Brothers Old and New~ first meetings

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

This is sort of a sideways view of our hero's beginnings. Told from Napoleon's POV, it's deals more with impressions than with the actual first meeting... originally posted on Fanfiction.net under Mlaw
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I'd been with the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement for nearly two years as one of their enforcement agents, and a successful one at that, but I'd been through more than my fair share of partners. Alexander Waverly was insistent that I have one, though I worked fine by myself. I got into a few jams yet still managed to extricate myself and live to fight another day. But the Old Man kept sending partners my way.

For the most part we worked fine together, some better than others. Some how those were the ones that got themselves killed. The ones that managed to not get themselves on a slab in the morgue gave me a sense of uneasiness. After a while, I hoped I wasn't some sort of jinx...but despite my concern, Waverly persisted in his efforts.

I requested to just work alone, feeling that I was better off not having the attachment of a partner. It wasn't an ego thing, but something that haunted me, a distant memory from my military days in Korea, but the Old Man would hear nothing of it.

There was something up his sleeve, he had plans for me, but I just wasn't sure what they were and he most certainly was not cluing me in on them.

He was a sly one, never missed a trick, though I never complained about the partners he sent me and tried to be amicable with them and he had a sense of them just not working out with me. I was a bit of an optimist anyway, trying to look on the bright side when each one came my way.

But deep down inside, I hoped it wasn't my fault that I was getting some of these men killed? The ones that survived their brief paring with me seemed to be reassigned after only one or two missions. I started to wonder if it was me, but was assured it was not.

It was as if Waverly were searching for someone who'd have the right fit for me, but I doubted that person would ever exist again in my life time. One did once, but he was long gone.

And then I met him, the Russian; he was newly assigned to New York having transferred from headquarters in West Berlin. I'd seen him walking the corridors, usually with his nose buried in a file. He rarely looked up, or acknowledged people and there seemed to be a lot of whispering going on behind his back.

There was an air of suspicion about him since he was Soviet, a liaison from Russian Military Intelligence to U.N.C.L.E. that had been arranged by Waverly himself. Given the current political climate with the U.S.S.R. that, I thought was a rather bold move, but this was the Old Man's pet project and it was not my place to question the Russian's presence here. Waverly's decisions were always well thought out, and that was good enough for me.

He was not your typical agent, having a scientific background...Doctorate in quantum physics, a linguist, pretty much what we called an egghead. Waverly even gave him is own lab to tinker in. The guy kept to himsel,f being a stranger in an unwelcoming environment. In a way I didn't blame him.

His mere presence seemed to intimidate people. All the more reason why he remained aloof, keeping quiet and to himself. I'd heard he'd been assigned to work with a few agents, and rumor was that he was as cold as a frozen fish, rude and arrogant.

Not the kind of guy you'd want for a partner, those were the loner types that tended to watch out for themselves and no one else. The word pinko and Commie were muttered a lot and no one wanted to talk to him unless they had to. I ignored all that; no use passing judgement on someone I didn't even know.

We'd never been formally introduced until that fateful day when I walked into the conference room. He was standing there, silhouetted by the light from the office window behind him, dressed in a black suit and black turtleneck making him look pencil thin.

I never noticed before that he wasn't that tall or the fact that he really was pretty skinny. And with that mop of blond hair on his head; it made him look more like a kid. But it was those blue eyes of his that struck me. Icy cold, with his face remaining passive and emotionless. I could see why people had dubbed him the not too complimentary nickname of Ice Prince.

At first there was the initial bristling as testosterone filled the air, we two very different men stood there sizing up each other. But I decided not to let those feelings or what I'd heard color my opinion and that was when I offered him my hand.

As he returned my greeting he gave me a shy crooked smile, and those cold blue eyes warmed instantly.

I suddenly had a good feeling about him as our hands clasped.

.

It's been a long time now that Illya Kuryakin and I have been partners; no, not just partners but friends. He told me that day that we met in Waverly's office that I was the first person to offer my hand in greeting to him since he'd arrived in New York, and that meant a lot to him.

I quickly learned that what others perceived as coldness was his stoicism and dignity. He being Russian has a melancholy way about him and has his secrets. He's simply a private man and many things he will not share with me to this day even after all these years.

At times I sense a great sadness within him, and suspect that his life in Russia was not exactly a bed of roses. I've tried to get him to open up to me, but it seems that door is still too painful for him to unlock.

But that's okay, that's the way he is and I don't take it personally. The most important thing I've learned that this man is one who possesses a strong sense of devotion not only to duty and what is right, but an unfailing loyalty to me as well. I can always count on him as he is as constant as the wind.

He has my back and I have his. Together we are like the ancient Chinese symbol the Yin and Yang, the dark and light; together we make a whole. What one lacks the other makes up for. I trust him and as he does me...

We've shared laughter, comradery, philosophies and more than our fair share of liquor. We have an uncanny ability to read each other, and sometimes even finish each other's sentences. He has a dry and sometimes wicked sense of humor that he reveals only to me, and he takes my sarcasm and jabs in stride.

We still have our moments of disagreements, both being pretty competitive. Hey, we've even had a few fist fights but in the end we know that we are truly partners, friends, no more than that... brothers.

I had not permitted myself the luxury of such a closeness for a long time, not since my army days in Korea. My friendship with Illya made me remember things that like he, I too had buried.

