section7mfu | Settled - Friendship Challenge

The sun was setting in a spectacular fashion, with hues taken from an array of fruity popsicles; red and orange, yellow and purple. It was a sight not lost on the Russian man who watched it as he sat perched atop a bench on the Santa Monica pier. The day had been long and the mission a success. It wasn't always that way.

Napoleon Solo looked sideways at his friend, relished the calm they were both experiencing at the moment. He was not anxious to break it.

"Illya?"

The blond lowered his eyes, looking instead at the wood decking beneath his feet. The remains of someone's meal lay crumpled within wax paper wrappings, just inches from the trash can.

"Why are people so careless? Do you ever wonder about that?" Illya leaned over and picked up the litter, deposited it in the can.

Napoleon wondered about a lot of things, not the least of which was what went on in the mind of his friend. He shook his head at the absurdity of finding the interest it had taken to throw the trash away, given the day they'd had.

"Looking for a new line of work?"

"I could do worse."

"Worse than picking up trash on a pier? In California?" Napoleon shook his head at the absurdity of this line of talk.

"Napoleon, do you ever get tired?" He shook his head again. Where was this heading?

"Illya, we had a rough day. But we made it, and the sunset is…"

"Almost gone. The sun will go down as it does everyday, and tomorrow we will get up once more, do our duty and hope to survive until another day can begin. I ask you once more, do you ever get tired of it?"

This time there was an ache in his voice, something was hemorrhaging from deep inside and no amount of world saving rhetoric could silence the cry of despair from those who couldn't be saved, but whose last hope had been for just a little longer in this life.

"We did the best we could." Napoleon's voice sounded weak to his own ears, the memory of how that THRUSH agent had looked as her own people shot her, despising her acts of treachery in helping the two UNCLE agents escape.

"I know we did… I… Sometimes our best isn't enough. It makes me tired for trying."

Napoleon did understand, he did get weary of the near misses, the bodies of the dead. There was a high cost for saving the world, higher than he could have imagined when he started out.

"You know, what we do isn't easy. If it was then everyone would do it." That brought a small smile to Illya's face. The absurdity was funny.

"Do you remember when we were on that case in England, with Morton and his THRUSH girlfriend?" Napoleon nodded, of course he remembered. That had been tragic in the end, for everyone involved.

''Yes, it hasn't been that long. Why?" Illya smiled again, turning to look at Napoleon with as earnest an expression as he could remember on his friend's face.

"It was a slightly facetious comment at the time, but in thinking back, well… regardless of what may happen in the coming years, I want you to know that I meant it, what I said."

Now Napoleon had to think back, reviewing that affair in fleeting moments, scene by scene. That final meeting with Mr. Waverly, the discussion of an impending wedding…

"You said we'd always have each other. I'm afraid it wasn't much of a consolation for me that day, considering other agents were marrying and, well… you know." Each man smiled at that, a memory, disappointment.

"Yes, I do know. And so I say it again, no matter what happens my friend, I will always be here for you. Regardless of the circumstances, the years… "

"We'll always have each other. Yes, we will.' Napoleon slapped Illya on the shoulder, a seal the deal sort of male gesture intended to both comfort and confer.

"So, how about something to eat? We have a coastline full of restaurants and beautiful women, why not enjoy the evening. I'd say we've earned it."

Illya stood up from his bench and looked out over the water once last time. The sun was almost entirely set now, the vibrant colors from a few minutes earlier transposed into deep blues beneath the white foam as waves continued to wash ashore.

"Yes, a celebration for those of us who live to tell the tale."

"Amen to that, brother."

"Moy drug… da, amen to that."

And, amen to that.