The Iron Curtain Affair: Prologue
The Iron Curtain Affair
-a Man from UNCLE slash fanfic by Taylor Dancinghands
Pairing: Napoleon Solo/Illya Kuryakin; Characters: Napoleon Solo, Illya Kuryakin
Genre: slash, h/c, A/U: Sentinels and Guides, Sentinels are a known institution
Warnings: explicit m/m sex
Rating: Mature/PG 17
Length: 24,238
Disclaimer: I'm old, but still not old enough to be any of the creators or owners of the Man from UNCLE intellectual property. I swear, my own twisted musings are not costing those people a dime, and I won't be making a penny myself.
Summary: Rising young UNCLE agent and unbonded Guide Napoleon Solo affects a laissez-faire attitude about it, but he is beginning to wonder if he will find ever his Sentinel. Unbonded Sentinel and ex-KGB golden boy Illya Kuryakin has always been encouraged to think of a Guide as unnecessary for a Sentinel who possesses the control, as he does, to keep the zone-outs at bay. Sparks fly when the two are brought together for a diplomatically sensitive mission on the mountainous border between West Germany and Czechoslovakia, where Eastern and Western powers, smugglers, and very land itself present lethal hazards.
Pronunciation notes for the Czech words:
Jáchymov =Yachimov (ch as in the Scottish 'loch')
Jelinek =Yelinek
Šumava =Shumava
Chapter Index
Prologue: A Very dangerous game...
Act 1: Why did it have to be you?
Act 2: I won't start anything if you don't.
Act 3: Good Morning sisters!
Act 4: They call him... KIng of Šumava.
Epilogue: ...unfinished business.
>
Notes: Look! Yet another well worn fannish A/U which no one has applied to Man from UNCLE yet! (In fact, Macx on Ao3 has recently completed a fine movie-verse/Sentinel story [Stuck in Reverse] but so far as I know, no one has done it with our beloved originals). As with all 'Sentinels are a known institution' type 'verse, the setting here is around 75% fannon and 20% canon and 5% made up entirely by me.
The Iron Curtain Affair
Prologue: "A very dangerous game..."
Napoleon Solo had visited Germany often enough to appreciate the regional differences. Bavaria, and its capital, Munich, were a little more relaxed and comfortable than the northern regions, more folksy, and the food was better. An evening free in Munich was always a pleasure, and for Napoleon, fresh off a stressful, weeks long operation in Morocco, it was a pleasure well deserved.
It was also the only pleasure he was going to get any time soon. Even as they'd been mopping up the Marrakesh affair, Napoleon had been ordered to Munich, post haste, to meet with a team of Eastern and Western UNCLE agents. The six of them, two Czechs, a Brit, a West German, a Russian and Napoleon had been briefed on the mission this morning and were due to catch the early morning train to German-Czechoslovak border tomorrow. There it was suspected that uranium was being smuggled out from behind the Iron Curtain.
It seemed a Sentinel heavy team, with the Czech couple being a bonded Sentinel and Guide pair, the Russian an unbonded Sentinel, the west German a bonded Sentinel whose guide worked with UNCLE but was not a field agent, and Napoleon, an unbonded Guide. Only the Brit was a mundane, but he was an experienced agent with great deal of local knowledge. Napoleon had given the Russian, Kuryakin, a long look-he always did with unbonded Sentinels-but the man gave off no hints of interest in Napoleon. In fact, he gave off nothing at all, having evidently mastered the control of his emotional state so tightly that not even Napoleon's probing empathy could find a clue of how he felt. He probably never had zone-outs, and certainly didn't seem to be looking for a Guide.
The Czechs were heading up the mission, as the uranium had originated there, in the notorious Jáchymov uranium mines. Discrepancies in certain shipping manifests had been discovered there, and further investigation had revealed that shipments of radioactive material were being auctioned off in the underground market in Trieste. More recently, small radioactive traces had been detected in a mountain village on the east side of the Czech/German border, leading local authorities to speculate that it was travelling over one of many venerable smugglers' trails crossing the Šumava and Bavarian mountains.
The border was defended, of course, by a double line of razor-wire lined fencing, occasionally enhanced with landmines, but it was impossible to monitor every inch of the hundreds of miles of border snaking across and over the vast mountainous wilderness. This region included not only trackless acres of forest, but also a number of extensive and deadly peat bogs.
This rugged, wilderness setting was the reason for the high proportion of Sentinels. Napoleon, the Brit, Agent Eric Blanding, Napoleon and the German-Agent Greta Fischer, would be covering the western side, where they expected the smugglers to exit, while the Czechs and the Russian would try and catch them going in, on the East side of things. The area between was remote and crisscrossed with countless half secret routes, some dating back to the Roman Army, who'd visited the area around 700 AD
Without the opportunity to make any concrete plans, Napoleon began his evening with what might have seemed aimless wandering through one of the districts where cafes, taverns and restaurants dotted every street corner. He might peer at a menu here and there, but he entered nowhere. He sauntered on instead, taking in the sights, sounds and smells of the neighborhood, seemingly looking for something, without knowing exactly what it was.
