Authors note: Refernce to charaters from "The Slip of A Lip Affair."
Chapter 1
"New Isn't Always Improved."
36 hours. It had been nearly 36 long exhausting hours since they started their assault. Tired, cold and now wet from being out in the drenching rain. But the micro-dots had been retrieved and were safe for the moment. And all it cost was a few hours of torture. He felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck at that thought. A loud ping and small pieces of mortar and brick flew past his head, reminding him of the job at hand.
Bullets were whizzing thru the air from all directions. The moans of hit targets drifted down the dark alleyway. In a half hour or so it would be light once more and the birds would no doubt try to take wing. Their temporary shelter was gradually being worn down, splinter by splinter and to surrender was out of the question, although not out of their thoughts.
With the satrap destroyed through the cunning explosives wiring by a Russian and the perfectly executed detonation by the American, the building had sent the "flock" in several different directions. Ignoring the flight of the lackeys, Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin concentrated on following the four who were in charge of the operation.
Now cornered in a blind alley, the U.N.C.L.E. agents where holding their enemy at bay awaiting backup.
"I hope they get here soon," Kuryakin shouted to his partner over their gunfire.
"Waverly said five minutes tops…." He lowered his weapon and glanced at his watch, "That was ten minutes ago….."
A thunderous roaring sound came from the back end of the alleyway. Solo and Kuryakin pressed themselves tight against their own protective wall as a rocket flew past them. They both cringed as it struck the car across the street blowing it into a million tiny pieces.
"Dam it!" Napoleon shouted, "I only had six more payments on that…."
"Don't worry about the car Napoleon," Kuryakin said, "Worry about the fact that they have a rocket launcher. I didn't see them carry that out!"
"You're right, Illya…..Not exactly a concealed weapon!"
Illya chuckled to himself and fired off a few more rounds. He looked across the alley to see his partner retrieve another weapon from inside his jacket.
Napoleon quickly began to assemble the new Carbine. It was much sleeker then the old one, lighter and the elongated barrel would allow for more distance. He attached the scope and flipped a small switch on the side which changed it to a night vision viewer. He grabbed the extra ammunition clip from his pocket and loaded the weapon.
They had asked Kuryakin to field test the new gun, but he preferred the original. It was heavier and felt better in his hand. A gun he knew would never let him down. He fired off a few more shots as Solo steadied the new gun's shoulder brace.
The wail of several car engines filled the air. Backup had finally arrived. Illya looked back and motioned for the newly arrived agents to split up, some coming down the alley, the rest taking the corner and coming up from behind the short brick wall that blocked the THRUSHes way out.
Several shots pocked the brick walls and doorframes the two UNCLE agents were hiding in. Then another rocket sparks and fumes trailing behind like the fourth of July sped past them. This time it caught the corner or the building. Bricks, dust and mortar began to fall behind Solo and Kuryakin.
Solo edged out in the alley, hidden by a stack of large metal drums and a few wooden crates. He could see the THRUSH reloading the rocket launcher in the night scope.
"Bye bye birdies," he said low to himself.
He pulled the trigger and felt the enormous kick of the powerful new weapon. The rush was tremendous. Solo pulled back again on the trigger and the new Carbine fired once more. Again and again. Illya heard him make what amounted to an almost squeal of delight as he fired again. The overgrown child playing with his new toy, Kuryakin thought with a smile.
Another rocket flew past bringing down more bricks a mortar, this time closer to the agents then was really comfortable. Illya choked on the dust, his foot slipped on the narrow door ledge and he found himself out of the safety of his doorway. A loud ping and Solo saw his partner quickly grabbed his forearm, the tan jacket sleeve turning a dark red. Illya bit down on his lip and forced himself back into the door frame.
"Are you alright?" Solo shouted.
"Just a scratch," Illya replied his voice filled with pain but still steady.
Solo stepped out once more into the shelter and fired off a few more rounds. He could see the other U.N.C.L.E. agents getting into position behind the THRUSHes. But he still needed to keep their attention firmly on himself and his partner.
The dust was still thick in the air. Illya coughed and fired his weapon again, but with great difficulty. He needed to change hands to fire but that would mean exposing himself in the alley again. He looked towards Napoleon.
"Switch?" Kuryakin shouted.
Napoleon nodded and crouched down. With three sharp nods of his head, the Russian jumped from his doorway firing, the American hit the ground and rolled across the alley. Now in their new positions they continued their barrage at the THRUSH agents.
