Sacrifices for the Greater Good
Grief VIII
Unfortunately, Napoleon eventually found out that he hadn't managed to escape the consequences of his impromptu night of theft when he returned to his hotel one night to find Waverly waiting for him, having already made himself comfortable with a glass of wine.
"This is an unexpected visit." Napoleon commented, draping his coat over an armchair and refusing to allow the other man to see him phased by his presence. "I thought you would give me more time to consider your offer."
"I was planning to." Waverly admitted, folding away his newspaper. "But I thought I would come see you after recent events came to light."
"Oh?" Napoleon feigned ignorance.
"You stumbled on one of my operations." Waverly said and this revelation came as such a surprise that Napoleon's carefully crafted mask slipped slightly revealing his shock. "I wasn't expecting you to be that keen." He commented drily.
"I apologise, I did not realise. I hope I didn't mess things up too badly." Napoleon said sincerely. He wondered what on earth interest Waverly could have possibly had in such a gathering.
"Not at all. Your presence did come as a bit of a surprise though. Some warning about your plans would have been helpful." He replied pointedly, and Napoleon felt himself turn red against his wishes. Waverly always gave off the air of a disappointed parent whenever he admonished his team.
"I am sorry." Napoleon said sincerely, and felt a sudden burst of curiosity. "What exactly where you doing there?
"Surveillance work." Waverly said nonchalantly. "I could tell you more if you decided to work for me again."
"I do appreciate the offer, Alex. I'm just not sure if I want to start doing spy work again." Napoleon said honestly.
"Well why don't you come to my office tomorrow?" Waverly suggested. "No obligations. I could introduce you to some of my agents, let them tell you what the work is like. Clear up any lingering doubts."
"No strings attached?" Napoleon asked sceptically.
"None. If you're going to work for me I would like you to be willing, not duped into it." Waverly promised. "Should I expect you tomorrow?"
"Yes." Napoleon said before he could change his mind. He didn't stand to lose anything by talking to a few people, and he trusted Waverly at his word that he would not be obligated to join by visiting the next day.
"Excellent." Waverly looked pleased as punch and he rummaged around his coat for something. "Here's the address." He said, handing over a card. Napoleon examined it as he took it, it was a business card listing Waverly's full name and the address of his new headquarters.
"I'll see you tomorrow." Napoleon managed to say with a smile.
A couple of hours later and Napoleon was still wide awake, already regretting what he had said to Waverly. Now that his initial feelings over the conversation had faded he could feel immense doubt for what was ahead. Had he inadvertently led Waverly on about his potential desire to work with him again? He still really did not know how to feel about the whole situation, was he ready to sign his life away again? No, he decided, he wasn't. He had seen how his spy career could end, and it conflicted with his personal wish of dying from a heart attack underneath a beautiful young woman.
Napoleon struggled over it until dawn lightened his room, and he sat up with a sigh and rubbed his tired eyes. He would look a state when he arrived at Waverly's office, if he arrived that is. It occurred to him that he had enough resources to sell off to acquire a plane ticket far away from London, he could leave and never bother to meet up with Waverly. He was sure the other man would understand, even considering taking on another job as a spy could not be a decision taken lightly.
But was escaping really a solution? He couldn't lie to himself anymore, he had been restless. It was difficult making the transition from his adrenaline-rich career back to a life of obscurity. Even stealing no longer had the same thrills as it had so long ago, mostly perhaps because he knew that the likely worst consequence would be that he would be forced to repay another debt to society, either through prison time or more spy work. And it was a likely possibility. He felt like he knew himself pretty well- he would keep doing more and more dangerous things until he felt like he was living life to the full again. At the end of the day it seemed like his decision would come down to a simple question: would he rather work for a spy agency on his own terms, or be forced into it again at a later date?
An answer to his dilemma was not forthcoming, and he found it difficult to make difficult decision on a morning without a decent dose of caffeine to brighten the senses. He ordered up some breakfast and thought over it more once his basic needs for food and coffee had been met adequately. He couldn't really leave so suddenly, he owed Waverly more than that. The least he could do would be to entertain the offer, make all the appropriate gestures including going to the office to inform himself some more. If he had any doubts, he could decline or request further reassurances.
