The Appearances Can Be Deceiving Affair
By Selyndae
Act II: Sugar and Spice
Finally he was released from medical. Because of the uniqueness of the situation, Illya Kuryakin found himself having to re-qualify and re-prove himself in practically everything. First, there were the extensive (and invasive) tests in medical. (This did not improve his disposition, much to Napoleann's secret delight.) Then, he had to go down to the firing range (perhaps his temper made him sharper—he actually bested his previous scores). One of the oddest bits was unarmed combat practice in the gym; fighting these women within the ranks proved to be exactly the same as fighting their male counterparts. (He hid a grin thinking of Napoleon in the same situation.)
Perhaps the weirdest thing, though, was his first encounter with April and Mark (or rather, August and Marcia). He'd actually recognized them—now that he'd begun to view people through his 'new' eyes.
It was only a matter of days before Illya found himself spending most of his time down in the labs. Very quickly he and Simpson (who was easily as brilliant, inspired, and quirky as her male counterpart) were completely immersed in theory as they discussed the many aspects to this unique situation at great length. Tonight, they were so engrossed they worked straight through dinner (Illya didn't even notice) and were so intent with their theories that they were unaware of Napoleann's entrance. After a few minutes, Napoleann cleared her throat before asking mildly, "Don't you people get hungry?"
Both heads looked up in astonishment. After seeing the time on the clock, Simpson gasped, "Oh goodness, Ms. S., I didn't realize it was so late." As she quickly gathered up her notes, she muttered, "That's the third time this week—my husband is going to be furious..." Rushing over to slip on her coat, she gave a casual wave to Solo and Kuryakin as she started for the door. Pausing a moment, she gave Kuryakin a knowing look over her glasses. "Be sure to lock up, Mr. K."
Illya nodded absently as he sat quietly, absorbed in thought. After a couple of minutes, Napoleann moved closer to Illya and tapped his shoulder. Startled, Illya's reflexes took over, but realizing there was no threat, did not actually grip (and break) the hand that touched him before he relaxed.
Napoleann grinned. "Hey, I thought you were hungry?"
Illya gave a ghost smile as his stomach suddenly gave a rumble. "I could eat, yes."
"Grab your coat then. My treat." Napoleann grinned wider at Illya's startled expression. Correctly interpreting his surprise, she added, "You've been released. Waverly gave the okay for you to be" her grin changed into a definite smirk, "Illya Kuryakin."
Illya grabbed his coat and was out the door, starting down the hallway before Napoleann could change her mind. Moments later she caught up and they were walking down the steel-walled corridor to reception. After handing in their badges, they walked outside the tailor shop ('manned' by a female Della Floria).
Solo's car was parked across the almost empty street. After the usual check for unwelcome additions, they got into the big Chrysler convertible. "Italian okay?" At Illya's nod, she pulled smoothly into traffic and headed for one of their favorite restaurants.
After a delicious meal, liberally interspersed with glasses of wine, and a truly decadent dessert, Napoleann casually waved her hand to call for the check. Leaving a generous tip, she stood up and took a step toward Illya's chair, hands outstretched to help him out, when she became aware of Illya's trademark glare.
"Napoleann..." Mild though his tone was, it still indicated danger. "Exactly what is it you think you are doing?"
Napoleann dropped her hands and blushed. "Sorry, Illya. I, um, sort of forgot that you're my partner and not… um, my date."
Illya's gaze grew sharper for a moment. Then, sighing, "I can forgive such a lapse... once."
Napoleann gave a lopsided grin. "I'll try to keep that in mind." She backed away and glanced around the restaurant. "Shall we go?"
"Given that I can manage to walk unassisted, yes." With that, Illya got up from the table and followed his 'partner' outside.
They drove in silence for a while. A light rain made the streets shiny under the lights causing the late-night traffic to snarl. Stopping at a traffic light, Napoleann asked casually, "Did you want to stop at my place for a drink or maybe at yours...? She waited
Illya, who had been idly staring out the window said, "Oh... mine."
"I wonder if your key will work," Napoleann speculated.
"If the theories hold true," Illya responded dryly.
After parking the car almost directly in front of Illya's Greenwich Village apartment (Napoleann's luck again) they got out and walked up the three flights of stairs to his door. Coolly, Illya dug out his key and inserted it in the door, automatically disarming the security system.
Everything worked perfectly.
