Disclaimer: I should take this out at one point. You should know by now I don't own them, I'm just playing around with them.

Notes: So "Nowhere Affair" and "Foreign Legion Affair" are both second season, yet "Jingle Bells Affair" is third. This means I screwed with time…but ah well, not like it doesn't happen in other places. Plus, this is an AU, so there :-p

Synopsis: Celeste and Illya get stranded in the desert with an old Foreign Legion commander and his aide. Elaine and Napoleon to the rescue - if they can get out of the THRUSH prison first. Plus the answer to the question: Seriously, where did Illya hide the microfilm?

CULTURE SHOCK

Part 8: The Foreign Legion Affair

January, 1966

"Who would've thought we'd celebrate a New Year's party during the middle of this millennium when we lived through Y2K?" Celeste said as they sat down at lunch, or for Elaine breakfast, and worked through the food that was decent before Elaine pushed her plate away. "I can't believe you can eat that stuff."

"Five years on a ship, and one of the few that actually cooks good food, you learn to eat just about anything," Celeste pointed out as she finished off her food. "And compared to other ships, ours was good, and this is decent. So, listen, I heard a nice little grapevine."
Elaine raised her eyebrow at that. "Oh? What about?"

"It involved two glasses of champagne, a twig of mistletoe I missed in my non-holiday cheer, and a tie that was used in the Jackie Chan type fu, though not exactly what I expected."

A blush came up on Elaine's cheeks. "I see."

"So what gives?" Celeste asked as she took a drink of her milk, "I thought you two promised each other that you wouldn't take this too far."

Elaine sighed as she finished off her own drink before saying, "Well, that little thing with Capsule B kinda threw that out the window, and other than that..." She shrugged, than gave a wicked smile towards Celeste. "Well, we haven't figured out just what 'too far' really is. You want me to tell you once we find out?"

Celeste coughed then shook her head. "No. No, that's all right," she muttered after that, "You're enjoying this way too much..."

Elaine shrugged, obviously enjoying the discomfort that she was now giving Celeste. "You tend to enjoy yourself too much in this area anyway. I still can't forgive you for rubbing it in that night you and Illya got drunk then locked the door on us the next morning."

Celeste looked up then smiled. "Oh, that. We just slept in. Nothing happened."

Elaine coughed now and blinked at her. "Nothing? You, the hentai master between us two, and nothing happened?"

"Hangovers don't make for a good mood when having anything past sleeping in, plus he had to go to work too. Not something he wanted to have to deal with, then past that, no real time where we did anything besides the kiss at the children's hospital. So, nothing."

Elaine blinked once more then shook her head. "I'm amazed at that. You…and him…and nothing?"

"Besides being a red-head and having the temper to go with it, you and he are the official Ice Royalty of the court. If Napoleon isn't going after you in gossip, he's screwing Illya in some of the raunchier versions, and while that would make for a good blackmail or 'training video' on lonely nights--."

"—your coworkers were weirder then I thought, if that's what I think 'training video' means…"

Celeste gave a smile. "BM's are worse. Someone once walked in looking for someone and saw them watching one that involved a midget."

Elaine put her forehead in her palm. "I don't want to know."

"Either way," Celeste said as she stood, Elaine following her a moment later, "Illya doesn't really sleep around. I think there was a total of six ladies people knew he was 'with' after a mission, and if not then he was just 'close' to them. Besides that is hearsay and he's not admitting to any of it."

Elaine frowned as they put their trays up then shrugged. "Well, maybe something will happen."

"Again, he's bad with ladies at times. I would be surprised if it did happen."

The mission was simple enough…get photos of the Triad Code that THRUSH was using in their Middle East office and get back to Paris with the microfilm. It would've been easier if he was just alone, but after a test it turned out his Arabic wasn't as good as he thought for that region, and he was going to need a partner who had more of a proficiency in it.

Illya didn't expect Celeste to walk in, though, and it was apparent she didn't expect it either.

"Sir?" Celeste asked as she read the file, "Why me?"

"According to what information we have, you went there at least five times," Waverly pointed out.

Celeste frowned at that, as did Illya. Five times?

"Sir, I was there on a mission…which basically means my ship parked there and wasn't leaving so I could get off and look around."

Waverly nodded, taking out the file they had on Celeste. "Yes, Miss Lancaster, but you also were able to pass a test on being proficient in Arabic, especially of that region."

"I talked to taxi drivers and took a class," Celeste protested, "It helped if I was able to haggle with them in their own language."

"Mr. Kuryakin is not proficient in that dialect…he is somewhat proficient in Arabic in general, but not in the speech. We need someone who is to help him in this mission, and you are the only one with the language skill who is both available and qualified."

Celeste blinked at that and looked over at Illya. "You…not proficient in a language? I think the world stopped moving for a minute."

Illya shot her a glare before saying, "I am sure I could--."

