Napoleon Solo just might have accepted that his partner still maintained a connection, via a family member, with the KGB. But, never in a month of Sundays would he have believed that Illya could possibly be allied with, or stand calmly by whilst a family member, joined Thrush in any way shape or form.

Still, after the revelations made over the last hour or so, Napoleon finally had to face the truth. And that truth was that he hardly knew anything about the laconic man called Illya Kuryakin.

Oh to be sure, the American was well versed with the long and impressive list of qualifications that Illya had managed to accumulate along the way.

He was also well aware of the numerous fields of expertise that his young partner had managed to master in his many travels to date. However, the only reason Napoleon had been acquainted with these many abilities was because Illya had demonstrated them time after time over the duration they had been working together. Illya had often relied on one or more of his talents in order to coordinate or to complete the numerous missions they shared..

So, what DID he know about his Russian associates life and habits away from work? After a quick think all he could come up with was that Illya, like most agents, relied on a few stiff drinks after particularly hairy missions.. Mr. Kuryakin chose vodka, ice cold from the freezer as his specific 'therapy'.

No surprises there, after all he was a Russian..  To relax he enjoyed catching up on the latest scientific journals whilst enjoying a steamy hot glass of tea with a dollop of sweet jam..  Again nothing out of the ordinary for a Russian who excelled in the sciences...  The only other thing that rapidly came to mind was that Illya enjoyed food, just about all food but
that he had a particular love of a dish made from Salmon, hard boiled eggs, onions, mushrooms, dill and parsley wrapped in puff pastry.. That Koulibiaca was a dish from his native Russia again seemed so obvious with no element of
surprise to add to the equation at all..

Agent Solo,could not believe where his train of thought had taken him or just how little he did know about this man whom he claimed as a close colleague..  'God' he thought " How is I am so observant about what he eats and yet I hardly know anything personal about the stoic man I work with.

This was unbelievable, he couldn't fathom it now that he finally stared it in the face..

His own life had just been laid bare, and apart from the odd, well guarded secret his past was virtually an open book for all his fellow UNCLE agents to read..  Yet his partner's life seemed more like a sanctified doctrine penned in hieroglyphics, as yet undeciphered by Napoleon as well as the bulk of humanity.

Dragging his attention back to the here and now, Napoleon forced himself to concentrate on the two men in the room with him, and to the question he HAD to ask, even though he wasn't sure anymore whether or not he wanted the answer...

" Illya, would you care to explain what your so-called brother-in-law is talking about?". Trying to keep a reign on his temper he continued on before anyone else could speak.

"And if you missed that dubious statement that he just made. What the frigging hell has your family got to do with THRUSH??

The two young Russians glared at each other. Both speaking volumes with just the look of an eye, neither having to speak to be understood, it looked to an outsider, as Napoleon now believed himself to be, as if they were in some telepathic link...  What the American was not aware of was that there was a small battle of wills being fought out right in front of him. Both men were trying to impart their will over their countryman.  Roland broke off first, looking away from Illya.  His field of vision took in the simmering C.E.O.

Since he had Mr. Solo's attention Roland used this as his opening to answer the question before Illya could gather his thoughts and work out just how much he was willing to tell this man...

"Ah!  Mr. Solo, it is really very simple, I can assure you! It is the same old story told the world over, every race has the same common denominator.

Our version is very old, to us it is, Byelobog and Chernobog!!  "  Roland Quinlan ended this statement with a large grin as he turned to Illya and said " Is that not so 'Pyerun'"? then he turned back to face Napoleon once more with a pokerfaced expression that seemed to say he had just given Solo the key to solve the whole problem, and that no further discussion was
needed.

That was not to be the case, as Napoleon Solo, no slouch himself when it came to applying  his keen intelligence was none the wiser than he was before Roland  had spoke.

Napoleon swung around and placed himself directly in front of his so far uncommunicative partner, purposely invading Illya's personal space and commenced to show the blonde a side of his own  temperament that Russian had rarely if at all witnessed, previously to this bizarre conversation..

" Illya would you care to answer my questions"?  "Oh and whilst you are at it, would you care to tell me what the hell is Byelobog, Chernobog and Pyerun  when it is at home?"
 

Bringing his hands up to cover his face as he hung his head in a gesture of quiet defeat, Illya gave a great sigh before trying to make Napoleon understand without having to tell the whole tale..

"Not it, Napoleon, but them." Illya somnolently responded.

