Not All Fun and Games
by Charlie Kirby

"But it will be fun."

"I said no and I am not kidding, Napoleon. Absolutely not. The subject is closed." Illya carefully knotted his tie, flicking his eyes from the bureau mirror to his partner and back. For his part, Napoleon was pacing and fuming the length of the small room Illya had claimed as his. Even though they been rooming together for many years, there were still times when each man needed his own space. They'd been at this discussion for half an hour now and tempers were fraying.

"It isn't like this would be a first time experience. They have done it before. Napoleon had pointed this out previously, but apparently felt justified in repeating it.

"And they've also refused on occasion. I would have to provide the security and we are stretched thin as it is. To think of closing down an entire theme park just for you... it's a gross abuse of power."

"It's not fair."

"You sound like a petulant child, Napoleon."

"I beg your pardon?"

"No, I correct myself. You're worse than Irina and she's only five." Illya strapped on his shoulder holster and settled his jacket over it. Then he went to the gun safe and withdrew his Walther. He'd initially been hesitant to lock up his and Napoleon's weapons. It had only taken one uncomfortable moment when he'd nearly pulled the weapon on Alex after the boy crawled in bed with him one night to change his mind. He no longer slept with a weapon.

"At times I think you forget who your boss is."

"On the contrary, I never forget; I never allow myself to, not for a moment. One of my sworn duties is to protect and keep this organization secure to the best of my abilities, even to the sacrifice of my own life. Perhaps it is you who needs to be reminded of the chain of command."

"Don't be ridiculous, there is no one above me."

"Exactly my point." Illya slapped in a clip and chambered a round. He double-checked the safety and slid the weapon into its holster. "And I suggest you contemplate that while I'm gone."

Illya stormed out of the set of rooms they shared and headed down the stairs. As a matter of course, he kept one hand on the banister. His hip was better, but it wasn't perfect and he had no intention of taking a header down a flight of stairs and reinjuring it, not after all the surgery and pain he'd just gone through.

As he hit the second floor, he moved quickly but quietly, avoiding the toys that were strewn about, a toddler obstacle course. He hated leaving so late in the evening, but it was imperative that he be at headquarters before they tried to take down that current regime in northern Serbia. There were days when he was so ready to toss in the towel and let younger men fight this battle, but as long as Napoleon occupied the Big Chair, Illya was committed to protecting him. Since in all likelihood Napoleon, like Waverly, would die at that desk, so Illya's path was dictated. He would drop in his traces.

Illya paused now to look in on his grandchildren. He'd never expected to have children, much less grandchildren, in his life. Alex, a big boy of six now, already showing signs of a future agent, studious, observant, he'd inherited Napoleon's ability to strategize and Illya's focus on details. But he still slept with a teddy bear. Irina, nearly lost in a sea of stuffed toys and dolls, already had a vocabulary larger than some adults and was displaying a gift for languages.

Illya closed her door behind him and stopped. Something was nagging at him, playing with his finely honed senses. He couldn't wait for the family to leave so he could bring in a clean-up squad and have it go through the house. He knew their apartment was clean. He went through it weekly as a matter of course.

He reached for his leather coat and smiled at the bulge in one pocket. He pulled out the doll bonnet, a tea cup, a pink sock, and two plastic soldiers. One thing about living with kids is that you never have the same day twice. He already missed the days during his recovery when he'd had to play with them and watch them grow, but he was fully recovered now and back to work full time. His hand drifted down to rest upon his scarred hip. He tossed the toys onto the counter and slid on the jacket. It was time to start cracking the whip one both his agents and himself.

Napoleon startled awake to feel a presence nestled against his side. It had been many years since a young lady crawled into bed with him and snuggled. At the soft sniffle, he frowned and turned on a lamp. He winced at the suddenly brightness and then lifted the sheet to look underneath it at his granddaughter. Rarely did either of his older grandchildren crawl into bed with him. For one reason or another, Illya seemed to be the grandfather of choice for their midnight visits.

"Irina, what are you doing here?"

"Poppy's run away from home. She rubbed an eye with one fist as a huge tear escaped. "He doesn't love us anymore."

"What? What do you mean?" Napoleon sat up and pulled the child onto his lap. "What are you talking about?"

"I just went to see him and he's gone. He's not in here either ..." A huge theatrical sniff. "He doesn't want to play anymore and he yells at me...."

"It's not that he doesn't want to play, sweetheart. He had to go back to work. He's under a lot of stress right now, that's all." He caressed her hair gently. "He's busy keeping us safe."

