Mysterious

by M. Willow

Trapped. No way out. Napoleon and Illya have never faced anything like this.

7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

The world was spinning as Napoleon Solo opened the pod and climbed out. He closed his eyes as he leaned against his former prison. Now he knew how Illya felt on ships.

It took a moment, but finally the spinning settled. He was in a dimly lit room the size of a small kitchen. There were eight pods in all, arranged in a circle. They resembled sport cars, but that's where the similarity ended. Each of them contained a screen that showed a movie that never stopped. This movie was still in his mind.

He trembled as he struggled over to the pod on his left. He barely had the strength to stand, so he leaned against it. All the conditioning they had endured, but it had done nothing to help him escape.

"You can do it, Tovarish. Just keep trying."

Quickly checking his pockets and shoes, the latter sent him toppling to the floor, where he threw up last night's dinner. They'd taken everything. He was unarmed and that wasn't good considering how weak he felt. Maybe it was best to rest for a moment. Hopefully they hadn't noticed his escape. He didn't see any cameras, but it didn't mean they weren't there. At any moment he could find himself back in the pod. Another dose of that stuff and his escape would nearly be impossible.

Leaning his head against Illya's prison, Napoleon let his mind wander back to the beginning.

Robert Scott was a chemist who worked in the science section at UNCLE New York. His specialty was the development and analysis of chemical compounds.

Before transferring to the New York office, Scott had lived a solitary existence. In his forties, he'd never married, never had a serious relationship. He was a man devoted to the betterment of mankind. He was fiercely protective of UNCLE and believed in their principles. Then he met Arden Kirk, the receptionist at headquarters, and his world changed. Within months they were planning their wedding, but she died in the parking garage at headquarters, a victim of a Thrush infiltration to steal a gun prototype.

On the day she died, Napoleon had met with her in his office. They had once had an intense relationship that died out years before Robert Scott came along. She, however, wanted to resume the relationship, which came as a surprise to him as he believed she was in love with Scott.

It got ugly when he refused her. Napoleon was a married man—married to UNCLE. He had been hurt in relationships before and had no intention of it happening again. He was a man accustomed to casual dalliances. He was upfront from the very beginning with her. And yet he'd been tempted. She was the woman who could have made him change his mind, but it wouldn't have been fair to her. If not UNCLE, it would have been something else equally as dangerous. She needed a predictable man, someone who would be happy in suburban life with a couple of kids, a home and a dog. He was not that man.

That's what he told her. She accused him of being in love with April and stormed out.

Illya found him a few minutes later sitting in their shared office and looking like his world had just fallen apart. He suggested coffee at a local diner and that's where they were when it happened.

Eight people died in all, including the Thrush attackers. He and Illya arrived at the moment one of the Thrush fired a shot at Arden. He saw her collapse to the ground while he and Illya managed to kill the attackers. Then Illya went over and attempted to staunch the bleeding by applying pressure to her abdomen, but it was of no use. She was already dead. Dead and he blamed himself. If he'd taken her back, maybe things would have ended differently. A thousand times he'd gone over their last conversation. Perhaps he could have done something to soften the rejection.

Robert Scott blamed both of them. He believed they could have saved Arden if they had done their jobs correctly. He demanded to know why two highly trained enforcement agents couldn't save the woman he loved. He implied that they didn't care. Even Illya wondered what he could have done differently. The whole thing was ugly.

Waverly ordered leave for Scott and spoke sternly to Napoleon when he saw him sinking into depression.

"Her death was unfortunate, Mr. Solo, but the young woman understood the risks involved when she came to work for us. We must go on with our mission to rid the world of evil. Anything less would be contrary to what she would have wanted."

Napoleon had been so clouded with grief and guilt that he'd actually considered resigning, but those words brought him around. Meanwhile, Scott apologized and went to work in the lab to find a solution for Thrush. He had Waverly's permission who felt that work would be cathartic for the chemist. He was wrong. Two months later Scott presented the fruits of his labor to Waverly and the section heads.

"It will make interrogations flawless. We will have complete confidence in the information provided," he'd said. And then he went on to describe a drug he called Dream.

Dreams occurred mostly in stage four of the sleep cycle. Disabling a certain area of the brain allowed for the implantation of a different sort of dream, a man-made version created by Robert Scott. This was accomplished by projecting an image to the individual in the form of a movie. There was no need to be accurate in the depiction of people and places as the brain would fill in the blanks the way it does in actual dreams.

Scott gave examples such as flying without an airplane, swimming the English Channel, even if you couldn't swim in real life.

"An individual will not know they are dreaming. It's no different than real life only, in this case, I will control the dream."