Illya could hear the distinctive pop of the new Carbine. Then a hair-raising cry of agony. He saw the new U.N.C.L.E. weapon drop, or perhaps thrown would be more appropriate, into the alley, smoke coming from the barrel and clip. He looked towards his partner.
Napoleon Solo lay in a sprawl inside the doorway, his body twitching, hands and arms folded over his face as he literally screamed in pain. He rolled out of the doorframe into the alley leaving himself open to the THRUSH bullets.
Illya instinctively leaped from his shelter, using himself to shield Solo. His wounded arm was killing him, but the Russian held his firearm steady and fired his rounds.
The other UNCLE Agents dropped over the wall and took the remaining four THRUSHes completely by surprise. They were quickly disarmed and the clear given.
Solo was desperately trying to crawl out of the alley on his hands and knees. He moved a few feet then rolled over onto the concrete, struggling to right himself. Illya took off after him. He watched as Solo crawled over a pile of debris and slammed head first into the side of the wall. Napoleon cried out again.
"Napoleon….." he shouted, "Napoleon what happened?"
The sun was cresting and the alleyway was beginning to fill with light. The U.N.C.L.E. agents pressed their captives towards the open end of the alley. One stopped and retrieved the Carbine, only to drop it again from the intense heat of the gun. He grabbed his handkerchief and picked up the shoulder brace the only part of the gun that was safe to touch.
Kuryakin finally caught up with his partner. He fell to his knees and grabbed Solo by the shoulders. To his surprise Napoleon tried to pull away. The insistent Russian held on struggling with the agent.
He glanced down at the broken pieces of concrete Napoleon had been crawling over. A strange looked crossed his face as he reached on hand towards a large broken slab of cement.
Blood.
And even more frightening, a few small pieces of flesh.
"Napoleon it's me Illya," he said, just in case his partner was stunned and didn't realize who had hold of him.
Napoleon fell forward on his stomach, his arms wrapped tightly around his head. It was only then that Illya saw the burnt flesh of his partner's hand.
Agent Dowd walked up with the carbine in his hand. Illya saw the gun clearly.
The barrel extension was blown apart and the barrel itself bent backwards. The clip was melted, the scope shattered and missing its lenses.
Illya looked at the gun, then back at his partner. The agent swallowed the large knot that suddenly formed in his throat and tried to turn his partner over. At first Napoleon struggled against him. But the pain overwhelmed him and he passed out.
A few of the agents took the THRUSHes and loaded them in the cars. Two of them started back to help Kuryakin with his partner. They too had seen the warped carbine and didn't know what they would find when they went back. The two agents became visibly shaken by what they saw.
Illya Kuryakin, the tough as nails, hardnosed Russian was sitting in the middle of the ally. He was just sitting there slowly rocking back and forth.
In his arms, Napoleon Solo, limp, his face and head turned into Illya's chest away from the eyes of the others. His burnt hand turned open as his arm swayed with the rocking motion.
The men stepped up and looked at their fellow agents. Illya motioned for Dowd to take off his jacket at which the agent quickly responded. They watched Illya shield Solo from their view as he wrapped the garment loosely around his friends head.
Carefully the three men lifted their wounded comrade and carried him to the car.
Later that afternoon at UNCLE Headquarters…
Waverly walked into the security weapons area. The thick metal door slid shut and locked. He looked at the faces of the three men waiting his arrival. They were startled by the expression on the UNCLE Chief's face as he walked in. Waverly had all the appearances of being ill and having aged a few years.
Chief Barker walked over and helped the Section one head to his chair. He handed Waverly an Intel folder on the four THRUSH prisoners. Photos taken by Solo and Kuryakin showed the top five men connected with the satrap.
The fifth man was missing.
"Sir…..How is Mr. Solo?" he asked.
Waverly seemed almost to fumble for his words then cleared his throat.
"He is still in surgery….But Doctor Martz is not giving him very good odds. They have to go into the glabellas and remove a fragment of the gun that is lodged there…"
"Excuse me sir," one of the men asked puzzled, "The glabellas?"
Chief Barker looked at the man and reaching up, poked him in the forehead just above his nose between his eyebrows.
"Right there, Mr. Harper," the Security Chief said.
"Now gentlemen I want to know what happened…." Waverly almost shouted at them.
One of the Weapons Specialist, a Mr. Pettinati, walked over and uncovered what was left of the Carbine and the clip they had finally removed from it. He quickly slipped on a pair of protective gloves.
