Pressed, Not Shaken - What's My Line?

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

The Line: Between a rock and a hard place
~~~~~:

“There’s a woman on the phone, Mr. Solo.  She sounds mad.”  The handsome Chief Enforcement Agent of the Northwest Sector of the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement smiled at the messenger.  He must remember to ask her out for dinner.

“Mad?  Hopefully not at anyone I know.”  He winked at the young woman; Trish was her name.  Definitely dating material.

“Well, she asked for you.”  That last was a statement that carried a not too subtle message, and one that was immediately caught by Napoleon’s smirking  partner.

“Hmm... I wonder what you’ve done this time, Napoleon.”  Trish smiled at the blond.  She had thought the same thing and now considered how cute the Russian looked sitting behind his typewriter.  With a sigh that neither man caught she closed the door behind her as Napoleon picked up the phone to deal with the mystery woman.

“This is Napoleon Solo, how may I help you?”  A smooth voice should be the first step towards soothing whatever had ruffled this woman’s feathers.  Was she an agent from another office, a secretary whose work he had criticized?  For some reason it never occurred to him...

“Oh hello Napoleon.  How nice of you to finally call... Oh wait!  I’m calling you.”  There was ice clinking its way down the phone line as those words finally reached Napoleon’s ears.

“Oh hello Melissa.”  Napoleon mouthed her last name to Illya who was watching with amusement as his partner tried to evade this woman’s ire.

‘Duckworth... from that affair in London last year.’

Illya nodded in recognition of the woman’s name, and an image came to him of a tall brunette with green eyes and an opulent lifestyle.  Napoleon had wined and dined her for weeks while they searched out a THRUSH operation on Saville Row.  Their affair, Napoleon’s and Melissa’s that is, had ended when he returned to New York.  Was Napoleon supposed to continue the relationship?

“But Melissa my sweet, you were every bit the woman of my dreams, and sometimes that is all we have after an affair... the dream.”  From the look on Napoleon’s face, Illya surmised that the line of reasoning being offered was not going well.  In addition to her personal wealth, Melissa Duckworth was the daughter of a leading member of Parliament, a personal friend of the PM and in the Queen’s court was referred to as  Lady Duckworth.  People didn’t usually have casual romances with Lady Duckworth.

“I don’t recall asking... But you surely didn’t think ... Melissa, you can’t possibly expect ...”  After a very long silence on Napoleon’s end he finally had something that brought her tirade to an end.

“Melissa, my service to this organization does not allow for marriage.  If I gave you any other impression then I am very sorry and you must know that were it any other way I would be honored... um... well, we would have a very different future.”

Illya noted the change in his friend’s expression, the drain of color from his face.  It was one of those ‘worst case scenarios’ where Napoleon’s romantic escapades sometimes landed.  The Russian began to mentally assemble a list of the times Solo had almost gotten married... against his will.

“Yes, yes... I am  profoundly grateful that you understand.... Oh, well perhaps understand is too generous.... Thank you for not taking this any higher, I really doubt it would have done any ... Oh?  Oh... Well in that case, please thank the Queen for not ... Oh?  She did?”  Now Napoleon’s face was flushed, whether with anger or embarrassment, or something else, Illya couldn’t quite decipher.  He considered the possibility that it might be wise to escort his partner to Medical and have his blood pressure checked.

Another line started blinking on the telephone.

“Melissa darling ... yes, I will try to remember that.  Melissa, I must go.  I have a call from my superior and ... Oh?  Oh... Please don’t think me a cad, I honestly did not have any intention of hurting you.  I treasure our time together, I... All right then, goodbye.”

Napoleon took a deep breath and punched the flashing button on his telephone.

“Yes sir, what can I ...?  Oh? Oh... well then, I will be right there.  Thank you sir.”

Illya was beyond his usual mischief concerning these types of situations.  Napoleon looked genuinely disturbed, and the call from Mr. Waverly seemed to be on the heels of the one from Melissa, which might mean...

“Did she call the authorities?”  And yet, he couldn’t quite help being flip about it.

Napoleon rolled his eyes and set his jaw in a typically Solo expression; shot his cuffs and straightened his tie.

“Yes Illya, she called the authorities, such as they are.  The Queen phoned Mr. Waverly, it seems, and suggested that his agents not take liberties with her people while working in London.’ He shot a look at his partner that belied the devil may care personna.

“I never said anything about marrying her, Illya.  How do women get these crazy notions about me?”  Kuryakin sighed.  How was it that this casanova had so little wisdom concerning the mind of a woman.  Napoleon had learned how to satisfy them physically, but he sometimes failed to remember that many women still only embarked on an intimate relationship in the hopes of a more permanent one; even someone like Lady Melissa Duckworth.

“Your position is a tentative one, my friend.  I fear that you may one day be  pummeled by a rockslide of feminine retribution should you continue on this path of indiscriminate lovemaking.  It is not a sport, Napoleon; people’s hearts are fragile things.  Even yours.”

That little speech gave Napoleon something to think about, but not for long.  Mr. Waverly intended to have his say, and the reluctant agent turned towards the door and certain verbal retribution for his dalliance with a friend of the Queen of England.  What a combination: Mr. Waverly and the Queen.  Talk about a rock and a hard place.

“You’re probably right, Illya.  But when a beautiful woman presents herself to me and asks for nothing more than a memorable evening, well... ‘ He shook his head.  He understood, but he didn’t.  Napoleon Solo had made it a journey of sorts to be as free as possible within the constraints of a life that had stringent limitations.  If getting a lecture from the Old Man was the worst he had to endure, then... C’est la vie.

“Don’t expect me to change, tovarisch.  Some things are just wired into a person, and I love women and I enjoy fulfilling their fantasies.  It’s my calling.” With a wink and that Solo smile, everything was suddenly back to normal.  Illya watched him as he exited the office and wondered just how long a man could play that game before his own heart became the victim.

Perhaps it already was.

Comments

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

He's bound to get hurt with his attitude towards women. Queen Elizabeth knows Mr.Waverly? Come on. Glenna! There's another story there. This one was pretty terrific!

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Mr. Waverly knows everyone ;) Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed my little Solo moment.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

I'm with Lindafishes....Waverly and the Queen? Definitely a story there of major proportions!

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Hmm... yeah, you may be right.