Title: A Family Affair
Rating: PG
Chapter
summary: Napoleon and Illya find the THRUSH connections they were looking for–but also trouble, resulting in their needing an assist from a surprising source.

If you prefer reading on FFN, you can read it here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12950926/4/
If you prefer reading on AO3, you can read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14780255/chapters/35544351

                                             Act IV: Family First

Napoleon waited, wondering what to do as the voices drew
closer towards the washroom.  Thinking
quickly, he noticed a green bathrobe hanging on the wall, changed out of his
suit, and threw the robe on as they used a passkey to open the washroom door,
just managing to conceal his communicator and his Special in the robe.

“I beg your
pardon!?” Napoleon exclaimed, tightening the robe around him, sounding as
affronted as he possibly could.

Rex stared in utter befuddlement at Napoleon, who glared
right back.  No one spoke for a moment.

“Sir… are you sure we’ve got the right room?” one of the
flunkies asked, at last, in a very embarrassed tone.

“Of course I’m sure!” Rex snarled.  He turned back to Napoleon.  “Who are you!?”

“I should you be asking you
that!” Napoleon said.  “Just who do you
think you are, barging in like this!?  A
man needs his privacy!”

Rex ignored him, and instead reached for the pants that
Napoleon had tossed aside.  Napoleon
realized that he was looking for identification, but that didn’t concern him,
as he was carrying cover IDs.  …At least,
it didn’t concern him until he suddenly remembered that he was using “Albert
Stroller” as an alias on this assignment—Albert being the name his mother had
wanted to give him, and Stroller being her maiden name.  In any other situation, it wouldn’t have been
an issue, but now, in this case…

“Stroller…” Rex said, staring at the ID.  “Albert Stroller!?  You…”
He stared at Napoleon, the realization sinking in as he saw Cora’s
features in his face, as well.  “Her son!
You are Cora’s son!”

“…Strange as it is, Ma never mentioned things like this
happening when she was fortune-hunting in Las Vegas,” Napoleon said, now trying
to charm his way out of a situation he had never expected to deal with.  “I’m sure she’ll find this interesting; just
give me a moment and I can let her know…”

He tried to slip past them, only to be forced to stop as
Rex pulled a gun on him.  He cursed
internally.

“Ah…. Look, I realize my name wasn’t on the reservation,
but I was in town and decided to spend some quality time with my parents—I’m a
traveling shoe salesman, you see, so when I found out…”  Napoleon knew it was futile, but playing dumb
was the only way of ensuring that he wouldn’t be searched—and that his
U.N.C.L.E. equipment wouldn’t subsequently be found on him.

“Shut up,” Rex said, and he turned to a flunky.  “Take him to a storeroom and lock him in
there with a guard.  Cora will have to talk with me now that I have her
son as leverage—hold him until I find her.”

As the flunky marched Napoleon away at gunpoint, he had to
marvel at the irony; he had expected Cora to be used as leverage against
him—not the other way around.  He went
quietly as he was locked in the storeroom, waiting for a few minutes as the
flunky now kept guard outside the door.

He took his communicator out and called Illya.

“Hey, Tovarisch,” he said, and then began to speak quietly,
in Russian.  “Don’t let Ma and Dad realize what’s going on, but my cover name of
Albert Stroller ended up working against me once Rex found out about it.”

Illya groaned, quickly realizing what must have happened.

“Where are you?”
he asked, also in Russian.

“Locked in a
storeroom downstairs until Rex can find Ma and convince her to meet with him
now that he’s got me where he wants me,” Napoleon replied.  “He
doesn’t know I’m with U.N.C.L.E., so it’s just one weak—but armed—guard
outside.  I have my Special and could
shoot my way out myself.”

“So, why don’t you?”
Illya asked.

“Because all I have
on is a bathrobe, and I’d be rather conspicuous in that.  I need clothes.”

There was a long pause.

“Please tell me there
is an explanation,” Illya said, at last.

“There is, but for
now, let’s simplify it with ‘it seemed like a good idea at the time,’ and I’ll
explain the whole story later,” Napoleon said.  “Look,
my clothes are in Ma and Dad’s washroom, but Rex is bound to be guarding that,
so forget it.  Just grab another set of
my clothes from my luggage and get them to me as soon as you can!  …And make sure Ma and Dad are safe.”

“With the room in the
name of ‘Dr. Mallard,’ they should be fine here.  Don’t worry, Napoleon; I will be there as
soon as I can.”

He signed off, and gave an awkward glance at Cora and
Leopold.

“What’s going on?” Cora asked.  “Napoleon didn’t want us to know about
something—that’s why he was speaking Russian, wasn’t he?”

“He doesn’t want to worry you unnecessarily,” Illya
said.  “He just needs a little bit of
backup, and I will give it to him, as we have done for each other countless
times.  I must ask the two of you to
remain here until I return.”

