NOT THE ONE
Ducky has a strange encounter.
An established relationship story.
Written: April 2009. Word count: 300.
"Illya!" Ducky felt his arm grabbed. He was pulled around so hard he stumbled and found himself in the arms of a stranger.
"I'm sorry," he said, trying to extract himself from the, what was becoming, intimate embrace. "I'm sorry," he repeated, now pulling harder until finally the stranger let him go. "I am not Illya. I'm Donald. Donald Mallard, but everyone calls me Ducky." He held out his hand. "And you must be Napoleon Solo."
The man, several years older than Ducky, sighed and took his hand. "Yes. I'm sorry, Mr. Mallard. I just thought - Hoped really. You look just like him."
"So I have been told," Ducky said, his tone rather dry. "And it's Dr. Mallard."
Napoleon sighed. "Just like Illya."
"Hey, Duck. Something up?" Suddenly Jethro was there by his side, hovering over him in his protective, possessive manner.
Ducky turned and smiled up at him. "No, not at all, my dear. This gentleman," he nodded at Napoleon, "I am afraid mistook me for his friend Illya."
Jethro frowned and then Ducky saw realization dawn on the handsome face. "You're Napoleon Solo."
Napoleon nodded. "Yes. I am. As I was saying to Dr. Mallard, I thought . . . Oh, forgive me; you don't want to hear about my problems."
"Do I take it Illya is missing?" Ducky asked.
Napoleon nodded. "Yes."
Napoleon turned to Jethro and frowned. "How did you -"
"Jethro's a Federal Agent."
"Retired Federal Agent," Jethro corrected.
"Well, in theory. Jethro, do you think -"
"Come along, my dear. Mr. Solo and Mr. Kuryakin saved the world many times. Surely there is something you could do?" Ducky gazed up at Jethro.
"Just like Illya," he heard Napoleon murmur.
Jethro sighed. "Okay, Duck, you win. Join us for coffee, Mr. Solo and tell us just what happened."
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