By then, Scott had already tested it on himself. He bragged about having dinner in Rick's Café from the movie Casablanca. Then he asked for more money because he needed to work on improvements.

"It's not perfect yet," he had said. "Not up to my standards."

And then he explained the advantages of the drug if it were to be used against Thrush. "If an enemy was called to the office by his superior, he would not find it suspicious to be questioned by him. He would answer everything truthfully and without hesitation. There would be no need to doubt the veracity of the information gathered."

And on he went, his enthusiasm spiraling out of control. He couldn't imagine what was coming, even though it was clear to everyone in attendance.

"Absolute power ruins absolutely," Waverly finally said.

So that was it. The project was halted, and everything locked in the vault.

Scott took it surprisingly well and returned to his lab. And that would have been the end of it save for the letter.

Napoleon was certain Arden had originally planned to mail it to him as it was dated a week before her death. She had most likely come to his office after deciding to see him in person instead. At any rate, Scott found it tucked in one of her books. It was a full confession of her love for Napoleon. If the chemist had ever believed Arden loved him, it ended after he read the letter.

Scott came charging into the cafeteria the day Napoleon was having lunch with Illya. He threw the letter on the table and demanded an explanation. Napoleon read it quickly, but there was nothing to say. She'd said it all. The next thing he knew Scott was sailing across the table, throwing punches that he easily avoided.

The man ended up on the floor in front of an audience who laughed. Then Scott got up and spoke the words that Napoleon would never forget. "You'll know how it feels."

And then he walked out.

A clear threat to the CEA was taken seriously. Waverly dismissed Scott the same day and ordered enhanced deprogramming. This version was like a cross between the original deprogramming where information about UNCLE remained in the brain, but could not be retrieved, and Capsule B, which erased memories.

Napoleon didn't attend, but Illya did and checked for contact lenses as they'd once been used to bypass the procedure. Scott again issued his threat, then took the pill and completed the hypnotic procedure. He seemed calm when he walked out. Illya accompanied him to the parking lot and was treated like a former coworker. The procedure had left him with memories of people, but no knowledge of job functions or anything sensitive to security. The memory of the letter and Napoleon's history with Arden had been removed. He believed Arden had been struck by a car on the way to work.

Even then, Illya had been concerned. The procedure had been experimental at best.

"He can't remember how to recreate projects he can't remember, Illya," Napoleon had said when his partner brought it up. "Besides, why would he bother? You and I are just former coworkers."

Jason Grier was the first victim. He'd been lucky. He was the only one to wake up. There were ten agents in all, but only eight had survived. The other two had died in stage 4 sleep, proving that dreams were indeed deadly when created by a mad scientist. An autopsy revealed that their deaths were due to heart attacks.

An attempt was made to wake one of the other agents, but this ended unsuccessfully and had nearly cost the agent his life. So, there were eight agents currently connected to feeding tubes, in stage 4 sleep, dreaming as they lay in the infirmary, courtesy of Robert Scott, who'd joined Thrush, and obviously remembered everything.

It was reasoned that Jason had been allowed to wake up as a message for them. He'd wanted UNCLE to know what was happening. Now, they were in a race against time to find the drug so that an antidote could be made for the enforcement agents who were still fighting for their lives. They had an impossible task—find Scott, allow him to use the drug on them, and wake up.

Waverly brought in dream experts to help with the task. Meanwhile all missions were suspended and every agent, other than Napoleon and Illya, were ordered to stay at headquarters. No one was safe with Dream.

They knew two things—Scott's memories were intact, and he was coming for his revenge against the two men he hated most.

In preparation for the mission, Jason was asked to recount his dream. His report was remarkably detailed all the way down to the color of the imposter Waverly's tie. He had been assigned to a night club in Chicago called The Satin Doll. He reported seeing a number of enforcement agents there but was told not to interact with them. After a few days, he was recalled to headquarters where he was debriefed. No mention was made of the mission that had brought him to the club, but he was asked about all of his missions over the last six months. He'd been concerned that he'd done something wrong but didn't question it.

He woke up in his car outside of headquarters. The pattern was repeated with all ten agents only they were found in various parts of the city.

He and Illya were not only subjected to the usual UNCLE conditioning, but also received a hypnotic suggestion that would trigger them to wake up. In this case it was a bottle of wine. Made sense considering they expected to end up in a nightclub. It didn't work. He had ended up in Dracula's castle and although he'd seen a bottle of wine, it had done nothing to trigger him to wake up.

It was seeing April die a fiery death that did the trick. It was horrific. From the moment he'd stepped into the fireplace, he'd realized his mistake. The flames had risen all around them, catching their clothes quickly, only he didn't feel any of it. April did. Her screams would forever haunt him even though it had only been a dream.

