On Launching Good Will - PicFic 12/2

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Please allow for some literary license here regarding the nature of this capsule...
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“The payload on this particular launch will be a communications satellite that will greatly enhance our ability to cover the globe, quite literally, and therefore augment the ongoing need for instantaneous updates on all personnel within the UNCLE network.  It is of the ...”

Napoleon switched his attention to the pretty woman who sat next to the man making this long and mostly boring presentation on the merits of a new satellite that UNCLE was being allowed to annex as part of its own ongoing efforts at stabilizing world peace.  As he looked down the row he noticed his Russian partner was paying attention to the speaker and taking notes.

The room was darkened so that projected images of the various rocket parts could be seen by the select group inside this conference room.  Alexander Waverly, Napoleon and Illya Kuryakin were among those in attendance, as well as several other Section II agents, the heads of various departments within UNCLE and a smattering of US Intelligence personnel.  Some of them were aware of Illya’s background; Napoleon revised that to surmise that all of them would know Kuryakin was a Russian and therefore uneasy with his presence here at what was, in essence, a lecture on American space exploration.

As the speaker made his closing remarks, the lights went up and everyone began talking, much of it unrelated to the presentation just made.  Illya closed his notebook and looked down the row to his partner, an expression devoid of emotion on his face.  Napoleon wondered if the man felt any kind of discomfort in a room filled with American military and intelligence personnel.  If he did there was no sign of it, or of anything else.

“Mr. Solo, please take Mr. Kuryakin and return to headquarters.  I will remain here with my Section III escorts, your presence is no longer needed.”

Napoleon frowned at the sudden dismissal, looking at Illya to try and gauge any reaction from him.  It occurred to him, too late, that Mr. Waverly was attempting to remove his men from any kind of close encounters with the several disapproving men whose approach was now unavoidable.  They had been quick to descend on the UNCLE entourage.

“Hello Alexander, it’s been a while.”  The man speaking was dressed in a charcoal grey suit that was embellished with a crimson tie; his entire being exuded a confidence unique to those possessing great power.  Alexander Waverly was not one to be cowed by mere position, however; no one outranked the head of UNCLE.

“Hello David, I see you are entrenched in your usual cadre of support.  You know my men, I believe.  Napoleon Solo, Illya Kuryakin...”

“Yes, I am familiar with these two.  I am especially familiar with Mr. Kuryakin, and continue to be fascinated by your attempt to disengage his loyalties from our contentious Soviet adversaries.  I hope we will not find any of his notes winging their way to the Kremlin.”  He nodded his head in the direction of Illya and his black binder, the implication clear that he would be sharing the information gained in this presentation with handlers or other Soviet agents.

Illya bristled inwardly at the slur and the accusation, but his expression remained stoic.  Napoleon wondered just how long it had taken his friend and partner to perfect that appearance of complete and utter disdain for people like David Adderly.

“Mr. Kuryakin is an agent of the U.N.C.L.E., David, loyal to the Command and in service to it alone.  One of these days you will perhaps understand the concept, but in the meantime I expect a level of respect for each of my agents.  They risk their lives daily without any expectation of thanks or acknowledgement.  In the end, their jobs are exactly like those of the men you command: selfless and devoted to a cause.”

Adderly’s smile was contentious as he listened to the older man.  He knew what Waverly’s intentions were, he just didn’t believe it was possible.

“I admire your philosophical approach to world events, Alexander, even if I cannot endorse them.  Just know that we are not unaware of where he goes and with whom he meets.  One of these days...”  David Adderly turned and looked directly at Illya, his eyes a shadowy grey as he looked into the bright blue of Kuryakin’s.

“Do etogo dnya.”  Illya’s remark was met with a smug smile.

“Indeed Kuryakin, until that day.”

Napoleon took Illya by the arm and led him through the maze of agents and physicists, bewildered by the tart exchange between the Russian and the American CIA section chief.

“What are you thinking, Illya?  What do you expect to happen after you challenge Adderly like that?  Good God...”

Illya tugged his arm away from Napoleon’s grasp, straightened up and walked through the doorway that led back into the corridor.  He felt the eyes of more than a few people as the room receded, a flush of anxiety at his own attempt at being brave in the face of an enemy who could easily send him back to Russia.

“Please, do not invoke God on my behalf.  I said what I did, now it is over.  Let it go, Napoleon.”  That last was said with a little less vehemence, almost a plea to his partner for some small bit of tolerance.

Napoleon saw it, heard it in the blond’s tone.  What a way to live, one eye on the enemy and another on ... Was Adderly the enemy?  He was doing his job, they were each of them just doing the job.

“Illya, Mr. Waverly won’t let Adderly send you back; he’s protecting you from all the different sides.  Just, please, try not to incite any of them to more animosity than already exists.”  Illya looked puzzled, then amused.

“It is my duty to antagonize, whether it be THRUSH, the CIA or some other equally bothersome entity.  It is my nature, just as flirtation is part of yours.  A leopard cannot lose it’s spots, my friend, and neither can we avoid being who and what we are.”

Fine, compare the impulse to enrage the enemy with flirting.

“Are you certain that we can’t at least use a little self-control?”  That brought a broader smile to the blond’s face.  He was, at this moment, very glad for his partner’s good will and loyalty.

“I will if you will.”  A wink and a smile.

Only time would tell if either of them were successful.

Comments

[jkkitty.livejournal.com]

Well don't think it will be very likely that Napoleon will change so I guess neither will Illya

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

You might be right ;)

[carabele.livejournal.com]

Each man has his own particular personality quirks. But that's why we love 'em. ;-)

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Indeed, love and follow them to the ends of the earth. That's our quirk ;)

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

This was an excellent take on the prompt! Glad you were able to do a story!!! Welcome back to PicFic!

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Thank you, it was an interesting prompt to work with.

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

Illya is short on options when it comes to dealing with Americans who don't trust him. I can hardly blame him for his frustrations seeping out. Great story.

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Thanks :D Yeah, IK is definitely caught between the two big deals of the Cold War era.