Napoleon finds himself involved with some surprising 'bedfellows' while tasked to solve a good old fashioned murder mystery. This story has multiple (but brief) crossovers.
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Chapter one, Chapter two
Estelle walked out to the sitting room, closing the lights there; she sat down in the dark and lit a cigarette for herself. It was a habit she’d picked up during the war. With bombs dropping all around she and the other nurses and doctors who were tending the wounded in the hospital bomb shelter, something was needed to sooth their nerves. One of the other nurses offered her a fag to calm her one day and that was the start of it.
Over the years she smoked less and less, mostly during times of stress. Tonight was definitely stressful but in an exciting sort of way. She’d been in U.N.C.L.E. headquarters before but it had always been for a social visit, usually on a holiday.
This evening being a part of an actual operation was quite thrilling. Though there was no real danger for her, it reminded her of her days during the war when one faced death and destruction. There was fear, yet there was determination and courage that saw you through those terrible times.
It was because of World War I that she met her husband, and Estelle liked to think that was the Lord’s reward to her for a job well done. *
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Napoleon reached into his pants pocket and drew out the diamond, cradling it in his palm. “Here it is.” He suddenly tossed it to his partner.
Illya reached with his good hand to catch it, scrambling to grasp the stone as it bounced. He finally had it and flashed a sour look to Solo..
“That was not funny. You are not Shlomo Khasanov, and should not be reckless with something so valuable.” Illya handed it back to him. “Here, you keep it in your possession.”
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As we began with a narrative, I have decided to conclude in the same way. Not entirely in rhyme this time ;)
After the fireworks and smoke, nothing was left for the UNCLE agents but to call in on their newly retrieved communicators and then wait. Rob did make his way back to Sir Thomas Beane's Estate, so the message was sent twice that reinforcements were needed. In spite of searching through the rubble, only a few survivors were found and, curiously, no sign of Her Ladyship nor the always slippery Ecks and Wye. If they had escaped the explosion then it would be up to Interpol or MI5 to track them down. For now, UNCLE's job was finished here.
The London office was quick to respond, and to the amazement of both Solo and Kuryakin, among those whose arrival they welcomed was the Old Man himself, in full tweed. Napoleon's wound was not as serious as he had first imagined. As it happened the bullet hit leather first, thanks to his shoulder holster not having been removed. The impact was remarkably like that of wearing a protective vest, eliciting thanksgiving for favors small and large.
Illya was, to Napoleon's amazement, completely intact. His naked torso did not reveal the previous wounds he had witnessed, and the energy with which his Russian partner had worked while extricating them both from within the courtyard defied the nearly dead man he had left in the care of Rob Stewart. Whether it was the magic of Christmas or the mystery of Scotland, he knew not. But once again Napoleon Solo marveled at how well they had made out on something that previously was viewed as nothing short of a tragic ending.
Alexander Waverly was in London awaiting the results of this affair, having flown in with his wife and children for what he called a serendipitous journey back to England, for the purpose of enjoying Christmas as a true English family should. Of course, Constance Waverly knew it was subterfuge, but went along willingly for the sake of the eventual good times they would have in her former homeland. The allure of an English Christmas did much to soften her attitude towards UNCLE business in the middle of her favorite holiday.
Happily for the Waverly clan, this mission was concluded before the Great Day. By the time the site was examined and all participants, those that survived, were rounded up for a later date with interrogations, the bells of London churches were ringing in the faithful for Midnight services. Illya and Napoleon had rooms at the Savoy, an unprecedented expression of largesse from Waverly. He summoned all of his kind regard for the two men he routinely sent into the worst possible situations, although his wife Constance did have some say in it; a detail of which the two recipients of the luxurious suite were aware.
Napoleon did make mention to Mr. Waverly concerning Rob Stewart, without whose help the victory would never have happened. Since the young man was left with no relations after the death of his mother (something he bore with unusual grace and no ill will towards those whose actions had most certainly caused it), he was invited to join the growing group of guests who would dine with the Waverlys on Christmas Day. Rob was only too happy to accept the invitation, his fascination with the two men he had met during this most unusual escapade (not to mention the extraordinary visitations of the Scottish Wildcat and the Kelpie), made him wonder if he too might work for the U.N.C.L.E. someday.
Illya Kuryakin was Russian, and therefore not unfamiliar with tales of mysterious creatures and magical transformations. He had certainly heard of Kelpies, and the tales surrounding the Scottish Wildcats. He had no other explanation for how his body had been saved from the tortured, bleeding mass of flesh he had been before the encounter with Rob. He wouldn't question any of it, for to do so was to discredit the healing, and the culture of Scotland. He wasn't always a man of faith, but wisdom dictated that he not scoff at it either. As for Napoleon, his heart was happy, which is to say that his optimism was intact and the Spirit of Christmas within him was shining bright as the lights on the Waverly's Christmas tree.
The meal was delicious, a traditional British feast of Beef Roast and Yorkshire Pudding, roasted parsnips and potatoes, and for dessert a beautiful array of sweets. Illya was as close to heaven as could be with the elaborate spread, while Napoleon basked in the warmth of the day. Adding to his pleasure was the unexpected arrival of his Aunt Amy, whose Christmas plans often revolved around her favorite nephew and his handsome friend. She had decided to fly to London as soon as Constance Waverly informed her of the situation and probable Christmas Day events. Both women set their hearts and hopes on a good outcome, and were richly rewarded as they sat at table among their favorite men.