"This is not open for debate," Waverly said, "I want you to bring Miss Lancaster along. She is not only proficient in the language, but would fit in much better then you would in case of disguise. I understand you went there, ah, during your own time, but this is quite important. THRUSH's system Triad will be up in a week's time, and we need that code to find out whatever the blazes they are doing. Besides, both of you are already booked on a flight, and it leaves in an hour. I expect both of you to be there."

With a sigh and a muttered, "Yes sir," the two got up and headed out the door, Celeste giving Illya a smile before saying, "Well, easy job, yeah?"

"It should be."

"Good, then we have no need for the peril those two got into last time they went out."

The trip hadn't been anything special, though Celeste was obviously amazed at something in the airports they went to before reaching the hotel they would stay in and getting the necessary items for blending in. Celeste's mixed heritage made her look a good deal like she could blend in with the Mediterranean area or that she was of mixed blood from the region, if the right amount of kohl and other products were used on her skin.

After explaining what she needed to know, Illya donned a cap that covered most of his dark hair and a covering over his own dark clothing that usually held his equipment for breaking into safes and areas.

"How well do you know this area?" Illya asked.

"In my time? Decently. Now? I just go on what we've been given," Celeste motioned to the maps and briefing. "I'll make contact and give you the key when I get it, then meet you back at the airport. Piece of cake."

Act 1: "I hope Lawrence of Arabia doesn't sue…"

The private plane had only them and the pilots, though for now Celeste was playing stewardess as they waited for the plane to land in Casablanca then get another one to Paris. Waverly's mention of 'commercial class' after the expensive charter plane made Celeste frown then shrug it off as she asked Illya if he wanted anything that they might have onboard.

"Borsht," he answered her, confused by the busy-body attitude that Celeste was now showing off.

"Meat or vegetable?" she asked with a smile before he blinked then returned the smile.

"You would, wouldn't you?"

"There was a nice Russian-Gregorian restaurant in San Diego…I had some once, and liked it. I don't know exactly how to make it, but you can't blame a girl for trying."

He nodded before telling her, "I'm getting some sleep. You should too."

She nodded in agreement before saying, "I will after I make sure everyone's okay."

He frowned at her. "What's with this new Celeste?"

"I don't have something to do, I start finding something to do. I play stewardess on this flight, since the French one traded with me to get to her fiancée in Ohio a little sooner for their wedding. You go to bed, I'll check on the pilots."

Illya nodded and stretched out in one of the available couch-beds, listening to background noise before Celeste's startled yelp almost woke him up, though a hit to the back of the neck downed him for a good while as he felt himself searched and manhandled, Celeste's voice going from close to further back in the cabin as he felt his clothing being stripped off.

One of the men growled something in Arabic that sounded vaguely like, "where would he put it?"

"Does it matter?" the other one said to him, "Just grab his clothing and him…we'll get him to tell us where it is when we get to our destination."

Celeste's voice now woke him fully as she yelled, "You're not taking him anywhere, you—" the wording was crude and meant to be insulting, but Illya couldn't fully translate it as he got up, racing to the back where Celeste pointed a gun at the two.

"Are there parachutes back here?" he asked her in English.

She nodded quickly, keeping the gun trained on the men as he grabbed one then said, "Here, put this on, I'll take care of them."

Celeste handed over the gun before reaching to put on the parachute then looked at him in confusion. "Aren't you going to get one?"

"There's only one," he told her as they moved to the side near the door, "so this will have to do."

Celeste started to protest when the door was opened and both fell out, Illya gripping onto her before reaching around and pulling the string.

It had been nice to speak to Illya and know that Celeste was okay, especially so late at night. Elaine smiled at Napoleon as she said, "I can't believe I didn't know she spoke Arabic."

"Waverly didn't suspect it either until someone mentioned her arguing with someone about the area and she told him off in Arabic. I guess he was a linguist and another Section 2 agent from that area mentioned it later."

"Why not just send in that guy?"

"He went on another assignment," Napoleon told her, "so the only one qualified was Celeste."

Elaine snorted. "She actually said she and Illya didn't do anything."

Napoleon frowned. "Didn't…really?"

"So she said."

Napoleon frowned, then shook his head. "That I don't believe."

The Sahara was cold in the night, the two underneath the tangle of the nylon parachute that had saved their lives and deposited them in the middle of nowhere, at least as far as they could tell. They had the luck of dropping down during a new moon, making the whole of the area darker then it would've been had the moon been full.

Illya was shivering more as he had only been left with his shirt and underwear while Celeste kept her clothing, though she would've relinquished her coat if they could take off the pack.

"You okay?" she asked as they huddled close under the nylon for what warmth they could.

Illya nodded as she hugged him closer before rubbing his arms to circulate some warmth and blood. Illya moved a little and finally turned to face Celeste. "I'm fine."

