Yes, yes, yes…!
Illya and Napoleon heard the exclamations and immediately jumped to a unified conclusion as they approached the apartment of Mark Slate.
"You first, you're most experienced with odd sexual situations." Illya smirked at his own comment.
"Very funny. This seems very unlike Mark. I mean, it's so…"
"Really Napoleon? You've not had women screaming at the top of their lungs during… whatever is going on in there? tsk tsk…" Illya clucked his tongue in a mocking manner, mostly to annoy his partner rather than actually make a point.
Napoleon knocked on the door with a good amount of sound, so as to get past what was going on inside. He didn't intend to give Mark the benefit of privacy, not since he had missed checking into London HQ this morning. If it was all about a woman…
The door opened to reveal a girl dressed in a short skirt, sweater and boots. GoGo Boots, a product of the Swinging 60's new dress code. London was swinging on that ethereal pendulum.
"Who are you?" The accent was cultured, if a bit immature. The girl looked to be about thirteen or fourteen… teenager age. Neither man was an expert in the matter.
Napoleon smiled at the girl, hoping to see past her into Mark's apartment.
"I am Napoleon Solo, a friend of Mark's. Is he here?" The girl looked past Napoleon and settled in on Illya. He was cute, and she was a girl who liked cute boys.
"My uncle Mark isn't feeling well, my mum's gone to get him something for it. Who are you?" She was looking at Illya, attempting to lure him into conversation.
"My name is Illya. May we come in and check on Mark?" She gauged their faces and body language without being aware of the importance of the latter. It was pure instinct, but she thought they seemed all right.
She opened the door a little wider to reveal a game board on the coffee table. That was the source of the noise earlier. Napoleon and Illya both apologized silently for what they had mistakenly thought was Mark and a woman in the throes of lovemaking.
"Mark? Is he in the bedroom?" Both men headed back to where they figured to find their friend, and he was indeed there. He was listless, probably dehydrated.
"Mark, what happened to you?" Napoleon was immediately concerned, thinking perhaps that Mark was a victim of a THRUSH attack. Illya was on the communicator to London HQ requesting medical help at Mark's apartment.
"Medical is on the way. Mark…' Illya bent down closer to get a look at Mark. He found it then, a small prick in Slate's neck.
"See this? He's been nicked by something, probably didn't even know it happened. The lab will need to analyze his blood and determine what this is." Napoleon nodded, his concern for the agent that of a man for his friend as well as co-worker.
Illya looked back into the living room where the girl was watching them through the open door. He walked back towards her, intending to find out how she and her mother had come to be here.
"You didn't tell us your name." He smiled at her, causing her heart to melt into a puddle. It almost impeded her ability to answer him.
"My… sigh… my name is Abigail. Uncle Mark called mum and asked her to get him something from the drugstore. He was sick. Is he still sick?" Uncle Mark was her favorite relative, and it suddenly occurred to her that he might actually be quite ill. Illya recognized the thought as it registered on her face.
"I'm sure your uncle will be fine, we've called for doctors to come and take a look. Where we work there is a very good hospital, and they're going to check him out. How long has your mum been gone?"
Now it hit Abigail that she had been waiting a good long while. The thought of something happening to her mother caused a lump in her throat. What was this really all about?
"Is she going to be in trouble? I don't know why it should take her so long to go for medicine." Abigail's eyes filled with tears, her instincts now telling her that something might be wrong, more than just Uncle Mark being ill.
Illya knelt down in front of her and put one hand on her shoulder.
"Abilgail, we won't let anything happen to you, or your uncle, or your mother. Okay?" She nodded her head and wrapped her arms around Illya's neck.. She was just a scared little girl now, and Illya's heart melted a little at the sound of her crying into his shoulder.
It was then that the door opened and Mark's sister Evelyn entered to find her daughter crying with her arms around a strange man.
"Abigail! Who are you? What are you doing here… with my daughter?" Illya stood up and stepped back slightly. Napoleon heard the exclamation and came into the room just as two medics from HQ entered the apartment with a gurney in tow.
Evelyn Slate Worthy stepped out of the way to let the medics pass, relieved that this was someone who knew Mark and not some random person.
"My apologies, you must be friends of Mark's. I didn't quite know what to think when I saw you…" She was looking at Illya, struck by the same wash of infatuation that had captured her daughter. Illya extended his hand to make introductions.
" I am Illya Kuryakin, and this is Napoleon Solo. We work with Mark, and as he had missed a meeting this morning were sent to fetch him. We have medical personnel here from our offices to treat him for this … He's in good hands." Evelyn and Abigail were enchanted by the blond, something that made Napoleon wince slightly as he always did when overlooked in favor of his partner.
"Well, thank you for looking out for Mark. He called in such terrible shape, but he didn't want to go to hospital. I went to the pharmacy to try and figure out something that might help. You had obviously done the best here, I… well, again, thank you." She loved her brother, and had guessed that he was somehow employed in a government sort of job. It was all very hush-hush, but obviously these two men were also in the same sort of business.
Napoleon and Illya took their leave of Evelyn and Abigail, promising to give them an update as soon as Mark had been treated for this mystery ailment. Evelyn, who had been widowed two years earlier when her husband died in a car crash, watched the two men leave and wondered, just briefly, if Illya Kuryakin were single.
Mark was treated for a THRUSH drug, easily identified from among the many samples kept in the labs of all UNCLE facilities. Obviously, a THRUSH who was familiar with Mark had seen him and managed to get the drug into his system by way of a dart or some other small appliance. It would be hours later before Mark regained his memory of a young woman who had asked for directions to Saville Row. She was American, and he had been surprised when, after pointing her in the right direction, she reached up and pulled his face own to kiss him on the cheek. That had been the point of contact.
Napoleon and Illya spent part of the day trying to figure out who the woman might be, and why she had targeted Mark. Evelyn spent the rest of the day wondering about Illya.