Napoleon was screaming when he woke up in the pod. The movie was still playing and filling the entire front screen. The castle and people looked like cartoon images. It was crazy that it had seemed so real only moments before, but that's how it worked with the drug. First, he'd received an injection of Dream, and then he'd been pushed into the pod where the cartoon movie waited. He recalled going under with the movie playing in a continuous loop. The next thing he knew he was sitting in Waverly's office lamenting the passing of Arden.

Scott had created his version of events where Napoleon had been desperately in love with her. He'd put ideas into his head that were not his. One day he was going to have to try to distinguish his thoughts from Scott's manipulations. April was his platonic friend in real life, but it didn't seem that way in the dream.

Napoleon rubbed his chin. It was smooth, which meant he hadn't been kidnapped that long ago. He had been taken as he was shaving in his penthouse apartment.

"Time to put an end to it," Napoleon said, rising from the floor.

Napoleon reached the door and gave one final look back at the pod that was his partner's prison. "Come on, Illya. Fight it. You can do it."

Then he walked out the door.

MFU*MFU*

Napoleon reached the end of the corridor and headed up the stairs. He knew where he was—a three story building about thirty minutes from headquarters. It was in an abandoned business complex that he'd seen many times. There wasn't a single soul in sight, but he had a feeling Scott was somewhere in the building. He hoped he was right. Otherwise, they would have to start all over.

Napoleon moved cautiously. The silence was unnerving, reminding him of the road to the castle. Where was everyone, he wondered. He recalled seeing at least twenty people standing around with champagne flutes in their hands when they arrived. That was outside the pod room. He and Illya had been too busy putting on a show of resistance for him to get a good look at them, but he recognized at least six people before he was forced into the Pod room where they were injected and placed into the pods.

Where were they now? They were at the very top of the Thrush hierarchy which meant they had guards. He didn't see them either. A project like this would warrant lots of guards. Napoleon was just starting to wonder if he was really awake when he found them.

There were at least forty men and women lying on the floor in a room on the second floor. Some of them lay with champagne flutes next to them, others stared wide-eyed at the ceiling with plates of food beside them. There were guards too, one who'd managed to push the door open before he collapsed. They were all dead. There was food on a long table. Napoleon figured it had been poisoned.

Scott had gotten his revenge.

It never made sense that Scott would end up at Thrush. Didn't make sense that they would welcome him. He'd spent his entire career trying to destroy them. So, he'd done it to get inside the organization and lure the officials there with the CEA and Number Two of UNCLE. Brilliant! Napoleon had underestimated him.

"Make a deal with the devil and pay with your lives," Napoleon murmured as he walked over to one of the guards and took his gun. He checked it and put it in the waistband of his pants. Then he left.

He was winded by the time he reached the third floor. It was obvious that he was still suffering the effects of Dream. He was no match for Scott in his current condition. The man wasn't in shape, but right now, a butterfly landing on Napoleon's shoulder could knock him down. He had to end this. Failure meant Scott would go downstairs for Illya and the rest of the world.

Fighting for breath, he opened the door to the third floor. He saw Scott hurrying towards him with a large suitcase. The short, chubby man didn't notice him until they were almost standing face-to-face, then he put the suitcase down and stared.

"Going somewhere?" Napoleon said calmly.

This was greeted with a wide eye stare and an involuntary step backward. "How. How did you wake up? It's impossible. There's no way you could wake up." He looked around. "Illya. Where is he?"

Napoleon ignored the question. "Nothing is impossible. I spent a year in Dracula's castle so I should know."

"Oh, that," Scott removed his eyeglasses and wiped them on his jacket before replacing them on his face. "You needed a taste of your own medicine. I'm trapped in this body. It seemed only fitting for you to be trapped in a castle."

Napoleon pointed the gun at him. "Well, it's over now. As you can see, I've escaped."

"Why don't you put that gun down. You hardly need it. Look at me. I'm no match for you."

"Not on your life, Scott. Now, let's go."

"First, tell me how you did it."

"You're hardly in a position to demand answers."

Scott considered for a moment. "But I still want to know. Call it the chemist in me. Besides, I devoted decades to UNCLE before I went bad."

"You won't get answers from me, but you'll have plenty of time to consider it out where you're going." Napoleon said.

As an ex-employee of UNCLE, they would be within their rights to issue the appropriate punishment. Lives had been lost. He was a murderer. He was facing life in prison.

"Leave the suitcase there and put your hands up. Then walk slowly towards me." He pointed the gun toward the left side of the corridor. "Over there."

