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section7mfuWhat_If? What if Clara had decided to ditch her husband and go back to New York with Napoleon?
Napoleon’s Heart
Illya Kuryakin looked sideways at his partner, as they stood side by side on the roof of the UNCLE building, each cradling a mug of coffee and eating a raspberry doughnut.
“So, my friend, what are you going to do?”
Napoleon shrugged. Clara had been `with’ her husband, even in the boat whilst she had been physically cuffed to Napoleon, she had been cradling her husband in her arms. Then what had happened? She had turned up at the last moment and joined the two men on their plane journey back to the U.S.
“I’ve left him. I love him still, but I love you more, and I lost you once. I’m not losing you a second time.” Was all she had said at the time. What she may have said to Napoleon in addition to that when alone, Illya couldn’t say.
Napoleon was a man for the ladies, that was no secret; but Illya had not seen his partner quite like this before. He seemed at once gloriously happy, and terribly depressed, and it was clear by the pile of un-signed forms waiting for him in their office, that his mind was in a whirl and his emotions in a turmoil.
When he had first met Clara, Illya had been impressed with her focus, her determination to help her friends; but there his regard ended. She was not his type at all, either in appearance or in demeanour. She was not a woman he would have picked out to be Napoleon’s type either, but it was very clear that Napoleon was still very much in love with her. The more so since she was now, apparently, available.
They had returned from Terbuf three weeks ago, and Clara had already started proceedings for divorcing her husband. She had taken a small studio apartment a block away from Illya’s, and she and Napoleon were spending a great deal of their time together. Illya could not help but be concerned, and wondered if his friend was thinking with his loins or with his intellect. To say so in so many words, he had decided, would be a big mistake. Illya felt constricted by the fact that if Napoleon decided to go ahead and marry Clara, he would be forced to retire from the field, and Illya would lose his partner. How could he point out the potential hazards without it seeming like so many sour grapes? Was his dislike of this woman due to his own jealousy? The possibility that she could be the one to rip apart the partnership of Solo and Kuryakin, especially when so many THRUSH plots had failed to do just that?
Why could he not just be happy for Napoleon?
Feeling himself torn, Illya opted to keep his own counsel. Napoleon had not asked for his input, and he would not offer it. He finished his doughnut with a flourish, licking his fingers then swallowed the last of his coffee. He took a step back.
“I’ll be getting back inside. I have some work to finish up in the lab.” He said. Napoleon grabbed his elbow before he could move.
“Illya, tell me I am doing the right thing.”
A line appeared between the Russian’s eyes.
“You have made a decision then?”
“Yes!” a pause, then “No…Oh, I don’t know, Illya.”
Illya turned turned to face his friend.
“Napoleon, I cannot tell you what to do. You are a man of honour, correct? I do not see you to be a man to walk away from a decision because he realizes it was a mistake. Clara may be able to divorce her husband on a whim, but you are not. If you marry her, then you must be certain that it is what you want.”
Napoleon looked frustrated.
“I know that Illya. I know it already. I love her, and I do want to marry her, but I don’t want to lose you.”
“Napoleon, I will always be your friend. How could you lose me?”
In reality, though, Illya knew exactly what his partner was referring to, but was determined not to allow either of them to use their close partnership as an excuse for anything. If Napoleon were to reject Clara now, on the basis of his partnership with Illya, and then later regretted it, he would blame Illya. Maybe not aloud, but it would eventually come between them. No, Illya was determined that whatever decision Napoleon made, he would make it on his own.
Napoleon looked back across the city.
“She has given up her whole life for me, Illya. How can I tell her “No” now? Illya, I need your clear thinking. I’m lost in a maze here.”
Illya sighed.
“Napoleon, this decision will affect your whole life. What will happen to you, to our friendship if you make a decision you later regret based on my counsel?”
“You can point out the hazards to me, Illya. I can’t see any, but I know that there must be some. I have come to rely on your ability to anticipate every possibility. I need you for that. You’re the only one who will tell me the exact truth as he sees it. That is what I need, my friend.”
Illya closed his eyes in resignation.
“Are you certain you want my perspective on this?”
Napoleon nodded. Illya breathed deeply and looked his friend in the eye.
“Very well Napoleon. Ignoring personal issues which are likely to prove distracting, this is what I see. First, she tells you she is in love with you and wants to marry you. You love her just as much, but you chose instead to dedicate your life to fighting evil and corruption, and THRUSH, in particular. You chose UNCLE. Clara was forced to accept that for you, UNCLE came first. That was why she eventually left and married her husband.”
Napoleon nodded, listening intently. Illya thought, arranging his words as carefully as he could.
