Marion tried desperately to break free but was unable to wrench herself away from the grasp of the strong hands that held her firmly. She felt herself being carried, then placed on a soft surface. A moment later, she heard what had to be a car's door slamming shut.

A moment later, the gag had been removed from her mouth, and arms were around her, comforting her. "Do not be afraid, Marion," said Illya. "Napoleon and I are taking you somewhere where you'll be safe."

"But why wasn't I safe at the hospital?" asked Marion.

"Someone there was trying to kill you," Illya told her. "They served you a poisoned cookie with your meal last night."

"They did?" Marion was shocked.

"Gervaise obviously had accomplices planted at the hospital," Illya replied. "That is why we had to get you away from there as quickly as possible. I am sorry we frightened you, but I am sure you can understand why we had to smuggle you out as we did."

Calmed by the Russian's soothing words, Marion felt herself begin to grow drowsy in his arms. "But where are you taking me?"

"A motel across town. It is sparse but adequate. I will take care of all your personal needs."

Marion was repulsed by the idea of Illya helping her to the restroom, Illya helping her to shower or bathe, Illya cleaning up after her. "If you don't mind," she said timidly. "I would prefer for there to be a woman available to take care of my personal needs."

"Now is not the time for modesty," Illya gently reproved her. "You can be assured that I will always treat you with the utmost respect."

"I would never doubt that," Marion replied. "It's just that..." She began to cry softly. "Oh, Illya, it's just so hard to be helpless like this!"

"I know." He held her and rubbed her back comfortingly. Before they reached their destination, she was asleep in his arms.

"She's slipped out of our hands," Gerard Ravel told his sister, Gervaise. "She's vanished from the hospital. Someone obviously suspected something and helped her to escape. I feel sure those two troublesome meddlers Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin had something to do with it."

"Well, you two incompetent fools had better find her, and fast!" Gervaise's eyes blazed with anger as she glared at Gerard and their brother, Germaine.

"Aw, give us a break, Sis!" Germaine whined. "We're trying as hard as we can to find her!"

"Well, try harder!" Gervaise shrieked.

"We will," Gerard said humbly.

"Aren't you getting tired of letting her push you around?" Germaine asked his brother later, when they were alone. "She's been bossing both of us around since we were kids, and I'm getting pretty sick and tired of it!"

"Shut your trap, or I'll shut it for you!" Gerard growled.

"Just look at you, always taking her side!" Germaine whined.

The bed in the motel room was more comfortable than the one in the hospital had been, but Marion felt anxious at the thought of no longer being under the care of professional health care providers. She trusted Illya, but she was afraid of being a burden on him and Napoleon.

When the ache in her abdomen first started, she tried to tell herself that she was imagining things, that the vague pain was merely a result of her tendency to over worry. She dozed for a bit, and when she awakened, the pain was much sharper, and the urge to evacuate her bowels was overpowering.

"Illya!" she cried. "I need to use the restroom, right away!"

He took her arm and led her to the toilet. The powerful spasms coursing through the lower part of her body didn't allow her the luxury of waiting to make sure Illya had left the restroom first. She was seated just in time.

Painfully aware of the sounds made by her body's natural functions, she barely even noticed the relief she felt afterwards. She found the restroom door by touch and just stood there, trying to remember which direction the bed was in.

"Marion! Why didn't you call me? You could have fallen and hurt yourself!" Illya scolded.

"I don't want to be a burden..."

"You're going right back to bed this instant!" He took her arm and guided her back to the bed.

"I'm sorry..." she mumbled, feeling her face burn.

"I did not mean to sound harsh," Illya said apologetically. "I am only concerned for your safety."

"I know," Marion said quietly. She was hardly back in bed before her stomach was rumbling again, but it was a different type of discomfort this time. "Bring a bowl, quick!" she gasped. She felt her stomach heaving, felt herself retching, prayed that Illya had caught it all in the bowl.

"Did any get on the bed or the floor?" she asked.

"No. It all went in the bowl," Illya said. A few moments later, she felt him gently wiping her face with a wet cloth. "There. Is that better?"

"Much," she mumbled, acutely embarrassed once again. "Thank you."

"No problem at all," he said. "Try to get some rest now." He helped her to lie down, then sat at her side gently rubbing her back until she fell asleep. Then he went to talk to Napoleon in private.

"I fear that Marion has contracted food poisoning," he told his former partner. "Someone must have served her spoiled food at the hospital, perhaps deliberately."

"It could just be a stomach bug," Napoleon suggested.

"Perhaps," Illya replied. "But I doubt it. We must be vigilant to ensure that she does not become dehydrated. If that happens, she must be hospitalized again."

Marion had severe diarrhea and vomiting for several days. Illya fed her flat ginger ale, clear broth, and fruit-flavored Popsicles, and on the third day, her symptoms finally subsided.

Gerard and Germaine Ravel combed all the neighborhoods of New York, gradually venturing further and further out, until they eventually found themselves on the other side of town from where they'd started. "Hey, look!" Germaine suddenly shouted. Outside an out-of-the-way motel, he'd caught a glimpse of a vehicle he recognized. Gerard saw it too and gave a whoop of joy. He recognized it as well.