A/N: I fought against this bunny. For starters, it's probably been 5 years since I last wrote a fic. I'm rusty at it. I don't even remember my password! So, that terrified me.
And, second, I'm brand new to this fandom. Like really new. Thanks to MeTV starting to air episodes in September new. It didn't take long for this show to become my newest obsession. So, this is my first trip here. I'm so sorry for any OOC. As I said, I'm new.
And this probably should be a multi-chapter. It's not. I had bad experiences writing multi-chapters.
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer. Don't own anything. Just borrowing for the time being. I'll bring them back relatively unharmed. And I still feel I should apologize for this.
Missing Presumed Dead
He didn't know how long he'd been walking, where he was leaving and where he was going. He really wasn't aware of anything, just the nearly unbearable pain down his right side and his knee. His head felt like an axe was embedded in his skull, and he wasn't entirely sure if that feeling wasn't far from the truth. Whatever that was. Plus, he couldn't see much, probably due to the pouring rain and one eye that wouldn't open.
Just keep walking along this road. I'll find help.
Katie McBride drove through the pouring rain, replaying the argument she had with her mother. She turned the radio off, silencing Mickey Dolenz's singing. Her little sister loved The Monkees. Katie personally thought they were a poor man's Beatles, and their show was stupid, although the music was OK. But, between her swirling thoughts about the argument about her major with her mother, her dad having to leave because of an emergency at the hospital. Daddy understood. She could talk to him about anything. Mom just thought college was made for one thing…
She sighed. She needed to stop replaying this argument. She probably should have spent the night and driven back in the morning, due to the rain. But, she needed to get away.
Out of the corner of her eye, she swore she saw a man limping on the other side of the highway. She pulled over, and pulling up the hood of her rain coat, she rolled down her window to make sure. It wasn't her imagination. Medium height, blond, sort of in a daze. Katie hesitated, unsure what to do. He acted like he was hurt, but he could also be stoned or drunk. Picking up someone probably wasn't a good idea.
On the other hand, Mom's voice was ringing in her ears from the argument. Katelyn, find a nice boy. Settle down. What else are you doing in college? Maybe this guy is the one. You'll never know if you don't try…
She pulled the car around to the other side and popped open the passenger's door. "Need a ride?" she blurted out, kicking herself for saying that.
The man either didn't hear her or ignored her as he continued his slow limp down the shoulder. She grabbed her umbrella and got out of the car. She stepped in front of the man, and now she could see that he was hurt. His arm was deformed and swollen with broken bones. He looked beat up. He was also swaying on his feet. "Please?" Katie asked, holding out her hand. "I want to help you."
The man mumbled something that sounded like Russian, causing her to hesitate again. He may have not understood her. Plus, Russian? That seemed like she was getting involved in something that she probably shouldn't be. Still, there was no turning back now. Although he tried to back away, he wasn't able to offer much resistance to Katie gently pulling him into the car. By the time Katie started the car, the man was unconscious.
What have I done?
Katie gave up trying to wake the man up pretty quickly. The rain was making it virtually impossible, and the man wasn't responding to much of anything. He felt feverish to the touch. Plus, he was lost in his own fever world, mostly mumbling in Russian, but occasionally throwing in an English word around. Katie caught the word "Uncle" a few times. He also called a name out, which sounded "Napoleon," but Katie figured it was the fever talking.
Arriving at the hospital, she looked over at him, trying to figure out the best way to get him inside. His eye was open, but she was positive he wasn't aware of her. "I'm going to get help, alright? Will you stay here for me?" The eye closed again.
Going into the hospital, Katie prayed she wouldn't run into the new associate, Dr. Hawkins. Something about the woman rubbed her the wrong way. There was something phony about her. Katie had an idea that the Hippocratic Oath wasn't too high on the good doctor's list of priorities. But, as luck would have it, Dr. Michael McBride was standing at the nurses' station, filling out paperwork and talking to Janice. "Katydid," he greeted her by his pet name for her. "Your mother said you took off. I figured you'd be in that cubical you call a dorm room by now. What's going on?"
"Can you come with me?"
On their way out, Katie explained what happened. He was about ready to reprimand his daughter for her actions, but they arrived at the car before the words came out. Her passenger was still in the car, feverish and barely conscious, mumbling incoherently. He found the young man's pulse fairly steady and strong, although there were decreased breath sounds on his right side, as though broken ribs were pressing in on his lung. Even though he didn't have x-rays, he was confident those would heal in time. The knee was swollen, and x-rays would help see what's going on there too. More worrisome was badly broken arm. His arm looked like someone tried to wring it off of him. The biggest problem was the head injury. He'd sustained blunt force trauma, with a definite concussion and possibly a fracture. Who knows where he was coming from and even how he was walking.
"Kate, go get Janice. Tell her to bring a gurney. Then, go home. We'll talk about this tomorrow before you leave for school."
Katie obeyed, thankful it was Janice she was told to get. But, she hung around, watching as Daddy and Janice wheeled the man into the ER, feeling very protective.
Napoleon entered U.N.C.L.E. headquarters, feeling in his gut that something was wrong. Other than his knee that he had twisted on the last affair. He frustrated him, but he had to admit that the time off was nice. And his knee was as good as ever.
Wanda smiled sadly at him as she pinned his badge to his pocket. "How are you doing, Napoleon?"
"Couldn't be better. The knee is fine. I can now take you dancing whenever you want."
"You hadn't heard?" Wanda looked down. "You're supposed to report to Mr. Waverly when you arrive."
"Better not keep him waiting then."
He walked through the halls, becoming aware of whispers and stares. He glanced in the office he shared with his partner. Illya wasn't there. Figuring he was already in Waverly's office, Napoleon didn't hesitate as he made his way down the hall to Waverly's office.
"Have a seat, Mr. Solo," the elderly man's cultured, measured voice rang out from the other side of the room.
Napoleon noticed even before he walked in the door that it was just the two of them. "Where's Illya?"
