"Mr. Solo?" a voice spoke to him over the intercom, interrupting his focus, "We need you upstairs at the agent's entrance."

He hit the switch; annoyed at the disruption, as he disliked anyone disturbing him when he was conducting an interrogation.

Just then klaxons sounded as the alarm for headquarters activated.

"On my way," he said cooly as he left Anderson to think things over.

His Walther was drawn as soon as he stepped into the corridor, heading at a run toward the elevator then out again on the main level navigating the corridors under the flashing lights as the alarm continued to blare. He quickly navigated amidst other agents scurrying to their assigned emegency posts.

He arrived at the reception desk finding Heather, her weapon drawn, looking along with several section IV agents at the screen for the security camera covering the outside of Del Florias.

"What's going on?"

They stepped aside giving him room to look at the image. It was dark, making it difficult to see exactly what it was.

"Sir, a car just sped up, screeched to a hault. Someone wearing a mask dragged that over to the steps and threw it down." The agent pointed to a dark mass as the foot of the stairs.

"Zoom in on it." Napoleon said. He turned a dial on the communicatios panel. "Solo here, security over ride, turn that damn alarm off now please."

"It looks like a body. See that, looks...like a head with blond hair," he spoke apprehensively as he pointed to the screen; knowing that Solo's blond-headed partner was missing.

Napoleon pressed the release button; opening the dressing room door, stepping out into the shop and cautioning Del to get inside to reception. Then as he opened the front door; the familiar tinkling of the brass bell came to life.

He knelt down in the stairwell, cautiously rolling over the still form. It was Illya. He checked for a pulse; he was alive but unconscious.

A team from medical arrived, hurrying the Russian away on a stretcher as his parter followed. He pulled his communicator, contacting the Old Man to inform him of the good but troubling news.

"Good news, yes Mr. Solo. However, it remains to be seen what has happened to Mr. Kuryakin. Let me know as soon as he regains consciousness?"

Napoleon sat near the nurses station; getting up again for the fifth time, pacing impatiently, feeling sick to his stomach. Then he felt hot as he broke out into a sweat, his skin felt prickly and he swore he was starting to itch.

"Napoleon, if you don't stop it, I'm going to ask Dr. Schneider to put you in a room yourself," Nurse Walsh warned, "You'd think you'd be used to this by now? My God, how many times have I watched you waiting for word on that partner of yours. He gets hurt an awful lot, you know I think he holds the record for stays in this place?"

Napolon replied with a sour look. He would never get used to this. The day he did, would mean it was the day he no longer cared...not that Nurse Walsh didn't care, but the medical personnel had a way of disconnecting themselves, cocooning their emotions from the pain and suffering they saw on a regular basis. He'd seen that ability in his Bella, but was glad when she chose to let her guard down and make the connection with him; opening the door to love for both of them.

But unlike Bella, the injuries that the staff handled here were not just broken arms and legs; gunshot wounds were the norm, they dealt with injuries that were the result of torture and inhuman cruelty.

Keeping their distance emotionally was their coping mechanism, just as waiting by his partners bedside was his.

"Why it was taking so damned long for him to be permitted in the room to sit is vigil?" He felt for a moment that if he weren't there; then Illya couldn't wake. He looked at his surrounding, the walls, the floor, the nurses desk. It was all grey, sterile grey. Why did it always have to be that color?

Dr. Schneider emerged from Kuryakin's room looking very tired, as he headed straight to Napoleon; who feeling equally as drained looked up with hope in his dark brown eyes.

"Still unconscious," Max shook his head. "I can't find obvious sign of trauma, but his arms are covered in needle marks so I've sent blood samples to the lab to be analyzed. Hopefully we can figure out what was pumped into him? And something else, he has a tattoo on his right forearm, a series of letters and numbers in blue ink."

"No Doc he's had that. He preferred keeping it hidden."

"I've never seen it before? Is it my imagination or does it looks like a concentration camp tattoo?"

The look in Napoleon's eyes gave Schneider the answer to his question."

