"Illya? Did you call Medical to arrange a transfer?" Napoleon was sitting up in his hospital bed. He was feeling antsy; he had been admitted to Glen Falls Hospital in upstate New York two days earlier for a severely wrenched knee.

His partner had just walked into his room. "No. I ran into your doctor down the hall and he informed me that he plans to discharge you, so a transfer is unnecessary. He is doing his rounds as we speak, so he will be here shortly."

"He can't get here fast enough. I want to get back to the City!" Napoleon groused as he folded his arms across his chest.

"Be patient, Napoleon. For once, I am happy that we had a junior team with us during this affair. Bonner and Maxwell handed Mr. Waverly the microchip the moment they returned to Headquarters and because they did, I was allowed to stay with you. Bonner and I were horrified to see you slip and roll down that hill. When you slammed into that tree, I thought you had broken your leg."

Napoleon shuddered. "So did I. Maxwell and I had just eluded four THRUSH goons who were a little unhappy that we had shot the satrap leader and stolen the microchip." He sighed. "All we had to do was run down the hill to the car where you were. When I tripped on that stupid tree root…I remember thinking as I went airborne, 'Oh, this can't be good.' When I hit a tree, it knocked the air out of me and I was in agony when my knee banged into a rock. If Max hadn't pulled me up by my jacket and dragged me to the car, I might still be lying there."

It was Illya's turn to shudder. "Watching you colliding with things as you fell was hard to see. Fortunately, we were not that far from here. They dropped us off and then headed for New York City."

Napoleon rubbed his forehead. "I must have really been out of it; I didn't realize they took the car. How are we getting back?"

Before the Russian could answer, the door opened and the doctor entered. "Good morning, Mr. Solange. I'm Doctor Frank. How are we feeling?"

"We are ready to get out of here, Doctor. So, how about it?"

"As you know, your knee is badly sprained so you'll have to use crutches to get around for a while. I'll write you a prescription for pain medication and I'll want to see you at my office in a week for follow – up."

"Thank you, but I'll be using my own physician for my continued care. I'd like to leave now."

"Yes. Well, I'm going to send Raul in to show you how to use the crutches before…" The doctor's voice faded when he saw his patient's expression change. "You, you need to practice using…"

"I already know how to use crutches," Napoleon interrupted, "As I said: I am ready to leave. Now."

When he tried to explain it later, Dr. Frank would say that somehow the man in the bed and the smaller man standing near the window began to project danger. They hadn't moved, but suddenly he felt outnumbered and cornered. "Of course," he said. "The orderly will be here in a few minutes to take you downstairs."

Napoleon looked like he was going to say something else, but Illya signaled him to stand down. He nodded and said, "Thank you, Doctor. I do appreciate the help I received at this facility."

"You're welcome, Mr. Solange. Good luck to you." He nodded to the other man and left the room.

"You should not have intimidated him, Napoleon. It is not his fault that you are a clumsy ox."

"I know, I just want to get out of here."

"I do not know why; you look very cute in your pale-yellow hospital gown."

"Shut up."

The Russian grinned and then assembled his communicator. "Open Channel D, please."

"Yes, Mr. Kuryakin, how is Mr. Solo?"

"Discharged, Sir, but on crutches. Is it possible to send a helicopter to extract us?"

"Yes. Rutland Southern Regional Airport is approximately forty miles away. Do you have a way to get there?"

"Not really. Our funds are limited and with Napoleon on crutches…"

"Very well. There's a field two miles east of where you are. The chopper will meet you there." Illya heard the click that told him Waverly had signed off. He handed Napoleon his clothes from the closet.

The CEA looked at the dirty torn items distastefully before starting to get dressed. "The Budget Office is going to love us: a hospital bill, using the helicopter, replacing my suit…"

"Oh, stop your whining, Napoleon. Look at the bright side: The affair is over and for once, I am not injured."

"Thanks."