"Have a seat." After Napoleon sat down on the other side of the round table, Waverly fingered his pipe. "Mr. Solo, I have some difficult news to give you. While you were recuperating from your knee injury, I sent Mr. Kuryakin to Colorado to investigate rumors that a Thrush satrap was being developed near a college town in an effort to recruit certain students who showed aptitude. This was a simple reconnaissance mission, just to get evidence. Five days ago, he reported that he had been identified, and he hasn't reported in since then. I contacted our field office in Denver to investigate. They found the car that Mr. Kuryakin had been driving."
At that, Waverly turned the table so the open file would be in front of Napoleon. He lit his pipe has the agent looked at the pictures of the smashed car.
"I don't understand…"
"Mr. Turner and Mr. Bryant of our Denver field office reported that Mr. Kuryakin seemed to have a blowout on a deserted stretch of highway, and his car went into the river."
Napoleon felt his eyes sting as he looked through the pictures. "Where's his body?"
"Mr. Kuryakin wasn't found. Mr. Turner and Mr. Bryant theorized that he was thrown from the car and he may have drowned."
One of the pictures caught his eye. The tire was nearly intact, hanging on its rim. "Is that a bullet hole?"
Waverly smoked his pipe and studied Napoleon.
Thrush, Napoleon growled to himself. Why was it always Thrush? And why do these things always happen to Illya? What if he wasn't dead? What if he'd been injured and now being held captive in a developing Thrush satrap? One of the pictures made him pause for a closer look. He held up the picture of the interior of the car. "This has been staged. The gear shift is in neutral."
"Mr. Solo, sometimes accidents happen. Sometimes they're not accidents. We have other affairs, other agents." Waverly set down his pipe. "Mr. Solo, I know that you have just come back from recuperation on your knee, but I'm allowing you two weeks to deal with this news. Might I suggest the mountains? I hear they're beautiful this time of year."
Dr. George Miller quickly closed his file as his students filed into the classroom. He studied the faces, as he always did, trying to determine which faces matched which term paper. He'd graded the papers not only by content and quality but also ideals that matched Thrush's. Thrush was after the best, the brightest, and probably the most gullible. There were about a dozen students in the classroom that showed real promise. A few needed to be cultivated.
Besides, focusing on this match game he was playing helped distract Miller from the dressing down he and Lenny had received from the boss. After all, it wasn't their fault. The boss should have prepared them better when going against an U.N.C.L.E. agent. Neither he nor the simple-minded giant had even seen an U.N.C.L.E. agent, let alone tangled with one. After Lenny had shot out the tire of the Mustang he was tooling around with, and they pulled the injured, but fighting mad, man from the wreck, George figured that after a few rounds with Lenny, the man would be ready to talk. To spill every secret about the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement that he knew of.
Miller had heard of Russian stubbornness before. But, this became ridiculous, although Miller, who had no stomach for violence, was fascinated by the almost art being created between Lenny and this agent. The agent generally didn't say anything other than his name, Illya Kuryakin, and a few smart remarks directed at Millers, which would cause him to order Lenny to beat it out of him. Which Lenny did eagerly. He was like a big dumb puppy. Unlike this Kuryakin guy who was tough, smart, and wily. Miller was confident that he'd break. They just needed time.
Then other U.N.C.L.E. agents came nosing around. Miller called the boss with his idea—Lenny would finish damaging the Mustang, and then push it in the river. U.N.C.L.E. would just think it was a simple, tragic accident. Happens all the time on these roads. The boss agreed, with some caution, emphasizing that Kuryakin was especially talented at getting out of sticky situations. She said that time was of the essence.
The U.N.C.L.E. agents found the car and left. Everything was falling into place, until Kuryakin took an opportunity and tried to escape. In a rare fit of anger, Lenny took a baseball bat and started swinging. After he was done, Kuryakin lay motionless on the floor of the cabin. Miller thought he was dead. No one could survive that, or so he thought. Lenny thought he was dead. He started sobbing, so Miller took Lenny into town to drink at one of the college bars. They found a bar, Lenny found a dog to play with, so he was happy again, while Miller found some eager co-eds who were willing to do anything for an A, so he was happy again.
All in all, it had been a good night…
Until they drove back to the cabin several hours later after waiting out the rainstorm with a new A+ student. The cabin was deserted. Which either meant that Kuryakin's body had been found, or that he was still alive and still mobile enough to make a successful escape. Neither scenario made Miller happy, especially after figuring the latter scenario was more likely. Lenny had shrugged and went to bed, leaving Miller to figure out how to tell the boss. Which he did the next day. After a 30 minute dressing down and ridicule session, the boss gave him an order: find Kuryakin and fix this.
Miller looked up from his desk to see nearly 75 pairs of confused eyes looking at him. The best and the brightest, he sarcastically thought as he locked his gaze upon his new A+ student. Heaven help Thrush.
"Sir? You wished to see me?" The girl's voice interrupted Miller as he erased the chalkboard. He turned to her, and she held up her paper. He suppressed a smile. This was one of the students who showed a lot of promise for Thrush. So idealistic and immature. It would be easy to corrupt her.
"Yes, Miss McBride. This paper certainly wasn't your best work."
She flipped through the paper, looking at all the red marks. "No, I suppose it wasn't."
"You've been distracted this week, Miss McBride. Is everything all right?"
She flushed until her cheeks were almost as red as her hair. "Yes, Dr. Miller."
He touched her arm, which caused her to flinch and back away. "You know you can come and talk to me anytime, right?" She nodded and glanced at the door. "I'll allow you to redo this paper for a better grade. Incorporate my notes and turn it in by next Friday."
She smiled nervously and thanked him while backing towards the door.
Katie drove home, feeling creeped out. Another person who rubbed her the wrong way. And, still feeling the sensation of Dr. Miller's hand on her arms, she had to admit that in this case it was quite literal.
And things were not all right, but she couldn't admit that to him. She was worried about the guy she had picked up. Daddy said that he had a rough couple nights, but now he was awake and alert. But not saying much, so no one really knew his condition. No one knew his name. And, due to Daddy's fears and suspicions, he had isolated the patient, allowing only trusted nurses and a well-liked and respected neurologist to see him.
Katie was confident that she could sweet-talk Daddy into letting her visit as well.
