Antonio strode unannounced into Bianci's office trailer. He pointedly threw the file folder of invoices and other papers onto the desk in front of the man. "You have some explaining to do!" His tone was determined and threatening, demanding of respect.

Bianci was surprised by Vicente's tone. His posture went tense, and he jerked back slightly. "I beg your pardon?" he said, a touch more nervous than he intended.

"This," Antonio said, slapping his muscular hand down on the file, "is full of lies, falsifications, and misleading information. I want to know exactly what's going on, and I want to know now!"

The construction boss swallowed hard and gave a weak smile. "I'm sure I have no idea what you are talking about. If you give me some time, I can check and see if there is anything amiss in your copy of the files," he said trying to sound truthful. "I assure you that everything is going totally as per plans and schedule though. You have nothing to be concerned about."

"Is that so?" Antonio said with more than a touch of sarcasm. "Then tell me what have the police said about this trespasser today?"

"Trespasser?" Bianci replied pretending to look puzzled. He shook his head. "There has been no trouble today."

The fact that Angelo had asked about it had completely slipped the man's mind.

"Again with the lies. You have one hour to clear out of here. I'm shutting this venture down until I get some answers." Antonio was firm on his decision. He was a decisive man when he took charge of a situation. It was what made him a businessman not to be trifled with.

All Bianci could do was sit there astonished and bluster nonsensical sounds as he tried to come up with something to say. Vicente vanished out the door before he could form another sentence.

Burke made his way across the yard to the woods where Saunders corralled him before a flurry of activity began to take place.

Saunders pulled Burke to the ground out of sight and slapped a hand over his mouth to silence him. "Where's Solo?"

Burke settled down once he realized it was his partner. "Solo? I haven't seen him."

"He went in to rescue you."

Burke preened. "I didn't need his help as it happens." He grinned excitedly. "You should have seen it! I was great! One of the THRUSH goons came in and thought I was out of it, so he started to take me down. Anyway, I came to life just as he finished letting me loose, threw him into the wall, and ran out. I put a rod in the handles so he couldn't get out and, well, you know the rest."

Saunders' communicator went off at that moment. He pulled it from his pocket and opened the channel. "Saunders here," he answered.

"Solo," came the dry reply. "Have you seen that idiot, Burke?"

Burke frowned. He didn't like the idea that Solo called him an idiot. That would change, though, once Napoleon heard about his heroic escape. "Burke here, Napoleon." He couldn't keep the pleasure in his own prowess from his voice. "You can come back. I escaped on my own." He snickered. "The THRUSH that cut me down didn't know what hit him. Now he's caught in his own trap."

Napoleon cleared his throat. "That was no THRUSH," he snarled with barely contained fury. "That was me. I was the one cutting you down."

"You?" Burke squeaked.

"Me."

"We'll be right there to help you," Burke babbled. "I know just where you're at."

"No, you won't." Napoleon snapped. "I want you two to return to the hotel and call in backup."

"But . . ." Burke protested.

"It's your inability to follow orders that got first you and now me into this mess in the first place!" Napoleon barked. "I suggest you start following them now or I swear when I get out I will kill you myself."

Burke swallowed, hearing a note of truth in Solo's voice. He also saw his chance of being Solo's new partner stuck behind the same door as Napoleon. Following orders to the letter this time was the only way to salvage the situation. "Yes, sir. We'll go back to the hotel and call for backup."

"You do that. In the meantime, I'll see if I can get out of this. Saunders, if Illya calls, inform him of what's happened."

"Yes, sir," replied Saunders.

There was a slight pause. "Sounds like someone's coming. Go get the cavalry. Now."

The communicator went dead. Saunders stared at it as though willing it to come back to life. When it remained mute, he closed it down and slipped it back into his pocket. "Let's get back to the hotel."

"We can't!" objected Burke. "No telling what might happen to Napoleon! We have to go get him!"

Finally having enough of Burke's impulsiveness, Saunders grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket. "He's in there because of your stupidity. You heard what he said. You need to start following orders. Now get your ass to the car and drive to the hotel while I call for reinforcements! Do not make me knock some sense into you!" Saunders was an easy man to get along with, and the fuse to light his temper burned slow. Once his ire ignited, however, he was a force to contend with.