"I don't want to be safe; I want to play." She started to sob again. "It's not fair."

Illya's right, I did sort of sound like this earlier. He knew Illya had a point. It wasn't like he really had any business asking Disney World to close its doors just for him and his, but his heart ached at the thought of not being able to join the family on their vacation. To not stand on the sidelines and applaud as Alex rode the teacups or bemoan one more trip through "It's a Small World" with his granddaughter made his heart ache.

Napoleon had to admit that more and more these days, he longed for a normal life. He wanted to be able to move freely, do and go what and where he wanted to without concern. In the old days, it had been just THRUSH, now there was a world of enemies waiting to take the major players of UNCLE out of the game. They'd just lost the head of UNCLE - SE Asia to an assassin's bullet and that had made his bulldog of a partner even more protective.

"I know you want to have fun, that's a good thing. As a little girl, your world is tea parties and dress up. But Illya... Poppy isn't a little girl, Irina."

"He used to be..."

"I think he'd take issue with that, sweetheart." Napoleon couldn't help but chuckle and hold his granddaughter closer. "But I do know he loves you very, very much and doesn't want anything to happen to any of us." He kissed her dark hair. "Do you understand?"

"No..."

Napoleon settled her down beside him. "So why were you going to visit Poppy now?"

"There's a monster under my bed. I wanted him to make it go away."

"I see." Napoleon didn't see or rather his ego didn't. "Why didn't you come and get me?"

"Grampy, Mommy says you're a lover, not a fighter." Irina started to pick at the bed clothes, adjusting them so the pattern on the sheet lay just so.

"She does, does she?"

"Uh huh."

"And your other grandfather?"

"She said he is a scrappy little shit."

"Irina! Young ladies don't use that language."

"But Mommy..."

"Isn't a young lady."

"She says he has special talents..."

"Why do you need Poppy's special talents to make the monster go away?"

"I can hear it whispering... " Her voice dropped, taking on a more adult, less childlike quality. "No, they don't know I'm here... I'm waiting for your signal... t-minus forty and counting... the child is asleep." She sighed and nestled closer to him. "He talks all the time now." Her voice returned to normal.

"What?" Napoleon was suddenly all attention. Forty what? It was forty days before the family left on its vacation. "Irina, are you making this up?" He grabbed her arms and held her firmly. "Are you pretending?"

"I thought he was Teddy at first. He'd tell me to go back to sleep, that I was dreaming, but now... he says scary things, Grampy... about what will happen when we go see Mickey. You and Poppy are going away forever." Her eyes started to fill again. "I don't want to see Mickey, Grampy, I want you." The tears were flowing in earnest now.

Napoleon held her tightly and swallowed, trying to clear his mind of the rage that was pounding through it. He could feel the bile rising in his throat. They weren't going to get the chance to take his family.

"Irina, I need you to be very, very brave right now. Can you do that?" He waited for her reluctant nod. Quickly he found a scrap of paper in the nightstand and a pencil. He'd scribbled something and handed it to her. "I want you to go wake up Alex and give this to him, then I want both of you to come straight back here as fast as you can. Can you do that for me?"

Her brow wrinkled, but she took a deep shuddering breath and took the piece of paper. "I'm scared of the monster, Grampy."

"Me too, sweetheart, but the monster is hiding under your bed and it won't come out right now. Go get Alex."

He closed his eyes, praying that he was doing the right thing. He rose and quickly changed from his pajamas into pants and a shirt. He went to the safe and with a hand that trembled from too much adrenaline he worked the combination and pulled out his Walther. It had been years since he'd worn it, although he routinely qualified.

The minutes dragged by and Napoleon was nearly out of his skin when a familiar tousled blond head poked around the bedroom door jam. Irina's eyes widened when she saw the gun.

"Irina gave me your note. I'm reporting for duty." Alex glared at his little sister, trying to drag his hand from her grip. "Get off me, Irina."

"Good boy, Alex." Napoleon let out a deep sigh. "I want you to both crawl into Poppy's bed and stay there, all right? You need to protect your little sister. It's what's big brothers do."

"From what, Grampy?" He looked around at the small room Napoleon and Illya used as a living room. "We're home, nothing can hurt us here. You said so."

"I wish that were the case, Alex, but I made a mistakes. Go get into bed now."

"But..." Irina started, but Napoleon shook his head.

"Now, both of you, hip hop." He used his best CEA voice and it had the desired effect.