Arriving at the hospital, she was greeted by the glare of Dr. Hawkins. Katie hurried past the woman and made her way up to the fourth floor where Daddy's patients usually ended up. She greeted Janice, who was organizing medications. "Hi, Pet," the nurse greeted her. "Are you here to see your patient?"
"I can see him?"
"Your dad knows you so well. He knew you'd be begging to see him, and after deliberating and talking to us about it, we all figured that you weren't in any danger from the patient. But, he's not very great company. He's pretty frustrated. It must be frustrating not being able to remember anything."
"Will he recover?"
"Oh, sure. Once the pressure and the swelling in his brain go down. But, right now, he's pushing a little too hard. Maybe he'll relax if he gets a visitor who's not poking and prodding at him." Janice picked up a little medicine cup with pills in it. "Follow me. I have to make a delivery to him."
Katie followed Janice into the room and stopped as his intense eyes stared at her the instant she stepped inside. Although he was lying in bed, knee propped up and arm immobilized from shoulder to fingers in a cast, she was pretty sure he could strike out at any moment. He reminded her of a panther. His eyes were a beautiful dark blue, and beneath his cuts and bruises, he was pretty cute.
"Hi," Janice said brightly as she walked to his bed, taking off a blood pressure off the wall and put it on his free arm. "This is Katie. She tends to like to bring home injured animals and injured men." At that, his eyes slid over to the nurse. "Sorry. Bad joke. Anyway, you won't have to worry about your side of the conversation. Katie is very capable of holding her own."
He turned back to the girl, and she blushed. Janice took the cuff off his free arm and continued. Dr. McBride says on Monday you'll start working on that knee. It's dislocated, but we'll have you up and going in no time."
His intense gaze went to his knee. "Yes."
Janice jiggled the pills in the cup, causing his eyes to return to her. When he saw the pills, he rolled his eyes and returned his stare to Katie. "Either take the pills now, or I'm coming back with a couple of nice, long needles." At that, the man reached for the pills and the water and swallowed them, studying both women. "I feel like I should ask you to recite 'she sells seashells down by the seashore," Janice said as she walked out of the room. "You can only stay for thirty minutes," she whispered to Katie.
Alone with a cute guy who reminded her of a panther and feeling the intensity of his stare, Katie briefly considered screaming and running out from the room. Instead, she swallowed hard and sat down in the chair. "I'm Katie."
"Yes, I remember. My memory is bad but not completely gone." His accent was softer than she was expecting.
He seemed to relax. When she chuckled nervously, he gave her a small smile. Katie grinned back, feeling relieved, and started chatting about anything that popped in her head. As he looked around the room, she talked about school, her major, classes she's taking, her best friend and roommate. He was mostly quiet, studying her and the room.
After running out of things popping in her head, she asked "Am I talking too much? Daddy says that it's kind of a bad habit."
"I don't mind. It helps me focus." He leaned back. "Your father is one of the doctors, right? Dr. McBride?"
"How'd you know that?"
"Is it a secret? You have the same color of hair, same color of eyes, same smile. You must have some pull to be sitting in here, more pull than being just someone who found me."
Katie felt uncomfortable again. The man was observant. Almost too observant. She had a distinct feeling that now he knew more about her than he knew about himself. Mostly due to this nervous habit of mindlessly talking, but she figured that he was also observing and making deductions about her.
Janice interrupted with a tray of food. "I'm not sure what's the worst about being in a hospital—the doctors, the needles, or the food," he joked, making Katie feel better.
"Can I come and talk to you again?" Katie blurted out, feeling herself turn red again.
"Yes. I don't mind."
Napoleon told himself that inexperience didn't mean incompetence. He had told himself that dozens of times after meeting the two young agents who reported their findings to Mr. Waverly. These two were fresh from survival school, and this had to be their first assignment.
Inexperience doesn't mean incompetence. After all, Napoleon hadn't been too impressed with Illya when he first met him. There wasn't anything wrong with Illya; Napoleon just preferred to work alone. He told himself that it was even in his name…
Napoleon made himself focus on the present task at hand. He focused on the two agents and wondered if either he or Illya had ever been as young as these two men were. These two agents, Turner and Bryant, were eager to please. But, Napoleon could tell they resented someone second-guessing their findings, even if that someone were the CEA of all Section Two agents in the Western Section.
Their voices and attitudes, just respectful and willing to please yesterday, had now started take on frustrated and sarcastic tones.
He flipped through the notes and pictures found in the wrecked car. Illya had taken the precaution, even with a "simple" assignment, to do everything to safe-guard his observations, and since the papers were in a waterproof case, they remained legible even being submerged for days in a river.
"We were going to type up your partner's notes and send them to Mr. Waverly," Mr. Bryant said. "But I really don't think this is anything we can't handle from this office."
"Of course." Napoleon read Illya's notes. He had been interested in a few professors who worked at this college that was supposedly recruiting for Thrush. Illya had suspected them being mid-level members, answering to a higher-ranking member. He was particularly interested in a law professor, a Dr. George Miller. There were pictures of the man, including some of him in a bar with female students. Another few pictures showed Miller talking to the biggest man Napoleon had ever seen. Illya hadn't identified him, but indicated that he didn't think the huge man was Thrush. Illya had also come up with pictures of students who may be targeted as possible Thrush recruits, most were identified, although some were not. Although he obviously wasn't able to complete his assignment, Illya had certainly done his homework.
"Mr. Solo, I don't feel that looking through Mr. Kuryakin's notes will find him," Turner interrupted Napoleon's studying. "The evidence indicates that he was thrown from the car upon impact with the guard rail…"
"The evidence doesn't indicate that at all," Napoleon interrupted, studying a picture of Miller. "There's no sign he was in the car at all when it when through the guard rail. Most of that damage to the car was done by some sort of blunt instrument. Not a guard rail. Not a tree. Not the river bed…"
Turner continued, as though he didn't hear Napoleon. "Your partner either died from injuries or drowned…"
"Find me his body…"
"Or his body was eaten or mauled by a wild animal, like a bear or something…"
"Find me the bear that ate him." Napoleon gathered up the notes. "I'm serious. You apparently have a man-eating bear running around loose. He'd be a danger to people in towns around here. Happy hunting. I'm going to finish this and see where that takes me."
