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section7mfu2015-04-20 09:25 am
"Memories" for the Short Affair
-Challenge: The Short Affair
-Prompt Word #2 – Rummage
-Prompt Colour – White
Author: mrua7
Title: "Memories"
Word Count: 780
Napoleon Solo sat at his desk in the office he shared with his Russian partner. Thumbing through his little black book to set up his next wave of dates; he ignored what Illya was doing until the noise finally distracted him enough to make him look up.
He watched Kuryakin rummage through a cardboard box atop his desk. Yellowed and worn, it look as though it had been taped up a fair number of times and had seen better days.
“What are you looking for?”
Illya ignored him as he continued thumbing through some papers, putting them aside along with several notebooks, what looked like a red marionette, several unidentifiable small packages wrapped and tied in very tattered brown paper. The last thing he removed from the box and unfolded was a white shirt with rather intricate embroidery.
Napoleon cocked his head, immediately recognizing the garment as a traditional Russian men’s shirt.
“I repeat chum, what are you looking for?”
Illya finally huffed. “I am cleaning house.”
“You have a rather interesting collection of odds and ends there,” the American agent commented.
“Odds and ends? Yes I suppose that’s what you might call them. Suffice to say...this is my entire life in a cardboard box.”
“Your life? I don’t understand.”
“Napoleon, you have been to my apartment and I am sure you have noticed I have little in the way of personal possession, other than my books.”
“It’s sort of hard to not notice, but the box…”
“The box contains remnants of my life, things I have managed to hold onto despite my somewhat transient existence. Though I am not an overly sentimental man, these are objects that have meaning to me.”
Illya gathered the small stack of papers, running them through a shredding machine, nodding his satisfaction. He reached to the bottom of the box, taking out a small spring with wires attached to it.
“What’s that?” Napoleon asked.
“My very first triggering device I designed for a bomb.”
“That’s sentimental?” Solo couldn’t believe that represented something precious to his partner, though given Illya’s penchant for bomb making and explosions; he supposed it made sense; still it was rather odd.
“I made it when I was but eight years old, fighting with the partisans during the war along with my father and brother. Well, fighting as best a child of my age could do. My small hands were quite helpful for reaching into small places for the placement of triggers for the bombs that were made. This small thing is the only physical reminder I have from that time in my life. Everything and everyone were destroyed by the Germans…”Illya’s voice trailed off, lost in thought.
“The puppet?” Napoleon asked, hoping that would be a more pleasant memory.
“Oh that,” Illya permitted a brief smile.”It is called Petruska. My grandmother used to have one that was similar to it; this one I bought on a whim at Christmas time from an illegal street vendor when I was GRU agent working in Novgorod. It represented some happy memories from my childhood.” *
That made Napoleon feel a little better. “The white shirt, it’s quite beautiful.”
“That my friend was a shirt I wore when I lived with the Kubayanski Cossacks. I was accepted to live among them and it was they who taught me to ride their magnificent horses.** He held it up, staring at it. There was something else he held in his hand, a small golden frame, but Solo coudln't see what it was.*** “But that my friend is a story for another time.
Illya quickly folded it, placing it back in the box along with his other belongings.
Napoleon was surprised his closed mouthed partner had shared this much with him. When it came to his past the Russian was very guarded; he had his reasons and Napoleon respected them.
Solo opened his desk drawer, pulling out a small package simply wrapped in plain blue paper.
“Here tovarisch, I was saving this for your birthday. I’d like to add this to your possessions but it's something not to be packed away in that box if you don’t mind?”
“Napoleon this is completely unnecessary,” Illya held up his hand in protest.
“I won’t take no for an answer.” He held out the gift until Kuryakin finally caved and accepted it.
Though he’d protested, Illya opened it with all the relish of a child on Christmas morning.
He held it up in the air, dangling a silver wristwatch by its leather strap.
“This is too..”
“Don’t say it chum. I don’t want to hear the words decadent or bourgeois. It’s a not just a gift for my partner, but for my friend.”
“Really?” Illya was taken off guard at those words.
“Read the back. It’s inscribed.”
“To my best friend, who brings out the best in me. NS.”
Illya was very quiet. “I do not know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say anything. Just let it represent a new… a good memory for you.”
Kuryakin put on the watch, and reached his hand across to Solo, offering it to him.
“Thank you my friend. It will be, I promise that.”
Napoleon clasped the Russian’s hand with a smile.
“Me too buddy..”
references to:
** “Zaporoche”
*** "An Iconic Image"
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I wonder what Illya shredded? Did I miss a clue?
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