Burke saw all that in his partner's eyes. He nodded realizing this was one time he'd better not screw up. "You're right. Let's go."

Saunders studied him for a minute and then let him go, leading the way to the car. Once they were on their way to the hotel, he reassembled his communicator.

"One moment, please," the girl in Communications said when he'd explained the situation. She transferred the call to the appropriate party.

"Slate here." The British accented voice came over Saunders' communicator as clearly as if he was standing right next to him.

"Mr. Slate, this is Grant Saunders. We have a situation here in Naples. Napoleon Solo has been captured by THRUSH, and we haven't heard from Mr. Kuryakin today. Mr. Solo ordered us to call for reinforcements."

"That's what we're here for, mate. We're assembling a strike team as we speak. We'll be there within the hour."

"Thank you," said Saunders. "What would you like for Mr. Burke and I to do in the meantime?"

"Just stay put for the moment. I'll call you when we need you."

"Yes, sir. Saunders out." He capped his pen and sat back in relief. "I'm sure they'll be able to get Solo out of there."

"While we sit on our thumbs," Burke grumbled.

"Shut up and drive."

Burke scowled but he shut up and drove.

Bianci called in Lorenzo the moment the Vicente bastard was gone. "Vicente is getting suspicious. He's ordered us to shut down our operations until he can check things out. We need to do something to bring him back into line."

Lorenzo's eyebrows shot up. "What tipped him off?"

Bianci grimaced. "I'm not sure how he found out, but he knows we've been lying on the invoices. He also knows about that thief you found sneaking around."

Lorenzo's lips pursed in annoyance. "It's that little bastard Angelo. It has to be. He and that Stephano kid both questioned some of the equipment in the lab, and he saw the man being dragged away."

Bianci nodded, his eyes unfocused while he considered the options. "Hmm. Yes. Angelo and Stephano. Maybe we can use the little troublemakers to our advantage."

"How?"

The satrap leader stroked his chin, feeling the stubble of the goatee he recently decided to grow. "Grab them and take them to the warehouse. When the ship arrives, load them into the cargo hold. If Vicente cares anything about his little catamites, he'll toe the line in order to keep them alive."

Lorenzo's forehead wrinkled in a frown. "We can't keep them indefinitely. Vicente acts meek and mild but believe me, that's a front. He doesn't suffer fools easily, and he has the security force to back him up. I think it could be a mistake to believe we can keep him doing our bidding for long. He'll either figure out a way to rescue his lover and the boy, or he'll eventually write them off as collateral damage. Either way, he'll only bow to us for so long before he reaches out and slaps us down."

"Do you take me for a fool?" Bianci snapped, eyes flashing. "I do not underestimate Vicente for a moment. He is a dangerous man. Snatching Angelo and the boy is just a temporary solution. Once we force Vicente into signing the vineyards and land over to us, we will kill them all and be done with them."

Lorenzo nodded although in the back of his mind, he wondered if he might be able to talk Bianci into letting him keep Angelo for himself. Not that he was a fag but after watching Vicente fuck the blond man, he'd been fantasizing about doing so himself. That didn't make him a fag. He wasn't about to let some man stick his dick down his throat or up his ass, after all. A real man could fuck a sheep and still be a real man. A hole was a hole and Angelo appeared to have a very tight one. Oh, yes. He would find a way to keep Angelo around. At least until he got bored with him.

Illya sat in the garden, still as one of the statues artfully arranged among the blossoms, waiting for Antonio to return. Hoping Antonio would return. The fact he had to force himself to appear calm disturbed him greatly. He always worried about the welfare of an innocent when he—or she, which seemed to be more common—got mixed up in their missions. But he usually felt it almost as a sideline. Complete the mission and hopefully keep the innocent from harm while doing it.

This time it was different. Right at this moment he didn't give a damn about the mission. Well, that wasn't quite true. He wanted to complete the mission successfully. That was the only way he could clear Antonio of any wrongdoing in the whole affair. Otherwise, this time the mission was the sideline. Keep Antonio safe, clear his name, and, oh, if he could stop THRUSH while he was at it, great.

