The blond man had been freed from most of the tubes and IV. He rested peacefully, apparently asleep. He looked fine... Napoleon Solo smiled at the familiar scene and stepped on tip toe.
"Time to show yourself..."
The words had been hissed softly. Napoleon sighed loudly, sitting down next to the bed.
"The Doctor was right: grumpy and grousing... Welcome back, partner mine."
Yes. Things came back to normal. Doubts and darkness faded. Illya Kuryakin opened his eyes. The smiles they exchanged belied the ironical banter.
"It was a close call, my friend."
Napoleon Solo brushed aside some disheveled locks, a familiar gesture which the Russian wouldn't have put up with, had anyone else tried it. Though, of course, he pursed disapproving lips at the dark haired man's boldness.
"You'll be held to account for that, Napoleon..."
"Just what I said: grumpy and grousing..."
Unexpectedly Illya Kuryakin refrained from going on bantering. He felt comfortable, slightly light-headed, delighted and it wasn't only due to the painkillers. The man who was sitting next to him was Napoleon Solo. THE Napoleon Solo he knew for years, hazel eyes twinkling with relief and pleasure, a bright smile enlightening his face, encouraging, promising, teasing... Napoleon Solo. His partner, his friend. Not the unsure, uncertain, hesitating man he had seen for weeks.
"Illya?"
"You're right. It was a close call..."
His friend grabbed the hand he held to him.
"The Doctor told you'd be back to light duty in a few months, and..."
The Russian gasped.
"Light duty in one month! And then... Don't try, he told me, too!"
Napoleon Solo squeezed the hand, chuckling.
"Because you were about to riot, as usual..."
As expected, the Offended Innocent rolled his eyes.
His wife's and his children's life were at stakes in the game and he knew it. It wasn't an idle threat. He was already a traitor. Would he turn into a murderer, renouncing his most sacred principles? Would he manage to kill the Russian? He could undoubtedly. He'd be beyond suspicion and it would be easy, probably...
"You're restive, Doctor, and you don't pay attention. At the moment, we want you to keep your eyes open. At best, Waverly will ask you to take Kuryakin in your clinic."
"Please, no..."
"Ts ts ts... You'll take care of him. You'll put all your energy into ... helping him. Peace, calm, serenity. As long as possible, Doctor. The longer... the better."
He couldn't help sighing with relief, but the man added:
" Though, if required..."
The sardonic tone caused him to shiver. If required... He cleared his throat.
"What if Mr. Waverly had another plan? He..."
The other was obviously aggravated.
"Ts ts ts... You helped his top agent out of a tight spot, didn't you? In your interest, that's to say, of course, in your family's and in Kuryakin's interest, let's hope Waverly will trust you with the Russian's life..."
"No, Jules."
Jules Cutter almost choked with surprise. Alexander Waverly sneered and went on, waving his pipe.
"We can't delay the Meeting. We won't. Since the Doctor told us about Illya Kuryakin, you started to plan about it. No."
Napoleon Solo turned serious.
"We worried a lot about you, you know? I... I was terrified."
"Terrified?"
The tone wasn't amazed, nor even incredulous. Illya Kuryakin had experienced the feeling.
"Your car exploded. You fell off the bridge in the river and almost drowned yourself. Your surviving was kind of a miracle. Illya?"
The Russian was lost in thought, his face suddenly strained. Napoleon Solo felt a twinge of remorse.
"Oh, you're tired, my friend. You need some rest. I am sorry. Take a nap, and..."
Illya Kuryakin shook his head.
"No, no, Napoleon. I am fine. Really fine."
As usual, Napoleon thought.
"I tried to remember... I was on the bridge... Did the blast hurt anyone else? Did it killed... someone?"
"No, Illya. Mmmm... except for the car. You ..." Napoleon Solo paused, staring at his partner. "You survived..."
He squeezed again the hand he held tight.
"You were virtually unharmed, except for some bruises, scratches, burns... But you had got a nasty bang and stayed a long time in the water. The Doctor thought..."
The words died on his lips.
"He thought I would probably survive as a ... vegetable."
Illya Kuryakin's smile looked rather bleak.
"But you aren't, Illya. You aren't."
"Yes, I am fine."
He closed his eyes.
"I was terrified, too, Napoleon."
It was an amazing and very unusual admission.
"I thought I was dead, first. Later, I realized that I was alive, probably drugged in a Thrush cell and I knew you'd come for me. Déjà vu... Then, eventually... I heard voices. I didn't recognize them, but they were familiar and words were kind." He opened his eyes. "I couldn't speak, Napoleon. I couldn't reply. I couldn't move. I was truly a powerless vegetable, powerless and absolutely conscious. I was at home and... terrified. I wished I could... But voices were still there, talking to me, urging..."
He stopped.
"Illya..."
The blue eyes looked at him.
"Napoleon...?"
"Yes?"
The Russian peeped around and whispered.
"Does ... Does April have... green hair, really?"
"You remember that... "
"So?"
The dark-haired man chukled.
"Yes, for a few hours... But don't tell anything, Mark would have to pay for that..."
"Jules Cutter..."
"Yes, he was with you when you got back to consciousness."
"I know."
And I wasn't, Napoleon Solo thought. He had wasted time in going over and over useless ideas in his mind, leaving his friend alone.
"Napoleon?"
Illya Kuryakin felt delightedly dozy, suddenly, but he wanted to know.
"You told me something."