It was a quiet, small college town. Napoleon figured the town pretty much folded up in the summer when students went home. Thrush must be desperate to recruit at a private college such as this.
He looked at the students studying or talking on the quad. On the other hand, maybe fresh young minds would be quite a boon for Thrush.
It didn't take long for Napoleon to locate Dr. George Miller. He saw him walking, arm around a young woman who was obviously a student by the books she was carrying. He whispered something in her ear, causing her to giggle. They walked to his car, Napoleon following discreetly behind them. Miller gave the girl something and whispered in her ear again. She giggled again, and he got in his car and drove off.
Napoleon started moving to his car, but the girl blocked his way. She smiled. "Sir, I'm doing a research project for my professor. Can you help me?"
"I'm sorry." Napoleon started past her, but she held up a picture which stopped him in his tracks.
"Have you seen this man?" she asked.
She was holding up a picture of Illya. He grabbed the picture as the girl continued. "Look, it's for some extra credit. Apparently, this guy is missing, right? Dr. Miller is trying to find him. He's such a good man! So, have you seen this guy?"
Before he could answer, the girl spotted a friend and ran after him, probably only thinking that this was the best extra credit assignment this professor could give her.
He could remember things in his dreams. Images that haunted him because they were just out of his grasp whenever he woke up. Names, places, faces were familiar to him at night dissolved during the day, weirdly whenever doctors and nurses asked him about his memories.
Besides, his dreams made more sense than what he experienced during his walking hours. Even dreams of shooting at people, being shot at, death traps, images of drawings of birds—those seemed normal to him. And anchoring all of those images was the same face.
These had to be memories. He knew everyone and everything in them, when he was asleep.
But, he couldn't talk about them to anyone. Even though the neurologist asked him about his dreams, he would always give vague answers about them. Although the dreams weren't exactly pleasant, they didn't frustrate him as much as the questions about them, about his past, about his work, about his friends and family, co-workers, himself. The vagueness about everything came so easily to him.
The physical therapy on his dislocated knee was easy. He just wished that he could get his arm out of the cast and start therapy on it. The cast was itching and driving him crazy. He didn't need or take any painkillers; everyone said that his pain threshold was remarkably high. Pain allowed him to focus. He knew how to handle pain. The physical pain didn't hurt as much as the holes in his memory.
But, he had to admit to himself that, like his knee, his ribs and head, the memories seemed to be getting better. Images lasted longer. He could focus on them for longer periods of time.
And it didn't take long before the therapy on his knee allowed him much more freedom of movement. He could hobble around on a crutch within two days of starting therapy. Something about knees… someone else hurt his knee recently.
He'd explored every inch of the floor he was on except for other patients' rooms. But, he'd looked in when their doors were open, studying all the faces.
He started wanting to get out of the hospital, but there was nowhere to go right now. And he didn't have clothes to go anywhere. So, he asked Janice for clothes.
Waiting was the hardest thing. Especially when he didn't know what he was waiting for.
Katie was about ready to knock on his door when it opened unexpectedly.
"Hi, Katie. Come in." He limped back into the room.
She wasn't expecting him to be quite so mobile with just a week's worth of therapy. "How'd you know it was me?"
"I heard your footsteps."
She nodded and held up a bag. "I heard you wanted some clothes other than pajamas."
He grinned, and Katie felt a warm glow through her body. "Thank you," he said, grabbing the bag.
"I hope they fit. They're my brother's. I think you and he are about the same size."
"Your brother doesn't need them?"
"He's on deployment. Plus, I'm sure he won't mind." She nodded toward the door. "I'll wait in the hall."
She took the time to look over her assignment for Dr. Miller's class. She didn't want to do this paper twice, like she had to do the last one. She had to get focused.
She heard him call her, and she re-entered his room. He was sitting in the chair, sliding the shoes on. He looked so young in a T-shirt and jeans. Strangely younger than when he was in the hospital's pajamas.
"Looks like a perfect fit!" she smiled.
"Just about."
"Want to go for a short walk, just around the grounds, for a change of scenery? It's beautiful outside."
He looked up. "I think your father might mind."
She hesitated. This was something she kept forgetting. She didn't know anything about him, other than the fact that she felt safe around him. "It's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission," she said brightly.
"Not always." However, he picked up his crutch and limped after her.
"What'd you get on that paper you had to redo?" He asked.
"I haven't got it back yet. It doesn't matter, though. I have to do another paper for Dr. Miller. As if I don't have any other classes."
He shifted his weight on the crutch uncomfortably at her professor's name. "You don't like him?"
Katie considered the question. "He's a terrific professor. I just don't feel comfortable around him."
"I don't blame you," he muttered. At her quizzical look, he amended, "From what you've said about him, I don't blame him." He stopped by a bench. "Mind if we sit for a few minutes?"
"Your knee must be hurting, huh? No, not at all." Katie sat beside him. As they sat in silence, she looked around and spotted Dr. Hawkins get out of her white Cadillac and walk toward them. "Oh, no," she whispered.
He looked at her, confused, then up at the woman, who stopped walking, staring at him in shock. "Hey, a new face!" he said.
Dr. Hawkins' expression turned from shock to pure hatred, causing his grin to fade. She stormed away.
"Katie, who was that?"
"Dr. Amelia Hawkins, the new surgeon. That was weird. Do you know her?"
"I've never seen her face before." He was sure of that. "She seemed to know me, though."
"That glare she gave you… if looks could kill, you'd be dead many times over."
"Don't give them ideas," he muttered under his breath.
"What?"
"Nothing." He got to his feet. "Are you ready to go back?"
He didn't swallow his medications that night. Instead, they were flushed down the toilet. He knew he wasn't going to sleep tonight, with or without the pills, but it would be better if he remained alert.
He gathered anything he could find that could be used for defense. That look the doctor had given him shocked him more than he cared to admit, even to himself.
I need out of here, he thought, wondering who he could contact. If he just had his communicator…
Only nurses came in that night. He only lightly dozed on occasion.
