"To dream a dreamless sleep" ~ for the Song Story Challenge.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

:

Illya Kuryakin was known to brood when a mission had gone bad, especially when it involved the loss of an innocent life.  This time however, he wasn’t the one feeling down in the dumps.

It was a rare thing to find Napoleon in such a mood, given he was the eternal optimist.

After their debrief on their assignment Solo and Kuryakin went their separate ways, as the Russian sensed the moodiness of his partner.

When he was feeling the same way, Solo would often hound him to get him out of his funk, sometimes very much against his will. There was many’s the time Kuryakin would cooperate with his partner merely to get him to leave him be.

Napoleon’s eternal cheerfulness could be a bit much at times…

Illya was not cut from the same cloth as the American, though the idea of catching up to Napoleon and talking to him crossed his mind. He decided against it, at least for a while. Sometimes a man needed to be alone with his thoughts to sort them out.

The Russian believed in giving a man his privacy; that was something that Solo didn’t seem or want to understand.

Illya checked with Security when he found the office he shared with Napoleon was unoccupied and apparently had been the entire afternoon.

“Mr. Solo left around noon time sir and hasn’t returned,” the agent in charge responded.

Having remembered Napoleon parked his car in front of Del Floria’s that morning, Illya asked one more question.

“Can you check the tapes of the street camera for me? In which direction did Mr. Solo drive?”

“Give me a minute sir while I check.”

Illya could hear switches being clicked as the afternoon tape was being rewound and played.

“He did a U-turn sir, heading east.”

“Thank you.”

Illya had a good idea where Napoleon had gone, and it wasn’t home; to do that he would have had to have driven off in the opposite direction.

The Russian signed out of headquarters and taking a taxi, he headed to a hole in the wall bar called Houlihan’s.

It was an old time Irish bar, with dark wood paneling. The bar, booths and tables were the same. The ceiling was old fashioned tin with a pressed design meant to imitate, as an affordable alternative, the exquisite plasterwork used in European.

Generally painted white, as this ceiling once no doubt had been, it was now stained dark from years of cigarette smoke from the patrons.

In the background a phonograph playing some sort of melancholy Irish song could be heard.

Sitting in the shadows at the end of the bar was Solo; a bottle of rye and a glass in front of him.

Illya wordlessly sidled up to him, sitting on the next barstool.

“What’ll ye have?”The Irish bartender asked.

“Jameson... twelve year, straight,” Illya asked, knowing better than to order vodka in such an establishment. Having been stationed in London under GRU and then for UNCLE, he’d learned such things.

The drink poured, Illya raised the glass and down it. It was intensely spicy with almost a sherry richness to a nutty flavor, and a bit of woody undertone. He’d forgotten how enjoyable the right whisky could be.

Napoleon knew his partner was there, but chose not to acknowledge him for the moment.

“Are you going to finish that bottle?” Illya finally asked.

“That was the plan.”

“Napoleon this is not like you, and is very much out of character.”

“So?”

“So it has me concerned. I am the one who broods, not you.”

“Well sometimes I do too. It’s not exclusively yours. Life isn’t fair and it gets to me too you know.”

“I understand. Do you mind if I help you with that bottle? You Americans have a saying...misery loves company.”

Without saying a word, Napoleon touched one finger to the bottle and pushed it towards his partner.

“Help yourself.”

That was the last thing said. The two men sat in silence, slowly emptying the bottle.They finished it off and started on another, this time Jameson and they remained there until last call.

Together they staggered out to the street; Mike the bartender had called a cab for the two, seeing as how Solo was a semi-regular.

Once home, Illya accompanied Napoleon upstairs to his apartment and watched as his partner collapsed onto his bed. He removed Solo’s shoes, as well as his jacket and shoulder holster; tucking Napoleon’s Special beneath his pillow.

He opened his eyes, and finally spoke. “Does it get any easier?”

“To be honest, probably not, but still it is our job to continue on no matter what. It is a dirty job, but one that must be done.”

“No matter the cost?” Napoleon mumbled.

“Not if we can help it. Now close your eyes and may you dream a dreamless sleep.”

Illya left, setting the door alarm and locking up after himself.

