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Round
Robin: Hobson's Choice Affair |
Napoleon Solo had kissed many people in his life, starting with
Jeanette when he was seven years old and they were both in First Communion
classes together. Some of them had been many had been good kisses, a
few of them bad, an even lesser amount exceptional, and the occasional one
was even life-altering.
None of them, however, had as much impact on him as this kiss with Illya did.
It was more than fun or passion or even peace. It was finding the other part
of himself he didn't know he was missing. It was knowing for the first time
what his purpose was in life. It was everything he'd ever dreamed of and everything
he didn't know he wanted.
It was coming home.
As he wrapped his arms tighter around Illya, Napoleon felt something briefly
on his shoulder. He ignored it, only wanting to continue to kiss Illya, but
the finger tapping continued on insistently. So, Napoleon, reluctantly lifted
his head from Illya. He stared down at the Russian, seeing the flushed cheeks
and half-lidded eyes. Grinning, Napoleon decided he liked that look on Illya.
"They're gone." It was the same voice that had told him to hide Illya.
"We sent them out through the kitchen exit." Napoleon kept his arms protectively
around Illya and twisted his head around. A stocky red-hair man leaned against
the wall next to them.
"We don't know what they wanted with you, but at least two of them were carrying
guns and they seem like the type to use them."
Napoleon nodded thoughtfully and turned back to Illya, about to ask what to
do next. But Illya was stiffening in his arms and the traces of passion he'd
just noticed had disappeared, leaving Napoleon to wonder if maybe it'd all
just been a sham. Spies were supposed to be good at pretending, he remembered
with a very sickening feeling.
"We need to leave then." Illya looked down and carefully wrapped the makeshift
bandage around his hand a little more tightly.
The man hesitated a moment then said, "There's another exit I can show you."
Illya stepped away from Napoleon, his face expressionless. "Show us."
"I'm James, by the way." The man said over his shoulder as he maneuvered around
the crowd. He waited a second from sort of response from them, but Illya kept
silent and Napoleon took his cue from him, so James shrugged instead. "Several
of our patrons don't wish to be known that they frequent our types of establishments.
So, we have an unmarked entrance through the office building next door."
He stepped through a door and walked down the stairs, leading them to hallway
and with a doorway at the end. "Go through that door and take a right. At
the end of the hallway is a security door that can be opened
with a numeric sequence."
Illya nodded. "What's the sequence?"
"5 then hold down the 2 and 3 together. It'll make a clicking noise. After
that, there will be a set of stairs leading up. Go up to the first door and
open it. Same code, by the way. You'll be on the second floor of the office
building. The main set of stairs is by the attorney's office, you'll probably
want to avoid it. Instead, find the door by 'David Fleming Accounting' that's
marked 'Fire Escape.' That'll take you to the exit in the side alley a block
to our west."
"Is there any thing else we need to know?"
The auburn hair main shook his head. "There are no lights in the side alley,
so you won't have to worry about that. But nothing else I can think of. You
shouldn't meet anyone on your trip and if you do, just say you're a friend
of Fred. That's the owner, by the way."
"Good." Illya didn't wait for anything else, but quickly walked to the door
indicated.
Napoleon shot a confused look at the departing Russian and turned to James.
"Listen, sorry about him." He jerked a thumb at Illya. "But we really do appreciate
what you've done."
The man shrugged. "Don't worry about it, having people chasing you does weird
things to people. Especially when they probably want you dead." He dug into
his pocket, digging out a piece of paper and a pen. He
scribbled down a number, adding the words, "James and Luke" below it. "Here,
if you need some more help. " He pressed the paper into Napoleon's hands.
"Mr. Solo," Illya said, very coldly as he held the door opened. "I am leaving
now, should you wish to come." Napoleon could tell by the ice in the blue
eyes that the agent would have no problem leaving him behind
if he didn't get moving. He winced, obviously the kiss hadn't been as good
as an idea to the Russian as Napoleon thought it was.
"Yeah, right there." He smiled at James. "Thanks, again." He stuffed the paper
into his pocket and raced after Illya.
Napoleon caught up with Illya as he made his way cautiously through the deserted
office building. "You could have been a little nicer; they did help us out
there."
"By 'helping us out', they made themselves a target for Thrush," Illya replied
curtly. "Despite whatever motion pictures you may have seen, Mr. Solo, the
bad guys are not stupid. It will not take them long to
realize they were given a false lead and then they will go back to that club
to find out where we really went." He glared at Napoleon. "And they will find
out, one way or another."
