The next morning a very slightly hungover Illya Kuryakin took a taxi home. Elliott had already left for heaquarters, Demya was off with Auntie Olga for their morning visit to the park across the street.
He walked into the bathroom, examining his black eye and split lip in the mirror, wondering why he had become so frenzied with Anderson; it was more than just coming to Napoleon's defense. He had allowed himself to lose control and that was not good. There was a rage inside him that he had not realized was there and knew he needed understand where it was coming from. Illya thought perhaps his sessions with Dr. Mansur were not over after all.
He would have to think this through before approaching the psychiatrist again. He was surprised at the comfort level he had with the man, given his propensity for mixing with people of his calling like oil with vinegar. But he was not that comfortable with Mansur that he would discuss anything with him that had not been thought out before hand.
He showered then dressed to go to headquarters, hoping to hide himself in his lab to avoid prying eyes and questions about his dispute with Anderson the day before. Then he had second thoughts on that as the new lab tech Terry Tramell, was making him feel a bit uncomfortable as of late; he couldn't quite put his finger on it but had a feeling the young man actally had a bit of a crush on him. That was not a situation, nor a discussion he felt like being involved in at the moment. It was bad enough some of the women at headquarters still acted as though he were still single and having to remind them he was happily married, but to have to have a discussion with a male co-worker on the same topic would be a new one. He was not ready for that yet.
He greeting Heather at the reception desk reminding himself to be polite, given he was not in the best of moods.
"Wow, Illya so the story about you and Mike Anderson's true huh? Well if you ask me, he probably deserved what you gave him. He's always spouting nasty things about people."
"Please Heather, I do not wish to discuss it if you do not mind?"
"Sorry, look you need to go to Mr. Waverly's office right now. He said he wanted you there immediately." she said as she handed him his badge. For some reason her message did not bode well with him.
Illya walked into the old man's office without a word standing with his arms crossed in front of his chest, waiting quietly for his presence to be acknowledged.
Waverly looked up at him with a scowl, eyeing his black eye and swollen lip; then he shook his head.
"Mr. Kuryakin" Waverly enunciated each syllable as he spoke. "I see by your physical condition that the news of the brawl between you and Mr. Anderson in the gymnasium yesterday is indeed quite true. I must inform you that I will not have any such nonsense occuring between my field operatives. I understand there is always a rivalry amonst you...testosterone driven agents, but I will not stand for this!" Waverly's ire grew as he continued to speak, "It's bad enough that you are nearly killed by our enemies in the field, but I will not have you trying to kill each other! Mr. Anderson is in medical at present with a broken nose and a fractured collar bone."
Waverly slammed his hand on the desk, surprising Kuryakin at the level of his anger. "This will not happen again, do you hear me young man?"
"But sir, it was not because of rivalry, it ..."
"I don't give a tinker's damn what the bloody reason was. I will not have it. You are suspended without pay until further notice and the two of you should count yourselves lucky that I don't have the both of you locked up in security. Now dismissed."
Waverly rose from his chair, turning his back to Kuryakin; now giving his attention to a file laying near the console.
Illya gritted his teeth fighting back his anger as he spun on his heels, leaving the conference room without a word. He went to his wife's office, then not finding her; he stormed out of the building.
"Mrs. Kuryakin said to tell you she went home and is waiting for you," Heather called to him as he disappeared quickly through the dressing room door.
The sight of people scurrying along the sidewalk, the noise of traffic and the scents of food being cooked as he passed various restaurants assaulted Illya as he wandered for blocks, trying to cool his temper without success. He stopped at a bodega, buying himself a pack of cigarettes, not his usual Turkish blend, but he didn't care at the moment as he sat down on a bench, lighting one up and taking a long drag on it. He finished that cigarette then had another finally a third that he threw away in disgust before he stood, hailing a cab.
Illya arrived home, pounding the alarm code on the keypad in the vestibule, then slamming the door behind him; announcing his presence to his wife.
"Elliott?" he called out.
She was sitting in the living room waiting for him, her arms crossed defensively, and obviously angry herself.
"In here." she answered tersely.
He poked his head around the corner seeing her mood. "Please do not start with me?"
"Jay-sus Illya what the feck got into ye?" She stood up, eyeing his face.
"Then I guess you heard? So I suppose everyone at headquarters knows as well?"
"Ugh, yeah ta say the least? Why in God's name would ye have at it with that oaf Anderson. Alright so give me the details then, what happened?"
"Napoleon and I had just finished a workout and Anderson challenged me to a match. Remarks were made. He pushed too far and he insulted Napoleon. It is bad enough he does it to me, but he will not do it to my partner. I took him on and things got out of hand."
"Have ye lost yer mind, ye got into a fight because he insulted Napoleon? He's a big boy, don't ye think he can take care of himself?"
"Not you too? Please, I defend my best friend and you look at me as though I am crazy."
"Well ye need ta just let it go, steer clear of Anderson once he get's out of medical."
"I have no choice steering clear of him as I have been suspended without pay by Waverly!" he barked at her. "He threatened to lock me up...kak yesli by ya byl bogon proklyatoy uglovnogo_as if I were a goddamned criminal!"
"What, yer joking? He did that to ye for a fight ?
"Yes. He was quite angry with me and I have never seen him that way before." Illya flopped down onto the couch, then forgetting himself he rested his head in his hands. "Ow." then he clicked his tongue, as his face still hurt.
Elliott disappeared for a moment, returning with a cold steak from the the refrigerator, shoving it into his hand. Here's yer supper," she growled "so did you really have a heart to heart with Napoleon last night, or were ye just hiding from me?"
"Why would I hide from you...is this really my dinner?"
Elliott just shook her head, "How long are ye suspended for?"