Scott didn't move. "Did I make it too scary. Is that what made you wake up?"

"My orders are to bring you back dead or alive. I'll let you decide," Napoleon said.

That did the trick. Scott stepped to the side and slowly moved forward as Napoleon walked towards him. Then Napoleon picked up the suitcase. Too late, he realized his mistake. A tiny needed had been imbedded on the handle. He felt the sting as it entered his hand.

Scott laughed. "Neat, isn't it. Just a tiny bit of insurance on my part."

The numbing effect of the drug flooded Napoleon's body immediately. First his hand lost all feeling, and he dropped the gun. And then the numbness traveled down his entire body. He managed to stagger over to the wall opposite Scott where he slid down it and landed on the floor, his back to the wall facing the chemist. He saw his gun lying on the floor next to him and tried to move his hand. It was no use, every muscle in his body was paralyzed. Meanwhile, the chemist made no move to go for the gun. He had all the time in the world.

"It was never my intention to hurt UNCLE," Scott said. "I still believe in the mission. Call it collateral damage. I needed them to repay my enemies. I've done that, haven't I? I would never have been able to get Thrush to send their best without your help. Who better to do it? They couldn't wait to see me question you, but I told them I needed time and sent them to enjoy the poison meal I prepared for them."

He was right. It was in the food. The food and the drink. That would account for why the guards were dead. They would never have been allowed to drink, but munching on a cookie was perfectly acceptable.

Napoleon again tried to move his hand. The gun was only a few feet away, but he couldn't manage it. His eyes were getting heavy too. He could barely keep them open. He was on his way to stage 4 sleep, the stage that paralyzed muscles to prevent injury.

"I am the lord of dreams, Solo. Now you're on my turf. The great Napoleon Solo is about to die by my hands. And here I planned to let you die slowly in that castle of mine." He laughed. "Did you know that if you die in dreams, you die in real life. I managed that with a chemical component that induce heart attacks when the dreamer is afraid. That's why I can't figure out how you woke up. You should have died before that happened."

Napoleon let his head fall back against the wall and watched as Scott casually walked over and picked up the gun.

"I didn't want to shoot you. All that blood and gore when I could simply leave and let you die in Dracula's castle. Did you like it? You can tell me if you want. I left you your ability to speak. Perhaps you'll even scream before I pull the trigger."

"Why…" Napoleon started.

"I selected this building just for my enemies. Your grave would have been undisturbed for decades. I know because I bought the building and had no intentions of letting anyone inside."

Scott laughed until tears formed in his eyes. "You and Thrush took everything from me. Arden didn't tell me about you." He shook his head. "No. Not my Arden. She confessed to one youthful indiscretion. She lied, of course. A man like you wouldn't be interested in inexperienced women. There was you and how many others? She was a slut, and I didn't know it. I spent my life waiting for a slut. But I couldn't stop loving her." He sat down next to Napoleon, placing the gun on the other side. "Do you know what it's like to love someone who didn't love you? Do you know what it's like to even be deprived of punishing her. And yet, I'm haunted. I see her dying in my mind every time I close my eyes. I think of how she waited for someone to save her, but when you and Illya arrived, nothing was done. Both of you let her die, too busy saving your precious UNCLE. Now, you, Thrush and Illya are being punished for Arden. She should be alive so that I could punish her."

The man was babbling, speaking quickly as he neared hysterics. Napoleon decided to buy some time. Maybe Illya could wake up and find him. "Is that why April was there?"

"She was there because you love her. I wanted you to watch her die. It was the only way to make you feel my pain. The only way."

"And Illya?"

"April is there too. I just added a bit of changes to suit him. But he's in the club watching April die over and over." His eyes grew wide as he looked around as if expecting to see Illya. "Unless whatever you did to wake up…"

Napoleon managed to smile. "Precisely. I woke up on my own."

"How did you do it? Dream won't allow it. Not without the antidote, and you don't have it. I didn't even bother to make one. Why should I? No, I gave you Jason back, that's it."

"So where is Illya? Is he on the other side of the door waiting?"

Napoleon was enjoying the reaction he saw cross Scott's face. The man was practically shaking.

"Even if you kill me, you're doomed," Napoleon said. "He'll come for you. And you know how he is. Can't you feel his icy stare behind you now?"

Scott jumped up and looked around.

"You didn't find April, did you?" Napoleon continued, pressing his advantage like a knife to Scott's back.

"I tried. I tried. But I didn't know where she was. She needs to die so I can stay safe."

"That won't be a problem for her. Once I'm dead. She'll come looking for you."

