For the Song Story Challenge: "Yes"

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Note: this was a song and a group I'd never heard or heard of, so my response to the prompt was a little 'different' from what I would normally have expected to write. Hope you like it...

               

He sat alone, listening to the rare silence in his conference room. Alexander Waverly sighed at such an unusual respite.

There were no blinking lights on his console, no pending disasters, threats to the world, no communications... nothing.

He rose from his chair, taking his Briar pipe in hand and striking a match, he touched it to the bowl.  Puffing away on the mouthpiece until the tobacco began to burn; it masked the odor of sulpher from the match.

Tonight he opted to forego his private blend, Isle of Dogs no. 22... he was trying another brand for a change of pace, one given to him as a gift by his Russian agent. It was a Turkish blend, a spicey tobacco known for a nutty, somewhat "sweet and sour" flavor.

He chuckled to himself; no doubt there was an ulterior motive to Kuryakin’s generosity, as this brand would not make the agent sneeze...

Waverly puffed on the mouth piece, blowing smoke rings into the air and for once just feeling leisurely. The flavor was rather enjoyable, or was it the peace that accompanied it?

Looking out his window into the night, staring beyond the glow of the city, he gazed at the sky.  Suddenly there was a shooting star and he watched as it blazed across the darkness; sparkling for just a brief moment before it fizzled and died.

That suddenly made him feel just a little old and tired, like the star he would eventually fade and die too...

He suddenly yeared for a little gentleness in his life, one that was not filled with the intricacies in intrigue of the shadowed covert world. There was no black or white there, only varying shades grey and truths hidden in mist.

"Was there anything that was truly real in this business he’d gotten himself into so long ago?” Alexander sighed, as it was a question he rarely asked himself. He knew what the Command meant amongst all the smoke and mirrors.

He continued smoking his pipe, driving those things from his mind until his thoughts slowly drifted to his beloved Estelle, his wonderful forgiving wife. How he managed to have a family and children with her, he’d never know. She was a saint for putting up with him, but was his rock, a woman filled with passion...which the old gal used to kept him in line. He chuckled at that thought.

She tolerated so much, yet possessed a gentleness of spirit and a heart of gold. Estelle was perhaps the strongest person he’d ever known.

The Continental Chief looked at his watch, noting the time. It was only two in the morning, not a late night for him. Keeping such hours; he could see why his people thought he never slept.

Perhaps he’d go home for once and surprise his wife.  She would be pleased to see him, as he would be to see her. There was always that delight between them, like two people who’d been separated for a terribly long time, though sometimes it truly felt like that.

Alexander Waverly found he was yearning to see her...feel her gentleness and love.  He wasn’t as young as he used to be, and yet he knew he suddenly needed his best girl. Yes...’Just be gentle, be gentle, be gentle, and I'll be gentle, be gentle, be gentle, be gentle with you,’ he thought of her.

A quote from her favorite poem by Joyce came to mind, one she’d come to admire when they were but young lovers…it seemed like only yesterday.

“ I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.”

He picked up his microphone, flicking a switch on his console.
“Yes Mr. Waverly sir?”

“My towncar please. I’ll be going home.”

“Right away sir.”

Comments

[reapermum.livejournal.com]

Oh, I do like that. Such a gentle reflective mood, it's worked out well.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thanks so much! It's rare that I become inspired to write about Mr. Waverly. Under that sly sometimes brusk demeanor I think beats the heart of a very gentle and romantic man.

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

Thanks for sharing tthat Waverly moment. Referring to your comment, I do think he's likely to be romantic (deep down), yes.

And I like Illya's giving him un-anti-Illya tobacco, too.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you and yes, of cours yes, no doubt it would be yes, yes. (chuckle) I thought the Joyce poem (which is pretty intense) would be perfect to sort of wind him up thinking of his wife.

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

I'd say that prompt worked into something very good. The unfamiliar pushed you into something you don't normally do, and it's lovely.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Definitely, though it took me a while to wrap my head around it. Thanks commenting and for a different sort of prompt.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

After rereading this piece I am getting happier with it. It tied into the prompt, yet diverged from it. I think I enjoy writing this more than I first thought. Though it was completely unintentional, it also worked out rather nice for Valentine's weekend. (I'd completely forgotten about that)

[alynwa.livejournal.com]

What a lovely, lovely sentiment! I love the way you wrote Waverly's thoughts about his wife. And I also loved this line: The Continental Chief looked at his watch, noting the time. It was only two in the morning, not a late night for him. It made me think Good Grief, what's a late night then?

Good job!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Three or four in the morning....depending on what disaster is taking place I would imagine. I think Waverly must have private quarters there at headquarters, keeping such late hours. And I imagined him not seeing his wife for days at a time. Perhaps getting home to spend a Sunday with her. So getting home in the wee hours instead of staying at HQ might be a surprise for her.

The more I read this piece the more I like it. Not easy to capture Waverly in such a personal moment as he's the 'boss' the man moving the chess pieces with eyes in the back of his head. He seems almost superhuman, compared to Napoleon and Illya.

Thanks so much for reading and your great comments. Appreciate it!

[carabele.livejournal.com]

A very sweet vignette showing a very personal side of Alexander Waverly.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thanks! Not sure why Waverly came to mind with this promt, but after the fact I was pleased at how it came out. Not too many fics out there about him, espeically introspective/romantic ones. When I wrote this, I'd completely forgotten about Valentine's Day but it worked out rather well for it in the long run.

Thanks for commenting!