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crack_van2004-03-19 07:07 pm
vysila.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2004-03-19 07:07 pm
Entry tags:
The Children's Night Affair by T. Gabrielle (G/PG?)
Fandom: MAN FROM UNCLE
Pairing: Possibly Illya/Napoleon *g*
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tgabrielle
Author Website: None, only one story online for now
Why this must be read: Because T. Gabrielle has a real talent for showing instead of telling, and for creating intriguingly ambiguous situations. The aired episodes have nothing on this story when it comes to subtext.
This story takes up where the second season episode, The Children's Day Affair, left off, but you don't really need to know anything about the episode to understand and enjoy the story. Here we see Illya and Napoleon through a third party's eyes - their boss, Alexander Waverly, who finds himself involved in a sort of "bidding war" with another UNCLE chief over one of his top agents. The other chief, highly placed in the European sector, wants Illya for his sector and cleverly plants suspicions that Napoleon and Illya are lovers and should be separated, for the good of the organization.
I find "exterior" pov stories to be fascinating, since what we see is only a refraction, not a direct knowledge of what is happening, leaving the final interpretation very open. The question posed in this story: are the UNCLE chief's suggestions true, or fabricated to help his own case? There is evidence - but what does it mean? How should it be interpreted? And does it matter anyway?
Waverly, frequently ignored in fanfiction, is beautifully drawn here, a complex, shrewd and nuanced man of great experience and wisdom. Napoleon and Illya are equally well depicted, although in a less direct manner. Although the story is Illya-centric, Napoleon's characterization is not lacking at all. The scene between the two of them in the infirmary is simply wonderful. And this story offers a fascinating exploration of the political infighting that occurs within any organization, even among adamantly "do-good" types.
This is a story that draws the reader in and demands active participation. And when you're done, there are no clear answers, only the ones you supply for yourself.
“Carlo, Carlo,” Waverly’s tone was light but chiding. “We’ve regaled these young men with enough tales of our exploits. I am sure we can find another topic more firmly rooted in the present.”
Farenti frowned. “Yes, of course.”
So they talked about the unseasonably warm weather for an uninspiring few minutes and then the salmon mousse the waiter brought to the table, molded in the shape of a fish. Farenti served Waverly its tail. Then they ate for a while without talking.
Finally: “This is the first European city you ever visited, is it not, Mr. Kuryakin?” Farenti presented the question more as a statement of fact. “I remember it well.”
Kuryakin looked up startled. “Sir, I lived in Kiev, Leningrad and Moscow. But yes, this is the first Western European city I visited.” Illya’s voice sounded as chilly as the mousse, chillier.
“I meant Western Europe, of course.”
“A lovely city, Geneva.” Solo enthused, running interference. “Who was it that said Switzerland is the natural homeland of spies?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that,” Farenti said. “I suppose it is appropriate.”
A gypsy violinist approached their table and asked, in French, for a request. Kuryakin said something to him in a language Waverly guessed was Romanian and then they chatted for a bit before the violinist played a tune so melancholy it brought tears to the musician’s dark eyes.
“You speak so many languages, Mr. Kuryakin. Perhaps your mother was gypsy?” Farenti smiled, warming to the topic Waverly had given him clearance to introduce.
“No,” Kuryakin said, shaking his head. “She was not.”
“Ah, so I am mistaken. Russian then?”
Kuryakin shrugged. “I was Russian on my identity card.” He brought a forkful of the salmon mousse to his mouth, his eyes seeking Solo’s.
“It seems a shame,” Farenti continued. “You remain in North America, I mean, with all your languages. A waste.”
“A waste?” Solo said. “Why a waste? All agents are multi-lingual. As you know it is a requirement of our employment.”
Farenti focused on Kuryakin, paying no attention to Solo’s comment. “Illya,” he shook his head, “forgive me, Mr. Kuryakin, you did not want to leave Paris.”
“I left it,” Kuryakin said, his tone flat.
“But I mean to say, what is the wonderful quote from that American movie: ‘We’ll always have Paris.’”
Kuryakin tilted his chair to watch the gypsy violinist and said nothing.
“Do we somehow imagine Paris has disappeared?” Solo asked. “Mr. Farenti, what is your point?”
The violinist finished his somber melody and started to play an equally elegiac version of “Michelle.”
“Of course not, Mr. Solo. Paris is, well, Paris. I just mean to suggest it is open to your friend. That’s all.”
Waverly ignored the furious eyes of his chief enforcement agent. He had told Carlo he could present his plea and remained true to his words. Your boys have grown very close. They didn’t seem particularly close now. Kuryakin seemed far away indeed as he watched the violinist and mouthed the words to the song he played. Waverly did not regret the unexpected friendship between the American and the Russian and remained pleased by it, though sometimes he found its intensity unprofessional. By no means did he wish them to be separated by the Atlantic Ocean.
