A Family Affair (MFU fic), part 2/4

A Family Affair (MFU fic), part 2/4                      

Title: A Family Affair
Rating: PG
Chapter
summary: The mission’s target confronts Napoleon’s parents as he and Illya try to work out a way to ensure their safety.
Notes: Napoleon’s mother comparing herself to the Queen of Hearts is purely coincidental to the fact that she shares her name with an especially cold and dark version of the Queen of Hearts character.  There are no other similarities.

If you prefer reading on FFN, you can read it here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12950926/2/
If you prefer reading on AO3, you can read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14780255/chapters/34376132

                                            Act II: Family Secrets

Napoleon and Illya were making their way towards Rex in a
vain attempt at intercepting him; Rex had too much of a headstart, however, and
being flanked by suited men who were, undoubtedly, his bodyguards, trying to
stop him from behind was going to be impossible.  Nevertheless, it certainly wasn’t about to
stop Napoleon from coming to the aid of his parents if needed.

Sensing this, Illya gently touched Napoleon’s shoulder.

“You cover things here,” Illya said, quietly.  “This may be the best opportunity at the
moment for me to root around in Rex’s office.”

“Be careful,” Napoleon whispered back.

Illya nodded and slipped away; the crowd, watching Rex and
Napoleon’s parents getting ready to confront each other, didn’t give him a
second glance.

Cora stood defiantly glaring up at Rex, who was a foot
taller than her—Leopold, slightly shorter than Rex, stood by her side.

For his part, however, Rex was staring with a look of sheer
amazement and awed disbelief.  This did
not fade, even after Cora addressed him coldly.

“Rex,” she hissed, a scowl lining her face.

“Cora Stroller…?” Rex merely replied.  “Is that really you?”

“No; I’m a mirage—we are in the desert after all,” she
replied, venom audible in her voice.
“Drink some water; I’ll disappear soon enough.”  As though to illustrate her point, she cast a
glance at the exit.

“Let you out of my sight now after losing you 40 years
ago?” Rex asked.  “Not a chance!  Cora, do you realize that for the last 40
years, there hasn’t been a day when I haven’t thought about you?”

“Really?  Because I
haven’t thought about you once in the last 40 years,” Cora shot back.  “Maybe you didn’t realize that I left Las
Vegas to get married!”

She flashed her left hand in front of him to show her
wedding ring while grasping Leopold’s hand with her right.

Rex now glared at Leopold, who glared right back.

“Ah, of course, Rich Boy Solo.  You always did want to follow the money,
Cora.  It’s a shame—I could have provided
for you just as well.”

That remark earned Rex the wrath of all three
Solos—Napoleon swore and attempted to make his way to Rex, and Leopold clenched
a fist, getting ready to punch him.  But
they were both out-sped by Cora, who planted a resounding slap across Rex’s
face.

“How dare you…?”
she hissed.  “How dare you insinuate that
you were entitled to me in any way!  How
dare you be so arrogant to think that I ever had any feelings for you in the
first place?  And how dare you insinuate that I married for
money!?”  If looks could kill, Rex would
have dropped dead on the spot.  “It just
goes to show that you never really knew me at all—I was the Queen of Hearts,
not the Queen of Diamonds!”  She turned
to her husband.  “Leopold, we’re
leaving.”

She and her husband turned to go, but more of Rex’s
bodyguards blocked the exit.  Cora glared
back.

“What are you doing!?”

“Making it up to you,” Rex said.  “I know you have reservations here—I couldn’t
believe it when I saw the log.  The least
I can do is let you stay in your suite free of charge.  …I must… insist.”

“…It sounds to me like you’re trying to keep me here
against my will,” Cora said, darkly.

“Think of it more as persistent insistence,” Rex said.  “And good luck trying to find another place
to stay in town—everywhere is booked solid.”

“I think it would be quite quaint, staying in a cozy,
little motel outside of town,” Cora replied.
“You wouldn’t mind, would you Leopold?”

“Not at all, my dear; not at all.”

“Then it’s settled,” Cora said.  She turned back to Rex.  “Tell your Sasquatches to get away from the
door and let us out.”

