The Solo Family estate
Up-state New York.
Napoleon Solo looked out the large window and sighed. It was a strain to stand up, stiff, sore; he made his way out onto the large porch of the house. The place had been in his family for many, many years starting with his great-grandparents and handed down from Solo to Solo. He made his way to the porch swing and sat down. A loud creaking sound brought a smile. His hand gave the arm rest a few pats.
"I certainly hope that was you and not me," he said aloud.
Almost as if to answer him, the swing made another loud creak.
The Summer was almost over. The leaves had not yet begun to change, but the days were getting shorter and cooler. There was the distinct feeling of change in the air. A cool evening breeze blew up and he felt it all the way through his body. He took a deep relaxing breath.
Napoleon leaned back in the swing, closed his eyes and took another deep breath. He opened them slowly. The agent jumped in surprise.
"I hate it when you do that!" he said smiling.
Illya Kuryakin stood on the porch next to the steps. He gave his partner a slight hint to a smile as he carefully sat on the porch rail. The blond hair was caught by a light breeze, and the two crystal blue eyes stared at the older man. He reached up and gave his tie a tug.
"Where did you ever manage to find a suit that fits?" Solo asked.
The Russian laughed and ran his hand over his hair. He stood up again and made a slight turn.
"Amazing, isn't it?" he said, "Your attire leaves a lot to be desired.", he added motioning to Solo.
Napoleon made a sharp laugh and looked down at his clothes. He gave the baggy sweatshirt and pants a tug, then lifted his feet and gave his tennis shoes a quick glance.
"You're just jealous because I can make even this look good," he laughed.
Illya smiled broadly and laughed as well. He sighed. The Russian folded his arms and rocked back a bit against the rail. He stared at his feet a few moments then tilted his head to look at his partner.
"Seriously though Napoleon," he said.
Solo felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He reached up and gave his neck a rub.
"I was sent to bring you home," Kuryakin said, his tone firm but comforting.
Napoleon looked out across the field.
"I am home," he said choking slightly on the words.
Illya walked over and put his hand on Solo's shoulder.
"Come on Napoleon….Mr. Waverly wants to see us both… I guess he's tired of seeing just me all the time….no more excuses. It's time."
He felt his partner tremble slightly. A tear fell on Solo's cheek.
"I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be," Solo said.
Napoleon stood up. His hands brushed over his blue double-breasted suit and he felt a small wisp of black hair flop over on his forehead. No more aches, no more stiffness. Adjusting his tie, he motioned for his partner to lead the way and they both stepped off the porch and started across the yard.
Solo heard the front screen door open. He turned and looked as Nicki walked out the door. He stopped and watched as his daughter walked over and sat down on the porch swing. Solo saw her take the tired pale hand in her own.
Nicki's lip trembled as she pulled her father close and laid his head against her shoulder. Napoleon saw her give his forehead a kiss and brush her hand gently against his soft white hair. He wanted to tell her it was alright. The woman placed her hand gently against the side of his face, tears on her cheeks; she began to slowly move the swing to and fro.
"It's alright daddy," she whispered, "Don't keep Mr. Waverly waiting."