The Super Final Affair - Part 1	The Super Final Affair - Part 1 by
Timemidae  
 

He surfaces to the murmur of a womans voice rising and failing steadily,
like the sound of waves against a beach. Waves? her words don?t make
sense, and then they do 

 much time for a honeymoon, and not much money either, and everything on
the Cape was so expensive. But we had ice-cream every daymint chip and rum
raisinand we had each other and we had a little bungalow right on the
beach and at night we could hear the ocean  

 

Illyas eyes flutter open and Joan stops herself short. His gaze flicks to
her, searches the room, rests back on her. She can read his calculations
as he makes them: Napoleon is not here and she, Napoleons wife, is. He
licks his lips as though to speak and she, catching the flash of panic
that hes too strung-out to effectively conceal, takes pity on him. 

Just a broken leg. Hes in another room. He asked to be placed with you,
but hes being briefed on things the likes of you and I dont have the
security clearance to know about. 

He shoots her a look thats confused and a little affronted. You and I are
not alike, it says, and she has to smile as she stands, helps him to take
a sip of water. Something dawns on him mid-swallow and he chokes a little,
gasps, Napoleon, hes Section One now, yes? She nods. A field promotion?
She nods again and he lets out a long, slow sigh. 

She can tell he doesnt want her there. Men are very much like babies in
many respects, but they usually dont like other people to see them cry.
Still, she has a duty to discharge. 

As promised, the little jar clicks softly against the formica tray table.
It takes him a moment to focus on it, then he groans and squeezes his eyes
shut. 

Please take that away, Im nauseated enough as it is. 

Suit yourself, she sweeps the caviar back into her purse. Eyes still
closed, he sinks deeper into the pillow. Once his breathing deepens, she
eases out of her chair. 

Why did you tell me all that? 

What she had taken for sleep had obviously been a prolonged mustering of
strength; his voice is clearer now, and growing louder with each word. 

I dont want to know. I dont want to know about your honeymoon and I
already knew his favorite ice-cream flavor, and I dont want to know about
your little bungalow, and I dont want to know about how the ocean sounded
when he fucked you and I dont want to know how much you love each other. 

She looks down, meets his glare with a gentle smile. I thought so. He lies
flat, panting. As a psychoanalyst, it's nice to know I havent lost my
touch. As his wife, I hope you dont think Im going to roll over and get
out of your way. 

No. He stares resolutely past her to the ceiling. 

And youre just going to have to take it on faith that I dont want him
sliced in half any more than you do. 

No answer. 

Hes going to be awfully confused if we stand on either side of the street
calling his name, like two fools trying to claim the same lost puppy. 

I wouldnt worry overmuch on his account. Napoleon has a knack for getting
what he wants. 

Illya, honey, she comes forward, rests a hand against his cheek, you and I
both know Napoleon well enough to know that he has no idea what he really
wants. She kisses his forehead, squeezes his right arm, and never looks
back.  


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