"We need to cover it up for him in the mean time, if you don't mind? You understand? He doesn't want anyone else to know about it."

"I understand Napoleon. I'll put a bandage over it. You can go in to him if you want. I for one am very tired and I'm going home to bed now; unlike Alex Waverly, I require sleep. There's nothing I can do for him right now until I get those tests back. Napoleon, keep it short for once and go home, you've been running ragged lately yourself. You can't help him."

"Sorry Max, old Russian-American custom. You know we section II agents can be a little superstitous?" He tried smiling.

"Yeah right and I'm Albert Schweitzer. Good night Napoleon."

Solo picked up the telephone receiver at the nurses station, dialing the number for the Kuryakin's home.

A sleepy Bella answered.

"Sorry honey, I know I woke you."

"No that's alright I was awake, Demmy had a nightmare. First his mother called and he got very weepy after talking to her. He kept asking her when his papa is coming home, but Elliott thinks that Illya is on an assignment. Napoleon,

he seems to be very frightend about his father. Do you think we've telegraphed anything to him? He didn't act this way when Illya was missing for six weeks."

"Bella, stop. We have him."

"Oh thank God...is he alright?"

"He's unconscious. Schneider found a needle marks on his arms but doesn't know what was used."

"He is running a toxicology screen right?"

"Bella he knows what he's doing."

"Don't get short with me mister, I was just asking?"

"Sorry baby. I'm a bit stressed and tired too. I thought I had the guy that was responsible but now I'm not so sure. Look, I'm going to stay here until he wakes up, is there any way you can keep Demya for now? I guess take him to your mom and pop's?"

"No, that's not a good idea. He needs a calm environment, not the chaos in my parent's house, we'll keep him here for now. I'll take some of my vaction days; I'll tell them it's a family emergency. I've got way too many accumulated any way...hold on?"

"Bella?" he said into the receiver, "Bella what's wrong?"

"Napoleon, I have to go. Demmy's crying again...Illya will be alright, after all you're there with him? Love you." She hung up the telephone before he could say another word.

He walked quietly into his partner's room, half holding his breath until he saw the Russian laying in the bed, for once connected only to a heart monitor. He looked healthy and peaceful as if nothing were wrong, as if he could just open those blue eyes of his any second.

Napoleon pulled up an orange molded plastic chair, wishing it were more comfortable as he sat beside Illya's bed; simply watching his friends steady breathing and listening to the blip, blip blip of his heartbeat.

At one point he must have dozed off sometime during the night, as Nurse Walsh came in, calling to him softly; knowing well enough never to touch a sleeping agent.

"Napoleon?"

His eyes were open instantly.'hhmm? Yes?"

"Sorry to wake you, but Miss Graziani is on the telephone for you."

"What time is it?"

"It's seven a.m."

"Time for me to get up anyway." he yawned.

"Can I get you some coffee?"

"Please, that would be good. Thank you."

Napoleon walked out to the telephone, feeling as though he had just been there moments ago.

"Hi, you alright?"

"Not really. I've been up all night with him. Napoleon, the child was hysterical, he's worked himself into a frenzy. He's in a panic, thinking something has happened to is father and won't listen to reason. I don't speak any Russian, but I know that he listens when he's spoken to in it? You speak some right, can you talk to him please? I'm at my wits end here?"

He could hear the strain in her normally steady voice. Bella was not one to crack easily under pressure, but then dealing with a Kuryakin was a whole different animal.

"Sure honey, put him on."

He could hear her speaking in the background, telling the boy who it was on the phone.

"Uncle Napoleon?" he whimpered, sniffling a few times, " I want my papa?"

"Demya, your papa is away and you know very well he can't always talk to you when he is? Vy menya ponimaete_do you understand me?"

"No ya hochu, chtoby my papa_ I want my papa!" he raised his voice to his Uncle.

"Whoa! Demya Stoi! Vy dolzhny perestat' plakat' syeichas i vyshlushst' vashi Tetya Bella_ Demya stop! You need to stop crying now and listen to your Aunt Bella. Do you want your mama and papa to be cross with you when they come home and find out that you misbehaved?"

