Napoleon pulled away into the light traffic, heading off on Thompson Street., it was beginning to rain and the reds blues green, yellow and hot pinks of the neon signs and lighted marquise' on Broadway all reflected on all the wet surfaces making everything seem like a bizarre LSD trip.
The wipers were dragging across the windshield with an annoying squeak that seemed to be in time with the song that was playing on the radio, as he continued onto Canal Street, then finally crossing over the Manhattan Bridge into Brooklyn; the trip to Bella's taking him all of fifteen minutes.
Then pulling up in front of her apartment; he took a deep breath before he stepped out into the rain; turning up his collar to shield him against it as he trotted to the front door of the building.
He stepped inside the vestibule, pausing for a second before he hit the buzzer as he tried to control the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach.
This was going to be one of the most important conversations of his entire personal life, and he said a little prayer asking God to forgive and understand what was required of him.
"Who is it?" her voice came over the speaker.
"It's Napoleon, Bella." then he waited for what seemed an inordinate amount of time, thinking she was not going to let him inside but then at long last she came downstairs, unlocking the door.
"Thanks he smiled, I wasn't looking forward to going back out into the rain. " He glance back outside, seeing that it had now turned into a deluge.
"Well I guess you better come in then." she said rather coldly.
He followed her up the stairs not saying a word as one of the neighbors cracked open a door. Bella looked at her. "It's O.K. Mrs. Greenbaum, he's my fiancée."
For a moment that statement made his heart leap.
"Oh so this is him...quite a looker you got there Gabby, mazel tov!"
Bella opened her apartment door, letting Napoleon follow her inside.
"Coffee or a bit of Anisette?"
"Nothing please, thank you."
Bella poured herself a drink then sat on the sofa, Napoleon joining her at a respecable distance.
She swallowed the aperitif then finally spoke."O.K. here's your chance, so talk, and it better be good.
He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Bella, I understand why you were so upset and I don't blame you. It was my fault for not really preparing you for the things that could potentially happen because of my line of work. You know I'm a spy, and that I've killed people...but only when I've had little or no choice. But there are other things I have to do...what you saw was one of them."
"As an agent I am required to use any means necessary, any tool to complete my misson, and that includes lies, deception, sex and sometimes dealing death. I am expendable. I have to live with that knowledge every day. My life is very precarious, and my comings and goings are unpredictable. There are times you will be alone for weeks at a time...though the homecomings will be enjoyable, I'm sure."
"When you saw me with that woman, one who is an enemy agent; I was trying to find out if her people were involved in what had been done to Illya. I will be truthful, she and I have been lovers for many years but it was all part of a game, she give me intel, I give her, in reality we should have tried to kill each other but we didn't...we used each other to get what we needed and I don't mean sex. Sex was just a tool, a price to pay for what what information we needed at the time."
" But when you saw us together; I had just I told her that intimate part of our relationship was over. You know I am no stranger to women but there are very few women that I have ever cared for...you are the woman that I than care for more than I have in my entire life...I adore and love you with all my heart. No matter what I may have to do with women; it's you and only you who the one I love and want to spend the rest of my life with."
There will be things I won't tell you, not because I don't want to, it will be because I can't. There will be things that you just can't be privy to...what you saw in that restaurant was one of those things you should not have been involved in and I'm so sorry you had to see it. I just hope you can understand that?"
"I can't say it any plainer that. Bella, no matter what it is I have to do it's you that will always be in my heart and soul and will keep me wanting live and to come home. Maybe it'll make you feel a bit better in that I won't be in the field forever...I'm slated to be your Uncle Alex's replacement you know."
He finally smiled at her a bit. " Honey, I'll understand if you don't want to go on with the wedding, it's not going to be an easy life sometime. If we have to break it off; I just didn't want it to happen the way it did?"
"I must say you plead a good case Napoleon Solo, but 'm sorry... it was the talk that I had with Elliott that made up my mind."
He stood up. "I understand, thanks for giving me a chance to speak you my il mo Bella. Just remember that I still love you, please don't think badly of me? He headed to the door, the feeling in his stomach worse than ever.
"And just where do you think you're going?"
"I assumed that you had made up your mind to still say no?"
"You know better than to assume as an U.N.C.L.E. agent, Napoleon Solo...I had a good talk about you with Uncle Alex too."
"You told Waverly what happened?" Now he really had a pain in his gut.
"Future Continental Chief hmmm, well I needed to know what the future duties of my husband would be you know...it's not always going to be fun and game in the field for you," she smiled, " so if you'd like, you can start this over again...let's say a more normal way and not laying naked in bed together?"
Napoleon stood for a moment in shock.
"Come on mister, now's your chance." she snapped her finger jokingly, ' let's go, now or never...on that knee if you please. "
Napoleon grinned as he pulled the diamond ring from his pocket, then he knelt in front of her holding the marquise diamond ring our to of her.
"Josephina Maria Isabella Gabriella Graiziani, please do me the utmost honor of consenting to be my wife...for better or worse, in sickness and in health, til' death do us part. I promise to love you all the days of my life. Will you please marry me?"