They scurried off and Napoleon reached for his communicator. He went to the main door of their apartment and locked it. When Illya had insisted upon additional security measures, Napoleon had scoffed. Once locked down, it would take a case of dynamite to break through that door and all the windows were bullet proof glass. Their electrical and phones lines were separate from the main house and secured by the best UNCLE had to offer. Napoleon had chided Illya; now he silently thanked him.

"Open Channel R. please."

Again, the minutes plodded by and finally he heard his son's groggy voice...

"What? This had better be an emergency... I just got home."

Napoleon kept his voice soft. There was no telling where other monitoring devices were planted. With the exception of their rooms, the entire house was vulnerable. "Agent Solo, this is your chief. You need to listen to me and not ask any questions. You need to move quickly and quietly without comment. I want you and Lisle to bring the twins to me. I have the junior agents with me already and we are discussing the departure plans. That's something I think you'll all enjoy here with me. Solo out."

He set the communicator aside and waited, hoping beyond hope that his son just for once listened to orders. If he started grumbling and complaining, it could all be over in a matter of moments.

His communicator beeped and Napoleon felt his heart clench.

"Solo here."

"We're outside the door, Chief."

Even then Napoleon checked first before letting them in. Lisle walked in quickly carrying Inessa. Leon carried Peter and a very concerned expression. He handed the baby to his wife and faced his father. Once the door was bolted, Napoleon embraced him, holding him tightly.

"Thank God you listened to me for a change."

"Love you too, Dad, but what the hell's going on?"

"We have a problem, but now that you're safe in here, we can get it sorted out." He released the man and patted the heads of the still sleeping babies. "Why don't you put them in Illya's room?"

Napoleon hated making the call to headquarters. Mostly because it proved what Illya was saying was true. He hated that his family was constantly being put in jeopardy because of what he did and who he was. He hated not being just like everyone else and dealing with petty problems. Mostly he hated what this was going to do to his partner. It was unlikely that Illya would pull himself from the line of fire on this one. The thought of Illya being in the field shook Napoleon to his very core. He wasn't field certified anymore, but that wouldn't matter to the Russian.

The evening passed slowly, the two older children fell back asleep and the twins never woke up. All four settled into Illya's bed as if this was just another night. Napoleon put on coffee and kept his attention split between staring at his communicator, then the door and then back. Leon and Lisle took turns pacing, alternating raging with worrying.

The sun was creeping through a window when Napoleon's communicator beeped.

"Solo here."

"Everything's clear, you can come out now." Illya's voice sounded strained and choppy, almost flat without any emotion.

"Illya, is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine... and that thing before? Do what you want; it's okay with me."

"Thanks, Solo out."

Leon grinned and slapped his hands together. "Well, all's well and all that crap." He started to walk towards the door, but his father caught his arm.

"No, I don't think so." Napoleon's voice froze him to the spot. "That wasn't Illya."

"What makes you say that?" Lisle asked. "Of course, that was him. I recognized his voice."

"It was, but it wasn't. You've known your father just a short time; I've known him much longer. He never concedes in a fight. He was being forced to say that. In either case, it was not right. Someone is trying to lure us out of here and he was telling us quite clearly to stay put."

"But if they've got Dad..." Lisle flicked an uneasy eye towards the door. "And he's... sacrificing..."

"He's doing his job, Lisle. Focus on that. Illya is paying a high price to tell us to sit tight." Napoleon caught her hand and squeezed it. "Don't count him out. I believe I was told you thought he was a scrappy little shit..."

"Who told you...? Irina?" At Napoleon's nod, she offered a slight smile, so reflective of her father it made Napoleon's heart ache. "It's like living with a human recorder."

"Be thankful, she was the one who tipped me off to the trouble to begin with. She's got quite a gift for mimicry."

The communicator sounded again.

"Napoleon?" Illya sounded normal again.

"Solo here..."

"You're all still safe?"

"Yes."

"Stay put, I'll come to you."

"Are you...?" The communicator went dead in his hand and Napoleon smiled. "That was your father."

A few minutes later, there was a soft tap to the door, sharp and short, followed by another and then two. Napoleon tapped once and waited. Two more short taps followed and he undid the locks, his gun still trained on the opening as a disheveled Illya pushed through.

"Damn, partner." Napoleon took in the torn and blood-splattered clothes, being careful to keep his concern out of his voice for the sake of their children. "Looks like you had a helluva party."

