The room fell quiet as the two men contemplated each other and, with snatches of memory between them, the revelation that Illya's face betrayed to his friend.
Napoleon was caught between shock and a tingle of disappointment. Illya had fathered a child with Marian Raven, and had never told him. Partners, friends… but not enough so to share this important piece of information?
"Illya, I don't know quite what to say. But, I do need to ask you why…that is, why didn't you tell me? How long have you known about … a son, or a daughter… which is it?"
Illya looked miserable, the tears that had threatened to spill onto his face had remarkably disappeared. Leave it to the Russian to not finish a truly emotional moment.
Suddenly the room seemed claustrophobic, and the thought of divulging what had been kept secret for all of these years caused his throat to tighten in anticipation of it. Napoleon should have known, might have figured it out had he ever stopped to consider how quickly Marion had found a husband and then given birth to a child. A daughter.
"I have a daughter. Her name is Nicolette; a small gesture on Marian's part to capture a part of my name.'
He paused and let another memory illustrate the moment.
"She looks like her mother."
Wistful. That was the word for it, Napoleon thought. Illya looked wistful.
"Considering how much you two looked alike, I imagine she also resembles you, my friend. How long have you know about her?"
Illya slumped back into the chair, his appearance suddenly matching his age. For just a brief moment, time threatened to catch up to the eternally youthful blond. Napoleon made a note of it, then mentally tossed it aside.
"Look, Illya…'
What to say to the man? His friend had a child he couldn't claim as his own, and people were shooting at them for a reason not yet clarified for the older man. Reuniting with his old partner had certainly brought back some of the old lifestyle, like ducking behind doors and trying to avoid being killed.
"How is this related to what happened at your work, or the shot that was fired at us outside of the restaurant?"
How indeed? How had Illya let Marion steal his heart all of those years ago? Why did he agree to give up his child? UNCLE had cost the Russian over the years, but this hurt more than any amount of THRUSH torture or broken love affairs. It hurt worse than the debacle in Yugoslavia when the girl had died and Janus had betrayed him.
Illya had lost his only child, given her up to another man. She called someone else 'father', learned to ride a bicycle under his tutelage, had run into his arms for comfort when she fell.
How was it related?
"Marion's first husband was Gerald Lindsay. He became Nicolette's father, and never questioned Marion about … about me. She never told him…"
Napoleon hated this, and watching his friend he knew that this narrative was difficult to tell. The normally unreadable face was taut with emotions that hadn't surfaced in years, probably.
"Illya…"
The blond shook his head.
"I need for you to know this now. I should have told you back then… when it happened. I was too shell shocked, and afraid of Waverly. I thought he might send me back to Russia if I was caught fathering children all over Manhattan. I was a coward, really. I should have … I could have done more, or done something differently…"
Napoleon had to smile.
"All over Manhattan. Illya, really. I had no idea."
Illya smiled at that, the first one in hours.
"You know what I mean. We were supposed to act according to those high standards, and getting our innocents pregnant was not included in those. We were still just barely partners.'
Illya sighed and leaned his head onto the back of the chair.
"I was crazy about her. She scared me, though. It was all so… perfect."
Napoleon raised an eyebrow at that.
"And perfect was frightening to you? Were you really that… naïve?"
Another smile from the man behind Vanya. Those years were so far away now.
"No, not naïve. But I wasn't completely certain of things here, of the people or where I stood in the big scheme of things. I should have trusted you, though. And for not trusting you, your friendship, I apologize."
Napoleon had known his Russian partner struggled at times with life in New York, with small pockets of prejudice. He hadn't paid a lot of attention to the young Soviet early on in their partnership. It was all about the work in the beginning, of finding that balance between efficiency and trust.
Illya had not been the easiest man to get to know, and only a deepening of their friendship had finally alerted Napoleon to why: the younger man's background was rife with turmoil, from his childhood to the moment he signed on with UNCLE. There had never been an agent from the Soviet Union, and being first was no easier for Kuryakin than for any other experimental archetype.
London had been difficult for him as a new recruit, and New York had presented its own problems, not the least of which was getting shot up on one of their earliest assignments. Illya had almost died that day. Amazingly, it wouldn't be the last time.
Now Napoleon realized how abruptly Illya and Marion had broken off their relationship. What had begun as a bright spot in the life of the normally solitary Russian had ended without fanfare or warning. Thinking back on it now, Napoleon couldn't remember Illya talking about her from that point forward. It was simply over.
"How long have you known about … Nicolette? Did Marion tell you she was pregnant?"
Illya closed his eyes again, thinking back to when he first knew of the baby girl he would not be allowed to parent. There had been a casual encounter at a well known restaurant; Illya had a date with him that night and Marian was with her husband. At the time Illya was unaware of the couple, but he did remember to the day when he had last seen her; it was the day he walked out of her apartment for the last time.
Marion and Gerald Lindsay. Illya was a little surprised, but tried to conceal his emotions for the sake of his date. It was awkward and a little heartbreaking, even though the decision to end the relationship had been Illya's. There had been something about Marion that night, something unexplained until Illya learned she was pregnant. In spite of her happiness at expecting a child, a melancholy floated around Marion and wafted around the two couples until it began to permeate the dumbfounded Russian. They all attempted to make light conversation in the few minutes they shared, but their news had brought on a gloom with which Illya was too familiar.
Marion was pregnant with his child, and he knew it. She knew instantly that he had figured it out, and only Gerald and Sharon, Illya's date that night, were left ignorant as to why each of their companions suddenly fell into a silent brooding.
After the baby was born, Illya had stolen into the Lindsay home in the early morning hours to see his daughter. Only once, and never again did he venture into her life.
Until now.
"Gerald Lindsay died last year under very mysterious circumstances. His company was taken over by a man called Roberts. Nathan Roberts. He worked his way into the vice-presidency of Gerald's company in record time and now occupies the seat previously held by Marion's deceased husband… Nicolette's father."
Napoleon's heart went out to his friend with that last sentence. Having to refer to another man as his own daughter's father…
"Illya, what is this leading up to, because I know it's going somewhere."
Illya raised his left eyebrow, a smile played at the corners of his mouth. The intrigue just never stopped.
"Yes, it is leading right to the door of the birdhouse, Napoleon. THRUSH, in its reincarnation as legitimate business enterprises, controls Nathan Roberts. And, Nathan Roberts knows that I am Nicolette's real father. He also knows that I was, or am… whatever it is we are these days… an UNCLE agent. He knows who I am."
Napoleon was still a little baffled by this situation. Why was Nicolette involved in this? Or was she? Perhaps Illya was being over-protective.
"What exactly does this company do? Why is THRUSH so interested in it?"
Illya pushed his hair back with both hands, exposing the broad forehead, suddenly looking much as he had fifteen years earlier.
"Dynatel is a communications company that is leading the way in computerized telephony. They have contracts with NASA, foreign governments, and major corporations. Need I go on? If THRUSH were to gain control of a company with that kind of far reaching technology…"
"Yeah, I see that.'
Napoleon did see it; he had sold his own computer company and knew firsthand the demands that were on tap for technology companies.
"What I don't understand is how your daughter figures into all of this."
At that question Illya stood up and walked to the window where he stood looking out, his body language radiating tension.
"Marion is engaged to marry Roberts. The only thing standing between them is me, and what I know about him. And, the only thing keeping me from warning her is my concern for Nicolette. For once in my life, my friend, I am afraid of the consequences."
Napoleon had risen from the sofa and was now standing beside his friend. Marion and Nathan Roberts. It was inconceivable that Illya's daughter might soon have a THRUSH for a stepfather.
"What do you want us to do, tovarisch?"