Alexander Waverly felt his stomach turn as he looked at the gun. He stood up and leaned his palms against the table. His eyes studied the weapon.
Pettinati picked up the metal clip that had once held the ammunition. He pulled it apart showing the inside of the casing.
"The problem was not with the gun," Pettinati said, "But with this…The clip tried to release two shots at the same time. They stuck each other in the barrel causing it to explode."
"I want whomever handled this clip identified…Is that understood gentlemen?" Waverly said.
The other three men looked at one another and then at their boss.
"Mr. Waverly, sir," Pettinati said, "There is virtually no way to retrieve fingerprints from the clip. Anyone in the department had access to it. It is a standard clip used in all U.N.C.L.E. .38s. It was an accident sir. Nothing more."
Alexander Waverly drew his bushy eyebrows down and looked at each of the others. They saw his nostrils flare slightly.
"My CEA is fighting for his life right now….Even if he lives he may have permanent damage that could cost him everything and U.N.C.L.E. its future Chief. I want this "accident" investigated completely, not one thing should be overlooked."
"Sir…I really…" Harper started to say.
Waverly stared at the younger weapons man.
"….Think we may be able to find something…."
"Chief Barker, can I see that photo again of the five THRUSH operatives?" Pettinati asked.
Barker handed the weapons man the photo once more. He and Harper looked at the faces closely.
"I thought I recognized him. One THRUSH, this one here, is a weapons man himself."
Barker looked at him and tried not to smile. The Security Chief opened his briefing folder and looked over the dossiers of his captives and the missing man.
"You're right Pettinati," Barker said surprised, "Randolph Sequa…THRUSH operations, Weapons coordinator, retrieval and procurement. He is one of the best at getting those "hard to find" items, like Dilithium Sulfide bombs, Plutonium, that sort of thing. How did you know that?"
"I recognized him now. A student of mine, six years ago in Ottawa," Harper said, "Working on his degree as a Chemistry Major."
"Looks like he made it," Harper said low.
Waverly looked at the young man.
"We know THRUSH had our men as temporary prisoners…Mr. Kuryakin confirmed that much. They would have taken their weapons from them for that time. It would have given THRUSH time to look over the new Carbine and anything else they needed to do…"
"Mr. Kuryakin did say they hesitated in retrieving their weapons because they had been left un-secured in the main office….On top of the desk I believe he said, out in the open for them to…"
Pettinati looked at the opened clip. He adjusted his glasses and flipped a small magnifying glass down over one of the lenses.
"What is it Mr. Pettinati?" Waverly asked.
"Something Chief Barker said…..Dilithium Sulfide….I'll have to check it in the lab….I wonder if Mr. Solo loaded this clip while they were under cover, or if they were outside….It's still raining isn't it?"
Almost as if on cue a loud thunderclap resonated outside.
Harper looked at his boss.
"You think the clip was tampered with? Maybe coated with DS?" the younger man asked.
"That would explain the amount of burn and the release of the double rounds…especially if it was exposed to water. I'll check this in the lab and get the information to you right away Mr. Waverly."
The chirp of a communicator sounded. Waverly removed his.
"Waverly here."
"Mr. Waverly….Doctor Martz would like to see you in Medical immediately sir." Lisa Rogers said.
"I'm on my way, Miss Rogers."
Waverly turned and moved unexpectedly fast out of the room and up the hallway.
"If Solo doesn't make it," Barker said low, "I'm afraid Mr. Waverly may not be able to handle it."
"But he has had other Agents under him die in the line of duty before," Harper said.
"Yes, but not an agent like Napoleon Solo…He's not only the youngest CEA we ever had, but he is next in line for Section one number one. Waverly thinks of Solo as more than just another agent, Mr. Harper."
Pettinati moved the magnifier away and looked at the two men.
"Come on Harper," he said, "We have a lot of work to do."
Randolph Sequa leaned back in the large plush chair and brushed his fingers of the soft fabric. The young secretary came up to him and he took the Brandy snifter from the tray she was holding. He gave the crystal a tip and gently swilled the wonderful elixir inside a few times. He gently moved the rim of the glass blow his nose and breathed in the aroma. He closed his eyes and sighed.
The man sitting across from him smiled and made a light laugh.
"I thought a little Napoleon Brandy was in order Randolph," Lewis Sharpton said raising his own glass, "I would have given anything to have his face when that new master weapon exploded on him."
Sequa smiled and nodded in agreement. He watch he young woman walk out the door.