The bodyguards did not move, nor did Rex say a word.  In fact, more guards now appeared near pay
phones, as though making sure that the Solos wouldn’t be able to call out for
assistance.  Leopold now drew a
protective arm around Cora.

“It would appear this ‘persistent insistence’ is tantamount
to kidnapping after all,” he intoned.

“You can leave at any time, Rich Boy—in fact, I’d prefer
it,” Rex said.  “What I have to say
concerns Cora.”

“There is nothing you have to say that I want to hear,”
Cora replied.  “You may think you have us
trapped in your Paradise all alone, without help, but it isn’t just your
flunkies here on the inside.”

“I know your penchant for conning people into doing your
bidding,” Rex said. “But here, I am the king; you won’t find yourself able to
sway my men to your side.  And there are
other men working here, men who you will also be unable to sway.  As for the other patrons, I’m sure it’ll be
quite clear that it’ll be in their best interests to avoid talking to you.  You won’t be able to get them to do your
bidding, either.  But, I suppose you’ve
always enjoyed playing when the odds were hopelessly stacked against you.  Perhaps luck will smile upon you again as it
did then.”

“Oh, there was a fair amount of skill involved.  And so be it, King of Clubs, you shall match
wits with the Queen of Hearts once more—and the King of Hearts, as well,” Cora
added, taking Leopold’s hand again.

Rex’s expression was unreadable, but he didn’t seem too
concerned; he was determined that Cora wouldn’t be able to escape the building
without taking to him.  He merely
shrugged, acting almost casually.

“When you’re ready to talk to me, let me know,” he
said.  “The sooner you act reasonably,
the sooner you’ll be able to leave.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” Cora said.

Rex didn’t reply to that; he turned, obviously heading back
for his office.  Napoleon quickly pulled
out his communicator and reached out to Illya.

“Tactical retreat, Tovarisch;
he’s heading back your way.”

Illya didn’t need telling twice; he quickly bolted, and
Napoleon now got an idea, looking at his communicator.  Absently, he twirled his communicator pen in
his fingers as he casually walked past his parents; the pen dropped at their
feet as he walked by.  Understanding what
he was trying to do, Cora picked the pen up and concealed it as Napoleon
continued on, meeting with Illya as he reentered the room.

“What did I miss?” Illya asked.

“Plenty; apparently, Rex was in a triangle with Ma and
Dad—that’s how they knew him.”

“Of course,” Illya said, not sounding surprised at all.

“Well, not so much a triangle as two sides perfectly in
love with each other and a third side trying to force his way in to where he
was definitely not wanted.”

“Oh, one of those…”

“Yeah, but it’s gotten worse; he’s fundamentally trapped Ma
and Dad here—not letting them leave or use the phones,” Napoleon said,
darkly.  “I slipped them my communicator;
we need to talk to them.  What did you
find out?”

Illya sighed.

“I found that Rex definitely had ties to THRUSH in the ‘20s;
we still need proof that he has those ties now.
There is… more—and I think we should have this conversation over the
channel with your parents for that.”

“This concerns them?” Napoleon asked.

Wordlessly, Illya handed him an old, yellowed newsprint photograph
that had been torn from a larger one; it was of a young Cora in her wedding
dress, torn from a full news story that would have had Leopold there, as
well—torn because Rex could not bear to see them together, but still wanted to
see Cora as a bride.

“So that’s why you weren’t surprised when I told you about
the triangle,” Napoleon said, his voice calm, yet laced with anger and disgust
at the same time.  “I know that full
picture—it’s in Ma’s scrapbook at home.”
He exhaled and observed his parents now attempting to go to a secluded
corner, holding their hands together—cleverly concealing the communicator in
the process.

Illya now called Napoleon’s communicator, the two of them
standing together as Napoleon’s parents answered.

“Ma, Dad, are you alright?” Napoleon asked.

“As well as we can be for being held by a wannabe flame,”
Cora said.

