It was always a nerve-wracking moment, raiding a THRUSH stronghold to recover an imprisoned partner. There was no way of knowing what to expect—what condition the partner would be in. For Illya, it had been two weeks since Napoleon had been captured, and the Russian had spent every hour thinking only of finding him again.

Now, he had found where he had been held; THRUSH had flown the coop and hadn't bothered to take prisoners with them. As other U.N.C.L.E. agents freed the other prisoners, Illya looked in each cell for Napoleon until-

"Hey, glad you could make it!"

Illya paused, looking into a cell to see Napoleon, reclining on a cot and propping himself up with one arm, looking at him as he used his free hand to wave to him. He was dressed in a THRUSH prisoner's uniform, like all the other captives, but he seemed be unharmed and in high spirits.

"Are you alright?" Illya asked, as he unlocked the cell door.

"Well, I've been bored out of my mind, but, otherwise, I'm fine," Napoleon said. "I don't suppose you managed to recover the clothes THRUSH took from me? They were very determined to ensure that I didn't have access to any secret pockets that I could have hidden things in…"

"Sadly, Napoleon, they searched your suit for hidden pockets—very, very thoroughly," Illya said.

Napoleon let his face fall.

"Say it isn't so-!" he exclaimed, holding his arm up to his forehead for a melodramatic effect.

"Shredded," Illya finished, apologetically. "But cheer up. I am sure you will be reimbursed, since the damage was clearly done by overzealous THRUSHies. Your wardrobe will recover."

"I suppose I can live with that," Napoleon said, with a mock sigh. "Now let's get out of here; I want to go home and put my feet up."

"You have earned it," Illya said. "But are you certain you are well enough?"

"I feel fine," Napoleon insisted. "They didn't try anything while I was here—surprisingly. They just kept me around in this cell. To be honest, I was beginning to wonder why I was even here, if they weren't going to even try to interrogate me."

"They didn't question you at all? About anything?"

"Nope—not a thing," Napoleon said, as he and Illya exited the cell. "Were they making a ransom or trade offer for me?"

Illya shook his head.

"How odd…" the Russian then mused. "You are C.E.A., after all. As you said, one would expect them to have at least tried to question you."

"Yeah, you'd think…" Napoleon said. He held out his arms, and, sure enough, there wasn't a mark on them—not even a bruise. "Huh. Well, as long as I get my suit reimbursed, I can't complain. Are we going home?"

"You are certain you don't want to stop at Medical first and make sure there is nothing wrong?"

"I feel perfect," Napoleon said, with a shrug. "Just let me kick back and relax—that's all I need. Maybe we can spend the rest of the day relaxing."

"Very well," Illya said. "But you appear to have lost your sense of time being cooped up here."

"Oh?"

"It's past suppertime; there is no 'rest of the day,' Napoleon."

"…You gave up a meal for me? Wow, you really do care!"

Illya smiled.

"Of course I did. With my worry, I have barely had an appetite these past two weeks. Come; let's help the other prisoners—if you are certain you are up to it."

"Couldn't be better," Napoleon insisted.

Satisfied, Illya nodded.

They spared a bit of time to help the other prisoners (most of them independent scientists and THRUSH defectors rather than U.N.C.L.E. agents like Napoleon), after which Illya was insistent that Napoleon get some proper nutrition; they headed to U.N.C.L.E. HQ for Napoleon to change and for them to grab a quick supper at the commissary. They then quickly met with Waverly, who noted that it was good to see Napoleon back, and that he could take a few days' rest before coming back to work. Napoleon nodded and opted to take him up on the offer, but denying that he needed to see Medical. Waverly knew better than trying to coax either of the two partners into seeing Medical, and so, he let the matter drop, trusting Illya to look after Napoleon.

The two partners made it home to the apartment soon after, and Baba Yaga the Egyptian Mau greeted the two of them warmly—Napoleon especially, as she hadn't seen him in two weeks.

"I see you snuck her back home," Napoleon said, gathering the cat in his arms. Baba Yaga purred in response, pleased.

"Da," Illya said, through a loud yawn. "She has been worried about you, too; it made sense for us to worry together."

Napoleon chuckled slightly and cooed to the cat for a while before setting her down on her basket and changing to his purple silk pajamas. He took a moment to enjoy the feeling as he relaxed in the comfort of a familiar bed at last and fell asleep soon after that.

Initially, Illya hadn't thought much of finding that Napoleon wasn't in the apartment the next morning; Napoleon often ducked out early if he found that they needed some groceries, or if he was in the mood for a jog—and, more than likely, after being cooped up for two whole weeks, Napoleon was pretty much expected to be stir crazy and would have welcomed the chance to exercise his restless legs by taking a run in Central Park. And so, Illya was mostly unconcerned about Napoleon's absence in the apartment as he read the morning paper and drank his morning tea, repeatedly shaking off the insistent nagging voice that always seemed to accompany a recent rescue.

