Chapter 2 is here! Thanks for the reviews on chapter 1 :)

A few days later, in a cottage in Dartmoor, Gaby's p.o.v.

Gaby sighed and looked up from the transcript of Marshall's report she had been reading, she stretched her legs and adjusted her position on the couch. Blake was sitting in front of her on an armchair, reading a file and occasionally jotting down a few notes. For the past few days the two of them had been going over Marshall's reports again and again, dissecting them in order to gather any tiny bits of information that could help the investigation. Blake was currently working on a short list of names mentioned in one of the reports. Gaby was just about to resume her reading when she heard someone coughing outside. That meant Illya was back. Blake also looked up as he heard the coughing and gave her a knowing smile. They heard the sound of the door being closed a little too forcefully, and more coughing, inside this time.

"You're sure you don't want me to examine you, Kuryakin? It won't take long."

"I'm fine."

Gaby set her file down on the couch and turned to look at him as he walked into the room. Of course he didn't look fine, his face had an unhealthy hue, the skin around his nose was red and chafed. He also looked pissed off, but that was a regular occurrence even when he was healthy. She could hear his noisy breathing, obviously caused by a clogged nose. How could he possibly hope to fool anyone.

"I think you should let agent Blake examine you. He was a military doctor after all. "

"We don't have time for this. Cowb…Solo will be back soon."

"Illya…"

"She's right you know, Peril."

Gaby almost jumped at the sound of Napoleon's voice behind her. She hadn't heard him come in.

"No offense, but you look like death warmed up.", Napoleon went on. "Funny you're the one who got sick, one would think your Russian genes would immunize you against such common illnesses."

He ignored Illya's glare, grinned at Gaby and turned toward Blake.

"How long would it take to give him a checkup?"

"Ten, fifteen minutes at most.", Blake answered, an amused smile playing on his lips.

"Perfect, just enough time for me to get changed and fix us a drink. Then I will fill you in on what happened tonight."

"We need to concentrate on the mission.", Illya muttered, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket.

"You're right, Peril. The mission is our priority and I won't let you jeopardize it with sniffles. Besides, you're supposed to have my back. What if someone blows my brains out while you're blowing your nose? Sorry Peril, but there will be no mission debrief until you let Blake examine you."

Gaby watched as the discussion went on for a few more minutes. Then, finally, as he understood that his partners wouldn't leave him alone until he complied, Illya reluctantly agreed to let agent Blake examine him. Their new partner left the room and came back with a medical bag from which he pulled out a stethoscope and other instruments. Gaby vacated the couch and settled into one of the armchairs. As Blake made Illya take his shirt off and sit down on the couch, she couldn't suppress a fond smile; the big Russian looked like a sulking little boy.

"It might feel a bit cold.", Blake said as he placed the stethoscope against his patient's chest. Illya rolled his eyes but Gaby saw him flinch ever so slightly when the cold disc touched his bare skin. She observed as the CIA agent listened to Illya's heart and lungs, took his blood pressure, checked his throat and ears and palpated his neck. Blake's gestures were precise, efficient, but also extremely gentle. She smiled. Her stubborn partner was obviously in good hands. Blake asked Illya a couple of questions, then he slipped a thermometer into his mouth and waited for a few minutes before he took it out and inspected it.

"Rhinopharyngitis, with moderate fever.", he finally announced as he handed Illya's shirt back to him.

"Congratulations, Peril. You officially have a cold."

That was Napoleon, emerging from the kitchen with the drinks. Gaby accepted the glass he was holding out and returned her attention to Illya and Blake.

"How long will it take for him to get better?"

"It will probably run its course in about a week. In the meantime I can give him something to relieve the symptoms."

Blake went to the kitchen, brought back a glass of water, then reached into his bag and pulled out what Gaby recognized as an aspirin powder packet. He mixed the contents of the packet with the water and handed the glass to Illya.

"Here you go", he said with a gentle smile. "Drink this, all of it. Then I suggest you go lie down for a while and wait for the medicine to take effect. It shouldn't be too long before you start feeling better."