I hope you enjoy this story as much as I do.
The Children's Night Affair
Pairing: Possibly Illya/Napoleon *g*
Author on LJ:
tgabrielleAuthor Website: None, only one story online for now
Why this must be read: Because T. Gabrielle has a real talent for showing instead of telling, and for creating intriguingly ambiguous situations. The aired episodes have nothing on this story when it comes to subtext.
This story takes up where the second season episode, The Children's Day Affair, left off, but you don't really need to know anything about the episode to understand and enjoy the story. Here we see Illya and Napoleon through a third party's eyes - their boss, Alexander Waverly, who finds himself involved in a sort of "bidding war" with another UNCLE chief over one of his top agents. The other chief, highly placed in the European sector, wants Illya for his sector and cleverly plants suspicions that Napoleon and Illya are lovers and should be separated, for the good of the organization.
I find "exterior" pov stories to be fascinating, since what we see is only a refraction, not a direct knowledge of what is happening, leaving the final interpretation very open. The question posed in this story: are the UNCLE chief's suggestions true, or fabricated to help his own case? There is evidence - but what does it mean? How should it be interpreted? And does it matter anyway?
Waverly, frequently ignored in fanfiction, is beautifully drawn here, a complex, shrewd and nuanced man of great experience and wisdom. Napoleon and Illya are equally well depicted, although in a less direct manner. Although the story is Illya-centric, Napoleon's characterization is not lacking at all. The scene between the two of them in the infirmary is simply wonderful. And this story offers a fascinating exploration of the political infighting that occurs within any organization, even among adamantly "do-good" types.
This is a story that draws the reader in and demands active participation. And when you're done, there are no clear answers, only the ones you supply for yourself.
“Carlo, Carlo,” Waverly’s tone was light but chiding. “We’ve regaled these young men with enough tales of our exploits. I am sure we can find another topic more firmly rooted in the present.”
Farenti frowned. “Yes, of course.”
So they talked about the unseasonably warm weather for an uninspiring few minutes and then the salmon mousse the waiter brought to the table, molded in the shape of a fish. Farenti served Waverly its tail. Then they ate for a while without talking.
Finally: “This is the first European city you ever visited, is it not, Mr. Kuryakin?” Farenti presented the question more as a statement of fact. “I remember it well.”
Kuryakin looked up startled. “Sir, I lived in Kiev, Leningrad and Moscow. But yes, this is the first Western European city I visited.” Illya’s voice sounded as chilly as the mousse, chillier.
“I meant Western Europe, of course.”
“A lovely city, Geneva.” Solo enthused, running interference. “Who was it that said Switzerland is the natural homeland of spies?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that,” Farenti said. “I suppose it is appropriate.”
A gypsy violinist approached their table and asked, in French, for a request. Kuryakin said something to him in a language Waverly guessed was Romanian and then they chatted for a bit before the violinist played a tune so melancholy it brought tears to the musician’s dark eyes.
“You speak so many languages, Mr. Kuryakin. Perhaps your mother was gypsy?” Farenti smiled, warming to the topic Waverly had given him clearance to introduce.
“No,” Kuryakin said, shaking his head. “She was not.”
“Ah, so I am mistaken. Russian then?”
Kuryakin shrugged. “I was Russian on my identity card.” He brought a forkful of the salmon mousse to his mouth, his eyes seeking Solo’s.
“It seems a shame,” Farenti continued. “You remain in North America, I mean, with all your languages. A waste.”
“A waste?” Solo said. “Why a waste? All agents are multi-lingual. As you know it is a requirement of our employment.”
Farenti focused on Kuryakin, paying no attention to Solo’s comment. “Illya,” he shook his head, “forgive me, Mr. Kuryakin, you did not want to leave Paris.”
“I left it,” Kuryakin said, his tone flat.
“But I mean to say, what is the wonderful quote from that American movie: ‘We’ll always have Paris.’”
Kuryakin tilted his chair to watch the gypsy violinist and said nothing.
“Do we somehow imagine Paris has disappeared?” Solo asked. “Mr. Farenti, what is your point?”
The violinist finished his somber melody and started to play an equally elegiac version of “Michelle.”
“Of course not, Mr. Solo. Paris is, well, Paris. I just mean to suggest it is open to your friend. That’s all.”
Waverly ignored the furious eyes of his chief enforcement agent. He had told Carlo he could present his plea and remained true to his words. Your boys have grown very close. They didn’t seem particularly close now. Kuryakin seemed far away indeed as he watched the violinist and mouthed the words to the song he played. Waverly did not regret the unexpected friendship between the American and the Russian and remained pleased by it, though sometimes he found its intensity unprofessional. By no means did he wish them to be separated by the Atlantic Ocean.
I hope you enjoy this story as much as I do.
The Children's Night Affair
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Yeah, I have a very definite opinion on the nature of Illya and Napoleon's relationship in this story too... :)