Letting out the breath he didn't know he was holding, Illya led the way inside followed closely by Napoleann. Hanging up his coat in the tiny closet, Illya stretched out an arm to get Napoleann's. "Go ahead, make yourself at home," said Illya over his shoulder as he walked into the tiny kitchenette to pull a bottle of Stolichnaya out of the freezer and a bottle of Glenlivet out of the cupboard. After pouring glasses for each of them, Illya carried them out to the living room where Napoleann had indeed made herself at home by stretching out on Illya's ugly, but comfortable couch. Illya handed the whiskey over and sat down in the matching chair. Putting his feet up on the coffee table, he looked around the room for a bit. Draining his glass in one swallow, Illya abruptly sat up. Feet back on the floor, he sat his empty glass on the table and quickly stood up to go down the hallway. Stopping at the bathroom he peeked inside. Everything was just as he'd left his bath—even to the blue towel part way out of the hamper. He blinked, then strode purposefully down to the bedroom. Stopping just inside the door, his eyes darted around the room. A few quick steps and he stood in front of the tall chest of drawers. Opening his shirt drawer, he looked inside and found white dress blouses! The drawer below held some black turtlenecks and a bulky cream fisherman's knit sweater. The slacks drawers held dress pants... for women! He didn't even want to peek inside the underwear drawer. Turning around, he strode to the closet and opened the door. Rummaging through, he found three off-the-rack black suits, a burgundy sport coat, a Soviet Naval uniform inside a garment bag, one really nice custom-tailored suit and some ties... but they were all obviously women's clothing. Staring in faint shock, he was unaware Napoleann had entered the bedroom until she spoke.
"Illya?"
Without looking at his partner, Illya said dryly, "It appears that I'm most definitely not in Kansas anymore..."
A few quick steps and she stood in front of the tall chest of drawers. Opening her shirt drawer, she looked inside and found white dress shirts! The drawer below held some black turtlenecks and a bulky cream fisherman's knit sweater. The slacks drawers held dress pants... for men! She didn't even want to peek inside the underwear drawer. Turning around, she strode to the closet and opened the door. Rummaging through, she found three off-the-rack black suits, a burgundy sport coat, a Soviet Naval uniform inside a garment bag, one really nice custom-tailored suit and some ties... but they were all obviously men's clothing. Staring in faint shock, she was unaware Napoleon had entered the bedroom until he spoke.
"Illya?"
Without looking at her partner, Illya said dryly, "It appears that I'm most definitely not in Kansas anymore..."
Napoleon stayed with Illya until the wee hours of the morning. Although they drank a bit, most of their time was spent in companionable silence. Finally, though, Napoleon yawned widely and stood up to leave. "I can pick you up in the morning if you want." offered Napoleon as he stretched out some of the kinks.
Illya looked up startled. "Is it that late?" she asked ruefully, pulling her hand through her hair. She stood up and, looking at Napoleon, offered hesitantly, "You're welcome to stay the night... like always..." her voice trailed off.
Napoleon grinned. "Tempting as that sounds, right now, sleeping in my own bed sounds even better." He looked down at his trousers as he pulled on his suit jacket. "Besides," he added, wrinkling his nose in disgust, "this suit has seen better days."
Illya grinned, her face carefully turned away from Napoleon, but only said dryly, "Far be it from me to comment on your attire..."
As Napoleon reached the door he asked, "So what about it? Do you want a ride in?"
Illya hesitated a moment. "I think I'd like to take the subway." Running her hand through her hair again, making it stand on end she tried to explain. "As familiar or rather, unfamiliar as this all is, I think I'd like to see for myself. The changes... or, the... " Her voice trailed off.
Napoleon gave her arm a squeeze (just like he'd give his male partner). "Illya, you don't have to explain. I know it's weird for me so it's really got to be doubly weird for you. Look, I'll see you at work tomorrow, okay?"
Illya gave a small smile. "Tomorrow. Goodnight Napoleon."
"Goodnight." Napoleon left the apartment, shutting the door after him.
Napoleann gave his arm a squeeze (just like she'd give her female partner). "Illya, you don't have to explain. I know it's weird for me so it's really got to be doubly weird for you. Look, I'll see you at work tomorrow, okay?"
Illya gave a small smile. "Tomorrow. Goodnight Napoleann."
"Goodnight." Napoleann left the apartment, shutting the door after her.
The next morning, Napoleann was drinking her second cup of coffee, trying not to watch the clock while attempting to read through reports. It wasn't like Illya to be late. In fact, she, er, he was usually early. She was just about to call down to reception when the office door opened and Illya walked in. Carefully keeping her eyes on the top report on her desk, Napoleann took a sip of her coffee.
"You do not need to pretend you were not waiting for me, Napoleann." Illya's soft voice was casual.
