CHAPTER THREE

APRIL – Mostly Concerning Pain and Anger

It must have been one of the hardest…and longest days of my life. I have seen my friend Napoleon upset, hurt and anguished when things happen to his partner, and let's face it, it is natural. I am no different when my partner Mark gets hurt, and he, me.

This though…Illya has always been so hard to fathom and impossible to penetrate. When I first learned that he was getting married, I was ecstatic! All right, I was devastated that he would have to leave section two, but forget that. That's just a job at the end of the day. He was a guy who always seemed to be on the verge of being a happy man but never quite able to banish the demons from his past. Now he had found a woman who found the chink in his defences, but instead of prizing them open and peering in, she had stood back and let him open his own heart to her. If anyone could make him a truly happy man, it was Claire.

Neither Illya or Napoleon know this…well, until now that is, but I happened to bump into Claire a few months after she and Illya had broken up, but long before they got back together again. She had confided in me that she was head over heels in love with him, and terrified that he might lose interest or find someone else. He had not told her where he worked or anything, but he had told her that his position would change on his fortieth birthday and thereafter he would be free to live his private life anyway his wished. She had been willing she said, to wait for him for as long as it took, but she was not sure she would still be sane by then. When I asked her what she meant, she told me then that she was dreaming every single night of Illya. In her dreams, either he was killed, or he was whisked away to the alter by some other young bride and it was starting to get to her. She told me she had considered telling him, but she refused to do that because it would put unfair pressure on him!

How they got together in the end I don't know. I never got the chance to ask Claire, and…well, that is one of Illya's private memories now that I don't want to invade.

As you might have already gathered, there was no good news about poor Claire. She was wheeled out of surgery and they did everything they could for her, but she was so badly hurt, the surgeons told me that her chances were no better than very slim.

Mister Waverly and some of Claire's family arrived after that, so Mark and I got out of the way and started going round the section three agents acting as sentries. The one guarding Illya's room told us almost indignantly that Mister Solo was in the room now with Mister Kuryakin, and that Solo had threatened to knock him down if he didn't let him pass. Apparently Mister Waverly had finally come along and made it an order. At that moment, Mark's communicator beeped. It was Mister Waverly. He gave us the news that Mrs. Claire Kuryakina had just passed away without waking up.

I glanced apprehensively at my partner. I felt like I been kicked in the belly. How on earth was Illya going to get through this latest heartbreak? Mark and I both had to swallow our personal feelings at this point, because the order had been given that we were to pass on the news to Napoleon. Which of us was to be blessed with the task? Without making any conscious decision, we pushed open the door, and both of us crept in. Napoleon looked up.

"Hey you two. How is Claire doing?"

Napoleon saw us glance at each other, and I sat on my heels and let my right hand rest lightly on his left knee. He stared at my hand for more than ten seconds, and then he sucked in a sudden shaky breath, and he rested his forehead on Illya's hand. His shoulders were shaking. It was the first time I ever saw Napoleon cry.

I glanced at Mark.

"When Illya wakes up, he will want to go and see her I expect…might be as well to find where she is, perhaps they'll let her stay where she is until…"

Mark nodded, and vanished, I think, thankfully. I pulled up another chair and sat beside Napoleon, putting my hand on his back, just to let him know that I was there. He never even acknowledged me until Illya began to stir. Napoleon glanced at me, and made a movement with his eyes. One I understood well enough. This was a moment a section two and their partner needed privacy.

I can't possibly tell what happened in that room between Napoleon and Illya. The duty nurse, no doubt realizing the tragic news that had to be delivered, had temporarily made herself scarce, and I stood outside the door beside security, feeling tired and sick. Sick in stomach and in soul. Section two agents were out now, scouring the area around the registry building searching for the gunmen, or for signs of them, so for now until there was something more solid to go on, I was stuck there in the hospital feeling helpless and angry.

It can't have been more than three minutes after Illya had woken up, before the door flew open as though it had been kicked, and Illya came out with an expression on his face I had never seen before. It wasn't anger, or grief, or pain, and yet it was all three of those things, mixed in too with an equal amount of fear and confusion. He also looked like fifty wild horses would not stop him. Napoleon came out after him, jogging to keep up. To my shock, Illya came up to me and grabbed me, quite hard, by both arms.

