Chapter Four

"Lexi, time to wake up and take that tube out…"

Tube…her mind echoed when she started to swim to the surface of consciousness. Along with awareness came pain and stiffness. The muscles in her throat were in spasm when the feel of the endotracheal tube became obvious and hard to breathe through. She could feel it tug and stretch her right nostril that it was taped to.

Hands held hers down while she tried to find the strength to open both eyes. A blinding light flashed in eye and then the other. The shock of the bright light brought her mind and body fully awake while she struggled with sensory overload. All Lexi wanted to do was to pull the tube down her windpipe out, but couldn't open her mouth to scream and her body began to thrash about.

"Whoa there, little lady, I know it's tough puffing on a straw, but we have to see if you can keep breathing on your own first." A face came into focus above her and Lexi tried push away from it. She had no voice to yell for help. "Hey, it's me, George; you're safe."

It took a few moments for Lexi to take in all of what he was saying and override the overwhelming sensations her body was taking in, but George's chatty voice filtered through the madness and eventually calmed her.

"April's in one of the detention cells. As soon as she was sent to see Dr. Paul after your cat fight, she went hysterical, and old Benny Samuel's, here, thinks that she was under some kind of deep hypnosis that wasn't reached by our usual antidotes.

"With time, she'll be back to the normal-minded Section Two agent we all know and love. We didn't beat Benny at the punch, but we'll get him the next time. Drugs always win."

"George, it is Ben, not Benny."

A voice rang out on Lexi's other side that made her slightly turn her head to see the quiet, thoughtful man looking at her. She knew that they would have to have at least of one of those torturous "discussions" about her latest assignment, torture, and rape.

He didn't know who she really was. A Russian assassin trained to survive anything, not the simple Midwesterner who was Illya's unexpected girlfriend. Like him, she tried to avoid psychiatrists who wanted to talk about her feelings as if they worked for THRUSH.

George winked at her and then shrugged an apology to the upset, mousey man. What Samuel wanted most from his colleagues was their respect for his job and profession. He knew it was hard to get that from anyone from Section Two, but he expected it from at least among the doctors; George, Illya, and Lexi included.

"You gave us a fright," George broke through her train of thought. "We almost lost you until a syringe was found under the table when they were cleaning all that glass off the floor. The nurses were able to tell us what it was after they did an inventory. What a party you two were having and you didn't bother to invite me."

Lexi looked at George, let go of his hand, and gave him a hand signal.

"Well," he smiled after reading what she signed. "I haven't tried to learn sign language since grade school but I know that one wasn't very nice. No birdies allowed in headquarters. What would Illya say? No, scratch that, he'd probably give me two of them. Now, be nice so Robert can pull that nasty tube out."

"George, are you done yet," Allen asked in an impatient huff. He was standing where Lexi didn't see him at first. "Some of us have real doctor work to do. Okay, Lexi, two deep breaths in and then I'll quickly pull the tube out. I won't lie to you; it'll hurt like hell and I have suction ready if your nose starts bleeding."

Lexi did as she was told, took the breaths in and then concentrated on holding George's hand with her good one so she wouldn't punch the Surgeon. With the tube out of her vocal cords, she was able to groan in discomfort and finally swallow. In the next breath she garbled out curses in many different languages as she could with her jaws wired shut.

"Good job, my dear. Now, like I tell that other stubborn Russian we both know and love, your throat will be dry and sore. I can't let you drink for another thirty minutes, but then I want you to try and push high calorie fluids. You won't make weight if you don't.

"I believe that Illya is fond of double chocolate shakes; we will have to find out what flavors you like. And don't give me that look about milk products. It's either that or it's a feeding tube down that raw, irritated nose of yours."

Lexi silently mouthed a few more curse words directed specifically at Allen while giving him another not-so-savory hand gesture. She then smiled softly, gave him a wink, and nodded in understanding of what he wanted her to do.

"What's going on here?" Samuel asked. "Are you saying that Monica is Russian? But, her profile says that she's American, from Iowa for pity sakes."

