By Summer
Class: Slash
Disclaimers: I don�t own these characters I�m just borrowing them, so please don�t sue me.
Warnings: Ahm, none that I can think of.
Thank you EOTU for beta reading this for me! Thanks!
'Silent Night, Holy Night all is calm, all is bright...' Silent night indeed. 'Too silent,' Illya thought. 'Far too silent.'
The large hands gently picked up the golden haired 3-year-old child. The small child clutched tightly to the crystal star in his hand. Blue eyes looked up, meeting two identical blue eyes. Blinking, the boy turned and saw that he was being carried to the large pine tree, which was still wet after being cut down and brought in from outside earlier in the evening. Glancing out the window, the child could see huge snowflakes gliding to the earth.
The fireplace crackled and snapped, its flames controlled, keeping the wooden cabin warm from the harsh Canadian winter outside. Reaching the tree, the child put the star in place at the top branch. Smiling the child turned into his father's embrace and hugged him tightly around the neck.
"Ah, but we aren't finished yet." said the father in Russian.
Moving back for effect he turned off the light switch and the living room came all aglow with the light from the fireplace and the twinkling star lit tree. The child in his arms stared wide-eyed at the tree, completely fascinated at the sight.
Putting him down, the father watched his son walk over to the tree and continue to stare at the awesome sight. His small fingers gently moved over the branches and lights and ornaments that adorned the tree. Smiling, the child looked back at his father and then sat on the floor to gaze dreamily at the tree. Not a word was spoken after that and Illya Nickovetch Kuryakin returned to his desk where he continued to try to write out his notes. He had to recheck all his savings and finances for the coming year. From the looks of things they would not run into any financial problems until spring.
Looking out the window Illya sighed and wondered what the future would bring for him and his son. If only...
Shaking his head, Illya returned to his work. So absorbed was he that he didn't hear the knock at the door. Feeling a pull on his sweater, Illya looked down to see his son's fearful and questioning gaze at the door. Hearing the second knock, Illya at once reached for the gun he had hidden away in the top draw of his desk.
Putting his son in a closet and closing the door he turned back to the cabin door with cold intent. The knock came again.
"Who is it?" Illya asked, raising the gun to a firing position and bracing himself along the wall near the door.
"Santa Claus. Open the damn door before I turn into Frosty the Snowman."
Totally taken by surprise Illya put the gun in his pocket and opened the door to stare at a man completely covered with wrapped Christmas presents. "Napoleon?"
At a loss for words Illya could only move aside to let his ex-partner in.
"Brr, it's freezing out there. What a nice blizzard up here in the Canadian Rockies. Couldn't have picked a warmer climate could you? Like say Florida?"
Solo found the couch and emptied his arms, piling the seat high with presents. Free to move again, he quickly removed his snow- and ice-covered winter jacket and accessories. Smiling widely Napoleon Solo turned and surveyed the room, giving his Russian partner a corny grin. "So, where is the little angel? Hiding?"
Illya stared in stunned silence by Napoleon�s fore knowledge of the son he had thought kept secret from everyone. Napoleon gave him a silent look that promised to explain how he had come to know about Illya�s son at a later time.
Noticing the soft click from the closet door, Napoleon spotted the small figure making his way slowly towards him out the corner of his eye. Turning away Napoleon at once started to scan the room half bent and making sure not to look at the child directly.
"Hello,...hello, where are you?... Pasha?.... Hey.... Where are you?" Moving several items and looking underneath them, Napoleon continued his playful search, stifling a laugh as the child copied his movements looking under items as well. Seeming also intent in finding himself. "Hmmm, I wonder where he could be.... I think Pasha's lost...what do you think Illya?"
Illya felt his throat tighten, but forced down the lump and had to smile at the scene before him. After all this time, Illya thought he had adjusted to leaving Uncle and his partner behind, now he found that his feelings were as strong as ever.
'Why, Napoleon, do you have to come back into my life and complicate things more?'
