A.N : To any reader with medical expertise; I do not lay claim to any medical knowledge at all, so pray forgive me for errors.

Napoleon sat in his office with a tall pile of reports in front of him, staring sightlessly into space.

What could have happened to his partner in just three hours? Foolish thinking, of course. He knew that. THRUSH could kill a man in five minutes, so three hours was quite enough to do all the damage they needed. But Illya had not been as physically hurt as he usually was after a session with THRUSH, so what had they done to him? Napoleon would never believe that his friend would cave in like this. It was almost like he had given in to THRUSH. What they wanted more than anything was to break up the Solo/Kuryakin partnership, get one or both partners out of the field. Well, for the first time, they had succeeded. Whatever they had done to Illya, it had worked. The man had run away with his tail between his legs. What had they done to him?

Illya was about the toughest agent Napoleon had. His ability to withstand torture defied belief. If THRUSH had succeeded in making Illya leave the field, or, worse still, leave UNCLE, in just three hours, then they could do anything. Surely there must be some clue? He got up from his seat and left his office.

Down in the labs, the scientists and technicians were working on deciphering the machinery that had been retrieved from that satrap. Napoleon entered, and was approached right away by the head of R and D, Elijah Coren.

"Mister Solo, it's quite a setup, isn't it?"

It was that. A range of computer banks surrounded a metallic bed, with a contraption at one end that was clearly designed to fit over the head of the subject.

"You worked it all out yet?"

Coren nodded.

"Not all of the details. Difficult to test its functions properly without a human volunteer, and we're not prepared to go that far. It takes time."

"So, what do you have Eli?"

"This is designed to interfere with brain function."

Napoleon rolled his eyes.

"Eli, I can see that just by looking at it."

Coren grinned.

"Of course, but when used in conjunction with certain types of drugs…and I will assume that the designer of this machine created his own special drug for the purpose, it seems that the victim can be forced to re-live their own worst memories. It stimulates memory engrams. It would appear that things we have embedded in our consciousness, memories we value are always active and are unlikely to be affected by the process. Only…"

"…only dormant memory engrams?"

Coren nodded.

"Engrams that are dormant…in other words, things we have either forgotten or repressed are stimulated. The victim, strapped to this table would be forced to remember the all the worse memories of his life, anything he had forgotten or repressed…he would not just remember it Mister Solo, he would be forced to re-live it over again. The repressed memory would become embedded in the long-term memory."

"That cannot be forgotten? So, someone like Kuryakin who survived the sacking of Kiev and the destruction of his whole life as a young child…?"

Coren shuddered visibly.

"I hate to think. If Mister Kuryakin has bad memories that he has banished or repressed…if he was subjected to this machine, then he will be…"

Coren gulped.

"…Feeling pretty bad right now I would think."

Solo nodded.

"Hmmm." He agreed. "Anything else? Surely THRUSH doesn't care about restoring repressed memories? There has to be another purpose for this thing?"

Coren nodded.

"Not only can it stimulate…but by changing the frequencies used…it can target and destroy."

"You mean, destroy memories?"

"It can destroy brain tissue, period. If the creator of this thing manages to target correctly, in theory he could destroy a man's reasons for his allegiance, create a new background for him and change his allegiance. A devout UNCLE agent could be made to dedicate himself to THRUSH instead."

Solo met Coren's eyes.

"If that is what they were trying to do to Kuryakin…and if he managed to work it out…?"

Coren bit his lip.

"The difference is, Mister Solo, that the medical world has not yet fathomed out the secrets of the brain. Some things we know, but much more we do not. To try and pinpoint a specific target in a brain is bound to be largely guesswork. Who knows the damage that could be inflicted because we simply do not have a detailed map of the human brain yet?"

Solo felt his heart plummet to his boots. If Kuryakin had realized the purpose of the machine, he would certainly also see the inherent dangers. If that was causing him to have self-doubts, based upon what THRUSH may or may not have done to him, then no wonder the man had taken himself a long break. If for no other reason than to try and work out what it was that THRUSH had done to him. He turned to Coren who was watching him in some sympathy.

"You are working with medical on this Mister Coren?"

Coren nodded.

"Doctor Romeo from medical and our chief scientist, professor Adam Kamil are collaborating closely. If they come up with something that they feel might offer help or…well, they will contact your partner…or yourself if Mister Kuryakin refuses to answer his communicator."