Scott shook his head. "No, no, no. I bought an island with that money Thrush gave me for working with them. No one will find me there."

"She will. And so will Thrush. If you're lucky, they will find you before the Russian. Either way you're a dead man."

Scott pressed the gun to Napoleon's head. "You should have stayed where I put you and died in peace. Then none of this had to happen."

Scott was rocking his body back and forwards. "You see, a man like me can't compete against someone like you. You could have had any woman you wanted, but you put your dirty hands on her. You and that Russian friend of yours made her lie to me. All of this is because of you. Now, you're still fighting to win. But I won't let you. I'll find that Russian friend of yours before he finds me. Maybe he's even downstairs in the pod. Just because you woke up doesn't mean he did too."

It was a terrifying thought. Illya would be helpless if that were true. He had to do something to give his friend time. Maybe Napoleon wouldn't make it, but his partner would live.

"He's alive and coming for you," Napoleon said, making his voice low and threatening. "Will he find you in the bathroom the way those goons of yours found me? Or will you be sitting on the beach when he finds you?"

"No, no, no. I won't let that happen," Scott shouted.

Napoleon's head lulled to the side as the castle came into view. Apparently, the pod was no longer necessary. These were the last moments of his life, but he was fighting to remain conscious.

"Open your eyes, dammit," Scott shouted. "Look at my face because it's the last one you'll ever see."

Napoleon hadn't realized that his eyes were closed. He could see the castle straight ahead.

"I think not." a voice said, competing with the howl of the wind.

Then, April was there, walking beside him and he heard a sound that was part of this world and yet part of the other. He was in two places, and desperately trying to hold on to the other, but the castle was calling to him and he kept walking.

"Napoleon, Napoleon, can you hear me?"

Familiar hands on his face. Someone worried for him. Napoleon knew this man and wanted to go to him, but April was there, right beside him. He had to keep her safe. He would not leave her there alone.

"We can't wake him, Mr. Kuryakin. He has received a more potent dose and must find his way out."

The words swam around him and floated away in the wind and fog. He was still walking towards the castle. He would be inside soon and then April would be safe. He needed to keep her safe.

Napoleon looked up as the sky darkened and lightning flashed. Something stood at the door of the castle. He could see the dark form. It moved without substance.

"Napoleon, it's Illya. You must wake up now. You are dreaming."

Illya was lying on the sofa because he wouldn't leave him. Napoleon saw him there as two men forced him from the bathroom. Then his friend was sitting beside him in the back of the van as they were driven somewhere. He was worried about Illya because he wouldn't leave him to face this alone. Now, he felt his presence and knew that his friend was safe. Napoleon couldn't leave April here alone.

"We need April, Mr. Waverly. It's the only way."

"Yes, Mr. Kuryakin. See to it."

Warm tears on his chest. A familiar scent. "I'm here, Napoleon. It's me, April. I'm here. Turn away from the castle. There's nothing there for you."

Thunder boomed so close his body quivered with the sound of it, and on he walked. The castle was calling for him. April was beside him, and yet not. He was afraid when he couldn't see her, but then she was there.

"It's Illya. Concentrate, Napoleon. See the inconsistencies, the cracks then turn around and come home to April and me."

"There's nothing there, April said. You're dreaming. Illya and I are here. You are at UNCLE headquarters in the infirmary. We need you to come to us."

There was something at the entrance to the castle, something but it went away.

"Turn away, Napoleon. Come with April and me on the Pursang. You love the sea. Turn away and you can go sailing with us."

A man shook his hand and April said he was Robert Scott. This man wasn't the thing outside the castle, but he was afraid for April. Napoleon didn't like the way he looked at her.

"Come with us, Napoleon. It's April. I'm here waiting for you. The other person isn't real."

A warm breeze surrounded him, somewhere blue skies and an endless sea awaited. But here was only the castle. He was trapped. He couldn't get April out.

"He's dying," April said. "I can feel it. He's going to end up like the others."

"I won't let that happen."

The Russian voice, so firm and determined, but he could hear the pain beneath the surface. His friend was afraid.

Napoleon saw April lying on the floor. She had stopped breathing.

"I'm here, Napoleon. It's me. April. I'm here waiting for you. Don't leave me. Please don't leave me."

"Don't leave me, my friend. Do you know how long I sought a brother?"

At once, Napoleon made his decision and watched as April disappeared and he was alone, yet not alone. He turned around and faced the turquoise sea. And then he was on the deck of the Pursang, and his two best friends were there.

He opened his eyes.

"Welcome back, my friend," Illya said.

