The Deja Vu Affair by Elijahwildchild (NC-17)

[serenaar.livejournal.com]

Fandom: MAN FROM U.N.C.L.E.
Pairing: Napoleon Solo/Illya Kuryakin
Length: 21,369 words
Warnings: Graphic Torture scenes.
Author on LJ: elijahwildchild
Author Website: Chrome and Gunmetal Madhouse

Why this must be read:

There are many things that make a good story. And there are some things that make an excellent story. This rec falls into the latter for me and I keep going back to re-read it again and again. elijahwildchild hasn't published loads of stories yet, but the ones that she has done have all been great and this one is no exception.
My previous recs have hopefully all been fairly consistent in certain aspects - the characters have to be believable and the interaction between the two boys plausible. She gets Napoleon and Illya word perfect, right down to Illya's glee when he blows stuff up!
The story starts off with Napoleon having a nightmare where Illya is tortured. Later we learn the reason why. A very nasty man captures Napoleon and tries to teach him a lesson not to interfere in his affairs. Similar to several episodes in the series, our boys are separated from each other but working opposite ends of the same affair. They do eventually end up together on the mission, but I won't say anymore. Here's an exerpt....

By the time Illya returned to the kitchen, lustrous from his ablutions, Napoleon was piling eggs and rashers of bacon onto a large warmed plate and setting in on the table. The Russian's eyes gleamed and he began to load his own plate high as he sat down.

"Sorry, tovarisch, no toast," Napoleon said as he set a steaming teapot in the centre of the table, together with a crusty loaf of warm French bread.

Kuryakin merely grunted in response. Solo shook his head fondly. Eating was one of his partner's great pleasures and Napoleon never ceased to be intrigued by the sight. Illya consumed food with the same skilful economy that characterised everything else that Napoleon had seen him do. It was almost erotic... Steady, boy.

Illya looked up from his plate and caught Napoleon's distracted gaze. "What?" he said, swallowing a large mouthful and pausing in the midst of loading his fork for the next. Napoleon shook himself mentally. "What what?"

Illya looked at him a second longer and then resumed loading his fork. "You are looking at me as you do when you have some unpleasant task that you wish me to perform and are plotting as to how best to coerce me into doing it." He continued shovelling bacon and eggs into his mouth.

Schooling his features carefully, Napoleon sat down at the table and began to load his own plate. "Tell me about Turkey."

"The part where I was almost recruited into Blanchard's heroin empire, or the part where they realised they didn't want me after all and decided to terminate my contract?" Illya poured himself a large glass of tea. His eyes searched the table, clearly not finding what he was looking for.

Hiding his sudden unease from his partner, Napoleon stood abruptly and went to the cupboard. He returned to the table, his face impassive and set the apricot jam in front of the Russian. "Yes and yes," he said quietly.

Kuryakin began spooning the jam into his tea. "There's not much to tell really. I back- tracked the route the raw opium takes from the growers in the mountains and arranged to be available when they were recruiting drivers to take the next shipment to Marseille for refinement." He took a long pull of his tea and a satisfied look spread across his face.

Mopping the last of the egg from his plate with a piece of bread, he continued. "Unfortunately for me they took exception to drivers they believed were stealing from their payload en route and I was forced to decline their offer of a trip round the harbour - underwater." Illya popped the piece of egg-soaked bread into his mouth. "They were fairly insistent," he went on, as he chewed, "but in the end they saw things my way."

Napoleon looked on distractedly as the Russian sucked each finger clean in turn then licked his lips and sat back with a satisfied sigh. He locked his hands behind his head and yawned hugely. "Forgive me, Napoleon. Sleep has been in rather short supply this past week." He gave another jaw-popping yawn and rocked his chair back onto two legs.

"You and me both, my friend," Napoleon said softly, eyes unfocused.

Illya grinned impishly. "You never told me her name."

The look that suddenly shadowed his friend's eyes wiped the grin from the Russian's face.

"Napoleon," he said quietly "what is it?"

"Napoleon?" At the torment in his partner's face he reached out instinctively and his chair rocked forwards with a crash. His expression was unreadable as he laid a hand gently on Solo's forearm. In response Napoleon blanched and his mouth sagged open.

"Chyort!" hissed Illya. "Napoleon - tell me about it."

And so Napoleon did.

Please note the warnings, there are a couple of scenes of graphic torture described in this fic, so if you're squicky about this please be warned. The whole story is just great, heaps of angst and hurt/comfort, brilliant dialogue and fantastic description of scenes. Oh, and extremely hot first time sex *g*. Sorry, I couldn't leave that out - there will be more Gen recs I promise!! I love elijahwildchild 's style. I hope she writes more (hint hint LOL!), but for now enjoy what she's already written.

The Deja Vu Affair