"Sure you are," she told him as she pulled him closer, "which is why you're shivering and have goose bumps all over." She pulled him closer as she began to rub up and down his back.

Illya wiggled against her even more before finally reaching down and rubbing along her thighs. "Stop."

Celeste jumped at the touch then smirked. "Not so much an Ice Prince, huh?" one hand moved from his back to his front and squeezed. "Don't try to play dirty with me. I'll meet you each step."

Blue eyes met brown in a contest of wills as neither moved their hand before Illya spoke up. "We do need to keep warm, not hot and bothered."

"You started it," Celeste pointed out with a slight smirk before looking down at Illya's hand. "Are we going to stop this or keep it up? Because if it keeps up—" she stopped as Illya's hand went up and she let out a breath. "Illya…"
"You aren't going to get off easily," he muttered, "now let go."

"After you," she said after taking another breath while the fingers moved, feather-light, against her skin. In response, she released her grip enough to start her own rub that brought out a growl and some response from the held item in question.

"If you keep this up," Illya told her, "both of our clothing is going to need changing."

"I'd stop then, since you only have one pair of underwear and I, at least, have a skirt to cover that part. Your only other option is to continue what you started and have us be too exhausted to care about cold."

There was a long pause from Illya before he said, "Fine."

His fingers moved up again and the night suddenly turned a little warmer.

"The plane came down in Casablanca, but without Mr. Kuryakin or Miss Lancaster."

"Figured as much," Elaine muttered as she looked at the distance between the tiny island of Bahrain and the port city made famous by a Humphrey Bogart movie. Between them both were two things: lots of water, and lots of sand.

"Luckily, the plane was closer to Casablanca when they were said to leave, so they could easily be in this area." Half of the Sahara was motioned to by Waverly. "The head of THRUSH Middle East went there as well to see about finding Mr. Kuryakin, who has the microfilm containing the code for the Triad."

"Triad?" Elaine asked suddenly.

"Yes, it's due to start in three days, and while we have the message it was in a code we have yet to decipher. Mr. Kuryakin and Miss Lancaster are the only two with the microfilm that had the code on it, and we need to get that before THRUSH can start whatever Triad is. That is both of your jobs."

Napoleon frowned at a thought then asked, "Who was the head of THRUSH Middle East again, sir?"

Waverly looked over at Napoleon before saying, "I believe it was Luceinne Bay. Do you know him, Mr. Solo?"

Napoleon gave a slight smile then nodded. "I do, sir...we've, ah, crossed swords before."

Elaine sighed. "This isn't going to be fun, is it?"

"Probably not, though I dare say you shall put yourself into a bit more peril then usual," Waverly told them, "Now, go and rescue your friends, and get the microfilm while you're at it."

Daylight broke on the Sahara to have Illya crawl out and slowly take up the nylon left to them from the parachute while Celeste undid the buckle that had been left on during the night.

"You realize this was silly to have on last night, right?" she asked as she took it off and surveyed the area, then looked back at Illya. "And that was rather rude, earlier."

"Before or after the, um..." he motioned between the two as Celeste pulled out a small knife and began to cut away strips of the used chute. "What are you doing?"

"Contrary to popular belief, my Hispanic heritage only goes towards skin color and makes it so that I burn a little faster then some, but can stand the heat. Plus I have long sleeves on. You are of Slavic descent and thus must be well-equipped to deal with the sun and heat that the day presents to us."

Illya's eyes narrowed and Celeste told him as she took the piece and a small rope before wrapping it around his head. "You're white and you will cook without this, now stop glaring at me."

Illya snorted as Celeste measured out another, longer length then added after another glance at him, "I just hope Lawrence of Arabia doesn't sue for infringement or anything."

Illya gave a small smile as he allowed himself to be fitted with the crudely-made burnoose. "I think that's the least of our problems, though our first is getting ourselves somewhere that we can get a message out to Waverly and give him the microfilm."

After ensuring the burnoose wouldn't slip off or cause too much of the sun to hit his skin, Celeste said with a frown. "That reminds me...where the hell did you hide the microfilm? The only place you could've hidden it would be in a...well...up your own ass, and I somehow don't think that's the best place for it. Watches, sure..."

"That is part of another movie I must see?"

Celeste swatted his arm as she looked around before saying, "Just answer the question."

Illya gave her a smile and pulled back the string of his elastic boxers to show off the lining that had, protected, the microfilm strip.

"Clever. Good thing we didn't lose those or get anything liquid-like on them last night, huh?"

"I would think so." After a moment, he pointed, "That way should be it."

"After you, fearless leader," Celeste motioned, and the two headed off into the desert.

Act 2: "Everybody is Somebody Else's Spy."

Celeste found herself plopping into the sand and growled at her legs to keep moving before she saw Illya sit down next to her. He had taken her shoes despite her protest and she had tied her jacket around her waist to stop him from carrying too much, but at the same time both were getting exhausted from the heat as well as from having no water to drink. Celeste sighed then muttered, "I never though I'd have to walk so far after I got out of the Navy. Damn, this is annoying."