“It’s a lot darker than you think, Mother,” Illya said.  “While looking in his office for evidence to
tie him to THRUSH, I found a rather disturbing… plan he has in store.  Apparently, once Rex had gotten wind of your
reservation, he has formulated a plan to convince you to leave Father.”

“I’ll kill him…” Cora muttered.

“Napoleon, Illya…” Leopold said, as he squeezed Cora’s hand.  “Is there any way you can just get us out of
here?”

“We could tranquilize Rex, his bodyguards, and his
flunkies,” Napoleon said.  “We’d be
entirely justified, since he’s holding you against your will.”

“I like that idea,” Leopold said.

“I don’t,” Mr. Waverly’s voice came over the channel.

“Who is that!?” Cora demanded.

“Alexander Waverly, head of U.N.C.L.E. Northwest,” he
replied.  “Mr. Solo?”

“Yes?” Napoleon and Leopold said, in unison.

“The younger Mr. Solo, if you please,” Waverly said.  “While I appreciate your ingenuity at finding
a way to communicate with your parents, the fact remains that you and Mr.
Kuryakin are there on a mission to find Rex’s ties to THRUSH.  Attempting to liberate your parents will blow
your cover and ruin the entire operation!”

“But, Sir, you can’t expect me to leave them to Rex’s
mercy!” Napoleon protested.  “They’re my parents!”

“Feel free to take whatever means within reason to protect
them—but you are not storming the place to get them out, and that is final.”

“They could stay in our room,” Illya suggested.  “At least then, Rex will not know where they
are.  We could slip them a set of keys
when we pick up the communicator.”

“That, I can get behind,” Waverly agreed.  “And once you have obtained the evidence you
need, you can then focus on your unexpected objective.”

“I already have evidence of communications of Rex with
Edward Moran, son of THRUSH co-founder Sebastian Moran,” Illya said.  “Moran gave Rex a lot of money to help him
get set up in Las Vegas with his underground gambling ring—undoubtedly, it was THRUSH’s
money.”

“That was the way it was back then,” Cora said.  “Especially with gambling being illegal—most of
these outfits were funded by the Mob.  I always
assumed that Rex was involved with them.”

“Not at all,” Illya said.
“According to these other communications I read, it would seem that the
Mob was dissuaded by Moran’s presence.
Apparently, as bad as they were, they considered THRUSH worse and wanted
nothing to do with them.”

“As fascinating as that is, we need proof that Rex is working
with current members of THRUSH,” Waverly said.
“Is there any evidence of that?”

“The only communication I had seen from a current THRUSH
agent was Victor Marton—but as this was in the ‘20s, he was not yet a THRUSH
agent.”

“Marton is a THRUSH agent!?” Cora exclaimed.

A long, awkward silence followed.

“…You know Marton, Ma?” Napoleon asked.

“Casually,” Cora replied.
“He used to frequent the underground gambling scene in Las Vegas, too—he
left to return to France around the same time that Leopold and I left to get
married.

“He was friendly towards both of us,” Leopold
recalled.  “Never would have guessed he’d
go bad.”

Waverly cleared his throat.

“That isn’t important now; the important thing is getting
that evidence while keeping our two innnocents safe.”

“Yes, we had best retreat to our room—separately, of course,”
Illya said.

“And then we’d better tell you what we know about Rex,”
Cora said.  “Maybe something we know can
be of use to you.”

“We will appreciate any pertinent information you can
offer,” Waverly agreed.  “Good luck, all
of you.”

Napoleon exhaled.

“I keep forgetting everyone at headquarters can hear what’s
being said over the open channel…”

“Can that rude fellow still hear us?” Cora asked.

“Ma…!”

“Well, he was the one sticking his nose into our private
conversation!”

“He is also our boss, Mother,” Illya said, flinching slightly.  “I say we go with the plan of meeting in our
room to discuss things further.”

He closed the communicator and gave Napoleon a look.

“Think he’ll let that one pass?”

“He’d better—as if I’m supposed to control what Ma says?”
Napoleon asked.  “She says and does what
she wants!”

Illya knew it was true—and he hoped that, in all of this
that was about to unfold, he and Napoleon would able to keep her and Leopold
safe.