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By Ruth Petroni

Copyright 1999 

By: Ruth Petroni
 

This is the third story in the Partner’s series. It is set early in the partnership of Napoleon and Illya. You don’t have to have read "Partners" or "The Warehouse Affair" to read this story.

  Chapter 1

Napoleon Solo was not used to the feeling of fear, but this was different, this wasn’t fear for himself. This was fear for his partner. His partner who in saving Napoleon’s life, may well have cost himself his own.

Their mission had taken them far into the back hills of Mexico. They had been traveling the back roads for a week before they finally managed to locate their contact and take possession of a microdot.

Their troubles began when their jeep broke down one hundred miles from the renzdevous point. There were closer towns but they were dangerous. They were in an area controlled by Thrush and if they went into these towns for help, they were just as likely to be executed as anything else.

The only good side in all of this was that the jeeps had been well supplied. There were backpacks, sleeping bags, medical supplies and plenty of food and water. So although walking out didn’t thrill either one of the partners, at least they were well prepared for the trip.

The two men had been walking together in a comfortable silence for a couple of hours when Illya glanced over at his partner, "Napoleon, I’ve got a question for you." He said with a half smile on his face. "A few months ago, when we were in that warehouse, you said that you’d had five partners before me. What happened to them?"

Solo looked at him strangely for a second, "Why do you want to know?"

Illya laughed, "I’m just trying to figure out where we’re headed."

"Hopefully to the rendezvous point."

Illya stopped walking and turned to his partner, "Come on Solo, give. I want to know."

Napoleon looked at him with a wry grin on his face. "Well, two of them didn’t work out at all. They ended up leaving U.N.C.L.E. completely. They weren’t suited for this type of work."

"Okay," Illya responded, "That leaves three, what happened to them?"

Napoleon didn’t meet his eyes as he answered; "Do you really want to know?" His partner nodded. Solo’s grin turned to a grimace, "Let’s just say no one was lining up to partner with me before you showed up, okay?"

Illya didn’t even pause, "Well, I have no intention of relinquishing the job anytime soon."

Solo’s grin returned, "Good."

With the conversation over, they began walking again.

"You know it would be a lot easier," Illya said quietly, "If we could have someone come get us."

"That would be a little to easy, don’t you think?" Solo replied. "They don’t dare risk any more aircraft in the area, Thrush has shot three down in the last month."

"Napoleon, do you know what’s on this microdot? Why it’s so important?"

Solo looked at his partner for a second; "I have absolutely no idea. All I know is that Mr. Waverly said we had exactly two weeks to take possession of it and get it to him. That leaves us with seven days to get to New York."

The partner’s continued to walk with very little conversation until an hour before dark. They began looking for the best place to set up camp for the night. They found a hollow nestled in some trees, which provided them with ample protection and the ability to build a small fire.

They had become so attuned to each other that neither one had to ask the other what to do. They just got to work setting up camp. Getting a fire and dinner going and getting settled for the night.

They had a good dinner, were relaxed and had settled back in their sleeping bags when

Napoleon turned to his friend, handing him his ever present flask; "Illya, tell me about Russia. What was it like living there?"

A slight grimace passed over the young Russian’s face as he took one small sip. "You mean in comparison to the U.S.?"

"Yes." His partner replied, accepting the flask back and putting it away.

Illya seemed to contemplate his answer. "We had a lot less freedom there." Everything was set out for you. You didn’t make decisions on your own. You didn’t make plans on your own. The Government totally controls your life. Where you live, where you work, everything."

Solo thought about his friend’s statement for a second, "Would you ever want to go back?"

Illya stared at him as though debating with himself what he was going to say; "I don’t think so. I’ve gotten used to too many of the freedoms here." He lowered his eyes, "And there are one or two things I think I would miss too much."

His partner was grinning broadly, "What things?"

"Napoleon go to sleep. Your ego is big enough already without me helping it." Illya laughed quietly before lying back down and closing his eyes.

Solo looked at him for a few seconds, smiling then laid back down and fell asleep.

Napoleon wasn’t sure what it was that woke him. As his eyes opened and adjusted to the dark he saw a figure standing over his partner, holding a gun. "Illya," He yelled, leaping from his sleeping bag.

A voice came from behind him, "I wouldn’t."

Solo looked back, there was another man standing there with a rifle pointed at his head. He froze but only for a second, diving at the man and knocking his feet out from under him. He and the man rolled over three times, the rifle coming loose. Napoleon grabbed it, jumping to his feet pointing it at the man. "Freeze." He yelled.

"You freeze Mr. Solo," Came a voice from the direction of his partner.