He clicked his tongue as he read a report about another monster sighting in Midtown Manhattan—a bipedal, black-furred creature known as the Beast of Broadway, as the papers had called it since the sightings had begun—also around two weeks ago. But Illya had been so preoccupied with finding Napoleon, he hadn't bothered to pay any attention to the wild claims. Now that he had the opportunity to relax, he proceeded to read about the sightings and scoff at them.

"Beast of Broadway," he muttered to Baba Yaga, who was loafing on the coffee table. "More like Beast of Bourbon. Or something else they have been drinking…"

He trailed off as Napoleon suddenly ran into the apartment, slamming the door behind him, gasping for breath. His face was very red, as though he had run all the way here, but what concerned Illya most was that his partner was still dressed in his purple silk pajamas—or, rather, what was left of them, as they were now in tatters around Napoleon's frame. Napoleon had, clearly, tied a some of the strips of cloth from his shirt and pant cuffs around his waist to help preserve his dignity on the way back to the apartment.

"What happened to you!?" Illya asked, as Baba Yaga stood up and meowed in concern. "Were you mugged!? And why were you out and about in your pajamas!?"

"I don't know," Napoleon said, shaking his head in utter befuddlement. "I think I must have been sleepwalking. Do you have any idea what time I left?"

"I heard the apartment door open and close around 4—I thought you wanted to get an early start to the day for whatever reason, so I went back to sleep."

"When Waverly gave me the day off after my rescue from THRUSH? I was planning to stay in and see if I could have breakfast in bed," Napoleon muttered. "Sleepwalking. I haven't done that since I was five!"

"Yes, I remember Mother saying she used to tie your foot to the bed…" Illya mused, referring to Napoleon's mother.

"…She told you that!?"

"She tells me everything," Illya replied, without missing a beat. "At least you had the foresight to take the apartment key before you sleepwalked out the door. Though it's not at all uncommon for people to take their keys and even drive whilst asleep. In all seriousness, I don't want you wandering around or driving around Manhattan traffic. Something has already happened to you. Do you remember anything?"

"Nope," Napoleon groaned. "Woke up somewhere on 42nd Street. I must have come across as a very bizarre vagrant in tattered silk pajamas…" He winced and looked at what remained of them. "These were imported…!"

"Be grateful that nothing worse happened," Illya said. "Where did they hurt you

"Well… Right around…" Napoleon trailed off, looking at his skin that was visible among the tatters. "Um… nowhere."

"What?"

"There isn't a mark on me," Napoleon said, trying to get a look at his back. "I'm not hurting anywhere, either."

"Well, your pajamas didn't just rip themselves!" Illya scoffed. "Someone did that!"

"I'll figure that out later," Napoleon muttered. "Right now, I just want to change and get something to eat."

Illya murmured a sound of assent, and continued reading the article about the Beast of Broadway as Napoleon moved to leave the room—and then spat out a mouthful of tea, causing Napoleon to stop.

"What?" Napoleon asked.

"…Nothing," Illya lied.

"…Give me the paper."

"Nyet!"

"Give. Me. The. Paper."

Baba Yaga watched in concern as, finally, Napoleon tore off the page that Illya had been trying to conceal.

"Beast of Broadway?" he asked.

"Sightings have been going on for two weeks—must be drunkards," Illya said hastily. "You can give that back-" He cringed as Napoleon paled upon reading what Illya had read moments ago.

"…'The black-furred Beast was spotted early this morning on 42nd Street, wearing the remains of what seemed like purple silk…' …Oh, God, no…"

"Napoleon…" Illya said, getting up and gently grabbing him by the shoulders. "Napoleon, I am certain there is an explanation for this-"

"Of course there is—I'm turning into a were-beast!" he practically yelled. "Illya, what am I gonna do!? What-!"

"First, you must remain calm," Illya whispered. He could feel Napoleon tremble.

"How am I supposed to remain calm!?" Napoleon asked, his voice cracking. "How are you staying so calm when I could transform again right here and attack you!?"

"Because I have the utmost faith in you," Illya said. "Whatever is happening, we are going to get to the bottom of this. Trust me. And trust yourself, as I trust you. Now, breathe with me."

Napoleon matched his breathing, and Illya could feel him calm down as his shaking subsided.

"Thank you," Napoleon whispered. "But what happens now?"

"Now, you will change and we will have Medical take a look at you. We won't tell them anything; we'll just say we want them to see if there is anything out of the ordinary."

"R-Right…"

"And then," Illya continued. "We will find out exactly what happened while you were a prisoner of THRUSH. These Beast of Broadway sightings started just after they had captured you. It could be that, rather than interrogate you, they experimented on you instead. But whatever it is they have done, we will find a way to reverse it. Believe me—I will find a way."

Napoleon swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.

If anyone could figure this out, it would be his loyal Illya. Of that, he had the utmost faith.