He checked his Special, grabbed some clothes from
Napoleon’s suitcase, gave the Solos a reassuring nod, and headed out the door,
locking it behind him.

“I don’t like this,” Cora said.  “Something went wrong and Napoleon didn’t
want us to know about it.  Why else would
he speak in Russian?”

“That he was able to call was a good sign,” Leopold
said.  “Illya will bail him out—you heard
what he said.  They’ve done this before.”

“He mentioned ‘Albert Stroller,’” Cora went on.

“Someone from your side of the family?”

“No, that’s the thing—there is no Albert in my side of the
family; that was the name I had wanted to give him before you stepped in with
‘Napoleon’ while I was still out of it!” Cora reminded him.  “Napoleon has always known that!  And Illya mentioned a ‘Dr. Mallard,’ and that
was the name he had given the bellhop.
They’re using fake names, Leopold—and Napoleon used Albert Stroller, not
knowing my connection to Rex before this all started!  Rex is trying to use Napoleon as leverage
against me!  After what happened all
those years ago, Rex isn’t about to let me get away—Leopold, our boys are in
serious danger, and it’s my fault!”

“…And all it would take would be for one of those THRUSH
people to recognize them,” Leopold realized.
He paused as he saw Cora heading for the door.  “What are you doing!?”

“All this time, Rex thought he was going to have to deal
with an unwilling bride.  He’s about to
deal with an angry mother instead.”  She
glanced back at her husband.  “Are you
coming, or what?”

“…Illya told us to stay here,” he reminded her.  “Very likely under Napoleon’s instructions.”

“And they are both very sweet to look after the two of us,
but Mother knows best,” Cora countered.  “Can
you sit idly by while our boys are in
danger because of us?”

Leopold considered this.

“Alright,” he said.
“But if we’re going to do this, let’s do this the right way—just like
the old days.”

Cora’s eyes shined.

“Oh, I love the way you think!  …If only you could pick better names…”

                                              ***************************

Illya soon showed up with a suit of clothes and a
tranquilized guard to free his partner.

“How does this always seem to happen to you?” Illya
inquired, as Napoleon hurriedly got his clothes on.

“Just my luck, I guess,” he said.  “Okay; it’s a cinch that I’ve lost the
element of surprise, so I’ll go stay with Ma and Dad and you see if you can
gather the evidence.”

“I’ve already got one smoking gun—metaphorically speaking,”
Illya said, picking up a THRUSH weapon from a box in the stock room.  “It’s a gun, but it isn’t smoking—fortunately
enough.”

Napoleon’s sour expression turned into one of eagerness.

“That’s it, Tovarisch, we’ve got the link!  We can make our arrest!”

The duo moved to leave the store room, but halted as they
heard Rex’s voice; he was talking to someone.

“The new weapons shipment came in; it’s down here with a
prisoner I’ve been holding,” he was saying.

“Prisoner?” a familiar, raspy voice replied.  “You never mentioned anything about a
prisoner!”

“It’s not a THRUSH prisoner; it’s a personal prisoner;
there’s no need to concern yourself with this matter, Korbel.”

Napoleon and Illya both exchanged glances.

“Anton Korbel…!” Illya exclaimed, his mind going back to
the case they’d called The Fiddlesticks Affair, and how Napoleon had nearly
suffocated in Korbel’s vault during the mission.  “Bozhe
moy…!  Napoleon, from now on, we
shouldn’t trust THRUSH to finish off their failing members.”

“…I think you’ve got a point,” Napoleon said, as he pulled
Illya behind a stack of crates.  “Shh.”

They waited, silently as Rex and Korbel approached,
stopping as they noticed the tranquilized guard and ran in.

“He’s gone!” Rex fumed.

“Your prisoner!?” Korbel asked.  “Who was he?”

“The son of someone I was hoping to convince to cooperate
with me,” Rex muttered.  “He couldn’t
have gone far!”

“And he’s been poking around the THRUSH weapons!” Korbel
said, indicating the open box.  “He’s no
longer a personal prisoner, Rex—THRUSH is involved now.  You say he’s the son of someone you were
trying to strong-arm?  Get the parent,
and make it clear to the son that you demand him to surrender.”

“I don’t know where she went,” Rex muttered.  “That’s why I had the son—to get her to surrender!”

“Well, you’d better find at least one of them!” Korbel
snapped.  “In the meantime, let’s move
these before anyone else finds them!”

Napoleon and Illya could only cringe as Rex and Korbel
moved away the top boxes of weapons, revealing their hiding place.

“Stroller!” Rex exclaimed, as Korbel stared at them in a
mixture of horror and sheer hatred.
“It’s the son!”

“It’s Solo and Kuryakin!” Korbel hissed, venom in his voice
as he drew a gun on them.

“Solo…?” Rex asked.