"We can't be far from something," Illya told her, "not even here."

Celeste snorted and looked over to the horizon. "So now what? Just keep going until we either collapse or find help?"

"That is the only option," Illya pointed out, "unless you want THRUSH to finish off the coup they were planning using the code we stole."

Celeste sighed and moved, happy to find her legs and feet were listening to her now. "Come on, then. We've had enough rest."

With a nod, Illya stood as well as they continued their trek into the desert, neither noticing the man in the old-fashioned uniform that traveled ahead of them to speak to his commander.

Captain Basil Calhoun looked over at his Corporal, Remy, before standing. "Outsiders, you say?"

Remy nodded quickly. "Yes, Captain, a man and a woman...the woman is dressed in a white shirt and blue skirt, and has a jacket with what appears to be a flight pin on it. The man is dressed in a burnoose that appears to have been made from a parachute cloth."

Captain Calhoun paused, thinking. "Fascinating, very interesting. Are they near?"

"They are heading this way, sir!"

Calhoun snorted. "Fetch me my binoculars, Remy, I shall see about our visitors and try to guess what it is they are doing. If they are friends, then we shall welcome them. If not...they shall be treated accordingly."

The two stumbled down a small hill of sand, Illya falling down beside Celeste as he pointed. "Do you see that?"

Celeste looked over then said, "It looks like a large fort. I hope it's not a mirage."

"If it is," Illya said, his voice breathless and cracked, "it is wonderful. Shade your eyes."

Celeste did so, noting it was still there before saying, "Okay, I think we can—Illya, are you okay?"

Illya started to nod as his eyes drooped downward and he felt Celeste holding him up, a palm on his forehead. A few choice words later, he was hauled to his feet. "Come on, Illya. We need to make it to the fort and hope they have a good well. Right?"

He nodded, getting his bearings, and the two headed forward again.

"I don't like it," Calhoun said as he watched the two stumbling closer to his fort, "I don't like it one bit." He lowered his binoculars as Remy, standing behind him, asked, "Do you think it is a trick, moi capitan?"

Calhoun paused, then nodded only briefly. "Probably." He cast another look as the man and girl, the man coming down faster then she continued to near, the man having lost his cover on the way as Calhoun continued. "The man is a towarig, but even the form of the woman is unfamiliar to me." After a moment, he smiled.

"Clever. Diabolically clever. Only the Greeks had thought of it first. A Trojan Horse."

Remy voiced his puzzlement. "What, moi capitan?"

Lowering his binoculars, Calhoun told his loyal man, "The oldest trick in the world. Our two friends will have us believe they are in need of our help, and lull us into a sense of security with some far-fetched tale. Then, in the middle of the night, they open the gates to allow their forces to come in and overwhelm us." He smiled. "Well, two can play at that game. Let them in, Corporal Remy. Instead of a Trojan Horse, we shall have two hostages...or, in the very least, two corpses."

In Casablanca, one only needed to know the right people before you could find anything. Napoleon, luckily, knew the right people and a few minutes after arrival, both he and Elaine were outside and ready to shimmy up the drainpipe.

"Lady's first," Napoleon said with a gesture.

Elaine looked up then back at him. "You're joking. I don't know my way around this place, you do. Now move."

Napoleon gave a grimace then headed up, Elaine starting shortly after him after he heard her say, in almost a whisper, "Nice bottom."

"Now," he whispered back to her, "is not the time for flattery."

Elaine stayed silent as Napoleon helped her over the edge then the two crept into the main room, starting to look around when a noise alerted them and they hid behind a folding screen, Napoleon wrapping his arm around her as they heard some of the head THRUSH walk in and speak, luckily all of them speaking in English.

"Somewhere within 50 miles of this location in the Sahara," the sound of a map being hit, "is the body of the UNCLE agent Kuryakin. We have to find him, gentlemen, to find him and tear him apart, so we can get the microfilm back."

"Forgive me, sir," a younger voice said, "but I don't believe Kuryakin had it on him."

The man, who Napoleon whispered during his talk as Bay, said, "I was informed earlier today that the UNCLE agents Solo and Salomon were dispatched to find the body of Kuryakin as well today. Do you think they are interested in his body...or in Triad?"

There was the sound of the younger man asking forgiveness, then Bay saying, "I've already made plans for Mr. Solo to be dealt with."

The sound of a door opening made the two pause, moving a little closer as Bay stood then said, "It is said, gentlemen, that when one dines with the Devil, one must use a long spoon. I have a very long, and effective, spoon." Their hiding place pushed away, Elaine and Napoleon gave a sigh as they straightened, a gun pointed in their direction and THRUSH outnumbering them. "Behold our devils, gentlemen...Mr. Napoleon Solo and Miss Elaine Salomon."

