A New Lease on Life
by Charlie Kirby

Napoleon looked out over the sea of faces and shook his head in wonder. He'd been the first Section One, Number One from the New York office to not actually die in his traces. Mr. Allison and Mr. Waverly, both men had died while still working. The first from a stroke at his desk, the second from a host of ailments collected during his employment with UNCLE. Mr. Waverly had collapsed during a Summit Five meeting. Napoleon decided that the body had just been worn out by the brain.

He remembered getting that phone call. Illya was still convalescing and Napoleon was struggling to handle Section Two and keep Illya to his physical therapy schedule. When the call came, he both welcomed the change and dreaded it. How could anyone be a better Section One Number One than Alexander Waverly?

Napoleon remembered the wake and the funeral, a somber, tight-lipped affair. The tension in the room had been thick enough to cut with a knife and much of it was because of him. It had been a farewell none of them had anticipated happening quite so soon. No one knew if he could handle the job, not even Napoleon.

Then the years sped by and now many of the same people were here to say goodbye to him. However the difference was that his successor was trained and very ready to take the reins from him. There were no unasked questions or loose ends to tie up. Napoleon was leaving at the top of his game and with the organization in good shape. And he was leaving while still on this side of the sod.

The hotel had done a lovely job of decking out the ballroom for the dinner and he felt quite flattered by the show of force. With all five Section Ones in the same room, Illya had pulled in everything and everyone he had to keep them all safe. However Napoleon liked to think it was all for him.

His gaze rested upon his son to his left. Leon looked quite the roguish devil in his tux and Napoleon smiled fondly. How many events had Napoleon been to, dressed to the nines just as his son was now? The difference was that Napoleon would have been prowling, anxious to make a conquest among the guests. Leon would happily go home with his wife to their houseful of children.

Many thought Leon would be the one to take over from Napoleon, but the father knew better. Leon's skills were not in leadership; they were in strategy and subterfuge. And at night, Leon was right where he needed to be, with his wife and family. He didn't need to be chained to a desk with the weight of UNCLE on his shoulders. Being a father and married to Illya's daughter were enough for any one man to handle.

That led Napoleon to Lisle. There seemed to be the same connection between son and daughter as existed between their fathers. Lisle was to Leon just as Illya was to Napoleon—two halves perfectly matched. Lisle's gown fit in all the right places and more than one man did a double take this evening. Napoleon was amazed that she still looked in her twenties and certainly not like a matron with five children. It must be the Kuryakin blood in her for she never seemed to age. It was nice to see her and Leon having an evening to themselves.

Then he looked right and spotted Illya. Napoleon's smile widened as he watched Illya speaking softly with his Number Two in command. A second later, Illya pulled back and blinked, then looked at Napoleon, a question in his eyes. Napoleon shook his head slightly. Even now, their connection was as strong as ever. It amazed Napoleon that after all these years, they were still so in tune with each other or perhaps it was because of their shared past.

Taking a breath, Napoleon stood and the conversation in the room settled into an expectant silence.

"To say I never expected to be here is a gross understatement. When I started with UNCLE, some of you were not yet born. I never anticipated that one day I would run the very organization that took a chance with a hotshot agent. To say it's been a wild ride would equally be an understatement. It's been incredible to be a part of that. Frankly, I'm amazed that Accounting didn't out me years ago."

"We tried," came a shout from the back. Napoleon laughed and pointed at the man.

"I swear I will find those expense reports before I leave tonight." He waited for the laughter to quiet. "I have worked with some great men and women, many of them are sadly no longer with us except in memory. For every man and woman in this room, there are a dozen who made the ultimate sacrifice for our organization."

He paused and took a sip of water as applause drowned out his words. Illya had folded his hands in front of him, just as he had done so many times at that circular table when Waverly was speaking. For an instant, the years shifted and then Napoleon continued.

"Like all of you, I've sacrificed, lost, and fought, but there has always been a constant in my life. Mr. Waverly called me into his office one day and told me I was getting a partner. I didn't want one and argued with him. But Mr. Waverly was not a man who compromised and the next thing I knew I was saddled with this wet-behind-the ears Russian agent." He glanced over at Illya amid the laughter.

"Not so wet," Illya mouthed and Napoleon grinned.

"It was the best thing to ever happen to me, for I found a best friend, a partner, and an equal, all in one. And through it all, he's always been there to watch my back and keep me from harm, no matter the cost to himself, following one step behind me. So, it should come as no surprise that as I retire, he is determined to keep up the trend. So, as my last official act as Section One, Number One of UNCLE North America, Mr. Kuryakin, I'm accepting your resignation from UNCLE. Welcome to the world of the gainfully unemployed."

