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section7mfuIf you've not read any of my Vanya series, this is a link to what has come before. It is on AO3.
House of Vanya
:~~~~~:~~~~~:~~~~~:~~~~~:~~~~~:
Somewhere in New York City, 1990...
He hadn't meant to intrude on what looked like a private moment, but the sight of her stopped him in his tracks. In so doing he caused the person who had been following too closely behind him to bump and then stumble; Illya Kuryakin responded with an automatic lightening response, catching the girl before she landed on all fours.
This series of events caught the eye of the pretty woman with the auburn hair.
She was sitting at a table by the window, the sunlight working like an irridescent shower as it washed over April Dancer's still vibrant hair. The young man who sat across from her had a similar shade of hair, and as Illya regained his solitary path he took note of what now registered as a family resemblance.
"Illya? Is that really you?" Kuryakin approached the table, his eyes still scanning from one to the other of the two people seated there. How many years had it been?
"April...' He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, sending a flush across her cheeks that did not go unnoticed by the former agent's keen eyes.
"Illya darling, it's been too long,' her eyes lingered on his just a second too long.
"Oh, and this is my son, Anthony. Sweetheart, this my friend, from too many years ago... Illya Kuryakin."
Anthony rose slightly to shake hands, then gestured for Illya to join them. He recognized the name.
"Are you Illya Kuryakin of the House of Vanya?' The son of April Dancer looked at his mother and then back to the designer sitting next to her. His mother seemed to know the most interesting people, something he never tired of.
Illya lowered his eyes momentarily, wondering how someone of his age would be familiar with his work as the owner of Vanya.
"Yes, guilty as charged. One must make a living, and this one has been very good to me. April, what have you been doing all of these years?" Illya couldn't help but go back to a mission in London, so many years ago. For a brief moment in time he and April had been lovers; impetuous lovers for one very memorable night.
April's tenure as the first female agent with UNCLE had been both brilliant and agonizing. She had felt a sense of purpose in her job as an elite Section II agent, and yet as a woman the cycle of life had seemed too distant for her to continue. After that brief interlude with Illya in what now appears to have been slightly prophetic in nature, given his current occupation, April had begun to consider her heart and what would be truly fulfilling to her.
"Well, you know I left the Command, not long after you did. I fell in love, and that old rule about agents not marrying... Forty was still a long way off and I was impatient to have a life not littered with...' She stopped herself. Her son didn't need to hear any details of that life, not now anyway. Anthony listened without asking questions. He had learned to not ask too many questions.
"Yes, the alure of a life of one's own choosing; it is quite intoxicating after having been immersed in duty." That sounded jaded, and he had felt a genuine commitment to the cause of UNCLE. Even now he was active on a reserve basis as Napoleon served in the capacity for which he had been groomed, even destined.
"Napoleon is now Number One, but I suppose you might know that already." April nodded her head yes.
"We kept in touch. I was glad to hear that the two of you had mended your fences, so to speak. He never intended to cut you off Illya, it was just all so painful for him at the time. He really did want you to consider venturing into that other life, joining his business... " April sighed when she recalled the stony expression that had remained on the Russian's face for months after Napoleon left. When the debacle in Yugoslavia happened, Illya just disappeared and she had no opportunity to contact him. He was simply gone.
"I behaved rather badly at the time. I apologize April, you were a good friend and I ... I left my friends behind. I was more callous than Napoleon when I think back on it; at least he tried to alert me to how he was feeling about things, about his life.' A smile lit up the still handsome face as he changed the subject to what was now his new life.
"I don't know if you're aware, but I have a daughter. Marian's daughter... you remember Marian Raven, don't you?" Illya was surprised at himself for pointing the conversation towards his personal life, but April had meant something to him at one time, and seeing her now caused something within him to stir at the memory of her.
"Illya, that must be... well, wonderful for you. I do remember Marian... I recall reading of her passing, I'm so sorry for the loss you and your daughter have suffered.' She caught a look, something distant that made her wonder about that relationship.
