Warning: 'death' of a major character

Illya Kuryakin and Mark Slate sat in the living area of the Russian's small apartment. The two men had spent a great deal of time together for the last month. It had been a devastating time for both of the UNCLE agents due to the loss of Slate's partner, April Dancer.

Dancer had been undercover as a "hostess" aboard one of the gambling yachts which THRUSH used as a front for blackmail and extortion. Any unsuspecting gambler might be lured into a less-than-honest game which would give the nefarious organization the "in" to blackmail those
businessmen or scientists who were of interest to THRUSH central.

UNCLE had only discovered the plot recently so it had been a rather hurried effort to secure a place for April Dancer on one of the two yachts which cruised in international waters.

Fortunately, one of the hostesses had contacted UNCLE with her suspicions about her employers. She had also volunteered to take sick leave so that a new hostess would be needed. April Dancer, supposedly a friend of the helpful hostess, had taken her place.

Unfortunately, Dancer had been working on the night that the yacht had mysteriously blown up. There had been no survivors.

Naturally, Mark Slate had been devastated by the loss of his partner. He had not liked the assignment from the beginning. There had just not been enough time to make the meticulous plans that he preferred, but of course it had been Alexander Waverly's decision.

Now, a month later Slate had asked for a transfer to the London office which Waverly had agreed to. In fact, this was to be his last night in NYC for some time so Illya had asked him over for Chinese take-out and drinks.

The Russian had also asked his own partner, Napoleon Solo, to join the two of them, but the CEA had prevaricated. Assuming that his friend had a date, Kuryakin had not pushed.

As CEA, Solo had delivered a touching but brief eulogy for the fallen agent, but, to Illya's surprise, he had not made any effort to talk to Mark privately about what had happened. He had not even tried to talk the tall Brit into staying in NY.

By now, the worst of Slate's grief had been muted, but he knew that returning to London would help him adjust to his life without April Dancer as his partner. He realized that one day soon he would be assigned another partner,but by going to London, it would be postponed for awhile which definitely pleased him.

The Brit and Russian had chatted and made free with the drinks for most of the evening, but by midnight, Slate realized that he had to go home as he had a late morning flight and there were still items to be packed, although most of his belongings had been put into storage. "Thanks for
asking me over, Illya, but I'd better go. I'll let you know when I get to London. Mr. Waverly did say that if I ever wanted to return, I could. So, this is not necessarily goodbye."

"I'm glad to hear that," replied the blond. Mark Slate was one of the few UNCLE agents, besides his partner, that he truly felt comfortable being around. "I hope you'll find what you're looking for in London. Please, remember that if you need to talk, just give me a call."

"I will, Illya. I really appreciate all that you've done for me this last month." He gave the slight man a hug and then opened the door.

"It has been my pleasure, Mark. You know I was fond of April too."

Slate's eyes flickered with sadness for a moment, but then he recovered, "I know. I think she was the one woman who didn't intimidate you."

"I'm not sure about that. She could be rather formidable."

Mark chuckled. "Yes, she could be at that." On that note, the Brit took his leave.

Wandering around his small apartment for a moment, Illya decided that he needed another glass of iced vodka before trying to go to sleep. Unhappily, the Stoli bottle was empty. Remembering that Napoleon kept a bottle in his freezer and that his senior partner would probably not be
home on a Friday evening, Kuryakin decided to use his key to get into the penthouse apartment a few floors above his own. He would leave a note for Solo--just in case.

Humming to himself, Illya opened the door after turning off the alarms. No need to awaken any neighbors. Flipping on the light, he made for the freezer when he was startled by a dark-haired man holding a gun on him.

"Napoleon! I'm sorry, but I did not think you would be home. I have run out of vodka...."

"You and Mark must have had a good time."

"I'm not sure I would say that, considering the occasion. You should have joined us--if you did not have plans."

Flushing slightly, the CEA lowered the gun. "Uh, I was out but I came back early. I didn't feel like brainless chatter."

Kuryakin's blue eyes took in his partner's tired face. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm fine. I just haven't been sleeping too well."

"I see. Why don't you join me in a nightcap? Perhaps that would help?"

"What a gracious host you are, Illya--especially with my liquor."

Stung by the tone, the Russian closed the freezer door and started to leave.

"Wait, Illya, I'm sorry. I'm just in a foul mood. Pour yourself a drink and I'll have brandy."

Efficiently, Number Two, Section Two did just that, Sitting down on the couch, Napoleon swallowed his drink in two swift gulps.

"Napoleon, is there anything wrong besides your insomnia?"