The applause started again and Napoleon gestured to Illya. He watched the man slowly get to his feet, not so much from a sense of humility as it was pain from having poured concrete for a patio all afternoon. Illya stood for just a moment and then sat down before any calls for a speech could be made, determined to stay in the background even now.

The rest of the evening unfolded as these affairs had so many times before. There was the presentation of a gift of appreciation for his years of service, a couple of short "I remember when" speeches, and the inevitable back thumping and hand shaking.

Napoleon finally managed to work himself free of the crowd. He wasn't surprised to find Illya sequestered off in a corner with his Section Two and Three men. Illya had kept his intention to retire a secret from everyone except Kent Haddock, the man who was succeeding him. For several months, Illya had been training the man, giving over the responsibilities a bit at a time. When Kent walked into UNCLE- North America on Monday, it would be as a fully prepared and enlightened Section Threeh ead.

Napoleon walked up to the group and Leon spotted him and draped an arm over his shoulders. The other agents nodded politely and left them alone.

"I can't believe you really did it, Dad." Leon said. Napoleon grinned at that. Up to this point, Leon had never addressed his father as such. It was always polite and formal. Napoleon appreciated that Leon had never paid the father card at work, but rather treated him as his employer.

"I can't believe I did either. Guess the test will come Monday morning when we don't head in for work."

Lisle walked up to the group, balancing a cup of coffee in one hand, which she passed over to Leon, and a plate of cake that she handed to her father.

"Are you still eating?" Napoleon shook his head.

"It beats the hell out of making petty conversation with tongue-tied agents." Illya set the cake onto a nearby table. "It looks as if the party is starting to wind down."

"And you've got a long drive back tonight." Leon sipped the coffee and frowned. "No sugar?"

"No sugar. You are getting fat." Lisle patted his stomach. She turned to her father. "You, on the other hand, look tired. Are you getting enough sleep?"

"We're staying here in the hotel tonight," Napoleon explained. "I've got to do something to keep him away from that house. Do you know he was up at six this morning, shingling the roof?"

"It's easier to do it while it's cool." Of course the spring days were still pretty cool, even late in the afternoon.

Nearly a year earlier, Napoleon and Illya had purchased several acres outside of a sleepy little New York town. Almost immediately, work had started on a series of houses, three, in fact. One for the two bachelors to share, a second much larger house for Leon, Lisle, and their family, and a guest house for when and if the newlyweds decided to settle down with them in the country.

Napoleon and Illya had concentrated on their place first, moving in even as the paint was still drying. For the first time in years, their nights were quiet and a little lonely, not exactly what either of them expected. It had been a long time since they had not had grandchildren under foot and Napoleon wasn't surprised to discover he didn't like it very much.

They had laid the foundation for the main house and the little house, what would be Alexander's and Genève's, should they want it, the day after the movers left.

They were doing much of the work themselves, something Napoleon found himself enjoying more and more as he became used to physical labor again. His last physical exam had delighted the doctors. He'd lost twenty five pounds, his blood pressure was back to normal, and his cholesterol was perfect. He was drinking less and sleeping more. They proclaimed him to be in fabulous shape for a man half his age.

Likewise, the doctors were impressed with Illya. Even though some things were beyond him, Illya refused to give up. He found ways to work around his restrictions and the confidence it was giving him back was worth more than all the medicine in the world could offer. After being told for so long that he was too old to contribute to society, Illya was discovering that he still had thefire in his furnace to take on just about anything.

"Will you be able to come out this weekend?" Napoleon could hear the hope in Illya's voice. The main house, while still not completely finished, was weather tight and almost completely functional. The interior walls were sheet rocked and the plumbing functional. Leon and Lisle had refused to put their house on the market until the new one was ready. Napoleon and Illya had been working hard to make that happen as quickly as possible.

Even though Illya would be loath to admit it, he was missing the grandchildren intensely. Napoleon knew that was part of what was driving his partner to work so hard. It was good for a man to have a goal.

Leon and Lisle exchanged guilty glances and Leon finally spoke up, "The kids are so busy. Peter's taking ballet and Inessa's starting judo-"

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Napoleon interrupted with a laugh. He was negotiating them towards the elevators. "I can just see Inessa taking everyone to the mat."

"Alex has a game and Irina a sleepover." Lisle finished. "And we are doing our best to keep tabs on all of them." She sighed, shaking her head slowly. "It seems like it's been years since just the two of us have been able to sit and get caught up. Tonight has been fabulous. It was sweet of Genève and Alexander to babysit and miss all of this. It's been nice to have them in the house again. Makes it feel not quite as alone with you two gone. They love your old apartment too."

Napoleon pulled something from his pocket and held it up dangling in front of her.