“Very well. As I see it you need to ask yourself a few basic questions. One: Clara knows that your primary focus has always been UNCLE. It was before, and at least until your paths crossed again, it was still. Why do you think she feels that your convictions will have changed in the last few years? Will you be happy living the life she will have you live? The second thing my friend, and I am sorry to have to point it out to you, but if she was willing to just walk out on her marriage to be with you, what gives you the confidence she would not walk out on you when she meets someone else?”
Napoleon looked glum.
“Can you see any positives, Illya?”
Illya raised an eyebrow.
“For you, yes. But you don’t need me to point those out. It is a tough decision, Napoleon, but one only you can make. Only you know how you feel about her, how much you trust her…and I do trust your judgment, my friend.”
“Do you like her, Illya?”
Illya did not reply, but the look in his eyes told Napoleon more than he knew. Illya made to walk away and paused.
“Napoleon, I think your main problem is the feeling that you have to make a choice between us. Her or me, right?”
Napoleon dropped his eyes. That was it in a nutshell. Illya’s hand rested on his shoulder briefly, and he looked up at a pair of eyes as blue as the summer sky.
“Napoleon, you decide how much you love her, and make the right decision for you. I give you my word that you will never lose me. Ever.”
The blond hair glinted in the sun and the blue eyes that so often bore through one like gimlets softened, and Illya flashed a brief smile, and walked away.
Napoleon watched his amazing partner as he disappeared inside, and long after Illya had disappeared, Napoleon’s eyes stayed focused at the place they had seen him last.
Despite what Illya had said, it really did boil down to who he loved the most. To marry Clara would mean leaving Illya in the field without a partner, or with someone else. Someone less experienced. And let’s face it, Illya took quite some looking after. Could he live with himself to see his best friend die because he wasn’t there to rescue him?
He thought of last night, the love in Clara’s eyes as she had gazed at him, the emotions no longer hidden beneath a veil of duty. She had loved her husband, but not like this. This was deep, true love, rather than the love of friendship and respect that she had had for him. Which was stronger? Truth to tell, when Napoleon arrived home after a mission, the times when Illya was not there, he was lonely. He would look around at his empty apartment, and he knew that deep down, he was lonely. He needed something…someone. This would not be an easy choice to make.
Napoleon rested his elbows on the wall, resting his chin on his arms and gazed thoughtfully across the city. Searching his heart, trying to make a choice. The right choice. The choice he would be able to live with.
Finally, as the sun started to sink, huge and red below the horizon, Napoleon made his choice. He turned and headed for the stairwell, and his office. Illya should still be there…
Napoleon’s Heart
Illya Kuryakin looked sideways at his partner, as they stood side by side on the roof of the UNCLE building, each cradling a mug of coffee and eating a raspberry doughnut.
“So, my friend, what are you going to do?”
Napoleon shrugged. Clara had been `with’ her husband, even in the boat whilst she had been physically cuffed to Napoleon, she had been cradling her husband in her arms. Then what had happened? She had turned up at the last moment and joined the two men on their plane journey back to the U.S.
“I’ve left him. I love him still, but I love you more, and I lost you once. I’m not losing you a second time.” Was all she had said at the time. What she may have said to Napoleon in addition to that when alone, Illya couldn’t say.
Napoleon was a man for the ladies, that was no secret; but Illya had not seen his partner quite like this before. He seemed at once gloriously happy, and terribly depressed, and it was clear by the pile of un-signed forms waiting for him in their office, that his mind was in a whirl and his emotions in a turmoil.
When he had first met Clara, Illya had been impressed with her focus, her determination to help her friends; but there his regard ended. She was not his type at all, either in appearance or in demeanour. She was not a woman he would have picked out to be Napoleon’s type either, but it was very clear that Napoleon was still very much in love with her. The more so since she was now, apparently, available.
They had returned from Terbuf three weeks ago, and Clara had already started proceedings for divorcing her husband. She had taken a small studio apartment a block away from Illya’s, and she and Napoleon were spending a great deal of their time together. Illya could not help but be concerned, and wondered if his friend was thinking with his loins or with his intellect. To say so in so many words, he had decided, would be a big mistake. Illya felt constricted by the fact that if Napoleon decided to go ahead and marry Clara, he would be forced to retire from the field, and Illya would lose his partner. How could he point out the potential hazards without it seeming like so many sour grapes? Was his dislike of this woman due to his own jealousy? The possibility that she could be the one to rip apart the partnership of Solo and Kuryakin, especially when so many THRUSH plots had failed to do just that?
Why could he not just be happy for Napoleon?
Feeling himself torn, Illya opted to keep his own counsel. Napoleon had not asked for his input, and he would not offer it. He finished his doughnut with a flourish, licking his fingers then swallowed the last of his coffee. He took a step back.
“I’ll be getting back inside. I have some work to finish up in the lab.” He said. Napoleon grabbed his elbow before he could move.