"Oh." Napoleon swallowed. "I hadn't thought about that."
"No, you didn't. Which is why until we get you to a safe place, you will do
exactly what I say, even if you do not understand. Is that clear?" Illya came
to a stop in the dark hallway, the shadows on his face causing him to look
very foreboding and dangerous. Humbled, Napoleon nodded and after a moment
of considering, Illya tilted his head and continued on their trek, making
the rest of the way through the office building without an incident and soon
they were walking in the dark alleys of New York.
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It was just a kiss. It didn't mean anything, especially not for a man like
Napoleon Solo. Why, he probably kissed people like that every day. Glancing
up, Illya tried to see if anyone was standing on a balcony
watching or foolishly standing close to a window. Illya himself had been kissed
quite a few times in the line of duty, while not common, it didn't actually
mean anything; he knew that.
And just the fact that Illya had forgotten about the mission for the few minutes
that had Napoleon kissed him, the first time he'd ever done that since he
started working for U.N.C.L.E., why it could happen to anyone, right? It was
probably a reaction from the pain and the alcohol on an empty stomach.
Illya gave an internal sigh as he automatically checked down a cross street
for anyone loitering suspiciously. Who was he really trying to fool? He wasn't
just anyone, he was the CEA and he hadn't gotten that position by *forgetting*
what he was suppose to be doing. As for the pain, he'd been through worse,
many times in the field and it had rarely interfered with him doing his job.
Nor had he had drunk much of that disgusting scotch that Napoleon had bought
them. He had nothing to blame but himself.
Perhaps Waverly was right; he really did need to take a vacation. Of course,
considering how Waverly usually had to trick Illya into getting some rest,
his boss would probably be shocked speechless if Illya walked into his office
and requested the time off.
Napoleon looked over oddly at him as he skirted around something in the road.
"What's funny?"
Illya startled. "What?"
"You laughed."
Illya mentally went over the past few moments, shocked to realize he had indeed
laughed out loud. He shook his head in disgust. "It is nothing." He sternly
told himself to focus on the getting them to the meeting point safely, instead
on how much Napoleon had affected him. He would soon enough be rid of the
troublesome American.
After taking a roundabout route through the alleys, he stopped Napoleon when
they were a block away from intercepting the street the tavern was on. Quietly,
Illya explained, "We're not actually going to turn on to
86th, we're just going to cross the street to let me get a glimpse."
Napoleon nodded and the two men continued on their way. As they strolled across
86th, Illya quickly surveyed the area in front of the bar - no car, no loiters,
no people on rooftops as best as he could tell. Strange, but he would have
to get a closer to look to make sure it was safe.
On the other side, back in the alley way again, Illya paused by a dumpster.
"The car is not here yet; I'm going to leave you here while I check it out
a little more closer to see if we have any surprises."
"Wait! Are you sure it is a good thing to leave me here alone?" Napoleon looked
pleadingly at Illya.
"We have not been followed," Illya assured him, annoyed at the delay.
"I do not believe anyone knows where we are at this point. I need to find
out if it safe for us to meet the car. Having you along will just make us
stand out more and slow me down. If anyone comes near this road, slouch into
the side of the trash and pretend to be asleep." Illya quirked a small smile.
"They will think you a bum."
Napoleon shuddered as he looked at the grimy street. "Great." Illya allowed
himself one more smile as his watched Napoleon sit down against the wall and
then he retraced his steps to 86th.
Without Napoleon along for him to worry over and distract him, Illya quickly
made short work of the reconnaissance. But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.
He did a quick scan around the area, looking for
something out of the ordinary. The car Waverly was to send wasn't here, although
it could be delayed a bit. He didn't see any suspicious activity at all. Without
a more thorough search which he didn't have time for, everything was clear.
Which made Illya even more suspicious.
He started back to where Napoleon was hidden, his mind racing with plans.
First, he would contact Waverly to find out what the status was on the car.
Then, assuming both Waverly and he decided that the car was
still safe, they would make their way to headquarters. Otherwise, they would
have to find another way to get back; cabs and subways would be too dangerous.
He turned the corner and called out softly, "Napoleon? I'm back." No answer
and Illya sighed with exasperation, thinking the other man sulking for being
left behind with the trash. "Napoleon, I do not have
time for this," he began to say as he approached the garbage dumpster but
then he suddenly stopped as he realized why there wasn't any response.
Napoleon Solo was no longer where Illya had left him.
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