Elliott sat in her office at headquarters going through some of her files, and finishing up her report on the botched mission to Brazil. Her mind was preoccupied tough, not feeling well the past few days. She'd had a lower back ache that seemed to be getting worse and this morning she had twinges of abdominal cramps. She decided it would be wise to head up to medical later on just to be on the safe side.
The door to her office opened quietly and her partner Ari Ziv walked through the door smiling at her.
"So how are you today my bubbala_darling?"
"Not feeling well if ye want the truth of it...I'm under a bit of stress. I've got a lot on my mind." she answered barely looking up from her paperwork.
"Ah bi gezunt," he spoke Yiddish to her, "Don't worry so much about a problem, what ever it is...at least you still have got your health. So your worries should mean bubkes_ nothing."
"Easier said than done...do I have my health right now? I don't feel like it at the moment?" she sighed.
"Well how about some lunch with me in the commissary to take your mind off things for bit, we can visit with Tillie...I hear she has a bun in the oven? he smiled.
Elliott suddenly went pale, " no Ari...gay aveck_get out of here and go enjoy Tillie's company please!"
"Very nice use of the Yiddish...but I insist, you need to take a break...you look very pale."
Elliott suddenly stood up, grabbing her abdomen as she felt a severe cramp...almost like a contraction. She looked down and saw bright red blood all over her skirt.
"Oh God Ari...get me to medical now!" she blurted out just before she fainted.
Elliott woke up in bed in the medical wing, with Dr. Schneider and Nurse Walsh hovering over her.
"Elliott...can you hear me?" asked Schneider.
"Mmm huh." she answered groggily,"what happened?"
"Elliott," said Max quietly, " I'm sorry but you've have had a miscarriage.
"Mmm?"
"Elliott?" he called her name again.
"Did you just say...I lost the baby?" she whispered in a daze.
"Yes, we did an ultrasound...sorry honey, I'm afraid so...look we're going to have to schedule a D&C to treat you alright? You're hemmorraging and we have to stop the the bleeding now. And we have to watch you for infection as well. Now you'll be in here in medical for a few days...so no arguments please?
"Sure Max," she said caving in easily. She felt completely wiped out..."why...what caused it?"
"It's hard to tell at this stage...it may have been to some sort of genetic defect at the time of implantation...or there could be a number of other factors. Ten to twenty-five percent of pregnancies result in we probably won't ever know for sure. Spontaneous abortion is just something that happens..."
Max handed Elliott a tissue as her eyes began to fill with tears. She was saddened by the loss her baby, but at the same time the dread that had been eating away at her as to who had fathered it was now gone. And now guilt filled her for feeling that relief.
Max spoke as if reading her mind...
"Look Elliott you are going to be running the whole gamut as far as your emotions are concerned... your body and hormone levels have to adjust along with your feelings.
If you are anyway depressed about this loss, I want you to speak with Dr. Dennison...to you understand me?"
"You have no idea Max," Elliott nodded, quietly wiping the tears from her eyes, then blew her nose.
Nickó took hold of Aphrodite's hand as she insisted they continue to explore the rest of the temple. She had not been down two of the three passages that were in the center of the structure that lay hidden for so long, carved meticulously into the cliff beneath the Temple of Poseidon.
It was in this corridor that her entire belief about the temple being untouched was proved wrong when they found a dust covered pistol lying among the debris...it had the initial K on the grip. Just like the one she had found on Nickó when she had rescued him at the Acropolis.
Nickó picked the weapon up cradling it tentatively in his hands, staring at it...just like the temple this too was familiar to him. He tucked it instinctively into the back of his belt without even thinking about it.
"Nickó," she admitted," I found such a pistol tucked into your belt when I took you from the Acropolis."
"Why did you not tell me?" he asked her, seemingly annoyed as they kept on walking.
"I am sorry Nickó, I did not know what to do with it...I put it away in a trunk for safe keeping. Guns frighten me. It is with your throwing knife and an unusual silver pen."
They entering into a large chamber with an altar stone in the middle of the room; a long scimitar suspended above it and there were the remnants of ropes scattered about it on the floor.
"A pen...a pen?" Nickó repeated. He knew this pen she spoke of was important. He stopped, holding his head as if he were in pain, but couldn't remember the significance of it. Then he did remember something very important about the chamber...
"Be careful where you walk in here Aphrodite, there is a hole...a bottomless pit somewhere nearby."
Suddenly a voice spoke from behind them," Three soldiers and an ESA agent stood with their weapons trained on Nickó and Aphrodite. The ESA agent walked closer, lighting the torches along the wall, illuminating the entire chamber in the dancing light of the flames.
"Nin metukineíte eseís oi dyo_ do not move you two! Maybe I should throw you into that pit myself...a fitting punishment for a murderous traitor and his accomplice! Now put your hands over your heads! the agent ordered.
"I don't think that will be necessary," spoke another voice from behind the agent. "I suggest that you drop your weapons and you put your hands on your heads instead...please?" said Napoleon calmly.