Oh, no. Instead of his usual mild concern for the innocent, he was frantic for Antonio's safety. He didn't want to be sitting here, didn't want to be still. He wanted to move. To rush to the winery and kill Lorenzo and Bianci if they dared to try to harm the man whose bed he'd been sharing for the last few weeks.

Luckily Antonio arrived before Illya had to delve too deeply into the unfamiliar emotions roiling around inside him. He jumped up and hurried over to the car. He reached it just as Antonio opened the door to get out. "What happened?" He glanced over him anxiously to make sure he had no injuries.

Antonio smiled at him in surprised pleasure. "You were worried about me, Little One?"

Illya stared at him like a deer in the headlights. "I . . ." Illya glanced away, embarrassed by the fact that he wasn't acting at the moment. It wasn't Angelo checking Antonio over obsessively, but Illya. He forced himself back into the persona of Angelo, far too uncomfortable with the idea Illya could actually care that much about anyone. Napoleon, maybe, but that was different. This was different. He looked down, hiding from himself behind Angelo. He shrugged. "I don't trust them. I was afraid they might try to hurt you."

Antonio put a finger under his chin and tipped his face up so he could look at him. "I'm harder to hurt than you think. But, thank you. I don't think anyone has ever cared about me quite that much."

Illya blinked. He would not think about what that might mean. Not about Antonio, but about himself.

"Is dinner ready?" Antonio asked.

"I, uh, I'm not sure," Illya replied, thrown a bit by the sudden change of subject. "I don't think so."

"Let's go see, shall we?" He took Illya by the hand and led him to the kitchen. "Maria, how long until we eat?"

"About thirty minutes," Maria replied. "So you two, shoo!" She waved a threatening spoon at Illya. "Especially you, Angelo! You always steal little morsels from me. Today, you wait."

"Yes, ma'am," Illya answered meekly. She knew him too well. That, too, scared the hell out of him. The only reason he could come up with for all this—at least, the only reason he was willing to accept—was the risk of becoming the person one pretended to be in situations such as this. It had never happened so quickly to him before, but perhaps because he'd been Angelo before it was different. He needed to get this mission done and get out of here before he lost himself to Angelo completely.

"We have time, then," Antonio decided. He pulled Illya with him as he left. "Come, Angelo. There's something I want to show you." He led Illya to the office. "Sit down on the couch," he instructed as he locked the door behind them.

With a small, puzzled smile, Illya did as he was told. "What do you want to show me?"

Antonio settled beside him and turned to face him. "I want to show you how much I care about you, too." He leaned in and kissed him.

It was gentle, lacking the heat and hunger of a kiss borne of passion and desire. Yet there was no denying passion and desire were a part of it. And something more. Illya had never felt so wanted, so cared for. So he shied away from it.

In a desperate attempt to bring this back to a realm in which Illya was more comfortable and familiar, he tried to change the tone of the kiss to one of physical need, reaching for Antonio's belt at the same time.

Antonio pulled away and stopped Illya's hand before it got anywhere. "No. That is not what this is all about. I want to show you how to make love without touching below the neck. Make love, Angelo, not fuck."

"But . . ."

"Let me do this, Angelo. It's the best way I know how to give back to you what you have given to me."

Illya swallowed hard. He needed to put a stop to this. Why, then, did he find himself nodding in agreement?

Antonio smiled and moved in again. He took Illya's face between his hands and kissed him again and again. They were not pecks, not mere touching of the lips. Antonio's tongue slipped between Illya's lips but instead of devouring his mouth, Antonio tasted him. Instead of their tongues doing a battle of passion, they slow danced with a sensuality Illya had never experienced.

A part of him responded strongly, beating at the walls of its icy prison he'd built around it. He could feel the barriers breaking and his rational mind knew he should shore them up. The part trying to crack the ice said otherwise. It was tired of being ignored. It wanted out, and it wanted out now.

He had to get out of here. Soon. Now!

Oh, god, he never wanted to leave.

"Gather the boys. Round up as many of Vicente's old guards as you can and put them under lock and key. We'll deal with them later. Then bring them to the garden and meet me by the ruins. We will take them right after dinner when that whore comes out."