Napoleann looked up and studied her 'partner' closely. Shaking her head, she growled, "It isn't fair. You had as little sleep as I did- probably less, but you don't show it."
"Superior genes." Illya smirked. Then sitting down at 'his' desk, he slipped on the glasses that were laying on the side of the desk before pulling out the first report to work on it. He'd gotten as far as the first couple of paragraphs when he suddenly dropped his pen and let the report slip from his hands. "Bozhe moi..." he whispered.
Napoleann looked over in concern. "What is it, Illya?" she asked.
"Th-the glasses. Napoleann, these are her glasses... yet they fit me perfectly... the prescription... everything!"
Napoleann let out a long breath before saying softly, "Yet another proof of your theory." She smiled encouragingly
After a moment, Illya removed the glasses and laid them back down before looking up at Napoleann. "I want to—"
The phone rang.
"Kuryakin," said Illya, answering the phone. Silence as he listened a moment, then, "I'll be right down." Hanging up the phone he said, "I'm going down to the lab." Napoleann nodded in acknowledgement, busy with her own desk-full of reports.
Illya hastily placed the reports back inside the "in" box on his desk before leaving.
After he left, Napoleann quickly drained her cup, waiting to make sure Illya was gone before getting up herself. She planned to find out from Dr. Kovan what was going on with Illya. To her 'familiar' eye, he still looked much too pale not to mention the unusual, daily visits to medical. As CEA she planned to exert her authority and get some answers.
Illya stopped by the lavatory on the way to the lab. Inside the stall, he heard a group of men come in. One walked in one of the stalls while the other two were at the sinks.
"Oh, I'm so happy for you!" said one of the men.
"Thanks. We're excited about it, even though it's a bit sooner than we'd planned, but, you know how those things go," the other man responded in a happy tone.
"This is your first, isn't it Bob?" asked the man from the stall.
"Yes." answered Bob, the one who had received the congratulations.
Illya flushed the toilet, came out of his stall, and walked over to the sink to wash his hands. Curious, he asked, "What are the congratulations for?"
Bob Miller, a tall, slim man with light brown, curly hair blushed. "We're expecting our first child."
Illya smiled. "Well, then, congratulations are definitely in order. Um, when will the happy event occur?"
The blushing man got redder. "The doctor says in June." He sighed. "That only gives me maybe two more months."
Illya was confused. "Two more months?"
"Yes," Bob answered. "U.N.C.L.E. has a strict policy about working during pregnancies."
Illya was still confused, but nodded sagely to cover. Drying his hands, he said before leaving, "Well, then, good luck." He was still mulling over the odd conversation when he arrived in Simpson's office. Seeing Simpson was on the phone, he walked over to the lab assistant, Eric.
"Eric, do you know Bob Miller?"
Eric smiled. "Bob? We have lunch together pretty regularly. Is he okay?"
"As far as I know... um, he was saying he and his wife areexpecting a baby."
Eric's smile grew broader. "Yes, isn't it exciting?" His smile dimmed a bit. "I don't know where they're going to find a replacement, though. He often fills in with translations when they're short-handed." He frowned slightly. "It's too bad U.N.C.L.E. is so strict. Some places allow men to work right up until the delivery."
"Right up until—" Illya broke off suddenly. "Um, yes." He turned back to see Simpson still on the phone so he walked over to the library of reference books Simpson kept on hand. Studying the overflowing bookcase, he finally pulled out a book on human anatomy. Thumbing through the book, he stopped at the reproductive section, scanned over the pages and paled. Here, in this universe, the men had the babies...
Erica's smile grew broader. "Yes, isn't it exciting?" Her smile dimmed a bit. "I don't know where they're going to find a replacement, though. She often fills in with translations when they're short-handed." She frowned slightly. "It's too bad U.N.C.L.E. is so strict. Some places allow women to work right up until the delivery."
"Right up until—" Illya broke off suddenly. "Um, yes." She turned back to see Simpson still on the phone so she walked over to the library of reference books Simpson kept on hand. Studying the overflowing bookcase, she finally pulled out a book on human anatomy. Thumbing through the book, she stopped at the reproductive section, scanned over the pages and paled. Here, in this universe, the women had the babies...
Abruptly Illya left and rushed down to medical for another test, this one of her choosing. She'd suddenly realized that unlike the other women of this universe, she didn't have the same reproductive organs.
Although outwardly a woman in every sense, her internal reproductive system more closely resembled the males here. This would also help explain her physical strength which was more along the basis of comparison to the men here as well.