The ESA agent spun round getting off a shot as he dove for cover. The soldiers ducked behind a pillar, firing at Nickó and Aphrodite.
Nickó shoved her back out of the way as he grabbed the pistol from the back of his belt diving down to the floor, taking out one of the soldiers with a single shot.
Aphrodite screamed and Illya turning his head quickly in her direction, saw that she had fallen into the opening of the pit and was barely holding onto the edge.
"Aphrodite!" he called out.
Illya crawled to her, staying low to the floor; his arm grabbing her's at an odd angle just as her hands slipped from the edge. The sudden drop of her weight pulled at his shoulder until he felt it pop as it dislocated, causing him to let out a yelp of pain.
"Parakaloúne na min afísei na páei apó ména Nickó_ please don't let go of me Nickó!" Aphrodite begged, sobbing in fear.
Illya lost all feeling in his arm, moaning as he struggled to twist around as he lay on the floor, trying to take hold of her with his other hand...but then she was gone. He could not feel her hand as it slipped from his grip.
Aphrodite fell to her death into the pit. Kuryakin laid his head to the floor as his partner, having dispatched the ESA agent and remaining soldier came to his side.
"Are you alright Illya? Do you know who I am?"
The Russian didn't answer him for a moment.
"ILLYA!"
"I know who you are Napoleon," he answered as all his memories had come back flooding back to him and he let out a sob looking down into the pit. Napoleon stood there with his hand laid gently on is partner's head as he grieved, not saying a word.
They returned to the entrance of the temple, walking outside Illya turned facing it.
"I thought we'd seen the last of Mr. Alexander's shrine?"Napoleon said to his partner.
"It will be this time," said Illya, as he removed one of his boot heels.
He took the explosive compound hidden there, placing it around then entrance then stepping back, he drew his weapon and fired...setting off an explosion collapsing the entrance collapsing in a pile of dust and debris, sealing it closed.
Illya cradling his injured arm in his gun hand as he whispered, "No one will disturb your tomb goddess,"he whispered. then walked away with his head lowered.
"Illya, your arm is bleeding...were you shot?" Napoleon noticed as he walked beside his partner.
"Nearly three days ago...she took care of it for me," he spoke with sadness in his voice." I must have opened some stitches. It will be alright...I am alright Napoleon." he reassured.
Napoleon and Illya walked around the cliff back down to the encampment, finding Spyos and Hector the only ones still there, holding rifles on the three soldiers as Napoleon had instructed them to do.
"Nickó, thank God you are alive...where is Aphrodite?" Spyros asked,"everyone else ran when your friend here saved us from the soldiers."
"Afrodíti eína nekrós...thamménos sto ná káto apó to vrácho_ Aphrodite is dead...buried in the temple beneath the cliff. See that she is never disturbed." he said coldly.
"Spyos and Hector were shaken by the news and both took turns embracing Nickó." You have our promise...no one will ever know of the temples existence." they both promised him.
"What should we do with these three?"asked Spyros.
"It's up to you,"Napoleon said, " just keep in mind that you might be wanted men soon...I suggest you disappear as quickly and as far away from here as possible. I would make this place look like a camp had never been here if I were you."
"Kill them," Illya said gritting his teeth. There was definite anger in his voice.
"What?" Napoleon asked, surprised at Illya's statement.
"They have to die...other wise Spyros and Hector will be dead men. It is my fault they are mixed up in this so I should be the one to do it." he said without hesitation.
"Nickó...no" Hector said.
"My name is not Nickó, it is Illya, Illya Kuryakin...and I am Russian, not Greek."
The two Greeks seemed unaffected by this revelation.
"Well then Illya Kuryakin...this is not your fight then is it? This is for us Greeks to will take care of enh?" Spyros answered," Now you need to leave here as well. Take the Nereid Thetis...it will be safer for you to travel by sea than land. Farewell."
Spyros and Hector disappeared into the landscape escorting the soldiers in front of them at gunpoint.
Napoleon pulled his communicator from his shirt pocket. "Open channel D overseas relay-Waverly."
"Yes Mr. Solo...please tell me you have something good to report?
"Yes sir. I have extremely good news. Mr. Kuryakin is with me and his memory has returned. We will be sailing up the coast to Thessaloniki and will contact you when we reach there. He will need medical treatment for I suspect a dislocated shoulder and some stitches for a gunshot wound... I don't want to risk bringing him in anywhere along the mainland."
"If he can manage with the discomfort, then take him to our field office in Istanbul...the sooner you get him out of Greece the better."Waverly said.
"Yes sir...that is the general plan."
"Well done Mr. Solo, well done." Waverly said.
"No sir, not until I get him safely out of here."
Suddenly up from the behind them in the hills, they heard the sound of three rifle repeats that echoed one after another. echoing into a roll of thunder in the distance. A light rain began to fall.
Napoleon and Illya said nothing as they headed down to the shoreline, taking the dingy to Aphrodite's boat, then made ready to sail up along the coast up to Thessaloniki.