George and Robert had forgotten that Ben didn't know her secret and looked to Lexi for permission. She rolled her eyes and nodded after she stretched out her neck from being in one position for a long time. With the wave of an impatient hand at George to tell Samuel the truth, she started to look for the hand control to raise the head of the bed to get more comfortable.

"Well, Benny…" George started.

"Ben." Samuel said seriously. George and Lexi snorted in amusement like two grade-schoolers.

"Lexi was Illya's first partner in the Soviet Union when they were young. Speaking of the man," George interrupted himself to fill her in. "He's developed a new homing device. He had it stuffed in his labcoat along with a microphone so Mr. Waverly could hear what that imposter was saying. Anyway, the device works in a drug that is injected into the blood stream. We'd made it while you were gone at Survival School. It interacts with the hemoglobin in a person's blood. We didn't get much of a chance to test it beforehand, but we did pick up a weak signal a little while ago. It has a mile or so range, we figured. Mark is leading a team to find him and Napoleon."

With the mention of Napoleon's name, Lexi involuntarily shivered. George took her hand and squeezed it lightly. Samuel took that moment to move closer to the bed and sit on its edge. He made sure that she knew he was there, but didn't try to touch her.

Eying Ben suspiciously, Lexi gave him a quirky smile and motioned George to continue on with his story about her life to the friendly enemy.

"As I start this story, Ben, you have to promise to keep it on the 'need-to-know' basis." George started again after the man nodded patiently and quietly listened. "Now this is what old lock jaw here has told me so far. Alexana Sonja Dolchi was born…"

MFU/MFU

When the blindfold came off, Illya blinked to adjust his eyes. He was not surprised to find himself in a darkened, enclosed, parking garage. He and his captors had been driving for over thirty minutes according to his internal clock. Nothing was discussed or spoken to him. He listened to the movement of the car and traffic going by.

"Come on, oh chosen one," the imposter grumbled, led Illya by the elbow to the elevators, and pushed the "up" button.

Illya grimaced at his sarcastic comment, but remained quiet and his jaw tensed. He boldly walked into the elevator, stopped at the back wall, turned around, crossed his arms over his chest, and waited for the rest to enter.

"I want to see Napoleon Solo first." Illya's voice said calmly from the back of the elevator.

He stood firmly, unflinching while the two thugs flexed their hands nervously toward their weapons. The Napoleon look-alike just smiled, put his hands in his pockets, and looked down at his shoes.

"Agreed," a deep voice echoed into the tiny elevator, making everyone jump with surprise.

A humph of laughter rang out from the imposter. He reached out and pushed a different button on the panel. "What Mr. Kuryakin wants, he gets."

"Well, I am the heir apparent." Illya said smugly and he kept a steady gaze on the ring leader.

"We shall see," the man countered back with a challenging tone.

The elevator doors opened to a short, stark, gray hallway with a single door at one end. Cameras in the ceiling followed the group's track to the door. Just inside the entrance, there was a plain, metal desk with three monitors on it and an armed guard sitting at attention.

Across from him were three doors that were solid with only an opaque window and a food slot. With a nod to the guard, he stood up, walked to the middle door, and waited for Kuryakin to meet him there before he unlocked it.

As the door swung open, Illya could see his partner sitting on a single, solid metal cot suspended from the wall by a couple of industrial strength chains.

Illya slowly walked past the guard and into the sparse cell. Beside his partner and the flat bed with two blankets, there wasn't anything else. The door closed behind the UNCLE agent with a lock.

Napoleon had his back against one wall in the corner and stared at the other plain, white wall. He only gave Illya the briefest of looks before he returned to staring at the cracks between the heavily painted brick. Neither of them spoke a word for a full three minutes.

"I think that I've gone insane." Napoleon said in a hush voice.

"That's a little melodramatic don't you think?" Illya smirked and shifted his posture. "I do have other people to see right now."