"What if he doesn't?" Lorenzo asked.

Bianci reached out and slapped the minion on the side of the head. "Don't make problems. Just do as I say."

Lorenzo rubbed his face not at all surprised by the outburst. "Okay. Got it."

The foreman checked his watch. "You have thirty minutes to get those men out of the way. Move now."

Lorenzo didn't waste time. He dashed out the gather their forces.

Alone in the office now, Bianci interlaced his fingers and an evil smile broke out on his face. He laughed lightly at the thought of getting rid of Antonio Vicente. Perhaps he could move into the fancy house himself once the big Italian was out of the way. Their plans for the winery and the mind control drugs would certainly make him rich enough. He could be almost as big as the head of THRUSH. Perhaps one day become the head of THRUSH himself.

He licked his lips at the wonderful thoughts running through his head and then reached down to a drawer. From within he pulled out a beautiful shiny revolver. Yes, he thought. I will put the bullet through that idiot Vicente's head myself.

Burke paced the room back and forth wringing his hands nervously.

"Will you please sit down!" Saunders yelled. "You're driving me insane!"

"I can't help it," Burke complained. "We should be rescuing Solo. Not sitting around here waiting for Slate to show up God only knows when."

"You know what. I might just slap you silly before Solo does if you keep this up. Get some perspective man," Sanders said shaking his head. "Finish this mission right and he just may forgive you."

That seemed to sink in. Burke stopped pacing and sat down.
"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. He'll thank me then."

Saunders rolled his eyes and settled for that. "Good. Now check over the equipment. We have to be ready to go when they get here."

Burke picked up the phone. "I'm going to order some food. They'll probably be hungry. You want anything?"

A slight sigh came from Saunders as he let out a breath. "Whatever. Why I put up with you, I'll never understand."

Illya's face was flushed and his brain muddled as he sat down to dinner. He was also hornier than he could remember. The kissing and mild petting between lovers who felt such emotion for each other was new and so utterly disarming. He didn't know how to handle the feelings.

Stephano looked at Angelo with a curious expression. He wondered if Angelo had been jogging or something like that. Antonio and Maria seemed oblivious to Angelo's strange look, but the boy noticed everything about everyone. "So what happened at the winery?" Stephano asked Antonio.

"Nothing for you to worry about," Antonio said wanting to ignore the subject at dinner. "I have taken care of things. They are clearing out as we eat."

"Clearing what out?" the youth asked. "Did they explain the invoices?"

Antonio put his fork down and leaned on the table looking directly at Stephano. His expression was kind but his presence was imposing. "I have given them one hour to leave before I have them thrown out. The rest will be taken care of tomorrow when I consider my other options. Now eat your dinner. Maria has put a lot of effort into your meal, so don't be rude. Eat up, boy."

"Yes, sir," Stephano replied. He turned to Maria. "Thank you. Maria. It is delicious." He began to eat again.

Illya was having trouble swallowing the lump of emotion in his throat along with the tasty food. He had never known a cook better than Maria though she had no formal training that he knew of. She once told him if one made food with love, it would always taste better than any fancy chef could come up with. In fact the love, warmth, and caring that filled this home was more than he'd known his entire life.

Illya took a deep steadying breath. I've got to get hold of myself. Clear my head. Napoleon. I have to think of Napoleon

To keep Stephano's mind off of the estate situation, Antonio turned the conversation to the boy's schooling. The very wealthy guardian wanted to know every detail about what was happening and how he was doing.

It was apparent that any lack of effort would not be tolerated, but Stephano was not going to waste his educational opportunities. He explained the things going on in his classes and the things he was learning that he found particularly interesting.

Antonio listened with a pleased expression. The boy was smart. Much smarter than his father ever realized. With a little tutoring to catch up in certain areas, the boy could enter an accelerated class and, once he settled on one field, prepare himself for an elite career.