Napoleon took an instant dislike to Dr. George Miller, even more than the usual Thrush member. He hadn't even spoken to the man, but he found him the most repulsive person he'd ever known.
Watching Miller at the bar, Napoleon wondered if there could be anyone else as sleazy as this professor. Not only was there the business of Miller trying to locate Illya using students to do his dirty work for him, but there was how Miller treated female students.
Napoleon knew he had a reputation, one that he liked to cultivate. But he genuinely liked women. He respected them. He never wanted them to regret having spent time with him. Miller obviously didn't like or respect the female students. They were just things he could control by bribing them with grades.
It wasn't just the female students, though. The mountain of a man would usually be around Miller. Miller would berate the man, hit him with a book, and generally abuse him. The man sat outside the bar, happily playing with dog.
Napoleon found that the bar pretty much only served beer, so he ordered one, and nursed it as he watched Miller work the room. Although he didn't like the man, students seemed to love him. He also watched the large man playing with the dog through the window.
"Want a dog?" the bartender asked.
"No, not really," Napoleon replied.
"Neither do I, but I've got one. Just showed up one day. I feed him and water him, because someone has to. However, he seems to attract students. And Lenny out there. Students come in and drink, and Lenny plays with the dog."
"Lenny?"
"Yeah, he pals around Dr. Miller. I don't know why. Miller is a creep. But, if Lenny had dynamite for brains, he wouldn't even be able to blow his nose. He only has his body, no brains. Miller leads him around by a leash, like those dogs Lenny loves. Lenny is mostly a good guy. But, I wouldn't want to get him mad. I once saw him flip over a car with his bare hands."
Napoleon watched Lenny play with the dog. He believed that Lenny could flip over a car. He wouldn't want to run into Lenny in a dark alley without a dog.
The bartender stopped talking as Miller staggered up to the bar. "Charlie, give me my keys." He nudged Napoleon and indicated the blonde student waving at him. "Cute, huh? She can't string two thoughts together in a paper, but she's about ready to get at least a B from me, huh? We're going to get away this weekend, go out to my cabin…"
"I'll give you your house keys, George, but I'm not giving you your car keys. I don't care what you do, but you're not going to endanger a student."
Miller scowled at the bartender, but took his house keys and walked off with the girl.
"Where's his cabin?"
The bartender shrugged. "I don't know. Apparently, it has no electricity, no telephones. It's his getaway."
He walked away to take a guy's order. Napoleon made a mental note to find his cabin. He had a hunch he could get some leads on Illya there.
The land office was closed Monday for a holiday. Napoleon took the time to chat with students about Dr. George Miller. Pictures of Illya were also flying around the place.
Most students had never heard of the professor. However, a few women who weren't in his classes told him that the good professor approached them with invitations to join him in some sort of organization. Most said that he creeped them out so much that they refused his invite.
Even the students who knew Miller or had been with Miller could tell him how to get to the cabin.
As he walked to his car, he spotted two women talking. Both were holding pictures of Illya. The redheaded girl seemed upset by them. He walked toward them.
"Apparently, this is just an investigation game that Dr. Miller has concocted," said the brunette. "Kate, is this the guy you were talking to me about? Is this the guy you picked up?"
The girl named Kate angrily crumbled up the flier and glared up at Napoleon. "What do you want?"
He introduced himself, and handed her a card. The fire leaping from her eyes abated somewhat. "Napoleon? And you're from the U.N.C.L… Uncle." she took a deep breath and moved toward her friend.
"Do you know this man?" he indicated the crumbled up flier.
"What's it to you?"
"He's my partner. Illya. I need to find him. Where is he?"
The fire came back in her eyes. "You leave him alone!" She threw the ball of paper at him. "You hear me? Leave him alone!"
"Kate?" the brunette said, stepping toward her.
"Kate? Listen, I don't want to hurt him. But, these fliers are putting him in danger. I need to find him." He stepped back as she slapped him and ran off.
"She's a little bit protective of him," the brunette said. "She kind of has a crush on him. She's not thinking very logically right now."
He thanked her and quickly got into his car. He was able to just locate the girl's car as it sped out of the parking lot.
He followed the car, knowing that she was going to lead him right to Illya.
Katie ran into the hospital, nearly knocking over a cart of food trays. She impatiently kept pushing the elevator call button, keeping her eyes fixed on the arrow indicating the floor, reminding herself to breathe. A tiny voice in her mind asked her what she was expecting? Why is she so angry?
She couldn't explain why. She just was.
Finally, she reached the fourth floor and made his way to his room. Illya's room. At least she knew what to call him. Would he be grateful? Angry? What did he remember?
The door opened before she could knock on it, and Illya poked his head out, cautiously. She noticed that he looked tired. "Katie? What are you doing here?"
She couldn't answer. He held the door open wider. "What's wrong? Come in. Let's talk about it."
She followed him into the room, realizing why she was so upset. When she first told her best friend and roommate, Debbie, about him, Debbie had joked that she had a crush on him, which Katie had denied. But, Debbie had been absolutely correct. Katie realized watching Illya limp into the room that he was never hers and would never be hers.
"Hi, Illya," she said sadly.
His face never changed. He just stood and stared at her. Studying her, like he always had done. "How do you know my name?"
Her eyes stung. "How long have you remembered who you are?"
Illya shook his head. She could hear footsteps coming down the hall. He gently took her arm and stepped in front of her, pulling her behind him at the same time. The footsteps steps into the room, and Katie squeezed her eyes shut. But, she could sense his body relaxing.
Katie opened her eyes at the sound of a familiar voice. "Nice to see you, Tovarisch. You know, you don't exactly make it easy to find you."
"Sorry about that." Illya stepped aside. "Napoleon, this is Katie McBride. Katie? Meet Napoleon Solo."
"We've met!" Katie snarled, feeling a strange sense of betrayal. "Leave me alone! I don't want to see you again!" She yelled as she ran out of the room. As she ran down the hall to the elevator, she could hear Illya call after her. She didn't stop. She needed to stop daydreaming and make some real plans.
Dr. Amelia Hawkins slammed down the telephone. She'd been trying to call Miller since Friday night. Once again, she couldn't get him to pick up the phone.