"I will, for better or for worse Napoleon Solo." she smiled as he place the ring on her finger for the second time.
Napoleon pulled her into his arms, kissing her passionately. "I was really afraid I'd lost you Bella."
"Not a chance handsome." She said, taking his and and leading her into her bedroom, to make love.
After they were both tired and relaxed in each others arms Bella asked about Illya as Elliott had hinted of his condition.
"Good news there, he's fine and completely cured...it was someone in his lab who targeted him, but now there's another hurdle for him to overcome."
"What's that?" Bella said as she absentmindedly played with the hair on Napoleon's chest.
"Elliott...he apparently got pretty nasty with her, he didn't want to be a burden to his family and she's now reacting quire negatively. If they don't straighten things out, then I have a bad feeling the marriage is doomed."
"No way!" Bella said, those two people love each other too much."
"Yes, but they're both stubborn and proud people and that may just complicate things for them both."
Illya felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He was home but he couldn't get in. He rang the bell several times, then pounded the front door with his fist, wondering what was going on. Then he looked back outside, sorry that he had told Napoleon to not to wait as it was beginning to pour.
Then he heard a click as the bolt unlocked and the door slowly opened.
Elliott stood in the doorway; her body language and eyes clearly giving him a challenging stance and the if looks could killl stare.
"May I come in, or is that a problem?" He regretted his tone as soon as he said it, knowing it had been the wrong thing to say. He needed not to react to her apparent hostility.
"Suit yerself."
He closed the door behind him then reached to reset the alarm out of habit...then reminded himself it had been changed.
"Elliott?"
"What are ye doing here? I thought ye didn't want to see me anymore?"
"Elliott, I am alright. I have been cured. I can come home to you now."
"Oh really? Ye think ye can dismiss me the way ye did, then expect me to welcome ye back with open arms? Ye are sadly mistaken if ye think I'll come running back to ye at the snap of yer fingers!"
"Anya...Annushka, I am sorry I hurt you but I did it to protect you and Demya. Dennison told me my condition was permanent, I could not bear to live with you that knowing I could never touch you again and our son again."
"That's right your life, your pain! What about mine, and yer son's, we had pain too! But no, only yours mattered!"
Illya's temper began to rise. "That is not true. I did it for you and Demya."
"Bull shite! Ye showed me yer true side Kuryakin!"
"Papa!" Demya called as he came down the stairs, running to his father.
Illya grinned from ear to ear as he knelt with outstretched arms, waiting to received his son's embrace, but then as the boy neared; he stopped dead in his tracks, looking very somber.
Illya realized he probably thought he was still sick. "It its all right Demayachka, papa is well again. It is safe to come to me. Come?"
Demya grinned, looking just like his father as he rushed into Illya's arms.
"Papa I missed you. Mama said you weren't coming home, I was afraid. But I knew you would come home. Please don't leave us again papa?"
Russian held him close, covering his son's face with kisses, as he whispered to him. " Eto budet horosho syeychas. Ne boytes' Demyachka vash papa doma_it will be alright now. Do not be afraid, your papa is home."
"We'll see about that..." she mumbled under her breath.
"I heard that. This is my home too may I remind you?"
"Maybe not for long."
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
"That's fer me ta know, and I just might let ye know soon enough."
"Elliott enough of this bickering. I am home, I am alright, please do not be angry with me any longer?
"Angry? Ye haven't heard the half of it.?"
She knelt down, pulling Demya from Illya into her arms, cradling him for a second. "Damien, go wash up for dinner please?
"Damien? What is with that...his name is Demya. He is Russian, and that is his name."
"He's American and he needs to fit in better. I'm going to call him by his name in English."
"He may have been born here, but he is Russian. I am full-blooded Russian you are half Russian...he is more Russian than anything and his name will stay the same!"
"Come Demya, let me help you wash up." he said taking his son by the hand.
She turned her back on him walking into the kitchen, bringing her attention to stirring a pot of Irish stew that was cooking on top of the stove.
A few minutes later he limped up behind her into the kitchen, trying to put his arms around her waist.
Elliott wriggled free. "No ye don't. Ye gave up that priviledge, when ye pushed me aside."
"Elliott please stop this, you are not being reasonable." he moaned.
She turned to face him, leaning her arms back on the stove. "Were ye being reasonable when ye broke my heart? Ye could have just talked to me if ye were really worried about me. But no ye used that cruel Russian mind of yours to torture me. Did ye stop to think of that?"
Illya sighed then lowered his head in frustration.
"So why are ye limping, what happened?"
"I broke some toes kicking the shit out of the man who did this to me."
For a second, Elliotts heart leapt. "Ye caught him then? It was for real and not in yer head?"
"Thanks to Napoleon's plan we did, and it yes it was for real...Elliott it was Terry Tramell from the lab. He apparetly had become obsessed with me and what he did was a matter of revenge against me for supposedly rebuffing his advances."
She sighed."Go sit at the table, ye might as well eat while ye are here."