By this time, Illya was starting to feel somewhat faint. Deciding she was hungry, she quickly dressed and walked over to Dr. Kovan's office. She was about to knock when she heard a familiar timbre inside. What was Napoleon doing here?
"...so you're still willing to field certify her?"
Dr. Kovan's response was mumbled.
"Okay, let me know if you learn anything more."
The door started to open and for an instant, Illya thought about ducking out of sight, but decided to confront her partner directly.
Napoleon was startled to see Illya just outside the door. "Oh, uh, hi Illya. Er, would you like to get lunch somewhere?"
Illya glared at Napoleon. "What are you doing here?" Her voice was very quiet but had a dangerous edge to it.
Dr. Kovan looked at his watch. "I have a slight errand," he murmured, "Why don't you use my office..."
Still glaring at Napoleon, Illya said, "Thank you, doctor, but I believe we're finished here." Illya strode purposefully to their shared office, pulled on her suit jacket and checked her desk. Locking it, she reached for her overcoat.
"Where are you going? Napoleon asked quietly.
"I am leaving early." Looking at Napoleon boldly, she demanded, "Is this a problem?"
"It's not like you to run away," stated Napoleon bluntly.
Illya shrugged. "Going home is not my definition of running away. I am tired and I am hungry. Those things will be taken care of at my apartment." She looked around the office. "If I am needed, I can be reached by communicator."
"Illya," Napoleon sighed, "we need to talk. Dr. Kovan—"
"Napoleon..." Illya's voice was low. "If you must insist on talking about this, it will not be here."
"Okay." Napoleon tidied his own papers rapidly. As he locked his desk, he said, "We can pick up something and eat at my place."
Illya was about to say 'no' just on general principles, but realized she was still feeling... off. The shot she'd had first thing this morning had not made any perceptible difference. Maybe food would help. And, much as she hated to admit it, Napoleon's place was a better location for this discussion than her 'own' place. At least there, she wouldn't have to see all the weirdly similar-but-different clothing.
Illya was about to say 'no' just on general principles, but realized he was still feeling... off. The shot he'd had first thing this morning had not made any perceptible difference. Maybe food would help. And, much as he hated to admit it, Napoleann's place was a better location for this discussion than his 'own' place. At least there, he wouldn't have to see all the weirdly similar-but-different clothing.
They stopped for Chinese take-out. Setting the bags on the table, Napoleann filled the kettle to boil water for tea. As Illya began to set out the numerous cartons on the table, Napoleann brought over plates and silverware. Walking back to the cupboard, she pulled out a teapot and cups and as she searched, found an unopened bag of ginger snaps that she also pulled out. As she put some out on a plate, she asked, "Do you want a drink?" as she walked over to the refrigerator and looked inside the freezer. "I still have that bottle of Stolichnaya."
"What is that saying you use... ah, 'is the Pope Catholic'?" Illya quirked the corners of his mouth up in a 'ghost' grin.
They settled into a comfortable silence as they ate.
Finally, the food gone, Napoleann pushed herself up and started to clear the table. Illya crushed the empty boxes and threw them away as Napoleann picked up their drinks and carried them into the living room where she placed them on the coffee table. Illya hesitated, then picked up the plate of ginger snaps and set them out by the drinks. Sitting down on the couch, he reached for a cookie and bit into it. Purchased at one of the local bakeries, they were fresh, the ginger flavor sharp.
"Okay, Illya. Let's talk." Napoleann saw no point in delaying their discussion. "What exactly is going on?"
Illya looked into his glass, refusing to meet Napoleann's eyes. Napoleann waited, giving him time. She knew it was difficult for the Russian to open up and talk, particularly when related to deeply personal matters. Studying the tense figure, Napoleann waited, wishing there was more she could do. Her patience was finally vindicated. When Illya brought his head up, Napoleann could see what looked like despair cross his face for a moment.
After a sigh, Illya said ruefully, "You're not going to let this go are you?"
Napoleann shook her head. "No," she answered softly.
Another sigh. After a moment Illya muttered something under his breath before saying with an edge in his voice, "I was going to tell you… I just wanted some more time"
His tone sent a small frisson of fear into Napoleann. Whatever Illya was going to tell her was not good.
In a flat tone, Illya continued. "We've established through extensive tests, that I really am 'Illya.' Dr. Kovan has run a great many tests as well." A familiar sound of irritation had crept into his voice at that last remark. Returning to the flat, unemotional timbre he continued. "While most things have been the same: geography, codes, equipment, structures—even people—except for gender–all have followed the same rules. Physics apply here in obvious things like inertia, gravity, electricity. These all follow the same principles and reactions in both universes.
