(The prompt: What if Clara had decided to ditch her husband
and go back to New York with Napoleon? (The Terbuf Affair))
Illya pulled up outside Napoleon's building and he bid his partner goodnight. They had been on a week-long assignment in Spain and both had been keen to get home to their own beds. Solo, however, didn't make a move to get out of the car. He just sat in silence, staring up at his apartment, where he could see there was light on.
"What is wrong, my friend?" Illya asked, with concern.
Throughout the previous week, Napoleon had seemed slightly distracted. It wasn't enough to interfere with the task at hand, and most people probably wouldn't have noticed, but Illya had. He had broached the issue a couple of times, but Solo had simply glossed over it and changed the subject.
"I'm not happy, Tovarisch," Napoleon finally admitted.
"Are you and Clara experiencing difficulties?"
It had been eight months since they had returned from Terbuf, when Napoleon had assumed he would never see Clara again. Parting from her for a second time had hurt him just as much as it had the first time, so when she turned up on his doorstep only a week later, he had been overjoyed. The fact she was married had initially been problem, but she'd assured him that she had already started divorce proceedings. Clara had moved in with Napoleon almost immediately.
"I love her, Illya," Napoleon told his partner, with sorrow in his voice. "I truly do."
"Then what is the problem?"
"It's all too domestic," Solo explained. "I know many people frowned on it, but dating a different woman every night was the perfect antidote for the stresses of the job. At first it was wonderful having someone to come to, but it lost its excitement fairly quickly. I don't want to hurt Clara because I love her, and she left her husband to follow me, but I don't think we should be together. She deserves to be with someone who appreciates her better than I can."
"I truly wish I could offer you advice, moy drug, but it is not me you should be saying this to."
Napoleon sighed loudly.
"You're right," he replied, "I just wish I could find the words."
He climbed out of the car and waved Illya off. Turning to the door, he squared his shoulders and headed inside.
The first thing Napoleon noticed when he entered his apartment were the two suitcases. Walking past them he found Clara sitting at the kitchen table, wearing her coat. She had a pad and pen in front of her.
"I was going to leave a note," she said, her voice filled with emotion. "But I decided that it would be too cowardly. You deserve and explanation."
"You're leaving me." Napoleon stated.
"Yes, and I'm sorry" Clara told him. "I love you so much, but it isn't enough. Every time you go out to work, or go away, the worry is too much to bear. I just can't live like that."
"I love you too, but my job is important to me. I'm still not ready to give it up."
"Oh Napoleon, I'm glad we tried, but we will never work. It's best to end it now before we begin to resent each other."
"Where will you go?" he asked.
"A friend has offered me a room until I decide what I want to do."
Napoleon pulled Clara into an embrace and kissed her deeply. It was only the need for oxygen which forced them to apart. Smiling sadly, Clara picked up her cases.
"I'll walk you down," Napoleon said, holding out his hand to take the luggage.
"Please don't. This is hard enough already."
Napoleon opened the door and stood aside. As Clara passed him, he thanked her. He had meant it as gratitude for her following him to New York, and for the time she had given him. In his heart though, he knew he was thanking her for saving him from having to end it. He felt like an absolute coward, but admitting his feelings to her wouldn't have helped the situation.
After closing the door, Napoleon took out his communicator. Illya wouldn't be home yet, so there was no point on telephoning.
"Could you come back here, Tovarisch?"
Illya didn't question the request. He simply turned the car around and headed back to his friend. It was going to be a long night.