The CEA glanced up at the blond who was stil standing while holding his drink. "What do you mean?"

"I know April's...death was difficult for you. I thought that at one time there might have been...more between the two of you than friendship."

Solo looked into the brandy glass as if he expected it to be miraculously filled. "I...we did date a couple of times, but then I realized April and I were too much alike."

"What?"

"April always put her career number one. She made it clear that she didn't want anyone to think that she had advanced so far because she was sleeping with me."

"How did you feel about that?"

"Oh hell, Illya, you know me. I really didn't want a committment either. It was pleasant to be with someone I could trust not to knife me in the back, but I knew I didn't love her--and she didn't deserve to be my sometime-playmate."

"Then, you were wise not to continue, my friend."

"So I keep telling myself, but then I keep wondering that if she and I...had still been together, maybe I could have talked her out of taking on that assignment."

The blond laughed. "Oh Napoleon, you are naive. April Dancer did what she wanted to do and even if you had been Napoleon and Josephine, she would still have carried out her duty."

Chagrined, the brunet finally had to agree. "I suppose you're right. I just wish...."

Sitting down next to his partner, Illya looked straight into the brown eyes. "Napoleon, there was nothing you could do and you know it. As long as you are CEA, you will have to give orders which may result in someone dying."

"Maybe it's a good thing then that one day I'll move up to Section One."

"Do you think it will be any easier sitting in Mr. Waverly's chair? No, Napoleon, we do what we must and try to keep the losses to a minimum."

Solo nodded. "I know you're right, but I hope I don't have to go through this again anytime soon."

The Russian smiled. "Neither do I. You're not that easy to work with at anytime, and this last month you have been as surly as a grizzly bear."

"Hmm! That's still not as bad as a certain Russian bear I know!"

"We can argue the merits of those two beasts some other time. Now, I am going home and I want you to get some sleep."

The cocoa-brown eyes stared into the crystalline blue ones. " Illya...do you...could you......" He hesitated trying to find the right words.

"What is it, Napoleon? Just ask me."

"Would you consider staying in the guest room tonight? I think I'd sleep much better if you were here in the apartment with me."

"If that's what it takes, then I will be glad to. Just remember, Mr. Waverly is expecting us in his office at 8:00 AM."

"I'll remember. Thanks, Partner."

"You're most welcome, Partner."

*

At 3:00 AM Illya Kuryakin woke. Just for an instant, he lay there puzzled by the different bedroom until he remembered--Napoleon had asked him to stay in the guest room. Listening to the quiet, he tried to return to sleep, but a prickle down his spine said that there was something wrong. Then it struck him that the door was closed. He had deliberately left it open because he preferred it that way. Now, the door was closed.

Getting up cautiously, Illya opened the door; there was a light coming from the living room.

The slight blond moved stealthily into the huge room, only to see his partner standing at the window, looking out.

The Russian almost turned around and returned to bed since he now knew that there was no threatening meanace, but the slump of Solo's broad shoulders stopped him. "Napoleon, are you all right?" he ventured.

"I...I'm sorry if I woke you. I closed your door so the light wouldn't shine in."

"You couldn't sleep?"

"I keep thinking about...."

"About April?"

The brunet turned sharply. "No, not about Mark's partner--about mine."

"Me? But I am fine."

Solo nodded. "You are now, but I dream and it's you on that boat. It's you for whom I have to give the eulogy."

"Napoleon, you've always known that it was possible, just as I've always known that I might lose you."

The CEA moved towards the other man. "Of course, that's true, but I've always thought we were too good, too lucky. April was alone. She didn't have Mark as backup. I should have sent him in sooner."

"Then both of them would be dead."

The brown eyes clenched shut. "It wouldn't be so bad if it happened to the two of us, but to lose just you...."

The blond slipped closer so that he could see the haunted face, even in the dim light. "Napoleon, I will always protect your back."

"I know, but what happens when I'm no longer your partner? Who will protect you then?"

The Russian smiled. "I have been taking care of myself for many years. I am a survivor as you well know. By the time, you have to retire from enforcement, I will only have a year or so to go myself. Perhaps, Mark and I could be partnered for that brief time?"

"You like Mark, don't you?"

"Of course. He never made me feel as if I was some Communist spy who shouldn't be with UNCLE."

"I...I was hard on you when you first came to New York, wasn't I? It was just that I preferred to work alone--then."

"As did I, Napoleon. Perhaps you were somewhat aloof, but that soon passed. I know I'm not the easiest partner...."

