"The Ruse" Part 3 for Wednesday is All about April

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

"The Ruse: Part 1 Part 2

"Miss Dancer," Waverly relit his pipe, pausing befoe he spoke to her; his bushy   eyebrows arched as he did so.

“I know you’re putting on a brave face at the loss of your partner, but my dear I want to make sure you’re truly ready for this assignment?”

April shifted her position in her chair, choosing her words carefully before responding to her boss.

“As I already said sir, the sooner I can get back to work, the faster I can get Mark off my mind. He’s been haunting me a lot, I have to admit.  I mean, that Mr. Chevalier, he reminded me of Mark...It’s like I’ve been seeing him everywhere, even at his funeral.  I know it’s just my imagination, but it is rather upsetting.  Maybe I’m not ready for this assignment after all sir?"

“Nonsense, you’re fine. Grief can play strange tricks on the mind I assure you. After experience the traumatic loss of a partner, it is normal to have some self doubs, but I have full confidence in you Miss Dancer. You, Mr. Solo and Mr. Kuryakin are the backup team. It’s Mr. Chevalier whose shoulders will bear the burden and the danger. Now I believe you need to catch up with your teammates as they are no doubt scheming and strategizing as we speak.”

“Yes sir,” April slowly rose from her chair.” I appreciate the faith you have in me.”

Waverly cleared his throat,”Ahem...yes, quite. Now dismissed young lady.”

Dancer made her way to Solo and Kuryakin’s office only to find Napoleon there by himself.

She locked the doors behind her as they closed, and in seconds she was in his arms, letting herself be embraced by her lover.

“We haven’t been alone one second since before the funeral. Are you really all right?” He whispered to her, running his hand through her auburn hair.

“I am, and I don’t feel like being alone at the moment.”

Napoleon looked at his wristwatch. “I have nothing on my schedule for today, so let’s go to my place. I’ll make you dinner, and you can spend the night if you feel like it.”

“Darling, I would like that very much.

They left headquarters together, taking a taxi to Solo’s apartment building. Once inside they tossed their coats aside and snuggled together on the sofa, with Napoleon wrapping his arms around her.

There’d be no love-making tonight, he knew that. It wasn't what April needed. She needed comfort, and reassurance that she was safe as her world had been turned upsidedown.

He hated like hell lying to her about Mark and debated whether he should tell her or not. Really her part in the ruse was to show genuine grief at Slate’s loss. That was over and done with, so what purpose would it serve to continue to keep her in the dark?

He looked down at her beautiful face, peaceful now as he gently stroking her her cheek with his finger and realized she’d fallen asleep.

Napoleon stayed there with her for a bit before lowering her down to the sofa cushions; covering her with a throw blanket.

He got up and headed to the kitchen, deciding to make chicken cacciatore along with a Ceasar salad, not for two but for four.

Contacting Illya via communicator, he told his partner to bring Mark over for dinner, warning them April was here. She needed to know.

Slate was staying at Kuryakin’s apartment on the floor below, given the fact he was supposed to be dead and therefore couldn’t go home to his own place across town. It was ill advised for him to stay at heaquarters since he couldn't stay there in the disguise of Chevalier twenty-four/seven.

When April woke, the table was already set, and she stretched with a contented smile. She took note there were four place settings and not two. She got up, walking quietly to the kitchen and wrapped her arms around Napoleon's waist as he stood at the counter, tossing the salad.

“Did I ever tell you how cute you look in an apron?”

“Cute is a word that applies to you my dear, me...I’m the handsome type.” He smiled at her.

April laughed while reaching with around with her hand, grabbing a piece of romaine lettuce and munching on it.

“Mmm, good. I’m starving. Do I smell chicken...no spaghetti?" She saw the pot of pasta on the boil.

"Starving for just food or...?" He whispered flirtatiously, letting his libido awaken just a bit.

The doorbell rang, interrupting Napoleon's question.

“I’ll get it darling. Who’s joining us, Illya and a date?”

“You could say that...look April I need to tell you something important.” It was too late as she'd already left the kitchen and was at the door in seconds.