Napoleon looked over; Illya had never made it out of his sleeping bag. The other goon was leaning over him, the end of his rifle held in the young Russian’s mouth.

"I don’t really care if you kill my partner Mr. Solo, can you say the same?" The man snarled at him. "You have three seconds, then I pull the trigger."

Solo looked into his friend’s eyes; he could see them desperately trying to convey a message. But, it was a message he knew he couldn’t follow. He slowly lowered the rifle to his feet, raising his hands over his head and walking towards the other man.

"Good choice Mr. Solo." The man laughed, then looked at his own partner, "Get on your feet idiot and get something to tie them up."

The other man jumped to his feet, grabbing his rifle. Without looking at his partner he walked up behind Napoleon and swinging the rifle butt hit him hard in the back of the head. Solo hit the ground in a heap, his world going dark.

Illya had been struggling against his ropes for thirty minutes before he heard a low moan coming from his partner. "Napoleon," he whispered quietly, "Can you hear me?"

Solo moaned again, raising his throbbing head from his partner’s shoulder. He tried opening his eyes but the world was swimming, so he closed them again and lay his head back down.

"Napoleon, come on, wake up." Illya nudged his partner gently, "Are you okay?"

Napoleon opened his eyes again and raised his head back up, hitting it against the tree he was tied to. "Ouch." He turned to look at his partner who was tied beside him, "What happened?"

"The big oaf didn’t appreciate you taking his gun away from him, he hit you from behind." Illya’s expression was granite but you could see the concern in his eyes. "You’ve been out over a half hour, are you alright?"

"Fine, what did I miss?" Solo opened and closed his eyes a couple more times, his vision finally straightening out.

"Not much, they’ve been waiting for you to regain consciousness so they can talk to you about the microdot. I think I’ve convinced them I know nothing about it." Kuryakin turned his head enough that Solo could see the fresh bruise on his cheek and the black eye forming. "Why in the hell did you drop the gun, that idiot wouldn’t have shot me!"

"I wasn’t prepared to take that chance. We’ll have another opportunity." Solo was scanning the area. The two men were about twenty yards away, sitting around their campfire, eating their food. "You wouldn’t happen to have any handy little toys we could use on these ropes?" He looked his friend up and down.

Illya grinned at him; "I’ve got a knife in my left heel if we can get to it."

Solo looked back in the direction of the two men and saw they had realized he was conscious. They stood up, one of them reaching down to pick up a rifle and both came walking in his direction.

The one holding the rifle stopped dead three feet from Illya pointing the rifle at his head. The other one walked over to Napoleon knelt down and untied the ropes holding him to the tree. "Move it Solo," he said.

Napoleon stood up gingerly making out that he was a little more injured than he really was. He had taken three steps forward when the man reached over and backhanded him hard, knocking him to the ground.

"I want that microdot," he said nastily.

Napoleon looked up at him from the ground, "What microdot?" Solo stood back up, walking a few steps towards his partner. The man turned, hitting him again, he made sure which direction he fell this time, landing on Illya’s feet and staying down for a few seconds, pretending he was hurt.

He easily pulled Illya’s left shoe off, sliding it under his own body up towards his partner’s hand.

"Up Solo," the man with the gun said, "Now."

Napoleon rolled over and stood up, careful to keep his body between the two men and their sight of Illya. He began walking in the direction of the campfire. Both men followed behind him.

Illya waited only until both men had their backs to him and reached down, stretching for the shoe and pulling the heel off to pull out a knife. Nobody was watching him; both men were closing in on his partner.

Solo was concentrating on keeping both men’s attention on him. He walked in the direction of the man carrying the gun, and then turning quickly went back towards the man’s partner. He realized they were both getting closer and that the one carrying the rifle, had it up and pointed at him. He froze.

"Okay, Mr. Solo," the man’s partner walked over to him, grabbing him by the arm, "You have two choices, you give us the microdot now and we let you live. Otherwise, my friend is going to start shooting. He can put quite a few holes in you before you die. Then we’ll search your body and take the microdot anyway."

Hearing a noise, Napoleon glanced quickly in the direction of Illya, he was working on the last rope. The man with the rifle saw his look and began to turn in the direction of his partner. Solo took the opportunity to jump the man holding his arm, swinging a roundhouse punch as hard as he could, knocking the man flat.

The man with the rifle turned instantly towards him, swinging the gun like a club he hit Solo a grazing shot on the side of the head, which on top of his previous injury put him on the ground, dazed.

Stunned, he waited for a bullet that never came. "Run Napoleon!" He heard through a haze, as two bodies hit him. Illya had tackled the man with the rifle from behind. Solo stood up as quickly as he could, turning to help when he heard it again.

