Disclaimers: the Man From UNCLE (series and characters) belong to MGM and I am only borrowing them. Please don't sue me as I am constantly  broke.

Archive: I don't mind.

Note: this is the direct result of neglecting to take my meds <g>.
 
 

...sigh...

What a day.

He was tired, but it was a good sort of tired -the kind of weariness that came after a job well done with all the satisfaction that entailed, leaving a man with a few minutes or so to himself to enjoy  his triumphs. Himself? Hmn... Well, as on his own as one could be  while sitting in a pub that was enjoying a good night. He ordered a  Scotch whiskey -one finger only, didn't need alcohol giiving him a  restless night- and sat at the bar, gazing at the golden liquid when  it arrived and then raising the glass to his lips.

And stopped.

Damn..!

He stared at the shimmering image reflected in the crystal, his thin  eyebrows knitting together in frustration. He couldn't believe it - there he was. Again! He glanced over his shoulder and at the other  end of the bustling tavern, a familiar face nodded slightly in silent  greeting.

Long fingers ran through silver-stippled golden hair in a gesture of  resignation -should have known that *he* would be here, or there,  somewhere...and always close-by. It was like having a shadow. Where  he went, his shadow followed. Oh, his *shadow* was unobtrusive  enough, never going out of his way to be noticed, never deliberately  getting in the way...but it never failed. Where he went, his shadow  would be there too.

Another whiskey was ordered -same as before- and was placed before  him. "Spacee-" He coughed, swallowing the slip of the tongue (how  long had it been since he had even needed to *sound* Russian) and  offered: "Thank you" instead, at which the barkeeper gave him a  puzzled look. "Are you an actor?"

"Umn...yes."

"Thought so -I *know* I've seen you somewhere before."

"Possibly. Have you watched `Colditz'?"

"No... That wasn't it."

"I recently portrayed Julius Caesar..."

"Now I remember! That spy show -back in the 60's! The little Russian  guy!"

Oh brother. He sighed aloud -that spy show. It was there, as a young,  up and coming actor that he had been introduced to his shadow. Now,  he had been warned about the way things were in the acting world - there were strange people out there. People that would kill you or  pledge their undying love...or follow you wherever went. His shadow,  while sometimes annoying, wasn't quite like that though -no, to be  honest, while he wouldn't say that his shadow had saved his life,  he'd certainly made possible a life he might not once have  envisioned...and he was grateful.

But, damn it, his shadow wouldn't go away.

No matter what he did, no matter what role he accepted or where, his  shadow was there, looking as young and perfect as the day they had  been introduced, insistently remaining at his side.

...sigh...

He glanced at his watch -it was late, but not that late. He wondered  if... Several numbers on his cell phone were stabbed in quick  succession before he sat and waited. A familiar voice  answered. "Hello?"

"Bob? This is David."

"Dave!" There was a curious note of relief in the voice. "I'd heard  that you were in town -how *are* you?"

"Uhm...not bad -doing rather well actually." A pause. "I was  wondering if we might meet -I need to talk."

Another pause. "Uh...I..."

"*He's* there, isn't he?"

"Might be," came the resigned reply. "Sometimes I see him, sometimes  I don't -but yes, he's always around. You?"

"Likewise."

There was a familiar rich laugh. "Doesn't really matter though, does  it? Come on over...we'll talk about old times."

"Within the hour?"

"That should be fine. Oh, and your shadow..?"

"He'll be there."

"Mine will too."

"They always are."

A thin eyebrow arched in bemusement as he watched the man pay his tab  and then turn to leave the pub. Stubborn  fellow...liked being  followed as little as *he* liked to have to follow him. But that was  the way it was -they were attached to each other until the powers- that-be said otherwise. He pulled a pen-like device from his coat  pocket. "Open Channel D -Kuryakin to Solo."

"Solo here. How's it going, Tovarisch?"

"Mr. McCallum has just left the pub and is on his way to your post, I  believe. I shall endeavor to remain in close proximity. And *your*  assignment?"

"Mr. Vaughn is being equally stubborn as usual -doesn't believe he  needs me shadowing him even if it *is* for his own good."

Illya allowed himself a quiet laugh. "Those two never will accept it."
 
 
 

---The End---