"I myself am divorced. Amiably, I'm happy to say, but single again nonetheless. It's really quite a shock after all of these years." She looked at her son, wondering why he didn't leave the table in the midst of all the history they were rehearsing. Anthony caught that look on his mother's face and took the rather broad hint. But he still had some curiosity about this man from his mother's past. Especially since he seemed particularly not the man he would have expected of the legendary Illya Kuryakin. The son of April Dancer had some of her inquisitive nature, and a fair amount of talent where sleuthing was concerned. He knew what his mother used to do, and he knew the name of the man in front of him. He just didn't know how it all would come together after all of these years.
"Mr. Kuryakin..."
"Illya, please." Anthony was pleased with that, it made the blond man seem less of a legend.
"I was wondering if you ever offer internships. I am considering fashion design, and it would be such an honor to work for you... in any job you might have." April had known of this interest of her son's, he had been artistic from an early age and of late had been intrigued by the rise of young designers and the lives they were living in tabloids and magazines.
Illya shot a look at April, as though to ask her approval. She smiled and put her hand on Anthony's. She loved her son and wanted the best for him, but to thrust him into the fashion world under the tutelage of Illya Kuryakin...
"My daughter, Nicolette... ' April noted a subtle change in Illya's expression as he said his daughter's name and she wondered what he was like as a father.
"I have taken her on as my heir apparent in training. She attended Parsons, my choice by the way. They have a social conscience in addition to pursuing the bourgeois decadence of fashion design." He managed all of that with a smile and then a wink, so uncharacteristic for the man people had thought cold and unfeeling. Fatherhood suited him, it seemed.
Anthony was enthralled, and now he wished to meet this Nicolette. By his calculations she might be a few years older than he, but if she was already working for Kuryakin, well that was something.
"I am very interested in Parsons myself. I have in two years of study with a Fine Art major, but I think fashion is where I want to be. There's nothing like a beautiful woman in the perfect gown, right Illya." Cheeky, just like his mother.
April and Illya exchanged looks that said what the years between them had missed. Neither of them were attached to anyone, both of them still had an inkling of the spark that had ignited the night so many years ago. And now their children might share a dream just as they had, only in such a very different realm.
"Shall we continue this over dinner this evening. Nicolette and I are already planning to dine at the Russian Tea Room, perhaps you and Anthony will join us." It was not a question, closer to a plea. Illya wanted to see April again.
April said yes.
House of Vanya
:~~~~~:~~~~~:~~~~~:~~~~~:~~~~~:
Somewhere in New York City, 1990...
He hadn't meant to intrude on what looked like a private moment, but the sight of her stopped him in his tracks. In so doing he caused the person who had been following too closely behind him to bump and then stumble; Illya Kuryakin responded with an automatic lightening response, catching the girl before she landed on all fours.
This series of events caught the eye of the pretty woman with the auburn hair.
She was sitting at a table by the window, the sunlight working like an irridescent shower as it washed over April Dancer's still vibrant hair. The young man who sat across from her had a similar shade of hair, and as Illya regained his solitary path he took note of what now registered as a family resemblance.
"Illya? Is that really you?" Kuryakin approached the table, his eyes still scanning from one to the other of the two people seated there. How many years had it been?
"April...' He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, sending a flush across her cheeks that did not go unnoticed by the former agent's keen eyes.
"Illya darling, it's been too long,' her eyes lingered on his just a second too long.
"Oh, and this is my son, Anthony. Sweetheart, this my friend, from too many years ago... Illya Kuryakin."
Anthony rose slightly to shake hands, then gestured for Illya to join them. He recognized the name.
"Are you Illya Kuryakin of the House of Vanya?' The son of April Dancer looked at his mother and then back to the designer sitting next to her. His mother seemed to know the most interesting people, something he never tired of.
Illya lowered his eyes momentarily, wondering how someone of his age would be familiar with his work as the owner of Vanya.
"Yes, guilty as charged. One must make a living, and this one has been very good to me. April, what have you been doing all of these years?" Illya couldn't help but go back to a mission in London, so many years ago. For a brief moment in time he and April had been lovers; impetuous lovers for one very memorable night.
April's tenure as the first female agent with UNCLE had been both brilliant and agonizing. She had felt a sense of purpose in her job as an elite Section II agent, and yet as a woman the cycle of life had seemed too distant for her to continue. After that brief interlude with Illya in what now appears to have been slightly prophetic in nature, given his current occupation, April had begun to consider her heart and what would be truly fulfilling to her.