"Oh, I think I have the right to be." Napoleon rolled his head to finally face his blond partner. "I don't know what day it is. I've had nothing to do, no one to talk to except for a single guard through a frosted glass window, who only will tells me when it's time to eat, drink, and lights are going out. I haven't been asked to betray UNCLE, beaten, or even drugged that I know of."

"That must be the ultimate torture for you, you selfish American," Illya's dead-pan delivery brought Napoleon's eyes up in mock shock. "It just goes to show that you and your over inflated ego can't stand being alone. Is there no one around here to listen to your insensate, self-centered chatter and made-up accomplishments?"

"Now, I know that you're my real partner." Napoleon said with the smallest hint of relief. "But, I think what's even more depressing is to see someone else trying to wear my clothes. One minute, I'm waiting for April and then Napoleon Solo is walking into the hotel room and shoots me with a tranquilizing dart. His clothes weren't even designer.

"The next thing I'm aware of is being in this cell. It's a truly maddening thought to a sharp mind like mine. Your unimaginative mind could handle it quite well and much better than…"

"Careful Napoleon," Illya snorted in a hollow threat. "I may prefer the fake Napoleon to you. Although, I think that he would be more than happy to see me dead. Who would take care of all your paperwork and check on my experiments?"

"Ah, a man with taste," the taller agent's eye sparkled as their banter covered up what was said non-verbally between the partners of several years.

"I don't think even Mark could take your constant womanizing." Illya winked his eye.

Before more could be said, a knock was heard and the door opened to a guard waiting with his hand on his revolver. Neither agent moved from their spot while the guard looked from one man to the other before he motioned Kuryakin to come back out into the hallway.

"I guess that's my cue to leave," Illya shrugged and eyed the dark-haired agent who nodded his understanding.

"Be sure to leave the door open; it gets stuffy in here…"

Before Solo could finish his comment, the heavy door swung shut and the definite sound of a door lock turning back into place.

"Hey! At least bring me a glass of Scotch! I'll even take water!"

MFU/MFU

After another quiet ride in the elevator with the imposter and two nervous thugs, Illya didn't see enough change in appearance to where they were going or what floor they were on. He was used to gray metal walls and the pang of their footfalls from the heels of shoes on steel, but missed the people walking the halls of headquarters. The silence was monstrous and it echoed throughout the windowless tunnel.

The plain metal door opened to a wooden-paneled reception room with low, slung back, black leather benches. A slim older lady sitting at the desk only looked up with irritated eyes over wire rimmed glasses and sighed, closed her memo book, turned, and pushed a button.

"Mr. Santo, Mr. Kuryakin, he is ready for you," the lady said with her attention was still on the panel at her desk. She flipped a few more switches with frustration and her mouth formed a straight line with a grimace. "You may go in. You other two, wait here with me. I have an assignment for you."

The last button she pushed was to open the automatic door off to the right. The two men walked into the office when the phone rang and the receptionist picked it up, pulled off her glasses, and let them drop to hang by their chain. "Yes, dear, I'm aware of it. Code X95 will be activated."

MFU/MFU

Kuryakin and Santo walked into the spacious office. One side of it was filled with a massive conference table and chairs, whereas the other half contained a single-sized desk. Only two standard windows opened up to the outside world. The rest of the gray walls were closed shielding, hiding what was behind them.

No one appeared to be in the room and Santo started to walk toward the conference table. Illya took a moment to look around the sparse office before he joined the imposter, only on the other side of the conference table.

He watched the correctly named Santo instead of Napoleon look-a-like fidget with his tie, glancing around nervously. Smiling inwardly, Illya knew how he felt, but chose to remain calm and concentrate on his fingers laying loosely in his lap.

A big man with snow-white hair about the age of Mr. Waverly, holding a file, walked in from a hidden panel behind the desk, and up to the two seated men. His head bent while he read the information off the file from atop the table, pulled a remote out of his pocket, pressed the button, and then set it on the table. For a long minute, he appeared to ignore his visitors.

