A happy Independence Day to my American readers!
This story, written last Fourth of July, was my very first MFU piece.
It had been a particularly trying mission. Half a dozen innocents—two women among them—had come perilously close to being killed, which was never a good thing, and, Illya knew, especially not where Napoleon was concerned. The entire affair had left him unusually quiet and withdrawn, and the two of them had barely exchanged a word or look between boarding their plane in San Francisco, and, once back in New York, parting ways for a well-earned "seventy-two hour pass"—which happened to fall over Independence Day weekend.
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