Napoleon Solo felt as low as he possibly ever had in his adult life; his foolishness, and lack of control had finally caught up with him and now his actions threatened to destroy not only his partnership, his friendship but possibly Illya's marriage to Elliott.

He would be damned if he was going to let any of that happen, but in his heart of hearts he knew that it was out of his hands. He sat there alone for a long time, remaining in the office trying to come up with a strategy to salvage everything. "Strategy was what he was good at wasn't he?" First and foremost, had to convince Illya that he still had his undying loyalty and friendship and then prove that Elliott loved him and only him.

He never got to tell the Russian that Elliott had turned down the marriage proposal instantly, and as to their indiscretion; that would forever be etched in his mind as a one of the stupidest mistakes he had made in his entire life. Napoleon saw no way to eradicate that at all and would just have to hope that he could regain Illya's trust. That he knew was going to take one huge feat of magic to make happen.

Elliott was always Illya's and would be forever, well he hoped she would still be; not knowing her state of mind and still wondering why the hell she had to tell her husband now, doing it in such a hurtful way.

"She couldn't have really meant those things she said to Illya could she?" he asked himself silently.

Napoleon knew he had to try to talk to him one more time, at least let him know about Ellie. He had to re-affim his promise to him perhaps more so, that he would find Demya ...he owed at least that much to Illya and to Elliott as well. But he realized now was not the time; the wounds and the pain were too fresh and Illya was too drunk.

Yet he had to manage this conversation before Illya put in for his change in partnership; the the Old Man would want a reasonable explanation for it.

Waverly wouldn't break up his number one team just because Illya was requesting it. And he doubted that Illya would tell the real reason behind his demand, as the man was too proud and private still to do that. Even if he cited that they could no longer work together; Waverly would tell him to tough it out and get over it...that he knew he could rely on the boss to do.

Unless Illya told him the truth, which he doubted; then the wily Russian would have to do some spectacular song and dance routine to convince Waverly. That, Napoleon suddenly smiled to himself, was highly unlikely; the Russian as clever as he was, wouldn't be able to put one over on the Old Man as he wasn't born yesterday.

He had to get to Illya to make him see the error in judgement he was about to make. "Hell, error in judgement? Who was he kidding?" Napoleon thought," it was more like getting Illya to flat out forgive him. How was he going to do that?"

He rubbed his forehead as he was now feeling the beginnings of one powerful headache as his thoughts darted back and forth between what he thought were successful ideas and conclusions; giving him feelings of hope, and then realizing that some of them were just sheer idiocy, causing him to sink into feelings of despondency.

"Let's face it Solo, you fucked up royally this time?"

He hoped that for once his supposed Solo luck would hold out for him at least one more time to salvage what he could.

.

Illya Kuryakin woke up hours later face down on the bed in guest quarters; the quilt damp with his own drool. His head was pounding and his mouth felt as though it had been invaded by some sort of swamp creature..

"Last time you keep a fucking cheap brand of vodka in your desk. Durák," he thought, calling himself and idiot.

He raised himself up slowly, regretting it instantly as his head protested the slightest movement. At least he didn't feel the need to be sick, no self-respecting Russian would get sick from vodka, even shit vodka at that.

The alcohol was still coursing through his system as he staggered to the bathroom; turning on the cold water faucet full blast in the shower. He pulled off his shoes then then his jacket and tie, then not having the will to go farther, he mumbled " What the hell."

Illya stepped under the water still dressed in the remainder of his clothes, letting it run over his head, soaking him to the skin.

"Chyort voz'mí_ dammit!" he said, releasing his anger as he slammed his hand against the shower wall. "Chyortov durák_fucking fool." How could he have been so blind? How did he miss it? His Elliott and Napoleon?"

Illya lowered himself to the shower floor, just sitting there. Feeling more numb now than anything. His son was missing, his wife slept with his best friend and she basically told him he was worthless. He no longer had a partner, though he wasn't done with Napoleon yet. There would be a reckoning to be had.

"NO, not just yet." he said out loud as he redirected his anger. Demya had to be the focus of attention and nothing more. That had to remain first and foremost in his mind. He supposed now there would be more than one score to settle after Smythe had been dealt with?

For the next few days Solo and Kuryakin were avoiding each other like the plague and everyone at headquarters could see it. It wasn't the first time the partners had been angry with one another, and given the circumstances with Illya's son, no one seem to want to try to find out what the rift between the two was about.

Even Waverly seemed unconcerned about it as he became aware of the tension between his two agents. He chalked it up to the frustrations of the unsolved disappearance of young Demya. The two men were not assigned to working together in the field as Kuryakin was still mandated to work at headquarters, so for the moment Alexander Waverly saw no need to address their latent hostility; these things had a way of working themselves out as they had in the past.

Solo and Kuryakin though friends were also at times rivals and both had competitive natures, and for that reason there were bound to be times of friction between the two men. He had seen that happen many times over the years and saw no need to mention it. Solo was out in the field searching for Kuryakin's son, and Kuryakin felt resentment, it was as simple as that. This was Waverly's take on it.

It was a situation that called for a measure of restraint, as he knew the young Russian well enough; he was generally prone to look before he leaped and that would be just the thing to get the younger Kuryakin killed. He also knew that it was tearing at his agent not to be in the midst of the fray, searching for his son, but at the moment, keeping Kuryakin reigned in was safest course of action to take.