As Illya listened, he thought back to his little brother he lost to the demons at Baba Yar all those years ago. Vanya was smart. Maybe even smarter than Illya for his age, but the chance to find out had been taken away from him by the monsters who tortured and killed the innocent people of Kiev. An overwhelming sadness rose up in his throat. He swallowed hard again. The bitter emotions were long buried. He wondered what brought them out now. The cap on his feeling was recently twisted loose. Is that why he could feel Vanya with him now? Is that why he missed him so much as he listened to Stephano talk? He didn't want to lose anyone ever again. Especially Antonio who, even though it was a bittersweet game, he'd fallen for... dreamed of... and craved to be with.

"Dessert?"

Illya looked up, his mental musings broken by Maria's sweet voice.

"You haven't finished your dinner. Are you saving room for dessert?" Maria asked him.

"Uh... No thank you Maria. It was delicious, but I'm just not very hungry tonight," the mild mannered Angelo replied. "I think I'll take a walk if you don't mind. I need a bit of fresh air."

Antonio glanced at Angelo. "Are you feeling all right?"

Illya smiled back. "Yes. I'm sure a bit of exercise will bring back my appetite. I'll have that dessert a little later if I may?" he said looking from Antonio back to the wonderful motherly woman.

She reached up and pinched his cheek. "Of course you may, darling," she replied and patted his butt shooing him on his way.

The last of the accessible old guards of Antonio's had been rounded up and disarmed. It took the overwhelming numbers in THRUSH's favor to do it though. The group were locked up in a small concrete cellar with barely enough space to allow them to sit on the floor. Bianci's thugs were now in almost total control of the estate.

In the ruins just beyond the garden, Bianci watched for Angelo as his men trotted up to join him.

Lorenzo sneered with pleasure at finally getting back into the physical brutality he loved so much as a minion when he first joined THRUSH. "Just the main gate and the monitoring room," he informed his boss. "We got everyone else."

"What about the trespasser you caught today?"

Lorenzo pointed over his shoulder as two men were taking the bound prisoner toward a waiting truck. He squinted as he saw the dark head of hair from a distance. He was sure the guy they caught had light sandy hair and different clothes. Before he could say that was a different person Bianci spoke up.

"Good. They have been told to lock him in the hold?"

"Uh... Yeah..."

Bianci was irritated with the vague answer. "Well what is it? Yes or no!"

"Yes. Yes. They have been told," Lorenzo answered more sure of himself now. The last thing he wanted was Bianci to be angry with him again.

"Boss, someone's coming," a minion with a rifle whispered to shush them all.

Bianci waved at his men to hide either side of the path among the ruins of the old Roman villa.

"Angelo," Stephano called out as he trotted along the path to catch up to the blond man. "Can I talk to you?"

Illya paused. He really wanted to be alone. To clear his head and formulate a plan but he had a connection with the boy and couldn't turn him away now. He gave a smile he surprised himself with being genuine. "Of course."

"Are you okay?" the boy asked, real concern written on his face.

"Fine," Illya lied. He was anything but fine. As a matter of fact, he would be more fine if he had a bullet in his gut than he was with the feelings roiling around inside of him. "Why do you ask?" Illya started slowly down the path once again. He needed to move or he thought he might jump out of his skin.

Stephano shrugged as he fell in beside him. "You seemed kind of flustered at dinner and you didn't eat very much."

Illya rolled his eyes. "Everyone else can not want to eat every once in awhile and no one says a word. Yet when I'm that way, everyone starts checking me for fever," he groused.

Stephano chuckled. "I haven't known you for long, but it seems like every time I see you you're eating."

Illya sighed, resigned once again to being foiled by the one thing he couldn't seem to change no matter how hard he tried. His over-active metabolism. "It's nothing."

"It's something or else you wouldn't be worried about it."

Illya stopped and turned to him, puzzlement creasing his brow. "What makes you think I'm worried about something?"

Stephano looked him square in the eyes. "It's obvious. At least to me."

The fact the boy could pick up on his concern over his feelings for Antonio made Illya more concerned about it. He didn't have a chance to try to redirect the young man's observations because of the barrel of a pistol that suddenly dug in behind his ear.

"Don't move, whore," Lorenzo's voice snarled into the other ear. "Or my trigger finger might just twitch a little too hard and mess up your pretty hair."