She checked through the peep hole and seeing Illya, she didn’t hesitate opening up. April saw someone standing behind the Russian but when he stepped aside, she wasn’t ready for the shock she received.

The two men came inside as she stood there with her mouth hanging wide open.

"Better close that befoe a fly gets in there luv."

“Mark?” She gasped before throwing herself at him, wrapping her arms around the man in a tight hug.

Slate returned the embrace, rubbing her back with his hands as he tried to comfort her. Once April stopped crying she stepped back.

“How...? I saw your body in the morgue, there was the funeral. Your sister Marie Suzette was speechless, which I have to say is near impossible for that to happen.”

“Which is why it had to look real. It’s all part of the Old Man’s strategy at throwing THRUSH off the scent.  They’d never suspect a dead man impersonating one of their own luv.” You see, I'm Charles Chevalier, ma cherie," he momentarily switched to a heavy French accent. "I’m the one posing as him, posing as the ‘Butcher’ and infiltrating Central."

“So you all knew and I didn’t?”

“It had to be that way April,” Napoleon said, walking up behind her. “We needed your grief to be genuine. You know THRUSH agents were watching the funeral.”

April spun around without warning; slapping Solo across the face.

“You bastard! Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you trust me? You led me on and let me continue to grieve, and then bringing me back here to console me? Of all the dirty…”

Napoleon rubbed his reddened cheek. “April, I intended to speak you about it but the doorbell rang. If you hadn’t fallen asleep on the sofa I would have told you sooner and by the way Illya knew too."

“Oh so this is my fault?” She hissed..“And you too Illya? You were in on this?"

At this point Kuryakin had discreetly stepped back out of slapping range. “Unfortunately we were under orders by Mr. Waverly to keep you out of the loop.”

“Since when do you all follow orders to the letter?”

The three men lowered their heads like contrite school children, listening as April scolded them until at last one by one she finally forgave them...sort of.  Mr. Waverly, on the other hand, was going get an earful from her once the mission was over.

At last they sat down to dinner, and as Dancer was seated beside her partner, she turned, staring at him.

“It’s really me if that’s what you’re thinking ducks.” Mark speared a piece of chicken with his fork, popping it into his mouth.

“No that’s not it. When we were at your so-called funeral I saw someone who looked like you but with a moustache and wearing a cap. Was that you?”

“Guilty as charged.”

“Seeing someone who looked like you there and this morning, meeting Charles Chevalier...who I thought looked like you as well, I felt like I was losing my mind as if I were imagining you everywhere. I should have trusted my instincts and known something was going on, but I was too busy being caught up in my grief. That’s not going to happen again.”

“As an agent, you’ve experienced a new lesson April,” Illya said.”We must learn to sublimate such feelings as they can color our perceptions and allow us to make mistakes. I am not saying grief is inappropriate, I am just saying that it is something that must be short-lived. It can endanger your life as it can be a distraction.”

“Hmmm, I guess that’s why Mr. Waverly asked me again if I was ready for this assignment.”

“And what did you tell him luv?”

“I repeated what I’d said earlier, that I wanted to get back to work and get you out of my head, darling.” She raised her glass of wine for a toast.

“Here’s to dead partners and their resurrection.”

“Better still,”Mark smiled.’Here’s to live partners and their staying that way.”

“Here here,” Solo and Kuryakin said in unison.


PART 4- THE CONCLUSION

Comments

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thanks so much! I'm glad you're reaffirming that this all worked. Am working on the conclusion for tomorrow that will post under the Song Story challenge. I thought this was going to be harder to write, but it's actually working out quite nicely, tying the story between 4 different challenges.

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

It sounds rather dizzying, juggling a fic between all those challenges, but it's working so far.

edit: btw, I do agree with those who say they like the GfU icon with the red rose.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thanks! I'm enjoying this multi-part challenge.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

The new pic with the rose was a lucky find. I tried using it as an icon but it just doesn't show, so posting it at the beginning of the fic worked nicely. Thanks!