"That it was," Illya said, sounding as if he was on his last leg. Lisle moved to embrace him, but Illya held up his hand stopping her. "I'm sorry about downstairs. Send the bill to UNCLE or give it to your father-in-law. Either way, he's going to be signing the check." He glanced around. "Where are the children?"

"Asleep in your bed."

"All safe?"

"Yes, thankfully."

Make them leave, Illya mouthed as he limped past Napoleon toward the man's bedroom.

"Leon, why don't you take charge downstairs? I'll send the kids down when they wake up."

"What about Illya?" Leon watched the bedroom door close.

"You take care of your world; I'll take care of mine. Go."

Napoleon watched the young people walk slowly from the room, wincing as he heard them pushing aside things. He knew the room had been sound deadened, he just hadn't realized to what degree. Apparently World War III had been raging just outside. After checking to make sure the children were all still sleeping soundly, he headed back to his bedroom.

Illya was staring out a window and glanced over his shoulder at the sound of Napoleon's entering.

"You okay?" Napoleon came to stand behind him, not quite touching, but close enough to offer support.

"We were so careful and it was so close. Too damn close, Napoleon; a few minutes and the whole family, our whole family, could have been gone. I knew something was wrong, but I was lulled into a false sense of security. Not here, it couldn't happen here, we were safe here. Fool!" He slapped the wall beside the window hard enough to make a nearby picture jump. Napoleon studied the skinned knuckles. That meant some hand to hand. It also didn't escape him that Illya was standing oddly, keeping his weight off his newly repaired hip and was holding one arm protectively close to his body.

"But they aren't. They're safe; I'm safe. Do you need a doctor?"

"What? No. Would you mind if I borrow your bed for a couple of hours? Mine is very crowded at the moment and I'm not up to anymore territorial disputes right now."

"You even have to ask after all these years?"

Illya started to struggle out of the coat he'd slipped into so easily just hours before. Napoleon quietly helped him take it off, watching Illya squeeze his eyes shut as he eased his left arm from the sleeve. Napoleon sucked air through his teeth at the blotches already visible through the thin white shirt.

"Illya?" He carefully touched Illya's side.

"Sorry about your nine iron." Illya touched a rib and grimaced. "I was tougher than it."

"Are you sure you don't want a doctor?"

"Not right now, just some peace and quiet in which I can lick my wounds."

Napoleon helped Illya strip down to his shorts and watched the man lower himself onto the bed like a swimmer into an ice-cold pond. While Illya was adjusting the blankets, Napoleon went to the medicine cabinet and hunted around for some pain killers that Illya had left over from his hip surgery. He collected an all too familiar mix of ointments, bandages and tape, and returned to the bed.

He offered the pills, a glass of water, and a no-nonsense look to the Russian. Illya downed the pills and stared up at the ceiling as Napoleon dragged a chair close and sat down to render first aid as carefully as he could.

"You were right." Napoleon said. "I thought I was impervious to attack... at least here. Guess I underestimated the risk."

"We both did. We were extremely lucky...this time..."

"What should we do now, Illya? Move away?"

"I don't think that would make them any safer. It would just make it harder to protect them." Illya probed a cheek with his finger and reached into his mouth, withdrawing a false tooth and setting it next to his communicator. "Before I swallow this and have to go looking for it," he explained unnecessarily. "Not the way I want to spend tomorrow..."

Napoleon chuckled, short and hard. "What do we do, Illya?"

"The best we can and hope that it's enough. I'll have Lisle take the kids to the movies or something and bring a team in. When they go on vacation, I'll start to retrofit things. I can't make the entire house a safe room, but we can come pretty close." Illya gasped as Napoleon took his arm.

"This looks broken."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"Do you want me to try and set it?"

"No, it's pretty straight and a couple of hours won't make any difference. I'll report to Medical when I wake up." Napoleon wrapped an elastic bandage as tightly as he dared around the limb. "Don't tell the kids what happened. Let Leon and Lisle handle it. Agent Hanson is downstairs ready to take you into HQ until we round up the rest of those... bas..."

Illya trailed off and Napoleon glanced sharply at him. The drugs couldn't have worked that fast. Then he felt a hand on his leg. "Grampy?"

"Good morning, sweetheart." He picked Irina up and hugged her.

"Poppy!" She started to struggle and Napoleon held onto her.

"No, Irina, not right now."

"It's okay, Napoleon," Illya voice was getting soft around the edges now, his breathing deeper. "This is part of what makes it worth fighting for."

"So what's the other part?"

Illya managed a slight smile and grunted as Irina cuddled up to him. "Blockhead."

And Napoleon decided he could live with that.