It was then the child moved forward, and looking at Napoleon grabbed onto his pant leg and tugged on it.
"Oh, there you are!" Being sure to make a big fuss, Napoleon quickly scooped up the child into his arms. The child called Pasha looked up at the brown haired man and slowly smiled at the gentle brown eyes that gazed at him. "My oh my, I was really worried, thought I lost you...." Napoleon nodded at the tiny form. The child then replied softly in Russian, copying the nodding of Napoleon's head at the same time. "Me too."
Unable to resist, Napoleon gave out a loud booming laugh that echoed in the cabin. The child only stared at him with the small smile still on his lips. Hugging Pasha, Napoleon turned to look at Illya who had closed the door and was now just standing off to the side unable to move or speak, able only to look at the unexpected visitor in his home.
Napoleon looked from father to son. The child was the spitting image of his father. Napoleon silently wondered if this is exactly how Illya had looked as a boy.
"I bet you don't even know who I am," Said Napoleon to Pasha. The child shook his head. "My name is Napoleon Solo; I use to work with your papa. He was the best partner a guy could have...and my best friend, You can call me Uncle Napoleon if you want to."
The child paused and looked at him wonderingly. Then after a long time he made up his mind and nodded, returning the hug back to his new Uncle Napoleon.
Tired at being held the child wiggled out of Napoleon's arms and made his way back to his father. Throwing his arms around Illya's legs, Pasha stared back at Napoleon. Then, seeing things were OK, he went back to the Christmas tree and deposited himself down in front of it to gaze again at the twinkling lights.
Illya found his voice at last, "I'll make you some coffee."
Illya went to the kitchen to put water on to heat. He had just set up two cups when the dark figure moved up behind him. Turning, Illya saw his ex-partner with his arms crossed, looking at him solemnly. "How did you find me?" Illya asked.
"It wasn't easy. You covered your trail pretty well. Yurik contacted me."
Illya replied simply, "Ah."
Picking up a wash cloth Illya pretended to mop up the counter. "When you just up and vanished 6 months ago, did you think that Waverly and I would just give up on you?"
"I'm sorry Napoleon, I just...I had to..."
"I know." Surprised, Illya looked at Napoleon and saw the sadness in his face.
"Yurik told me everything.... Well most everything. Of course, I would like to hear your side..."
The clock on the wall chimed the three-quarter hour. It was almost 8 pm. Moving past Napoleon, Illya went to his son."Pasha, it is time for bed." The child blinked and getting to his feet raised his hands up to Illya. Knowing the gesture to mean he wanted to be carried, Illya picked up his son and took Pasha to the bathroom where he helped Pasha brush his teeth and wash up for bed. Undressing Pasha, Illya removed the dirty diaper and put on a clean new diaper then proceeded to redress his son in thermo pajamas.
Napoleon all the while watching the scene followed Illya into a small bedroom to see a bed was already laid out, waiting for its occupant. The room was also filled with stuffed toys, trains, cars and a wide assortment of books. Tucking in his son, Illya gave Pasha a quick kiss on the forehead and made to leave when Pasha pointed at the books.
"Ah, you want me to read you a bedtime story?" The child nodded. Choosing one he gave Napoleon a nod and then rejoining his son on the bed started reading 'The Night before Christmas.' "Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring not even a mouse..."
Napoleon was amazed how well Illya recited the American poem in his own Russian language, even managing to rhyme the verses.
Finishing the story, Illya was not surprised as he closed the book to see his son had drifted off.
"He fell asleep sometime after the sugarplums dancing in their heads."
Getting to his feet Illya gave his partner an all too familiar glare but with no real menace behind it. "And you couldn't tell me?"
"Kids aren't the only ones who like bedtime stories."
Shaking his head, Illya put the book back and moved back to the living room. Hearing the water boiling in the kitchen Illya finished making the two cups of coffee. Coming back into the living room, Illya saw Napoleon shifting the presents from the couch to their traditional location under the tree.