"It…er…it might pay to include doctor Fergus in the loop too. I mean, under the circumstances…"

Coren nodded gravely.

"Doctor Romeo is I believe meeting with her later today to discuss our findings. We will keep you informed, Mister Solo. Depend upon it."

OOO

"…I am sorry Mrs. Solo, but Mister Solo is not in his room at this moment to answer his telephone. Would you like me to have him paged?"

Ce paled at the thought of Napoleon being paged only to find that it was her.

"No, no, it's alright. I'll call him at home later. Thank you."

She hung up. She looked up and found Illya standing over her.

"Is everything alright?" He asked her, suspicion shading his eyes.

She nodded.

"Fine. Are you all right, Illya?"

"Who were you calling?"

"Only my brother-in-law."

Illya's frown deepened.

"Why would you call Napoleon at work at a time like this?"

She grinned.

"I was going to invite him for dinner tomorrow night, but he was not available to talk to."

"Why bother phoning him, Ce? He'll be here in a day or two anyway, to try and make me see reason."

She nodded.

"I know…He's worried about you…like the rest of us. You know your daughter is concerned about you too, don't you?"

Illya looked away. Ce reached out and touched his arm.

"It is none of my concern, Illya, but to us you are family. Whatever it is that is on your mind…we are here for you whenever you want or need us to be. You know that, right?"

Illya nodded.

"I'm not used to…I've always been…" he broke off and cleared his throat. "Ce, I came to ask you what time I should go and collect Katiya from school?"

"If you aim to arrive at around three-thirty, that would be great."

"I uh…I intend to take her out for a meal this evening, Ce. Just the two of us, so you won't need to make her a dinner. I'll make sure she gets back early enough to get her…how do you put it? Beauty sleep?"

Ce smiled.

"No problem. Enjoy your evening, Illya."

Illya didn't smile, but he nodded awkwardly, and disappeared inside the house once more. Left behind, Ce gazed out toward her husband, whom she could still just see in the distance striding out across his fields, three collies at his heels. She was worried about the Russian. She couldn't help it. He was so grim and efficient normally, that he defied anyone to worry about him. This time though, his grimness, if that was the right word, had a very deep underlying sadness about it that seemed to be relentlessly pulling him down. Like a feather caught in a whirlpool, he seemed helpless against it.

Illya lay on his back on his bed, his hands clasped behind his head, thoughts racing through his mind.

Why had he hit Napoleon? Napoleon had only been trying to help after all, and he did not deserve to be punched for his trouble. The fact was, he knew why. Napoleon had hit a nerve, but what had he actually said? Did they break you? Did they break your spirit?

Had they? He could have said no, or something equally forceful, but he had not. He had reacted with violence against his best friend. What had THRUSH done to him with their infernal machines? Something was scaring him, but he didn't know what. He was an UNCLE agent. He shouldn't be afraid for no reason. Being afraid was normal. It was human and was a perfectly normal response to a dangerous situation. But he was safe now, so why had the fear not abated? Why was it continuing to grow? Was he a coward now? Was this a side-effect of whatever that machine had done? He was afraid and he did not want to be. There was no visible reason for fear, but still he was afraid. And that fear was making him angry, because he could find no reason for it and therefore he had no way to fight it.

Katiya knew her papa had told her that he would be picking her up after school, but somehow she was a little anxious. Would he be there?

Her classmates had seen papa that morning, and several of them had commented to her about him. Lily Janus had said he looked like a boxer, no doubt referring to his black eye. Susan Moyes had said he looked like an angel. Some of the older girls in the school had sighed, and batted their eyes and said how pretty he was. Katiya agreed that he was pretty, but rolled her eyes as they continued to brush their hair and giggle as they hung around outside the school gates. She was glad that everyone seemed to like her papa, but it was only because he was young and had a pretty face, she knew. Half of them still turned their backs on her because of her nationality, although they had all learned not to bully her now. If they talked to papa and they learned that he was no more American than she was, would they still think that he was pretty?

Her heart thumped with relief when she saw him. He had changed his clothes, she noticed, and was wearing a pair of faded black jeans, a white polo shirt and a jacket the colour of his eyes. He carried with him a small satchel. He met her with a smile and ignoring the envious eyes watching from all around, gave her a big hug.

