When he was finished with his work, Napoleon glanced at the clock. It was nearing the end of the day. UNCLE should be winding down now and all of the daytime personnel should be heading home pretty soon. He took that as his cue to go and retrieve his partner from Records. After tidying up his desk, he turned and was quickly out the door.
When he entered the busy records room, he received a handful of girlish smiles and gleaming eyes. "Hello, girls," he greeted subtly.
The grins broadened and a few of them said, "Hello, Mr. Solo."
He shared with them his famous smile and they all but swooned. "Is, uh, Miss. Kauola here?" he asked.
The brunette closest to him nodded towards a doorway behind her. "She's in the back room. I'll take you to her," she said.
"How very kind of you," Napoleon replied, following the young woman's lead.
"I suppose you're here to take him away," the girl said as they walked.
Napoleon glanced at her, surprised at the level of gloom detectable in her statement. "Well, it is about closing time."
She sighed forlornly, "I suppose. We did enjoy having him here though, even if he was scared of us."
Napoleon laughed inwardly. It was amusing to think of his fearless partner being scared of a few harmless, albeit oppressive, girls. He could just envision their various advances and Illya's polite, but firm dismissals. Yes, that was very believable.
"It's too bad he has to go," she continued. Suddenly, her eyes lit up with hope, "Do you think you'll bring him back again tomorrow?"
He pursed his lips thoughtfully and tilted his head slightly to the side. "I suppose it's possible. We'll see."
"I sure hope so. He's so cute."
Napoleon cocked an eyebrow in question and turned to look at her with a certain level of skepticism.
The girl didn't seem to notice, "He's so moody and…foreign." She all but shivered in childish delight.
'What's so special about that?' Napoleon wondered.
"Say! Do you know what color his eyes are? Me and the girls have been arguing about it all day. We even tried to look it up, but his personnel file is classified."
"I really wouldn't know," Napoleon lied. Of course he knew what color his partner's eyes were. But at that moment, Napoleon decided that these girls were a bit too creepy to encourage. He took back all of the jokes he had mentally made about his partner a few moments ago. Napoleon thought, if the roles were reversed, surely he would be frightened of these girls too. He was grateful when he was finally deposited into the care of Miss Kauola.
"I assume you've come for Mr. Kuryakin?" Kelly asked.
"Yes," he answered, eyes searching around the room for his partner. "How is he?" Napoleon asked.
"See for yourself." She gestured with her arm through a doorway.
Napoleon walked forward a few steps and craned his neck until he saw his friend. Illya was sitting at a desk, head bowed slightly and wearing headphones. In his hand, he held a pen and a half-used sheet of sticky labels. He sat that way for a few seconds before scribbling something down onto the paper. Napoleon turned back to look at Kelly. "How's he been doing?" he asked.
She nodded encouragingly, "For the most part, very well. He's had a couple of mistakes; writing too big to where the words didn't all fit on the label, sticking a few of them upside down. If it was ever something he could help, I'd only have to correct him once and he would never make the same mistake again."
Napoleon nodded, "That sounds like Illya," he said, somehow placing a new level of pride in his partner. He knew how hard it was for Illya to be so disabled (for lack of a better word). The Russian had never before lacked confidence in his own abilities when it came to anything. Now, he was faced with the unchangeable fact that he was finally vulnerable in this very real way. It damaged his pride and humbled his ego, discouraging him at first; but today had been proof that the agent was still not beaten. He would not be deemed useless. He would now fight and strive ten times harder than he ever did, and if Napoleon knew anything about Illya Kuryakin, he was convinced that the man would rise above it all and conquer the expectations the rest of the world was so feeble in lacking.
As if noticing Napoleon's apparent train of thought, Kelly commented, "He's terribly committed you know. I haven't seen him take a break since lunch."
The enforcement agent was snatched from his thoughts when he heard this news. He glanced at his watch and a scowl fell over his face. If that were true, then Illya would have been working nonstop for at least six hours. Then Napoleon sighed and nodded again, "Yep…that sounds like Illya too. Then I'd say that's my cue to make sure he gets home."
Napoleon was about to head in Illya's direction when he paused and then turned back to face Kelly, "So, would you say he's been helpful?"
"Oh, yes! Very helpful! I think he's probably cut down on the number of tapes by at least half since he got here."
Napoleon looked thoughtful, "So could he come back again tomorrow?"
"If he'd like to," she nodded. "He's certainly welcome here."
"Good," Napoleon said absently. Records had been the fourth place he had looked to find a job for Illya. He didn't know how many other departments would be able to use a blind man's labor. If Illya out-worked his welcome in this department, Napoleon feared he would be hard pressed to find him another suitable assignment. 'Oh well. It's only temporary,' Napoleon told himself. 'At the end of the week, Illya will go see the doctor again and…' the agent gulped, then he forced his mind's voice to say, '…and then he will be reinstated.' Napoleon took in a deep breath, forcing that thought to plant itself confidently in his mind. Somewhere deep within him though, some ruthless voice continued to nag at Napoleon, trying to convince him that Illya was a lost cause. But nevertheless, Napoleon stubbornly kept himself from believing it. He turned and headed purposefully towards his partner.
Illya still had the headphones on so he couldn't hear his friend approach. He did, however, smell the familiar cologne. He removed the headgear and inclined his head. He listened, but the brief footsteps halted. "Napoleon?" he inquired.
The dark-haired agent silently turned and shared a perplexed expression with Kelly who was observing from the doorway. Turning back to his partner, Napoleon stated, "You're going to have to tell me how you did that."
Illya chuckled slightly, saying, "I'm a spy, remember? We like to keep secrets."
Napoleon nodded with a sly smile, "You ready to go?"
"Not quite. I still have a few more tapes to finish." Illya placed his hand on the desk and felt around for the stack of remaining tapes.
"Let me rephrase that: you are ready to go. Those will be here when you get back."
"Back?"
"Yes…that is, if you're up for work again tomorrow. They could still use your help here."
Inwardly, Illya was relieved. Even though the work was tedious and the atmosphere a bit lonely, he was still grateful for the change in routine. He didn't want to go back to just sitting alone in his apartment, waiting for Napoleon to visit after he'd been released from work. Now, Illya actually had something to do. He could at least put himself to some good use. He was relieved to hear that his services here were still needed. Nodding, he stated, "In that case, just give me a moment to tidy up…"
Knowing that the Russian would never leave a desk if it were messy, Napoleon stepped in and helped his partner. Within a few minutes, Illya's workplace was clean and ready for business to commence tomorrow morning. After that, with hand on shoulder and cane dangling loosely at Illya's side, the pair set forward out of the record's department...much to the dismay of the young ladies left behind.
To be continued…
