Disclaimer: I don't own anyone apart from the bad guys

Paperwork, the bane of the fields agent's existence. While it had to be done, Napoleon wished he could just have someone else do it, but he had to write up his own experiences on any given mission and until they employed a genuine telepath, he was stuck with the tedious task. Sometimes, when he was able to charm the right female operative, he was able to convince them to type it up, but everyone was already busy with their own work.

Sighing, he looked across the room at Illya, who had finished his report and was tinkering with some little gadget.

Screwing up the third failed attempt, Napoleon threw the sheet of paper at the bin, to join the first two.

"If I have to start this report again, I'm going to go crazy." He said, reeling in a new sheet of paper

"That would be entertaining to watch." Illya commented, not looking up from his work.

"You know, it still amazes me the wonderful advancements of technology and yet we still have to type up our reports on typewriters."

Illya sighed and chose not to comment. He was starting to wonder if he should move to one of the labs. It would free him of Napoleon's complaining.

Napoleon sighed and started typing again. He stopped at the first paragraph.

"I need a cup of coffee." He announced. "That sound focus the mind."

"Or create a pointless distraction." Illya put down his screwdriver and stood up. "I will make the coffee while you write."

"Thanks." Napoleon said, sounding anything but grateful. Before he could type another word his communicator beeped.

"Mr Solo," The voice on the other end said. "Mr Waverly would like to see you and Mr. Kuryakin in his officer right away."

"We'll be right there." He said, happily.

"You have been granted a reprieved." Illya observed, picking up his jacket.

"Wonderful" Solo jumped up, smiling as he headed for the door,

"But never fear, the report will be waiting for you when you return," Illy said, with the barest hint of a smile. Solo was tempted to literally boot him out the door

Upon entering Waverly's office, they automatically took their seats at the revolving desk.

"Ah, gentlemen," Waverly greeted from his usual chair, "I hope those reports will be finished soon."

"Mine are, sir." Illya said, giving Napoleon a quick glance who just scowled.

"Good, well, I have something I need the two of you to look into in the meantime." Waverly lowered the lights in the room and turned on the projector, which displayed an image of a middle aged man with dark hair and a goatee.

"This, gentlemen, is Dr. Arnold Romulus, a high ranking scientist in THRUSH who hasn't been seen in over eight years." The next slide showed the man entering a building surrounded by a couple of heavily built men. He looked more or less the same except minus the goatee. "One of our agents, while on another assignment recognised him and took this picture of him entering St Theresa's Psychiatric Hospital in New Jersey."

"An odd place to be visiting." Napoleon said.

"We're not sure if he was." Waverly turned off the projector and turned on the lights. "We've had an agent watching the place for the past week and he hasn't left."

"You think he was committed?" Illya asked

"It doesn't seem likely." Napoleon said. "I doubt THRUSH cares much for their member's mental health. They'd just dispose of them. Permanently"

"Or promote them." Illya couldn't help saying. Napoleon smiled.

"Quite." Waverly said, producing his pipe." So we need to know what he's doing there. We tried contacting the administration, but they don't want to give out any information, saying it's all confidential. We don't have any proof that he's doing anything nefarious in there, however, we were able to find out about two unexplained deaths occurring since his admittance, but neither of them seems to have been investigated. Both were classed as accidental. I think it's worth checking out."

"By checking out, I suppose you mean by...checking in." Napoleon said, not liking where this was heading.

"You could say that." Waverly lit his pipe. "Mr. Kuryakin will go undercover as a patient. While there, you will find Dr. Romulus and observe his activities."

"You want me to get myself committed?" Illya asked, clarifying.

"I always suspected you weren't quite right in the head." Napoleon teased.

Illya rolled his eyes. "It's putting up with you." He mumbled.

"How you get committed I'll leave up to you." Waverly continued. "As for you Mr. Solo, I'd like you to speak to some of the staff. See if you can get any information out of them."

"That would include nurses, I presume." He said, with a hint of a smile.

"Indeed. Anyone who might be able to shed some light on the matter."

"I'm sure I can make someone talk."

Illya rolled his eyes. Waverly just nodded. "I'm sure you can. Dismissed."

Leaving the room, side by side, Napoleon stopped just outside the door.

"So, any ideas how you're going to convince anyone you're coo coo bananas?" Napoleon asked.

"I'm considering what the most convincing approach would be. Anything too over the top would be suspicious. I would also need to keep a low profile, so maybe severe depression."

Napoleon nodded. "I think you should just be yourself"

"No more joking, Napoleon..." Illya said, sounding irritated. He didn't like the thought of this assignment as it was. He'd never been inside a mental hospital as a patient before and if they were anything like the ones back in Russia, he'd need to be constantly on his guard.

"Hear me out, my crazy Russian friend. I have an idea."