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

Captain Illya Nicovitch Kuryakin rode his horse through the Russian countryside. The horse was a beautiful white gelding with a long flowing mane and tail. The cavalry saddle and tack shone brightly in the summer sun. Captain Kuyakin was resplendent in his uniform. Green cavalry jacket with red trim, gold buttons gleamed, his white riding trousers were as bright as his charger. His knee high boots were polished to a high degree, in fact the Captain could see himself reflected in the gleam.

On his head he wore a tall shako with a red cockade in the front. His green cape billowed out behind him, the red silk lining visible as it fluttered behind. His saber bounced against his left hip in time with the lively gate of his steed.

He smiled as he rode up and through the open gates to his home. The walls of the huge palace were sparkling in the sun. He continued up the bricked drive toward the front. He slowed his horse to a trot as he made his way past an ornate bubbling fountain, and stopped at the wide steps. A servant rushed forward and grabbed the reigns of the horse as Illya dismounted. Nodding curtly to the man he ran up the steps, his cape billowing behind him. The double doors opened just as he reached them, not breaking his stride he entered the massive foyer. A servant appeared by his side, he took off his shako and handed it to the man. Unhooking his cape he swirled it off and flung it to the man as he ran up the stairs.

Illya strode through the palace his boot steps echoing through the halls.

He came to the end of the hall and flung open the double doors. Entering he stopped a moment to savor the view. The room was bright with sunlight that streamed through the many windows and was reflected in the gilded mirrors that lined the walls. The ceiling was lavishly painted with murals. At the far end of the room stood a woman. She had honey colored hair, piled in soft curls upon her head. She was wearing a pale peach and gold dress in the empire style. Startled she turned towards Illya, her hand going to her heart. “Lusha, my darling. You are home from the war?”

“Momma” Illya rushed towards the woman and embraced her. Her familiar scent of vanilla flower caused him to sigh. He kissed her on each cheek then stepped back, “I can only stay for a short while.” He admitted.

The woman gracefully indicated a settee in front of a window. He took her hand and they sat next to each other. “Perhaps some tea?”

A servant silently entered with a tray of small honey cakes and glasses of tea. He sat the tray on a small table and backed out of the room.

“So my Son. You are well? No injuries?”

Illya smiled, “None that are of any concern. I am well.”

“I worry about you. The news we hear about the invasion is not encouraging.”

“Momma, I assure you all will be well.”

“This man, Napoleon? He is going to destroy all that I love.”

Illya frowned. “Napoleon?”

The light from the window seemed to get brighter. Illya raised his hand to shield his eyes. “Momma, I have to go now. Do not worry.”

The woman leaned forward and kissed Illya on his cheek. “Good-bye my Son. Be careful. I love you.” She seemed to fade as the sunlight became almost blinding.

***************************

“Illya?” Napoleon sat next to his partner’s bed in medical. Something had roused him from his sleep. He wasn’t sure what. “Hey partner?”

Illya Kuryakin was pale, surrounded by medical monitors and tubes. He had been in a coma for several days. Napoleon had been by his side for the entire time.

“Momma?” Illya murmured. “Napoleon?”

Napoleon smiled. He stood and patted his partner’s face. “Come on tovarich. Let me see those baby blues.”

Illya’s eyes fluttered open. “Momma?”

Napoleon sighed in relief and said, “Just me partner.” He knew he should buzz for the doctor but he wanted a few quiet moments to be with his partner. “Do you want to sit up a bit?”

Illya nodded and Napoleon raised the head of the bed. He stared at the pale Russian. “Were you dreaming of home?”

“No.” Illya felt tears start to burn his eyes.

Napoleon grabbed a tissue and wiped Illya’s eyes. “Drugs always mess you up, huh?”

Illya nodded his head. Napoleon took the tissue and wiped Illya’s cheek. “Looks like one of the nurses must have sneaked in while I was asleep and gave you a goodnight kiss.” Napoleon held up the tissue where Illya could see a faint pale pink smear of lip color. Napoleon bent down and sniffed. “Hmmmmm, vanilla? That’s an unusual scent.”

Illya’s lips quirked up into a small half smile as he closed his eyes and fell asleep.