Man from U.N.C.L.E. Section VII

The song is here: Song Story Videos Bleeding Love
It isn't romantic, but then that title is wide open for interpretation.

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Prompts: package, pink
Word Count: 985

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"Sir, can you please tell me where I can find leotards for little girls?"

The woman might as well have been asking Illya for directions to the moon, although he might have fared slightly better on that one.

"I am new here madame, and not quite sure where to direct you in order to locate a, um… leotard."  The young woman looked disappointed as she juggled the package in her arms and tried to keep hold of the little hand she  had in hers.

"Oh dear… well… Does anyone know where I might find a pair of pink tights and a leotard?"  Illya felt bad as he watched her look around for someone else to help her.  Working undercover in a department store had been tailor made for Napoleon, but instead it was Kuryakin who was sent in to play the part of a sales associate while his partner hunted for a THRUSH presence upstairs in the accounting department.  The roles should have been reversed, and Illya would stand by that opinion against all odds.

At the moment, the odds were not in his favor.  He truly did not have a clue as to where one might find a pink leotard with tights to match.  His position behind the men's accessories bar was dicey enough, never mind ballet accoutrement.

Illya's supervisor was another young woman named Sylvia Drew. She was watching the new man in men's accessories and recognized the look of someone searching for an answer.  She found him attractive, and his frustration was completely charming to her as she let him squirm for a few minutes before swooping in to rescue him from his dilemma.

"May I be of some help here?" Sylvia smiled at the mother and child, and then at Illya.  She knew him as Ian Whitley, something slightly less intimidating than a Russian had been the thinking for this one.

"Yes, thank you.  This customer is looking for girl's dance apparel, and I fear I do not know where that is in the store."  Illya raised his eyebrows just enough to give an air of complete and utter helplessness, something he had perfected over the years.  Both women held back a sigh; he really was very cute.

Sylvia took over, directing the woman to the escalator and giving directions to the girls department.  When she was finished she turned her attention back to the blond man with the intense blue eyes.

"Mr. Whitley, you will learn where all of the departments are soon enough.  It's a big store, and there's a lot to take in.  Give it some time."  Her smile was warm, and Illya nodded and thanked her.  He thought Miss Drew was young to be in a supervisory position.  It would be inappropriate to remark on it, but it impressed him.

"Thank you for rescuing me.  I felt utterly lost until you walked up to take over."  Butterflies overwhelmed her stomach and she thought it possible that she was blushing.  Sylvia Drew needed to keep it professional, but it wasn't going to be easy.

Upstairs, Napoleon was playing the part of a Personnel manager from the corporate offices.  The plea for help from the President of the company had come to Alexander Waverly along with a suspicion that someone was corrupting their finances in an attempt to buy out controlling interest.  When it appeared that THRUSH might be involved, UNCLE was more than willing to investigate and, if necessary, intervene.

Why would THRUSH want a department store?  That had been the question asked b everyone involved.  What had emerged was the probability that it would simply be a front for laundering money in a large venue with multiple locations.  Catching them at their criminal activities was now the goal.

Napoleon approached the man behind a desk in the accounting area, which was a row of desks behind what served as the personnel office.  It didn't take long to spot a known THRUSH agent whose expertise was in banking and finance.  If he was here then it was a sure thing that he was doing something to the books that would damage the store's economy.  Napoleon perused the room as though looking for someone and then left.  He was on his communicator to Mr. Waverly within minutes.

Illya received a message by way of Sylvia Drew, who took the call from personnel that Mr. Whitley was wanted upstairs.  He thanked her and made his way up the escalator as she watched him, wondering again what the parameters of professionalism were regarding dating employees.

Once Illya reached the top floor he was met by Napoleon who filled him in on who he had seen in the office.

"And are we to take action now?"  Illya wondered if it might lead to something violent.

"Not action, exactly.' Napoleon winked and withdrew his Walther from the neatly concealed shoulder holster.  He inserted sleep darts and motioned for Illya to lead the way back inside the office area.  Once there he walked into a spot where he was partially concealed and lined up a shot.  The THRUSH never knew what was coming, and Illya was close by so that when he collapsed it was as though he were saving the day when he caught him and called for someone to ring for an ambulance.