Handing his partner a cup of coffee Illya sat down on the couch joined by Napoleon on the other end. "Where would you like me to start?"
"Beginnings are the best."
"Katrina and I met during our days in the orphanage. It was just after the war. We had only each other. She was smart, very down to earth, compassionate, and..."
"Beautiful?"
Sipping his coffee Illya shrugged. "No, not really. She was short, and a little overweight, and her hair was a dull brown. She didn't care much about her personal appearance; she preferred taking care of young children and reading. She didn't even eat meat when we could get it....she was repulsed by the killing of animals. No, she had a keen intelligence for languages but she wasn't striking or even pretty."
"That's the best kind of beauty, Illya. What lies inside."
"Yes...she was the type of person if you asked her for a cup of borscht to feed your child, she'd make a fresh pot of soup and feed your whole family."
Napoleon smiled at the description, wishing in some ways that he had gotten the chance to meet the woman, while at the same time envious that someone else had managed to capture the Russian's heart.
"We married young. We had just turned 18."
"Your marriage wasn't in your personal file."
"It was kept out for my own personal reasons and with a little help from my government." Illya avoided naming the real people behind the Iron Curtain.
"You must have loved her dearly."
"Love? I loved her, but I was never IN love with her Napoleon...As I said, we grew up together and I guess we were use to being together. Inseparable."
Napoleon felt his heart beat a little faster, wondering if there was any possibility that there was a someone, a particular someone, with whom Illya could be in love.
"It was more like a brother and sister relationship, now that I look back at it. No sparks or shooting stars. Just simple friendship, companionship.... We could talk about anything and everything. Holding nothing back. We went to the same schools, same university. But we had different dreams. I was young and I wanted to travel and see the world...and Katrina...she wanted a home and children...she wanted to give a child what we never had...a real home and a loving mother."
"I was away in the Navy when she miscarried our first child. I returned and stayed with her for a few months but then I got interested in joining an international organization. I was already in UNCLE'S Survival School when she became pregnant with Pasha and finished the training just after he was born. I thought then that we had everything we could ever want. But.... Then I was shipped home just prior to coming to New York. I was taken at customs on my arrival."
"The KGB?"
"Yes, they figured they found the perfect spy. Spy within a spy network. For the time being I was just to go along with everything.... When they were ready they would inform me of what they wanted."
"And if you refused they would kill Katrina and your son?"
"Yes.... All for the good of Mother Russia."
"Why didn't you tell Waverly?" Napoleon stopped before he included also 'and me.'
"The KGB already had operatives in UNCLE, Napoleon, and at the time I didn't know Waverly and I couldn't risk it. Later, well, I just couldn't."
"So is that why you kept your distance from everyone?"
Illya finished his coffee and nodded, "Easier to betray one's comrades when they are nothing but strangers."
"Except me?"
Grinning Illya nodded, "Except you, Napoleon. You got in and I could never shake you."
"I'm glad to know you at least valued our partnership and friendship as I did."
Standing, Illya walked over to the fireplace and stared deeply into the flames. "I treasured everything about you, Napoleon...no matter how insufferable you were."
Putting down his cup Napoleon stared at the twinkling Christmas lights, hope soaring in his heart. 'Illya. Is it possible?...could it be possible?'
"So, what happened then?"
"Then.... Then six months ago, I went to a Russian ballet when it came to New York, and... that is when Yurik contacted me. Yurik was an old colleague of mine at the University and we even served together in the Navy. He was risking a great deal coming to me. He told me that my wife, Katrina, who was at the time a schoolteacher for handicapped children, had been arrested for treason. It seems that the KGB wanted her to assassinate a diplomat who was coming to the school to talk to the children. All propaganda.... Being the woman that she was...she refused. They took Pasha as well."
Taking in deep breaths Illya shook off the pain and continued. "I took my leave of absence from UNCLE and contacted the KGB and ordered them to release my wife.... Then I begged. Pleaded.... I pleaded with them, Napoleon, and all they did was laugh. I told them if they wanted me as a spy for them they had to release my family. But they refused...you see my time in the West had corrupted me. The KGB had other, more reliable moles now and they no longer needed me."
