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section7mfu2014-10-20 09:40 am
To Amy - Short Affair Challenge
Prompts: Furniture/Silver
Word Count: 533
This story is part of the series Once In Love With Amy
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Upon entering Napoleon’s swanky penthouse apartment, Illya Kuryakin felt transported back to the first time he had been there; the Christmas party where he had met his partner’s Aunt Amy.
She was related through marriage, the young wife of Napoleon’s uncle Aubrey Trudeau. Aubrey had died very suddenly several years previous, the victim of an aneurysm that had left the beautiful Amy rich and inconsolably alone.
By the time Illya and Amy had met her heart was mended well enough to let the Russian lead her into a love affair that was, from the outset, destined to not last. Their attraction had been immediate and consuming, taking them from the city to exotic hideaways and finally, as they had known it must, to its inevitable end.
Standing there now was at once familiar and achingly distant. The furniture was the same, elegant and subtle in both style and appointment. An ornate silver urn that had served as a receptacle for umbrellas still stood by the door, the original purpose long ago deposed along with the contents.
Napoleon noted the hesitation, remembering also that first meeting between his beloved aunt and his best friend. He had been mad at them, incensed by the Russian’s audacity and surprised by it as well. Illya didn’t flaunt his romances, and it was not immediately disclosed that the two were involved.
Involved. They were perfect together, and to Solo’s chagrin his aunt, who was more like a sister because of the closeness of their ages, had been happy for the first time in years. Illya made her happy.
“I saw the notice of her passing. I should have gone to the funeral but...” Illya remembered the flash of remorse as he read that Amy Trudeau, widow of Aubrey Trudeau and CEO of the Trudeau Capitol Funds Group, had died in a plane crash en route to a meeting of shareholders in Montreal. It was his life of violence and danger that had separated them, and for her to die like that... it was a bitter irony.
“She was in a good place, her life was full. I hated losing her like that, but she always lived like there was no tomorrow. I think she learned that from you Illya.” The years didn’t seem to show on the blond, but a twinge of grief caused a shadow to pass over the still youthful features and it aged him in a way that time had not accomplished.
“We should have tried harder. I should have tried harder. The women in my life have passed through my fingers because I feared leaving them sorrowing over my death. It never occurred to me that she would be the one... ‘ Illya took a deep breath and accepted the drink his friend offered.
“To us then? To the living... and the dead.”
They raised their glasses and saw once again the glittering image of Amy, and of their youth. The years could not measure what their hearts held dear, and the future would only add to both the sorrows and joys of life.
“To Amy.”
Illya drank down the bourbon and the memory, both of them burning a hole in his resolve.
“To Amy.”
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'Illya drank down the bourbon and the memory, both of them burning a hole in his resolve.'
Succinct but beautiful.
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