section7mfu | "Only love can break your heart"~ for PICFIC Tuesday 5/27 (Reply)

Napoleon Solo lay under the silk sheets, staring up at the woman who was on top of him; her long luxurious brunette hair cascading down to caress his naked chest.

Joanna Winthrop, as wild a vixen both in and out of bed; he’d never met anyone quite like this woman and even his paramour Angelique couldn’t hold a candle to this gorgeous creature.

There was more to her. She was not only sexy but smart, clever and she made him smile and laugh a like a kid...that hadn’t happened well, since Clara was in his life. When he was with Joanna, she made him forget all his troubles. There were few people who could do that to him in earnest...

She took a white silk scarf, tying it around one of his wrists…

“Do you trust me my love?” She whispered to him.

“With my life.” There was only one other person in the world to whom he had uttered those words.

Joanna wrapped his other wrist in the scarf as she tied it off to the wrought iron headboard, taking control of their lovemaking and Solo uncharacteristically surrendered to her…

After their marathon session was over, they showered together and dressed, readying their suitcases for their return trip. The fantasy was almost over for now.

“I’ll head over to the train station to make sure the Pullman arrangements are all set.” he said, giving her a peck on the cheek. Though they were returning to New York after their glorious New Orleans vacation, their time together wouldn’t be at an end. Joanna lived in Queens and they’d see each other again. It was time to take their relationship to a new level, or so Solo thought.

Napoleon had fallen for her and hard. He’d professed his love to Joanna though he also confessed about his involvement with U.N.C.L.E. and explained the complications it would create in their lives. He’d done that once before with his Clara, but that turned into a disaster as she demanded he give up his job with the Command and he refused.

He took a big chance, telling Joanna his feelings, and she absorbed it all in silence; that seemed a good sign to him.

Their brief parting was sealed with an extremely passionate kiss as he readied to go to the train station.

“Hey I’m just going to…” His words were interrupted by Joanna’s embrace. “Keep doing that and we’ll miss our train,” he smiled, reluctantly pulling away from her.

He left, checking on the final arrangements and waited for the luggage and Joanna to arrive from the hotel. The sky had darkened and it looked like a storm was blowing in from the South...remnants of a tropical storm that had hit the Gulf.

He spotted an attendant with the cart from the hotel but something was amiss; only his suitcases were on it.

An envelope was taped to the outside of his large valise, with his name written in Joanna’s familiar handwriting, and he quickly opened it in confusion.

Dearest Napoleon,

I love you so much but I cannot live the life you have offered to me. To deal with your possible death day in and day out is just too much for me to bear. The thought of losing you in such a violent way is unthinkable. I can’t ask you to stop what you do; to give up your life for me wouldn’t be fair...just as you asking me to live this way wouldn’t be fair either.

I know this is a cowards way out; running off and not even saying goodbye to you in person, but I can’t face you. I know I’ll weaken to the power you have over me and that will be a mistake. My instincts tell me this is the best way. Better I lose you now and not know that you’ve been tortured and killed on some foreign soil.

I’m so so sorry to hurt you and I know I’m being selfish. I guess this is my way of preserving my sanity. You’ll get over me in time, as I will get over you. Life goes on and in your case I pray it will do so for a long time. Please don’t try to find me.

Take care of yourself,

Joanna

A raindrop fell on the paper, then a second one, and another. Of course the sky had to open up in a downpour at that exact moment, though helped to hide the tears trickling down the American’s cheeks.

He didn’t care that he was getting soaked as his world had come to a screeching halt. “Not again,” he whispered to himself.

Solo was a trained agent capable of making life and death decisions but he wasn’t without feelings. Right now they were very raw and the world seemed to be moving in slow motion.

Napoleon stood there out of sync but in reality everything was in a frenzy around him as people ran, trying to escape the torrential rainfall.

With his mouth agape in surprise, he finally bit his lower lip as he crumpled up the note, letting it drop to a puddle forming at his feet.

Stepping up to board the train; he turned one last time to scan the platform for her, hoping against hope she’d changed her mind, but there was no sign as it was nearly empty now.

In his heart he bid her au revoir et bonne chance. She had always liked it when he spoke French to her though this would be the last time he would do so, even though it was from afar.

At last, he walked inside the car, knowing he’d lost another woman because of the Command.

“Was it worth it Solo? He asked himself for the second time in his life and came up with the same answer…

“Yes.”

He’d devoted himself to U.N.C.L.E. and taken a solemn oath to it’s precepts. This agent believed in it and wouldn’t give it up for the sake of his personal desires; though there was one time in Algeria he almost did, to near disastrous and deadly results. *

Napoleon Solo knew he belonged to U.N.C.L.E. In fact, it was she who was his true mistress, the only love he might ever know until the day he died…

He sat in his private compartment, staring at the beds meant for two, and finally leaned his head against the window; looking out at the landscape but seeing nothing as he listening to the hypnotic clickety-clack of the wheels on the track.

Going to the dining car late in the afternoon; he was seated alone; ordered a Scotch on the rocks...a double and sat sipping it slowly.

“Hi, may I join you,” a shapely and petite blonde smiled at him. “Seems there’s limited seating for us singles...you are alone aren’t you?”

Napoleon smiled as only he could do. “Well we’re not alone now, please by all means, join me. My name is Solo, Napoleon Solo.” He rose helping her to seat her.

“Why aren’t you the gentleman? That’s such a rare quality now days. My name is Lolly Sweet.”

“Oh I bet you are.”

“You know that line never gets old with me for some reason? She smiled.

Napoleon waved for the waiter, getting his new companion a drink.

“Hmmm, perhaps the trip home wasn’t going to be that bad after all,” he thought, realizing destiny had sent him a pleasant distraction to temper his feelings about Joanna.

“What was that saying? It was like getting back on a horse after a fall…”

When his train arrived in New York City, there was a familiar blond head poking itself over the top of a copy of the Daily News as the man casually leaned against a steel support beam

“Ah yes,’New York’s picture newspaper,” Napoleon remarked as he stepped up to greet his partner,”I thought you only read the New York Times?”

“I like the photographs,” Illya tossed the paper in a nearby trash receptacle without a second thought. He looked around, noticing Solo was alone.

“Where is Joanna?”

“Long story for another time,” Napoleon nodded as he lifted his suitcases.

Illya grabbed one. “Come we have a car waiting for us and an assignment.”

“Already? I don’t even get time to unpack and freshen up?”

“You can do that after the briefing as Mr. Waverly wants you at headquarters immediately; you know, the usual megalomaniac trying to take over the world by nefarious means.”

Napoleon didn’t react to that statement and Illya noticed it immediately.

“Are you sure you are all right my friend?”

“As you like to say tovarisch, I’m fine...always fine.” There was no spark in the American’s voice.

In his heart Kuryakin knew that wasn’t the truth, but Napoleon seemed reticent to discuss the issue; perhaps later or not at all. Did it matter in the long run?

He kept his secrets from his American friend; so his partner should be allowed the same privilege.

Still, he knew Napoleon would eventually bare his soul and unburden himself of whatever had happened. Sometimes his partner needed saving from himself, but that would happen only when he was ready.

Illya Kuryakin would be there to pick up the pieces, as always…

* ref “Every rose has it’s thorns” http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/600812.html