"Hello kitten. Good day?"

She nodded.

"Everyone liked you papa. They all think you are pretty."

Illya gave her a pained look.

"Pretty? Really, Katiya!"

Katiya giggled.

"Did you have a good day, papa?"

When he did not reply straight away she looked up at him and saw his eyes were far away again. Clearly, he had not had a good day. She could see the deep sadness in his face, in his eyes and even in the way his shoulders slumped slightly. He had never been like that since she had known him. He had his moments like people did, but he had not been as sad as this, ever. She really wished that she could do something to help him. Aunty Ce had said that just being herself was enough, and at the time that had reassured her, but now it did not. Papa had said this morning that being with her made him happy, but looking at her papa now, had he lied to her? No, he had meant he loved being with her, and she knew that it was true. Something else was making him unhappy, and being with her was not enough to help him. How could she ever help her papa? It broke her heart to see that sadness in his eyes and know that she did not understand; that he would not tell her what was wrong, and that she could do nothing to help him.

She reached out and clutched his hand and held it tightly. He acknowledged it with a squeeze. She skipped lightly beside him until he turned down a road that led towards town. She could see the buildings in the distance. And now they were standing with three or four elderly people in a bus queue. She looked at her papa in surprise.

"Are we not going home, papa?"

"No kitten, I am taking you out this afternoon. I am taking you on a mystery tour. Would you like that?"

"I don't know what that is, but…"

Illya translated the phrase into Ukrainian for her, and her eyes widened. She glanced round at others in the queue and remembered what Aunty Ce had told her about speaking English when other people were present who could not understand her own language. She grinned and replied in English.

"Thank you, papa. That sounds…" she glanced down at her school dress.

"I will have to be careful not to ruin my dress."

Illya grinned and indicated the bag he was carrying.

"I have a change of clothes in here for you. Jeans, jacket, a top and socks and training shoes…what do Americans call them?"

"Sneakers." Katiya told him, laughing. Sometimes she wasn't sure whether he really did not know words like these or if he was just having her on. Anyway, he was laughing with her. She hugged him.

"Where are we going first papa?"

"Katiya, if I told you that it would hardly be a mystery now would it? Wait and see. You'll get the chance to change your clothes, promise."

Katiya thoroughly enjoyed her afternoon with papa. They had taken the bus to the train station, and then a train that had taken them into Manhattan. When they got off the train in the subway, they had climbed up a rather grand looking stairwell and Katiya gasped.

"Is this…?"

"Grand Central Station, kitten. Yes. Aunty Ce reminded me the other day that you hadn't seen this place yet."

"Its beautiful!"

Katiya had stood for ages, just staring around her at the lofty ceilings and the lovely carvings. The three great arch shaped windows that allowed light to stream into the impressive hall. The people were thronging around her, seemingly oblivious. But she had never seen any place so impressive. After a long time, Illya nudged her.

"Come along, and we'll find a place for you to change your clothing."

Katiya took the bag and hurried into the ladies' powder room to change whilst papa waited outside. She came out grinning. She was wearing an outfit identical to his own.

"Thank you, papa, I love it. Now you look like you are copying me!"

Illya laughed and took her hand.

"Come on, cheeky. Let's get you some food, shall we?"

Down the stairs they went again, to the next floor down and emerged into the food hall. Katiya was almost as impressed as she had been by the grand hall upstairs.

"All this is just to eat food, papa?"

"People come here from all around the world, kitten."

"Well, we came all the way from Ukraine!"

They ate a meal of hamburgers and fries, followed by something that Katiya didn't know the name of, but thoroughly enjoyed. It consisted of layers of different flavours of ice-cream, fresh cream and fruit that she had to eat with a very long-handled spoon.

"Aunty Ce would say that this is very unhealthy!" she declared as she scraped at the empty glass with her spoon.

"Well Aunty Ce is right. Perhaps we shouldn't do it every day, but sometimes it is alright. Are you finished there? Come on then. Now a taxi."

"A yellow taxi-cab? Where are we going now?"

Illya pulled out a blister packet of tablets from his pocket, popped two and dry-swallowed them.

"You'll see."

"What was that medicine you took, papa? Are you sick?"

Illya smiled.

"No, but if I don't take them I will get sick in a little while. You'll find out. Come along. Don't run on a full stomach Katiya. Walk slowly and stay with me."

