By Summer
Beta read by Bonnie!
Class: Slash
Warnings: None
Pairings: IK/NS
July 1975
"Just say it...why can�t you say it? Just once?"
The taller man with gray -brown hair turned to face the white-blond haired man that stood before him in the middle of Time�s Square. His voice was loud and angry.
"Don�t you think I need to hear it? That I may need it? What are you so afraid of? Why can�t you just say it...It�s just three little words?"
They both looked at each other, their eyes set and narrowed stubbornly. Exasperated, Napoleon Solo growled in frustration and turning started to walk away.
Illya Kuryakin watched him leave and for a moment thought about stopping him. But in the end he didn�t. He only stood there staring at the way he had gone.
Shaking his head, Illya ignored the looks from the pedestrians and headed towards the taxicab on the sidewalk. Spotting the homeless man, Illya contemplated him, and then without thought he pulled a twenty out of his wallet and handed it to him.
The elderly man smelled, and his clothes were tattered; it was obvious that he had been there for a long time. Before Illya could move away steel fingers wrapped around his arm. The blue eyes met hazel eyes and Illya had the intense feeling that the man could see right into his soul.
Illya was about to pull his arm away when the man finally spoke.
"Just three little words, Just three little words, that mean forever."
Releasing Illya�s hand he bowed his head and clutched the bill tightly. Relieved, Illya turned back to the waiting taxicab and got in.
"Where to Sir?" Asked the dark-skinned cab driver.
"JFK Airport and hurry please."
Leaning back, Illya thought about the argument that he and Napoleon had had. It was the same argument they had gone over many times in the past eight years. Eight years ago, Napoleon had contemplated leaving UNCLE to retire; Illya had asked him-no begged him to stay. And he did.
A few days later, in a broken down hotel somewhere in North Carolina on some pathetic mission to locate a Thrush informer, they had without a word fell into each other�s arms and made passionate love. Love? Sex. Illya corrected. That was all it was, sex. Good sex, wonderful, fantastic, The world moved sex, but nonetheless sex. It had meant no more to Napoleon than it had for Illya.
They had worked together for a long time and had an endearing and wonderful relationship as the best of friends. It was only natural that due to some sort of twisted event, they would, in desperate need and pent up energy, find an outlet in each other�s arms.
No, Illya didn�t fool himself into believing in those three words that so many other people spoke as frequently as changing clothes. No, Love existed that was sure but not between two men. Society frowned upon it and the government frowned upon it.
Illya also knew that in time Napoleon in his wisdom would find someone much better then he. Napoleon was always a lover of women and Illya had no doubt that he would turn back to his old ways.
But that was eight years ago and they had continued with the same relationship.
Relationship? What relationship? Illya sighed and dropped his head into his right hand. They had left UNCLE behind 2 years ago and instead of going separate ways Napoleon had instead interested Illya into going into business together at a low budget corporation. With a bit of hard work, they built it up and now had controlling interests- Napoleon as president and he as Vice President and chairman of the board.
Surely that was enough. He had everything and more then he had ever thought he would have coming from the streets of Russia.
He had everything. He had a fantastic penthouse, worth several million dollars and he had Napoleon.... His friendship and lover. What more could anyone want? So why was he so miserable?
Illya looked up and saw the taxi pulling up along the curb. In front of him was The JFK airport and if he didn�t hurry he would miss his flight to Singapore and be late for the meeting of an international company that would benefit them with a collaboration of projects.
Collecting his luggage and paying the taxi driver, Illya showed his credentials to the airport clerk and after having his luggage checked and ticket punched he made it just in time to board the Concorde.
Staring out the window Illya could see the city of New York in the distance and somewhere among them was a broken hearted Napoleon Solo.
.............
The two days he was in Singapore Illya did not sleep well. He had terrible nightmares and often woke in a cold sweat.
Concluding business and securing a 10 million dollar deal, Illya boarded the next flight back to America. For some reason he felt something was terribly wrong and that he had to get back as soon as possible.
As soon as he got in he would head over to Napoleon�s place and take the old lug out to lunch and then....
...........
He paid the taxi man and ran into the hospital lobby doors.
"Where is he?" Illya glared at the Nurse at the lobby desk who gazed up at him in confusion. "Napoleon Solo?"
She turned to her computer and did a check then nodding she gazed up at the handsome blond.
"Doctor Wallace is on the 4th floor preparing for surgery."
She had barely finished her sentence when the blond rushed away heading straight for the elevators.
He punched the number repeatedly as if it would move faster by repeatedly punching it. "Come on, Come on!"
Arriving at the airport, Illya expected to see Napoleon waiting for him in the wings. Napoleon always did whenever he went away on a trip. But he wasn�t there.
That troubled the Russian and finding a payphone, he tried calling Napoleon�s home. He had left a message before he left Singapore to let Napoleon know of his return. He was about to leave a second message about his arrival when Napoleon�s housekeeper, Mrs. Paige, picked up the line and told him that yesterday Mr. Solo had been rushed to the hospital.
She had tried to contact Singapore at Illya�s hotel but for some reason the lines wouldn�t get through.