"Same here sir," Randolph said, "Unfortunately it was just too dark and too much dust and smoke to get a good look. But if the rest of his injuries are as bad as his hand…..We won't have to worry about Napoleon Solo from here on."
"Bad?"
"From what I could see as they carried him out of the alley, burned and bits of skin flapping in the wind."
Sharpton cringed and made a disgusted expression.
"Please Sequa, not while I'm enjoying such a delightful drink."
Both men laughed and tipped their glasses once more.
"The only problem now," Sharpton said, "Will be agent Kuryakin…Undoubtedly his next move will be revenge for his fallen, ah, "comrade"."
Sequa shook his head no.
"Waverly wouldn't allow it. Revenge is not something U.N.C.L.E. condones from their agents. Besides most likely it will be deemed an accident by their weapons expert…."
"Pettinati? I almost forgot about that incompetent boob. Teacher of yours wasn't he?"
"Yes sir. Taught me everything I know. And everything else I learned from THRUSH!"
The young woman came in and refilled their glasses. Randolph smiled at her as she filled his glass. His free hand reached over and caressed the back of her leg, then slid up inside her short skirt. The woman jumped slightly but made no indication of having been violated by his probing digits.
Randolph moved his hand and gave her a hard firm slap on the backside.
"Astrid, bring another bottle to my room in an hour," he told her, "And two glasses."
Astrid Wyss was the only woman in THRUSH who could have given Serena a run for her money. Tall slender at the shoulders and waist, truly the hourglass figure men often dream about. Her hair the color of yellow corn and her eyes were a soft and inviting shade blue-green. The soft blush of her cheek could turn any man's head as she would drop her eyes coyly and seductively part her full pink lips. A natural beauty born and raised in the Swiss Alps, she had been relocated to the THRUSH operations in the United States.
"Leave her alone Randolph," Sharpton said smiling, "She has enough to deal with without your lechery."
Sequa laughed and looked at her.
"But she enjoys being with me," he said, "Don't you?"
Astrid walked over to Sharpton and filled his glass. She felt safer around him. The young woman looked at the other THRUSH and took a deep breath.
"Almost as much as having my appendix removed without anesthetic," she said to Randolph giving him a slight shoulder shrug.
Sharpton nearly choked on his laughter. He wiped his eyes.
"That's my girl," he said clipping her chin and pulling her lips to his in a kiss.
"Still I want her in my room in an hour," Randolph said forcefully.
"Oh whatever," Sharpton said resigning to the fact that the man wanted her and would have her regardless of what he said, "Humor him, Astrid."
The woman stood up and replaced the stopper on the Brandy bottle.
"If you've ever seen him naked," she said, "He already has a sense of humor."
She turned and walked out of the room, leaving Sharpton in a fit of hysterical laughter and Sequa in the mood to kill.
Waverly stepped out of the elevator just as Martz was finishing giving his orders to the ICU team. The doctor looked at the UNCLE Chief. He motioned for Waverly to follow him across the hall into one of the empty wards.
"The only good news I have Alexander is that the burns to his hand are not as serious as they first appeared….We had a difficult time removing the metal piece form his forehead. It had penetrated the soft skull tissue. Blood began to build behind the bone when we removed it. We managed to stop the bleeding…He is on life support at the moment…I would suggest you notify his Aunt and see if his Cousin from Canada can fly in."
"Certainly it isn't that…"
"You have to face it Alexander….Unless you believe in miracles…."
Waverly coughed a few times to clear his throat.
"I always have, Quinton," the Chief said, "I've seen enough of them."
"Alex….." Martz said sympathetically.
But Waverly stopped him. He would notify Napoleon's family but only to have them by for support. He started back towards the door.
"I can only do so much," Martz said loudly.
"But you'll do all you can," Waverly replied as he opened the door and stepped into the hall.
Martz folded his arms across his chest and gave his eyes a hard rub with his fingers.
Waverly started down the hall towards the ICU room when Kuryakin stepped out in front of him. For a moment the two men studied one another. Illya was able to read his boss almost as well as he could Napoleon.
Waverly saw the young agent's eyes glaze slightly. It was a look he had seen many years ago when the two agents had been on their first assignment and Solo had been injured. Without saying a word the U.N.C.L.E. Chief put his hand on Kuryakin's shoulder and the two men walked together down the hallway.
Sequa waited for Astrid to arrive. She came in with the Brandy and glasses. Sitting the tray on the dresser she saw his reflection in the mirror as he walked up behind her. His arms slipped around her and he poured out their drinks.
