An Oasis - Short Affair - August 3rd

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

Prompts – Flutter/Green
Word Count (approx.) – 405


The last thing Alexander Waverly expected, when he stepped onto the roof of headquarters, was to find Illya Kuryakin tending a small garden.

The Old Man occasionally went up there for a little fresh air, especially if he’d had a trying morning. He’d noticed the small garden slowly growing in size, and had witnessed a few of the staff planting and watering, but he would never have thought to see one of his toughest agents doing the same. The man was carefully plucking weeds from between the lush, green foliage, and was apparently engrossed in the task.

“Did you need me, Sir?”

Not so engrossed then, Waverly mused.

“Not at all, Mr Kuryakin,” the chief told him. “I was just taking a breather. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

Illya climbed to his feet, and assured his boss he wasn’t intruding.

“Somebody brought a garden chair up here a few days ago,” he commented, before setting it up.

“I’m not so decrepit yet, but I won’t say no. Thank you.”

Waverly sat down and lit up his ever-present pipe. Illya dropped back to his knees and his previous task.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a gardener, Mr Kuryakin.”

“It’s been a long time,” Illya replied, after a long pause. “My Babushka had a small flower garden when I was a child. She used to let me help her.”

Waverly was astonished. Not at the revelation, but that fact it had been revealed at all. Kuryakin was not one to mention his childhood, or family, to anyone. He stared at the Russian’s back, and could see from the change in body language that he hadn’t intended for that fact to be known.

“My grandchildren like to plant flowers,” the Old Man replied. “Though that is more my wife’s province. I don’t really have the time.”

Illya didn’t answer. He simply continued his weeding.

Waverly lapsed into silence and sucked on his pipe. As he watched the other man quietly working, he noticed that the little garden was attracting quite a few butterflies. They fluttered from flower to flower, adding their beauty to that of the blooms. He had no idea who had begun the garden, with its many pots and troughs, but he was suddenly grateful for its presence. Anything that gave his Russian acquisition a link to happier memories could only be a good thing.

Carefully and silently, Waverly stood up and left Illya to his ministrations.