Previously Illya had deplored the flight that lay ahead of him, but now after this semi- showdown he felt it would come in handy to at least give him a chance to get some undisturbed sleep. Never had he felt so weary, and
he knew it was not just the fact that he had not slept for afew days that caused this drained feeling.   He was leaving behind something, no someone, who always made him feel alive and vibrant. Just by being in his company the world took on a whole new meaning for Illya. Colour and fervor had overtaken the methodical yet drab and dour lifestyle that the Russian had found
himself trapped within before being assigned as Solo's partner..

"Them?" Napoleon quizzed "Okay Who are them? Oh and I haven't forgotten the other questions I asked , so if this was just an attempt on your friends behalf to try and throw me off track --  no dice." Napoleon assured him..

" I did not think that you had forgotten Napoleon."

"Good. Okay tovarisch, I believe YOU! So. Give?" Solo made it plain that he would listen to Illya and only Illya's explanation, whether  Quinlan would choose to stay out of it, was another matter.

"Well, all the questions are kind of related or intertwined if you like , Napoleon" Illya hedged.

"Are they just? Go on then, I am all ears.  You are talking my friend, but not saying anything to enlighten me here.." The American replied,  a little on the sarcastic side.

"Illya is quite right, Mr. Solo, although he seems somewhat shy at the moment.  Maybe he doesn't wish you to know; after all he is very fluent in conversing with most people.  What is it about you that causes my brother to hold back I wonder?"

A few terse words were exchanged, in Russian, back and forth between Illya and Roland, in quick and hushed tones that Napoleon couldn't understand anything that was said.

"Okay, ENOUGH!! I don't care who it is, but will someone tell me what the frigging Hell is going on and quick smart before our Thrush friend out there gets restless and decides to join our little soiree in here?  Not that I wouldn't mind dealing with him in my own particular way, but right now it may be somewhat inconvenient, especially if there IS a family connection." This last bit was barked at the brothers.

Time was running short for the two Russians, as it became obvious to Illya that Napoleon was not about to let him leave without a bloody good explanation.. Why this was so, Illya couldn't fathom. All he could come up with was that Napoleon had no desire to work with Mark on the upcoming mission, but that was silly surely?. They had worked together in the past!
so what was different this time? Oh if only I had managed to slip away unnoticed as I had planned.

"Very well, Napoleon, sit please and between us we may just be able to make you understand." Kuryakin capitulated..

Solo made himself comfortable on the couch, making sure as he did that he was sat  beside his colleague, thinking this would force Roland to sit on the near by chair and give Solo the small advantage of being within touching distance should he feel the need to sway Illya in given direction. This method had almost always worked for him before.  If his little Russian
seemed to be tentative in anyway, Solo would place his hand on Illya's arm or back and viola!  After a slight pause one complacent Russian, well most times anyway... If this did not work, that generally meant that Illya had dug in his
heels and would be as immovable as a mountain.  Roland, unfortunately, refused to cooperate in Solo's little game, as he perched himself on the arm of the couch virtually on top of his brother-in-law, leaving Solo feeling like an outsider once more.

Roland once again took up the clarification for Napoleon's benefit. Illya just sat, staring at the now closed door in front of him, not really paying attention to the conversation as his mind drifted elsewhere.

"All cultures my friend, have their ritual battle of good against evil, right against wrong, black against white.. And within these mighty battles you have, like a giant chess set, your pieces that will enable you to play out the scenario to it's end.. Most people are nothing more than pawns, indispensable to the board/people in general.. But others, well others are necessary to the final outcome for without them they would be no end, the melee would just go on and on until nothing and no one was left to extol the struggle and the resplendent warriors who fought so valiantly will have died for naught"

"You Mr. Solo are an American and have, as have most of your people, moved  away from your heritage and have thus denied your destiny or else I would not now need to explain to you anything at all, it should be imprinted on
your psyche".

"The opposing forces in our  confrontation are Byelobog, the White God of Righteousness and Chernobog, the Black God of Evil.. We all must follow one or the other until we meet our death or victory has been proclaimed"..

"Remember Mr. Solo this is not merely a child's tale to frighten naughty children, but a tangible part of our upbringing.. Many times in the past years have we heard the curse  "May the Black God exterminate you!" directed at those who have trespassed against the good people of our home"..

"Communism tried to stamp out the old ways from our people, told us that the conflict we believed to be underway was only a fable and that we should rise above such nonsense. But us,  families from the old aristocracy such as my own and the Kuryakins, who once ruled the Princedom of Kiev still hold to many of the old ways..  "

Napoleon Solo, had just about had enough of this charade, opening his mouth to speak out against this idiocy in an attempt to gain Illya's attention he started to rise.. but before he could utter one syllable or stand up straight, the visitor put a restraining hand on his arm..