"Where is she? Where is my wife? April, where is she!?"

"Illya, cool it. This is not April's fault!" Napoleon pleaded beside him. Illya seemed not to hear. I raised my hand.

"It's okay Napoleon. Illya, she was in the intensive care unit, next floor up. Mark's up there looking for her."

Illya was gone before I had even finished speaking. Napoleon paused briefly, locking gazes with me. He looked more upset than I had ever seen him.

"You remember Illya and his niece…I mean his daughter Katiya have been writing for the last three months, ever since we got back from Russia?"*

I nodded. I remembered. I was the one who had engineered the arrangement in the first place. Napoleon raised a sad smile.

"He wrote her in his last letter all about Claire, and how much he was looking forward to introducing them to each other one day. Now, next time he writes her he'll have to…"

He broke off, and turned away.

"I'd better follow and make sure he doesn't kill anyone."

I turned back to the section three man now guarding an empty room.

"You'd best stay put for the time being. Likely they'll sedate him and bring him back here. If not, I'll call you and let you know. Agent Whiting isn't it?"

"Yes ma'am." Whiting replied. I didn't feel up to smiling, so I gave him a nod, and hurried up the stairs. I opened my communicator.

"Open Channel D. Section one, Number one."

"Waverly here."

"Sir, Mister Kuryakin's awake. Mister Solo has given him the news, and he leapt out of bed and is heading upstairs fast."

Waverly acknowledged and signed off. He knew well enough why I had called him. He had no illusions about Illya being a good little agent and behaving himself. Illya was grieving desperately; quite understandably, he was angry, if anger could ever be a strong enough word for it. Righteous anger is powerful enough, but anger powered by grief can easily get out of control, and an out-of-control Illya is a very, very dangerous thing.

I found my partner upstairs outside the intensive care room where Claire Kuryakina still lay, the machines that had been trying to keep her alive now still and silent. Illya was bent over the bed, cradling her in his arms. I beckoned to Mark and Napoleon, and we closed the door ajar to give Illya a little privacy at this most personal time. Napoleon, I could see, was extremely worried about his partner, and although we were out of earshot, he kept watch through the glass door.

"What's he doing mate?" Mark whispered after a minute or two, rather tactlessly in my opinion. I rolled my eyes and Napoleon turned looking furious.

"His wife has just been murdered, Mister Slate. What would you be doing in his place?"

Mark shuffled his feet uncomfortably, and mumbled.

"Sorry, I didn't mean that. It's just that there is an escape ladder outside the window in there. If IK wants out, he's not gonna come back this way is he? With the three of us trying to make him be sensible and patient."

Solo frowned and turned back.

"Damn it! He's gone! Mark, April go the other way, try to find him. I'll follow him this way! Go!"

Napoleon entered the room and started down the fire escape. Mark made to run back down the corridor and stopped when he saw I wasn't following.

"April, we gotta move! We don't know what he'll do in the state he's in!"

I shook my head.

"Mark, he's upset and grieving. He's not a mad man. Not yet anyway. You go, I have an idea. I'll follow you if it doesn't pan out."

Mark nodded and disappeared. He clearly was puzzled, but at least he has learned to trust my intuition as I have learned to trust his. When they were gone, I crouched down below the level of the glass and waited. And waited.

I had just decided that I must be wrong after all when the IC door opened, and Illya's face peered out. I stood up and he scowled.

"Why can't you all just leave me alone?"

"You know why, Illya. I'm so sorry my friend. It's just so unfair. Where are her parents now?"

Illya stared at me, his eyes wide.

"They were here…the nurses that were taking care of Claire told me they left, but would be back…"

I spoke gently to him.

"Illya, isn't it likely they will have gone downstairs looking for you?"

"Max and Gloria…and Andy and Joel…and Ellie too…"

He slid down the wall, staring at me with his eyes wide and damp.

"What will I do without her, April?"

I had no answer for him. I sat beside him on the floor, and he put his head on my shoulder.

