Illya was quite through most of the drive home. Napoleon spent the time flashing periodic glances at his partner when traffic afforded him the opportunities. He hated to admit it, but he was terribly worried about the other agent. Illya had the bad habit of disregarding his personal safety when it came to getting a job done. Napoleon feared that this character trait in his partner went undamaged in the explosion, and that the Russian would still throw himself into dangerous situations without a second thought. It was one thing for the agent to charge ahead with his sight still intact, but now that he was effectively rendered blind, Illya was less and less likely to be able to sufficiently protect himself from an attack. With Illya now feeling empowered enough to roam the streets of New York alone, there was no telling what sort of advantages THRUSH might be swayed to take. Something inside Napoleon wished UNCLE would have just kept the agent confined to medical. At least that way Illya would be safe from doing anything too stupid.

But, at the same time, Napoleon knew how talented and capable his partner was. Illya Kuryakin had been smashed, shot, drowned, and blown up dozens of times before and had always seemed to work through it and pull out of it in the end. Why should this injury be any different? When the chips were down, there was not a soul on earth Napoleon trusted more to have his back than Illya. How hypocritical would it be, then, if Napoleon failed to have his friend's back through this one ordeal that was so difficult for Illya? He should be supportive of his friend. If the agent felt he was ready to go back to work, who was Napoleon to second guess his partner's judgment? After all, the man was nothing if not a critical thinker.

Pulling up beside the apartment complex, Napoleon announced, "Home sweet home."

Illya turned his head towards his window, trying to envision the building. "Your side or mine?" he asked.

"Yours."

Illya nodded and confidently opened his car door. He exited the car saying, "Thanks for the ride."

Napoleon leaned over into the passenger's seat so he could be heard. "I'll pick you up tomorrow then?"

"That would be helpful, yes."

"Fine," Napoleon nodded, "See you then!" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Napoleon regretted them.

Illya pinched his lips together in a repressed grimace. He simply nodded curtly. "Yes," he said pessimistically, "see you then."

Napoleon shook his head in self punishment, trying to retract the words, "Illya-"

The other agent held up a hand in rebuttal. Then with a slight wave of that hand he said, "Forget it, Napoleon. I know that's not what you meant." Then he closed the car door and tried to look confident as he made his way towards his apartment building. His cane hit something solid at about shin level. Illya coolly sidestepped to avoid the object and was soon walking through to main entrance. He noticed that Napoleon didn't pull away from the curb right away but waited until after Illya had successfully entered the building.

Illya walked through the quiet lobby. No one was ever in the lobby except to pass through, yet there were always chairs and coffee tables sitting around just in case. Illya always thought that was odd. Why spend money on furniture pieces no one ever used? It was another strange American custom which the Russian still had yet to understand. He chuckled to himself. It seemed as though volumes could be filled with such confounding differences between the two cultures.

He felt along with his cane until he was sure he was facing the elevators. He didn't prefer to use elevators; ambushes were too easily achieved in them. But the stairwell might be too dangerous an obstacle to face right now. There were pros and cons to each possibility. For a long time, he stood and debated his options.

As he was deliberating, his breath caught in his throat when he heard the unmistakable sound of the building entrance opening…and closing. He waited, as still as a statue, and his ears strained to pick up any signs of movement. There were none. Whoever just entered was standing in the same place, presumably right by the door. That was odd. No one ever just stood in the lobby.

Illya knew something was wrong, but what could he do? His mind started spinning to define the crisis. The first question would be, who is this person? A friend would have identified themselves by now. An innocent bystander would have continued along their way, unless something shocking or threatening stopped them in their tracks. Perhaps that was possible, but it was hardly probable. However, if it were a foe, he could be holding that single position for any number of reasons. He could be taking photographs of Illya for some reason. Or he might be meticulously aiming some new and sensitive weapon. Illya could be a sitting duck at that very moment.

The agent and the stranger stood frozen in silence. Illya's hand slowly moved upward to reach inside his jacket and grasp the concealed weapon underneath. Illya didn't pull the gun forth, but just held it, waiting for the stranger to make a sound and betray his location…but he didn't.