"However, there are also significant differences. Gender, as we know, followed by clothing, personal names, and... biology. Biology seems to be the most crucial." He waited a moment as Napoleann nodded her understanding. With another sigh, he continued. "Biologically, I'm not simply a different gender here. I have internal differences as well. For example, in my universe, women have babies. In addition to being less muscular, smaller height, hands, feet, bone structure... they are the ones who reproduce. Here, it is the opposite. Napoleann, my body is not like the men here." He grimaced. "I cannot get pregnant."
Napoleann broke in, gentle and reassuring, "Illya, not everyone can have children. Sometimes it…" Seeing Illya's grim expression, she stopped.
"There's more. Other things within my body are not functioning in the same manner as in the men in this universe. Because of this my body is beginning to shut down." He looked down at his feet. "I am dying."
Napoleann was stunned. She thought she'd lost her partner in that terrible explosion, only to have this Illya appear. Finding the same feelings of safety, rapport... friendship, she found herself accepting this 'new' Illya as her partner. Definitely not a replacement, since... well, Illya was Illya. Even though she'd quickly established it was the same intangible and unusual rapport that she had with her 'usual' partner, there were enough differences so she'd never confuse the two. Losing Illya—either Illya—was just not an option and she was damned if she was going to lose Illya again!
Napoleann jumped up and began pacing agitatedly. "No!" she whispered fiercely, "You are not going to die! There must be something..."
Illya watched for a moment before reaching out and stopping her by grasping her forearm. He maintained the connection, eyes locked, until Napoleann relaxed and sat back down on the couch.
They sat together in silence, deep in thought as they sipped their drinks.
Finally, Napoleann said, "So, that's why you've been meeting with Simpson? To try and figure out what to do?"
Illya nodded. "After Dr. Kovan's findings, Simpson and I believe it's because I don't belong here." He shrugged casually, "So, I have to go back."
It made sense of course.
"Any ideas?" Napoleann kept her voice steady and conversational. Just like any regular planning session. Just like Illya's life wasn't… No! There had to be something that could be done. "What does Simpson say?" she asked abruptly.
"Simpson? Oh, we've tossed some ideas around."
"Such as?"
Illya tried to explain, "Oh, mostly speculation about the possibilities of reversing the effects. If I could be returned, the theory is that the other Illya would also return. Then, and this is all supposition, the effects should right themselves and all would be as it should. Or there is the—"
"How?" interrupted Napoleann.
"What? Oh…" Illya sounded distracted. "We have no idea." Seeing Napoleann's stunned look, he elaborated, "Napoleann—this is all strictly theory. Besides," he gave a small shrug, "at this point of venture, the best case scenario would be to use the doctor's device… if he still has it and it still functions."
Napoleann took a breath. "So… we must locate the doctor and relieve him of his device—correct?"
Illya gave a sideways look. "Yes, that is essentially the idea."
Napoleann rubbed her hands together, "Well then, let's get started. We have a doctor to find and a comrade to save!"
"Napoleann." Illya's flat tones cut into Napoleann's exuberance. "Napoleann, while it is all very grand to find Dr. Conrad in and of itself, Ms. Waverly will never agree to us dropping everything just to bring him in. We are not vigilantes. And…" here the Russian's voice faltered slightly, "there is no way she would authorize the expenses and extensive use of U.N.C.L.E. resources for one individual."
"No!" Napoleann was emphatic.
Illya finished his drink and stood up. "It's getting late. I should go."
Napoleann abruptly set her own glass down as she stood up as well. "Illya…" her mouth suddenly dry she rasped out, "I…" Napoleann stopped suddenly at a loss for words. What do you say when your partner is all too accurate in his assessment of an impossible situation.
Illya finished her drink and stood up. "It's getting late. I should go."
Napoleon abruptly set his own glass down as he stood up as well. "Illya…" his mouth suddenly dry he rasped out, "I…" Napoleon stopped suddenly at a loss for words. What do you say when your partner is all too accurate in her assessment of an impossible situation.
They stood that way for a few minutes. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Napoleon spoke in a quiet, determined tone. "We will find a way to beat this, Illya, whatever it takes. I'll see to it personally." Napoleon was furious at the circumstances and the frustration he felt at his inability to fix it made him even angrier.
Illya quirked a tiny ironic grin. "Napoleon, only you would have the immense ego and audacity to think you can control the very elements." A heel click and sharp incline of her head was her deference to the 'authority' Napoleon had wielded.
Napoleon offered a lopsided grin. "I'll see you in the morning then."
Illya merely raised an eyebrow and left.
9
