He Was Compromised - Writer's Choice

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

This is one from way back, my first year of writing fanfiction.  It's a longer story and probably needs some editing, but I'm going to give it to you anyway, just as it posted back in 2010. He Was Compromised on ff.net
I hope you enjoy it.  Here's the opening ...

"You found me out, I see". Illya looked at his partner in that cool, unconfirmed manner of denial without explanation. He was unsure of the look on Napoleon's face; was it disappointment or something worse?

"Well, say something. I know you saw me there.' A pause of discomfort and a wave of anxiety passed through him as he waited for the dark eyes to blink or waiver...anything to break the silence.

"It isn't what you think". True. It only looked bad. In reality, the compromise was an illusion.
"Are you going to speak?" Now he was getting angry. Damn the circumstances and his nosey friend's need to have explanations given.
"I thought you trusted me." Now he wanted answers. The game worked both ways.

Napoleon sighed deeply, exhaling a breath that contained both the bounds of friendship and the frailty of it. He hadn't believed that Illya would be capable of betrayal on this level. His tovarisch, his pal...his partner.
"I apologize for that. I shouldn't have treated you like an assignment". But he had been an assignment. The agent had been sent after him, not his friend. Waverly had issued the order. And now, here they stood with the evidence of possible duplicity a barrier between them.
"Mr. Waverly asked me to follow you, to see who you were meeting. Illya, why were you there?" It was a question he had to ask. He wouldn't report back until he had an explanation. He owed his friend that much.

The blond head slanted back as the Russian ran his hands through the shaggy hair. He had choices to make, right now. He should just keep his mouth shut and follow orders. He didn't think he could. "Napoleon, do you trust me?' Simple question. No, not so simple. Layer upon layer. Death and life. Trust was the most difficult thing to grasp, and almost impossible to earn between the likes of them. Once broken, it was not easily repaired.

"Do you? What do you think you saw?" The blue eyes were no longer dispassionate. He was searching now, looking for a sign that his friend would yield once again to the trust and intimacy of their friendship, to the depths of what gave them the courage to go out time and again into the throes of an unyielding enemy. He had to trust him again.