"He had a heart attack Mr. Kuryakin."
Heart Attack? Napoleon?
The doors opened and Illya hurried to the main desk. The nurse called for Doctor Wallace, who showed up a few moments later.
Pulling Illya into a small room, he gave Illya the latest.
"Delicately and simply put, Mr. Solo�s cardiac arteries have developed several large clots that have been blocking the blood flow. This caused ischemia to the muscle of his heart.....the heart attack. What we are going to attempt to do is perform a cardiac bypass. I need not tell you that this is very serious and that...well...we are going to do everything we can to save him."
The Doctor patted the Russian�s shoulder and then seeing he could do no more walked out of the room.
Illya walked to the window of the hotel and looked out at the city of New York. It was mid afternoon and thousands of people were rushing about. Rushing, so many people in such a rush. Lowering his eyes, Illya felt the tears fighting to break through. Sealing his eyes tightly, his hands clenched together.
He arrived outside the operating room area. Sitting down he kept himself to himself never saying a word and staring silently at a wall. Several by passing nurses quickly gave the Russian a wide berth.
�Damn you Napoleon, I never even got a chance to say goodbye...to say anything to you. Please don�t leave me, please don�t go. There is so much I have to tell you, just one thing I need to say.�
Just three little words, Three little words.
6 hours later.....
"Mr. Kuryakin?" Doctor Wallace, entered the room, he was still dressed in his surgerical scrubs. His mask and gloves had been thrown away and in his hands he held a cup of coffee.
Illya looked up at him anxiously. The Doctor sat down next to the man and smiled.
"He came through. It will be a tough couple of days but...I think he�ll be ok. Given time."
Illya stared at him in confusion.
"There was some damage done to his heart. At least seventy five percent of it is still functioning properly."
"Seventy five percent?"
"He is going to have to change his eating habits, and he is going to need to lose some weight and exercise more often. Less Stress. I also have some medication I want him to take to lower his cholesterol. I had a test taken before the surgery and it was rather high. He will also have to come more often to my office for further tests and check ups."
Illya looked at his feet. �There goes Napoleon�s trips to Burger King. He is not going to like that. He loves there fries and Whopper. Napoleon will also have to cut his hours back at the office. He won�t like that.�
"I want to keep him for the next few days for observation but then...you can take him home. Mr. Kuryakin?"
Illya stared at him and nodded. "Thank you, may I see him?"
"In an hour of so. They�re still cleaning him up and then he will be taken to ICU. I will alert the nurses on the floor that you may see him as often as you wish. I take it you are his only family?"
Illya nodded solemnly. All Napoleon had was his Aunt Amy and she had died several years ago.
A nurse buzzed over at that point and called the Doctor away. Alone, Illya slowly got to his feet and went for a walk.
When he arrived in the ICU, the Nurses gave him clearance and in moments he entered Napoleon�s room.
He looked like hell. Was this the same man that had taken down Thrush cartels, and evil diabolical men trying to take over the world? Was this the man that had dined Princess�s and World leaders? The man who had a cocky grin and a steady hand to fire a pistol into bird's eye at 200 feet?
Solo looked like he had aged 30 years. He was pale, white as a ghost. He looked so fragile and vulnerable.
Sitting down, Illya gently brushed his hands against Napoleon�s cheek.
Getting no response, Illya leaned in and kissed his brow.
"I�m here now Napasha. I�m here."
Taking Napoleon�s hand into his own, Illya curled it to his cheek and rubbed it softly.
Slowly the eyes stirred and brown eyes appeared.
"Illyushka?"
Illya gazed down at the face he so dearly loved and nodded.
"Did I die?"
"No, and if you had I would have had your teeth for cufflinks."
Napoleon smiled lightly and took in a breath.
"I scared ya huh?"
"You could say that this was a wake up call."
"Scared me too. So much for being immortal and living forever."
For the first time in days, Illya smiled.
"I�m sorry Illya for the fight...I."
Illya only shook his head and brushed his lips against Napoleon�s.
"Shhh, no Napasha. It was my fault. I�ve been such a fool. For eight years I keep telling myself that I must be prepared to lose you. Only I never thought that I would lose you to death but to another person...to a woman. I just could never believe that you could, ...that you-"
"That I love you?"
Illya agreed and shrugged.
"And you do and you have stayed with me all these years. Putting up with me. I�m sorry Napasha. Please forgive me?"
Napoleon raised his free hand and brushed back a loose lock of gold hair from Illya�s eyes.
"Always."
For a long time they just looked at each other. As if for the first time. Then Napoleon�s eyes closed, he was starting to drift.
"Napasha?" Illya called.
He opened his eyes that now felt like heavy weights.
"Not going anywhere Illyushka. Just need a cat nap-ok?"
"Ok. Napoleon?"
"Yes?"
"I�m ready to say those words,"
He paused and then Illya softly said them. Once in Russian and once in English.
"I love you."
Getting no response, Illya glanced down and saw that Napoleon had fallen asleep. No matter, Illya would say them again when he awoke and every day and of every moment they would have left in this life.
Three little words, just three little words that meant forever.
The end.