The blonde didn't really catch his eye until he'd noticed her more than a couple of times, apparently wandering as aimlessly as he. Without any particular conscious decision, Napoleon found himself following her at a distance, using a spy's skill set so ingrained he hardly knew he was using it, to remain unseen. From time to time he'd get a good glimpse of her face, pleasing enough to the eye but also somehow compelling, or possibly familiar. It was slowly beginning to occur to Napoleon that he might have encountered her in his last mission, but if that was the case, all the more reason to continue following.
She, as Napoleon had been doing earlier, seemed to be wandering idly, without any particular aim, pausing before the occasional tavern but never going in. The very similarity of her behavior ought to have tripped Napoleon's alarms, but he was, perhaps, a little tired and little bit beguiled. The Thrush agent she reminded him of, more and more as time passed, had been an unbonded Sentinel as well, and Napoleon had distracted her from her watch post by appealing to that very nature, as only an unbonded Guide can do. He'd not stayed to see the look of betrayal on her face once it was clear that he'd accomplished his goal. In fact, he hadn't seen her since.
Unless this was her he was following now which, Napoleon realized belatedly as he looked around at the other very muscular 'patrons' of the cafe he'd followed her into, was possibly not the smartest thing he'd ever done. Even as his brain caught up with how very not smart he'd been, an obviously thuggish young man stepped up behind Napoleon, between him and the door, and turned the cardboard sign there from 'offen' to 'geschlossen'. The woman, who Napoleon now clearly recognised as the Thrush operative he'd distracted in Marrakesh, beckoned for Napoleon to join her at the table where she sat.
"Sorry, didn't realize you were closing," Napoleon deadpanned. "I'll just be going…" There were now two thugs blocking the door and both wordlessly shook their heads. Another one came up along side Napoleon and took him by the arm to 'escort' him to the table where the woman, who had last introduced herself to Napoleon as Angelique, waited. His escort pulled out a chair and when Napoleon balked, shoved him down into it.
She leaned across the table towards Napoleon as though they were intimates and Napoleon tried to remember what name he'd used with her, hoping against hope that his cover was still intact.
"And here you are at last," she said with a seductive smile. "You played a very dangerous game with me when last we met, Napoleon Solo."
~ ⇔ ~ ⇔ ~ ⇔ ~ ⇔ ~ ⇔ ~
Act I
-a Man from UNCLE slash fanfic by Taylor Dancinghands
Pairing: Napoleon Solo/Illya Kuryakin; Characters: Napoleon Solo, Illya Kuryakin
Genre: slash, h/c, A/U: Sentinels and Guides, Sentinels are a known institution
Warnings: explicit m/m sex
Rating: Mature/PG 17
Length: 24,238
Disclaimer: I'm old, but still not old enough to be any of the creators or owners of the Man from UNCLE intellectual property. I swear, my own twisted musings are not costing those people a dime, and I won't be making a penny myself.
Summary: Rising young UNCLE agent and unbonded Guide Napoleon Solo affects a laissez-faire attitude about it, but he is beginning to wonder if he will find ever his Sentinel. Unbonded Sentinel and ex-KGB golden boy Illya Kuryakin has always been encouraged to think of a Guide as unnecessary for a Sentinel who possesses the control, as he does, to keep the zone-outs at bay. Sparks fly when the two are brought together for a diplomatically sensitive mission on the mountainous border between West Germany and Czechoslovakia, where Eastern and Western powers, smugglers, and very land itself present lethal hazards.
Pronunciation notes for the Czech words:
Jáchymov =Yachimov (ch as in the Scottish 'loch')
Jelinek =Yelinek
Šumava =Shumava
Chapter Index
Prologue: A Very dangerous game...
Act 1: Why did it have to be you?
Act 2: I won't start anything if you don't.
Act 3: Good Morning sisters!
Act 4: They call him... KIng of Šumava.
Epilogue: ...unfinished business.
>
Notes: Look! Yet another well worn fannish A/U which no one has applied to Man from UNCLE yet! (In fact, Macx on Ao3 has recently completed a fine movie-verse/Sentinel story [Stuck in Reverse] but so far as I know, no one has done it with our beloved originals). As with all 'Sentinels are a known institution' type 'verse, the setting here is around 75% fannon and 20% canon and 5% made up entirely by me.
The Iron Curtain Affair
Prologue: "A very dangerous game..."
Napoleon Solo had visited Germany often enough to appreciate the regional differences. Bavaria, and its capital, Munich, were a little more relaxed and comfortable than the northern regions, more folksy, and the food was better. An evening free in Munich was always a pleasure, and for Napoleon, fresh off a stressful, weeks long operation in Morocco, it was a pleasure well deserved.
