section7mfu | Napoleon and the Two Turkeys

It wasn’t often that Napoleon Solo was left speechless by the sight of another man, but he stood now with his mouth gaping open as he looked unbelievingly at two Kuryakins; there were no words to convey his astonishment.

“Look at this, my partner is dumbfounded by the sight of us.” Illya Kuryakin smiled an uncharacteristically wicked grin as he stood side by side with his twin brother Leonid Nikovitch Kuryakin.

“Da, brother of mine, I have heard of these rude Americans. How have you endured it all of these years?” Illya cut his eyes at the remark, regretful that Napoleon should hear it and possibly be offended. Leonid was a bumpkin, no doubt of that.

“Leonid, Napoleon Solo is a brilliant and good man; he is my brother as surely as you are, perhaps more so since I have not seen you since our dacha burned to the ground when we were but boys.” Leonid nodded his understanding. He was not as worldly as his handsome older brother… older by only ten minutes but still, he deserved respect.

“You are wise beyond our years, Illya Nikovitch. I only wish that the years between that tragedy and now had not been filled with the isolation I endured. I thought you dead and now…” Tears filled the eyes of both men as they embraced, kissing cheeks with the affection of brothers long lost and now, thankfully, reunited.

Napoleon watched in amazement, still unable to find anything to say that would add to the moment. The question now was what to do with this second Kuryakin. Finally, gingerly, Solo spoke.

“Leonid, I am … so happy for you both. I can’t begin to imagine what life must have been like for you without your family… your brother. Now, looking at you I’m wondering, um… what are your plans? If THRUSH were to find out about you …” He didn’t finish that thought. Illya looked stricken by the realization that his brother was truly a target, that their reunion might be short-lived. Leonid would need to be protected from THRUSH.

“What is this THRUSH? Illyusha, why do you look ill? Are you all right?” Leonid was concerned as he watched his brother exchange worried looks with Napoleon. The CEA was hard pressed to come up with a brilliant strategy for this situation.

Illya’s brow was furrowed like rows in a garden, the seeds of intrigue in need of fertile ground. Surely there was a way to overcome this obstacle in the brothers’ path.

“What if Leonid were to come to work for UNCLE? He has the same acumen as I, the same cat-like agility and deftness of hand.” Illya was lit up with enthusiasm as he proclaimed the attributes he shared with his brother.

“Really? Cat-like agility?” Napoleon knew it was true, but sometimes that Russian ego was a little annoying, even to him.

“Yes, it is amazing I know.” Now there were two of them grinning like hyenas, and Napoleon had a feeling a partnership with three people in it might not be his idea of a good thing.

“Look, Illya… Leonid… (sigh) … I’m not really sure that this is a good idea. I mean, what are you suggesting, Illya? That both of you go out on missions … and do what exactly?”

That caused the twin Kuryakins to both raise their eyebrows in an expression Napoleon knew only too well. Great, now there were two sets of blue eyes looking vulnerable and innocent, aimed at him.

“Okay… look you two, this is UNCLE. We have jobs to do, and villains to vanquish. Leonid can’t just join and be on the payroll. If he is interested in being an agent he needs to go to Survival School, but first he must be recruited.” Now Solo was feeling exasperated. Illya knew all of this, so why was it necessary to make this speech?

“Napoleon, you seem distressed. I apologize for our insensitive behavior, but you must understand that we are as stunned by this development as you are. No, we are more overwhelmed than you can imagine. I have lived my life without any knowledge of my brother, no memory of him. And yet, here he stands and we are as one man. Should THRUSH discover his identity, he will be in danger, perhaps hunted. His only means of protection now is to be a part of this organization, and at my side. I will not lose him a second time.”

Napoleon was moved by Illya’s earnest speech, and Leonid embraced his brother once again. There was nothing to be done for it.

“All right. I suppose the first order of business then is to take this to Mr. Waverly; he’ll tell us what comes next.” Napoleon extended a hand to Leonid, willing to accept what was seemingly inevitable.

“I guess now it’s all for one and one for all…’ He looked from one blond to the other, still disbelieving that he’d have to deal with not just one but two smart Russians.

“Three muskateers, comrades.”

“Da, three muskateers!” Two voices joined in unison.

Napoleon woke with a start, his heart pounding as he groped for the light on his nightstand. It was just a dream. Only one Russian, no twins or brothers or … muskateers.

“I ate too much turkey. I’m never letting Illya cook Thanksgiving dinner again, no telling what he put in that bird.” Napoleon was talking to himself in hushed tones, as though someone might be listening. He was home, safe and alone. Then he remembered.

It wasn’t the bird, but it was Turkey; Wild Turkey … Kentucky straight bourbon, and more than just a little nightcap. On a hunch that he wasn’t the only one sleeping it off, Napoleon decided to venture out to the living room.

Illya was sprawled on the sofa, face down and snoring contentedly. The bottle of bourbon was empty on the table.

That was good enough to satisfy the groggy spy. Napoleon stumbled back towards his bedroom, unconcerned that his partner would have a stiff neck in the morning. Sleep was all that mattered now. No more dreams, no more turkey.

Thanksgiving had been a success in spite of Illya’s insistence on borscht as a first course. Actually, it was quite good. Napoleon felt honored that his Russian friend had embraced this uniquely American holiday; and although the second turkey, the equally American bourbon, would leave its mark the two friends had certainly established that spirit of bon ami. Napoleon turned back and looked again at his slumbering friend, glad once more for a partner he could call both friend and brother.

“Thanks Illya.”
“Ne za chto” Smiling at the mumbled response, Napoleon found his way back to bed and into a dreamless sleep.

And they both slept the sleep of the … well, they slept, and in the morning it was aspirin and coffee all around.