With that settled, Napoleon dressed properly and splashed some water on his face, hoping it would brighten him up a little and make him look less like he had spent the entire night awake and not for the usual good reasons he stayed up so long. It had little effect other than dampening his hair, but he did feel better from the act. He used the damp to reshape his hair into something he preferred, and set off, hailing a cab to take him to his destination.
He looked out of the window as they travelled, curious as to where exactly this building was. It had sounded innocuous enough on paper, which made sense, their UNCLE headquarters had been disguised as an office building after all. The UNCLE headquarters had at least looked fairly impressive, and he was looking for a similar building as they drove around, instead he watched with some surprise as the car approached a slightly rundown and small construction.
"Your destination." The cab driver said, sounding bored. Napoleon paid him and exited the car, feeling deeply suspicious of what lay ahead. He didn't think it was a trap, it was too blatant for Waverly and he had no motivation to kill or harm Napoleon.
He approached the building with care, equally curious and wary. There was no one at the door to stop him, so he pushed his way through to come to an equally ramshackle reception with a lone woman behind the desk, idly filing her nails. He moved over towards her, slightly perturbed that she didn't pay him the slightest bit of attention until he stood only a foot away from her.
"Can I help you?" She asked, tone slightly more aggressive than necessary.
"I have an appointment." Napoleon said uncertainly.
"With who?"
"Alexander Waverly." The name caused her to change demeanour immediately, going from bored and unhappy to slick and professional.
"Go into the lift, press and hold the alarm button for five seconds." She told him, face impassive but no longer hostile. "You'll arrive at a new floor, proceed along the corridor and speak to my colleague." She explained succinctly. Napoleon felt a sudden deep appreciation for how much more work had been put into this organisations cover, he thanked her for her help and did as she instructed. Pressing the alarm button for five seconds appeared to signal some instruction to the elevator to take it deep it underground. The building may have seemed small on the outside, maybe only three floors visible, but clearly it extended far below the ground.
Once it finally stopped, the doors opened and Napoleon exited to see corridors and rooms that were very different from the reception he had just left. In the reception the wallpaper had been peeling, and the carpet threadbare. In this new part the walls were sleek and metallic, lacking decoration but looking far better for it, the floor was tiled instead of carpeted and well maintained. Everything he saw suggested a well-funded and competent intelligence branch. There was a second reception at the end of the corridor, and he headed in that direction looking curiously at all the unmarked rooms he passed along the way. Each door was numbered but held no label, clearly with the intention of confusing intruders should they arrive. There were also no windows into any of the rooms that might betray their purposes, you could walk into one to find a stash of weapons or a small army waiting, and have equally little idea before the door opened.
"You have a meeting with Mr Waverly?" The receptionist asked as he approached, the first receptionist clearly had some method of communicating downstairs their visitors. He looked around himself for a moment, admiring the architecture that had gone into the building. The reception seemed the central hub from which several corridors branched off from, each appearing identical except for the numbers on the doors.
"Yes, he should be expecting me." Napoleon replied, giving the redhead a charming smile.
"He is waiting for you in Room 18." The woman told him and pointed out the corridor he needed to take. He thanked her and travelled down the suggested corridor until he found the designated room. It was a little unnerving opening the door with no idea or expectation of what lay behind it, but when it swung open it revealed a simple office setting, Waverly examining some papers behind his desk.
"Napoleon!" He greeted with a smile. "Do come in and take a seat. I'll have Jessica bring us some tea." Napoleon did as he was suggested and sat opposite Waverly. "I have to admit I half-expected you not to arrive." The older man confessed. "I understand that this might be a little daunting."
"I almost didn't." Napoleon admitted. Jessica, the redheaded receptionist, arrived at this point with a small tray, effectively putting a halt to the conversation. Once she had left again, Waverly resumed speaking as they waited for the tea to brew.