"I am not hungry, I seemed to have lost my appetite."
"Sure and I'm the Queen of Sheba. Go sit at the table with Damien."
He flashed her an icy look, thinking this was the game she wanted to play...a battle of wills? He shook his head as he walked into the dining room, picking up Demya, putting him into his high chair.
"You are getting to be a big boy Demyachka, soon you will need a booster seat," he smiled."You hungry? Mama has a nice dinner for you."
"Damien. Mama says my name is Damien now."
Illya ground clenched his teeth. "that may be...you have many names do you not? Demya, Demmy, Demyachka so I suppose Damien can be another name. But your real name is and will always be Demya, Vy meya ponimaete_understand?" He winked at the boy.
"Da papa ya vas ponamayu_ yes papa I understand," he whispered.
"Horohshee, eto budet nash sekret_good, that will be our secret."
Illya took the dishes from the china closet, setting the table as Elliott brough out the serving dish, ladling the stew into their bowls in silence.
If it had not been for Demya's chatter, the dinner would have been eaten in complete silence. After dinner, the table was cleared he followed her back into the kitchen carrying the dirty dishes with him. The leftover stew was put into the fridge.
He tried putting his arms around again, "God, I missed you." he whispered.
She elbowed him this time, "Get off me!" she hissed. This time she let loose. "You feckin' expect you can just waltz back into my life after telling me to go away? Dismissing me and your son, telling me I was nothing to you? We were nothing. How dare you! We were your family and families stick together when there's trouble."
Those words rang so true to him as they were the same ones that Tillie had said to him.
"Do you think I really wanted to do it?" he snarled," I could not be the cause of pain to my family. I am sorry I lied to you, but I had to do it, I am sorry that my actions caused you pain. How many times must I tell you that...it was all a lie to protect you and Demya!"
She huffed at him. "Go away, go give yer son a bath and leave me be."
Illya took Demya upstairs, running a warm bath for the boy; relishing the simple pleasure of being able to scrub him clean and splash around the water playing 'pirates' with Demya and his toy boats.
He drained the tub then towel dried the boy, trying to comb his uncooperative hair, but like his; Demya's had a mind of it's own.
Then he carried him to his room, dressed the boy in his pajamas, putting him to his bed. There was no request for a story tonight. Demya asked his father for a song..."sing the Toys are Sleeping papa?"
Illya smiled, thinking it had been a long time since he had sung to his son, as he used to do when he was an infant. He began it quietly, rubbing Demya's back, lulling him to sleep.
"Sp'yat us'talye ig rushki_sleep tired toys. Knizhkie sp'yat _ books to sleep, ta-da-da-da- dam.
'Odeyala i po'dushiki zhdut re'byat_even fairy tales go to sleep.
Dazhe 'skazka spat' lo' zhitsja_blanket and pillows waiting you all.
Chtoby 'notchju nam prisnit'sya_ tonight we dream.
Ty ej pozhe'laj_ after having play Baju-bai, Baju-bai_husha-by, husha-by."
Demya was asleep before the song was finished as Illya pulled the blanket around his sleeping son; tucking him in as it was a chilly night, then went to the master bedroom to change.
What he found were his clothes and personal belongings stuffed into boxes on the floor and that set him off instantly. He stormed down the stairs, limping back into the kitchen where Elliott was putting away the last of the dishes.
"Why did you throw my things in boxes!"
"I honestly thought ye'd be using them in Buffalo, but ye can leave them here in the meantime until ye find another place to live?"
Illya slammed his fist against the table. "You are not kicking me out of my own home. I have a right to be here!"
"No...you gave up that right with you told me it was over and that ye didn't want me anymore."
Illya's head was swimming at this point. He could not believe that his manipulations would have worked so well on her, truly turning her against him to think that he no longer want her. Now he needed to convince her otherwise. But her temper and anger were running so hot; making that quite an undertaking.
Elliott walked to hall closet, pulling out a blanket and pillow and throwing them at him
"Ye can sleep on the sofa tonight because I am sleeping alone!" Then she turned without a word, walking up the stairs as Illya listened, dumbfounded when he heard the bedroom door close and lock.
He walked into the kitchen, pulling his bottle of Stolchinaya from the freezer, then reached to get a glass from the cabinet; then he stopped himself. "Yebat yego_fuck it!" he mumbled as he took a swig directly from the bottle.
He left the pillow and blanket on the floor where he's dropped it, going instead back to his office. He sat in has his cushioned chair, looking out the back window into the darkened garden as he continued to drink from the bottle. He had done it now, in trying to save Elliott from grief he had driven her to it and filled her with the very agony he wanted to avoid.
She was hurt, angrier than he as ever seen her and unwilling to listen to what he had to say. Illya was at a loss as to what to do to convince her of the truth. He downed more of the Stoli thinking that his marriage to Elliott might indeed be over and it was his own fault...he drove her to this.
He continued swigging from the bottle until he lowered his head to his arms, resting on the desk as the vodka drove him to a dreamless sleep.