The two gave slight smiles to the rest as guards came in and, after a quick and somewhat embarrassing search, the two were pushed into a cell, tied together, and left alone.

Elaine looked at the door then Napoleon. "This isn't our day, is it?"

Celeste had woken sometime between being carried into the strange, dilapidated fort and meeting with the head, a captain in the Foreign Legion who said he wouldn't reveal his name until her companion awoke and they were told their rights as 'prisoners of war'. She had taken the water offered graciously and with a good amount of thanks as Illya was carried into the main room that was much cooler then outside. Having the reserve nearby and wasting no time, she checked his vital signs, though she knew for certain he was suffering from heat exhaustion and a good bought of dehydration from their little trip in the Sahara. Coupled with some slightly nasty burns on his feet from walking in the hot sand without shoes on, a slight sunburn along his arms and part of his legs that hadn't been fully shaded with the make-shift burnoose she had made for him.

She took the cloth given to her by the younger man and used it to wet Illya's lips, giving him a small bit of water, and then putting the cold press on his forehead.

It was the coolness that woke him, and he found himself moaning, reaching up to grab it himself as he heard Celeste say, "He's awake!"

A strange voice, with a slight Irish accent and a joking tone, noted from somewhere nearby, "The female of the species seems to be more resilient then the male. That male, anyway. You must have some French in you."

Celeste snorted. "The name 'Morin' just screams French." After a moment, the coolness left as Celeste poured more water on the cloth, saying, "Besides, I'd like to see your pasty white ass out in the Sahara with nothing to eat or drink for a few hours and doing what he can to get by."

"Young lady," the man warned as Illya, his eyes opened now, saw the man was a little ways away, a riding crop in his hand and the lights on, signaling the end of the day, or at least that the room had no light. His mind was still a little distorted as the odd man continued, "I have to remind you that you are a prisoner of war, and I am willing to abide by the codes of the Geneva Convention, but don't try my patience too far."

War...but that is over, isn't it? Unbidden memories came up and were quickly pushed back, even in his heat-confusion, as he asked softly, "There's not a war...what war?"

Celeste shrugged at him, obviously not sure what the guy was talking about either. "He said it was a war with the Arabs of this region, and that he thinks we're spies. I told him what happened while you were out, but he doesn't believe me."

Noting Illya starting to sit up, Celeste pushed him back down with the cloth on his forehead. "Uh-huh, you're not getting up or going anywhere until your temperature is lower. You had heat exhaustion, sunburns, and whatever else might've happened during our lovely trek in the sand, and I'm not about to have to deal with you relapsing."

"I'm fine," Illya told her, taking the wet compress and then sitting up partly before telling the captain, "it's true, every word of it." His strength still not up to par, he found himself flopping back down as Celeste gave him an 'I told you so' look before helping him put the cloth back on his forehead.

The captain stood then said, "Permit me to review the facts. You both jumped from a plane you had chartered because two men, who had changed places with the pilots, assaulted you and were about to kill you. Correct?"

"Correct," Illya said as Celeste looked skyward while the captain continued, "So after jumping out, this young lady made you a burnoose out of the parachute for you because all your clothing had been taken from you. After that, you both decided to walk to Marchese, which is about 300 kilometers away. In other words, with the entire Sahara desert at your disposal, you just happened to be passing in the vicinity of this fort."

Celeste looked at Illya, who was getting better, for the nod. "Yes sir." He gave a small smile and laugh, "I didn't realize this was a restric--."

"Renegade!" the captain yelled, interrupting Illya, "Liar! You take me for a fool?"

Celeste looked to the side as he moved over to get a little too much into Illya's personal space and leaned in on him, forcing Illya to turn away as he listened to the accusations. "Ali Kabar. How many pieces did he pay to buy your soul, Judas?"

Illya turned to look back at the captain coolly, forcing him to move away as Celeste said, "I take it your only reference for anyone named 'Ali' is the boxer or from a story with Arabian Nights on the title."

Illya nodded at that, then looked back at the fuming captain, "Listen, I don't know what it is you are accusing me of, but whatever it is, you're wrong! I don't know where I am, and I don't know who you are."

The captain straightened as he said, "Permit me to enlighten you both, then. You are in Fort Salbore, an outpost of the Foreign Legion, and I am it's commandant, Captain Basil Calhoun. Is that clear enough?"

Illya frowned, his mind now working and quite a few questions popping up. "Foreign Legion? French Foreign Legion?"

The Captain glared at him, "There is only one Foreign Legion worthy of the name, French Foreign Legion."

Celeste looked at him then frowned. "I read somewhere that it was dissolved, or at least...not completely here."

The captain looked angrily at her as Illya said, "Sir, it has been, for five years now. It's non-existent."

