Napoleon hadn't expected to see Sarah Moffett any time soon, so he was pleasantly surprised when he got her message that she was in London for a few days. She offered to meet with him, a place he chose, and Napoleon decided on one of the front offices from U.N.C.L.E.
It was a small building, a restored townhouse, surrounded by more townhouses, all with perfectly groomed gardens, clean fronts, and some had plaques attached declaring who worked here. In U.N.C.L.E.'s case it was an accounting firm that was used as a cover.
"You look well, Miss Moffett," he greeted the red-head as she walked into the living room.
"I can return the compliment," she replied with a smile.
"Where's your better half?"
"Enjoying the sights. Yours?"
"Probably skulking around in the attic."
Sarah laughed. Napoleon's smile stayed friendly and neutral.
"I was surprised to hear from you," he said conversationally.
"Your Commander Waverly seems to be recruiting."
Napoleon just raised his eyebrows.
Sarah shrugged. "So far it would be a loan, so to speak. Tim and I would become U.N.C.L.E.'s operatives, based mainly in the US, but with the option of world-wide travel."
"It has its perks."
"Probably. If you enjoy living out of a suitcase."
"The FBI sends you all over the country, too," Napoleon replied amiably. "Same suitcase, though less jetlag."
"True."
"So you had your recruitment speech?"
She chuckled. "More like a welcome speech. It's a done deal. We'll be colleague for a while."
Napoleon nodded. "Maybe for a lot longer than you planned for. Coffee? Tea?" he offered.
"Tea sounds fine."
UNCLE*
With the tea steeping, Sarah sat down and looked curiously at him.
"You have questions," she stated. "About the bond you share with your Sentinel."
"Seems so," Napoleon replied. "Things have… developed. In a rather unexpected way. I'm not quite used to… this kind of unexpected."
She nodded. "Seeing that you and Mr. Kuryakin are by far the most unique pairing I've met, I can believe that. I promise that whatever you talk to me about, whatever we talk about, it will stay confidential."
Napoleon tilted his head a little, regarding her carefully. Sarah was a Guide and as such empathic. She was a pretty good listener and Napoleon hadn't felt unwell around her for all the time the two teams had worked together. She was a likeable person and quietly competent, and he trusted her as much as he would anyone he had worked together and not been betrayed by.
In Sentinel-Guide matters she was the only one he would think about talking to. It was an instinct, a gut feeling, and he trusted in that, too. It hadn't failed him when it had been Illya.
"What about your Sentinel?" he now asked.
"I trust him."
It was a simple but very truthful answer. Napoleon understood where it came from, how she could believe it without question.
He trusted Illya the same.
UNCLE*
They talked for a long time. Mostly Napoleon at first, about the sudden appearance of their spirit animals. How Illya's was so… strange. How the bond had become so solid all of a sudden. How the wolfthing had hovered around Napoleon.
Sarah listened. Nodded. Pursed her lips and nodded some more.
"Do you know what a spirit animal is?" she asked when Napoleon was done.
"A representation of us."
Another nod. "Of you, your skills. Some say it's of your soul."
Napoleon didn't respond. He had never paid the whole mystic aspect of the Sentinels and Guides much attention. He never had to. He had never been involved in any of it.
Now… now it was so very different.
So he had a spirit animal. As did Illya.
"Usually they are animals found in nature. They can be big or small, mammals, birds or reptiles, even waterbound ones. Those are quite rare, though. A fox and a wolf are rather common, something we know. Your fox's unusual color has no meaning. The wolf's appearance… that is quite… unusual."
"It's what I perceive when I look at Illya," he said softly.
She raised her eyebrows. Napoleon knew he was divulging private information, but it was also something only another receptive could understand.
So he talked about the darkness at the other end of the anchor bond. A vortex that swallowed everything, that was a representation of his Sentinel and so much more. The sharpness, the lethal air, the way it was biting and snapping, but to him it was nothing but familiar and warm. It matched him, it was perfect and gentle. It never hurt him.
"Oh," she murmured, looking slightly shocked. "Oh wow."
He laughed a little. "Yes, in a way."
"Tim… well, it's not like that with him. I know he's there, can sense me and I can sense him, but there is nothing like this… And it doesn't overwhelm you at all?"
"No."
"So the wolf is him, with the darkness. And it grows more real… with the fox? The fox is the anchor?"
He nodded.
"He needs you."
"I know that, Sarah."