"What's that?" Leon turned his head sideways to try and read the tag.

"A room key," Napoleon said. "More importantly, your room key. You'll find your luggage has already been delivered. And Genève deserves a medal for doing it without you two getting wind."

"You guys!" Lisle laughed and hugged him and then Illya. "Thank you! A night alone, Leon! What should we do first?"

A smile curled the man's lips. "Oh, I can think of one or two things that might be nice."

"That's my boy," Napoleon said proudly, slapping Leon on the shoulder.

"Just be careful." Illya kissed his daughter's forehead. "The last time you two had time to yourselves, you came back with Ginny in tow."

"No chance of that now, Dad," Lisle said with a laugh and then more quietly added. "We've taken permanent measures. Five kids are more than enough."

"Oh..."

Napoleon could hear the wistfulness in Illya's voice. In spite of his protests to the contrary, Illya was hopelessly in love with babies. It was something Napoleon had never suspected of his partner until Alex, all of a few minutes old, was placed in his arms and the Russian melted completely.

"Well, in that case, the night is still young. How about a drink?" Leon slapped his hands together, but Napoleon shook his head.

"The night may be young, but we are old." Napoleon pointed to the Russian. "He's had me up since the crack of dawn."

"I bet he has..." Lisle said, giggling. Illya tried to look affronted.

"We have a timeline if everything is going to be ready for you this summer," Illya protested, looking glum, but determined.

"So, in view of that timeline, we are going to pass. Come on, old son, it's time to get you to bed." Napoleon planted a hand in the small of Illya's back and propelled him towards the elevator doors as they opened. "We will catch up with you in the morning. Give us a call when you are up and moving about."

"What time? We don't want to wake you." Leon was already tucking his arm about his wife's waist to lead her away.

"No worries about that. Trust me." The door closed and for the first time that evening, Napoleon felt himself relaxing as he punched the button for their floor.

"So it's finally done." Illya was already undoing his bow tie.

"That it is. I think we've left the place in good hands. How did your deprogramming go?"

"Aside from feeling as if I had mice crawling around inside my head for an hour afterwards, fine. You?"

"The same. It's amazing how they can do that."

"Honestly, I'm nearly convinced they really don't do anything. I think it's all smoke and mirrors."

"I'd ask you what Section Five does, but I wouldn't be able to tell if you were telling the truth or making it up." He laughed and then sobered. "We really did it, didn't we?"

Illya nodded. "Shame the kids can't come out for the weekend."

"We knew it would happen, Illya. They were a blur of activity when we lived with them. The only reason we saw them as much as we did was because we shared a roof. Now we're not even in the same county."

"I know, it's just..."

"Me too."

Napoleon woke slowly, luxuriously. The sheets were butter soft and smooth, the bedclothes surrounding him with feather down comfort. This was a slice of heaven, until he tried to move and his back told him just what it thought about the down-topped and soft mattresses.

"Oh, what a night," he murmured and looked around the room. Daylight was outlining the curtains and the room was dim. Their tuxes were haphazardly tossed onto the overstuffed chairs and a bottle of champagne stood, bottom up, attesting to the fact that they'd not quite made it right to bed upon their arrival to the room. Napoleon's head grumbled its dissatisfaction about his having mixed alcohols last evening and his stomach complained that it had been hours since he'd had anything substantial to eat.

Then Napoleon realized there was a light under the bathroom door and he could hear a rumble. Illya had apparently discovered the Jacuzzi jets in the oversized bathtub. It was probably the noise that had woken him, although Napoleon would have lied if asked.

He reached for the phone and dialed room service. After ordering coffee and a light breakfast for them, he struggled from the bedclothes, pulled on his robe, and padded barefoot across the plush carpet. His feet, used to concrete, wood, and linoleum floors, celebrated the luxury.

"Illya?" He tapped on the door and then entered, stopping at the mountain of bubbles that greeted him. "I am assuming you are in there. Somewhere..."

"I am," a voice from deep within the soap mound said.

"I should get the camera—the kids would never believe this. I had an idea that you were going to enjoy that. You know, there's still time to change your mind and swap what we've ordered for one of those instead. The installers aren't due for another week." Napoleon grinned as he headed for the toilet. "Your hip would love you for it."

"You are making a convincing argument." The jets silenced.

Napoleon flushed and walked to the double sink to wash his hands. He ran a hand over his jaw, frowned at the number of gray hairs that had joined their brothers from the day previous. "I ordered breakfast, but take your time. They said twenty, which means thirty, but forty is more like it."

"Excellent." The bubbles parted and Illya's face emerged. "This is a very large bathtub and it's not like we haven't shared before. I'm imagining your back is about as happy as mine was with the mattress."

