“What do you mean I can’t help? For the love of God Illya, you haven’t given me a chance!” Napoleon glared at the younger agent, perplexed by the sudden arctic frost and uncompromising position.

“As I said before Napoleon, this is personal.” Illya sighed as he looked down at the hastily scrawled note in his hands.

“Yes, it would be. You know, whenever I hear that, my teeth itch.” Napoleon reigned in his growing temper, and the distress rippling through him was evidence enough, if Illya had bothered to raise his head and take a look. Which of course he didn’t. Ever since coming back from Waverley’s office, he’d been withdrawn, moody, and distinctly cold. It was as if the last five years of friendship counted for nothing, as if Napoleon was being cast off again, as he had been in the beginning of their partnership. It was a feeling of dismissal the urbane man was loathed to accept from anyone, especially from one reticent blond.

“Your teeth itch whenever there is something you cannot control, I’m certain by now, you’d have developed immunity to the constant rash I must be giving you!” Illya snapped and stormed out of their office.

“Well, that went well.” April leaned in the open door and smirked down at her nails.

“Is there something you want, Ms. Dancer?” Napoleon was harsh and didn’t even bother to look up from his files.

“Not particularly. Mr. Waverley wants to see you.”

“And you couldn’t help yourself but bring the glad tiding personally?” Napoleon almost sneered at her.

“Oh, we are in mood aren’t we, Mr. Solo? I take it the ice prince has given you the cold shoulder.”

“Now April,” Napoleon approached and traced the side of her face with his long finger, and she shuddered as she felt the callous touch her lips that had grown over the years of gun use. She remembered belatedly that this was Solo, the most feared and most relentless agent ever placed in the field by UNCLE. It was easy at times to dismiss the truth of the man when you considered the package and she swallowed uneasily. “In case you had forgotten love, I do the assignment roster and unless you have a burning desire to end up in the arctic I suggest you remember who you’re dealing with.” He snapped the folder shut and for emphasis he closed his door and headed off towards Waverley’s office, and his teeth still itched.

~~~oooOOOooo~~~~

Illya walked the lower east forties. His vision blurred as he thought back on a day, one that he promised himself he would never forget. His heart ached as his restless feet took him the twenty blocks north into Central Park. The sun warmed his left shoulder, yet little filtered down into his heart which remained stone cold. For years he remembered the look on Uriel’s face as the border patrol he led chased him across the frozen tundra. It was horror and contempt, and with it came a cold promise of pain and retribution should the chance arise.

It would appear his dear brother would soon have his opportunity. Born out of wedlock after Illya’s mother died, Uriel was the younger son, beloved of his father and possessing his step-mother’s fiery temperament. His decision to flee Russia took its toll on the family. His stepmother begged him not to go after her baby, his father – even now he mourned the death of his father’s soul. The General died of a broken heart within months of Uriel’s defection. State funeral not withstanding, the Kuryakins were very much on their own politically speaking, and at the tender age of twenty four, Illya was the patriarch of a family in desperate need.

The once powerful family since the war had fallen to five children and Anushka. Illya’s sister was older, enough so that she was married to a diplomat and lived in London, his baby sisters lived in a two room apartment given with much reluctance by the state in memory of the General. But the state provided nothing else. Twin girls no more than three years old, who needed school, warm clothes and food, all of which fell to Illya to provide. Anushka froze him out of the family for hunting her beloved son, but never once did she send back his monthly pay cheque, nor did he hear from her. Pictures of his sisters were few and far between and only when Ekaterina sent them to him via diplomatic pouch from London. He sighed heavily and wiped at the tears that formed unbidden and sat down on the park bench.

Life recently had become far too complex for him and now it was about to get worse. Uriel knew secrets, some of which could destroy him; others would simply embarrass him. Either way he longed to see his brother, even if it meant an opportunity to end the torment once and for all.

But not like this, never like this. He knew what the KGB wanted, Mr. Waverly had not needed to explain it to him and he needed time to think. Anushka was dying and if he wanted his baby sisters to grow up, smell and taste freedom, he would have to comply and killing Uriel was the only option his former masters had given him. In return for selling his soul to the black devils, he would be allowed to take the girls from Moscow and put them in the tender hands of his sister living in England.

Resigned Illya turned his face towards the bright sun and breathed in the warm air.

~~~oooOOOooo~~~

“Ah come in, Mr. Solo.” Alexander puffed on his pipe and waited for the door to close behind his senior agent.

“You, ah wanted to see me, sir?” Napoleon ever respectful felt the storm approach before the first clouds showed in the old man’s eyes.

“We have a delicate situation, Mr. Solo, that requires your careful handling.”

“I see,” Napoleon nodded.

Mr. Waverly frowned and drew down his formidable brows as he carefully watched the younger man. “This matter concerns your partner.”

“In what way?” Napoleon grew still, calmer than he imagined he could. Too many times in the past Illya had been in peril, they had both been in jeopardy, but he had never felt the chill of fear burn him as it did now.

“As you are no doubt aware, Mr. Solo, Illya is a great acquisition for UNCLE and has been invaluable in the constant tug of war between our nations. However, it would seem there are those in the Polit Bureau who are seeking to undermine that balance.”

