section7mfu | Starting Over Again

Prompts: Vegetation, Yellow

Word count: 984

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Napoleon Solo was transfixed by the scenery surrounding him. He and Illya Kuryakin, of the U.N.C.L.E., were on mission in the Napa Valley region of Northern California, and the vista was one of vibrant yellow fields and blue skies overhead.

“This is truly beautiful, don’t you agree Illya?” The blond nodded his head, he was on his first journey to the West Coast of America, and so far the comparison to the other coast had left him pondering his preferences.

“This reminds me of France, which leads me to surmise that this field of mustard must have originated from Europe. Most probably the Franciscan monks who traveled north as they created El Camino Real, planted the mustard seeds to mark their journey.” Napoleon winced a little at the history lesson. His only intention here was to enjoy the view.

“Well, thanks for that professor.” He let the word slide out with emphasis. Illya missed it, or perhaps not.

“It’s Doctor actually. I, um… I have a doctorate.” It was not bragging, he simply felt that the correction might be appropriate.

“In what field, horticulture?” Napoleon knew perfectly well that Illya’s field of study was Quantum Mechanics. How he ended up as a field operative for UNCLE was still a bit of a mystery.

Illya cut his eyes to squint at the man he’d been partnered with for the past two months. They did work well together, but this American tried his patience and good will at times.

“I apologize, my intention was not to … well…” That made Napoleon’s jaw clench. He hadn’t wanted a partner, and he certainly hadn’t asked for a brainiac like Kuryakin. If they didn’t work so well together …

“None necessary, I was just giving you a hard time.”

“Why? Why do you feel the need to give me a hard time? Are we not in the field together, with the same goals and ambitions to help thwart the villainy and evil that threatens us all? Are we not allies?” His expression was earnest, his voice low and almost threatening. Napoleon looked more closely at the Russian, and then it hit him.

“Now you’re giving me a hard time!” Illya’s laugh resonated around the open space in which they stood. For some reason the people around Headquarters assumed him to be serious and stoically Soviet. Time would perhaps relieve them of that.

“Oh, your face was priceless. I’m sorry Napoleon, but sometimes it’s you who needs to, how do they say it… lighten up.” Napoleon made another face at that retort, but he had to admit that Illya had the last laugh on this one.

“Okay, okay. So, you’re not an expert on vegetation.” Illya’s eyebrows rose up slightly as he considered his response.

“Well…”

“Oh forget it. Let’s get back to San Francisco and make our report. Then we’ll go get something for dinner.” Illya slapped his partner on the back and walked beside him to their vehicle.

“Guy LeSeur did mention a place we might try, John’s Grill. It’s reportedly the best spot for casual but good meals, especially pork chops.” Illya was still enthrall of the opulence of the American table. He was very keen to try out this John’s Grill.”

Napoleon had to remember, just occasionally, that this man he was partnered with had endured genuine hardships in his life, and at a very young age. The freedom he was experiencing now, working for UNCLE and living in a country with so much within his reach, must seem like a fantasy at times. Not that life here was perfect, but neither was it anyplace else on earth.

“That sounds good to me Illya. We have a flight to catch tomorrow, let’s see what Frisco has to offer us tonight.”

The drive back into the city was no less scenic than the mustard fields they had left behind them. The mission was completed without harm to anyone, and the report on their findings would be quick.

San Francisco offered the men from UNCLE an excellent meal, a night traveling on trolley cars to the famous wharf, and a nightcap of boozy Irish coffee at the Buena Vista. It wasn’t surprising that Napoleon found two attractive stewardesses to share part of their evening, and Illya’s wealth of knowledge and language aided in thoroughly impressing the young women.

Although promises were made to meet again, the two spies knew it was unlikely. They bade the women good night and headed back to their room in the UNCLE dormitory, a fiscal answer to hotel bills while on the road. To their credit, the San Francisco version was well appointed and included two very comfortable full size beds.

“Napoleon, this has been a very enjoyable evening. Even your choice of, hmmm… companions, turned out to be quite acceptable.” It was true. Illya had thoroughly enjoyed the tour of San Francisco, and the girls had been fun, and not too forward. He appreciated that.

“We had a good time.' Napoleon felt a little silly for being pleased at Illya's response to the evening. He felt almost as though he had inherited a younger brother as much as a partner.

"So, you like this city?” Illya nodded, he did indeed. Never in a million years would he have envisioned himself living in America, much less enjoying it. Perhaps there was room in his Socialist heart for a little grace towards those who still thought of him as a threat. Like them, he had been taught things that he was now discovering to not be true. He hoped that someday, among his colleagues especially, what they thought of him would be based on knowing him, not thinking they knew about him.

“Good night Napoleon.”

“Night tovarisch.”

Illya fell asleep with a smile on his face.