Napoleon left his partner sleeping in medical after spending the night at his bedside again; it seemed that the only peace brought to Illya was now at the end of a needle. Schneider had no choice but to give him an injection to knock him out; finally gettting the nearly crazed Russian under control.

He had seen his partner in pain before, bearing it with his usual stoicism and rarely acknowledging it except unless it was to an extreme. But what he'd witnessed Illya go though in the commissary was far beyond those extremes; he'd never see him like this as he was on the verge of hysteria.

Though a little less intense; it was very similar to Demya's outburst and that struck Napoleon as rather odd wondering if the boy had some prescient empathy with his father; but unlike the younger Kuryakin, he could not bring Illya down from his highly charged emotional state with a few words of Russian.

Nancy Walsh, or maybe it was her sister, promised that no one would be allowed near him, except for his wife. Right now he didn't care which Walsh sister it was as long as she kept her promise to him. He was feeling bit guilty, blaming himself for it all; if he hadn't convinced Illya to go to the commissary with him then none of this would have ever happened.

He at least had the forethought to make sure that Elliott was not made aware of this latest episode.

Why upset her when she couldn't even touch her husband to comfort him; Elliott had enough on her plate with having to be cut off from him. She was home with her son and that was the best place for her to be at the moment.

Napoleon disagreed vehemently with the psych department's assessment of his partner, so the last person he wanted to see was Dr. Dennison, but of course that was exactly who he ran right into as he headed towards the elevator.

"Don't say it to me Doc." he warned, raising his hand to the man.

The man ignored Napoleon's words and proceeded directly into his diatribe."You have to face the truth and let go of this delusion that your partner's condition is the result of another's actions. It is in his head. Period."

Napoleon tried ditching the man but Dennison followed him into the elevator, leaving him no choice but to take a defensive posture against his lecturings.

"Sorry , after what I saw tonight in the commissary; that was real pain and something was done to Illya to make him become this way!"

"Correct, he is feeling real pain in his head. Illya is the cause of his own dilemma, Napoelon, no one else is responsible. Your partner's psychosomatic pain is the culmination of years of mental, emotional and physical traumas that he's suffered over and over. The most recent incident in Russia I believe was the final trigger. His near death experience and then being snatched from it were just too much for him to bear."

"This pain is his mind's way of trying to drive people away from him because it was people who hurt him so much. It doesn't matter if they are friend or foe...people equal pain to his subconscious mind."

Napoleon listened, restraining himself; but all the while he could feel his temper rising. He very rarely lost it, but he was getting close to doing so this time was doing his best to keep it from happening.

"You section II agents all think you're invincible; but Illya is proof that you are not. And the sooner your partner realizes that and admits to the source of his conditon; the sooner he will begin to recover. If he does not, then he will in all likelihood remain in this state permanently."

"We'll have to send him to our asylum in up state New York to be cared form And even if he does accept that this pain is a fabrication of his mind; I'm afraid at this point Illya Kuryakin will never return to the field."

"He is too fragile and will not longer be able to handle it as he is suffering from post-traumatic stress. He still experieces nightmares about many incidents from the past but the gulag seems to be the most profound at present."

"He is going to need years of psycho-therapy for that alone. Your partner is a very ill man I'm afaid."

The elevator eased to a stop as the doors opened silently. Napoleon stepped out even though it wasn't his floor; as he needed to just get away from the man. He moved aside as one of the secretaries walked past him, getting into the elevator, standing near the doctor.

Napoleon deliberately held the doors open with his hand just for a moment, leaning in close to the psychiatrist.

"You know what Doctor, you can go fuck yourself," he hissed, releasing the doors as they closed before the now angry Dr. Dennison could say another word.

He went to the section II conference room; using an outside line; he made a phone call, making arrangements to meet her at an Italian eatery on 46th Street.

"Only the best for her," he said to himself. He was going to get some answers. Napoleon went to the locker room, showered, shaved and put on fresh change of clothing that he always kept there.

He heading out of the building and as he removed his badge handing it to Wanda, he told her he was going to meet someone at Barbetta's near Mt. Sinai Hospital and would be back shortly.

A few minutes later the outside line at the reception desk rang. "This is the United Network Command for Law and enforcement, how may I direct your call?" Wanda said.

"Hi Wanda, it's Bella Graziani, could you connect me with Napoleon please?"

"Hello Miss Graziani, you just missed him...umm he said he was going to meet, well I guess he's going to meet you at Barbetta's right by there at the hospital?"

"Oh really? Alright, thank you." Bella didn't recall him telling her that, unless he was going to surprise her: Barbettas was one of the finest Italian restaurants in the city, leave it to Napoleon to pick only the best. She smiled, deciding to surprise him instead.