Illya froze. Did Lorenzo find out his connection to U.N.C.L.E.? He glanced at Stephano to see him in a similar situation. His automatic reaction was to try to salvage the situation by convincing them they were wrong in their assumptions. He anchored himself into the Angelo persona. "Wh-what's going on?" He put just the right amount of shakiness into his voice to portray a fear he didn't feel. Realistically he felt normal for the first time since he saw Antonio again.

His hands were yanked roughly behind him and secured with a pair of handcuffs. "That big oaf of a lover of yours tried to give us an ultimatum. We decided he needed to change his mind. You two are going to help us with that."

Illya practically sagged with relief. They didn't know who he really was. That made it even more important to keep up his Angelo impersonation. If they still believed him to be the meek, mild, and non-combative Angelo, they would be more lax in their security. He was relatively sure he would be able to get them out of this easily because of that. He tapped into the emotions he'd just been berating himself for letting out of their icy prison. Tears prickled his eyes. "Please don't hurt us! I'm sure Antonio will listen to reason if you promise to give us back unharmed."

Stephano stared at Angelo, his hero worship of the older man slipping somewhat. He liked Antonio's lover a lot, but Angelo was a bit of a wimp. Well, he wasn't and he decided he would not go quietly. "Let me go!" he yelled as he struggled to get free. Angelo calling his name was the last thing he heard before he felt a sharp blow to the back of his head and everything went black.

Burke snatched the door open the moment he heard the knock. He recognized the two people who sauntered inside. The slight man had sandy blond hair, stood about 5'10", and wore an absurd corduroy hat. He looked kind of stupid, and Burke was surprised the man could be an agent.

The woman was opposite in almost every way. The leggy beauty had gorgeous red hair spilling to her shoulders, and her dynamite body was clad in a fashionable mini-dress. Her hat was definitely not absurd. Burke's mouth fell open, but nothing intelligible came out.

April Dancer smirked at the young man's reaction. She was used to it, especially since she wore her sexuality for much the same reason Mark acted like a buffoon, Illya played up his small stature, and Napoleon pretended to think only with his crotch. To misdirect and misinform, so people would underestimate the abilities of the person in front of them.

Saunders had worked with the two before and had no stars in his eyes and, unlike Burke, wasn't blinded by their looks. "Miss Dancer, Mr. Slate. We're glad to see you."

Burke's mouth snapped shut as the words broke the spell. "Speak for yourself," he muttered as he closed the door behind the pair.

Mark turned and nailed him to the wall with a glare that negated the first impression of a goof-off. "Considering you managed to not only get yourself captured because you were doing something you weren't supposed to, then managed to capture Napoleon and leave him in your place, I should think you would be kissing our feet for coming here to bail your stupid arse out."

"Believe me," Saunders said, throwing a glare at Burke that told him in no uncertain terms to shut up. "We are very glad you came. Especially since they've moved Napoleon and we're not sure where."

"What happened?" April asked sharply.

Burke decided to set aside his irritation at everyone's impression that he and Saunders needed help with this. At least for now. At the moment, Solo's rescue took precedence to his own bruised ego. Later, though, he would be talking to Waverly about it. "Napoleon called us earlier and left his communicator open," he said, holding his own communications pen up. "A few minutes ago they came to get him. This is one of the newest communicators, so we were able to record it."

He pressed the pen button three times. The pen in his hand suddenly came to life. "Come on!" ordered a gruff voice in Italian.

"Where are we going?" asked Napoleon mildly.

Long pause. "Is it just me or does this guy look different than he did this morning?" said Gruff.

Another pause. "It has to be him," finally replied someone with a slight lisp. "Who else could it be?"

"Actually, you're right," said Napoleon in the same language. "I'm just a poor man. I was here to deliver some lumber when I heard someone yelling in this building. I come in to help and crazy person shoved me aside and ran out. I don't know who he was!"

A much longer pause this time. "What do we do?" Lisp finally asked.

"We take him," Gruff decided.

"But . . ."

"Look, if we show up with no one, we're going to have to answer to Lorenzo and Bianci You want that?"

"No!" Lisp squeaked.

"Sorry, signore, but you're not going to be home for dinner tonight."

Napoleon's protests started out loudly but were quickly muffled. The door creaked and closed once again. Silence.