Shivering slightly Illya wrapped his arms around himself. The cold glint of anger shone from his eyes. "I didn't have a choice. So, I used my UNCLE and Russian training and went back to Mother Russia, intent on getting my wife and son back. I didn't have any plans or any ideas on what to do, only that I would do whatever it would take to get them free."
"Why didn't you ask Waverly for help?"
"How could I? Napoleon, you know with the cold war those relations were already strained between Russia and UNCLE.... What could he do without causing more of an incident? Besides, it was my problem, my personal affair."
"Why didn't you ask me to help you?"
Illya turned to Napoleon and shook his head. "I couldn't.... Napoleon What I was trying to do was a sure suicide mission. I couldn't ask that of you."
"You wouldn't have had to...that's what friends are for to stand by and to help each other."
Shaking his head Illya turned back to the flames. "I'm sorry Napoleon, but I just couldn't ask it of you." Returning to sit on the couch, Illya leaned forward and stared at the tree. His heart ached sadly over the events in his life. He wondered if there had been another way or if he could have been able to change anything that occurred if he had been there sooner or had gotten more help.
"They had placed her at a high security prison in Leningrad. Armed with what I could find and with the information Yurik gave me I went in. I never expected to come out alive. I was in the kill or be killed mode. Anyone who crossed my path I quickly killed. I couldn't risk one of them waking up or escaping to sound the alarm. I found my wife.... I had hoped to get to her in time...but...It was awful, Napoleon...they had tortured her...they had shaved all her hair and pulled out each of her fingernails...." He swallowed, remembering her appearance and how her lifeless body had lain on the cement floor. He covered his face with his hands. "She had never hurt a living soul...how could they have done such a thing.... And all that in front of our son...."
Not knowing what else to do, Napoleon reached for his friend. His arm went protectively around Illya's shoulders. "Illya.... I'm so sorry."
Collecting himself, Illya looked up and allowed the anger to return to his face. "Yes.... My son Pasha.... He was there on the floor...cold and naked...I had never met him, you know... Even when he had been born. Not even a picture of him." Napoleon's eyes narrowed.
Illya swallowed again and shook his head then looked away.
"I grabbed Pasha, planted a bomb and fled. I don't know how we made it through the mountains and the freezing cold even with the diversion of the explosion. Always the soldiers and dogs seemed to be only a few feet behind. I don't know how we got out of there, a miracle perhaps...I don't know. But we did. As soon as I reached a village I took Pasha to a clinic. They told me that he was suffering from frostbite, dehydration and malnourishment. Three years old Napoleon...three years old! How could anyone do that to a child and a woman!" Barely containing his anger Napoleon nodded.
"I wanted to go back.... And resurrect all those I had killed so I could kill them again. I was so angry I wanted to strike out at someone, anyone...I did too.... I tracked down the officer who had placed my wife and son in that prison. He was coming out of a bar.... Drunk as a lord.... A lowly KGB officer hoping to someday get promoted. Quite unaware as I came up behind him and slit his throat." Illya covered his eyes.
"I understand why you did that, Illya."
"Do you, Napoleon? He wasn't the one responsible for what happened to my son, he was just an instrument.... No, the one who really was responsible was General Petriv Yarkoff. I wanted him dead most of all. He had been the one behind it all. But, I couldn't find him and I had to get Pasha away. I didn't know where to go or where to take him. I thought at first to take him back with me to America and defect. But I could not expect Waverly to take me back...and working in UNCLE how could I.... How could I go off to save the world and leave my son alone with strangers? Never mind the danger I would put him in if anyone...if THRUSH ever found out."
Not wanting to but knowing he would have done the same, Napoleon agreed.
"So here I am, in Canada, hiding away.... Celebrating Pasha's first Christmas with me, together in exile from Russia where I was born and raised and exiled from America, the place that had become my new home."