“Whom do we suspect?”

“In this day and age, Mr. Solo, we suspect everyone, including ourselves. However, THRUSH has attempted for years to break up your partnership. It is no secret they would love to eliminate either or both of you, and it seems they may just have found a way.”

“How?” Solo remained impassive and Waverly knew he was utilizing every ounce of training he had ever possessed to reign in his temper.

“Illya’s personal life is not open for negotiation or debate however there are things as his partner and as his friend you will need to know if you wish to keep him with us.”

Napoleon looked up sharply. “And I do want to keep him with us, sir.”

“Good, good, I was counting on that. Illya’s father was a well respected KGB General, and when he died he was one of the last of the old guard to be given a state funeral despite the fact the family had fallen from grace. Much of his status came from a genuine understanding of his people’s plight and a desire to be a good leader. I cannot speak highly enough of him as a military man.”

“You knew him, sir?”

“Yes, during the days before UNCLE many of us resorted to old fashioned methods.”

“Over a glass of vodka, no doubt.” Napoleon smiled and Waverly noted it did not quite reach the man’s eyes.

“No doubt. Nevertheless, things during the war were difficult for the family. Illya’s older sister was a talented gymnast and already cared for by the state. Illya unfortunately was still extremely young and when his mother died and his father was missing, he spent some years under the harsh care of the Russian state.”

“He was in the orphanage.” Napoleon nodded.

“Yes. His father had been injured and was cared for by a Romany woman. When he finally returned to Moscow he went in search of his children. His new common law wife Anushka had already given birth to a son named Uriel, and when he found Illya the family was reunited.”

“The General never married Anushka?” Napoleon asked a little surprised.

“No, and as such the children born of that union do not carry the Kuryakin family name. I understand it to be a source of much discontent within the family.”

“You said children?”

“Illya has two younger sisters who are now nine years old. Every month he sends almost sixty per cent of his pay cheque back to his step mother for their care and well being.”

“All right so now I know most of the family background. Why does this endanger Illya?” Napoleon twisted the cygnet ring on his finger as he listened and began to connect the salient points. It was a whole he found to be disturbing.

“Months before Illya joined UNCLE, his brother Uriel Gregorian defected to the west amidst much publicity and fan fare.”

“The concert pianist?”

“Yes. And Illya was the leader of the patrol guard sent to bring him back. It destroyed what relationship he had with his step mother and Uriel bears a grudge.”

“And?”

“And now, Anushka is dying.”

“And the KGB wants Illya to kill his brother in order to be allowed to look after his sisters?” Solo pinched his lower lip and frowned slightly.

“Shrewd.”

“It’s what I would do, sir. In order to maintain control. The only problem of course, family relationships notwithstanding, is whether or not Illya would do it.”

“You doubt it?”

“That he can kill in cold blood? No not at all. Not even that he can kill his brother in cold blood. But that his brother is an innocent and by virtue of that a pawn gives me pause for doubt.”

“Indeed, since it would be the lesser of two evils. I am certain Illya would not hesitate. However, he does not trust the establishment to keep their word. So he will look for another way around this matter.”

“And that would be?”

“He will try to talk Uriel into giving himself over to the KGB.”

“While we do what?” Napoleon was pacing now, his hands thrust deep into his pockets.

“What would you do?” Waverly watched the young man certain of his responses.

“Correct me if I am wrong, but you are concerned, or we would not be having this discussion. That said, there are political ramifications at play – Illya is not an invaluable pawn and as an asset, we do not want him compromised by the KGB. So we should contact our operatives in Russia to bring the children across. Where is the older sister?”

“London.”

“Permanently?”

“Yes.”

“Then I would think we need to move on several fronts and not let Illya out alone.”

“Orchestrate the removal of the children from Russia and have them placed with Ekaterina in London. I’ll provide you with the details.”

“There is one thing that you left out Mr. Waverly.”

“Indeed?”

“You inferred that THRUSH has infiltrated the KGB and has manipulated us thus far to destroy my partnership with Illya.”

“I did.”

“Then what is it you’re not telling me?” Napoleon leaned both hands on the edge of the desk and stared.

“It is widely believed in certain circles that you and your partner are rather more intimate than is healthy for a Soviet citizen.”

“So the plot within the plot is to return Illya to Moscow and destroy his name completely and any respect the Bureau had for the family. Are they that afraid of him?”

“THRUSH is that afraid of your abilities as a unit.”

“This may have been orchestrated by THRUSH, sir, but this is about old grievances. The KGB is afraid of what he will become.”

“That is my opinion.”

“Is this an official assignment?”

“Yes. Interestingly enough, Mr. Solo, you did not choose to defend the accusation.”

“Am I sleeping with Illya?” Napoleon smiled broadly.

“Are you?”

“No, sir, I am not nor have I ever had sex with my partner. This does not preclude on my part the desire to do so in the future. Will that be all?” Never once did he lose his debonair charm or smile.

Waverley knew that look and was very, very sorry for the KGB officers who would meddle with his Russian. Sweet smoke filled the room in fragrant draughts as he lit his pipe and chuckled.