That set off Calhoun as he yelled at Illya, "Non-existent? Never! NEVER! The glorious heritage of a hundred years, bathed in the sweat and blood of men who fought in all four corners of the world, and you say the Legion is non-existent?"

He raced to the door as Illya heard Celeste mutter, "Dramatic much?"

Upon opening the door, music played outside and he pointed with the crop. "Listen to that! Listen to that, you craven nit! You dare say the Legion is dead? The Legion will live while you are rotting in your grave! Death with honor! Viva la Legion!"

Celeste put her head in a hand. "Oh boy."

Calhoun now glared at her. "You dare to suggest it isn't?"

"Music does not the service make," she told him, "though zeal will give you a few brownie points. Besides, the only good thing to come out of France is wine, champagne, and maybe the Legion, though they're not really French, are they? Seriously, how can you enjoy something with FRENCH in its name? They're just pompous cheese-eaters who tend to roll over and call a Resistance 'doing something for the war', and who spend half their time trying to make their language 'pure of other influences' when before they started it all, it was a mix of languages anyway!"

Calhoun looked ready to burst before he yelled, "I've hand enough of you scrawny, savage, scoundrel! Toss them in the black hole!"

Illya held up a hand, getting up on his own as Celeste followed him into the smaller room before the door was closed and bared behind them. At that point Illya glared at her. "You didn't have to provoke him."

"I know," she said, gathering some of the straw down to make a small bed area for the two, "but I didn't have to sit around with him either. He's a nit and annoying anyway. I'd rather be in here with you."

Another thought popped into Illya's head. "Don't you like French fries?"

Celeste sighed as she leaned against the wall. "Those aren't French. And for the record, I don't like French Toast or French Vanilla either."

That gained a smile as he sat down next to her. "Well, now what do we do?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. Escape might be helpful, but like he mentioned, it's about 300 some kilometers towards our nearest town, and we don't know what's going on thataway. Plus you've just gotten over heat exhaustion, I'd hate to give it to you again."

Illya cast her a glance. "I doubt you could make me exhausted."

Celeste raised her eyebrows at the statement, then leaned over to whisper, "Do you really think we should be making innuendos and risk getting caught by one of those two?"

Illya smiled back at her. "A man like that, it takes a few hours to cool his rage. We at leave have that time."

Celeste gave a large grin that disappeared as he leaned in to kiss her.

Those hours passed relatively quickly.

A little while later, ties undone but no way out found, the two were brought a good-sized and hearty meal while outside, the man sharpened his blade for a beheading, should there need to be one.

As Aisha, their server, left, Elaine looked back over at Napoleon. "Did you have to flirt with her?"

"I tried. I think she was more interested in you."

Elaine paled and looked out the door. "Great."

Remy opened the door, looking in to see that his idea for bringing two pairs of clothing was correct, as two heads popped out of the covering made by used burnoose, though it was the man who needed it the most. His underwear recovered by the girl before the man stepped out and thanked him for his change of clothing while asking, "Your capitan...is he all there?"

Remy bristled and growled, "Silence," in French.

The woman muttered from down below, the burnoose covering her, "Touchy, ain't he?"

The man nodded in agreement. "Well, I'll try something else. I have to get in touch with someone in Casablanca. Do you have a short-wave radio around?"

"Short wave?"

The man moved to hit him, but Remy easily tossed him against the far wall as the girl moved back against her own. The man, still standing, gave a small smile that looked a little pained. "Wireless telegraphy?"

"HA!" Remy said to him.

"Crystal set?"

"You make me laugh."

The man tried again, and this time was dropped onto his back against the far wall before adding in, "Carrier pigeons?"

Remy glared at him. Who was this guy? "The punishment for striking a guard is 30 lashes. This time I won't report it."

The man and woman looked over at him before the man said, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Dropping the woman's clothing, he headed out and waited, hearing the man say, "You could've helped me."

"I'm in my underwear. As nice as it would be, we're also in the middle of the Sahara. I think we should, at least, be nice."

The man snorted, the sound of clothing signaling either he was putting on his new outfit or helping her into her own. There was a very large pause. "Now I'm glad you stayed under there."

"Possessive much? Two men, alone, in a fort. They should be happy with each other."

A small laugh as Remy, blushing when he realized what she was saying, moved away. "You have an odd way of viewing things, Celeste."

"That I do, Illya, that I do."

Act 3: "On White Feathers, Escapism, and Deadlines"

It appeared that the captain could cool off relatively well if there was a female about, and invited the two to dinner if they were, as he put it, 'on their best manners'. The two had agreed so they could get some food, and a little while later the group sat at the table, Celeste between the two while Calhoun asked, "So tell me, what is your relationship, exactly?"

"We're..." Illya started, then after a look at Celeste said, "not quite sure. As things go, our relationship is somewhat complicated."

Calhoun snorted. "Don't be daft. Even the most complicated of relationships is easy to define."