Knowing he had no choice Napoleon spilled it out. "Yurik is dead..."
Shocked, Illya faced his partner.
"The KGB. One of Yarkoff's men killed him two weeks ago. But he never told them where you were. This cabin?"
"It belonged to Yurik's grandmother. She was French Canadian. I didn't know."
"He died honorably...with a gun in his hand.... After he shot General Petriv Yarkoff at point blank range." Illya raised an eyebrow.
"A new agent has taken over and he has, ahem, gone over the files and has vindicated Katrina Kuryakina and Illya Nickovetch Kuryakin. You could go home if you wanted to."
Not knowing what to say Illya ignored the chiming of the clock in the kitchen as it announced that it was midnight. "Christmas day.... A day of hope.... I was hoping you would consider coming back to UNCLE...back to New York."
"Napoleon I can't."
"Waverly told me in no uncertain terms that I was to bring you back. We want you back."
Touched, Illya smiled, then grew serious. "I can't return to UNCLE with Pasha. It's no place for a child...and I could not just leave him alone."
"Waverly knew you would say that so he informed me you would get a raise so you can afford to put Pasha in child care and the times you would be gone for more then a day April and Mark agreed to take care of Pasha, they would be glad to help out.... And....I would do what ever I could.... To help you and Pasha."
Grinning, Illya reached over and took Napoleon's hand. Then, realizing what he was doing Illya began to let go when Napoleon closed his hands around his tightly. "Napoleon?" Illya's eyes gazed at him questioningly.
"I missed you.... I missed my partner.... But I missed my friend more."
Illya opened his mouth to say something, but stopped when Napoleon lifted his finger and put it over his lips. Illya's eyes went wide, and wider still as Napoleon moved in closer...
A moment later their lips touched in a tender kiss. It started gently and without any urgency but quickly exploded into passion. They embraced, their hands roving over each other's bodies, intent on touching every spot they could reach. Illya's hands found their way inside Napoleon's shirt, and he reveled at the warmth of the flesh under his hands. Meanwhile, Napoleon's hands reached down Illya's back and found their place grasping Illya's buttocks firmly.
Breaking away Illya breathlessly stared at his partner. "Napoleon, tell me when did you..?"
"When you left, disappeared, and I thought I'd lost you forever."
"Say it!" Illya demanded.
"I love you..."
"...Oh Napoleon.... How I've longed to hear that.... I love you too...but I never could have hoped...Dreamed.... Believed.... This won't be easy."
"Life and love for a spy seldom are." Napoleon responded before the renewed kiss molded their lips together.
"Mr. Waverly...."
"He already knows.... Knew before we did...He doesn't care as long as it doesn't interfere with our work."
Removing Illya's shirt from his body, Napoleon gazed at the man he loved before him and grabbed Illya tightly into his arms, slowly lowering him backwards onto the couch. "Pasha...." Illya tried to find some reason to stop the madness that was happening, but Napoleon only kissed Illya just above his collarbone.
"He's sleeping. We'll be quiet."
"He is so young...he won't understand."
"Illya.... Tonight let it be just us...tomorrow we'll take care of Pasha and his feelings."
Illya nodded and surrendered to his now lover's embrace.
Now was the time for them, tomorrow would be Pasha's time.
"Don't ever leave me again, Illya..."
"Never Napoleon..." Illya promised fervently.
"Illya....Oh Illya. I thought I lost you forever."
Illya smiled and spared a glance for the twinkling tree before returning his gaze and his attention to his once and future partner.
"So, are you my Christmas present?"
"No." replied Napoleon. "You are mine."
*** And the night was no longer so silent.
Merry Christmas.
The end.
(Author�s note: Pasha is Russian for Paul meaning Small or little. Also I am aware that some children are out of diapers at age three but I figured given the circumstances of the child�s endurance at the hands of the KGB and seeing his mother tortured he would and could have developed stress problems which may include difficulty learning to be potty trained.)