Though Waverly realized he could only keep Illya Kuryakin out of the mix for so long before his fatherly instincts got to him and then of course there was the unpredictability of Elliott Kuryakin to contend with.

Her pregnancy and emotional state at least kept her at a distance for the moment, but even that could only prevent her from becoming involved for so long. To keep a mother lioness from finding and protecting a lost cub would be a hard thing to stop once she had finally made up mind to do something about it. Elliott Kuryakin was generally not one to be made to sit on the sidelines.

Alexander Waverly was aware that he had two ticking time-bombs waiting to go off, and only hoped that Solo would come through; finding the boy before those explosions occurred.

A reasonable amount of time had passed since the altercation with his partner as Napoleon flicked the intercom switch as he sat again in their office that he still shared with Illya, though now he hadn't seen hide nor hair of the Russian in days.

"Security here."

"Yes can you tell me if Mr. Kuryakin is still in the building?"

There was a slight pause. "Yes Mr. Solo, he's currently in guest quarters, room number three."

"And how long has Mr. Kuryakin been staying in guest quarters?"

"Five days sir."

"Thank you," he said, turning off the intercom, thinking that news was not good. Illya wasn't going home to Elliott and Napoleon had to do something about that. He went up to guest quarters to at least to try to talk to Illya. It was time.

He knocked on the door, using their code to let the Russian know it was him, when there was no response; he tried the knob, finding it unlocked.

He opened the door slowly, peeking his head inside. Illya was laying on the bed, dressed in rumpled clothes that he look like he'd worn for a few days. The smell of alcohol and body odor filled them room and Napoleon crinkled his nose in disgust; not that this was the first time he'd encountered the Russian not quite smelling like a bed of roses.

"Illya?" he said walking over to him. His eyes were half open, and now Solo could smell that he was still reeking of booze."Ah Christ, what the hell are you doing to yourself?"

He grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him from the bed, as he was being completely unresponsive, dragging his ass into the bathroom."Come on Stinky, let's go, into the shower with you!"

Napoleon turned the shower on full blast, shoving Illya under the water until the man began to sputter, struggling half heartily to bring himself to some sort of awareness.

"Leave me the fuck alone," he muttered," have you not done enough to me already?" he then hicupped.

"You need to snap out of this tovarisch?"

"Told you not to call me that." Illya mumbled.

"I don't give a shit what you told me. You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself and go home to your wife...Illya, Elliott loves you, she always has and right now she needs you. Hell you both need each other, you should to be together in this. You've got a baby girl on the way who'll need her father. Do you want Demmy to come back to a broken home, where there shouldn't be one?

Illya pulled free of Napoleon's grip. "And who's fault is that?"

"Look this is not the time for a blame game, you and I will talk that out once we get your son home alright? In the mean time you need to go to Elliott. Illya she needs you."

"She does not want me and she blames me for this. She told me it was my fault for not killing Smythe and thinks I do not care. Does that sound like she needs or wants me? I am worthless to her, thanks to you."

"Illya that's a crock of shit and you know it. Now you need to get yourself cleaned up, go home and prove otherwise to her. You still love her don't you?"

"Yes I do."

"Then you get your lily-white Russian ass home and let her know that. She doesn't love me and she never did. I didn't get to tell you that when I proposed to her, thinking that your weren't going to live, that she laughed at me, turned me down flat out. She thanked me for being chivalrous, but not for one second did she even consider it. She was yours then and still is."

He looked at Napoleon with his bloodshot eyes, seeing the sincerity in the man's face. "Illya, I fucked up and I'm sorry. but don't let my mistake cause you to make an even bigger one. You need to find your balls and let Elliott know you're not going to give up on her or your marriage."

"We'll get Demmy from that sick bastard and you'll have your family back. That is the most important thing of all, you being together as a family. Everything you've been though, all the pain and suffering that you've felt this past year never kept you from loving her, even when you thought you had to give up being with her because of what that nut-case Terry Tramell did to you?"*

"She thought you didn't want her and she lashed out at you for it. And now she's doing it again, she's stressed, her hormones are raging and she's beating on the one person she loves more than anyone, except maybe for your son. Hey there's that old saying...you only hurt the ones you love?"

Napoleon reached out, putting his hand on Illya's shoulder. "Look, if you don't ever forgive me, I'll understand but don't not forgive her. She still loves you. I know it. Go to her, go home. Don't wait until it's too late? Please?"

He watched as Illya straightened himself up, his demeanor changing to one of confidence.

"Irregardless of my feelings towards you at the moment; when you are right Napoleon, you are right." Illya hesitated." Was any of it real between you and I after you and Elliott...?"

Solo winced at that, knowing Illya was still not forgiving him, but at least he was listening to him.

"I swear to you that I have always had your back and I always will. I've never stopped being your friend, granted I was a poor one, for what I did, but I..." Napoleon stopped himself, knowing he had said enough."look, I'll get a change of clothes from your locker for you and have Tillie send up some nice strong black coffee and food. You get yourself cleaned and sobered up and then go home?Okay?"

Illya took a deep breath gathering himself; nodding silently as he watched his partner leave.

* ref. "The Enemy from Within Affair"