"Indefinitely."
"It's yer dinner now!" she said angrily," Aw, Jay-sus, this is going to be a problem Illya...we have a lot of bills coming due!"
"How are we in our savings?"
"Not enough!" she stormed out of the room.
Illya called after Elliott, hoping to placate her for the moment, until he had time to think. "Perhaps Napoleon can loan us the money?"
The doorbell rang, sending Elliott back up the hall to check the security monitor.
"Speak of the divil," she said as she let Solo in.
"Hi Ellie, is he here?"
"Ya, and he told me that Waverly suspended him indefinitely for fighting...without pay! A little extreme don't ye think? I know what he did was stupid, getting into a fist fight because Anderson said you were foppish but..."
"Ellie calm down."
"Why should I ? We've got bills ta pay and now he's not gettin' paid fer who knows how long? God almighty, after what he went through in Russia and this is what Waverly does to him?"
"Take it easy, I bring good news and some bad news." Napoleon defelected the subject just slightly," By the way, I never asked Illya what Anderson said, did he tell you?"
"To be exact," Illya said walking out to the hall, "he insinuated that you were not a real American and called you dandified."
"Really?" Napoleon's face flushed red. "That slob dressed in cheap off the rack clothes, impuned my patriotism...right. Maybe I'd be happy you did beat the crap out of him tovarisch if it hadn't gotten you suspended."
"Does everyone know about this too?" Illya moaned.
"No not really, as a matter of fact. The punishment did not fit the crime so to speak and I convinced the old man otherwise," he said, looking at the raw steak his partner had pressed to his eye.
"I am no longer suspended?" Illya asked anxiously."tell me that is that the good news?"
"Well not quite, you're suspended for three days, though with pay."
"Thank you Napoleon. As usual you have come to my rescue, in more ways than you know."
Napoleon hesitated, scrunching up his face.
"I hear a but coming," Illya said, raising an eyebrow.
"You're suspended from the field, but you have duty to perform."
"Do not tell me, filing in records?"
Napoleon laughed, "Almost, but I got the old man to change his mind on that too. You're to supervise two agents from section three that are being considered for promotion to section two."
"And what does this mean, supervise?"
"Put them through their paces, make sure they're where they should be in order to warrant the promotion. You know how some of them can be a little rusty when not in the field?"
"Oh joy?"
"What, you want to go back to Waverly's original deal? That could be arranged."
"Nyet nyet! So what is the bad news then?"
"The bad news doesn't actually relate to you. Mike Anderson, once he is released from medical...which should be any moment now," he said looking at his wristwatch, " is being dismissed from U.N.C.L.E. for conduct unbecoming. Apparently quite a few witnesses came forward on your behalf, stating that he has been the continuously targeting you with ethnic slurs and degrading comments. Actually, I'm surprised he lasted this long; I remember the first time I heard that garbage come out of his mouth years ago.* So does this news improve your lousy day?"
"Napoleon, I never meant for the man to be fired, remarks or no."
"Don't worry about it, the incident with you was the last straw. He's been shooting his mouth off about other foreign born agents besides you. Wavely decided that Mr. Anderson was no longer a good representative for the organization."
"Illya shook his head, "He was still a trained agent, albeit one who has a few issues, but do we all not have our issues?"
"I don't believe this, he tries to beat the hell out of you and you're defending him? He had a consistent behaviour of abuse and bigotry. He was xenophobic; that to me is not what an U.N.C.L.E. agent supposed to be?"
Elliott grabbed the steak from Illya's hand. "Come on you two, let's celebrate then. How about having an early dinner with us Napoleon?"
"Sounds like a plan, what's for dinner?" he smiled.
Elliott looked at the steak in her hand, "Chicken. Illya please go retrieve our little tornado from Auntie Olga?"
A few minutes later Illya appeared at the door with his son running between his legs in a great rush to get inside.
"Hi Uncle Napoleon!" he smiled, " want to play a game with me?
"What game would that be nephew of mine?"
"Chess. Papa taught me."
Napoleon looked at his partner. "Really?" he mouthed to him.
Illya smiled as he nodded. "Yes Demyachka, why do you not show Uncle Napoleon how good you are at chess. I warn you though, your Uncle Napoleon is quite clever, so you may not win?"
"Yes I will papa."
"I see you're finally rubbing off on your son... a little cocky isn't he?"
"Confident, not cocky." the Russian admonished, "you will see."
Demya set up the chess board in the coffee table in the living room as Illya fetched a scotch for Napoleon, a vodka for himself and a small glass of orange juice for his son.
The boy opened with a classic Giuoco Piano, with white's early attack at the black King's weakest point, preparing the way for a P-Q4 assault on the center. Solo was amazed at the child's ability and was surprised that he lost to him rather quickly. Not to be outdone by a three year old; he offered best two out of three. Napoleon lost again.
"I am clearly impressed Demmy; you're a better chess player than your father."
"Strategy was never my strong point,"Illya smiled, "but apparently it is for my son," he said proudly.
"So Demya, what do you want to do when you grow up?" Napoleon laughed, " if you want to become a chess master, I'll be your manager?"
His joke was somehow lost on the boy, who answered typical Kuryakin style. "Why would I want to have a manager?"
Illya grinned grinned at his partner. "Yes, my son."
"Alright ye three supper is ready," Elliott called. " Demmy, seomra folctha, téigh go nigh le do thoil_bathroom, go wash please?" she told him in Irish.
Elliott walked out to the livingroom, wiping her hands with a dish towel, looking over the two partners; then ordered them to wash up as well.
"Don't set a bad example for the buachaill_boy," she called Demya in Irish.
"Yes ma'am." Napoleon saluted as he picked up Demya, carrying him to the downstairs washroom.