Chapter Ten: Outcomes

Disclaimer: I do not own Illya, Napoleon or any part of the UNCLE universe: I just borrowed them for a bit.

He awoke late morning in Medical to see Mr. Waverly and Illya staring down at him.

"I brought you grapes," Illya said. "But I'm afraid you took so long to come round, we ate them."

"You…I…"

Illya filled in the gaps. "You've had the bullet removed. It nicked the femoral artery. You could have bled to death."

Napoleon digested the information and looked up at his partner. "What was the good news?"

"Lander didn't cut the tendons."

A grin broke out on Napoleon' face. "You're okay? How did they find out?"

"There were abnormalities with the blood tests and when Dr. Thornton checked, the only conclusion he could come to was that Lander implanted slow release paralysis capsules in my fingers to keep them immobile."

Mr. Waverly continued the story. "Analyzing the traces found in the syringe at the clinic, we established that Miss Merrick then used a powerful auto-suggestion drug to make Mr. Kuryakin believe they had carried out the operation. Tonight they were going to 'reverse' it. In actual fact, the paralysis was due to wear off anyway."

"That's why they were stalling," Illya supplied.

Napoleon lay back on his pillow, putting together the pieces of information. "So Carlotta gets assistance from Thrush because she wants revenge on Illya and they agree because she's their link to Lander."

"She exaggerates Lander's skill and then finds that time has run out. They want a demonstration. That's when they kidnapped me."

"You weren't supposed to leave the clinic. Barrett was supposed to witness the 'miracle' there"

"Your rescue was unexpected," Illya agreed. "But it gave Carlotta and Lander an excellent opportunity to demonstrate the supposed power of the technique. It got both of us to that apartment."

"And now…?" The question tailed off.

In answer, Illya held up his hands, the pattern of burns still livid on his pale skin, and slowly flexed his fingers. "It looks like I will be playing the piano again."

He returned Napoleon's direct gaze with a steady look of his own, a wealth of unspoken words flowing between the two agents and friends.

"It's good to have you back, Mr. Kuryakin," Waverly said and Napoleon nodded agreement. It had been a close thing this time.

"Well, we've got Barrett. That's one result—" Napoleon stopped when he saw the other two exchange meaningful glances. "What is it?"

Waverly cleared his throat. "Mr. Barrett and his two associates were escorted down in the lift by agents Pinner, Doyle, Warrington and Lee. We found the lift stopped at the second floor with the bodies of the agents inside together with the corpse of one of the Thrush operatives."

"Johnson," Illya supplied.

"Pinner? Lee?" The disbelief was written large over Napoleon's features. "All four of them?"

Mr. Waverly nodded. "A shocking waste of young life."

Napoleon was still reeling with the news about the deaths. "I ate lunch with Warrington the day before yesterday. We were talking about cars… And next Monday was Pinner's birthday…"

Illya was silent. He felt just as keenly the loss of his colleagues.

"How did it happen?"

"They're not sure," Illya said. "It looks like Johnson jumped one of them and took his gun…sacrificed himself to give the other two a chance."

"That means Barrett's still out there…"

The three of them pondered this in somber silence.

"We'll find him," Napoleon said bleakly and Illya nodded. It was more of an oath than a promise.

"I'm counting on it." Mr. Waverly checked his watch. "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, Mr. and Mrs. Doyle's plane should just have touched down. Get better quickly, Mr. Solo. U.N.C.L.E. needs Mr. Kuryakin and yourself in peak condition." He turned on his heel and left.

"At least we'll be finding him together." Napoleon studied his partner. "I wish I'd been there when the drug wore off."

Illya gave a slight smile. "It was about half an hour after we left the flat. It was…" he paused remembering the inner relief and joy at being able to move his fingers once more, "a remarkable experience."

"I'm glad you're back, partner. Has the Old Man sent you out on assignment yet?"

"Mmm. Tonight, in fact. I've got to pick up my tuxedo."

"Formal dress?"

"Charity ball."

"I see. And—er…?" Napoleon nodded towards Illya's burns.

"Gloves, of course."

"Of course."

Illya waited. He knew curiosity was high up on the list of Napoleon's weaknesses.

"So is it a courier run? Protection? Intelligence gathering?"

"I'm meeting someone. Someone who likes to dance."

Napoleon looked at him sharply. "Not by any chance someone who also enjoys archery and classical music?"

A beatific grin spread across Illya's face. "And horse-riding and ice-skating," he quoted. "I'll let you know how I get on."

Napoleon watched him leave with a soupcon of jealousy. He was comforted a moment later by the recollection of page two of the Countess' hobbies: let Illya have fun with the water-skiing and the fire-eating. Not to mention the lion-taming.

He drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face and a vision of Illya balancing on one water-ski while juggling a fire-breathing lion.