"Nyet"

"So are you going to stop now?" He said as he swallowed a mouthful of black coffee from mug the nurse had just slipped in front of him. He thanked her with a quick wink.

"Yes sir."

"Obeshchanie_promise?"

"Ya obeshchayu_ I promise."

"Horoshii mal'chik_good boy. Now put Aunt Bella on the phone please?'

"I don't know what you just said to him but it worked like a charm?"

"Not me. That's his father's training, guess you can take the boy out of the Soviet Union, but you can't take the Soviet Union out of the boy, Illya can be pretty stubborn when it comes to being listened to. Will you be O.K.? I really need to stay here with him."

"To use your agent venacular. Fine, I'll be fine. Thank you my darling. I'm going to try to get some sleep now. Will I see you some time today do you think?"

"Hard to tell, but I'll let you know. Sogni d'oro_sweet dreams. Bye." he whispered.

Napoleon swallowed more coffee with satisfaction, thinking it was heavenly then suddenly found a silly Chock full of Nuts jingle caught in his head, thinking 'better coffee a millionaire's money can't buy."

"Thanks, Nurse Walsh, this really is a good cup of coffee."

"You know after all these years, you've never called my by my first name Napoleon?"

"You've never asked?"

"Then please call me Nancy."

"Pleasure to meet you Nancy. Wait a minute, that's not your first name is it?"

She laughed. "You never caught on did you?"

Napoleon shrugged his confusion in following her.

"You never noticed that I seemed to be here all the time?"

"Well usually I was either in a hospitall bed or sitting next to one, so what is it you're saying?"

"I have an identical twin sister who is a duty nurse here as well."

"Really, twins?" Napoleon wondered how the hell he had missed that one. "Twins." he repeated with a smile.

"Get your mind out of the gutter." she smiled, "That's exactly why we never told you."

"And what's your sister's name again?

"If you can't remember, then I'm not telling."

"Twins, hhmm." He wondered if she was pulling his leg or not.

A small alarm went off at the station. "O.K.? Something's going on with Mr. Kuryakin."

The two walked quickly into Illya's room, finding him moving a little in bed; twitching, his hands clenching then releasing and rapid-eye movement. His heart rate had increased slightly, but nothing to indicate a problem.

"I think he's dreaming." she said.

"Nyet nyet." Illya mumbled apparently talking in his sleep,

"pazhaluista, ne raz...stoi, ostanovit._please not again, stop stop." Then his voice trailed off as he settled down again.

"What did he say?"

Napoleon just shook his head, not having the will to say. He knew his partner was reliving something terrible but what that thing was; he had no idea.

Illya struggled as Karl Voelker took hold of him, then cried out in pain as the man sodomized him, leaving him in tears. Then it was Lazar' the apparatchik at the gulag having at him, slamming his weakened body against the wall as the man raped him again."Pazhaluista, ne raz," he begged," stoi, ostanovit." When he was finished, the man threw a stale crust of bread at him in payment as Illya shook, laying down on the boards that were his bed. He covered himself with his flimsy blanket as he devoured the offering, ashamed at his inability to defend himself.

Napoleon pulled up his chair again, sipping his coffee; determined to stay at Illya's bedside until he woke.

Max Schneider walked into Illya's room, finding his partner stationed beside the Russian's bed as he had found him so many times in the past.

"Good morning."

Napoleon nodded tiredly, noticing the clip board in the physician's hand.

"Test results?"

"Pretty wild stuff in his blood. There's so many different chemicals, narcotics, hormones it's a regular smorgaobord of drugs. There are some compounds that the lab can't even identify yet? Thrush has come up with a doozy this time."

"You think it's them?

"Odds would be in favor of that as they're the ones who like to mess with crap like this."

"Prognosis?"

"Napoleon, I really can't say. This is such a bizarre mix of elements. The lab has never really seen anything like it. We're just going to have to play the waiting game and see if he comes out it. Physically he's strong, fully recovered from his last incident. Psychologically..."