Illya took this time to assess this older gentleman; tall: firmly muscled, studious, and calculating. His gut instinct told him that he was not to be trusted and he'd met this man before. Kuryakin didn't know why, but when he thought about it, he had met his receptionist as well.

Like a painful memory lost in a fog that was still tangible, but not quite clear to him yet. This man was definitely from Illya's youth, in Kiev, if he had to pick a time and place. Kuryakin's hand twitched as if it was trying to pull out scenes of his life that had been buried for so long. The ones he and Lexi had tried so hard to forget ever existed.

With his mind reeling, the younger blond man turned his eyes to his attire: a basic black suit, a blood-red tie with the Soviet Union's symbol dead center, and a starched stiffed white, lab coat. It was almost as if they had mirrored each other in many ways. Illya wondered if some of his quirks in personality had come from watching this powerful man when he was a boy.

While he chewed on his thoughts, Kuryakin waited for the man to look at him, which he didn't.

"Mr. Santo," the deep, full voice addressed the visibly trembling agent.

The soft swoosh of an opening door interrupted the older man when the receptionist and the same two thugs came in from the reception area. She stepped toward the man Illya now assumed was Mr. X and handed him a note. The closeness in which she stood told the UNCLE agent that they were more than casual co-workers.

While she waited for his response, she flicked a small glance and smile to Illya that had him wondering again where he had seen her. He could see that she was excited and wanted to talk with him, but couldn't.

"Yes, I see," Mr. X grunted when he spoke quietly to her. "You were right, my dear. We must complete this meeting first, take care of loose ends, and then it will be time for us."

"Any clue yet," she asked, gently squeezed his arm and then back away when she felt his arm muscles tense.

"Mr. Santo," Mr. X began again, cleared his throat, and raised his voice. "Do you realize that you let Mr. Kuryakin here carry a homing device on him?"

"Not possible, sir," Santo shook his head angrily. "I used all our devices on him before the last car ride. I didn't do anything except to…"

"Yes," Mr. X raised his eyebrows and patiently looked at the man who rolled his eyes, flashing pure hate across the table at Kuryakin.

"I injected the bastard with the drug he was going to give me in UNCLE headquarters had I not convinced him to let me go. No wonder you didn't seem to be affected by it. What does it do?"

"Mr. Kuryakin, care to fill us in?"

"UNCLE developed a chemical compound that would attach to the hemoglobin in the blood to make it readable in a low amplitude frequency with a range of one and a half to two point three miles."

"Ingenious." Mr. X smiled, but he didn't even look at Kuryakin, but kept a steady gaze on Santo who cringed as he listened. "What would have happened if he hadn't injected you?"

"Not a variable." Illya simply said softly and the receptionist suddenly laughed out. "Mr. Santo has shown great aggression toward all UNCLE agents, especially females and myself, so I knew that the temptation for him was too great. Being allowed to see Mr. Solo was a bonus that I hadn't counted on, because now I know that when the attack force comes, he is in the same building."

"Yes, I know that UNCLE and Alexander are coming, but we have some time before that happens. I heard what you didn't say to your partner. Very good, Mr. Kuryakin, I'm almost tempted to keep both of you to work for me. But, be assured, as we close up shop here, your Mr. Solo is still in a very tenuous position for a little while longer. The cell he's in has the function to release a deadly nerve gas that kills within seconds. You'll have to indulge me a while longer."

This time, he looked right at Kuryakin. His deep brown eyes were sharp and showed enormous strength behind them. It was calculating, fierce, and impersonal glare that didn't release Illya's until he chose to let go.

"I understand." Illya said quietly like he was a child listening to a teacher.

"Now, back to Mr. Santo," Mr. X turned back to the man who stood up from his chair to be at eye level with his boss. "You were given several chances to redeem yourself. I'd picked you to lead UNCLE into the next decade as Waverly's heir, but your conditioning has been flawed. You haven't developed into what is needed to complete the mission.