She knew better than to confront Kuryakin by herself. He may be injured, but she knew that he would be as dangerous as an injured wild animal if cornered. Plus, her last two go-arounds with him and Solo made Thrush Central demote her to this demeaning recruiting assignment where she had to change her identity yet again. An assignment in which she had to be paired up with an incompetent horndog who was probably ignoring her phone calls because he was with a gullible co-ed.
She grabbed her keys and her purse. She would drive up to that shack, drag him by the ear with his "henchman" who would no doubt be on a choke chain. She would get them both to the hospital where they can fix what they screwed up.
As she reached the door, the intercom paged her. She sighed in frustration and considered just walking out of here. Maybe just leaving and never seeing anyone from Thrush again. Although she knew that would never be an option for her.
She was paged again with an emergency code. "I can't believe this," she growled, dropping her keys and purse and answering the call.
"So, how's your knee?" Illya asked as he limped around the room.
Napoleon flipped through Illya's chart. "Never been better."
"I'm pretty sure my chart is confidential."
"So, when did you get your memory back?"
Illya stopped his pacing. "I'm not entirely sure. They've been coming back for a while. There are still several holes. The last thing I remember clearly is having a blowout, followed by a rifle echo. I don't even know how long ago that was. I remember a little bit about walking in a rainstorm, but not much. I'm not sure how long ago that was either. The only thing I clearly remember from the blowout to waking up in here is pain. A lot of pain."
"So, your chart says that you can't even remember your name. When did you start remembering?"
"I think Friday night, maybe Saturday. Maybe earlier." He glanced toward the door again.
"Expecting that firecracker to come back?" Napoleon rubbed his cheek.
"Katie has a lot of growing up to do. But, I owe her a lot right now." Illya sat on the bed. "I need out of here."
Napoleon raised his eyebrows and held up Illya's chart. "Have you read this?"
"A doctor here is Thrush."
"Here in this hospital?"
"Yes. I feel like a sitting duck. She knows me."
"Do you remember her?"
"Never seen her before. But she had definitely seen me before."
Napoleon replaced Illya's chart. "Well, I'll get you released to my care until we can get back to New York." He pulled out his communicator and turned it on. "Open Channel D."
"I need a new communicator and a gun."
"I'll have the local office bring you new ones."
While Illya was signing discharge papers against medical advice, Napoleon took the opportunity to look around the office of Dr. Amelia Hawkins. He didn't think that she would have a Thrush plaque on her wall or a sign "Ask me about Thrush." But, an office would be a good start to getting some information about her.
She graduated with her MD from Columbia in 1960, or so the diploma said. He called that bit of information into U.N.C.L.E. headquarters and requested any data on the woman. He also requested that Turner and Bryant deliver a communicator and Special to his hotel room.
He was in and out of the office in under two minutes.
"Dr. Amelia Hawkins doesn't seem to exist until she applied for the position at the hospital." Napoleon announced, watching Illya stretch out his knee on his hotel bed. "There's no one who graduated from Columbia in 1960 with that name."
"That figures. So, she has falsified documents and just gets a surgeon position at a hospital? How does that happen?"
"Apparently, she applied. It's relatively close to the college that she's recruiting at. And before you ask, her predecessor retired and went to live closer to his children in St. Louis and Chicago. He's not Thrush, and neither are his children."
Illya didn't answer.
Napoleon continued. "Turner is on his way. Do you remember meeting either he or his partner?"
"No."
"You may not have. Why don't you get some rest? We won't be leaving until tomorrow morning."
"You know what I'd like to do?" Not waiting for Napoleon's reply, Illya continued, "I'd like to find who did this to me."
"The car accident may have done some of that to you. But, for the rest of your injuries, I don't think confronting him would be a good idea. Plus, I don't think that guy is who we should go after. And, neither did you, according to your notes. Now, Miller, on the other hand…"
He was interrupted by a knock on the door. He looked out the peephole and unlocked the door. "Did you find that bear?" He asked.
"What?" Turner stepped inside the room, stopping in his tracks at the sight of Illya. "Mr. Kuryakin…" he kept looking from Napoleon to Illya.
"You have something for me?" Illya asked.
"Oh, yes. Sorry." Turner reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the communicator and Special and handed both to Illya.
"We need the location of a cabin owned by Dr. George Miller. Will you and Bryant look into it?" Napoleon asked.
"Yes sir."
After he left, Illya loaded a clip into his gun. "Let's see what we can find out."
Katie sped back to the campus, blindly. She wasn't even sure how she got there. She didn't remember anything about her drive.
She wasn't sure what she was doing. She sat in her car for several minutes, shaking. Finally, she got out and went for a walk, no destination in mind.
She had to get her act together. She had to focus. She had to put these childish feelings behind her. After all, she knew that Illya had never promised anything. He never led her on, and she knew that he would probably get his memories back eventually. He never offered any encouragement toward her crush. She wasn't even sure if he was aware of it.
She came to a stop. Of course he had been aware. He studied her. He knew her.
She walked back to campus. A fellow student thrust a flier with Illya's picture on it at her. She took it.
She knew what she had to do.
Katie nearly ran into the secretary of the law department as she raced into the offices as the older woman was leaving for the evening. Slowing down, Katie walked down the hall, this time with a destination in mind.
She located the office on the second floor. The door was open, so she went inside the office without knocking.
Dr. George Miller looked up. "Miss McBride. We missed you in class today. Did you come for your paper?"
Katie put the flier on Dr. Miller's desk. "I'm here to get some extra credit. You're looking for him. I know where he's at."
He picked up the flier and grinned up at her. The smile chilled her to the bone. "Katelyn, I knew that you were something special. You just paid off my confidence in you."
His smile reminded her of a spider. And she was a fly in his web. What have I done?
Dr. Miller stood up. She smiled weakly. "I was just joking, Dr. Miller. I don't really know where he is. I was just seeing if I could get some extra credit." She backed to the door.
"Now, Katelyn, I'm smarter than that. Of course you know where he's at. Now, you're going to come with me. We're going to discuss your future. And your friend's future. Yours looks more promising."
She ran out the door, trying to get help. "What have I done? What have I done? What have I done?" she kept whispering to herself.
