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svetlanacat6
Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each other's eyes for an instant?"
Henry David Thoreau
Silent night.
Deserted night.
The night meant darkness, peaceful darkness.
But he was alone.
He was sitting on the roof. He looked. He looked around. He looked at the sky. He could discern every star. He could stare at them. Safely.
It had been such an ordinary day, at the UNCLE headquarter. Tomorrow would be one more ordinary day.
The NY UNCLE headquarter and his new strange animal.
Illya Kuryakin was not the paranoiac one. He would come in Del Floria's shop, then in the HQ. And it would start, again.
She peeped at him, as he came closer. Quickly, discreetly. She smiled at him, politely, handing his ID. And she peeped again. He could ignore her. He could smile at her. She peeped.
Then, he walked towards his small office. He met people, of course. They gave him a nod, and he answered with a nod. They averted their eyes, but then, they examined him. He could feel it. A twinge in his neck. They eyed him from head to toe.
And he could hear them.
How strange! How blond! How young! How Russian!
A Russian? Are you sure? A defector?
No! A Russian, I tell you! A Soviet! A real one!
His eyes! How blue! A communist, are you sure?
A Commie! Yes, a red one!
Of course, they didn't say a word.
He was unfair, and perhaps paranoiac. They were polite, all of them. Some of them looked at him, just inquiringly. Some of them were even compassionate. A few one paid attention to him.
He was a strange animal. They were right.
He lay on the roof.
Would he ever be able to merge into them?
Did he want to?
Would he manage to live, to survive, there? Yes. Of course, yes. They could gape at him. He didn't mind. They could glare at him. He would cope with that.
Tomorrow. Another day. One more ordinary day at the UNCLE HQ. Or not. Alexander Waverly would perhaps assign a mission to him. Something to do, at last. Illya Kuryakin chuckled. No chance. The top section 2 agent was back. He had successfully fulfilled a very difficult assignment. Again those knowing looks towards him. The Russian would see. The Commie would have to be careful. Napoleon Solo was back.
He had not met him, but he would surely bump into the man in the corridor. Sooner or la...
It was not a cat. Or a very big one. But it moved very silently. Not enough, anyway. Illya Kuryakin took hold of his gun, rolling over.
“Illya Kuryakin?”
The man took some steps forward. The Russian stood up, keeping his eyes on him. A dark haired, genuinely smiling man who was showing his hands. No gun.
“My name is Napoleon Solo. The Old Man, Mr Waverly want to see us, immediately. I came to pick you up.”
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Date: 2011-08-10 06:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-10 07:56 am (UTC)Thank you for reading...