More time ticked by and neither person made any further move. Then…Illya heard the door open…and close again. With a stern expression, Illya's mind raced to decode the meaning of the sound. It was a puzzling and certainly surprising change of events. Either, the second opening and closing of the door meant that the stranger had left the building, or had been joined by a second intruder. If the latter were true, then both mysterious persons were continuing to be extremely quiet, not moving a muscle. If the former scenario were true, then Illya had to wonder what cynical meaning could possibly be behind such a strange encounter. But…Illya's mind slammed on the brakes…both scenarios could be false, and the stranger could still be in the room, simply opening and closing the door just to confuse Illya.

The agent's hand continued to grasp the gun firmly as he called, "Hello?"

…No answer.

"Someone there?" Despite his heightened sense of danger, Illya's voice was strong and steady as it reached into the darkness for an answer.

Still, the room made no reply. Illya tried to detect any sign of another person in the vicinity. Did the room feel fuller of substance? No…not particularly. He listened to the air circulating through the lobby. If someone were in there, they were even breathing quietly because the agent's trained ears couldn't make out any distinctively human noises.

Perhaps whoever it was just left. Illya was not settled by this conclusion, but he had no other choice but to move on.

He opted for the stairs, knowing that there were few things more ill-advised for him to do at the moment than to walk into a small enclosed space without being able to provide much security for himself. At least on the stairs he would have more room to maneuver and possibly fight. He turned and found the entrance to the stair case. Illya kept his hand on the handrails and carefully counted each landing he reached. When he had made it up two flights, Illya was hardly surprised when he heard the entrance to the staircase open and close again. Shortly thereafter, slow, calm steps started to echo through the stairwell. Illya was being followed.

He coolly made his way up the last flight of stairs and then entered into the connecting hallway. Now comfortable with his surroundings and sure of his way, Illya's march down the hall was swift as he tried to round the first corner before whoever was following him made it out of the stairwell. He turned left down a second hallway, then he broke into a near trot, passing the entrance to his apartment and continuing on until he turned down a third hallway.

Illya swerved and dodged through a maze of hallways, never once losing his bearings or forgetting his path. He kept walking until he stopped hearing the footsteps behind him. Then he used the northern staircase to go down a level. He copied his path from the above floor only in reverse, knowing that the layout of both levels was identical.

Then, quietly and cautiously, he entered the first staircase again. Listening carefully, Illya heard no signs of anyone else in the stairwell. After a few minutes of waiting, just to be sure, Illya finally started to ascend the stairs a second time.

Confident he had lost his follower, Illya walked calmly down his hallway, dragging his hand along to wall to count the doorframes. He reached into his pocket when he arrived at his apartment, and then, he froze. It was faint, it was almost undetectable, but it was undoubtedly there nonetheless. Illya heard a breath. Someone was in that hallway with him.

Without hesitation, Illya smoothly grabbed his weapon and spun around, angling the gun at precisely where he had heard the breath. "Who are you?" he demanded.

The stranger cleared his throat. "Pretty good aim for a blind guy," he said.

Illya immediately lowered his gun, a look of exasperation on his face. "Napoleon, you idiot. I could have killed you."

"And ruin this suit? Even you wouldn't dare," the suave agent replied.

Illya sighed and holstered his weapon.

Napoleon was leaning coolly against the wall. With a jerk of the shoulder, he shoved himself off of the wall and took a step towards Illya. "Where have you been, anyway?" he asked, "I've been waiting for about five minutes now."

Illya finally retrieved his keys as he answered, "I was being followed and-" at that moment, everything started to click. Even with his eyes concealed, the realization was evident on Illya's face. He heard his partner give a guilty sigh that confirmed his suspicions. Illya leaned his head to one side in disappointment, "Oh Napoleon…" he chided with mild frustration.

"You know you're not as easy to tail as you used to be. How can that be?"

Illya turned and unlocked his door, "Believe it or not Napoleon, when it comes to the art of detection, some senses are even more reliable than that of sight." With that, he shoved the heavy door open and both agents entered the apartment.


I really liked writing this chapter! Illya's being a bit paranoid and somehow I find that really amusing! I had fun trying to write this, keeping Illya's UNCLE intuition intact while forbidding him from seeing the possible danger. It was fun and I hope you enjoyed reading it!

-Monker