" I am not yet finished with my explanation Mr. Solo, however, if you do not wish to hear the ending, then come Illya, it is time we left..." He announced as he attempted to pull the young Russian to his feet.

Far from being placated Napoleon knew he had no option than to let this strange man speak on. Roland seemed to have some hold on Illya that seemed very unhealthy to Napoleon and if he was to stand any chance at all of breaking it he needed more time, and letting Roland finish his yarn was the only way he could see of keeping Illya here, with him, for now..

"Very well" he replied as he sat back down. " Okay Roland you have said who these Gods are, but who is Pyerun, is that how you say it, and just where do Illya, your family and Thrush fit into this epic..?"

"Pyerun is correct, He is a God of war who aids Byelobog on his quest for victory.. And the connection Mr. Solo? Well, when the first Prince of Kiev  brought a war with the Greeks to a conclusion by an honourable peace their troops pledged their word by their weapons and invoked the name of Pyerun. Olga, one of the first sovereigns of Kiev raised a statue to honour their God, Pyerun.. Igor, Prince of Kiev was the first to invoke Pyerun's name as a symbol for truth and honour and began what was to be a common oath, "Let us be bound by our oath before the god in whom we believe - Pyerun."
 
 

"Great, I am glad you have useful Gods Mr. Quinlan, but I must be really stupid as I still cannot see the connection between Illya and all these wraiths of yours?" the American said acerbically.

Quinlan shaking his head snarled back at Napoleon.

"For an agent you are not a very observant man are you, Mr. Solo? I told you that Pyerun was a god of honour and war and that he was a deity of Kiev, did I not?"

When it appeared that Quinlan would not  continue until he had replied he answered,  " Yes I do believe you did" Napoleon snarled.

At this point Illya rose and headed into the bathroom. This puzzled Napoleon to no end as he assumed Illya was following the conversation, and would jump in with a rejoinder at any time now. But leaving the room put an end to that assumption. So what was he up to?

Quinlan observing Solo's distraction raised his voice as he continued his tale.

"Okay. And did I not tell you earlier that the Kuryakins were once Princes of Kiev?  Now Mr. Solo, now do you see the connection between Illya and our folklore?"

"Whoa hold everything. Are you trying to tell me that Illya Kuryakin is some kind of royalty, or rather would have been if Communism had not overtaken the Soviet people? You are having me on aren't you? You are just trying to  waste time, you know I'll find a way to make him stay here and you are wasting time until the plane leaves and I have no chance to persuade him otherwise..  that is your game isn't it?"

Getting up he stormed over to the bathroom, banging on the door Napoleon  shouted at Illya to come talk to him..  As he shouted out the second time the door opened, revealing a disheveled looking man who could have been mistaken for the walking dead.. Grabbing his arms, Napoleon gently guided him back to the couch, Illya however was protesting the destination.. "Sorry Napoleon, but the plane, we must be leaving. I HAVE to go."

Grasping at any straw he could now, Napoleon demanded " But you can't, you promised to help explain to me why? I am still senior agent here, I don't want to have to pull rank or even have to detain you on a charge of possible collusion with the enemy." He tried.

" That brought a faint smile to Illya dry lips, " That won't work, my friend, Mr. Waverly already knows all about it.  Sorry, you'll just have to loose gracefully this time."..

"Okay,, okay at least tell me where the Thrush agent comes into it Illya..?" Napoleon pleaded.

Choosing to answer again for his fellow Russian Roland spoke up..

" Think of it like this, Mr. Solo it was the old people's way of insuring that the victor would be a member of a certain amalgamation of aristocratic houses. Do you see what I mean?"

As he thought about it the light began to shine through, and Napoleon could see where the connection could possibly be.

Roland continued..

"The best way to insure victory within your family is to unite the greatest houses into one kindred and then to delegate  your bloodline into two factions, one assigned to follow Byelobog and one assigned to follow Chermolog.. And with each new generation marriages were arranged to try and  over tip the balance of power to favour one or other of the factions until
the final battle is due to take place.." Roland gleamed at Solo, reclining somewhat against the couch it was obvious that he had finished his lecture.

Now it was up to Napoleon to see if he grasped the entire declamation that had been put on for his benefit alone?