My dad was more than pleased when I had enlisted in the army; he being a military man himself and a staunch believer in ridding the world of the Red Menace, ignoring the fact that his eldest son could lose his life in battle seemed immaterial to him. It was about pride, honor and duty to him.

I finished my basic training, then shipped off to Parris Island, Marine territory but it was there that we received our grueling training for Special Forces and where I first met the big guy himself, Billy Brasch.

A hulking man, a big mook as strong as an ox, with curly red hair the color of a carrot. But no one dared call him carrot top and not expect to get a ham-fisted punch to the nose. He was deadly with a rifle and could shoot the wing off a fly if need be.

And then there was Bob MacKenna, Scotty Bob they called him. A bit of a loner with a fierce temper, especially when he got a bit of the drink in him. But if he liked you, then he was fiercely loyal. Brilliant at strategy and taught me a thing or to say the least.

We somehow got the nickname of the Three Caballeros, it coming from that Disney cartoon movie of the same name, and I wasn't quite sure if it was an insult or a compliment. But I chose to think positively. Billy, Scotty Bob and I were inseparable partners, friends...brothers.

Though it was Bob that I felt the closest to. He was a smart man and I made a point of cooperating when he offered to take me under his wing, teaching me many things, with the exception of his drinking habits.

It was 1950, we were off on classified operation with our unit having crossed into Northeast Korea. We were sharp and full of gun ho, and ready to die for the cause. Full of spit and unbridled energy.

We were the U.S. X Corps and we'd accompanied U.N. Troops to Chosin Resevoir, but it was there we found ourselves in big trouble. We were caught unawares then then People's Republic of China entered the war, sending the People's Volunteer 9th Army into the fray. They infiltrated the Northeast and surprised us.

It was a seventeen day battle between the months of November and December, taking a heavy toll on us. 30,000 United Nations troops and the X Corps, were surrounded by nearly 60,000 Chinese troops.

The battle's main focus was along the 78 mile long road that ran from the Resevoir to Hungnam, cut through the hilly terrain of Korea with steep climbs and drops. A Siberian cold front had descended in November and the temperatures dropped as low as -35˚. The ground was frozen solid, casualties were in danger of frostbite, icy roads made movement difficult and caused weapons to malfunction.

We clung together in our foxholes and prayed to God to make it though it all, it was there the saying there are no atheists in foxholes rang ever so true. The nights seemed blacker than black when the skies were not lit up with artillery fire. You could see the bullets leave a glowing trail as they whizzed by.

After a while we forgot why we were there, who was right or wrong as it just didn't seem to matter when being caught in the thick of the battle just trying to stay alive. Watching your friends being blown apart in front of your eyes. More and more of the men I knew were now laying in black rubber body bags. It just didn't make sense anymore. The pride, honor and duty that my father had lectured about seemed almost meaningless.

Billy, Scotty and I clung to each other, watching each other's backs and vowing that we'd either all live or all die, but either way it was going to be together.

Somehow our troops managed to breakout of the encircling grip of the Chinese forces, inflicting crippling losses against them.

We three brothers survived, running the the gamut along that long road making it towards Hungnam, fighting in more skirmishes and bitter battles. We had heard that this withdrawal of what remained of the X Corps and the U.N. troops was signaling the end to the war. But we were wrong.

It was there just as Hungnam was in sight, Scotty Bob smiled at me.

"Guess we beat old Hob himself on this one enh Nappy?" Suddenly there was a look of shock in his eyes as his body jerked. He fell forward into my arms and I held my friend, my brother as he lay dying.

"Hey don't worry about me kid," he rasped, "don't let it get you down. Just remember to fight the good fight ….don't forget what I taught.."

That was it, he never finished the sentence. I closed is eyes now dull and lifeless, bowing my head as I cried. But I knew what he meant, and would remember the lessons he'd taught me.

I wouldn't forget Scotty Bob, but I told myself, "never again." I wouldn't let myself get this close to someone again, the pain wasn't worth it. I kept in touch for a bit with Billy after the war. I didn't re-up like him, much to the disappointment of my father. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do with myself. I knew I wanted to do something good, something important, but the military was not it.

Then I received a telephone call out of the blue from a man named Alexander Waverly. We met, he spoke to me about U.N.C.L.E. and I knew instantly that was my calling, working for an organization dedicated to help rid the world of evil...

I'd kept my word, not letting myself get close to anyone as I worked as an enforcement agent. I maintained my distance with every partner that was sent my way. I wasn't unfriendly to anyone and gave a more than a hundred percent on every mission, both to the job and the people I worked with. I think most of them thought I was some sort of a loner, and maybe that was true to a point.

But then I finally broke that promise made so long ago to myself when I met Illya Kuryakin. I opened my own door and let him in and am glad I did so...

Comments

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

Very nice! As usual, you do a good job on your ocs, working them smoothly into a very canonesque feeling the partnership.

Good work showing how Napoleon has his own walls.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Scotty and Billy, a young Napoleon Solo and the years before UNCLE; that's a nice history.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

I've wanted to expand on Napoleon's past but it doesn't seem to get much attention. The Illya stories do, but I think I have a few NS background stories in the making anyway.

Thanks for commenting and posting the anniversary suggestion for these stories.

[jkkitty.livejournal.com]

Nice, brothers--says a lot