Saving the World One Person at a Time - Short Affair - Dec 2

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

Prompts - Law/Red
Word Count - 739

You can find the story below the cut, or you can follow the link to AO3.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21650932



It was still three weeks until Christmas but the city of New York was already looking festive. Everywhere was festooned with the lights, garlands, and decorations of the seasons. Even Illya Kuryakin was feeling cheered by the red-suited Santa Clauses which were appearing all over the city. It was something Napoleon couldn’t fail to notice as they strolled back to the office following a leisurely lunch.

“Could it be you’re warming to the festivities of Christmas?”

“I cannot deny it,” Illya replied. “Although I do not adhere to the religious side of it, I do enjoy the idea of celebrating friends and family.”

“And the presents?”

Illya was about to make a sarcastic reply when a young man crashed into him and ran off without a word. He would have brushed it off if he hadn’t felt the young man’s hand snaking into his jacket. A quick check told him what he already knew.

“He has my wallet!”

Both agents immediately took off after the thief.

The young man was surprised to find himself knocked to the ground, only two minutes later, by the man he had just robbed. He had chosen him as his victim because he looked slight, and unlikely to cause him any harm. The man with him hadn’t worried him either. In his experience, most men who dressed so immaculately weren’t a threat. He was finding out just how wrong he was.

“Don’t hurt me,” he squeaked, as Illya hauled him to his feet.

“Give it back!” the Russian snarled.

The thief instantly returned the wallet and, much to the agents’ surprise, he burst into tears. It was only then that Illya took a proper look at his attacker. He was pale and scrawny, and the filthy clothes he was wearing were at least three sizes too big. Illya could also feel him shaking, and he was certain it was from more than just fear. Illya looked to Napoleon, who was wearing a look of compassion.

“What’s your name and how old are you?” Napoleon asked.

“Tony,” the young replied, with a sob. “I’m sixteen.”

“Come with us,” Napoleon told him. “You look like you could use a sandwich.”

After relocating to the nearest diner, and buying Tony a decent meal, Illya asked him why he had stolen from him, and why they shouldn’t get the local law enforcement involved. Between mouthfuls, Tony explained that he had been living on the streets for four months, after his new stepfather threw him out of the family home. Since then he had been surviving on whatever food he could steal. His theft from Illya had been his first attempt at pickpocketing.

As Illya watched the way Tony was shovelling the food into his mouth, he was transported to a time, two decades previously, when he had been forced to survive on whatever he could steal. Their situations were different, but Illya could understand Tony’s desperation only too well.

“Are you going to hand me in?” Tony asked; his voice filled with fear.

“It’s up to you,” Napoleon said to Illya. “It was your wallet he took.”

Illya thought about it.

“Do you have a criminal record?” he asked.

Tony shook his head, which was enough to make up Illya’s mind. No matter what the country, as soon as someone entered the criminal justice system, they were more likely to continue down a nefarious path. Illya had the power and connections to set the youth on the right track.

“We can help you,” he said. “If you will let us.”

He and Napoleon explained to Tony what they who they were, and what they could do for him.

“Starting with a shower and a change of clothes,” Napoleon commented. “Give me a couple of minutes, and I’ll go and check in with the Old Man.”

By the end of the day Mr Waverly had arranged for an U.N.C.L.E. approved foster family to take Tony in. He had also found a school place and a part time-time job for him.

“You must be getting soft in your old age,” Napoleon commented to Illya later that evening.

“I know how it feels to live on the streets,” Illya replied. “Besides, is Christmas not the time for gifts? We have given the boy the gift of a future.”

Napoleon smiled. Their job was to save to world; even if it meant saving one person at a time.

.