She played with the tea spoon. "What I mean is that he needs you to be human, not to be a Sentinel."
"That I know, too."
"The wolf shows what you wouldn't see otherwise. It's the representation of your Sentinel's soul. Do you understand the implications, Solo?"
"That we're unique, that I'm not his Guide, he's a self-sufficient Alpha Sentinel, which is a complete contradiction?" He shrugged, trying to appear careless. "Knew all that."
"Yes, Alphas are the hardest Sentinels to pair with strong enough Guides. They need a very strong receptive, an empath trained to handle what is coming their way. Alphas either find that one person or they burn out."
Napoleon was quite aware of that. "They have all five senses, whih makes them powerful. They have an A-level, an Alpha status to boot, but they are the ones who can be easily overwhelmed," he recited what he read before. "And we know what an odd duck Illya is."
Sarah smiled. "You might say that. What could be called an aberration is a huge advantage. The downside is that your partner had lost touch with what it meant to be just himself."
"Which is where I came in, the one most unlikeliest Guide."
"And what he needed." Sarah studied him curiously. "I still find that most interesting, but I'm not an expert. I just read a lot. Usually spirit animals materialize in such situations you went through. Nearly dying. You enter the spirit plane and you can see them. Or throughout meditation."
"Never meditated in my life. And I was in out apartment when I saw them the first time."
Sarah looked intrigued and frustrated in one. "And they keep coming back?"
"They've been around."
"Not normal," she repeated.
"I noticed. So, ideas?"
She laughed a little. "Too many and not the right ones. All I can tell you is that spirit animals are not dangerous, but yours are misbehaving. I've seen mine just once. Same with Tim's. They don't… interact with their respective partners."
"The fox plays with the wolf. Bites at him. Like it's playing. Then the wolf becomes more real. Like it needs…" Napoleon stopped, tilting his head, looking thoughtful all of a sudden. "Huh. Representations." It was a new kind of realization that had been in the back of his mind, but now it really hit him.
She nodded, smiling. "Illya needs you to be human. The wolf needs the fox to be more… real. They are you, your representations. Your interaction with them is fascinating. Or that his animal stayed with you."
"He's a worry wart."
"He is a Sentinel," Sarah agreed. "Tim is the same."
"He hovers?"
She chuckled. "Oh, yes."
Napoleon studied her, her relaxed pose, the way she openly looked at him without hiding anything.
"You two are close," he stated.
"Pairs are. Always. Our minds are connected, Agent Solo. It means closeness. We work together, live together. Whether it's platonic or not is your choice."
Sarah didn't elaborate and in that regard she was hard to read.
Napoleon suspected they were platonic with the occasional closer touch when Tim needed it. Then again, he might be wrong. For all her innocent, open appearance, Sarah Moffett was an agent and a trained Guide. She might be projecting a lot that wasn't true. He had never given the strange relationship between Sentinels and Guides a deeper thought. They could hardly find someone else, marry, have a family. Who wanted to have a husband or wife who was bonded to another person, aware of their well-being, was needed for them to function?
Could they even fall in love with someone or did the psychic connection overwrite that?
Again, he and Illya weren't the best example. Napoleon had found the other man attractive right from the start, before accidentally lowering his shields, before Illya had made him as a low-level receptive.
Before everything Napoleon had ever believed had come crashing down around him and his low-level status had been boosted to powerful Shield.
"I could look into this if you want," she offered. "Bonds like yours aren't exactly mentioned in the regular books. And Guides get training, especially to work with their Sentinel and to use their abilities. You don't have that training. You don't need it."
"Maybe I should start meditating."
She smiled. "You could try, but it's not as easy as it might sound. Have you ever sensed him?"
Napoleon frowned mildly, cocking his head a little. "Sense him?"
"Have you ever been aware of your Sentinel, his state of mind, his emotions?"
"Maybe." The anger, maybe. When Illya felt furious about something. Sometimes the worry.
"That is normal for such bonds. You know how he is, sometimes more, sometimes less intensely. It's not telepathy. It's more like empathy."
Napoleon nodded slowly.
Sarah studied him, curious but not asking more. She poured herself another cup and took a cookie from the bowl that had remained untouched until now.
"I'll see if I can find something on Shield bonds," she finally broke the silence. "I have my library connections."
He gave her a smile. "That would be appreciated."
"No promises, though."
"I'll keep my expectations low."
"Good."