"You haven't showed restraint with your enemies nor do you understand the basic knowledge of how to interact with others to achieve a comprehensive conclusion to what the ultimate goal is. Force, violence, and cruelty are the only thing you know."

A gun from Santo's holster was pulled out with lighting speed. He pointed it right at Kuryakin, who quickly stood up. "It sounds like you've just signed my death warrant with that little stunt you pulled. All of this is lost anyway. I might as well take the Crown Prince with me. You've been nothing but a constant reminder of the perfect creations you two were. I'm glad that I killed the other one…"

Santo waved his gun between Mr. X and Illya, but he had forgotten the grey haired receptionist, who took aim with a dart gun and shot the man in the back. He lurched forward with a jerk; the gun went off wide of his target before he fell on top of the table, dead.

Silently, the two thugs picked Santo's body up and carried it out of the room with the receptionist following. Mr. X shook his head, sighed, and took a pen out of his lab coat. He opened the file on the table, crossed off a few items, and put the pen down in despair. Rubbing his face, Mr. X sat down heavily in the chair next to where Illya stood.

The receptionist came back in and to stand between Mr. X and Illya. She put her hand lightly on Mr. X's shoulder as she extended her warm, petite hand to Illya.

Hesitantly, he took her offered hand and politely kissed it. He was surprised to feel the strength that ran through it. Like a chameleon, she changed from a hardened killer to a sweet, motherly woman. Her violet eyes sparkled when she looked him up and down. Lexi had that same characteristic that was very disarming.

"Illya darling, you look just like your mother, Julia," the chameleon charmingly said in Russian to the agent and she put her hand on his shoulder to guide him down into the chair. "Tell me that you haven't forgotten me and Silas."

"Marta," Mr. X's booming voice said, he cautioned her in their native tongue. "He hasn't seen you since he was eleven years old and then it was under hypnosis."

"I remember," Illya said softly in English after a small, unconscious shiver ran throughout his body. "You helped Yeni Dolchi and General Boris Kuryakin turn Alexana and me into trained killers after the war."

"Oh, it started way before then," Silas grunted, closed the file he was writing in, and tossed it in front of him. "Do you know how you and Alexana got to be friends?"

"Our fathers were spying on the Nazis and became friends when they were working together."

"Yes, yes, but before your fathers' stupidly decided to fight for the good of the Soviet Union." Silas grumbled with an impatient wave of his hand. "Before for that."

"Before," Illya asked, "I was living with my father and Grandmother with the Gypsies on the plains after my mother died trying to deliver my premature brother."

"Yes, that was a sad time for us all," Marta nodded sadly. "I mourned your mother's death for a long time."

"Fine, we all mourned, because she and Yeni were the only ones in our study who were able to grow a fetus and give birth during the first round of our experiment. You and Alexana were the only two to survive with the genetic coding completely intact.

"Your mother's other baby didn't make it and she sacrificed her life to try again so soon after you were born. It was very selfish of your father, Nicholi, to want a son with only his genetic coding. And what ever Nicholi did, so did Alexana's pathetic father."

"Silas," Marta said sternly. "Remember, Edmund was my brother. I know that you didn't condone his and Nicholi's moral and national values. They weren't worldly thinkers like you. That's why I chose to stay with you even after we lost all those babies."

Illya listened to their exchange with horror and fascination. They were telling him more than he ever knew about his own life, but the scientist in him yearned to find out even more.

"You're Lexi's Aunt and Uncle," Illya said in astonishment. Should Marta know that she is still alive?

"Oh darling, I'm much more. I was part of her genetic code." Marta said in a mater-of-fact voice, "Not yours, a good thing too, because I found out that you two had become lovers. It's sad that she was killed in Kiev just over two years ago."

Illya looked up sharply at Silas who shrugged his shoulders, but didn't correct his wife while he absently nodded to her.

"My dear, I need to talk with Mr. Kuryakin alone. Why don't you go and check on the process of our pull out. UNCLE agents will be on this level in an hour. We need to prepare."