“Solo, Stroller—same difference…” Napoleon said, with a
shrug.  “We’ll be on our way–”

“They’re U.N.C.L.E. agents!” Korbel fumed.  “And you were going after Solo for some
personal reasons?  I should kill the both
of them right now for what they did to me!”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute!” Rex said.  “Do what you want with Kuryakin; I need Solo
in order to get his mother out of hiding—you’ve heard me mention of Cora
Stroller before, haven’t you–?”

“This is not the
time to try to blackmail your runaway bride from decades ago!” Korbel exclaimed
in disbelief.  “We need to interrogate
these two, find out how much U.N.C.L.E. knows about our operations here, and
then eliminate them before they pull some ridiculous plan to ruin the operation
here like they did in my casino four years ago!”

Rex blinked, and then pointed at Napoleon.

“He gets it from his mother, I can tell you–”

“REX!” Korbel
bellowed.  He then drew his weapon on
Napoleon and Illya again as they attempted to slink away.

“Alright, Korbel, you go and question them,” Rex said.  “It’s a cinch that Cora is in their room–”

“No, she isn’t, Boss,” a voice said.

Napoleon’s heart leaped into his throat as he saw his
father being paraded into the stock room at gunpoint by one of Rex’s flunkies,
a hat pulled down over their face.

“Dad…!”

“Where is Cora!?” Rex demanded.

“She got away; they others are looking for her,” the flunky
said.

Leopold was hastily shoved over to where Napoleon and Illya
were standing.

“Now this has possibilities,” Korbel mused.

“Don’t,” Napoleon warned, standing between Korbel and
Leopold.  “He’s not a part of this.  I’ll tell you anything you want.”

“Oh, I know you will, Solo—I knew you would as long as we
had your partner with you,” Korbel said.
“Which makes your old man here completely unnecessary, if you ask me.”

“Completely
unnecessary!” Rex echoed, sounding almost eager.

“What’s in these things?” Rex’s flunky asked, suddenly picking
up Napoleon’s Special from where he and Illya had placed their weapons after
Korbel had drawn on them.  “They did a
number on the guard, but he doesn’t seem dead.”

“Tranquilizers,” Korbel scoffed.  “U.N.C.L.E. has yet to learn the lesson that
mercy is for the weak—and that efficiency means getting rid of unnecessary
things.”

Korbel pointed his weapon over Napoleon’s shoulder, at
Leopold’s head.

“No–!” Napoleon began, but he stopped in surprise as the
flunky pointed his Special at Korbel and fired.
Korbel dropped like a rock, and before Rex could react, he, too, had
been tranquilized.

“What…?” Illya asked.

Leopold just shook his head.

“You couldn’t have acted a little more quickly?”

Napoleon and Illya stared as the “flunky” now took off the
wide-brimmed fedora hat, revealing Cora beneath it.

“…Ma!?” Napoleon
asked.  “You…?  …Is that one of my suits?”

“I’ve had better fits, but thank goodness you took after me
in the height department and not your father.”
Her expression softened.  “And
thank goodness you boys are going to be alright.”

She rushed forward and hugged Napoleon tightly; though
still trying to process what had just happened, he hugged her back.  She then let him go and turned to Illya; he
took a moment to come to grips with the fact that this was a genuine maternal
hug.  This wasn’t the first such hug Cora
had given him, and it wouldn’t be the last, but it was still an incredible
thing to remember—that he had a family again after losing the one he’d been born
into during the horrors of the war.

She let Illya go now and kissed her husband as they two of
them began to tie up their prisoners.

“And who is this miserable thing?” Cora asked, looking at
Korbel.

“An old foe of ours, Ma,” Napoleon said.  “We made things a bit embarrassing for him
four years ago.”

“We only embarrassed him,” Illya said, darkly.  “He
tried to asphyxiate you in his vault, remember, Napoleon?”

“…He what?” Cora
asked, her voice going dangerously cold.

Napoleon now scrambled to retrieve Korbel’s real gun as
Cora began to search for it.

Leopold shook his head.

“…She’s talked about applying to U.N.C.L.E. part-time to
handle interrogations,” he informed Illya.
“I’ve been talking her out of it.”

Illya smirked, clearly relishing the thought of Cora
demanding answers from those who had dared attack her son.

“While I doubt Mr. Waverly would hire her… next time, try
not to talk her out of it,” Illya requested.

Leopold’s eyebrows arched for a moment as he glanced at
Illya, and then looked back at his wife and son; Napoleon was trying to stop
his mother from following through on a kick she had aimed at the unconscious
Korbel.

Leopold then just chuckled and clapped Illya on the back.

“I think two family members in this business are more than
enough,” he said.

And Illya went slightly red, for Leopold had just confirmed
what Cora’s hug had told him earlier—

This was his family now, and they would be together for
another day with this mission now complete.
And Illya was grateful for it.

                                                       The End