Work Text:
Illya Kuryakin was stumped. His partner, Napoleon Solo, had been acting out of character, even more so then normal lately – and secretive. Illya was worried.
After all it had not been that long ago that Napoleon had been replaced by a double in The Double Affair. The double had acted strange as well and Illya had not questioned it at the time. He should have. Maybe things would not have progressed as they had.
Solo attitude was even more morose since this last affair, The Terbuf Affair, after helping his old flame, Clara Richards Valdar. That was why on this cold, sleeting day he, Illya Kuryakin, was shadowing his partner.
It was not easy, after all Napoleon was CEA, but it was easier than it should have been. Solo had left work early that day, not flirting once with the myriad assortment of office personnel, as was his want. He had taken the subway, gotten off, bought a bouquet of flowers and then entered a cemetery. Illya, following close behind, wondered ‘was he meeting someone here?’ Curiouser and curiouser, Kuryakin’s thought as he moved behind a bare tree once Solo came to a stop in front of a headstone. It was a good thing he had planted a bug on Solo, though once it was found there would be hell to pay.
“Hello, baby. Yes, I know it’s been awhile.” A sigh was heard over the bug.
Illya peeked around the tree. Who was he talking to? There was no one there.
“I’ve missed you.” Napoleon’s hand was caressing a headstone. Distinctly odd. “Things have been rather hectic. Saving the world is like that. But I thought you should know – I’ve fallen in love.”
Illya pulled back in surprise. When, where, and more important with who? There had been no signs.
“Yeah, I know. I said that about Clara. But this is different. Boy is it different.”
Another sigh.
Illya peeked around the tree; Napoleon was now sitting on a bench in front of the headstone.
“He’s…that’s right, I didn’t tell you…it’s my partner. I know, I know…you’re shocked. So was I. It just sort of…snuck up on me.”
Napoleon wasn’t the only one in shock.
“Yeah, yeah, I know that it’s not considered acceptable. But don’t worry; I have no plans to act on it. ”
The sleet was coming down harder and as Illya snuck another look around the tree he noticed Napoleon’s face was wet, whether from the rain or not he wasn’t sure.
“Why you ask? I don’t know…we are nothing alike…we have nothing in common. He’s everything I’m not. He’s smart, sometimes too smart for his own good. He has a dry sense of humor, sometime you can almost miss it and …he can make me laugh. Something only you could do.”
True, though Napoleon usually laughed when he was being his most serious.
“He’s the only one I trust…in our line of work trust isn’t easy, relationships are even less so.”
Well that much was true.
“I’m a fool, I know…and no, I’ll never tell him. After all with my track record, why should he even believe me?”
Illya pulled back behind the tree his heart beating fast.
“It might have been different if you have lived. There would have been no other women. I probably would have ended up with a boring job and never met him,” Napoleon accused, then let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, baby, it’s not like you asked to go.”
Was it possible that Napoleon was speaking to the headstone and not to someone – living?
“I just thought I should tell you and say goodbye. Coming here hurts too much. There is really no one else I could tell and I know you will keep my secret.” Napoleon got up and placed the flowers on the grave.
Illya pulled back, trying to make himself invisible behind the tree. Holding his breath he waited until he was sure Napoleon was gone. Rounding the tree he came face to face with his partner. Damn.
The two men just stood there staring at each other, soaked to the skin by the sleet. Suddenly Illya moved around Napoleon and sat on the bench he’d so recently vacated. He looked at the headstone, the name, the dates, and the loving inscription.
“Hi, we’ve never met. You don’t know me. But I promise that if he’ll let me…” Illya stopped as he heard a gentle tinkle of laughter, a soft “thank you” and felt the pressure of distinctly feminine lips on one cheek. After a moment he pulled out his communicator, looked at his reflection in the case, shocked to see the impression of pink lips on one cheek. He replaced his communicator, and then gingerly put his hand up to cover the mark. Getting up from the bench he turned back to his partner. With a soft smile on his face Illya removed his hand and informed Napoleon. “I think she has given us her blessing.”
The End.