Part XII

A doctor was waiting when the plane touched down and, after a quick examination, he gave Napoleon a shot to help with the pain while he was transferred to the medical unit. That was the last he knew until he woke up in a hospital bed. Glancing around groggily, he noted there was sunshine coming through the window. He also spotted his partner curled on the room's other bed napping. The dark wig was pooled on the side table like a large, very relaxed cat.

There was a tap at the door, but it was obviously more of a 'heads up' than a request as the door was opening before any response could be made. Mister Waverly took in the scene quietly, looking a touch bemused at the remainder of Illyana's disguise. His entrance already had her stirring, but she started awake and quickly sat up when it registered with her just who it was that had entered the room.

"Good morning. I must say that the two of you can complicate the simplest missions. The good news is that in dismantling the Casablanca outpost, we discovered the locations of four other small posts we were previously unaware of. Commendable outcome. And to partially reward your efforts, I've brought you a present from the labs, Miss Kuryakin. They tell me a liberal application of this substance in conjunction with a hot shower will restore you to your normal coloration in no time. No reason you can't make use of this room' shower for that purpose. I've already contacted Miss Dancer and she should be arriving shortly with a change of clothing for you as well."

Illyana neatly caught the small container he tossed to her.

"Thank you, sir. I very much appreciate it."

"Not at all, not at all."

Mister Waverly seemed uncharacteristically cheerful, enough so that the partners exchanged glances. Napoleon cleared his throat slightly.

"Did anything else of interest turn up at the outpost, sir?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, Mister Solo. Questioning the agents captured has revealed at least part of the reason for this period of relative quiet. Apparently several of the upper echelon of T.H.R.U.S.H. have been struck by some sort of mysterious malady. So we can't expect this to last for much longer. They'll have sorted out who will be taking over soon enough, I'm sure. On another note, we have finally tracked down decisively the identity of the traitor in our ranks. The agent was a former Section Two who experienced a bit of a breakdown. We had removed him from the field and transferred him to Section Six. His supervisor and doctor were each of the opinion that he was adjusting well, but apparently he had fixed it in his mind that Mister Kuryakin was the one responsible for all of his woes. Our mystery doctor somehow learned of this and exploited it to her own advantage."

"In other news, Mister Solo, the doctors tell me that you are as well as can be expected after your injury and they will quite likely release you to light duty in two or three days. One thing they have prescribed for you is rest, so I will leave you to return to your nap and you to go your shower. I'll check back in on both of you later."

"Yes sir. Thank you, sir."

Napoleon leaned back against his pillow and closed his eyes, listening as Illyana got ready to hit the shower. Next thing he knew, April's voice startled him. He hadn't realized he'd dozed off. Couldn't have been for too long though. The shower could still be heard, though it shut off after just another minute.

"Sorry, Napoleon – didn't mean to make you jump. I was just dropping off some clothes. Well, I was checking up on you as well, of course. What happened?"

"The courier was quick on the trigger. Fortunately, he apparently would have had trouble hitting the broad side of a barn. As close as I was, I don't see how he missed hitting anything important."

"Or he was a very good shot and missing the vitals was deliberate. Are those for me?"

That voice came from the bathroom door as Illyana stepped out in a robe, extremely pink skinned, gesturing to the bundle April was holding. April nodded and moved to hand the clothes over at which time Illyana disappeared back into the bathroom.

Napoleon was looking thoughtful as April moved over to the chair and picked up part of the peacock blue costume to study it closer.

"You know, I hadn't even considered that my survival might have been more than a happy accident. Shame we'll never really know."

"Why not? Isn't the courier talking?"

The answer to that came from behind April.

"Not unless we engage the services of a spiritualist. He was killed by T.H.R.U.S.H. almost immediately after Napoleon's shooting. And thank you, April. This is much better."

"You're welcome, but I don't know that it's an improvement. This color is absolutely luscious."

"Take it then. I doubt I will have another opportunity to wear it. Have you heard from Mark? "

"Oh yes. He seems to be having a grand time. Even sent me a picture from Coney Island yesterday. Hang on, I have it here."

Napoleon was half-dozing again, mentally cursing at the medication in his system that was keeping him sleepy. Illyana had moved to his bedside and her left hand was resting on the bedrail as April brought the picture over. The creaking noise got his attention and Napoleon frowned at the sight of the white knuckled grip on the rail.

April hadn't noticed the grip, but she did notice the sudden pallor that Illyana's skin tone took and moved over, retaking the photo with one hand while laying the other hand on the pale arm.

"Are you alright?"

"Oh yes, yes. Fine. I .. I just need to go grab something to eat, I suppose. I am famished. Napoleon, I will be back later. Do you need me to bring back anything?"

"An attractive nurse that does massages would be nice."

The tone was flippant, but Napoleon's eyes were serious. His partner was avoiding eye contact. Not a good sign. Especially when Illyana made a quick exit, but what had triggered it? His eyes settled on the photo still in April's hand.

"Can I see that?"

"Hmm? Oh, of course."

It proved to be your typical Coney Island image – a couple posed with the Double Sky Wheel visible in the background. Napoleon blinked to clear his vision, again mentally cursing that the medicine in his veins was making close focusing difficult. Then he took a sharp breath.

"April. Go after Yana."

"What? Why? What's wrong?"

Napoleon turned the picture around.

"That woman with Mark? Add a red curly wig and you've got our mad doctor."