“Illya, tell me I am doing the right thing.”
A line appeared between the Russian’s eyes.
“You have made a decision then?”
“Yes!” a pause, then “No…Oh, I don’t know, Illya.”
Illya turned turned to face his friend.
“Napoleon, I cannot tell you what to do. You are a man of honour, correct? I do not see you to be a man to walk away from a decision because he realizes it was a mistake. Clara may be able to divorce her husband on a whim, but you are not. If you marry her, then you must be certain that it is what you want.”
Napoleon looked frustrated.
“I know that Illya. I know it already. I love her, and I do want to marry her, but I don’t want to lose you.”
“Napoleon, I will always be your friend. How could you lose me?”
In reality, though, Illya knew exactly what his partner was referring to, but was determined not to allow either of them to use their close partnership as an excuse for anything. If Napoleon were to reject Clara now, on the basis of his partnership with Illya, and then later regretted it, he would blame Illya. Maybe not aloud, but it would eventually come between them. No, Illya was determined that whatever decision Napoleon made, he would make it on his own.
Napoleon looked back across the city.
“She has given up her whole life for me, Illya. How can I tell her “No” now? Illya, I need your clear thinking. I’m lost in a maze here.”
Illya sighed.
“Napoleon, this decision will affect your whole life. What will happen to you, to our friendship if you make a decision you later regret based on my counsel?”
“You can point out the hazards to me, Illya. I can’t see any, but I know that there must be some. I have come to rely on your ability to anticipate every possibility. I need you for that. You’re the only one who will tell me the exact truth as he sees it. That is what I need, my friend.”
Illya closed his eyes in resignation.
“Are you certain you want my perspective on this?”
Napoleon nodded. Illya breathed deeply and looked his friend in the eye.
“Very well Napoleon. Ignoring personal issues which are likely to prove distracting, this is what I see. First, she tells you she is in love with you and wants to marry you. You love her just as much, but you chose instead to dedicate your life to fighting evil and corruption, and THRUSH, in particular. You chose UNCLE. Clara was forced to accept that for you, UNCLE came first. That was why she eventually left and married her husband.”
Napoleon nodded, listening intently. Illya thought, arranging his words as carefully as he could.
“Very well. As I see it you need to ask yourself a few basic questions. One: Clara knows that your primary focus has always been UNCLE. It was before, and at least until your paths crossed again, it was still. Why do you think she feels that your convictions will have changed in the last few years? Will you be happy living the life she will have you live? The second thing my friend, and I am sorry to have to point it out to you, but if she was willing to just walk out on her marriage to be with you, what gives you the confidence she would not walk out on you when she meets someone else?”
Napoleon looked glum.
“Can you see any positives, Illya?”
Illya raised an eyebrow.
“For you, yes. But you don’t need me to point those out. It is a tough decision, Napoleon, but one only you can make. Only you know how you feel about her, how much you trust her…and I do trust your judgment, my friend.”
“Do you like her, Illya?”
Illya did not reply, but the look in his eyes told Napoleon more than he knew. Illya made to walk away and paused.
“Napoleon, I think your main problem is the feeling that you have to make a choice between us. Her or me, right?”
Napoleon dropped his eyes. That was it in a nutshell. Illya’s hand rested on his shoulder briefly, and he looked up at a pair of eyes as blue as the summer sky.
“Napoleon, you decide how much you love her, and make the right decision for you. I give you my word that you will never lose me. Ever.”
The blond hair glinted in the sun and the blue eyes that so often bore through one like gimlets softened, and Illya flashed a brief smile, and walked away.
Napoleon watched his amazing partner as he disappeared inside, and long after Illya had disappeared, Napoleon’s eyes stayed focused at the place they had seen him last.
Despite what Illya had said, it really did boil down to who he loved the most. To marry Clara would mean leaving Illya in the field without a partner, or with someone else. Someone less experienced. And let’s face it, Illya took quite some looking after. Could he live with himself to see his best friend die because he wasn’t there to rescue him?
He thought of last night, the love in Clara’s eyes as she had gazed at him, the emotions no longer hidden beneath a veil of duty. She had loved her husband, but not like this. This was deep, true love, rather than the love of friendship and respect that she had had for him. Which was stronger? Truth to tell, when Napoleon arrived home after a mission, the times when Illya was not there, he was lonely. He would look around at his empty apartment, and he knew that deep down, he was lonely. He needed something…someone. This would not be an easy choice to make.
Napoleon rested his elbows on the wall, resting his chin on his arms and gazed thoughtfully across the city. Searching his heart, trying to make a choice. The right choice. The choice he would be able to live with.
Finally, as the sun started to sink, huge and red below the horizon, Napoleon made his choice. He turned and headed for the stairwell, and his office. Illya should still be there…
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