"Katelyn! Don't let me down now! Be smart about this. He is not coming to rescue you. No one is." Dr. Miller called after her, close behind her.
She got out of the building and run to her car. Suddenly, the biggest man she had ever seen stepped toward her. She screamed and stumbled back from him, right into Dr. Miller.
He held her arm tightly and took off his tie. "I'm very sorry to do this, Katelyn. But, you've left me no choice." He tied her hands behind her and opened the back door of her car. "Just remember you brought this on yourself." He shoved her inside and slammed the door.
The huge man got into her car and sadly looked at her, not saying anything. Miller got in her driver's seat and pulled out.
"What are you doing?" Illya asked as they pulled up to a bar and Napoleon got out of the car.
"Getting a little insurance." He pointed to a dog, sitting in front of the bar.
"What? The dog?"
"That guy, Lenny, loves dogs. I'm betting that we can distract him at least if we do find them."
Napoleon untied the dog and opened his backseat door, where the dog hopped inside.
"Are you saying that if I had a dog with me, I could have probably avoided all of this?"
Napoleon got back into the car. "Probably." Illya muttered in Russian. "Wow. What does your mother say about those words?"
Illya glared at him.
Napoleon looked away, distracted by the car approaching by the bar. "Is that Katie's car?" he asked.
"Is it? I don't think I ever saw her car."
They waited for the car to speed past. Miller was driving the car with Lenny sitting beside him. "What's he doing driving her car?" Napoleon asked.
"And where's Katie?"
Napoleon backed the car out. "He's probably heading out to his cabin."
"Good thing we brought a dog with us. I'm glad I have a gun, though."
Miller slammed his fist on the steering wheel when he arrived at his cabin. A white Cadillac sat in front of it. "Great. The bitch is here."
He got out of the car and opened the backseat and narrowly avoided a kick from the girl. He dragged her out of the car, feeling like he was wrestling a greased pig like one of the carnivals his parents took him to when he was a kid. She kept squirming, kicking and screaming.
"Lenny, you really are a brainless idiot, aren't you? Can't you see I'm having troubles here? Get her inside." Miller shoved her toward Lenny. "I swear, if your brains were dynamite, you wouldn't have enough to blow your nose."
Lenny picked up the girl and followed Miller inside the cabin. He stopped just inside the door.
Miller glared at the woman. "Dr. Hawkins, how are you this fine day?" He spat out.
She turned and glared at him in return. "I've been trying to get a hold of you. What's she doing here? Obviously, not one of your conquests."
"Help me, Dr. Hawkins!" Katie screamed, kicking at Lenny, who kept holding her.
"She knows where Kuryakin is," George beamed at the doctor.
"If you would pick up your telephone every once in a while, you'd find out that I do too."
George looked over at Lenny and the girl. "Oh, put her down, you idiot."
Lenny gently placed the girl on the floor. She started hyperventilating.
"Why do you call him an idiot?" Hawkins asked. "Because, frankly, I think he's a mental giant compared to you." She turned to the girl. "Stop breathing like that, Miss McBride."
Katie kept gasping for air.
"Stop breathing like that!"
Katie's eyes rolled back in her head as she passed out.
"Put her in the bedroom and then wait for me outside, Lenny." Miller said.
Lenny nodded and gently picked up the unconscious girl. After laying her on the bed, he walked outside and sat on the porch steps.
"Do you remember him?" Napoleon asked as they pulled up to the cabin, watching Lenny take a seat on the steps.
Illya shrugged. "Maybe a little. If the dog doesn't work…"
"It will."
Napoleon pulled out his communicator, requesting for backup. Even Turner and Bryant would be a welcome sight.
Illya crept out of the car and opened the backseat door. The dog jumped out and ran up to Lenny.
Lenny's face lit up, and he immediately started crawling around on the ground, playing with the dog.
"Don't you get tired of being right all the time, Napoleon?"
"Never."
Figuring the element of surprise would be better than a direct attack, they made their way to the back. The back door was unlocked and both snuck inside.
Illya took a quick look into the small bedroom. Seeing no one but Katie in there, he softly called Napoleon over and crept into the room, placing his gun on the floor beside him. "Katie?" He gently untied her hands and shook her. "Hey, Katie? Are you all right?"
Napoleon spotted some files in a box and started looking through them as the girl began to stir. "Illya? Miller has names of projects being developed by Thrush. Which may be the reason for their recruiting efforts."
Illya nodded, but kept his attention on Katie as her eyes opened. "Are you all right?" he softly asked as her eyes focused slowly on him.
"Illya?" she slurred.
"Hi," he smiled, and she smiled back. "Can you sit up?"
"I think so."
He offered her support of his arm as she struggled to sit up. Napoleon sat the box down as he came over and checked to see if she were injured. "She's all right."
"Katie, can you go with Napoleon?" Hearing voices in the front, Illya picked up his gun. "I'm going to have a little chat with Dr. Miller."
Napoleon helped the girl stand up and picked up the box of files. "I'll be right back in."
"No. Stay with her."
Dr. Hawkins looked outside. "Do you hear a dog?"
Miller rolled his eyes. "And you call me crazy and brain-dead. You just heard a wolf. They're all over out there."
"You are both crazy and brain-dead, and I heard a dog." She thought she could count three cars outside the cabin. The third car was hidden in shadows, but she could just make out its outline. "Are you expecting one of your bimbos?"
"No."
She turned angrily. "Do you have anything here that you wouldn't want to fall into U.N.C.L.E.'s hands?"
"Not really. Some files of projects that are being coordinated in the next couple months."
"You really are an idiot, aren't you?"
Miller walked over to the fireplace. "I'm really tired of the names you call me."
"And I'm tired of you and your pompous, arrogant ass. I'm not going to get caught by U.N.C.L.E., especially through your brainlessness."
Miller picked up a gun. "You want to quit, boss? You do that, I'll tell Thrush Central. You think this was a demotion from what you're used to?"
"Tell them whatever you want." With that, she walked out of the door.