Epilogue

He had come as close to losing his best friend as he ever had. Scott had made one mistake that saved them all. Illya was grateful for the privilege of once again joining his friend on the veranda of the Victorian house. It was nearly sunset, and the sky was orange and yellow, the October air, cool and crisp.

There was a house across the street, decorated for the season of Halloween. It never made sense to Illya to decorate your home with spiderwebs, ghouls, and vampires. It was disturbing, but more so because he knew of his best friend's recent trauma.

"It doesn't bother me, Illya," Napoleon said. He'd been leaning against the banister, looking up at the sky, but now he turned and gave him his full attention.

"It's all fading. It's certainly not affecting me the way it had when I woke up a week ago."

Illya wasn't certain that was entirely true. Robert Scott had given Napoleon a nightmare. It included one year of captivity. That could break any man.

"It's all over," Illya said. "We got the notes, the drugs, even the stuff he used to bypass deprogramming and enhanced capsule B. It's a shame we didn't come up with the antidote quickly enough to save the other agents, but this won't happen to anyone else.

Two more enforcement agents had died while they worked on creating an antidote to Dream. Napoleon had come close to being one of them.

"Look at that sky." Napoleon was again looking up at the sky. "I think I'll never get tired of looking at it."

"It is spectacular," Illya said, coming to stand next to him.

"It's a fact of nature-the sun rises, the sun sets. Simple, isn't it?"

"Yes."

Illya had reviewed the movie. Scott had copies in the suitcase, along with his notes and vials of Dream. He knew what his partner faced. He would be dead saved for the one mistake Scott made.

"I think this is why I bought this house, Illya. I bought it for the way the sun looks at sunset. It's like I knew I would need it one day."

Waverly had sent them there to rest. All three needed it.

"It is one of your better ideas," Illya said smiling.

"All my ideas are like that.

Both men laughed, then stood in companiable silence as the sun dipped beneath the horizon.

"You wanted to talk to me, Illya." It was a statement.

"How did you know?"

"April is inside making hot chocolate. She hates the stuff. She wanted you to speak to me alone."

"You are correct. I'd hoped it wouldn't be obvious."

"We know each other too well for that to be possible." Napoleon looked at him.

"Then, I shall ask. Have you seen Scott's movie?"

This seemed to take his partner by surprise. He turned his face away. "Why should I do that. Haven't I already lived it?"

His friend made a good point, but he still needed to know. Today one of the psychiatrists at UNCLE told him it was time. Napoleon was stronger now. His nightmares had stopped. He no longer cried out at night. Death had come too close this time. If he hadn't reviewed the dream movie Scott created, Illya wouldn't have known how to bring his friend back. He wouldn't have known the role April played in both their dreams. Scott had meant to use her as a weapon. It had been his way of inflicting pain on his enemies, but he'd made a mistake, and Illya had known what to do with that mistake.

"Are you okay, partner mine?" Napoleon looked worried.

Illya managed to smile. "I am now."

They each walked over and took a seat on the high-backed rattan chairs. They sat facing each other.

"I know it's getting cold. I won't mind if you want to go inside," Napoleon said.

"It's not cold. The built in-heater on the bullet proof shield around the veranda provides enough heat."

The entire house was state-of-the-art. They were perfectly safe within its walls.

"Good. I had to pull some strings to get that one added."

"We need to discuss the movie. I saw it, you know. Scott meant for you to suffer, Napoleon."

"He should have won an Oscar for that one."

"it was not without mistakes. He would have certainly lost the coveted award."

They sat in companiable silence for a while. Then Napoleon spoke. "We were suppose to die. He told me he planned to leave us there."

"I saw that. He left everything in his notes."

"How did you know to avoid the needle he put in the handle of the suitcase?"

"An observation once I saw your condition. Plus, it is what I would have done if I were in a nest of Thrush and had plans to kill them."

"Smart Russian."

"Back to the dream."

"No."

Napoleon stretched out his legs, placing his arms behind his head and leaning back. "You're not going to let it go, are you?"

"No."

"He's dead. Doesn't matter now," Napoleon said.

Illya had arrived just before Scott issued his proclamation about his face being the last face Napoleon would ever see. Illya had been faster, issuing his own proclamation before pulling the trigger.

There was a what-if in there. What if he hadn't found the dead Thrush and the guard with the gun?

"Are you okay, Illya. You look pale."

"I'm always pale. Back to your dream."

"I may as well listen. You're determined to get me to ask about Scott's mistake."

"You won't have to ask after you hear what I have to say," Illya said.

Napoleon splayed his hands and looked at him. "I would tell you about letting sleeping dogs lie, but I know it won't work."

"I'm not familiar with the statement, nor do I like dogs, so no, It won't work."