"So what were you celebrating earlier?" she asked so disinterested she almost yawned.
"The demise of one Napoleon Solo," Sequa said pressing his face to her neck.
She dropped her glass. The crystal shattered and Brandy went everywhere.
"What's wrong with you?" Randolph asked giving her a sharp bite on the shoulder.
"I felt something poke me."
"That was me my dear and my concealed weapon."
"That wouldn't have been a poke," she said turning towards him coolly, "More like a prick," she looked down, "And a little prick at that."
Randolph roared with anger. He grabbed her by the arms only to find himself seconds latter flat on the floor, gasping for his breath. The victim of a perfectly executed judo flip. He felt himself temporarily unable to move from the pain.
"I leaned from the best," Astrid said, smiling at him.
Randolph Sequa yelled in agony as the woman's foot placed a powerful kick to his groin. He doubled over in pain, his hands now firmly pressed against his swelling manhood.
Astrid took the last of the Brandy, poured herself a drink and raised her glass to the downed THRUSH.
"You were right Randolph," she said taking a drink, "I did enjoy it!"
Waverly was sitting quietly at his desk when the pneumatic door hissed open. He stood up as Illya Kuryakin walked in, Napoleon's aunt, Amy Penobscot at his side. The woman gave the younger agents arm a pat and walked over to the UNCLE Chief. Waverly gave her a warm hug and held her arm as Illya held her chair.
"Please Alexander," she said, "Please tell me he is going to be alright."
"I hope so," was all Waverly could say.
Amy began to cry. Illya handed her his handkerchief. She smiled weakly up at the Russian.
"Thank you Illya.…I really don't know how much more of this I can take," she said.
Illya knew she was not just talking about Napoleon, but her daughter Marnie.
Marnie was another U.N.C.L.E. agent assigned to the Canadian Sector, specifically the PNW (Pacific Northwest) division. Only eight months ago she had taken a directed hit by a THRUSH vehicle. Broken legs, in traction for two months, shattered arm, fractured skull. It had to be in the genes, she forced herself to recover as quickly as possible so she could return to duty.
Amy had only found her daughter again a little over a year and a half before, thanks to Alexander Waverly and now their tiny family was together. Amy, Marnie and Napoleon; they were all the family they had.
"Marnie and her partner are on assignment right now," Waverly said, "Last reports were that they were safe but it will be a few weeks before their mission is over. Then she is to report here immediately."
Out of the corner of her eye, Amy saw the slender blond next to her smile slightly. She looked at him. His cheeks blushed. She knew there was something between the Russian and her daughter but they were both consenting adults. She reached over and gave Illya's hand a soft squeeze.
The table console buzzed. Waverly flipped the switch.
"This is Mr. Pettinati, Could you please come to the weapons lab, sir….I've found something…"
"Dilithium Sulfate….A power. Injected into the ammunition clip and the short barrel..Once the two pieces were exposed to the rain water, they became extremely flammable. The release mechanism in the clip melted, causing the two rounds to fire simultaneously, when the hit inside the barrel it caused the weapon to explode….And thanks to some rather ingenious experimentation by Mr. Harper we were able to lift two finger prints from the outside of the clip…..Mr. Solo's and Randolph Sequa."
"Well done Mr. Pettinati and you also Mr. Harper. Excellent work…Now we know who to look for."
Amy and Illya went down to Solo's room. They stood quietly at the door while Doctor Martz finished up his check on the agent. He walked towards them.
"How is he Doctor?" Amy asked.
Martz saw the look on Kuryakin' face.
"I have to tell you, he is critical, but stable. Right now we just have to wait and see. I wish I had more. Please, not too long a visit…Okay?"
Amy nodded. Martz left them alone. They walked over closer to the bed.
Napoleon's entire head was wrapped in thick gaze bandages. His mouth the only part of his handsome face exposed, but a thick tube feeding him oxygen covered most of that. His left hand was bandaged and elevated on a pillow. His body attached to the various machines keeping him alive.
"He'll be alright," Illya said, trying to keep his voice steady, "Napoleon Solo is tough….He's been in situations like this before…..He'll be alright."
Amy turned and looked at him.
"Illya you don't need to convince me," she said placing her soft hand to his cheek, "Or yourself either."
Illya took her hand and gently kissed her palm. She was a wonderful woman. And Napoleon was lucky to have someone like her in his life. She gave his cheek another pat and they sat down next to the bed.