Napoleon helped Illya settle down below as he would be of no use on deck with a dislocated shoulder.
Illya hesitated as he lay down in the bunk in which he had made love to Aphrodite not so long ago. He started to tremble a little thinking about it...he was responsible for the woman's death and he had betrayed Elliott. His guilt was gnawing at him, that on top of the pain and now feeling a little seasick made it worse.
Napoleon sensed his partner's apprehension as he laid down on the bunk, noticing that Illya become visibly upset.
"You O.K. buddy?"
"Fine...I am always fine am I not?"he said coldly.
"No you're not fine...don't lie to me. Something is bothering you."
"Aphrodite..."
"Illya the loss of an innocent on a mission is never a good thing, but you can't beat yourself up because of it? It'll be alright."
"Napoleon, it is not just that...I pushed her out of the way...right into the opening of the pit. I killed her...I am responsible. Aphrodite, she...she and I we had been intimate..."
Napoleon arched his eyebrows."Oh... got ya'. I understand.
He paused for a moment before posing his question to his distraught partner."I have to ask you...was it you or was it Nickólaos Demetriou that was with her? Remember, you were under the effects of capsule B?"
"Nickó, I guess," the Russian sighed. "I was me, but not me, I suppose. The affects of capsule B can be quite disturbing...I was aware of my actions...they felt foreign to me but at the same time I had no real inhibitions at doing what I did. I had very faint echoes of memories but nothing I could grasp onto...nothing to make me stop from being with Aphrodite."
"Are you going to tell Elliott?"
"I do not know. Napoleon... I asked Elliott to marry me before I left for this assignment and she turned me down and there is a chance she is pregnant again. I want to be honest with her but I am afraid then she may not want to be with me anymore?"
"Why would she do that if she's going to have your child."
"Napoleon, the baby may not be mine... Elliott was raped by the General."
Napoleon blanched at that statement, knowing that it wasn't true. He did the math, suddenly realizing that he could be the father if she was pregnant.
"She told you she was raped? Oh God Illya...I'm sorry!" he blurted out.
"Look," Napoleon said controlling himself, choosing his words carefully as he swallowed his own guilt.
"We all make mistakes...we're only human. We have to learn to forgive ourselves and try to do better next time. We need to forgive each other. You've got to trust in her...she's a good woman. I don't think she would want to leave you...Illya she really loves you. God knows...I've made some terrible mistakes in my life that I need a little forgiveness for...you understand what I'm trying to say?"
Illya suddenly had a feeling that his partner was asking for his pardon but for what he did not know. "Well I forgive you your sins..." he smiled, thinking he would get a smart answer from his partner but was surprised at Napoleon's response.
"That means more to me than you'll ever know my friend."
He was not quite sure what Napoleon meant by that but decided not to pursue it. "Thank you for your insights Napoleon." he exhaled deeply. "I will keep your advise in mind. I think I do feel a little better...now if you could get rid of my seasickness...?"
"Sorry tovarisch,"Napoleon laughed, "I'm good, but I'm not that good!" You just lay down and take it easy for now?"
"Napoleon...I have neglected to thank you for coming to rescue me, again...thank you moy brat."
"Hey that's what I'm here for!" he smiled returning to the deck of the Nereid Thetis resolving not to tell his partner of Waverly's order to terminate as he prepared to set sail...the storm was actually offering a light tail wind and would help the small boat make good time. Napoleon checked, finding the boat fully stocked, then hauled out the jib bag, ran the sheets, the removed the cover from the sail. He uncleated the sheet to pull the sail up, tightened the ropes...
He checked the wind direction again as well as the compass then finally hoisted the anchor, dropped the sheets unfurling the sail and the boat was off.
If this weren't a means of escape...he mused that he could enjoy such a trip. Napoleon loved sailing; the freedom, the peace...in spite of the fact that he was not a good swimmer. Water made him nervous if he was in it, not when he was on it. He let his mind drift back for a moment to his childhood, sailing with his family off the coast of the Hamptons...the feel of the wind in his face and the smell of the sea making him smile.
His experience at the helm of this type of boat made it easy for Solo to handle by himself... Illya eventually came on deck though, sitting in a bit of a daze beside his partner in the soft rain, unable to help because of his arm, dealing with his seasickness in silence.
"Illya...go below," he said, "there's no reason for the two of us to get soaked.
The Russian only shook his head no, staying where he sat in spite of his partner's protests, he could not assist sailing the boat but at least he could keep Napoleon company.
Solo dropped anchor as the sun set, then set sail again at sunrise to cover as much ground as possible in the morning hours knowing that he would make little or no headway as the winds were beginning to make things a little dicey as the day progressed. It was a rough passage but he pushed through it, watching poor Illya get sick over the side...but it couldn't be helped.
Napoleon estimated the winds at about 30 knots, making the waves quite huge. He tried staying to the leeward side and he neared the high-cliffed islands that helped to produce more calm from the Maltemi winds that were kicking in early.
