Illya Kuryakin was only three days into three weeks of light duties and, in the words of his partner, he was slowly going nuts. By rights, and by his doctor's instructions, he should have been spending those weeks on medical leave. However, Illya Kuryakin was not a man who embraced idleness easily, and had badgered Dr Barrie enough to get him to relent and allow light duties.

Having been a guest of Thrush for over a week, during which he endured many of their physical and psychological persuasion techniques, Illya was wise enough to know he wasn't yet fit enough for the field. Although he hadn't received any long-term injuries, and still needed time to recover properly, Illya had managed to argue his way out of medical earlier than her should. This, and his request for light duty, had been permitted only on the understanding he would take things easy.

For the first day, Illya had taken the opportunity to catch up on his and Napoleon's paperwork. Somewhat surprisingly though, there hadn't been anywhere near as much as he'd expected. Solo had apparently done it all while his partner had been laid up in medical.

On the second day, Illya opted to see what was happening in the labs. He had no experiments or research of his own going on, but was sure his assistance would be welcomed by others. Illya was popular among the staff of R&D as, unlike other Section 2 agents, he had studied science and had even gained a PhD. His visit to the labs, however, yielded nothing. Everyone claimed to on top of everything, (which was completely unknown in any lab, anywhere,) and so his help wasn't required. Somewhat disconsolately, he busied himself tidying up the tiny room which had been allocated as his personal lab. The problem was, he was a naturally tidy person so, even stretching it out, it only took all of ten minutes.

Illya reluctantly left the labs, deciding to try his luck in the translations department. He was well versed in several languages, and there was always something waiting which there hadn't yet been time for. Except, this time, there wasn't. He was informed that there was absolutely nothing which needed translating. He was then thanked for his offer, but was sent on his way fairly quickly.

Illya was beginning to feel a little unwanted, but felt certain he would be welcomed in Communications. It was an exceptionally busy department, which was often understaffed and overworked. There was bound to be something he could help with.

He was wrong.

His next port of call was the secretarial pool. They always had a backlog and, as he had assisted them during previous stints of light duty, Illya knew they would soon have him working. Yet, once again, he was knocked back. He was beginning to suspect that there was some sort of conspiracy afoot, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Still, there were plenty of other places he could offer his services.

After trying the archives, the armoury, security, and even Del Floria's, Illya finally admitted defeat, and stalked off back to his office. There he found Napoleon reading through a mission file. Illya related his tale of woe, and asked if his partner if he knew of anything in the building he could be doing.

"Are you up for a night shift?" Napoleon had asked. "I need someone to monitor a possible Thrush overnight. We have cameras set up in his hotel but no-one is free to watch him."

Illya readily agreed.

That had been last night. Illya had stationed himself at a monitor, and readied himself to note down everything the man did and said. It turned out to be exceptionally little. When Illya had begun watching, the man was emerging from the shower, whereupon he read a book for two hours, before settling down to sleep. He didn't wake again until Illya was halfway through the breakfast which had been brought to him.

At 8:30, Napoleon arrived for his partner's report. Illya didn't reply immediately. Instead he picked up his pen, and wrote three words on a piece of paper.

"I surrender," he stated, thrusting the paper at Solo. "I am going home, and will return in two and a half weeks."

Solo watched as the Russian walked out, and then laughed at the words he'd written.

NOTHING TO REPORT

Napoleon flicked a switch on the communications panel and the man on the screen pulled a communicator pen from his pocket.

"Telford," he said.

"You can stand down, Charlie," Solo told him. "He's taken the hint."

"It's about time. I'm itching to get this disguise off. See you back at HQ."

Napoleon cut the link and headed off to go to Mr Waverly's office. He called into medical on the way and invited Dr Barrie to join him.

"The plan worked," he announced, once they were seated at the round conference table. "Everybody did a fantastic job. He was turned away from every department he went to, and last night's surveillance was his final straw."

"Splendid work, gentlemen," Waverly congratulated. "It was a fine scheme. However, I would not wish to be in the shoes of either of you should Mr Kuryakin discover your deception."

"I can handle him," Napoleon replied with a shrug, though there was a slight flicker of fear in his eyes. "He'll get over it . . . eventually."

"All that matters," Dr Barrie stated. "Is that Illya Kuryakin is finally going follow my orders, and take the medical leave he is due to."