Wanda wondered after she hung up the phone if she had gotten Napoleon's message right then shrugged, not giving it any further thought.

Napoleon entered the elegantly appointed dining area, rich in the colors and decor of Piemonte region of Italy. The chairs were covered in embroidered brocade and every table had it's own candleabra. The walls a deep shade of mediterranean coral accented with rich golden trim. The darch wood work in the room was intricately carved in arabesque designs.

She sat at a table waiting for him and as soon as he approached she held out her hand to him for it to be caressed as he had so often done; but apparently not today.

"My we're being a little rude aren't we?"

"Not really, I just need to forego our usual foreplay and get right down to business."

"Darling, a girl does like to be romanced before, well you what I mean?"

"Angelique, you did really take care of Karl Voelker?"

"Napoleon, would I lie to you? No, disregard that answer, of course I'd lie to you but in this case I did not. Voelker is dead."

'How?"

"Oh the poor man had a very unexpected meeting with a train, shall we say? I understand they had to pick him up in several pieces. They listed his death was listed as a suicide, very nicely done if I say so myself." she smiled.

Napoleon absorbed that bit of information for a second. "I have to ask you a question on a different subject matter and I'm hoping you'll be honest with me?"

The waiter arrived with a martini for her and a scotch on the rocks for him; Angelique after all, was very familiar with all his preferences.

"Shall we have a toast then Napoleon before getting on to new business? Perhaps we should say, to the settling of debts?"

The two opposing agents raised their glasses taking a sip, never taking their eyes from each other.

"Alright Napoleon, let the games begin. Ask your silly little question."

"Did someone from T.H.R.U.S.H. grab Illya recently? Let's say, giving him some sort new drugs, experimental perhaps?"

She pulled a cigarette from her case, holding it out in expectation of Napoleon, always the gentleman, lighting it for her. But instead he swallowed his scotch.

"Napoleon, if you expect an anwer, then you have to play the game properly, you know better than that?"

He pulled out his cigarette lighter, obliging her as usual.

"Well?"

"Oh dear, you have no patience at all today." she pouted, "I see you're not going to be any fun at the moment. Perhaps a change of venue? We could just skip the main course and go straight to dessert?" she smiled at him as she pursed her lips seductively.

"No, I'm sorry but that is going to have to come to an end."

"Pourquoi pas ma chère_why my darling?"

"I asked my question first?" he smiled.

"Alright if you insist. But you actually asked two, so only one at a time dearest. No one has laid hand on that partner of yours I can assure you, so that I presume kills two birds... no that saying won't do will it?" She casually flicked the ashes from her cigarette into a Capodimonte ashtray.

"Perhaps you should look closer to home, you can't always blame things on us you know? Your ememies can be nearer than you think, sometimes they're not always from without. We just dicovered one of our people had gone over to the Stasi."

"By the way, he ended up on the tracks with Voelker. How ironic as he was praised as a hero for trying to save the man. Now I must ask, has something happened to that insipid little Russian of yours?"

"No no, that's a second question my dear Angelique,"he smiled, playing by her rules, "now the answer to your first question is that you and I will no longer be able to continue with our little assignations because..."

She gave him a rather strange look, interrupting him.

"Wait,you're not dying are you? These injection experiments things you mentioned weren't about you were they darling; better the Russian than you?;

"I'm touched at your concern." he smiled.

"Napoleon, even though our employers are diametrically opposed doesn't mean I haven't developed a sort of fondness for you?"

"No I'm fine, I assure you. You see, I'm...getting married."

"What?" she laughed out loud, "Napoleon Solo the great paramour, the Don Juan of the spy world is hanging up his libido for a marriage bed? She laughed again. "I don't believe it!"

"It's true, so here endeth our illicit affairs Anglique, it was fun while it lasted." He raised his glass to her. "I am a believer of fidelity in marriage."

She pouted, then took a sip of her martini as she extinguished her cigarette. "That I seriously doubt. You realize dearest Napoleon that we'll have to just go back to being ordinary enemies don't you?"

He took her hand in his, finally kissing it. "Angelique, nothing about you could ever be ordinary."

"Always the charmer, I will miss you I must say. Alors, Je crains que ce soit d'adieu? Quell honte_then I am afraid it is farewell. What a shame."

Angelique rose gracefully from her chair, "Perhaps, a farewell kiss, for old times sake." as she bent over, the flawless white skin of her cleavage offering him temptation one last time as she leaned into him, pressing her lips to his.

He returned the kiss with equal furvor, pulling her into his arms as he let his tongue explore her mouth one last time. She was no longer irresitable to him and he gently released her. "Not going to work," he whispered close to her ear, his lips barely touching it; giving her a taste of her own medicine as he knew that drove her crazy.

