New York – Year: 1976

The last two years had been more than a little difficult for Illya Kuryakin and Napoleon Solo. With Napoleon forcibly retired from field work, Illya had been somewhat on his own. He could have easily taken another partner into the field, but knowing the deep partnership that lay between the two men Alexander Waverly, number one section one, had chosen to assign Illya to training assignments with two new agents just getting into the field. Illya had fostered a number of good partnerships that few had thought would work; not that it was by coddling them by any means. Illya had simply done what had worked for him and Napoleon, giving the two agents something in common to fight against – him.

Napoleon had retired, but hadn't chosen the option of a new life, instead he had gone into section one, the administration of UNCLE. He had wanted to see for himself that his partner made it to forty and in one piece. He was also doing his best to find Mr. Waverly a new successor. Ever since Illya had made the discovery that both of them healed perfectly, even to the point of healing old scar tissue that had been reinjured, he had known that he would not be able to take Mr. Waverly's place as the head of UNCLE. Wrinkles, age spots, grey hair, all of that was the result of cells not replacing themselves perfectly.

Neither Napoleon nor his partner would be able to age. They'd already had to start using cosmetics to give the illusion that they were getting older, Illya especially. His baby faced partner had always looked younger than he was. They wouldn't be able to pull it off for much longer, not day in and day out around people who spied for a living. There was only one chance for both of them to keep this information to themselves, which was necessary if they wanted to live long enough to make it to old age.

Napoleon had made sure that he was close by on Illya's fortieth birthday. There was a small ritual conducted by the younger agents when seeing a retiring one off. Other jobs had gold watches given when one retired, they had gold handcuffs. Only about a quarter of their fellow agents made it long enough to wear them. Death, maiming beyond the ability to return to the field, or more rarely, marriage all took its toll on their ranks.

Napoleon watched with a smile as several young agents, most notably two pairs of partners that Illya had mentored, marched his rather cranky partner off to the HR office, his hands cuffed in front of him. He followed the small procession, a set of folders in his hand. He knew the choice that Illya would make. Standing in front of the HR head, Illya went through the paperwork that revoked his status as an enforcement agent. Never again would he work for UNCLE as a field operative.

"Now that that's over," Napoleon said as he stepped forward. The agents quickly removed the handcuffs, turned them over to one of the HR secretaries, and fled the room. No one really wanted to get on Illya's bad side and they weren't sure that he wasn't going to stick around just to torment them a little more. "Which option are you going to choose, partner mine?"

He grinned at Illya's smirk. They'd worked this out years before, on the off chance that they'd survive long enough. "Medical school," Illya answered. It was the obvious choice knowing their situation. Illya was the scientist of the pair. He would have to be the one to research their condition. Napoleon didn't expect that finding any answers would help all that much, or that they would come any time soon, but they still needed those answers. Illya was also the only one stubborn enough to pursue this puzzle.

"Then here is your new identity," Napoleon said as he handed over the top file. Oh he was going to have fun with this. It was really cruel of him, but he couldn't help himself. Illya was a master of undercover operations. There was no doubt that his partner could pull it off, but Illya was going to strangle him for choosing a persona so far removed from his own. The name was a particularly bright red cherry on top of the humiliation for his reserved partner.

Illya opened it and read his new name. "Donald 'Ducky' Mallard?" he asked. "Napoleon, I'm going to kill you," he said with the ease of someone who had said it more than once. "You do know that this means I get to choose your retirement? I'm thinking something along the lines of a long term placement in a monastery."

"Oh I have no doubt that you'll come up with something very good to get even with me," Napoleon admitted. "Now, Waverly and his wife are going to be playing your parents, so you have an excuse to come around. Mrs. Waverly was most insistent about that."

They walked together towards the Del Floria's shop entrance. All of the arrangements had already been made, Illya saw as he looked through the file. He was enrolled at a local university going straight into the medical track. All of his general course requirements had been transferred from a college in Scotland. "Scottish?" he asked.

"Your English still sounds like you're from the British Isles, but not strong enough to be British yourself. This was as close as I could get," Napoleon explained. 'Illya, no he'd better get into the habit of Ducky' Napoleon thought. 'Ducky looked amused the more he looked through the file. I hope he likes his new life. Now all I have to do is find that replacement for me and I can join him.'