Napoleon had just laid Katie in the backseat of the car when the cabin door burst open. A woman hurried outside, pulling on her face. She dropped something and got into her white Cadillac. After starting it and pulling out, she dropped something else. "Stay here, Katie," he whispered, pulling out his gun.
As the car sped away, Napoleon fired at it. But, due to the dark and the speed of the car, he missed.
He walked over to what she dropped. It was a mask and a wig.
Just then, shots rang out inside the cabin.
Miller looked up at the sound of gunshots outside only to lock eyes on Illya Kuryakin, staring coldly at him, gun in hand. "We meet again."
"Apparently."
Miller put his gun down. "Are you here to kill me? That seems awfully petty to me for a few broken bones. I know the law. This isn't justified, and it's not self-defense. You missed that chance."
Kuryakin didn't answer.
"Say something!"
At that, Lenny appeared in the doorway. Miller used the moment Illya glanced over at the huge man to grab his gun. However, before he could get a shot off, a bullet slammed into his shoulder. As he fell, another one hit his chest.
He glared up at Lenny. Breathing hard through the pain, he yelled, "You brainless oaf! Kill him!"
Lenny turned to Illya and stalked toward him. Illya fired a shot into his leg. Lenny growled at Illya, but kept limping towards him. Next shot was in his chest. That only seemed to make the huge man stumble backwards briefly, but he kept coming.
Napoleon ran inside to see Lenny stalking toward Illya, he was backing up towards the back door. Miller was lying on the ground, badly bleeding.
The dog slid past Napoleon, making his shot go wild. The dog ran over to Miller as he struggled to sit up and licked his face.
"Get away from me, you damn dog!" Miller kicked the dog, knocking it off its feet. The dog whimpered in pain.
Lenny stopped his slow, menacing walk toward Illya and turned to Miller. He let out an agonizing howl and turned toward Miller. Miller tried to get Lenny to direct his attention back to either U.N.C.L.E. agent, but Lenny kept giving an agonizing howl to match the dog's.
Using the distraction Lenny provided, Napoleon slipped to Illya. "Are you all right?"
"Much better than Miller is doing." Illya nodded toward the scene in front of him. Napoleon turned to see Lenny pick up a baseball bat and start swinging it at Miller, who was screaming in terror from the floor. "You know what? No one deserves to die like that." Illya shot again at Miller, this time killing him. Napoleon took down a kerosene lantern off the wall, throwing it on the floor by the window. Flames instantly ignited the curtains and started spreading around the room.
The dog howled in panic and ran off, followed by Lenny.
Both Napoleon and Illya slipped out the back.
Illya and Napoleon watched the activity around the fire from a vantage point about a quarter mile away, watching through binoculars. Turner and Bryant brought the local authorities and paramedics. Napoleon had to admit that the two junior agents were remarkably adept at coordinating the activities.
Maybe they might be good agents yet.
Napoleon handed Illya the mask and wig. "Dr. Egret?" Illya asked.
"Yes."
"No wonder I didn't know her face."
"And now she's gone again."
"Who is she?" Katie asked from her car, watching the activity below with them.
Illya lifted the mask and wig. "No one really knows."
"Oh." She looked down at the ground then back up at the men. "Is it over?" she asked tearfully?
"For you, yes." Illya handed the car keys back to her. "Will you be able to get home all right?"
"Are you going back to school or to your parents?" Napoleon asked.
"My parents'. Right now, I don't know if I ever want to see that school again. I'll explain something to them. Tell them I need a break."
The car that the junior agents drove pulled up beside them. "Too bad the fire broke out," Bryant said. "Poor Dr. Miller, overcome by smoke inhalation and passed out, burning to death."
"Too bad indeed," Napoleon agreed.
"Also, Lenny will be all right. Miller shot him twice, though. Poor guy."
"You've got everything wrapped up?" Illya asked.
"Yep. The local authorities were just eating it up. Some students may have loved Miller, but no one else seemed to. I don't think he'll be missed too much."
"By the way," Turner grinned up at Napoleon. "I think you owe us some credit. That guy was as large as a bear. So, it could be argued that Mr. Kuryakin was at least mauled by something the size of a bear."
Napoleon scowled as the junior agents drove away.
"I kind of like those two," Illya said.
Napoleon shook his head. They got into their car and followed Katie's car to her parents before going back to the hotel.
Two weeks later, Napoleon entered Waverly's office to find Illya already in there. Illya's cast had been replaced with a sling.
"Gentleman," Waverly greeted them. "We have some news regarding the College Affair. First, the college has issued a refund of tuition for every student in that class, as the class has been cancelled. Dr. Miller didn't keep his grade books accurate."
"Naturally," Napoleon said.
Waverly turned the table so the files were in front of the young men. "Mr. Turner and Mr. Bryant have finished the investigation of the Thrush satrap. Dr. Egret, alias Dr. Hawkins, and Dr. Miller were the ranking members. Everyone else was low-level Thrush members or brand new recruits. It has now been disbanded."
"There has been no sign of Dr. Egret?" Illya asked.
"None."
"Looks like Lenny has a new job," Napoleon said, reading from the file. "The bartender hired him, gave him a room above the bar. Lenny cleans the bar and takes care of the dog."
Illya took off his glasses. "Two days ago, I received a letter from Miss McBride. She is transferring to the University of Colorado at Boulder to study pre-law. She will begin next term." He took the letter from his jacket pocket and placed it in the file.
Waverly picked up his pipe and stood. "Gentlemen, that will be all. Mr. Kuryakin, you have been ordered to Medical for more tests before you will be cleared. I would suggest you make your way there now."
"Yes, sir." Illya followed Napoleon out of the office. "Tests, tests, and more tests."
"How are you doing?"
"I feel fine. I'm glad I'm out of the cast, but I'm ready to get out of the sling."
"How's your memory? Still has holes?"
Illya considered that question. "None that I care to talk about."
END
A/N: OK, this sucked. But, the bunny has now been killed. So, I'm happy.
I got the title "Missing, Presumed Dead" from the second episode of the BBC series "Colditz," which introduced David McCallum's character, Flt. Lt. Simon Carter. ("Colditz" isn't available on DVD in the United States. You can watch it online. I recommend it. It's really good.)