Solo laughed. "You can say that again, my friend. For awhie there, I thought I was going to have to tell Mr, Waverly that the partnership wasn't going to work."

Dismay crossed the Russian's face. "I...I had no idea. I knew we didn't mesh right away. Your habit of seducing anyone of the female sex was not conducive to trusting you--especially when it was someone like Angelique."

Grimly, the CEA regarded his friend. "It was just sex. I used it to release stress and tension, although I did try to give satisfaction."

"I'm sure you did or at least so I've heard."

"It...it just doesn't work so well anymore, particularly this past month."

"Perhaps you should talk to the medical department?"

"And let the shrinks at me!? NO!"

"Maybe you should ask Mr. Waverly for some vacation time? You could go somelace warm and just relax."

"Dammit, Illya! Haven't you been listening? If I go away, who would watch your back? What if you needed me and I was lying on some beach, fucking a woman?"

"Napoleon, we have been on missions alone bfore."

The brunet shook his head. "I'm sorry, Illya, I shouldn't have bothered you with this. It's my problem."

The slender blond moved as close as possible to his friend. "We are partners so it is OUR problem. I think you need to get some sleep now. Tomorrw, I wIll talk to Mr. Waverly. Perhaps we can have time off at the same time then you can relax."

"You'd go on vacation with me?"

Surprise flickered in the blue eyes. "I did not realize that is what you meant."

"If you don't want to..."

"We can talk about it after Mr. Waverly gives permission. Now go to bed."

Napoleon nodded. There was still a crease between the brown eyes, but at least the slumped shoulders had straightened. "Goodnight, my..er.... See you in the morning."

At 6:00 AM the CEA's communicator trilled in the early morning air. Eyes snapping open, Solo answered immediately. "Solo here."---

"Mr. Solo, please report to headquarters as soon as possible. Mr. Waverly has an urgent assignment."---

"Right. What about Mr, Kuryakn?"---

"I'll alert him. Channel D out."---

An answering trill came from the guest bedroom as the two agents quickly made themselves ready to answer Waverly's summons.

By 6:30, they were at UNCLE headquarters where they found their chief waiting for them. "Good Morning, Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin, please come with me."

The two agents followed Waverly to the infirmary where they entered one of he small rooms. Sitting upright in the snowy-white bed was April Dancer. The amazement on the faces of the two male agents was obvious. Napoleon moved towards the bed whereas Illya hung back.
"April, you certainly are a beautiful ghost!"

"Ahem! Miss Dancer has had a miraculous escape. I will let her impart the circumstances. After you talk with her, please return to my office for your assignment."

The urbane UNCLE chief had no more than departed than the CEA took the slender raven-haired woman into a hug. "So tell us what happened!"

Sighing, April admitted, "Well, it wasn't one of my finest moments. I wasn't even on the yacht when it blew up. I was the prisoner of Gerta Bauer."

"Name doesn't ring a bell."

"She's some kind of mid-level THRUSHIE with delusions that she's going to take over the Number One spot. She actually thought she might recruit me by saying that under her leadership, women would finally come into their own and not be slaves to men like they are at UNCLE."

Napoleon chortled. "You, a slave?"

"I know; ridiculous, isn't it? She kept me under tight security until two days ago when she was called to their headquarters. I gather things have been rather chaotic there since the yacht exploded. Anyway, her guards were less dedicated and I managed to escape. I've been walking since then."

"From where?"

"New Jersey and my feet are killing me! Of course, I didn't have my communicator with me--and no money!"

"She didn't hurt you, did she?"

"I'm fine. Now, you'd better go see Mr. Waverly. I have an urgent call into my partner. He really went back to London?"

Napoleon nodded. "I don't think he could face being here without his partner."

At that moment, the phone rang. From April's joyful squeal, it was apparent that the voice on the other end was that of Mark Slate. Solo and Kuryakin just waved to the young woman as they let her have some privacy.

In Waverly's office, they were informed that they were to proceed to the former site of April Dancer's imprisonment on the slight hope that Gerta Bauer was still there or that there might have been some information left behind. That there might be a power struggle going on in THRUSH Central was of definite interest to Number One, Section One.

Unfortunately, by the time the two agents had arrived, the birds had flown as had any data that they might have had with them. Returning to headquarters, Napoleon reported their failure to Waverly who was definitely not pleased, but was generous enough to admit that it was only to be expected.

After completing his report, Solo went to find his partner who was in the lab. Since it was already late afternoon, Napoleon suggested that the two of them leave early and have an early dinner together. Illya hesitantly agreed but stated that he still needed another half-hour to complete his lab paperwork. The dark-haired agent told his friend that he would meet him in April's room when the Russian scientist was done.

