Napoleon Solo was out cold, lying in his bed in the Medical Suite at UNCLE headquarters in New York City. He'd been injured not while on assignment but in a traffic accident only a few blocks from Del Floria's.
The taxi he was sharing with his partner was was hit by a city bus as it made too wide a turn. That sent the cab flying into a rollover, coming to a stop as it wrapped around a light pole.
Sadly the driver was killed, Kuryakin was initially pinned in the back while Solo was thrown out of the vehicle.
Illya managed to pry himself free, and though he suffered cuts and bruises, he had no serious injuries.
A crowd had gathered and he pushed his way through to get to an unconscious Napoleon who was laying there, passed out on the sidewalk, his head bloodied.
.
Hours later, Illya now sat at his partner's bedside waiting for him to come to; Napoleon had been x-rayed, stitched and deemed out of danger, though he was still out cold.
Finally a sound emerged from the bed; it was a long, slow moan followed by a grunt as Napoleon opened his eyes.
"Hello my friend, glad you have chosen to return to us." Illya leaned forward, speaking softly. "How do you feel?"
"I feel like...well I feel terrible. And who may I ask are you?"
"Umm, just a moment. If you would excuse me?" If Kuryakin was upset by this revelation, it didn't show. He went out into the grey corridor, calling the duty nurse who immediately contacted Doctor Greene.
The medical staff descended upon Napoleon's room, checking his vitals, pupil dilation, the stitches in his head and anything else they could think of.
Finally Illya was brought into the discussion, this time back out in the hallway.
"He checks out okay," Greene said."It maybe just a case of temporary amnesia, he did take a pretty hard hit to the head. Tell you what Illya, I'd like you to bring up some recent assignments to him that you've been on together. See what he recalls."
"That might not be possible as he does not even know who I am."
"Illya, you're not only his partner, but his best friend. If anyone can trigger a memory that can snap him out of this it's you. I really don't want to involve anyone from the Psych Department just yet."
"Thank you Doctor, I would not be happy if they were to become involved either."
"Yes I do know your feelings regarding them, as well as Napoleon's. I'm giving you a chance to bring him around before I report his amnesia to Mr. Waverly."
Illya sighed; the pressure was now on. If Napoleon did not get his memory back soon, he could be sent to the mental wing of the UNCLE sanitarium in upstate New York. He could end up in the sanitarium on a permanent basis. There were a few agents already residing there with head injuries, and Illya didn't want Napoleon being the newest addition.
He walked back into the room, gaining his partner's immediate attention.
"Hello again. Let me introduce myself...menya zovut Illya Kuryakin."
"I menya zovut …" Napoleon hesitated, but didn't flinch but switched to English."Well, everyone's been calling me Napoleon, but I don't know if that's my name. Kind of a weird name for the year 1963 wouldn't you say? One would think it was more apropos for 1804."
Illya nodded. His partner understood and spoke in Russian, and he was aware of the year as well as French history.
"That is good, you knew what year it is, and understood Russian as well as gave me the correct date when Napoleon Bonaparte ruled as Emperor of France."
"Oh? We're not in Russia?"
"No you are in the Medical wing of the New York headquarters of an organization called U.N.C.L.E. You and I are both in its employ."
"Uncle? Whose Uncle is that?"
"Not whose, but what. It is an acronym for the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement. "
"Wouldn't that be T.U.N.C.F.L.A.E."
For a brief second Illya thought his partner's memory had returned, or at least he hadn't lost his smart aleck sense of humor.
"No. It is merely the U.N.C.L.E."
"I suppose you're right, UNCLE sounds better. So law and enforcement you say. Does that mean we're cops?"
"Of a sort, actually we are more like spies. You see UNCLE is a clandestine international intelligence agency that employs agents of many nationalities. The organization helps to maintain political and legal order in the world as it protect and defend nations regardless of their political persuasion."
"That was a very nice textbook response tovar…ummm, I was just going to call you tovarisch. It feels as though it's something I always do."
"Yes you do, sometimes to my annoyance."
"Oh really? Anything else I do that annoys you?" There was a mischievous twinkle in Napoleon's eye.