It was also the only pleasure he was going to get any time soon. Even as they'd been mopping up the Marrakesh affair, Napoleon had been ordered to Munich, post haste, to meet with a team of Eastern and Western UNCLE agents. The six of them, two Czechs, a Brit, a West German, a Russian and Napoleon had been briefed on the mission this morning and were due to catch the early morning train to German-Czechoslovak border tomorrow. There it was suspected that uranium was being smuggled out from behind the Iron Curtain.
It seemed a Sentinel heavy team, with the Czech couple being a bonded Sentinel and Guide pair, the Russian an unbonded Sentinel, the west German a bonded Sentinel whose guide worked with UNCLE but was not a field agent, and Napoleon, an unbonded Guide. Only the Brit was a mundane, but he was an experienced agent with great deal of local knowledge. Napoleon had given the Russian, Kuryakin, a long look-he always did with unbonded Sentinels-but the man gave off no hints of interest in Napoleon. In fact, he gave off nothing at all, having evidently mastered the control of his emotional state so tightly that not even Napoleon's probing empathy could find a clue of how he felt. He probably never had zone-outs, and certainly didn't seem to be looking for a Guide.
The Czechs were heading up the mission, as the uranium had originated there, in the notorious Jáchymov uranium mines. Discrepancies in certain shipping manifests had been discovered there, and further investigation had revealed that shipments of radioactive material were being auctioned off in the underground market in Trieste. More recently, small radioactive traces had been detected in a mountain village on the east side of the Czech/German border, leading local authorities to speculate that it was travelling over one of many venerable smugglers' trails crossing the Šumava and Bavarian mountains.
The border was defended, of course, by a double line of razor-wire lined fencing, occasionally enhanced with landmines, but it was impossible to monitor every inch of the hundreds of miles of border snaking across and over the vast mountainous wilderness. This region included not only trackless acres of forest, but also a number of extensive and deadly peat bogs.
This rugged, wilderness setting was the reason for the high proportion of Sentinels. Napoleon, the Brit, Agent Eric Blanding, Napoleon and the German-Agent Greta Fischer, would be covering the western side, where they expected the smugglers to exit, while the Czechs and the Russian would try and catch them going in, on the East side of things. The area between was remote and crisscrossed with countless half secret routes, some dating back to the Roman Army, who'd visited the area around 700 AD
Without the opportunity to make any concrete plans, Napoleon began his evening with what might have seemed aimless wandering through one of the districts where cafes, taverns and restaurants dotted every street corner. He might peer at a menu here and there, but he entered nowhere. He sauntered on instead, taking in the sights, sounds and smells of the neighborhood, seemingly looking for something, without knowing exactly what it was.
The blonde didn't really catch his eye until he'd noticed her more than a couple of times, apparently wandering as aimlessly as he. Without any particular conscious decision, Napoleon found himself following her at a distance, using a spy's skill set so ingrained he hardly knew he was using it, to remain unseen. From time to time he'd get a good glimpse of her face, pleasing enough to the eye but also somehow compelling, or possibly familiar. It was slowly beginning to occur to Napoleon that he might have encountered her in his last mission, but if that was the case, all the more reason to continue following.
She, as Napoleon had been doing earlier, seemed to be wandering idly, without any particular aim, pausing before the occasional tavern but never going in. The very similarity of her behavior ought to have tripped Napoleon's alarms, but he was, perhaps, a little tired and little bit beguiled. The Thrush agent she reminded him of, more and more as time passed, had been an unbonded Sentinel as well, and Napoleon had distracted her from her watch post by appealing to that very nature, as only an unbonded Guide can do. He'd not stayed to see the look of betrayal on her face once it was clear that he'd accomplished his goal. In fact, he hadn't seen her since.
Unless this was her he was following now which, Napoleon realized belatedly as he looked around at the other very muscular 'patrons' of the cafe he'd followed her into, was possibly not the smartest thing he'd ever done. Even as his brain caught up with how very not smart he'd been, an obviously thuggish young man stepped up behind Napoleon, between him and the door, and turned the cardboard sign there from 'offen' to 'geschlossen'. The woman, who Napoleon now clearly recognised as the Thrush operative he'd distracted in Marrakesh, beckoned for Napoleon to join her at the table where she sat.
"Sorry, didn't realize you were closing," Napoleon deadpanned. "I'll just be going…" There were now two thugs blocking the door and both wordlessly shook their heads. Another one came up along side Napoleon and took him by the arm to 'escort' him to the table where the woman, who had last introduced herself to Napoleon as Angelique, waited. His escort pulled out a chair and when Napoleon balked, shoved him down into it.
She leaned across the table towards Napoleon as though they were intimates and Napoleon tried to remember what name he'd used with her, hoping against hope that his cover was still intact.
"And here you are at last," she said with a seductive smile. "You played a very dangerous game with me when last we met, Napoleon Solo."
~ ⇔ ~ ⇔ ~ ⇔ ~ ⇔ ~ ⇔ ~
Act I