As soon as Solo arrived in April's room, the lovely young woman announced that she was leaving for London the next day. Mark was on an assignment that would take another two weeks, then the two were to have a holiday together before returning to New York. It was obvious from her dark, sparkling eyes, how much she was looking forward to the reunion with Mark Slate. The two agents continued to chat for a bit, then just as Illya Kuryakin enterd the room, Solo kissed the woman and wished her a safe trip.

During the drive back to their apartment building, the older man filled Illya in on April's trip. Since both men were tired from the restless night before, they decided to pick up a pizza from one of their favorite places. That and a couple of cold beers would satisfy their hunger.

Only fifteen minutes after finishing the last slice, Illya stood up to stretch and indicated that he would go so that Napoleon could relax on his own. The CEA also stood up at the same time as the blond headed for the door. "Illya?...."

Kuryakin turned to face him. "I'm sure April and Mark will be back
soon."

"Illya?..."

Again the blond interrupted. "I talked to Mr. Waverly about the vacation. He said we could have a week. You should make your reservations now."

"I thought you were willing to go with me?"

"I'm sure that your nightmares will be better now that April is back."

"I told you, it wasn't Mark's partner, I dreamt about."

"So you said, but that doesn't mean that I should interfere with your vacation."

"Interfere? You have never interfered. Sometimes I've wished that you would--that you would take the time to tel me what you're thinking. Those blue eyes of yours hide everything. Don't you care about anyone or anything, besides UNCLE? You don't even try to make friends. If a
bomb wiped out everybody, but you, I think you'd be happy!"

The normally, stoic Russian paled. "I...I thought we were friends."

Napoleon pacing stopped. The pain in the cerulean eyes registered with him for the first time. "Sorry. I know you like Mark and April. I'm not sure what you feel about me."

Consternation flooded the slender figure. "We are partners. I trust and respect you."

Solo ran his fingers through his dark hair. "Trust and respect? You trust and respect Mr. Waverly."

The shaggy blond head nodded. "Yes but not in the same way."

The CEA hesitated, then moved closer to the other man. He reached out one hand to brush a blond thatch from the wide forehead. His hand slowly moved down one temple, across the perfect cheekbones, just touching the determined jawline until it stopped just beside the full
lips. "I want more than your trust and respect."

"I...I don't understand."

Leaning down, Napoleon lightly kissed Illya.

The Russian did not flinch nor did he pull away; however, he also did not respond. He mereely watched as his senior partner gazed at him, desire in his eyes.

"Now, do you understand?"

Shifting slightly from one foot to the other, Kuryakin questioned, " You want to have sex with me?"

"Yes but...."

The slender man waved off the rest impatiently. "Very well. If that will reassure you, I agree." Walking into Napoleon's luxurious bedroom, the blond began to strip off his clothes.

Dumbfounded by the turn of events, Solo hesitated only a moment before he followed his partner into the room where he found him already naked, lying on the bed. In fact, Illya was on his stomach, legs spread, waiting for Napoleon to take him.

The American's cock hardened as he saw the white, muscular body. It was all he could do not to reach out and squeeze the invitingly taut butt.

Mesmerized by the dazzling body, Napoleon slowly disrobed himself. As he moved closer, Kuryakin turned his face toward his partner, taking in the bobbing erection. "Let me make you wet, Napoleon."

By now the senior agent felt that nothing could surprise him about his friend, but as the hunger and scorching heat of the Russian's mouth engulfed his aching cock, his knees almost buckled. He knew that much more of the fervent suckng would cause him to explode. "Illya, stop. I
want...I want...."

The lithe blond knew what he wanted so once again he splayed his legs wide apart.

Driven with need, Solo thrust the tip of his shaft into the beautiful body. A slight whimper stopped him. He waited for the other man to adjust and then with one smooth thrust was all the way in. A convulsive shudder struck the smaller man as the brunet began to thrust in earnest.
Lost in the pleasure of the tight tunnel, Napoleon Solo moved into the sensuous rhythm of his own needy body until his desire for completion overwhelmed him as he spurted large amounts of cum into his partner.

Sinking down onto the slight back, Solo lay still until his organ dwindled and he could pull free, only to roll over on his back. It took some minutes for his heart to return to its normal pace after the monumental orgasm. He did not even open his eyes until he felt movement next to him.

Illya Kuryakin stood up and went over to retrieve his clothes. "Goodnight, Napoleon. I'll see you at the office on Monday."

_____________
An Epilogue might possibly follow.