"It's tough getting old, partner." Napoleon dropped his robe and eased himself into the hot water.

"But it's much easier getting old with someone." Illya tossed him a washcloth and leaned back to slide beneath the surface. He popped up a moment later, his hair plastered to his head, and sighed. "I'd forgotten how nice a bath is."

"Well, at the time, it was really a choice between that and a refrigerator and we did have the shower." Napoleon found the controls to the jets and started them again.

"I know. It was an observation, nothing more. This is nice, thank you for suggesting we spend the evening here."

"Least I could do—it is your retirement we are celebrating too, after all."

"What are we going to do, Napoleon?" There was an odd edge to Illya's tone that made Napoleon study his partner.

"You mean besides not go to work?"

"I'm serious. I started with UNCLE when I was twenty three; it's all I've known. My whole life, all I've done is work for UNCLE. What do I do now?"

"The whole point to retirement, my friend, is to do what you want when you want."

"Really?"

"Yup." Napoleon leaned back into one of the jets.

"Then I want more bubbles." Illya's grin was feral. "And a hot fudge sundae."

Napoleon wiped the sweat from his brow and tried to remember how relaxed he'd been just days prior. Hip deep in a trench, smeared with mud and sweat running down his face was not his idea of a blissful retirement. One thing to be said about building a house, it was certainly a learning experience.

"How much further?"

"Another foot and we should have it." Illya was on his stomach, his arm buried deep in a ceramic pipe. "I can feel the break with my fingers. He pulled his arm free and sat back on his heels. He estimated and pointed. "Dig there."

"That's what you said about five feet ago." One of the few things Illya couldn't do anymore was dig and Napoleon wasn't so sure that Illya wasn't doing this on purpose.

"I'm sure this time." His hair was dark with sweat.

"You'd better be." Napoleon angled the shovel and pushed it into the soil. There was a deep, rich smell to the dirt here and he couldn't wait to plant. Still that had to wait until they got other things taken care of. Things like removing broken pipes. "What kind of idiot puts a drainage pipe in the middle of the field?"

"I'm guessing someone who wanted this part of the field to drain into something else. We've found a lot of odd things out here." Their mantel was lined with some of the more interesting finds.

"Need a hand?" Both men turned and Napoleon grinned at Leon. Neither of them had heard his approach.

"What are you doing here?" Napoleon hefted himself out of the trench.

"Thought we'd come up and see how things were progressing."

"We?" Illya looked around and then started to laugh as he was abruptly inundated with grandchildren, all of them talking at once.

"We wanted to s'prise you," Peter shouted as he moved from one grandfather to the next and back. "Were you s'prised?"

Napoleon nodded as he tried to keep from smearing mud on his grandchildren. "Yes, Peter, I think that would encompass this nicely."

"You are a mess, Grampy," Irina murmured, brushing off Napoleon's shirt. She angled in for a kiss and a hug. "Poppy is a bigger mess though."

"I've been saying that for years." Napoleon answered and laughed.

Inessa raced up to her maternal grandfather and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Poppy, I've missed you so much. Wait till you see what I've learned in judo class."

"I can't wait." Illya scooped Ginny up and the little girl giggled wildly, waving her mismatched arms in the air.

"Pop Pop," she shouted and then immediately squirmed to get down. That one was all about freedom.

"Whacha building Pops?" Young Alexander was too cool for hugs or even to call his grandfather Poppy any more. He offered his hand instead and Illya shook it solemnly.

"A moat," Illya said, winking at Napoleon. "We're going to stock it with crocodiles and piranhas."

"Really?" Inessa's eyes grew big and even Alex looked as if he was having doubts.

"It was either that or put a mine field in the front yard," Illya continued, wiping his forehead off with his sleeve.

"Oh, Poppy, you're an old goofball," Alex said, finally deciding that the man was putting him on.

"Careful, I'm a goofball with a shovel full of dirt."

"We've got an even bigger surprise," Lisle said as she approached arm in arm with Genève.

"Excellent, I am all about surprises." Napoleon picked up a bottle of water and took a deep swig from it.

"We've had a really good offer on the house. If everything goes through, we should be ready to move out here in the middle of June."

Illya hugged his daughter. "That is fabulous news. Did you hear, Napoleon?"

Napoleon smiled happily at Illya's joy. "I heard, partner. That's great news!"

"That's not the only news we have. And this should come from Genève." Lisle pushed her forward. "Go on, it's just your grandfathers—don't be shy."

"What's going on, Genève? You look about ready to burst," Napoleon asked.

Genève blushed and dropped her gaze to the ground, staring at her shoes for a minute or two. "I was just wondering how you two might feel about being great grandfathers..."