How long we sat there for I couldn't say, but after a few minutes, he raised his knees and rested his elbows on them, and cradled his head in his hands. I put my hand on his shoulder, uncertain quite how to treat him. Illya is not my partner, after all.

Mister Waverly arrived quite soon after that, and it was then I realized I had neglected to call Mark and Napoleon to tell them not to worry about Illya. Mister Waverly' s presence seemed to bring Illya out of his self-absorption. With him were Claire's parents and her two brothers; Illya's inlaws. Or would they have been ex-inlaws already, now Claire had gone? How unfair it is! Illya got himself to his feet, a mere shell of the man he had been only that very morning, and it seemed he could not bring himself to look into anyone's eyes.

Gloria Buchanan, poor woman, was sobbing pitifully, and when she saw Illya, she grabbed him without any awkwardness or embarrassment and hugged him closely, sobbing even harder. Max, her husband, a large man, around six and a half feet tall enwrapped the both of them in a hug whilst their sons, Andy and Joel stared looking miserably through the door at their sister still laying on the bed in the IC room. Mister Waverly touched my shoulder and motioned for me to follow him. Once we were out of earshot he smiled wanly.

"This is a moment for Mister Kuryakin to be with his family."

I looked at my boss, concerned.

"Sir, knowing Illya, will he accept them as his family? They seem to think a lot of him, but I imagine, knowing Illya, that he would find spending time with them will only remind him all the more of everything he's lost."

Waverly nodded sadly.

"You're probably right, but perhaps for now at least, they can help each other. Everything has been a shock, that is certain."

Mark came up, panting.

"We didn't find him! I suppose you knew where he was, did you April?"

"No, but I wanted to make sure he wasn't hiding in order to try and get away on his own. He's upstairs now with the Buchanans."

Mark nodded.

"That's a relief. I'll let Solo know he's safe."

"Mister Slate;" Waverly put in. "Please tell Mister Solo that I want to see him in five minutes in doctor Carrick's office. You two, stay here for now. Keep an eye on Mister Kuryakin. Make sure you know where he is at all times."

Mister Waverly hurried away, and Mark and I looked at each other.

"The old man is afraid Illya will go off on some rampage as soon as he can get away. You know what'll happen if he does take matters into his own hands without orders don't you?"

I nodded. Waverly would not be able to protect him. He would be at the least charged and sacked from UNCLE, and then probably kicked out of the country. If he returned to the Soviet Union having been sent home in disgrace, his own people would have him up before the firing squad.

Mark went off on another round of the UNCLE security men, whilst I stayed put at the foot of the stairs. Eventually, the sound of footsteps could be heard and I looked up into the eyes of Claire's two brothers. They nodded as they approached me, and Joel said;

"Friend of Illya? UNCLE wasn't it?"

I nodded.

"April Dancer. I'm a friend and a colleague. I'm so sorry about Claire. I know people are always saying it, but I do mean it…if there is anything I can do…?"

They looked at each other, and Joel nodded.

"I know he's a Ruskie an' all, but Illya's a really good bloke. Our Claire was a good judge of people, and she was dotty on him. Has been for over a year. Every time we saw her, Illya was all she could think about. Take care of him, Miss Dancer. He's in deep hole right now, and I hate to see that. He was so happy this morning, and now…" his voice broke and his brother clapped him on the shoulder.

"He's just saying, over and over again `this is the last time. Never again. I'll be alone if I have to, but it's never happening again!' What does it mean? Do you know?"

I felt the tears finally break free and roll down my face. I wiped them away hurriedly with the heel of my hand.

"Illya was married once before…he had a wife and son." I sniffed, and wiped more tears away. "Elinor and Dimitry drowned in the river Danube during a thunderstorm three years ago, just before Illya came to this country…just a tragic accident, but…"

The two men nodded sadly.

"That would explain why he's so closed up." Andy commented. "He's a widower twice over…how can any man deal with that? He'll die unmarried now, won't he? Thanks to our Claire?"

I shook my head.

"No, thanks to the maniacs who killed her. We'll get them, I promise you. We'll get them and make them pay."

Andy nodded.

"I believe you. That is just what Illya said…right before he went down the fire escape!"

* Reference The Lake Of Tears Affair