Napoleon laughed. "Okay, Tovarish. It's your show."

Illya settled back in his seat. Across the street a dog barked.

"I know you well enough to know that it still bothers you. Talking helps, so talk and then I'll tell you what I have to say," Illya said.

Napoleon seemed mildly interested. He shrugged. "I messed up. I don't like to think about it. That's all."

Illya waited a moment. He'd guessed right. His partner was blaming himself. "You didn't mess up. Scott messed up. He made a mistake."

Napoleon splayed his fingers. "You keep saying Scott messed up and made a mistake. I don't know what that means. His plan was brilliant. I wanted to die. I'm alive because of you and April. That's it. I'm not proud that I allowed myself to be manipulated like that."

"You weren't manipulated. Neither of us were. We were drugged."

Napoleon stared at him. Illya explained. "Three dreams. Two happened at a nightclub called The Silver Doll. Every agent reported that. I saw the movie. The only difference between my dream and the other agents is the addition of the apartment building across the street. And yet, I altered it. Because in Scott's version there was no mention of you. But I was clearly looking for you. After April was shot, I refused to let her die. Yes, Scott was in control because I was drugged. But I fought it until I could get out. At some point, I started to see the flaws in his movie, and I found a way out because I was ready for that way out."

Napoleon raised an eyebrow. He hadn't known about that. This was ordered by the UNCLE psychiatrist—give him time before you talk about the dreams and then tread carefully. This was him treading carefully.

"I didn't know, Tovarish. I…ah…. thought you woke up because you saw a bottle of wine. You know, our hypnotic suggestion."

"It didn't work. I was trapped like you. I was repeating the same scene over and over. It was torture because she's my friend. Scott had planned for it to go on until I died. I think you know how horrifying it must have been to watch April die."

"Yes," Napoleon said. "I do know." He pulled in a breath. "How did you manage to wake up?"

"Sheer determination to save you and April. In my mind April and I were searching for you. Nothing else mattered. Then Arden shoots April and I realized that I was fighting for both of your lives."

Illya figured he'd repeated the same sequence of events multiple times, but at some point, he made a conscious decision to get out of it. He realized there were odd things all around him—Jason playing the piano didn't seem right. In reality, he'd never played. April singing was another thing. She had a passable voice in real life, but Julie London had no reason to be jealous. So, at the point of making his escape, he did something off script. He turned his head and looked at the door and the letters that he couldn't understand. It was the strangeness of dreams that you couldn't read in them. That's what woke him up. Had it not been for that, he would have repeated the dream until he ultimately died.

"Your turn. How did you manage to wake up, Napoleon?"

"I told you. I got out with April through the fireplace. She caught fire. I…I woke up in terror. Was that Scott's mistake. He made the dream so scary that I woke up. That's what he thought."

"No, my friend, but if you listen to the rest, you will know."

"I was easily manipulated, Illya. Must we go on?"

"He is dead, Napoleon."

"And Thrush is already back in business while I sit here a shattered…" He looked away. "I know that's why Waverly wanted me to take some time off. That's why you're here and April too."

"Perhaps, but we all needed it. I've struggled with what could have happened. And April, the minute the plane landed she fell apart."

He had to struggle to get her into the car. She was hysterical, crying, sensing the danger they were in the minute the plane landed. April's psychic ability depended on distance and a close relationship to the person. On the other side of the ocean, she had been unaware of what was happening. Once the plane landed, everything changed. She'd been desperate to reach Napoleon and concerned about Illya's mental state. Her psychic ability allowed him to know that Napoleon was with her in his dream. That's how he knew to mention the yacht. Still, it had taken both of them to get Napoleon onboard it. Now, he was safe, but there was more to be done. His friend had taken a blow to his confidence. Illya needed to reassure him that he was the same man he'd always been.

"I should have been able to stop Scott, Illya. It comes down to that."

"You did stop him."

"I'm alive because you got there in time. I was putty in his hands."

"You woke up first. It was you who stopped him from leaving. If you hadn't arrived when you did, he would be off somewhere on his private island setting up his empire. We would have had a threat worse than Thrush on our hands."

Napoleon opened his mouth, then closed it.

"You are the reason we have the antidote and six agents are alive," Illya added.

They had destroyed the drugs and all of Scott's notes. They even found the chemical he'd created to bypass deprogramming and enhanced Capsule B. This was all due to Napoleon.

"Listen to me, my friend. You were never putty in Scott's hands. From the very beginning of the dream, you were in control."

"How do you figure that. I was going along with it like I was some actor in a movie following a script."

"Then you didn't go by the script. You…how do you say it, ad- libed it."