"Well, you know I left the Command, not long after you did. I fell in love, and that old rule about agents not marrying... Forty was still a long way off and I was impatient to have a life not littered with...' She stopped herself. Her son didn't need to hear any details of that life, not now anyway. Anthony listened without asking questions. He had learned to not ask too many questions.
"Yes, the alure of a life of one's own choosing; it is quite intoxicating after having been immersed in duty." That sounded jaded, and he had felt a genuine commitment to the cause of UNCLE. Even now he was active on a reserve basis as Napoleon served in the capacity for which he had been groomed, even destined.
"Napoleon is now Number One, but I suppose you might know that already." April nodded her head yes.
"We kept in touch. I was glad to hear that the two of you had mended your fences, so to speak. He never intended to cut you off Illya, it was just all so painful for him at the time. He really did want you to consider venturing into that other life, joining his business... " April sighed when she recalled the stony expression that had remained on the Russian's face for months after Napoleon left. When the debacle in Yugoslavia happened, Illya just disappeared and she had no opportunity to contact him. He was simply gone.
"I behaved rather badly at the time. I apologize April, you were a good friend and I ... I left my friends behind. I was more callous than Napoleon when I think back on it; at least he tried to alert me to how he was feeling about things, about his life.' A smile lit up the still handsome face as he changed the subject to what was now his new life.
"I don't know if you're aware, but I have a daughter. Marian's daughter... you remember Marian Raven, don't you?" Illya was surprised at himself for pointing the conversation towards his personal life, but April had meant something to him at one time, and seeing her now caused something within him to stir at the memory of her.
"Illya, that must be... well, wonderful for you. I do remember Marian... I recall reading of her passing, I'm so sorry for the loss you and your daughter have suffered.' She caught a look, something distant that made her wonder about that relationship.
"I myself am divorced. Amiably, I'm happy to say, but single again nonetheless. It's really quite a shock after all of these years." She looked at her son, wondering why he didn't leave the table in the midst of all the history they were rehearsing. Anthony caught that look on his mother's face and took the rather broad hint. But he still had some curiosity about this man from his mother's past. Especially since he seemed particularly not the man he would have expected of the legendary Illya Kuryakin. The son of April Dancer had some of her inquisitive nature, and a fair amount of talent where sleuthing was concerned. He knew what his mother used to do, and he knew the name of the man in front of him. He just didn't know how it all would come together after all of these years.
"Mr. Kuryakin..."
"Illya, please." Anthony was pleased with that, it made the blond man seem less of a legend.
"I was wondering if you ever offer internships. I am considering fashion design, and it would be such an honor to work for you... in any job you might have." April had known of this interest of her son's, he had been artistic from an early age and of late had been intrigued by the rise of young designers and the lives they were living in tabloids and magazines.
Illya shot a look at April, as though to ask her approval. She smiled and put her hand on Anthony's. She loved her son and wanted the best for him, but to thrust him into the fashion world under the tutelage of Illya Kuryakin...
"My daughter, Nicolette... ' April noted a subtle change in Illya's expression as he said his daughter's name and she wondered what he was like as a father.
"I have taken her on as my heir apparent in training. She attended Parsons, my choice by the way. They have a social conscience in addition to pursuing the bourgeois decadence of fashion design." He managed all of that with a smile and then a wink, so uncharacteristic for the man people had thought cold and unfeeling. Fatherhood suited him, it seemed.
Anthony was enthralled, and now he wished to meet this Nicolette. By his calculations she might be a few years older than he, but if she was already working for Kuryakin, well that was something.
"I am very interested in Parsons myself. I have in two years of study with a Fine Art major, but I think fashion is where I want to be. There's nothing like a beautiful woman in the perfect gown, right Illya." Cheeky, just like his mother.
April and Illya exchanged looks that said what the years between them had missed. Neither of them were attached to anyone, both of them still had an inkling of the spark that had ignited the night so many years ago. And now their children might share a dream just as they had, only in such a very different realm.
"Shall we continue this over dinner this evening. Nicolette and I are already planning to dine at the Russian Tea Room, perhaps you and Anthony will join us." It was not a question, closer to a plea. Illya wanted to see April again.
April said yes.
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Date: 2014-10-08 05:27 pm (UTC)http://www.newschool.edu/parsons/history/
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Date: 2014-10-08 05:54 pm (UTC)