Celeste said to him, "Well, you said 'be civil' and I can't describe the relationship as I see it and still be civil."

That got a laugh out of Calhoun, but aside from a remark about the camel they were eating, which didn't gain too much of a surprise from the two, the rest of the evening was relatively silent until they were sent back to the cell.

An improvised lock pick (well, log-pick really, as that was holding the door shut) later that night had the two slowly sneaking out, searching for water, food, and a map as Illya tried to convince Celeste to stay behind.

"You're out of your mind if you think I'm staying here with those two," Celeste whispered as Illya started to fill the canteen. "Those men might be dummies, but those two are cooky and I'm not staying with them!"

Illya sighed. "It's better if you stay here."

"Yeah right. You're bringing me with you."

Illya started to argue when a light caused the two to turn, now facing the very-awake Calhoun. "I don't think either of you are going anywhere."

Celeste glared at the man. "Oh this is just annoying. If he gets heat stroke out of this--."

Illya sighed as he hung upside down, trying hard to not let the blood rushing to his head make him too light-headed. Celeste and he had been tossed back into the cell with little ceremony and with Remy now as guard. After they had been pulled out, Illya had been strung up along the ladder while Celeste was standing nearby, arguing that they hadn't done anything of what the captain accused them of. She hadn't started actually saying anything about him that was bad, luckily...

"He's weak as it is, and you are just as guilty as he is! It's only your sex that stops you from getting the same punishment as he!"

Celeste bristled at that before saying, "Usted el hijo de una puta, usted realmente lleva a cabo este? Espero que usted se caiga muerto de un poco de enfermedad venerial que usted consigue de su cabo de asno sucio o uno de los camellos que usted consiguió de aquel tipo igualmente estúpido que le guarda aquí fuera sin cualquier comunicación al mundo civilizado!"

The captain and Remy paused. "What?"

"You don't want to know," Illya told him.

The Captain looked over at her then said, "Either way, I am sentencing you to hard labor for the duration of your confinement."

Celeste started to speak again, but the sound of a passing airplane stopped them as the group looked up. After a moment, it swung around again and a barge of gunfire, most of which nearly hit Illya and Celeste, entered into the small fort as Captain Calhoun pushed Celeste to the ground.

"Now do you believe us?" Celeste asked, annoyed at being shot at before Calhoun gave her a nod.

"I'll apologize later, please get inside. Remy, cut him loose!"

The drum was dropped as Celeste, lingering at the door before shots were fired, quickly turned and closed the door inside. Illya waited until his hands were free before commanding Remy to also head inside as he sat up and undid the bonds on his feet while Captain Calhoun shot at the airplane, his fire obviously still alive as he successfully hit it at least a few times before being shot himself.

Illya quickly climbed up and took over for shooting at the plane until it left and he was able to get the others out to help him get Calhoun back inside to deal with the wound.

Elaine glared back at Napoleon as he was returned to the cell with restraints and a guard now. "While you were playing macho-man, I was trying to make sure things were okay on this end."

"And?"

"The cell is lonely without you."

Napoleon frowned at her before she shrugged. "Aisha was very nice to me and asked why I didn't escape. I told her I like time and opportunity, and if you didn't escape they'd be watching us like a hawk anyway. So are you done trying that?"

"Sure," he said, "how's the food?"

"Delicious. Want some?"

What could be done of first aide was done, and a good amount of what was left of the wine left, the captain was safely to bed with his gunshot wound to the arm bandaged, cleaned, and with Remy holding them there due to the fact that he was clueless in first aid and didn't want him to die during the night. Calhoun had told Remy to put the gun down before telling the two that Shiek Ali Chad would be around tomorrow and would take them to their destination for a price. "It's the least I can do."

The two travelers thanked him, and sat for a nighttime vigil of watching over the injured captain.

The escape, as given by Aisha, was quite smooth as she wrapped her arms around Elaine and pulled her in, kissing her neck as Elaine glared at Solo while he gained his jacket and communicator, her look telling him that bad things were to come.

"Machusla," the captain muttered as his fever as they waited it out, the group without the medicine or means to help him.

"We have to just let the fever burn out," Illya told Remy and Celeste as they got another cool cloth for Calhoun.

"The white feather..." Calhoun said, obviously unnerved by it, "but I didn't...it was Terrance...but they can't know."

"White feather?" Celeste said with a frown before pointing at the picture. "There's one in that picture with the lady...wait...I saw somewhere that a white feather was a tradition in some British place of someone who was a coward. Right?"

Illya nodded before she looked back at Calhoun then at Illya. "I don't get it. Especially not after what he did today..."

Remy sat beside them and told them that Calhoun had been in the Irish Guards when he accepted the feather and then left, never giving any notice to his friends or family.

"What you both saw today was only a shadow of what he once was," Remy told them, "He was a lion. And there was no man here, when this was truly a fort, who did not respect him...and love him. There are more then a hundred graves out there...and he wept for every one of them."