Illya looked mortified. He eyed the glass suspiciously for a few seconds. Then he looked up and seemed to notice that everyone was staring at him. He finally took the glass and downed its contents in one gulp, grimacing at the bitter taste.

"I'll give you some more in a few hours. Taking this regularly should keep your fever down.", Blake said, taking the glass out of his hand.

Illya thanked him curtly, stood up and headed for his room. A few seconds of silence passed, then…

"Want me to come tuck you in, Peril?"

Gaby chuckled and shook her head.

You just can't help yourself, can you…

Illya's p.o.v.

Illya cursed under his breath as he heard Solo's voice through the door. He briefly considered making a trip to the bathroom to cough on Cowboy's toothbrush. Instead, he let out an exasperated sigh and started untying his shoes. Even though he would never have admitted it in front of his partners, he actually felt grateful. He had been feeling increasingly unwell for the last two days and the prospect of just lying down in the dark for a moment suddenly seemed particularly appealing. He opened his suitcase and selected a clean handkerchief. He tried to blow his congested nose, in vain. Blake probably knew a way to ease nasal congestion. He switched off the light and plopped onto the bed, fully clothed. He would never ask the American for help. He listened to his own noisy breathing for a while. Or maybe he would…later. He closed his eyes. He was already starting to feel better.

Half an hour later, Solo's p.o.v.

"Feeling any better, Peril?"

Illya nodded and sat down on the couch, next to Gaby. He definitely looked better, more alert, and slightly less grumpy.

Good job, Blake…

"Since everyone's here, I think we can finally start tonight's mission debrief."

It had been decided that Napoleon would be the one to infiltrate the secret society. Consequently, he had been provided with a cover by the CIA – with a little help from Waverly. Since their arrival in Devon, he had been posing as Trevor Carlyle, a rich English businessman from Leeds, looking to buy property in the region. They had rented a different cottage for him just outside the village, which he used to maintain his cover. For the past few days, he had been taking long walks on the moor, but also, and more importantly, roaming around town, spending time at the only pub and talking to the locals. The idea was to spot a potential "weak link", a member of the secret society who would be more easily approachable than the others. Napoleon had rapidly isolated one potential candidate and, little by little, he had managed to get close to the man. It was with this man that Napoleon, or rather Trevor Carlyle, had met earlier that evening to tell him about his desire to join the secret society.

"How did he react when you mentioned the society?"

"Oh, he was very surprised, and not particularly happy. I think he felt betrayed at first, but I managed to win him over with my…hum…boundless enthusiasm. Needless to say he's not the sharpest tool in the shed. Anyway, although he made it clear that he couldn't introduce me to the "higher members" himself, he said he would put in a good word for me. Hopefully, this will grab the attention of the people who made Marshall disappear."

"Did he mention Marshall at all?", Blake asked, concern evident in his tone.

"He didn't, no one did. A few townspeople even mentioned that they rarely saw new faces in town and that they hadn't had visitors in a long time. It's as if Marshall had never been here. Come to think of it, it's extremely unsettling because they do seem to be charming people, until you realize that they're all covering up Marshall's murd…suspicious disappearance."

He shot a guilty glance at Gaby. Apparently eager to change the subject, she turned to Illya. The Russian had remained silent the whole time, he already knew most of what Napoleon had to say since he had been following him around and listening in all evening thanks to both a tracking device and a listening device hidden inside Napoleon's watch.

"So, I've been meaning to ask you.", Gaby said. "What's his British accent like?"

"Almost as annoying as the American one.", Illya answered with a smirk.

"By that he means that it's absolutely flawless. You're just jealous, Peril, because you can't get rid of your stubborn Russian accent."

"I don't need to get rid of it, Russian accent is something to be proud of."

"You keep telling yourself that. To get back on topic, I have another meeting scheduled with my new 'mate' tomorrow night. Hopefully, I'll get a chance to meet the people in charge of the organization. Then I'll just have to put on my best charming smile, remember to stick to the non-rhotic variety of English and convince them to let me become a member of their private little club. Best case scenario, they let me in, worst case scenario, they try to get rid of me and we'll finally know what happened to Marshall."

Piece of cake, what could possibly go wrong?...

End of chapter 2 :)