Napoleon was lying on a cot in a cell somewhere in Idaho contemplating his hands. There were many other things he would have preferred to have been doing, but since his wrists were chained together and then, in turn, chained to the cot, his choices were somewhat limited. His captors were not interested in questioning him; apparently, THRUSH was sending a couple of their top operatives to pick him up and personally deliver him to the Central Committee. He had been told that the Chairman himself had demanded that he not be damaged before he appeared before the committee to be interrogated.

I really don't understand how THRUSH continues to be a threat to civilization when it continues to employ the dregs of the earth to do its grunt work! Any real agent worth his salt would have stripped me down to check for tracking devices not only in my clothing, but under my skin as well. Oh, I'm sure they'll swear they searched me carefully and completely, but all they really did was pat me down thoroughly and run their fingers through my hair. So my little homing signal is still safely tucked away in the heel of my shoe bringing my partner closer and closer.

Illya. I never wanted a partner. Not at all. But when the Old Man paired us three years ago, even I couldn't deny the chemistry between us. I'm a force all by myself, and so is he, but when we began to work together, it was like we were two sides of the same coin.

I was so pissed to find out Waverly considers him less valuable to UNCLE than I am!* He's the reason my hands still look this good. A moment of guilt passed through him as he inspected his finely manicured, remarkably youthful and scar – free hands and thought about the Russian's large, callused hands that bore scars from knives, scrapes and rope burns, a good number of them received in defense of Napoleon. Five years an agent and my dates still comment on how soft my hands are against their skin.

I can't even thank him. For what, doing his job? He would think I had lost my mind. The funny thing is, it's because I wouldn't leave him behind when he was captured that he works triply hard to keep me safe.**

Somewhere in the near distance he thought he heard an explosion followed by small caliber gunfire. "Well, it would appear my ride is here," he muttered to himself as he mentally prepared himself for a fight.

The gunfire was getting closer and he heard his partner yell, "Napoleon! Take cover!"

Immediately, he hurled himself to the left and managed to flip the metal cot onto its side to shield himself just as a concussion grenade exploded almost right outside the cell door. A few more shots rang out followed by deafening silence. He raised his head high enough to see over the cot just as the door was kicked in to reveal his partner standing there dressed in all black, yellow hair peeking out from under a woolen skullcap and black grease paint striped across his face. "I take it it's dark outside. It wasn't when I got here. What took you so long? It's not like you had to look hard to find me," he said reproachfully.

Illya started to pull the cot upright, saw Napoleon was chained to it and set it back on its side. He pulled a lock pick from his belt and expertly opened the padlock holding the chains that held his partner. As he held out his arm and gently pulled Napoleon to his feet he replied, "I came with a Strike Team. We and a couple of birds showed up at this compound at the same time, so we had a bit of a gun battle before we could enter the building. Are you hurt?"

"No, the THRUSH you encountered outside were probably the ones coming to take me to the Central Committee. They would have found my homing device." Napoleon brushed himself off and shot his cuffs to try to make himself presentable.

"No doubt." Illya realized the CEA was looking at him and smiling. "What?"

"I was thinking that when we get back to New York, I'm going to treat you to dinner at Peter Luger's in Brooklyn. We're going to eat the best steaks money can buy, my friend."

"Then we better hurry to the extraction point. A chopper will meet us there."

As they exited the room and joined the other agents, Napoleon thought, I think I'll treat him to a manicure, too. Then, he'll know I've lost my mind, but who cares?

*ref. "Like a Phoenix from Ashes"

**ref. "A Promise and a Gift"