“Not if we can help it,” Napoleon repeated those words, “but sometimes we can’t, that doesn’t make it any better.”

He closed his eyes again, praying for the innocent lives that he couldn’t save, and for that dreamless sleep...

Comments

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

You set the scene very well, bringing a harsh reality into focus.

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

Oh, well written; and the angst is canonesque. And excellent original scene (with bartender). Plus the very good touch about the whisky.

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

I really enjoyed this, it's a wonderful glimpse into a side of Napoleon we don't usually see. And I particularly love the detail of Illya tucking Napoleon's special under his pillow.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you. I thought it would be a good change for Napoleon to be brooding for once. He can't always be the eternal optimist.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you! It isn't often the angst is in relation to Napoleon...a little change of pace. That's how the prompt struck me.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much! It often we writers have the angst and melancholy with Illya, so it was a nice change for me to have it from Solo. He's only human after all.

[pfrye.livejournal.com]

Sad, dark.....but a beautiful description of 12 year old Jameson!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

lol! Thank you...you do know I'm Irish right? I knew someone would appreciate the bit about the Jameson!

Usually it's Illya who gets the dark melancholy stories. I thought it would be a nice change to have it be Napoleon experiencing the melancholy. He's the eternal optimist but only human.

[pfrye.livejournal.com]

I'm Irish on my Dad's side and Welsh on my Mom's....with a tiny bit of Norse thrown in to make it interesting. While Jameson is good my favorite is "Black Bush" - Bushmill's aged in Sherry kegs.....very smooth. Lots of Murphys, Kellys etc. in the background.....Frye is my married name.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

If you ever happen upon an Irish whiskey called "Tirconnell" give it a try. Smoothest whiskey I've ever had.

[pfrye.livejournal.com]

Will do so....going to Great Britain and Ireland next year for our 25th anniversary so I'll see if I can find it there....

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

I miss Ireland! sniffle sniffle. Any particular area you're planning on going to?

[pfrye.livejournal.com]

Haven't made our plans yet - I do really want to visit Newgrange - haven't been there yet. Love the west coast..was fond of Spiddle.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Ahhh the west is my place. Have been to Spiddle. Do you speak any Irish as that's in a Gaeltacht.

[pfrye.livejournal.com]

No afraid not - I tried but for some reason my brain has a hard time with foreign languages (even when I was younger!) I've tried. I suspect it has something to do with my neurological condition (I'm constantly getting new little dead spots in my brain and have to "re-wire").

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

I can understand the rewiring thing as I suffered a stroke a few years ago and have short term memory issues because of it.

I taught Irish in adult ed. classes for years so if you want any help, let me know.

I once made up a handbook for some students going to Ireland that gave them basic phrases
and questions- with the phonetics. lol!

[pfrye.livejournal.com]

Thanks!

[yumyumpm.livejournal.com]

I'm sure there were more scenes like the one you described so well. It was the nature of the job and Napoleon really had a tender heart.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thanks so much. You hit the nail on the head,'Napoleon has a tender heart.' Even the most eternal optimist can have a bad day.

[alynwa.livejournal.com]

I like how Illya gave Napoleon his space rather than imitate what Napoleon does which is stay by his side and try to get him to talk. Your description of Jameson made me remember I have a bottle somewhere, LOL!

Thanks so much for participating in the Song Story Challenge!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

A rare moment when Solo is down, Illya can appreciate that Napoleon is better off going to sleep. If IIlya stayed they might end up talking. Sometimes things are better left alone and unsaid.

Glad you liked the story. You've been posting some tougher challenges...well, at least to me. lol "D

PS love when a story inspires, even if it is to go look for that bottle of Jameson. Mmmmm. :D

[alynwa.livejournal.com]

I've been getting a bit more writing done lately. I wrote the Short Affairs and Picfic challenges on the days they were due. I've been working on a long MFU story and a long The Blacklist story and I wrote a Boston Legal story, too. I haven't been this inspired for awhile.

Have you looked at the September Song Story Challenge yet?

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Yes I saw you're been jumping in more on the challenges. Glad to see you doing that and being inspired again!

I saw the challenge yes. Thinking and scratching my head. lol.