There was a loud gasp from someone in front of them. Napoleon turned his head, seeing Bella standing beside the table. She put her hand to her mouth, letting out a sob as she ran from the restaurant.

Napoleon pushed Angelique away from him, then rose quickly from his chair.

"Bella?"

"Oh is that the little woman? Hmm, perhaps no longer?"

He knocked his chair over as he took off after her.

"If it doesn't work out darling, you know where to find me!" Angelique laughed as she called to him.

He ran emerged from the restaurant to the sidewalk, catching Bella by the arm as she was about run into the street; pulling her back in time as she was nearly being hit by a city bus.

"Bella it's not what you think! Stop!" he pleaded with her.

She wrenched her arm free of his grip. "Leave me alone!"

"Bella please? Let me explain!"

She swung round, slapping him across the face as tears ran down her cheeks.

"Allotavatevi da m voi Lotario_ get away from me you Lothario!" She pulled off her engagement ring, shoveing it into his hand. "Go back to your blond bimbo!"

She stormed across the street, disappering around the corner and out of sight.

Napoleon leaned back against a lamp post, holding the diamond ring in his hand staring at it for a few minutes, then finally shoving it in his pocket; he shaded his eyes with his hand as tears began to well up in his eyes. He had no idea what to do; he was the master strategist yet he felt utterly and completely lost.

Angelique walked up behind him, "Napoleon?'

"Go away."

"Napoleon, go after her. You're a smart man, you'll figure it out. And I'm ignoring for your sake darling, that she called me a blond bimbo. Adieu."

Then she walked away from him as well, vanishing among the many pedestrians moving along the busy sidewalk.

He got into his car and started driving not thinking about where he was going, then fifteen minutes later he found himself in front of the Kuryakin house, sitting in the car, staring again at the diamond ring, clutching it his hand.

Napoleon finally got out of the car, opening the wrought iron gate, he walked up the up the stairs slowly as his feet seemed like they were encased in cememt. He entered the vestibule, but just stood for a moment. But before he could ring the bell Elliott opened the door.

He looked terrible, and she immediately assumed it was because of Illya.

"Oh my God," she gasped, "please don't tell me he's dead, please no?"

He grabbed her by the arms. " No, it's not about him...it's about me."

"What's wrong?"

He opened his palm revealing the diamond ring to her.

"No way, what happened?"

Elliott lead him to a chair at the kitchen table.

"I arranged a rendezvous with Angelique Du Chien to see if I could find out if Thrush was behind Illya's condition. I told her I was getting married and couldn't, well you know, not be with her any more. Angelique kissed me good bye and I responded...it was just a kiss."

"I don't know how, but Bella was there in the restaurant and saw it. I went after her, but she wouldn't listen to me. She took off the ring and shoved it in my hand. Elliott, this can't be happening to me?"

Without another word, Elliott pulled a bottle of scotch from the kitchen cabinet, pouring him a double as she sat down beside him.

"Napoleon, have you ever really sat down and had a talk with Bella about the things, the kind of things we as agents have to do sometimes, you know like what ye do with Angelique?"

"No I never have. I've told her a little bit, but I never really wanted her to know the sordid side of our jobs."

"Ye should have told her. She had a right ta know what she was getting into? I know she knows what ye do for a living, but there's a lot more to it than that. There's the lies, deceptions, the secrets, killing and the sex...sometimes even I find it hard to tell what's real and what's not, and I'm an agent!"

"Napoleon she's not part of our world, but she needs ta know about it so she can decide if she still wants ta be. Are ye understanding me?"

He swallowed a large gulp of the burning liquid. "You're right, I should have been more open with her. I don't think she'll even see me to let me try to talk to her now? If her family finds out; I won't be allowed within a hundred feet of her. Hell, Waverly could have my head over this?"

"Napoleon, I'll go see her for ye. Bella and I we get along quite well and besides it might be better if she hears some things from a woman's point of view?"

"Thank you Elliott, you're amazing you know that?"

"So my husband tells me all the time, speaking of which how is he today? How's he making out in the lab, any headway?"

"No, I'm afraid not. Listen," he hesitated to tell her, "there was another incident, came into contact with him when we went to eat in the commissary last night. Ellie, it was pretty awful. I've never seen him like that in all the years I've known him. I've seen him scream in pain, but not like that. They have him back in medical right now under sedation. Dennisons completely convinced that the pain is all in Illya's head and can't convince Illya otherwise. It's a battle of wills and I think for once Illya is going to lose."

"That's a load of cow manure coming from Dennison and ye know it."

"If I don't find out who did this to him and how, then he's going to forcibly retire him and send him upstate to the asylum."

"Over my dead body, that foul git's not taking my Illya away, U.N.C.L.E. or no!"