They made their way northward, hugging the coast line, until the made it to the Northern Sporades, an archipelago off the east coast of Greece. Only four of the twenty four islands were inhabited year round and Solo ran the Nereid Thetis aground on the the island of Alonnisos where he knew they could catch a ferry up to Thessaloniki, travelling the last leg of their journey more quickly as Illya was did not seem to be doing well at this point, though he wouldn't admit it. The closer they got to their destination; the more Napoleon felt like he could breath a little easier.
He helped his partner down from the from the deck of the boat to the strand, then walked together in silence along the empty beach, listening to the steady crunch of their feet on the pebbles that made up the shoreline of Alonnisos.
The monk seals bobbed their heads up from the water watching the two men as they headed for the the harbor at Patitiri...there Napoleon stopped at a taverna, purchasing a bottle of ouzo, handing it to his partner and Illya took a long swig from it...making a face.
"I think I do not like this so much anymore," he mumbled as he passed the bottle back to Napoleon. The trip to Thessaloniki took a little over two hours all the while Napoleon kept feeding the ouzo to the Russian to help with the pain.
Though Napoleon first thought Illya was brooding from the drink, he finally realized something else was wrong now with his partner. He looked worse and it was not from being seasick. Napoleon reached over to Illya placing his hand his forehead, discovering he was very feverish. That on top of the Russian's pain and his seasickness spelled trouble.
There was nothing he could do though until the ferry landed...perhaps he could get to a chemist once they arrived in Thessaloniki. They arrived at last at the harbour, not a tourist destination but rather a commercial one... the shoreline dotted with large cranes for the removal of cargo containers from freighters. The ferries were more for the convenience of those who lived in the Archipelago...but luckily enough tourists came this way to warrant a car rental service in the harbor. This at least solved an immediate transportation problem for them.
Napoleon helped Illya down from the ferry, being very unsteady on his feet and having trouble standing on his own. He supported him by the waist...holding the ouzo bottle in his hand, pretending to onlookers that Illya was simply drunk as they headed directly to the rental agency directly across from the dock.
The Russian let out a groan as Napoleon set him down in a wooden chair outside the office door then he lifted his partner's sleeve carefully checking the wound, discovering it had become infected.
He noticed something strange on Illya's forearm... a tattoo of some sort. It looked like an old one...a series of primitive letters and numbers in blurred dark ink and wondered how he had never seen it before? It reminded him of the tattoos given to concentration camp prisoners during World War II.
"Nooo, "Napoleon dismissed, "couldn't be?" he thought as he pulled his communicator to contact New York.
"We are at the harbour at Thessaloniki sir," he said to Waverly,"
Napoleon let out a loud sigh." I'm afraid that Mr. Kuryakin is in need further of medical care than I first estimated...his wound's become infected and he's running a high fever.
"Dear dear me, not good. Under no circumstances are you to take him to any medical facility. I am afraid the climate in the country has escalated even further, as an ESA agent and several of his men have gone missing, some others were found executed at Cape Sounion...you and Mr. Kuryakin didn't happen to have something to do with that did you?
"Well...sort of," Napoleon answered him sheepishly.
"I thought as much... never the less, you are to continue with the plan of getting to Istanbul; it shouldn't take more than five hours or so to get there by car. The border crossing between Greece and Turkey is in an extremely remote area...so the odds of Mr. Kuryakin being recognized there are slim."
"I again must remind you that should there be a problem getting Mr. Kuryakin across the border...if there is a risk of capture; the termination order is still in affect. Good luck...Mr. Solo. Waverly out."
"Waverly cut him off before he could respond."Not a chance in hell that's going to happen." Napoleon swore to himself.
Napoleon helped Illya from the chair into the passenger seat of the rented Chrysler Hellas, handing him some aspirin he had gotten from the car rental agent, as a chemist was too far into the city, where Illya might me recognized. Solo then jumped behind the wheel and took off heading up to the Egnatia Odos highway, the only direct route to the border between Greece and Turkey.
He glanced every once in a while at Illya watching as he leaned with his head against the window of the passenger door, his eyes blinking slowly and were glazed over from the fever.
"How you feeling?"
"Fine...just fine," Illya answered in a raspy voice.
Five and a half hours later they arrived the remote district of Katanies, not far from the border gate of Karaagac.
Napoleon knew that in order to get his partner through with out detection he would need a distraction...calling the guards attention from searching the vehicle.
"Illya? Wake up...I need you to hang in there, we're almost home free."
Illya said what he thought was "I am fine" to Napoleon but the words came out completely unintelligible.
"Tovarisch...you're going to have to hide in the trunk until we get past the Greek and the Turkish sides of the gate...you understand me?
"Mmm."
Napoleon helped Illya from the car, hoisting the limp Russian up into his arms and placing him carefully in the trunk. Then taking his own supply of C-4 from the heel of his shoe; placing it quickly on a large tree by the road side, affixing his wristwatch to it as a timer and setting it for ten minutes.