UNCLE*
When Sarah left, Napoleon caught sight of his dark gray fox, sitting prim and proper on the couch like it owned it, looking smug and know-it-all. Its bushy tail was wrapped around the furry body, the tip covering its black paws.
"Anything you want?" he asked, thankful there was no one around. He was talking to thin air.
Its tongue lolled as it seemed to laugh at him, the eyes alight with something that looked like amusement. Even the corners of the mouth were curled up.
Well.
Napoleon studied his spirit animal. It looked absolutely real; corporeal. Like he could reach out and touch it. It made no sound, it left no hair or paw prints, and still… to him it was very real.
And it had been this visible and present ever since he had nearly died of that laced bullet.
Near-death experiences bring out the spirit animals, Sarah had told him. But on the spirit plane, not running around and annoying their human counterparts.
"Where's your shadow?" he asked lightly.
It cocked its head in a very familiar manner, then hopped down from the couch and trotted over to the door, only to disappear. Napoleon rolled his eyes.
"Show-off," he muttered.
And didn't that remind him of someone? He grinned to himself.
Napoleon found Illya standing outside the townhouse, looking as inconspicuous as a fist to the face. He was sitting on the steps, watching the road, but he partially turned his head when the fox bounded past him and tumbled into the blackness that was slinking around the corner of the house. It flowed toward the fox with thin tendrils wrapping around it in a light embrace.
"It looks kinda happy," Napoleon remarked. "Both of them, actually."
Illya rose from his seated position, giving his partner that private little smile. It was a reflection of the wolfthing's happiness.
It was only when the door closed after them, giving them privacy, that the Sentinel pushed him against the wall, wrapped himself around Solo like a huge, muscular blanket, and buried his face against Napoleon's hair.
"Happy," the not-Guide confirmed, his own arms around the taller man.
"Very."
"Still a new sensation?" Napoleon slightly cocked his head, eyebrows rising fractionally.
"Sometimes."
"I suspect you heard everything?"
Sentinel hearing and all. Illya might not have sat on the stairs the whole time since that was suspicious, but he had been close enough.
"Yes," he rumbled. "We are a contradiction."
"Yeah, well, I know I always was. Ask Sanders. He hated my guts for not conforming to the image of the good little agent."
"So much for normalcy."
"You were never good agent, Cowboy."
"Well, thank you."
Illya leaned back, those glacially blue eyes meeting Napoleon's. "Compliment."
"From you, it is."
"You are bad ass agent."
Napoleon smirked at him. "That's more like it."
"And still a terrible spy."
He laughed, shaking his head, feeling eddies of Illya's amusement mingle with his.
The Russian buried his face against Napoleon's cheek, eyes closed, his focus almost solely on his partner. For Napoleon it felt like being wrapped in a human blanket, physically and psychically. He closed his eyes, too, just… feeling.
"I wish I understood," he murmured after a while of silent contact.
"No need to. We are what we are," was Illya's almost philosophical answer.
He chuckled, opening his eyes to look at the taller man.
Napoleon almost rolled his eyes again when the fox suddenly raced through the hallway, followed by the wolfthing, which looked a lot more like a wolf than ever. All four legs were visible, even its belly, though it seemed to drag the shadows behind it like a huge cape.
They disappeared in the living room.
"Is it me or are they a lot more visible and active?"
Illya shrugged. The anchor between them was solid and real, Napoleon's barriers down and his side open to his Sentinel.
If those two spirit animals were a representation of their souls, then Illya was feeling pretty free right now. And Napoleon was always playful.
"Plans?" he asked lightly, a teasing smile in his eyes.
Illya kissed him and Napoleon hummed his pleasure. Yes, that sounded like a plan.
"By the way," he murmured, "happy birthday."
Illya shot him a confused look and Napoleon grinned.
"Not used to that either?"
"No," was the honest answer.
"You never celebrated?"
"Not for a long time."
Solo nodded. He understood. He hadn't celebrated his birthday since joining the Army when he had lied about his age. For Illya, birthdays had probably lost their meaning after his father had fallen out of grace.
It changed nothing for them.
"Want to celebrate now?" He waggled his eyebrows.
The Sentinel gave him a half-smile. "One track mind, Cowboy."
"You know me."
"All too well."
Napoleon slipped out from under him, the inviting expression open and real as he sauntered over to the bedroom. He heard Illya's happy laugh, felt the same emotions along the anchor, and somehow it was all he needed.
UNCLE*
He saw neither spiritual hide nor hair, or shadowy tendrils, of their spirit animals.
tbc...