"Yes dear," Marta straightened up and changed back into the controlling receptionist again. "Will Mr. Kuryakin be joining us?"

"Yes, Margo, he will, but I haven't determined if it will be by force or not."

"Yes, Mr. X, Mr. Kuryakin, it's a pleasure to have you with us again. It's been a long time and it'll be nice to get to know you as an adult. No one else has survived the study as long as you did and all replacements have been inferior. It's a shame that Alexana changed the formula and now she's gone. We'll never be able to recreate it again. See you in twenty-five minutes and no later."

"Yes, thank you. Margo," Silas said in frustration.

Marta nodded, picked up the file, and lovingly patted Illya's hair like one would a beloved son. She left the office with a sense of determination in her walk.

Once she left, Silas looked at Kuryakin with a hard scrutiny in his thinking. "A trait of multiple personalities is something that we couldn't filter out. It's a strong defense mechanism that helps with emotional and physical abuse."

"Yes, I know," Illya smiled inwardly at all the names and personalities Lexi made up and used. He especially enjoyed Gretchen.

"It's all about genetics, really," Silas simply said, trying to explain his life-long scientific experiment to him. "We know that genes affect only part of the person. What we were trying to do was to create an optimal human vessel to accept advanced training to be an ultimate soldier. Bred and developed to endure hardship, pain, and have dogged resilience to survive the worst injury."

"A charming personality wasn't enough?" Illya's deadpan delivery got a rise from the older man's eyebrow.

"That was your uncle's part of the programming," Silas ignored the tart comment. "You were sent to all the right schools in other countries to improve your international knowledge while remaining loyal to the Soviet Union."

"Did we pass?" Illya asked.

"Yes and no, it was planned to have you at the international level to work within UNCLE and for us when needed. Alexana, we had more time to adjust her training while your self-righteous father took you away after Julia's death.

"In the end, he had to come back to Yeni and he asked her to take care of you while he went off to war. Did your father ever tell you about your mother?"

"He didn't say much." Illya admitted quietly. "My grandmother would tell me that Nicholi loved her so much that he couldn't talk about it for a very long time without a bottle of vodka in his hand. To be there for the collective good of Mother Russia and me, he didn't drink or talk much."

"Ah, the true hero that died for his country." Silas said in a way that made Illya feel that he thought it was a waste of effort and lives. "If we could have engineered hybrid assassins earlier, we would've killed a few key generals and saved thousands of lives. Julia believed that as well and was a scientist in behavioral child development for those surviving traumatic experiences."

"What makes you feel that Alexana and I failed?"

"I wouldn't say a complete failure, but a shift in perspective in that you have taken you training to another level. You're a success in the way you and Alexana survived as you did," Silas brought his hands flat on the table. "Only you two couldn't be manipulated to what we wanted anymore. You two decided to form an unbreakable bond and resist our orders.

"We had a big decision to make. We had Boris separate the two of you and were able to use Alexana for a while longer, but her pull to you was so great that it couldn't be ignored even under the strictest orders from General Kuryakin. Some believe that she may have poisoned him to get away."

"That I can't believe or won't believe," Illya spat out in anger and he shifted in his chair angrily. "Lexi would've told me. We've worked together to safeguard others from that damn formula; your blasted conditioning is useless without it.

"She sacrificed herself to save others. Just like her mother and our fathers. Their genes are the ones I'm most proud of. I don't kill because I'm told. I kill when I have to, when I need to save many by killing one. Mr. Waverly doesn't ask me to choose."

"Oh no?" Silas raised his voice a bit more. "He chooses that for you and you follow his orders. I supposed that you've never killed for revenge either? When someone raped Alexana or beat your partner, Napoleon Solo? It's still in you, waiting for the order. You weren't designed to think about it; just to kill."

"If Alexana and me weren't what you so desired, why didn't you make more assassins if we were so unmanageable?" he asked out of the blue.