Napoleon looked confused. Illya continued. "I saw the movie. It starts with you and April in a meeting with Waverly. And then you're on the way to the castle on the road. But here's where you threw the script out. April never entered the castle. She died on the road to it. She fell off the hill despite your efforts to save her."

Napoleon stared at him. "That's impossible. She was there the whole time. I saw her in the castle. It's true I lost sight of her on the way to the castle, but then…she went in with me. Then we were trapped, and she was dying. I was determined to keep her alive. I was obsessed with it and didn't give a damn about anything else. I kept thinking you were going to get there and save her. That's what kept me going."

"You were meant to die in the dream. Grief at her passing, but Scott wanted you to suffer before you died. He wanted you to want to die."

"Payment for Arden? That's why the odd plot," Napoleon said. "April and Arden don't favor. The whole thing was impossible."

"Yes, that was his intent. He wanted you to suffer the depression he suffered after Arden's death. But you didn't just change the script; you kicked the hell out of it and created an entirely different reality. The psychiatrists were quite impressed that you managed it."

"She was the reason I kept living, Illya. I was ready to give up That's what Scott did to me."

"And if you had given up, I believe you would have died," Illya said.

"There was something else, I kept feeling like you were beside me. A few times I thought you were actually sitting next to me."

"And I was. Only it was the pod next to you," Illya said. "Your subconscious mind recalled seeing them put me inside of it."

"I knew you wouldn't just give up on us. I was waiting for you to save April."

"And you were right. I didn't give up. Also unscripted because Scott didn't give me a mission. I gave myself one and that was finding you. I was ready to give up everything to do it. April and I talked about a life on the run, but neither of us were giving up even if Waverly ordered it."

Neither spoke for a moment. Then Napoleon broke the silence. "Now I think I know what you meant about Scott's mistake. It all makes sense now."

Illya stretched his legs out. "Yes. He made a mistake. If he hadn't made it, neither of us would be here. And the world would be in big trouble."

They heard footsteps and April appeared in the doorway a moment later. She was holding a tray filled with three steaming mugs of chocolate and a saucer of fresh-baked cookies. Illya's mouth watered.

"Hot Chocolate, April?" Napoleon said, reaching for a cup from the tray.

"Ah, with a little something added. You know how I hate it plain."

Napoleon laughed. Illya took a cup and a cookie. He bit into the delicious butter cookie and practically closed his eyes as he savored the flavor. "Delicious," Illya said. "You should make these more often." He took another bite.

"Don't get any ideas that I'm one of those baking type of women." She smiled. "I've no intentions of leaving UNCLE to bake cookies. I did it because I needed to relax." April sat down in the other chair.

"And to give us time to talk," Napoleon added.

She nodded. "That too. Did it work?"

Napoleon smiled. "As if you didn't know."

Illya loved moments like this. The three of them, sitting on the veranda of the Victorian house. Scott had been observant of their close relationship. That is what ultimately led him to use April for his revenge. He knew no other woman could elicit the desired response in both men. He wanted them to hurt the way he had when he lost Arden. He got his wish. Illya had been devastated when April was shot in the dream. He felt every moment of the pain even now. He had believed that April was dying. But that gave him the determination to save her. It had done the same in Napoleon's dream. How easily the plan could have failed had Scott chosen someone other than April.

"I would like to propose a toast," Napoleon said. "I finally figured out Scott's mistake."

April smiled broadly. "Good. I certainly think that's worthy of a toast."

Napoleon raised his glass. "Then to Scott's mistake. He underestimated the power of friendship, for none of us could have survived without each other."

And they raised their glasses and drank.

The End

A/N I would like to thank Cynthia W. Walker for the use of the Pursang. Ah, to go sailing with them.

Facts:

A lot of this was based on true facts about dreams. You really can't read in them due to the areas of the brain not functioning. There are a few exceptions, but I decided not to make Illya one of them.

Did you know you can't tell time on an analog clock in dreams. Apparently, the clock face will look strange. That's why the grandfather clock in the castle is never seen by Napoleon. It's also why he's not wearing a watch.

Waking up—the part about using a wine bottle as a trigger to wake up is based on real dream research. You don't need hypnosis to do it. If you're having a repeating dream, concentrate on one item seen in the dream that will let you know you're dreaming. Then you can wake up, but some people can actually stay in the dream and enjoy it.

REM sleep AKA stage 4 sleep—your muscles are really paralyzed at this stage. Ever wake up and find that you can't move? Don't worry, it's just the body protecting you and others in the room. If you're dreaming that you are the boxing world champion, your sleep mates will be grateful.

Thanks, everyone for reading. Sweet dreaming!