The explosion would call away the attention of the border guards and he only hoped there wasn't line of cars waiting in front of him to cross into Turkey and blocking the way.
He pulled up to the first gate and luckily there was only a single truck ahead of them as Napoleon glanced at his watch...five minutes had already passed. Then finally the truck was permitted to pass. There was nothing fancy...no gate, just a guard house. The same on the Turkish side as well. The guard stepped up to the car as Napoleon rolled down the window.
"Ta éngrafa parakoloú me_papers please?"
Napoleon handed his American passport and diplomatic credentials to him immediately.
"Oh American...I try learn English O.K. I speak you English, practice little bit yes?"
"Sure...fine? Napoleon smiled at him nervously.
"Purpose?"
"Purpose? Oh purpose of my visit? I am travelling to Ankara for a meeting at the U.S. Embassy."
The soldier passed the documents back to him.
"You understand I must search car now? Papers no matter." the soldier waved his hand.
Suddenly there was a loud explosion startling the guard. He waved Napoleon on through the gate hurriedly as other soldiers appeared from the guard house, running down the road with their rifles ready, heading towards the explosion.
Napoleon pulled through the gate, sighing...now for the next hurdle. He hope there would be no reason to search on the Turkish side. He slowed the vehicle, stopping at the next gate house and handing his papers automatically out the window towards the guard.
The soldier the documents, eyeing Napoleon suspiciously, then walked over to a dark haired man waiting by the door to the gate house. The two walked slowly back towards the car and Napoleon put his hand to his special that he had tucked in his his belt for easy access.
"Mr. Solo?" asked the dark haired man.
"Excuse me?" Napoleon feigned ignorance.
"I am Zafer Baduklu, the assistant to the American Ambassador to Turkey. Mr. Waverly contacted us at the embassy indicating you might be in need of some assistance here at the border. I understand you have a very sick partner on you hands." the olive-skinned man spoke with a very Harvard accent.
Napoleon breathed a sigh of relief. "Pleasure to meet you Mr. Baduklu, please call me Napoleon," he offered his hand to the man. "Right now we need to get my partner out of the trunk." Napoleon said as he walked to the rear of the car, opening the trunk quickly, lifting the now unconscious Russian from it.
"Follow me Napoleon...we have a helicopter waiting to take you to Istanbul...Mr. Waverly said his man was running a fever from an infection...?"
"Correct."
"Then a helicopter is the most expeditious means of transport to get your man his medical treatment," Zafer Baduklu smiled, "follow me please?"
Illya woke in medical after having received a substantial dosage of intravenous antibiotics along with plenty of IV fluids. They cleaned and treated his gun-shot wound and lastly took x-rays, confirming Illya had indeed dislocated his shoulder.
Napoleon watched as the UNCLE physician administered a a mild sedative to the Russian as he lay prone on the bed. Once the sedative had taken effect; doctor manipulated and flexed Illya's elbow ninety degrees, gradually rotating the shoulder outward...Kuryakin experienced some muscle spasm for about ten minutes until the shoulder blade finally relocated.
Napoleon cringed as he listened as Illya's shoulder finally popped back into place as the doctor moved it.
Several days later when the infection was under control and Illya was deemed fit to travel with his arm in a sling and his shoulder immobilized. He boarded the commercial flight at Atatürk airport with Napoleon, finally winging their way home for the return trip to New York City.
Illya's parting instructions from medical in Istanbul were to take his pain medication and to see the orthopedist in New York in a week for a re-examination. The prescription pills, he promptly tossed into the trash. He knew the orthopedist would keep him out of the field for a few weeks as he would need gradual physical therapy to increase his range of motion.
Their flight landed at Kennedy on time, though it had been a long trip; they took a taxi directly to headquarters to debrief...
Illya had his report already composed in his head, this time to dictate to Janet the section two secretary, as he would not be able to type for some time. He hoped the debrief with Waverly would be a short one as he was anxious to see Elliott and his son...wondering at the back of his mind if there was indeed another baby on the way. He felt determined after Napoleon's pep-talk to overcome his fear of losing Elliott...surely they could talk things over at this point. Their last conversation on Bow Bridge in Central Park had been interrupted and he planned to try and take up where they at least had left off.
The de-brief in the conference room was kept mercifully short...
"Mr. Kuryakin...I believe you need to take a trip up to medical..." Waverly said to him.
"Sir, I am not due to see an orthopedist for another week..?"
"No young man...Miss Mc Gowan is confined to medical at the moment...though I understand she is alright."
Illya looked visibly upset. "What happened to her?"
"That Mr. Kuryakin is something best discussed with she and Dr. Schneider...now go, off with you then!" he said reaching to his humidor to fill his pipe.
"I'll catch up with you later," Napoleon said seeing the look on his partner's face as they left the office together. "Waverly said she's alright...don't look so worried." Napoleon said as he headed off in the opposite direction.
Illya took the elevator up to medical still concerned about what was going on...he did not like surprises. Max Schneider was waiting there for him as the elevator doors opened.
"Max...I have no patience right now. What is going on and where is she?"