"Ah, that's the rub, isn't it? We can't get any other of our formulas to work the same way it did on you. We tried to recreate it along with the conditioning, but none of it worked, because all the other test subjects had gone insane, eventually. Mr. Santo and Mr. Gurgel were the latest; we had switched to adults this time. They volunteered to take the revised formula and the conditioning, but the longer they went through the program, the more they became angry, violent, and homicidal, if not suicidal. Just like all the others we processed after you and Alexana. That note Marta gave me confirmed Gurgel's death during his climb up THRUSH's ladder.

"Same with Santo," the bigger scientist shook in frustration. "He'd become increasingly aggressive and violent toward all women. The public rape and death of that call girl would've been his last act except I needed him to get to you and he knew it.

"We knew that we had to get Alexander's attention to finish up Mr. Santo's transformation into Solo by providing our scientists with the real person for a day or two, but we weren't expecting to meet up with two other UNCLE agents investigating at the same time. We'd hoped that you would come after your partner, but you were in another country working on computer codes."

"Why didn't you tell Marta that it was Lexi that Santos raped and killed?"

"Because she would've killed him before I could get to you." Silas grunted out. "I didn't know that Alexana had planned her own death in Kiev until Miss Dancer was interrogated into telling us. She told me what Alexana had been doing for UNCLE and you after Santos had caught her in this office and killed her.

"Marta loved Alexana more than she should have for an experiment subject. She was her only flesh and blood that had survived. She helped care for her and her sister, Margaret, with Yeni when they were babies. Until each girl was four years old. We only heard about the hooker's death, but didn't see who Mr. Santos had killed."

"So, now for the million dollar question," Illya summarized, he knew that time was running short. "What do you want me to do? Only Lexi had any remote idea on how the formula was made and now she's dead. I will not kill for you and I will not come with you."

"We don't want you to kill for us, Illya." The man said with a grin. "We want to experiment on you and take over what was started all those years ago. We're the last of the original group of scientists to work on this project and we want you to continue our work. Bring UNCLE and THRUSH together to prevent the next world war."

"Not one person or group should have that kind of power and I won't do it. I'll do everything in my power to stop all of this. This project ends with me even if I have to die." Kuryakin stood up from the chair, firm with his conviction.

"Are you so sure of your ideals, Illya?" The man stood up as well and met the agent's challenge head on. "I could take you against your will, kill you just like the others, and dissect your brain. All in the interest of science…"

"You won't, because, as you said yourself, you need me," Illya angrily shouted. "I'm the heir to a fortune I don't want. I want to live up to the ideals of UNCLE and maintain what I have now. It's something there that you could never give me."

"And what is that? What can't we give you? You belong to us. You're loyal to whom we say you are and no one else," Silas laughed out at the outrageousness of his statement, drew out a gun, and pointed it him.

"I have a brother in Napoleon and a family in UNCLE," Illya boldly said and stood his ground. "And I've a love to last more than one lifetime, all my nine lives. Like you said, you can try to kill me, but I'll find a way to survive. Just like Lexi. Napoleon will always be there to rescue me as I'm there for him."

"Not if you're dead," he evilly grinned and cocked the gun.

"Death is a state of being and as long as I'm remembered by those who care about and love me, I will exist. I've Lexi waiting for me and a home right now. She survived the attack."

Just then, Marta opened the door and looked in. "No…Silas, you can't do this. We've to go before Alexander's men come."

Silas looked to Marta and than back at Illya, who hadn't moved a muscle. "Is she really alive?"

"Yes," Illya finally admitted. He smiled and glanced at the concerned look Marta was giving Silas. "The bullet was stopped by the KBG tracer. She'll survive and become stronger despite what Santo did to her."

Silas caught Illya's look to his wife and he sighed, but didn't lower the gun. Instead, he pushed a button and flipped a switch.

"Affairs of the heart are weaknesses that have us both in their grip. This isn't over, Illya. One day I will have you and Lexi with us. We're a part of both of you."

With that last comment, Silas shot Illya square in the chest and he fell back from the impact to the floor with a resounding thud.