A team of medics arrived, dispatched from UNCLE Headquarters and ready to transport the patient back there for interrogation.  Solo and Kuryakin looked like heroes and were able to leave the store with some well intentioned comments in their wake.  

Sylvia Drew would be disappointed in the coming days when her blond employee failed to return to his position in men's accessories.  It would be months before she spotted him again as he escorted a visiting dignitary from behind the Iron Curtain, along with that management exec from corporate.

Strange was the only word she could come up with.

"Shiloh Jones is a dangerous adversary, gentlemen. Please, do not let her gender fool you into believing otherwise, should you happen to encounter her in the course of a mission. THRUSH let her go several years ago, and now she became an independent agent, available to the highest bidder."

Napoleon smiled with a condescending curl at the corner of his mouth. He had heard this type of thing before from men like Rodney Jameson. Men who hadn't been in the field and who only taught about the enemy without having ever confronted him. Or her.

"She was most recently observed acting as the courier for a Chinese warlord named..."

"Excuse me, um... Mr. Jameson." Napoleon Solo was a smart ass, something everyone on Survival Island knew and accepted. They also knew this would not end well... for Rodney Jameson.

Innocence is the starting point.

Not everyone can claim innocence when seen from the vantage point of justice.

Illya Kuryakin had trouble believing in the concept of innocence, he had seen too much.

Napoleon, on the other hand, often had a more generous outlook.. It didn't hurt if the view was of a beautiful woman.  In spite of the treachery he had encountered, it was still difficult to assign guilt while making love to someone, even if she intended to kill you afterwards.

Illya saw it, saw her and recognized the treachery.  If he didn't intervene…

He shot her first.

"Penelope…" Napoleon smiled at the memory of a girl he once knew.  Illya raised his eyebrows in a questioning manner as he put down his book and yielded to the curiosity provoked by such a wistful tone in his friend's voice.

"And who is Penelope?" He had to ask, if for no other reason to be accommodating to Napoleon's apparent desire to speak of the woman.

"Oh, well… ', he sighed at the image of a young girl dressed in a yellow dress, her dark hair hanging around her shoulders in soft curls.

"She was the Autumn Apple Blossom Queen of 1951.  I was getting ready to ship out for Korea and the last thing I did was attend the Apple Festival and ask Miss Penelope Dugan out on a date with a man who might never return."  Illya smiled at the obvious ploy, one played out across nations by men waiting to deploy to some foreign war.

"And did she oblige the condemned's last wish?" Napoleon laughed out loud at the memory.

"No, no she did not.  Penelope had turned down more than one love struck sailor or soldier.  The girl was a class act and she knew it.  Her future wasn't with some grunt in the military."  It had stung a little at the time, but now Napoleon could see how a young woman of that era had to look out for her future, and that usually meant marrying well.

"So, did Penelope find her man?" Illya couldn't help but be a little curious.

"She did indeed.  Penelope married the son of a senator, and today is the wife of one.  She did well for herself, and, to his credit, the man she married fulfilled her vision of a bright future."  

Napoleon had encountered Penelope on a trip to Washington the previous week, and was surprised when she hailed him from the steps of the Capitol.  

"Napoleon Solo? Is that really you?"  Napoleon had turned at the sound of his name, and was unable to hide his surprise and pleasure when he recognized Penelope Dugan from fifteen years ago.

"Penelope?  What are you doing on the steps of the Nation's Capitol?"  It was a bemused tone in his voice, the easy cadence of his natural charm not hindered by the sight of an old, almost flame.

"I'm here with my husband, Senator Lambert.  I don't suppose you've kept up with my life.' Her smile made Napoleon tingle just a little; she was still beautiful.

"And what about you?  What brings you to Washington, D.C.?" Time for the cover story, something he always regretted when it concerned people from his past.

"I am here on business, just a few meetings.  You know how it is."  That was simple, not a complete lie at least.

