The You Don't Have a Partner Affair - Chapter 8 - Spring Round Robin

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

Blond hair danced across his brow as he shook his head vehemently. “No, we should not. A partner is a liability I categorically refuse to take on.”

“You still prefer to fly solo, eh?”

Illya frowned in annoyance at the phrase. “Yes, sir. I work better alone.”

“Never-the-less my boy, I believe you would benefit from a partner,” Waverly insisted, “With us so close to reaching our victory over THRUSH, your workload has trebled, and I wouldn’t want you to burn out before you can reap the rewards.”

Illya’s frown deepened. Something felt off, but every time the reason floated near to his consciousness, it skittered away as he tried to grab it.

“Do you have someone in mind, Sir?” he asked, barely keeping the frustration from his voice.

“Indeed I do,” the Old Man replied. “Come to my office in half an hour and I’ll introduce you.”

Illya watched his boss walk away, and wondered who the agent could possibly be. Waverly had said he would ‘introduce’ him, which suggested someone new to the command. Although he felt unsure about this turn of events, Illya decided to keep it, and other worries, to himself. He had already told Mr Waverly that he’d accepted the ‘hallucination’ of Napoleon as an effect of the drugs he had been given, but this was a lie. He’d only said it in order to get out of medical quicker and avoid any entanglements with the psychiatrist.

Illya was determined to solve the mysteries of, not only Napoleon’s disappearance, but also of why no-one else remembered him. For this, he needed full access to everything, which he wouldn’t have if he were trapped in medical. Firstly though, Illya needed to meet the ‘partner’ Waverly had suddenly decide to spring on him.

............................................................................................

The woman who was claiming to be his wife did a very good job of distracting Napoleon for quite some time. She was exceptionally skilled in her love-making, and seemed to know just what to do to his body to get the right reactions. Whilst this lent credence to her claim of being his wife, there was still something deep in his mind which was urgently begging for begging for his attention.

Once they were both thoroughly spent, Napoleon waited for the woman to go to sleep before getting out of the bed and heading for the living room. He perched on the edge of the sofa and tried to sort out the muddle in his head.

The woman softly sleeping in the next room was someone he vaguely recognised, but Solo was certain she couldn’t be his wife. Whilst it wasn’t technically against U.N.C.L.E. policy, marriage was strongly discouraged for active agents. On top of that, Napoleon simply wasn’t the settling down type.

He searched the depths of memories in an attempt to at least find a name for the woman. Apart from anything else, if she was indeed his wife, he should know what to call her. However, try as he might, he couldn’t come up with anything, other than a disquieting sense of distrust. Something was telling him she was a dangerous woman.

Napoleon sighed deeply and shifted his thoughts to his other mystery. He had been told that there was no such person as Illya Kuryakin but, in the fog of his memory, he could remember the Russian quite clearly. They had endured and survived far too much together, and Napoleon could recall too many complex details for Illya to be a mere figment of his imagination.

“Where are you, Tovarisch?” he asked the empty room.

It turned out not to be empty.

“Who are you talking to, Darling?” came a female voice from behind him.

Napoleon stood up and turned to face his ‘wife’.

She was leaning languorously against the door frame, causing a stirring in Napoleon’s lust.

“Just trying to clear my head,” Solo answered.

The woman held out a hand, inviting him back to bed. Napoleon smiled wantonly, and accepted her invitation. He had many questions which needed answers and, for now, he would concentrate on finding out who the gorgeous platinum blonde really was.

............................................................................................

“Ah, Mr Kuryakin. Come in and meet your new partner.”

Illya shifted his gaze from his boss to the other man in the room. He was tall, dark-haired, and dark-eyed. He was wearing a shapeless, grey, off-the-peg suit, and no tie.

“This is Peter Flowers,” Waverly told him. “He’s been at the Melbourne HQ for seven years.”

The Russian kept his expression neutral, not wanting to alert either man to the alarm bells ringing in the back of his mind. Illya had spent two months in Melbourne less than a year previously, and he was absolutely certain there had been no Peter Flowers. Shaking the man’s hand, he welcomed him to the command.

“Excellent,” Waverly enthused, almost gleefully, causing another alarm bell to ring for Illya. “I’m sure I can leave it to you to show Mr Flowers around. As he is now effectively third in command, he will need a comprehensive security breakdown, including all the relative pass codes.”

Illya now knew his instincts were steering him right. The Alexander Waverly he knew wouldn’t issue such instruction without first giving Illya the opportunity to research Flowers for himself. He couldn’t yet begin to understand what was happening, but he was going to make it a priority to find out.

............................................................................................

Angelique watched with concern as the Russian weakly thrashed in his restraints. He seemed to be fighting against the psychotropic drugs but she couldn’t risk giving him anymore. She didn’t particularly want to disturb Dr Dabree, so decided to wait a little longer to see if he would settle down. Angelique sighed in frustration. The little runt was an irritation to her but, unfortunately, one she’d had to accept. Napoleon was too much fun so, in order to spend time with him, she was forced to put up with Kuryakin hovering around somewhere in the background; though hopefully not literally.

She turned back to her part-time lover. There was a slight smile on his face which suggested he was enjoying whatever vision he was imagining. The smile made Angelique’s heart quicken, but she hastily suppressed those thoughts. It was a shame to have to put him through all this but, at the end of the day she was Thrush, and he was U.N.C.L.E. Contrary to what many of colleagues believed, she was quite willing to sacrifice Napoleon to achieve their aims. The wonderful plan that Dr Dabree had concocted was complex but, with Angelique’s help, Napoleon and his gloomy partner would be the key to the Hierarchy’s ultimate victory.

Maybe, when their part in the plan was over, she would be allowed to keep the beautiful brunet.

.

Comments

[gevr.livejournal.com]

This is a great start to round two ! Well done !!

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much :-)