Schneider eyed the Russian with his shoulder and arm immobilized in the sling."Relax...Elliott's not hurt. You need to come to my office for a few minutes then you can see her. O.K?"
Illya sat down in front of Schneider's desk. "Alright talk Max." he said impatiently.
"Illya...I know that you were aware of the possibility that Elliott was pregnant..."
"Was?" Illya interrupted, "as in she is no longer pregnant?"
"That is correct."
Illya became quiet for a moment then spoke sharply..."I cannot believe that she had it aborted? How could she do that without talking it over with me? I have..."
"Illya stop...she didn't. Elliott had a miscarriage. She lost the baby."
Illya covered his mouth with his hand, taken off guard by the news. "She is alright?"
"Physically she's fine, emotionally a little distraught...but I think seeing you will help alleviate a good deal of that. So enough said...she's in room seven."
Illya walked quickly from the office to Elliott's room...taking a deep breath before he stepped through the door.
He stopped himself there in the doorway, looking at her as she lay in her bed reading a book... as if nothing were wrong at all. He felt a little relieved as he had not known what to expect, as miscarriage was a subject he knew very little about.
Elliott glanced up from her reading, calling out his name in delight when she spotted him.
lluysha! Oh God I'm so happy ye are home!"
"He said nothing as he walked to her bedside, sitting down on the edge of the bed simply wrapping his arms around her. Elliot buried her head in his chest as she began to cry.
"Annushka moya yedinstennay lyubov'_Annushka my only love. I am so sorry...I was not here with you...you know that"He whispered to her,"your are my only love."
"No Illuysha, tis' I who should be sorry...I hurt ye so badly that day in the park. Can ye forgive me?"
Illya stroked Elliott's hair softly as he held her close to him, then gently kissed her on the head.
"A very wise man told me that we all need to forgive each other's mistakes... as well as to forgive a ourselves. We have to trust in each other even though we may falter and make our mistakes...can we do that, you and I... can we forgive ourselves and each other?"
Elliott reached under her pillow pulling something out and placing it in his hand. It was the black velvet ring box with the sapphire ring he had given her.
"Can we try this again?" she whispered.
Illya smiled taking it from her, then removing the ring from the box..."Elliott...my Annushka," he said as his eyes filled with tears," will you honor me by being my wife...zhenit'sya na mne pozhaluista_marry me please?"
"Da ya, moya lyubov'_yes I will, my love. I will marry you Illya."
He put the sapphire on the ring finger of her right hand, then cupped her face in his hands kissing her leaned in whispering into her ear..."The next time there is a baby...we will have made it on purpose. I promise you that."
He wrapped his arms around her reassuringly, she burying her head to his chest again...convinced now the baby had to have been his. That was what she would believe and nothing else.
She and Napoleon never spoke again of the incident between them and eventually it became a distant memory, feeling as though it had never even really happened at all. But it was still a secret they would bear in silence together for the rest of their lives. She knew in her heart that Illya's words about forgiveness had come from Solo...seeming like a message to her from him. And Elliott forgave him, as well as herself for their moment of weakness.
Four weeks later Illya Kuryakin and Elliott Mc Gowan stood in New York's City Hall in the office of the City Clerk. Napoleon Solo and April Dancer flanked them on either side to be their witnesses. Ari Ziv, Mark Slate, Tillie and John Ieuan Rhys and Alexander and Estelle Waverly, were there, joined by a security team.
Waverly had given his approval to the nuptials much to the surprise of of both agents, who had half expected to tender their resignations to U.N.C.L.E. but found again it would be unnecessary. Waverly even agreed to give the bride away.
He seemed genuinely pleased for the young couple, thinking back on his own life and having managed to be a SAS agent with a wife and children himself. This marriage however would be ground-breaking for the organization, adding a new twist in his mind to his "project"... evolving now to married field agents with a family.
Illya was dressed in a grey fitted Italian suit and grey silk tie courtesy of Napoleon's tailor, with a single white rose bud pinned to his lapel.
Elliott wore a simple short white A-line sleeveless dress and a small white veil covering her hair that was piled up in curls on the top of her head...the same way that she had worn it when Illya had first seen her that New Year's night in Paris so long ago. The only jewelry she wore were a small pair of diamond studs and the diamond pendant Illya had given her. In her hands was a bouquet of white roses and lilies.
The clerk began the simple ceremony...as Illya and Elliott looked only at each other intently; the rest of the world had ceased to exist to them...being lost at the moment in each others' blue-eyed gaze.
"The step that you are about to take is the possibly the most important one which a human being can make. It is the union of two people founded on mutual respect and affection."
"Your lives will change, your responsibilities will increase but your joy will be multiplied if you are truly sincere with your pledge to each other..."
Illya Nickovich, will you have this woman to be your wedded wife, to love her, comfort her, forsaking all others for long as you both shall live?"
"I will," he answered quietly.
"Elliott Tatayana, will you have this man to be your wedded husband, to love him, comfort him, honor him, forsaking all others for as long as you both shall live?