Napoleon cut him off. "He's fine Max, trust me there."

"You know him better than I do, so I'm going to trust you there, for now."

"But?"

"We may have to get Dennison involved with this. He could have some severe problems, after all he's barely gotten over the last trauma."

"Do me a favor? Hold off on that for a bit, please trust me on this?"

"Sure why not? What's the point, we're putting the horse before the cart anyway."

Illya began to move about again, beginning to talk. 'Stoi anchlag, rhoi'r gorau i, sluta, staí, parada, tíngzhi, stoppen," From what Napoleon undertood, his partner was repeating the word stop, over and over in multiple languages; some of which Napoleon didn't recognize at all; guessing they were all had the same meaning.

"Illya can you hear me?" Illya!" he called to him. "Where the hell are you tovarisch."

"Da, ya zdes', moy drug_I am here my friend" Illya whispered to him as his eyes opened. He took him a few moments to realize were 'here' was.

"Welcome back?"

"Kudu ya idu?"

"Where did you go? Good question. Illya why are you speaking Russian to me?"

"Ya?"

"Yes you are."

Schneider was watching and listening. "Alright you two, do you mind if I just do a quick check of your vitals Illya?"

"Nyet."

Scheider looked confused. "He's not kidding around is he?

"Doktor, ya nahozhus' zhes' i mogu ponyat'"

Napoleon translated. "Doctor, I am here and can understand you."

"But Illya, I can't understand you."

Dr. Schneider leaned in lifting Illya's eye lid as he flashed a small penlite checking his pupilary dialation. Then he reached around, his neck checking his glands.

"Chto chuvstvuet ochen' nyeudobno."

"He said that feels very uncomfortable." Solo translated.

Schneider continued with the exam, taking a stethescope, checking his heart and breathing. Then Max took hold of one of Illya's arms, examining the puncture marks, taking note that he seemed to act nervously at being touched.

"How does it feel?"

"There is a slight burning, a tingling sensation at first. It is most..." he paused, searching for a word, " nepriyantni, disagreeable."he spoke in both Russian and English now.

As Max continued to probe Illya's body; the Russian shrank back. "Nyet!" He clenched both his fists, squeezing his eyes closed. "On gorit! fire...burns, it burns!" He struggled to say it in English.

"Where? All over?"

"Nyet, no where you just touch...touched me."

Max lifted his arm again to examine it and again Illya pulled it away, this time hissing in pain. "Ssstop! Do not ttoucch me? he stuttered.

Max and Napoleon looked at each other with raised eye brows. Schneider hit the call button for the nurse,

"Yes Doctor?"

"Would you please bring me a pair of latex gloves."

A moment later Nurse Walsh returned with them and Max slipped only one onto his hand.

"Alright Illya, we're going to try a little experiment?"

He reached out touching the gloved hand to Illya's arm but received no reaction.

"Any pain?"

"No."

Then Schneider did the same with his other hand. As soon as his skin came in contact with Illya's he let out a yelp.

"Interesting? And you say it feels like your skin is burning?"

"At first it feels like small tingling, then it is as if skin has burst into flame." His accent was decidedly Russian, instead of his usual slightly British one.

"O.K. but sorry I have to do this," He pulled down the blanket, exposing the Russian's legs, looking at them carefully. Then he did the same test and receiving the same results.

"Same pain?"

"Yes but stronger this time."

"One last time." Schneider did the same, touching Illya's face and head, again with the same results."

"Please not again!."Illya said,"stop!"

Napoleon looked at the doctor, realizing those were the same words Illya had muttered when they thought he was dreaming.

"Tovarisch do you remember what happened to you?"

"No! What happened to me, do you know?"

"That's what we're trying to find out. Illya you disappeared for three days." Napoleon had a bad feeling, given that Illya had awoken speaking only Russian; that he had been reliving his torture and rape in the gulag. Maybe his partner wasn't over it after all.

The Russian stared at the wall, trying to focus his thoughts. "I was gone for three days?" he repeated in disbelief. "Der'mo_shit."