"Bozhe Moy!" Illya Kuryakin exclaimed. "I swear you're getting heavier."
"Hey!" Napoleon retorted weakly, as he hung over his partner's shoulder. "It isn't my fault you haven't spent enough time in the gym."
"Maybe I'd have more time if I left you to do your own paperwork."
The mock argument had been going on for almost twenty minutes, both parties content to play along in order to distract Napoleon from his injuries. Illya had managed to rescue his friend from a particularly vicious THRUSHie, but thanks to a broken right ankle and a twisted left knee, Napoleon was unable to walk. A further complication was the fact that the satrap, in which Solo had been held, was deep in a dense forest; meaning Illya had had to go in on foot. He had planned on procuring a THRUSH vehicle to get back out, but they had all been taken by the fleeing guards. His only option was to carry Napoleon through the jungle. Illya could only hope he could get his partner to help before being forced to reveal his own injury.
During his search for Solo, Illya had gotten into a scuffle with one of the guards, which had resulted in them tumbling down a dilapidated metal staircase. Kuryakin had been lucky to land on the guard at the bottom, but it hadn't prevented him from being stabbed in the right side by a shard of metal which had been sticking out. It hadn't seemed too deep, and following a brief side trip to steal medical supplies, Illya managed to patch himself up enough to continue the mission.
"Joking aside, Tovarisch, you sound very out of breath."
"I'm fine," Illya gasped his stock reply. Unwilling to admit to himself he was not going to get much farther. "This rescue has been quite hard work, that is all. There's an evac team on its way to meet us and I need to get us as close to the landing site as possible."
Napoleon knew his partner well enough to know when he wasn't fine. Although he had no idea what it was, he felt certain Illya was injured in some way. However, because he was the only one who was mobile, Solo had to accept what Illya told him.
"I assume the team is tracking your communicator signal," Napoleon commented.
"Yes."
"Then rest," the senior agent urged. "You're exhausted."
"I'm fine," Illya repeated.
That was when the forest decided to remind him how unfriendly it was. A snake dropped from a tree, causing Illya tostagger backwards. This in turn caused him to trip. He fell back, pulling at the tear in his side, and landed heavily. Illya had enough presence of mind to push Napoleon away, as crushing his head probably wouldn't have been good. The pain which exploded through Illya's torso was enough to cause him to pass out.
Napoleon couldn't help but cry out has he thrown down, but was fortunate enough to cause any further damage to the injured parts. With a great deal of pain and difficulty, Solo dragged himself closer to his partner. He reached out to shake him, and was surprised to find a stickiness beneath his fingers. One look was enough to tell him it was blood and also confirm his suspicions of an injury. Napoleon carefully pulled back Illya's black sweater to reveal the hastily taped dressing, which was now coming away with the escaping blood.
"You can be an idiot sometimes, Kuryakin," he scolded his insensible colleague. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Illya groaned, and opened his eyes. "What would it have achieved?"
Before Napoleon could answer, the evac team arrived at their location.
…
Two days later, Illya was begging to be released from medical, claiming a little infection fever wasn't going to kill to him.
"Mr Kuryakin, that's exactly what it could do," the nurse told him forcefully. "If you don't calm down, I shall have you sedated."
Illya huffed and glared at her.
"You needn't bother trying that look on me, either. I'm not so easily intimidated."
"Don't worry nurse," Napoleon Solo soothed, as he wheeled himself into Illya's room. "He's going to be a good patient, aren't you Illya?"
The Russian was suddenly on alert. Solo's tone of voice told him that this was not going to be a friendly visit. As soon as the nurse left, the charmer disappeared and the Chief Enforcement Agent emerged.
"Please don't interrupt me until I'm finished," he ordered. "Whilst I acknowledge your last mission was a success, you failed to follow protocol by neglecting to inform a senior agent of a pertinent piece of information. Admittedly, there was not much which could have been done differently, but next time you keep an injury hidden from me, I'll put you on report."
Illya hung his head; his ears burning red with embarrassment. It had been a long time since he'd received a dressing down from anyone other than Mr Waverly.
"On a personal note, Tovarisch," Napoleon continued, in a much softer voice. "Thank you for the rescue. I wouldn't have survived much longer."
"Anytime," the Russian mumbled.
"Hey, don't worry about the reprimand. It's just something I have to do from time to time. I mean it though, Illya, please don't hide injuries from me. I'm not just your superior, I'm your partner and your friend, and I worry."
"Okay," Illya agreed. "On one condition."
"Which is?"
"I rescued you, couldn't you rescue me from here?"
Napoleon smiled and shook his head, before turning the wheelchair and heading from the room. Illya huffed again, and resigned himself to his fate.