"I will," she smiled.
"Join hands and repeat after me..."
Illya and Elliott put their hands together, never taking their eyes from each other.
"I Illya take you Elliott, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for richer for poorer, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health from this day forward.
"I Elliott take you Illya..."
At this point, there wasn't a dry eye in the room as she repeated the marriage vows to her Russian.
"Do you have a ring for the bride? the clerk asked and Napoleon handed a narrow gold band to his partner, taking it, Illya held it to the ring finger of Elliott's right hand.
"Please place the ring on the bride's finger..."
"With this ring I thee wed," Illya said to Elliott as he slipped the ring onto her finger. "I give you this ring as a sign of my vow with all that I am and all that I have, I honor you."
"Is there a ring for the groom? the clerk repeated the question and April handed an identical gold band to Elliott, as she wiped the tears from her eyes.
"With this ring I thee wed," Elliott said putting the band on the ring finger of Illya's right hand." receive this ring as a token of my love, my faith and my pledge to love you now and forever."
"Let these rings be given and received as a token of your affection, sincerity and fidelity to one another."
"In as much as Illya and Elliott have consented together in wedlock and have witnessed the same before this company and pledged their vows to each other; by the authority vested in me by the State of New York, in the city of New York. I now pronounce you husband and wife."
"You may now kiss," the clerk smiled.
Illya lifted Elliott's veil, then took hold of her by the waist bending her backward in a long passionate kiss to the applause and laughter of their witnesses. During the kiss the Russians believe the souls of the two loving people are joined together...
"Folks I give you Mr. and Mrs. Illya Kuryakin!"
The couple stopped for a moment, signing the official registry, amid the congratulatory hand-shakes, back-slaps, hug and kisses.
The wedding party then travelled to 57th Street to the Russian Tea Room for a small private reception.
Mrs. Orloff was there with Demya, who had been dressed in a navy blue jacket, white shirt, tie and short pants...looking very much like his father.
And as everyone who had gone to City Hall arrived, they joined Lisa Rogers, Wanda, George Dennell and a few other members of various sections who had been invited, as well as Illya's fellow lab personnel. They gathered together, waiting for the couple to arrive in the opulently decorated Tea Room with it's dark hunter-green walls trimmed in gold.
The deep green and gold wall partitions covered with large gilt carvings of peacocks done in the imperial style gave the room a very Russian feel. The booths were red leather and the red carpet had intricate designs of gold and yellow woven into it.
Some of Elliott's Irish musician friends were seated at the far end of the room along with traditional Russian musicians. Fiddles, flutes, concertinas, accordions, balalaikas and guitars all ready to play for the evenings' celebration.
Illya Kuryakin had been a regular customer years, so the owners gladly closed down the entire restaurant just for the private reception. They had witnessed the metamorphosis of this solitary and brooding Russian as he slowly changed to a genuinely happy man and were glad to host the celebration for one of their own.
Illya had changed from his suit to a traditional Russian collarless shirt...a rubaha, the white garment embroidered in red around the neck, front cut, wrists and bottom with Russian talismanic designs; the red threads in a criss-cross pattern symbolizing the unity and harmony of nature, soul, body and family...the white threads in the pattern symbolizing the mothers of the world...the vazhenki, represented by the female elk. He wore the shirt outside his black trousers, with a colorful belt knotted around his waist, a Russian symbol for hopes of fertility in the marriage.
Elliott had changed into a deep green kerchief style peasant skirt and a white peasant blouse with strands of colorful beads draped round her throat and a spray of baby's breath atop her red hair that was now loose, flowing to her waist.
Glasses of vodka had been passed around to all...it had not been a traditional wedding for the couple but Mrs. Orloff and the staff would at least observe some Russian customs for them.
The couple entered the room to a rousing round of applause...then Napoleon raised his glass as Mrs. Orloff had said he must be the one to offer the first toast.
He cleared his throat raising his glass as he stood in front of Illya and Elliott. "I'm a little in-experienced at this,"he smiled, "so here goes...first an Irish blessing."
"May God be with you and bless you. May you see your children's children. May you be poor in misfortunes and rich in blessings. And may you know nothing but happiness from this day forward. ZA molodykh_for the newlyweds, he gave the traditional first toast in Russian, raising his glass.
Mrs. Orloff initiated the next custom, shouting "Gor'ko! Gor'ko!" joined in chorus by the rest of the guests. The word in Russian meant "bitter" referring to the taste of the vodka and at this point the couple must kiss for a long time to take out the "gorech'_bitterness." Each time a toast was made the word was shouted again and if the couple did not kiss long enough, the guests would still insist the vodka was bitter and request another kiss. There was a lot of kissing for Illya and Elliott that night.
Another custom was the "stealing" of the bride...some of the male guests would make the bride disappear and the groom would have to go in search of her and barter the request for her "ransom" having to pay money and buy drinks to get her back...Elliott was whisked away several times during the reception...