Katiya was wildly excited to find that papa was taking her on the circle line; a boat that sailed the circuit of Manhattan Island. She was fascinated to watch the scenery pass by so quickly, The Statue of Liberty, the view of the tall buildings of Manhattan from the sea, then the East River, and then through to the Hudson River. Katiya had never seen her new home from this angle before, and she was stunned into silence, just drinking it all in. Illya for his part had never been on the circle line for pleasure, only as a way of finding or catching suspects, and as such he had never before taken the time to appreciate the beauty of the surroundings, especially as the boat emerged into the Hudson River, with the luscious green of New Jersey ahead of them. When they alighted finally from the boat, it was starting to get late. Illya hailed a taxi to take them back to the railway station to head back home. Despite his sore and aching body, still recovering from his captivity, Illya managed to swing Katiya on to his shoulders to carry her the mile or two home once they had got off the train. She was holding tightly to his ears, but she was really getting too big now to be carried this way, and she was heavier than she had been when he had carried her like this before. They arrived back at the Solo farm exhausted. Winston grinned and carried Katiya upstairs, followed by his wife to get the little girl ready for bed. Illya kissed his daughter goodnight, and wandered into the study, where he preferred the softness of the sofa.

"Hello my friend. Are you all right?"

Smiling at him from the sofa, a small whisky in hand, was Napoleon.

Illya had known that this would happen. That Napoleon would return, to try and make him talk. Illya was tired and now that his daughter was asleep upstairs, his mind was starting to dwell once again on…less pleasant fears. Napoleon, however, did not look like he was in any hurry to ask questions. He was holding out a glass of whisky and yawning. Illya clicked on the main light, and Napoleon winced at the sudden brightness, as opposed to the rapidly fading light coming in through the window. Now he could see him properly, Illya could see shadows encircling his friend's left eye, like a sort of faded grey panda type eyepatch.

"Does that hurt?"

"Not too much. I seem to have escaped the multi-coloured hues of yours."

"Step on a rake?"

"Very funny."

Illya took the proffered glass and sipped at the whisky and winced.

"Yeuch! How can you drink this stuff?"

"As easily as you drink your own poison, my Russian friend."

"I'm not coming back Napoleon. Don't try to persuade me."

"I wasn't about to."

Illya took another sip, pulled a face and put the glass on the table.

"So why are you here? Just to visit your big brother?"

"Any reason why I shouldn't?"

"No, except that he's in the snug watching television, and you're in here with me."

"Ah. I must have come to visit my best friend, then."

"Right."

"Right."

Illya, quite determined not to be dragged into discussing anything he was not ready to, was content to sit silently all evening if need be, but presently Napoleon let his breath go in a loud hiss and twisted himself to face his friend.

"Look my friend, I came to talk to you."

"I don't feel like talking Napoleon."

"Did I ask you to? I said I'd come to talk to you, not with you, although, by all means feel free!"

Napoleon's tone was sharper than he had ever used to Illya before, and Illya realized suddenly that he was behaving childishly. He rubbed his face, and turned so that he too was facing his friend.

"Look, I am sorry Napoleon. I know you care. Cecily keeps worrying about me, and I have even caught Katiya watching me as though she is afraid I will burst into tears or fall apart or something. They refuse to believe me when I tell them that I am fine."

"That is because you're not fine, Illya. You don't believe it yourself. I know you're not fine as well as you do, but I also know why."

Illya was struck suddenly silent. Napoleon held out a photograph Elijah Coren had given him of the brain machine set up.

"You recognize this machine don't you?"

Illya nodded numbly. Napoleon nodded towards the picture that Illya was staring at as though hypnotized.

"Science and medical are still investigating this thing. As they said, it takes time, but we think we have a good idea of what THRUSH were trying to do to you. You have some idea too I think?"

Illya shrugged, and then nodded.

"Illya, I have asked Wint and Ce to give us some privacy, so no one will be walking in here to interrupt us. I can tell you what this thing is intended for, but it will be easier for you if you first tell me how you believe it has affected you?"

Illya shook his head violently.

"No! No, no, no, no, no, no, I can't, can't. no."