Getting up, he prowled around the room trying to rearrange all the bits of  information he had just been told into a workable theory. When he thought he had it all straight he went and kneeled down in front of Illya and looked into those ice blue eyes that right now displayed emotions never before witnessed from the Russian.. Fear was evident, fear and something else,
something that Napoleon could not quite put a name to, yet he instinctively felt it was aimed at him in some way..

" Illya, tell me if I am right, please?  According to what Roland has said, your marriage to Katya was an arranged marriage, through your families, that is why you were married so young, is that right?"  Napoleon asked in a tentative tone.

"Da," was the almost breathless reply.

"Okay, and that both of you are from what would have been royal or aristocratic families in the old regime, Yes?" He continued.

This time Illya only nodded his head in reply.

"Right, now here is the bit that I don't understand, but I'll give it try anyway.. Within your extended family is a deep-seated belief that there is a big ongoing confrontation against good and evil and that you have all been pre assigned to act on behalf of a particular side.. And that you, as a descendant of the former Princes of Kiev are to act as representative of, or
as, the God of War, Pyerun, right hand man to Byleobog the God of Righteousness? How am I doing so far, Tovarisch?"  Napoleon had during this time brought his hand up to take hold of Illya's tightly clenched fist, a gesture of intimacy that surprised both the Russians in the room, although neither chose to say anything about it as if  to ignore the fact that the
two UNCLE agents were now all but holding hands.

"Oh and let's not forget our friendly Thrush agent, that is probably still shadowing the front door to the building. I think I found his connection.. I take it he is also a member of your extended family somewhere along the line, only HE has been designated to help Chernobog to defeat Good, yes? is that it? " At this point Napoleon was willing to say anything if it would
keep him in close contact with this man, whom he only just realized his own depth of affection for.

Not able to deceive this man who meant so much to him any more, Illya spoke up.

"Oh Napoleon, you are right and you are wrong.. Yes the old way was to send a son to serve each God and a third to serve the Church, that way all bases were covered as you Americans say, and that is what this is all about in a way.. Yes Katya and I entered into an arranged marriage, but I did, do, did ....    love her. I am a member of UNCLE, many would say I fight for good, Roland was KGB , our distant cousin outside is Thrush, you would say they stood for evil."

Illya stopped here to collect his thoughts, and realized that Napoleon still held his hand. Rather than snatching his own hand away, he placed his other hand over Napoleons, then continued..

" We, Roland, myself and our cousin all return to Russia on the next flight out. I must see Katya, I will be fine whilst I am with her. Afterwards, that is when the struggle will begin, who will win, whether I will be alive or able to return to this country, Napoleon, I cannot tell you.. And there is so much I wish I could tell you. Had told you. I am sorry Napasha". He broke off before he could say anymore..

The use of  his name spoken so stabbed at Napoleons heart " Illya if you are in danger please don't go. Wait, we'll find a way of dealing with this, together. Illya?"  The American pleaded.

"Napoleon, please understand, you were partially right earlier, Roland chose this prolonged method of  educating you of our lore as a way to explain my departure to waste time.  There is no more we can say, Napasha, we must go,and we must go now...   Come Roland."  Giving Napoleon's hand one final squeeze, he let go, picked up his battered suitcase, glanced quickly in his direction then turned to walk out the door.

Napoleon was dumb founded, he just stood there for a few seconds unable to move. Only when Illya glanced his way, and he noticed what he felt sure were tears forming in his partners eyes did he try to stop him.

"Illya!" he began only to be stopped by Roland, who whispered so that only Solo heard. You can't hold him Solo.. Don't even try. By the way,  there is more than one Thrush agent outside, if you try to stop him they have orders to shoot."

"You think that is going to stop me, Quinlan, I've been shot at too many times to let you try and bully me with that threat" Napoleon informed him.

A dirty laugh caused Napoleon to stop in his tracks and look deep into Roland's eyes..

"Oh but you are not their attended target, Mr.  high and mighty Solo.. They will have their weapons trained on my brother-in-law with orders to shoot to  kill should you interfere in any way.   Anything else I can do for you? No! Sorry that I must rush, but I have a plane to catch and I only have barely enough time to get to the airport, just as well Illya used his UNCLE credentials so that we could waive the regular boarding procedure.  Good day to you, Mr. Solo " the snickering continued as he walked away, taking Illya Kuryakin with him..

Silence, they were getting into a cab, leaving Napoleon standing just within the front door of the building, not wanting to tempt fate and the chance that there was a few Thrush snipers waiting to take Illya away from him forever!
Next??...Next?? To part 6