"Perhaps you will allow me to give you a more detailed job description?" At Napoleon's nod of assent, he continued. "As I have told you, my branch deals with surveillance. I have groups of undercover individuals in both high and low-ranking positions in various companies and organisations. They watch out for and gather intelligence which I then pass on to the relevant governments or groups. It is relatively low risk work for them, but I need someone with your particular set of skills to take on a more active role. They mostly listen and report back, and I occasionally need someone to act on what is discovered and break into homes or businesses to acquire documentation."
"So essentially you want me to use my skills as a thief to supplement what your other agents discover?" Napoleon asked, and Waverly nodded enthusiastically in agreement.
"That is exactly right. It is slightly more dangerous than the work my surveillance operatives perform, but still lower risk than much of the work you did for UNCLE. The people we investigate tend to be those that hire others to perform their dirty work rather than take up arms themselves." Waverly elaborated. "You would of course work closely with my other agents, I've asked a few to come in today to speak to you, should you wish for some further information from a less biased source."
"Work with a team again?" Any enthusiasm for his potential new role immediately faded with that revelation. Napoleon wasn't sure how well he could cope with such a thing. "I don't know Alex, you know how badly that ended last time."
"I know. And I wouldn't ask if I didn't think you could cope. Why don't you speak to them before you dismiss the idea completely?" Waverly suggested, eyes pleading with him to at least attempt that.
"I'll speak to them, but I don't think it will change my mind." Napoleon warned.
"That's all I ask." Waverly told him. "They are waiting in Room 22. Listen to what they have to say, I'll be by soon enough." Napoleon nodded and finished his cup of tea before setting it back down. Without another word he left the room, and after regaining his bearings he found the next room he needed to go into.
To his surprise, inside were the couple he had met several nights ago. Lord and Lady Barrow. Now dressed in more casual clothing than when he had last seen them, Lady Barrow was sprawled across a seat looking vaguely discontent while her husband read a newspaper by her side. They both looked up when he walked in, and Lady Barrow beamed at him with the same smile she had given him when he was a 'guest' in their home.
"I want my ring back." She said immediately, her demand causing him to redden. It was rare that he was confronted so boldly about his thieving, usually he was far away from his victim by the time they realised what he did.
"I don't have it with me." He said, trying to sound more casual than he felt. "I am sorry about that."
"No you're not." She said plainly. "But I accept your apology." Her husband had put away his paper and was watching the exchange dispassionately, and Napoleon wondered if they were actually together or not.
"So do you both work for Waverly?" He asked. Lady Barrow nodded cheerily.
"We have done for about a year, we're really looking forward to working with you." And indeed she did, the excitement evident from her entire demeanour, she was practically bouncing in her seat. "Waverly told us you were back in town and he was going to ask you to join."
"I haven't accepted yet." Napoleon said, more coldly than he had been intending. Her obvious assumption that he would grated on him, he didn't like to feel like he was pushed into something. "I don't work with others."
"You've worked in teams before." Lord Barrow suddenly spoke up, startling Napoleon. He realised with no small amount of anger that they had clearly been given his file by Waverly, the presumption of it all only making him more determined to reject Waverly's job offer.
"If you know that," Napoleon practically spat, the fury rolling off him in waves, "then you should also know that the last time I worked in a team it ended very badly. I lost people that I really cared about, and I will not sully their memories by finding some hollow replacement." They both shifted uncomfortably at his tirade, the smile dropping from Lady Barrow's face as Lord Barrow removed the thick rimmed glasses from his face in order to clean them with a handkerchief.
"I didn't know you cared so much, Cowboy." Lord Barrow said, his accent suddenly and distinctly Russian.
Author's Note: So… that happened. I'd like to point out my original author's note for this chapter was literally four words "LOL I regret nothing." However considering some of the backlash, I feel the need to explain that this was always the plan from the very start of the fic, it is not something I have retroactively added. I'll explain more of my motivation in the next author's note (or if you ask me directly in a comment I will respond) but this one is getting too long now. We are now moving onto 'Recovery', most of which was actually written directly after 'Mission' and will explain story-wise what happened.