Returning to the office he shared with his partner, Illya went to work on a document that would outline the acquisition of a new translations expert, the need for some bureaucratic untangling, and a request to aid in the acquisition of a visa for Hans. Mr. Waverly would be put to the test concerning his ability and willingness to help someone avoid penalties for fleeing the Soviet Union without the benefit of asylum. Kuryakin hoped his superior would make this effort, for the sake of the mission of UNCLE, as well as for the benefit of a woman who had the potential to make a contribution to the Command and its mission.
Napoleon found Illya typing the document he would present to Alexander Waverly. Upon a cursory examination of the pages on his desk, the question was finally presented.
"So, I see from this that you have taken on the job of procuring employment and visa for…"
"For two friends of Linda, the woman you met earlier. Stella is a perfect candidate for our Translations Department, and her fiancé is an engineer. I am hopeful that Mr. Waverly will allow them to come to work here, or at least provide recommendations for Hans' visa." Napoleon's brow creased as he considered the request his partner was making.
"Illya, they would need to be thoroughly vetted, background checks done… you do know the processes involved in hiring in to UNCLE." Illya kept his eyes on the page he was typing, a sigh escaping only after he punctuated the last sentence.
"I do. I also know that Mr. Waverly has made exceptions and that, in their case, Hans and Stella deserve a chance. They are intelligent, skilled… and they want to be Americans. I think that usually counts for something here, does it not?"
"It does, I just don't know if it will garner them a career here at UNCLE. But let's see what we can do to help it along, shall we." Illya looked up at his friend, aware now that Napoleon was willing to join in on the pitch he was preparing to make to Mr. Waverly.
"Thank you Napoleon." Napoleon nodded.
"Let's go, tovarisch. You have a good deed to perform."
It wasn't immediate, and it did take some convincing and not a little sleuthing to determine that neither Hans nor Stella were criminals, insurrectionists or THRUSH. The couple found themselves gainfully employed after a two month long process of interviews and testing, at the end of which they each had received the right to stay in America and work for the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement.
Linda had been ecstatic with the results, aware that it had all started with the meaningless flirtation with Illya as he sat in a cell in Ingolstein.
"You made that little country sound so romantic, I know we chatted like teenagers that night. Illya, you made dreams come true for my friends; how can I ever thank you?"
The Russian agent was no stranger to romance, and he had truly enjoyed his conversation with Linda on that night. It seemed so long ago, with missions since that had incurred injuries and other types of memories.
"I should have done this sooner, but would you like to have dinner with me? We can even, what is it… double date, with Hans and Stella. Or not." His eyes were so blue that Linda was reminded of a caribbean holiday, and wondered for just a minute…
"I'd love that Illya, I truly would. But…' Somehow he hadn't expected a but.
"I've been seeing someone the past month and, well it's getting rather serious. I guess we just weren't meant to be, but I thank you for the offer. I'm flattered beyond words, truly. I think you are one of the kindest, sweetest men I've ever met."
Illya smiled, then kissed her on the cheek. It was times like this that he wondered about his own future, if there would ever be that 'rather serious' romance.
"I'm happy for you, I really am. I was too late, it seems.'' Better to not have these casual dalliances. Linda was the type of woman who would make a man happy, and deserved to be happy herself. Illya feigned the need to rush away, some meeting or … something.
He left her standing in the doorway to Communications, her own thoughts now questioning what might have been.