For the next few hours they talked, to each other, to Napoleon. Not knowing if he could hear them. But they talked to him anyway.
One month later…..
Martz looked at the chart and made the last of his notes.
"Any reports on the THRUSH that caused all this, Alexander?" he asked as he scribbled the information on the chart.
"Nothing. No Intel of any kind. And nothing from the other four who were with him. I'm beginning to worry about one of our operatives working inside as well. We haven't heard a word from her since the day this happened."
"And Mr. Kuryakin?"
"Working hard as usual..Of course the first words out of his mouth when he comes back into the office are "How is Napoleon?" Then he says hello." Waverly smiled. "He and Miss Dancer should be returning in a few days."
"Thanks for the warning," Martz said smiling.
The doctor looked over his notes and hung the chart on the wall. Waverly stood beside the bed and looked at Solo. He knew his man wouldn't let him down.
"How is he today?"
"Improving…He has been off the ventilator for almost two week, lungs sound fine. The burns to his face and hands are healing nicely. He may have some scaring on the hand but nothing more. He still has a long way to go. I swear Alexander…If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes I wouldn't have believed it."
"Oh ye of little faith," Waverly said smiling.
Martz shook his head and chuckled. Waverly was, as always, right. Being a man of medicine, Martz had to keep faith and science on different scales. It never ceased to amazing him though when things like this happened. Miracle? Call it what you like, but whatever it was he never looked at the gift with malice.
The men started to walk away when Waverly suddenly stopped.
"Quinton…"
The doctor turned around and saw Napoleon's good hand, his fingers clutching tight to the bottom edge of Waverly's jacket. He walked back over and tried to move the fingers only to feel them hold tighter.
"Welcome back Mr. Solo," Martz said.
Two more months pass…..
The two figures walked slowly down the hall in medical.
One still a bit unsteady, the other a rock.
They made their way into one of the examination rooms.
"Alright slacker," Illya said, "I'm tired of pulling your duty as well as mine."
Napoleon smiled as his partner helped him find the examination table. He felt the thick white bandages around his eyes tighten slightly.
"What's the matter….You don't like being a Seeing Eye agent?"
"It's not in my job description," Illya said with a fake huff in his voice.
"You didn't know there was a "take your partner for walkies" clause?"
Illya laughed. He helped Solo sit down on the examination table. He could feel Illya's hand tighten around his arm.
"Okay mom," Napoleon said, "I'm sitting down now. You can let go."
Kuryakin laughed and loosened his grip. He saw his partner smile and scoot back a few inches.
Napoleon rubbed his arm where the Russian had held him. He laughed slightly and leaned back. Illya just caught him as he almost flipped over the opposite side of the table.
"Damn it Napoleon!" Kuryakin shouted, "Just SIT. Don't lean; don't do anything...Just sit."
"Well you could have told me I was sitting on the side of the table and not the end..." Solo said
The doctor walked in with Mr. Waverly close behind. Solo heard the doctor pull the metal tray of instruments up next to the table.
"Alright Mr. Solo," Martz said, "Here we go…."
Illya and Waverly stood together as the doctor and his nurse began to slowly remove the bandages. The young woman dimmed the lights in the room slightly. Martz got down to the last few bandages. He raised Solo's hands up to cover his eyes. The doctor reached beneath the agents hand and removed the last two small bandages that covered each eye.
"Okay Napoleon," Martz said, "I want you to slowly open your eyes."
Napoleon hesitated then he felt his eyes flutter as he opened them. His body began to shake. Martz reached over and took hold of his patient. Waverly stepped past Illya and leaned towards Solo.
"Napoleon...give them a few more blinks..."
Napoleon's eyes fluttered then began to water. His pupils darted from side to side and he continued to shake. Illya saw the large brown eyes scan the room, the pupils dilating as they moved from the light to the darker spaces.
Solo raised his hands to his face. Martz and Waverly caught the young agent as he slipped from the table to the floor. He was on his knees. They helped him back up on the table.
"Mr. Solo…...Napoleon..." Waverly said trying to get the agent to calm down.
The normally staunch Chief threw his arms around the CEA's head and pressed him close. Illya watched as his boss stroked the back of his partners head and laid his face against Solo soft hair. This was not the type of reaction often seen in the U.N.C.L.E. Chief. Napoleon was shaking violently, but he refused to let the others see his tears.
"I'm very sorry Napoleon," Martz said gently, "We did everything we could..."