Illya realized it suddenly and said simply, "Then you know."

Remy nodded, agreeing that he had hidden the notice to disband in order to save his captain.

There was a pause before Calhoun awoke, standing up before saying, "What are all of you sitting around for?"

Celeste smiled. "He's better."

"Of course I'm better! Will you please remove yourself so I can get out of this...nightgown?"

Celeste's smile turned into a smirk. "Oh, I've seen a bit, Captain Calhoun. I won't be offended."

A blush rose on Calhoun's cheeks before he said, "This is a civilized base."

With a shrug and a muttering of 'civilizations needed sex as well', Celeste headed out before Remy was ordered to fed the guests with the remainder of the camel stew, and then told Illya that, by noon tomorrow, they would be halfway to Marrakech.

The portrait returned, Illya helped the captain out of his nightgown and made sure he would be okay.

Elaine paced as Napoleon spoke with the commander of the base, stating their need to head to Fort Sablone as soon as possible. As it was, Elaine was getting more and more worried about how Celeste was and what could have happened to her between the plane losing two passengers and the group finding only Illya, or so it seemed, at the old Foreign Legion fort.

"Will you just..." Elaine frowned at Napoleon and pulled out her own yellow card, showing it to the man before he quickly called to find a transport for them to the area.

Act 4: "Timing is Everything"

The caravan arrived on time, and somewhere in the desert, Elaine and Napoleon were being told a story that sounded like out of a bad movie or romance novel.

As they walked up, Calhoun said that some 'aplomb' would be needed while speaking with the Sheik.

"No, really?" Celeste muttered sarcastically before the man and two others, whose suits were barely concealed in the sheets they were wearing, walked up, the sheik giving gifts and saying his family had grown by three, though they were females, and Calhoun motioned to the two as 'friends' who wished to go to Marrachesh.

"Peace be with you," Celeste said in Arabic, "and I hope your next child is a male to counteract your luck, though females can help in the strengthening of bonds between neighbors."

The sheik seemed surprised. "You speak the language...though your accent is different."

"It is that of Bahrain, the land of Two Waters, where I learned it from many of the inhabitants," Celeste told him with a smile and a bow, "Forgive this female for her questions, but what is the point of consorting with those men? The gold they give you will not bring you pleasure or fame, but only destruction and death. They are not to be trusted."

The sheik looked at the men, then at her. "I do what I must, to gain what I must."

"You are a fool, your Excellence, for they will not honor you as you honor them. They are worse then Heretics...they are Non-Believers who serve the Foul One. Will you be so drawn into their snare?"

The man nearest came up, unmasking himself as he also drew a gun. "I've had enough of this!" he yelled in English. "Grab the man!"

Celeste glared at him as he tried to threaten Illya with 'tearing his tongue out', though a quick notice of Remy with the machine gun changed the tune quickly.

"There is no Legion!" the THRUSH man yelled at Calhoun's trying to speak of Legion soil.

Illya moved away, taking the gun from Remy as the other man grabbed Celeste.

"Oh, hell no." She said before tossing him over, ignoring the small cut she got before kicking the other man down with a roundhouse. "I'm tired of you lot! Now STAY DOWN!" She picked up the dropped gun and glared at the man before telling the sheik in Arabic, "You should've told him, but after being his prisoner for the night, I can understand your reasons. He needed the Legion, as the Legion needed him."

Of course, at that point the half-track with Napoleon just had to come...

"Did you have to leave us and pretend to be mad?" Celeste asked on the ride back after the tearful reunion between Calhoun and his Machushla, which just meant a lot of sap and hugs and a few instances of kisses and such.

Elaine glared at her friend before noting, "Illya was the one who said we weren't reliable."

"Then you should've left him there," Celeste pointed out, "Microfilm or not."

"Hey!"

"No offense, but I've had enough desert time. One more and I would've gone insane."

Illya smiled at her before Napoleon looked back. "Don't worry. We'll find a way to make you repay us."

As their hands interlocked without the other's notice, Celeste sent Illya a smirk before Illya said, "Now I'm really afraid."

Celeste turned and sighed, looking up at the ceiling as she tried to figure out what it was that was keeping her awake. A thought came to her, making her blush before she slowly stood up and, silently, headed back towards the lab where Illya was stuck for the night.

Hell, she thought as she walked there, if Elaine and Napoleon can...

Illya looked up from her work as she entered in. "Yes?"

"I couldn't sleep."

A frown, then his head bent back over the microscope. "I see. Well, I must do a test on this."

A sigh escaped Celeste's lips. "Okay then."

There wasn't long of a pause before he stated, "It should take the machine a good thirty minutes to figure it out. You can stay here until then."

Celeste smiled as Illya put the specimen into the machine.

She slept quite well that night, though not in her own room.