"Ok then, I'll start. It disrupts memory engrams, Illya. Depending on the setting and the strength and the dosage of the drug you are given, it will either stimulate lost or hidden memories and make you relive them, or it kills memories…even killing brain matter itself if the dosage is high enough…"

Napoleon could see the information going home, and the rapid succession of expressions on his friend's face. Finally, Illya sat forward and rested his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees, muttering in Russian. Napoleon sat silently, watching him. Finally, he said softly, almost hesitantly;

"Are you alright, Illya?"

Illya nodded and sat up.

"Killing brain cells, reigniting dead memories and destroying others…Napoleon, forgive me for hitting you yesterday. I have been having trouble controlling my anger too…"

"Angry at THRUSH for hurting you again?"

Illya shook his head, and Napoleon noticed his face looked paler than normal.

"Angry at myself."

"Are you willing to tell me why you took leave without even telling me? Considering what I have learned about this machine, and its potential I can't say as I blame you under the circumstances, but I thought you trusted me."

"I do…I do trust you, but…"

With a burst of insight, Napoleon suddenly realized what it was that Illya had said; Anger at himself, having trouble controlling it. If Illya had suffered the loss of some memory or memories during his incarceration, and possibly the resurrection of some terrible war-time memory that he had long since buried, of course he would be feeling helpless and out of control; and no doubt angry at himself in consequence. The last thing he would want to do is to tell his own partner about feeling like he was losing his mind. He nodded slowly.

"So, you came here to get some peace and quiet, and try for some peace of mind as well. Has it been working?"

"There is peace and quiet here, but the trouble with the mind…you cannot leave it behind, and it never shuts up!"

"What did they do to you, Illya? What have you been going through?"

"I..I can't Napoleon, I'm sorry, but I can't."

"Reliving memories you thought were long gone?"

"Over and over and over again…Napoleon I can't…they went away once, a long time ago but now they are back. They're back and it keeps happening over and over, right in front of my eyes. I saw it once and I thought I could never forget it…but I found ways to make it go away and after a while I started to forget for a bit…I haven't thought about it for over twenty years and now it's back again. They brought it back to me and made me remember and it is not just stuck in my memory Napoleon, its stuck here, right at the front! The images are so clear it's like it happened this morning, and it won't go!"

Napoleon leaned forward and placed his hands on Illya's shoulders.

"Alright. Listen to me Illya. Think about THRUSH. Think about it, my friend. How do you feel about THRUSH?"

A line appeared between Illya's eyes.

"How do you think I feel? I want to destroy every last one of them, grind them into powder! I Hate THRUSH! You know I do, why the question?"

"Because, my friend," Napoleon said, looking his friend in the eye. "Their ultimate goal with this machine is to destroy your loyalty for UNCLE and give you a new allegiance."

"By making me relive my worst memory over and over again? Knowing that they are responsible? By taking away memories and leaving me with a huge dark space in my head that feels like its growing? I'll never join THRUSH. I'll die first!"

Napoleon closed his eyes, steeling himself to say what he knew he must, but hating himself at the same time for saying it.

"Illya, it makes no difference to them right now whether you join them or not. They have already won. You remember when you hit me yesterday? The question I had just asked you?"

Illya remembered. All too well.

"You asked me if they had broken me. They didn't. I never told them a thing."

Napoleon shook his head.

"Illya, you're missing the point. They didn't ask you anything did they? They weren't trying to make you talk. They wanted to make you leave UNCLE. And you did, so THRUSH have won. You caved in to them, Illya. They have beaten you. The answer to my question was yes. They did break you. They broke your spirit. You're not back at headquarters, fighting to get mission ready again. You're here, wallowing in self-pity and letting THRUSH get away with it."

For a split second, Illya wanted to punch Napoleon a second time, before common sense kicked in and his head dropped.

He sighed.

"I am so tired of it all Napoleon. Is it wrong to want a bit of peace for once in my life?"

"Of course not, Illya, but are you willing to pay such a high price for it?"

"You want me to come back to UNCLE with you don't you?"

"Yes. So we can see what if any damage has been done and see what we can do to help you recover."

"Napoleon, will you answer me one question?"

"Of course, if I can."

"I told you that THRUSH's machine took memories away as well as bringing some back?"

"Yes, You described it as a dark space that felt like it was growing?"

"Yes." Illya was starting to shiver now. "Napoleon, please tell me what happened to my wife Elinor and my son Dimitri?"