Alexander Waverly looked around the great table, not unlike the one in his office. The large dining room in his London Home afforded room for this one, which seated twelve people. His people.
Constance was there as were their two grown children and families. That made seven. Completing the assembly were Amy Trudeau, Napoleon, Illya, Rob Stewart and of course Alexander.
Twelve. Like the Twelve Days of Christmas, the twelves months of the year, twelve hours of day and twelve hours of night. This was a complete circle, and one for which every soul was grateful. In spite of tragedy or loss, the spirit of the day remained joyful and full of gratitude for just being together on Christmas.
And so it was, at the end of the evening as each one left for various destinations...They each sauntered down to a warm, spritely cabbie
And away they all drove past the famous old Abbey
But each of them hailed as their cars pulled from sight
HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!
My version of Aunt Amy is slightly altered from what is usually written. You can find her story HERE
The BOO from UNCLE -part 2 of Chapter 14 and the CONCLUSION of the Halloween Round-Robin
“Mr. Waverly sir,” Solo’s voice, clearly recognizable, came over a bullhorn.”We’re here to rescue you.”
Illya miraculously maneuvered the helicopter, landing in the trash-filled but thankfully large open space of the lot, though it wasn’t an easy task in the dark.
A small crowd had gathered, drawn to the chopper and its spotlights.
“Nothing here to see!” Slate waved them off as Napoleon helped the Old Man into the helicopter.
The BOO from UNCLE chapter 14- part 1 of the CONCLUSION of the Halloween Round-Robin
The helicopter blades slowly cut the air as they moved in autorotation.
Kuryakin was at the controls, warming up the Bell helicopter as he waited for his partner, Dancer and Slate to arrive. He knew the layout of the immediate structures on the block that housed the UNCLE complex and he could picture it in his mind’s eye, but after that it was going to be tricky.
It had been quite some time since he’d piloted a chopper from the roof of headquarters. It was different when you were at the controls as opposed to being a passenger, and for that reason Illya reminded himself to pay greater attention to his surroundings in the future, especially above New York city.
Part one was here
The tracker stopped moving soon after, to Napoleon's relief, and even on foot he managed to catch up within twenty minutes. With any luck THRUSH still hadn't figured out that Kuryakin wasn't Hurwicz. If that was the case, they'd be keeping him alive and – relatively – unharmed.
Apparently THRUSH was hiding out in a small amusement arcade. Hmmm. He looked at the people spilling in and out of the wide open entrance way. Families with their children, young couples...a man on his own, dressed like he was, would stick out like the proverbial sore thumb. And the guy on the door was looking at each person going in – casually, maybe, but Napoleon knew a THRUSH guard when he saw one. There wasn't much chance of him sneaking in without being noticed.
Keeping his distance on the other side of the street, he pulled out his communicator and called Randolph. “Are you back yet?”
“No, not quite,” Randolph said, sounding distracted. “The traffic is a nightmare this time of day.”
He was alert immediately. “Not normally. Look around, does it seem as though anyone is following you?”
“No.” The answer came too quickly, followed by an awkward pause. “I....we ran into some roadworks. The ones that Kuryakin told us about, I guess.”
Ah. He carefully refrained from making any comment. “Alright. Do you think you're going to make it back okay?”
“Trust me,” Randolph said with a sigh.
He smiled. “Just being careful.”
“Right.” He could picture the head shake. “Well, just make sure you're careful with THRUSH.”
He had every intention of it.
Barbara continued on her way to wherever she’d been going, leaving Solo and Kuryakin still standing there in the corridor.
“You are welcome,” Illya said, crossing his arms in front of himself.
“If I had not chased you, then you would not have ended up arranging your date with Miss Buxom.”
“Oh that... well it would have happened eventually. Remember, when you’ve got it, you’ve got it and…”
“I know, I know and you have it. Napoleon you are still blowing smoke are you not?”
“Guess I am,” Napoleon clenched his extinguished cigar between his teeth and grinned.
Weight of the World, Part Two (conclusion)
Prompts used: evade, yellow
The sound of a helicopter startled Illya momentarily. He watched it set down a few hundred feet away and a familiar figure exited and make it’s way towards him.
Napoleon crouched beside him and placed a comforting hand on his arm. “Did you check?” he asked solemnly, tilting his head towards the field.
“None of this was your fault, my friend; you were ambushed.”
( You'll find the rest here )
The boys are going against orders to investigate a decoy satrapy, there's diguises and shots fired! F.B.I. Illya's taken prisoner but escapes, Napoleon arrives a little late to the rescue and there's the addtion of Spaghetti-O's with Meatballs...(you need to read to understand that one) And now an old adversary makes an appearance... and cling wrap? An old adversary has come and gone and now they mystery deepens...the team splits up with Napoleon gets intel from Mr. Waverly, and he follows Illya back to Little Russia....where a Russian ally appears, a new twist and some answers!
They're finally nearing their destination! But danger lurks around ever corner. Will their actions trigger an incident of international proportions...as in war between the East and the West. Some very surprising twists in the final chapter!
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Chapter 19 by glennagirl
Title: Regret, part IV
Author: Rose of Pollux
Word Count: ~800
(This is the conclusion of an early-days WIP here, here, and here; the first part is gen-mature for injuries, but the remaining parts are gen). This ties in to my Baron arc, which takes place early in the partnership, but the "Regret" series is technically separate from it.
( Regret, pt IV )