Illya listened to the replay of Napoleon's encounter with Penelope, not daring to ask if anything else had transpired between them.  Napoleon knew instinctively that his friend was thinking of the possible scenarios, all of it based on his usual proclivity to seduction and sex.

"She's a married woman, Illya.  I do have a few principles you know."

"Sorry.  You read my mind, did you?"

"Sometimes it's just a reflection of my own.' Napoleon sighed before continuing.

"She really is a beautiful woman, even more beautiful than when she was nineteen."

Illya considered that little confession, the lapse in a barrier they both often kept in place against the divulging of personal desires, or fears.

"And she is happy?  In her marriage, did she seem happy?"  Illya needed his partner to be fully present, they were going out on a mission in twenty-four hours.  It wouldn't do for Solo to be dreaming of a woman he couldn't have.

"Yes, she seemed… I believe she is very happy.  I saw nothing to indicate otherwise."

"Good."  That made Napoleon take a closer look at the Russian.

"Why do you ask?"

"Why shouldn't I? If she is happy then you are less likely to try and seduce her.  I think that is best.  Do you not agree?"  The challenge was to make Napoleon aware of any hesitation or emotional hindrance that might be lingering after his encounter with this woman.

"I'm fine Illya.  I am just fine and dandy.  Penelope is happy and I am… fine." 

Illya patted his partner on the back, the only kind of solace he could offer.  Napoleon was not fine, and his heart was now officially smitten with a woman from his past whose own future was a barrier to any kind of romance between them.  

Napoleon would have twelve hours of flying to get over Penelope. At least that's what he and Illya were hoping would happen.  Principles and morals… Napoleon wondered if it was all worth it.

"Holy Cow Napoleon!  That's a centrimetrical atmospheric diodal manipulator.  Where did you get it?"  Brandon Lightner was from the labs at UNCLE New York..  He was very excited about the gadget brought to him by the CEA, Napoleon Solo.

"I mean, I expect stuff like this from your partner, Mr. Kuryakin.  I mean, he's the scientist and sort of the brainiac… ' Brandon talked fast and sometimes he overshot himself.

"I mean, you are a smart man, Mr. Solo, um.. Napoleon.  I just mean that,well, with his degrees and all, well… I mean, Mr. Kuryakin is, um… well, Doctor Kuryakin.  Right?"  The hold wasn't quite as deep as Brandon feared, but he was in danger of falling into something.

"Look Brandon, I know Illya is a doctor of physics.  But sometimes I get to bring home the goodies, you know what I mean?"  He smiled, that charming Solo smile intended to put people at ease and, in some cases, make them stop talking.

"Illya will be down in a bit, but I wanted to find out what this thing does.  We recovered it at a THRUSH agent's apartment, and it seemed like an odd thing for him to be carrying around on his own.  What does it do?"  Brandon was taking it all in, his eyes glued to the 'gadget' in question.  

"Didn't doctor, um… Mr. Kuryakin explain it to you?"  Surely Illya knew what this thing is.

"Illya was a little out of commission, he ran into something big and very solid." In truth, the THRUSH whose apartment they had broken into had arrived back at the scene, taking out the Russian with one punch as Napoleon shot him with a sleep dart.  Both of them were now in Medical, one in the agent's section, the other in  restraints.

"Oh… Okay.  Well, let me explain it to you then."  And so he did, a long and meandering speech about weather and pulses and something totally incomprehensible to the otherwise 'smart' Mr. Solo.

"That's great Brandon.  You hold onto that, investigate it and write a report.  I'll let Mr. Kuryakin know it's in good hands."  Napoleon was relieved to leave the lab behind him as he headed towards Medical to check on his partner.

Illya was awake, his face turning blue from the  punch and the ice pack on his cheek.  He groaned a greeting to Napoleon.

"So, did Brandon fill you in on the device?"  Illya could tell from the look on Napoleon's face that most of it had been like a vapor to the disinterested man.  Napoleon liked to know the gist of things, but he didn't insist on understanding all of the science behind it.

"Brandon is a good kid, but I was glad to get out of there.  You can go down and check on things when your head clears."  

What Illya wanted was a stiff drink and a long nap.  That guy had delivered a wicked left hook.