The second official toast of the evening should have been made by the couple to their parents...but since that was not possible, the toast went instead to Alexander Waverly, thanking him for his years of guidance and his blessing of the marriage.
The band began to play softly as dinner was served. The guests sitting at the tables that had been arranged in a T shape with the bride, groom and witnesses seated at the top. Illya and Elliott fed each other amid the calls of "gor'ko" then visited with the guests along the table.
The music became more lively after the meal and following custom the couple took the first dance...the band played "Unchained Melody," while Illya and Elliott moved slowly holding each other closely.
"To Mr. and Mrs. Kuryakin!" April shouted.
"Mazel tov!" Ari called out.
"Gor'ko! shouted Mark, joined by the others... "Gor'ko! Gor'ko!"
The couple kissed until the band moved into a fast Russian melody and the two began to suddenly dance wildly, gypsy like...it was a combination of both Irish and Russian folk dance. Elliott spun doing intricate steps with her feet, Illya suddenly squatted to the floor, his arms crossed in front of his chest, dancing the Russian Kazachok, kicking his legs out alternately in front of him, then he jumped athletically to his feet, grabbing Elliott, finishing the dance with her as they spun together in each others arms, stopping at the exact moment the music ceased.
The guests broke out into wild applause and whoops, then joined the Kuryakins still catching their breath on the dance floor.
When things quieted down, Illya approached the band, making an announcement to the guests.
"Thank you my friends for making this a memorable day for us...it has been one of mostly Russian traditions in a Russian establishment but as you all know my wife..." he paused for a second, smiling at the word, "my wife is Irish...so I would like to take this moment to do something for her." He held out his hands asking Elliott to come to him.
Illya cleared his throat nervously, then nodded to one the Irish fiddlers who bowed a long sweet note on his fiddle, playing softly as he began to sing; not in a loud voice but it was true and strong enough. It was an old Irish song and one of Elliott's favorites,"The Banks of the Bann."
"When first to this country a stranger I came
I placed my affection on a comely young dame
She being warm and tender, her waist small and tender
Kind Nature had formed her for my overthrow."
"On the Banks of the Bann water, I first beheld her
She appeared like fair Venus or a Celtic queen
Her eyes shone like diamonds, her hairs softly twinning
Her cheeks were like roses, or blood drops in the snow."
"My name is Delaney and a name that won't shame me
And if I had saved money I'd have plenty in store
But drinking and courting, night rambling and sporting
Were the cause of mt ruin and my absence from home."
"Had I all the money that's in the West Indies
Or had I the gold of the African Shore
I would spend it on pearls and on you my red girl
For there's no other love in this world I adore."
"And now I've found her, I'm contented forever
I'll put rings on her fingers and gold in her hair
And we'll live on the banks of the lovely Bann river
In all sorts of splendor, I will style her my dear."
The guests erupted into loud cheers, applause and whistles when he finished but Illya did not wait for the next shout of "Gor'ko"...he pulled Elliott by the hands into his arms as she cried, embracing her in a tender kiss.
"Is thú mo grá, a stór_I love you," he whispered to her in Irish.
At the end of the evening Illya and Elliott handed each of the guests a small wedding cake, signaling they would be leaving soon...then kissing Demya as he slept in Mrs. Orloff's arms, they left hand in hand, but not before Elliott tossed her bouquet, it landing right in the arms of Lisa Rogers.
Napoleon was dancing with April as he watched Illya and Elliott disappear from the room.
"You look sad Napoleon?" April whispered to him.
"I suppose I am a little...things are changing, you know?"
"Always will," she smiled," we just have to make sure we go with the flow and adapt."
Napoleon suddenly smiled impishly, "Well then bear with me as I go with the flow..." he said as he planted a deep kiss on April's lips.
"Bout' time," she laughed, kissing him back.
Alexander Waverly, seeing Solo and Dancer kissing on the dance floor muttered, " Oh dear...not them as well?"
"Oh knock it off Alexander," chided Estelle Waverly," they're only human...don't you remember when we were young?"
"Quite." he smiled back at his wife.
Illya and Elliott Kuryakin changed to casual clothing as they left for their weekend at the Plaza Hotel...a small wedding gift from Napoleon. Their extended honeymoon would have to wait, as the preparations were under way for the upcoming Summit 5 conference to be held in New York and Illya Kuryakin would be over seeing the security for the entire event.
Illya unlocked the door to their suite as he and Elliott smiled at each other, lost in the purity of their love that they knew would have to sustain them through the realities of their work with U.N.C.L.E. and the dark twisted world of espionage.
They both knew compromises would have to be made...secrets kept to keep each of them safe... lies and deception always to be a part of their lives...but none of that mattered at the moment.
Illya bent to pick Elliott up to carry her over the threshold...
"Mr. Kuryakin, are ye sure...yer shoulder?"
"I am fine."he smiled," tonight I am strong like Russian bear for you, Elliott Kuryakina."
He lifted her easily into his arms, kissing her as he stepped across the threshold, kicking the door closed behind him with his foot.
FINIS