"Maybe that might not be a good thing for you to remember."
"Good for you or me?"
"I am not going to answer that," Illya chuckled. "Perhaps it will trigger some recent memories by suggesting a few of our missions. We were recently on assignment in Barcelona..."
"Spain? I've never been to Spain, but I sort of like the music. Thought I hear the ladies of Spain are insane and really how to use it, if you get my drift? By the way Nurse Walsh is a real looker isn't she? A really nice package that I wouldn't mind unwrapping." He winked.
"Well your libido seems to be intact, but please Napoleon, do not let your mind wander. Let us continue; before Spain, we were in England, London to be precise, at our headquarters there."
"London, England. I've never been there though I do like the Beatles. They have some pretty catchy tunes, but give me Mantovanni any day." The American smiled.
Illya huffed. "How about Las Vegas? Surely you remember that as I had to disentangle you from that showgirl."
"Showgirl? Sounds nice but I don't think I ever made it to Vegas. I've been to Needles, pretty sure of that."
"I do not suppose you recall Oklahoma?" Illya asked; the look on his face was one of frustration.
"Nope...say was I born there?"
"No Napoleon you were born in New York. Your mother is from Canada and you speak French Canadian, which is why your French accent is so awful."
"And so say you Monsieur Kuryakin," Napoleon spoke in French.
That not only elicited an eye roll from Kuryakin but a slap to his forehead as well.
"Say are you hungry Illya? What am I saying, you're always hungry."
"Wait, you remember that Napoleon?"
"Oh I remember it all,' he whispered."I'm just milking this for all it's worth and that includes sponge baths and full massages by Nurse Walsh." he whispered.
"You mean all this time you have let me go on and on when you were just faking your amnesia?"
"I wasn't faking it all the time. As soon as you mentioned Vegas, it all came back...especially images of that busty showgirl."
"Napoleon you are impossible!" Kuryakin hissed.
"Illya, really was it that bad?"
"Yes, the whole time I was worrying that I was going to lose you to the UNCLE sanitarium, and that you would have forgotten me permanently?"
"Sorry, I didn't think of that. All right, tell Doctor Greene that I've gotten my memory back, but maybe you could just suggest to him that I'm kept for another twenty-four hours of observation, just to be on the safe side?"
"As payback I should tell him you were faking it because of the anxiety you have caused me...but I will not, just this once." Illya let go a long sigh."I am glad you are well my friend."
"Me too."
"We will leave it at that Napoleon." Illya merely shook his head as he walked out the door, massaging his temples as he disappeared into the corridor.
"Illya are you all right?" Nurse Walsh asked.
"I have a splitting headache."
"Come on, I can take care of that for you," she grabbed him by the hand and led him to an empty room, ordering him to remove his jacket and shirt and to lay down on the bed.
He complied without question, and watched as she squeezed out massage oil from a bottle onto his upper back. Immediately, she began a deep massage of his shoulders,, neck and arms."
"Illya your muscles are really knotted up. No wonder you have a headache. Are you worried about Napoleon."
"I was but now he is fine. He just needs a little alone time to settle his thoughts. I was coming out to inform Doctor Greene."
"Don't worry about that, I'll take care of it. And I'll make sure Napoleon his left completely alone."
"He may feign complete recovery," Illya said," but I would suggest that he be kept for observation for another twenty-four to forty-eight hours just to be on the safe side. Please, no pretty nurses to tend to him as they might get him worked up, if you know what I mean?"
"Oh I understand completely. I'll make sure Doctor Greene knows; he does value your opinion when it comes to Napoleon. I'll schedule Nurse Ratched to take care of him."
"Perfect. Thank you Nurse Walsh, my headache is completely gone." He sat up in the bed to get up.
"Where are you going, your treatment isn't done yet." She walked to the door and locked it and as she turned, she unbuttoned the top of her white uniform, exposing her breasts in a very revealing white lace brassiere.
Illya couldn't help but smile, as he always found her quite attractive. "Are you not on duty?"
"Nope, I finished my shift fifteen minutes ago."
"Nurse Walsh, I put myself in your capable hands," he undid his trousers...