"Fine by me.  For now, I'd like to go home.  Get me out of here and I'll buy dinner."  Napoleon feigned a shocked expression.  He intended to take advantage of the moment however, and quickly arranged to take his partner home.  Dinner was a nice end to an otherwise hectic day, including the science talk from Brandon.

"Thank for dinner Illya, it's always good when it's from Luigi's.  Now, take some aspirin and get some rest.  You'll need it to spend a day in the labs with Brandon."  Illya had to smile at that.  He had once had that kind of enthusiasm for science, although it had waned slightly with his involvement in enforcement.  Perhaps a day with someone whose intensity ran with the same curiosity and enthusiasm as he had once possessed would be good for him.

"I shall make the best of it, my friend."  The two friends said their good nights and mentally prepared for another day.

Illya got into his bed and fell asleep almost instantly.  In his dreams, he was once again a young man with a dream of exploring the secrets of the universe, or even the multiverse.

He slept very well indeed.

Frantically searching for his partner, Napoleon Solo knew there were only a few minutes left on the clock before the bomb would take out half a city block and everyone on it.  He had last seen Illya Kuryakin in a cell, but that was before a round of drugs and several beatings.  For some reason the guy in charge of this hell hole had separated them, by several floors it now seemed.

"Illya!  Illya Kuryakin!"  Napoleon was yelling at the top of his lungs, no longer fearful of the enemy.  Most of them were gone now, fleeing to get distance between them and the potential disaster planned by the the chief lunatic, Lester Pinchot.  The Frenchman was a madman of THRUSH proportions, and his plan to blow up a section of Brooklyn was on track at the moment.

A rattling noise caught Solo's attention.  It was just a few yards away and it had to be Illya.  He hoped it was.  Running now as fast as his weary legs could manage, Napoleon came to the spot and, sure enough, Illya was inside banging a chain against the iron rods that separated him from safety.

"Illya, just hold on, I'm gonna get you out of there.  Napoleon had been searched, beaten and otherwise thoroughly interrogated.  But the THRUSH goons hadn't found the one thing that would change everything.  He pulled a button off of his shirt and motioned for Illya to stand back, as did Solo; aiming for the lock he tossed the first button with precision accuracy, causing a small explosion.  The cell door swung wide with the impact of it, allowing Napoleon to enter and set about freeing Illya from the shackle he had used to summon his partner.

"Okay my friend, this is going to hurt a little."  Napoleon placed the button on the wall where the chain was secured.  Hopefully the length of it would allow him and Illya to avoid any serious damage.  He threw another length of chain towards the wall, intending to hit something as he did so.  

Bam!  Smoke and bits of old brick spewed out from the explosion, pelting the two agents with bits of it, and successfully separating Illya from the wall.  He would have to drag the remnant of the chain until they got back to Headquarters or found a key, but for now they had to get to the bomb and disarm it.  Napoleon knew he would have to explain to his friend why he hadn't disarmed it first before rescuing Illya, but the reprimand would be minor compared to the grief he would have endured had he failed at both.

The bomb was located in the basement of the old building.  Illya quickly disarmed it while Napoleon called Headquarters from a telephone handily located on a desk in the room; it had served as an office of some sort by all appearances.  The bomb squad would finish up here, and a ride was coming to take Solo and Kuryakin back to give their report to Mr. Waverly.

As they were riding back towards Headquarters, Illya finally asked the question.

"So, why didn't you just disarm that bomb before you came to find me?  You risked doing what should have been your primary objective."  Illya wasn't mad, or disappointed.  He was grateful, as he always was when his partner came through for him.  

"You know why.  Tell me you wouldn't have done the same."  Napoleon looked straight into Illya's 

eyes, searching for any kind of disapproval or recriminatory attitude.  He was relieved to find neither.

Illya nodded his head.  His throbbing head.  THRUSH drugs were the bane of his life.

"Of course I would have done exactly the same thing.  But, you knew I would ask."

Napoleon had to smile.  Yes, of course his  partner had to ask.  They would always save each other, and save the day.

Solo and Kuryakin, best team on the planet.