The snow was getting heavier, so Napoleon decided to cut short his security patrol. There were five other agents patrolling, but they wouldn't have the luxury of going back inside the cabin. Apart from Illya that was. Kuryakin and Solo, along with Slate and Dancer, were guests of the Waverlys for their pre-Christmas getaway. It was only for a weekend, but it was something Veronica Waverly insisted on. Her husband agreed, but always made sure to have enough security. Mrs Waverly had thought eight bodyguards was maybe being a little too cautious, but she relented when Mr Waverly told her his top four agents were to be their guests, not just their security.

Napoleon stood his snowshoes in the snow and headed into the cabin. He shook himself off on the porch before going into the welcoming warmth within. Sitting around the dining table, with steaming mugs of cocoa, the Waverlys, Mark, and April were playing Monopoly.

"There is cocoa on the stove if you want some," Mrs Waverly told him.

"Thank you," Solo replied, with genuine gratitude. "The snow is really beginning to set in out there. I doubt THRUSH will try anything in that."

"Would you like to join the game Napoleon?" asked April. "We've only been around the board a couple of times."

Solo removed his coat and boots, and then sat at the table, accepting his playing money from Mr Waverly. The Old Man always insisted on being the banker.

"I'm surprised Illya has come back in yet," Mark commented, sighing as he landed on 'Go to Jail'.

"For some reason he likes the snow," Solo replied. "I suppose it reminds him of home."

Forty-five minutes later, Illya still hadn't returned. Even though nobody in the room actually voiced it, they were all beginning to get a little worried. Napoleon activated his communicator and tried to make contact with his absent partner. After several fruitless attempts, he switched channels to speak to the other four patrolling agents.

"Has anyone seen Kuryakin?"

He received a negative from each man, causing a knot to form in his stomach.

"Okay, I want you search for him, without compromising security. I'll be out to join you shortly."

"You don't suppose THRUSH are out there do you?" Mrs Waverly asked, taking hold of her husband's hand.

"There's no need to fret my dear," Waverly soothed. "I sure it's probably just a faulty communicator.

Mark and April stood up, intending to join Napoleon in the search, but he told them to stand down.

"You need to stay here," he told them. "I'm sure there's nothing to worry about, but you'd better keep guard inside the cabin."

It took a few minutes to get back into his boots and coat, but Napoleon was soon out in the blizzard again. He fitted the snowshoes onto his feet and began his search. It wasn't easy, as visibility was limited and the snow kept changing direction. Solo had to fight the urge to call Illya's name. If there were any bad guys, it wouldn't really do to advertise his position. He did keep trying with his communicator however. The beeping from his partner's device was a risk he had to take. With any luck, the sound would help him to locate the missing man.

Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, he picked up a faint beeping. Listening carefully, he managed to follow the sound and soon happened on the very unconscious form of Illya Kuryakin. The visible breath coming from him was enough to calm Napoleon a little. Crouching down he patted Illya's face an attempt to rouse him. The Russian moaned as he came to, indicating to Solo that he was hurt somehow.

"What happened?" Illya asked.

"I was going to ask you that? What hurts?"

"My head," Kuryakin replied, "I remember now. I lost my footing in a hidden dip, and I must have hit my head on something hard under the snow."

Very Carefully, Illya sat up, but it wasn't until he tried to stand that he felt a sharp pain in his ankle.

…

In the cabin, Mark and April were pacing, under the guise of patrolling. Nobody spoke until Mark's communicator went off.

"Slate."

"I've got Illya," came the strained voice of Napoleon. "He slipped and fell. His ankle is hurt and he banged his head. We'll be back there in ten minutes."

Mrs Waverly immediately sprang into action.

"Alex, get the first aid kit. April dear, there are some hot water bottles in the closet in our bedroom. Would you fetch them and fill them up? Mark, wait here for Napoleon, then help him to bring poor Illya to his room. I'll go and get it ready."

Within half an hour, Illya was tucked up in bed, with many hot water bottles. Mrs Waverly had been a nurse during the war, so her medical knowledge told her enough to know that his bumped head wasn't too bad. His ankle, which everyone had thought to be broken, seemed to only be a sprain. It was now wrapped up, and Illya was under strict instructions to get himself checked out properly upon their return to the city. After ensuring he had a warm mug of cocoa, she led her husband form the room, and left the agents alone.

"That young man often amazes me," Waverly said, as he and Veronica cuddled up to each other on the couch.

"How so?"

"He has received more injuries than any man I've ever known," he explained. "There can't be a bone he hasn't broken. Yet, he goes on. I bet even now, he's arguing to get out of bed."

"That sounds a lot like a man I know," Veronica replied. "You used to get injured a lot, as I recall. Even now, you don't let illness ever get in the way of your importance to U.N.C.L.E. Those young people up there follow your example, and that's no bad thing."

Alexander Waverly smiled. He gently kissed his wife's forehead and they both dozed off in front of the crackling fire.