"Landslide" for PicFic Tuesday 9/20

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

A/N: This is my final chapter to the call and response story written by myself and alynwa.

:The prompt"

Illya Kuryakin sat alone on the roof of UNCLE Headquarters; he’d retreated there. The surprise birthday party that was sprung on him at lunch time yesterday in the gymnasium weighed heavily on his shoulders.

At first he was angry. He’d asked Napoleon not to do anything and had told the American time and again he did not celebrate his birthday. To Kuryakin it was just another day.

Why did they have to do it? He groaned in silence.

Illya held back his anger, as he could see the joy in the eyes of his fellow agents, the secretaries and so many people who worked there at headquarters. They wanted so badly to make him happy;  he nodded, thanked and went along with it, going through the motions.

While the music played he watched others dance, but waved the women off who asked him to join them on the gymnasium floor. He filled a plate of food from the buffet and ate, again nodding to everyone who gave him birthday wishes. He still had to go through those gifts he received.

He moaned, that would entail personal thank you’s to each and every person who’d given him something.

Before the end of the party he finally disappeared. He was good at that, at being invisible, that’s what Illya Kuryakin always did. His father's last words to him... papa told him to stay invisible.

Illya canted his head to the side, listening to the sound of footsteps in the gravel covered roof and knew instantly who it was.

“Yes Napoleon?”

“Why are you up here?” Solo pulled up a milk crate beside his partner.

“Thinking about yesterday. You know I am not the most sociable of people, and still you organized a party to celebrate my birthday, though I asked you not to. Why, may I ask, did you go against my wishes?”

“It wasn’t me. There were other conspirators who actually organized it without my knowledge initially. What could I do; I was outnumbered and had to go along with it.”

“Do not tell me...April, Wanda, Heather and the other ladies?”

“Oh a few more people than that. Dawn, Marian, Glenna, Adrienne, Linda; that’s the short list. Illya why won’t you tell me the reason you don’t like to celebrate your birthday?”

Kuryakin let out a long sigh, one of resignation. He supposed it was time to tell his partner. Though he was getting older, he was was afraid of change, afraid of revealing things.

It was perhaps time to climb that mountain, and turn around to look back. Would doing so create a landslide of pity from Napoleon? Illya handled the seasons of his life the same way year after year avoiding entanglements, friendships...maybe happiness, but was it was time to change how he did things?

Yes, with Napoleon it was. He began his tale with a sigh.

“The Nazis invaded Kyiv not long after my birthday. In the weeks that followed thousands died at their hands. I watched my mother and my baby twin brothers murdered by them. It is a sight I will never forget and a horror no child should have to ever witness. The last time I saw my mother smile was on my birthday. Without going into further detail, that was the last birthday I ever celebrated,” Illya spoke dispassionately, though Napoleon could see a sadness in his partner’s eyes.

“Birthdays are nothing of significance when people are in the middle of a war, or ...or in a prison camp or an orphanage. I know you are aware that I became a street orphan, a bespriorzi. In the orphanages, birthdays are meaningless until you turn sixteen, then you are shipped off into a life of servitude like my friend Natasha.* She was sent away on my birthday. I however, was lucky; I was sent to a school because I was intelligent which kept me from going to a farming collective. You see my birthday has represented nothing but sadness and the loss of my family and friends. That was why I have avoided it.”

“Illya I…”

“Let me finish Napoleon. In Soviet Union we were required to spy upon and turn in our loved ones and friends. That is why I stopped letting people into my life; I had no wish to send someone I cared for to the gulag or worse.  There were people with whom I was friendly, but they were not friends. “

Napoleon could see Illya was struggling with his words. “You don’t have to…”

“Yes I do. Until I was partnered with you, I had no true friend. Yet with you I let down my guard and opened the door. I permitted you inside. I trusted you as a partner and a friend, and now I trust you with some of my secrets.”

“Illya I’m now honored, but you have to realize you do have other friends here, and we’re family here at UNCLE. We can’t change your past, we can’t make the terrible things you’ve experienced go away, but tovarisch you can’t let them bring you down. You’re older, you have a good life here and and important job. You’re surrounded by people who care about you, and I know deep down inside you care about them too, like April and Mark, and George Dennell, to name a few.”

Illya continued staring out from the rooftop, looking out at the twinkling lights of the city.

“Tovarisch, your past is your past; chapters in the book that is your life. You’re writing new chapters now, good chapters. It’s time to close out those old one. Time to embrace the positive. You’re not going back to your old life, that I promise tovarisch...no, moy brat. Do you understand me?  Yesterday was your day, your future... not your past.”

Kuryakin looked like he was near to tears. He stood as did Solo and they grabbed each other in a bear hug.

“Thank you Napoleon,” Illya whispered in his ear.

As they separated the Russian wiped his eyes with his fingers.

“Now come on buddy, I have it on good authority that there’s leftover birthday cake in the walk in fridge in the Commissary. Oh and here,  I did get you a present, even though every year you tell me not to. I just decided not to give it to you yesterday at the party. Don’t be mad at me for wanting to get my partner a gift...remember last year I gave it to you as an ‘un-birthday’ gift. Try to think of it as that."

Solo held out a small foil wrapped box. “Go ahead and open it now. We’ll keep it private just between you and me.”

Illya wouldn’t lie, he liked getting his birthday gift from his partner, and secretly he hoped Napoleon would have one for him. He never had anyone do such a thing for him and in turn having the American as a friend gave him the opportunity to share in this gift giving thing of birthdays and the Christmas holiday.

Illya tore the silver paper and opened the small black velvet box. He opened it and inside it was a gold tie tack, a disc engraved with his initials, INK.

Set in it was brilliant blue star sapphire, the same kind of stone in Napoleon’s own pinky ring. It was obvious Solo had it custom made for him.

“Thank you Napoleon, it is beautiful and I will cherish it.”

“Glad you like it tovarisch, one word of advice; just don’t wear it while on assignment,” Napoleon winked.

“Sage advice my friend.” Illya snapped the box closed and tuck it into his jacket pocket.

“Okay tovarisch, I do believe there’s that birthday cake waiting for us downstairs.”

“Is there any honey cake left” Illya finally smiled.

“Absolutely,” Napoleon grinned.

* ref to my stories: “Beginnings, The Orphanage” and White Nights” under Mlaw on FF.net

Comments

[alynwa.livejournal.com]

Amazing! And great minds truly do think alike. I just finished writing my picfic and I published it all on AO3. I hadn't read your ending until just now. Read mine and you'll see what I mean.

We done good, Kid!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thanks and the same to you my friend!