"Napoleon, get your ass out of here, now!"

Solo, still dazed took off running into the woods, slipping and sliding on the dew covered leaves. He’d been running for less than a minute when his foggy brain noticed that his partner was not beside him. He stopped suddenly, his right foot sliding on the wet ground. Losing his balance completely he went off the side of a small hill, hitting his head on a rock jutting out from the hill and that was all he knew.

Chapter 2

Napoleon had no idea how long he had been unconscious, he opened his eyes slowly, the pounding in his head making him nauseous. He shook his head lightly trying to clear his vision, "Illya." He called out quietly, then again a little louder, "Illya," he yelled, his partner was no where around.

Looking up he saw that he’d fallen down a hill that wasn’t very steep. He crawled swiftly back up and headed in the direction of the camp. It was deserted, there had been a major struggle, he could tell by the marks on the ground, but there was no sign of either man or his partner. The only thing that made him feel better was there was no body lying in the campsite. His friend was still alive.

Searching the camp he did find his own backpack, still lying against the back of a tree where he had left it. Checking the contents he found it contained a small amount of food, water and a complete first aid kit. He searched the camp looking for any kind of a weapon, there were none.

Illya’s backpack was on the ground near his sleeping bag. It was also untouched, he moved as many of the contents as he could to his own pack then throwing it over his shoulder began tracking his partner.

It took him two hours to catch up to the three men. They were walking along the road. He crept in as close as he could to them, seeing his partner being literally dragged between the two men. Illya was bound hand and foot so Solo knew he would be of no help. He followed along behind them waiting for any opportunity to present itself so that he could free his friend.

Napoleon had finally gotten tired of waiting and decided to go ahead and try, when he heard some vehicles approaching fast. Scanning the road ahead, he saw three jeeps carrying a total of six men. The jeeps stopped in front of the two men. They threw Illya roughly into the back of one of the jeeps, jumped in and drove away before he could even move.

Napoleon ran up to where the jeeps had been, checking the tire tracks for anything unusual, he was grateful to see a slice mark in one of the tracks. At least it wouldn’t be difficult to follow them. He began a steady fast walk, following the jeeps. When he was too exhausted to go any further, he found a rock on the side of the road and curling up against it, fell asleep.

When Solo woke up he realized he would have to break radio silence and report in to Mr. Waverly. They only had six days left to get the microdot to New York, which meant he would have to be at the renzdevous point within five days and if he didn’t find his partner soon, that would be impossible.

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his communicator. "Open Channel D." He said quickly.

"Yes Mr. Solo," Came the reply, "Is there a problem?"

"Yes Sir, we got the microdot but Illya’s been captured and our jeep broke down. We have to walk to the renzdevous point and it’s about one hundred miles away."

"Mr. Solo, you have no choice, you must leave Mr. Kuryakin and bring that microdot to the renzdevous point immediately." Waverly’s tone left no room for argument.

Napoleon took a deep breath; it took him only a minute to decide how to respond. "I’d like to do that sir, but Illya has the microdot. I’ll have to find him in order to retrieve it." He could almost hear Mr. Waverly’s eyebrows raise. "Sir, I better sign off in case they’re tracking us, I’ll report again when I find Illya and the microdot. Close Channel D."

Napoleon stood up and pulled the backpack onto his shoulders. He began walking swiftly, following the tire tracks. It took him six hours of non-stop walking to catch up to them.

The tire tracks led him past the front of a very strange building. It looked like an old fashioned castle, but without the moat. It was solid brick, one of the tallest buildings he’d ever seen and had a large iron door. Sneaking around to the back of the building, he discovered a smaller building that looked like a garage. The tracks came to an end at the door. It was unlocked and he was able to get inside.

The three jeeps were parked inside. He searched the jeeps, then the whole room, looking for anything he could use as a weapon. There was nothing. The only thing he could find was a large piece of wood, which he picked up to use as a club. Sneaking back out of the garage, Solo blended back into the trees deciding to wait for dark to make his assault on the building.

About a half-hour before dark, Napoleon was surprised to see six men come running out the front door, leaving it open, and tearing for the garage. A few seconds later he saw two of the jeeps being driven away. He was just starting towards the front door when the two men who had captured he and Illya came running out. They ran to the garage, starting the third jeep they followed the other two.

Not knowing why they had left so suddenly, but knowing it couldn’t mean anything good, Napoleon cautiously left the trees and headed for the door. It could be a trap, but his partner had to be somewhere in that building and if they were in that much of a hurry to leave, he couldn’t afford to wait any longer.

Holding the club at ready in case it was a trap, he slipped inside. The place appeared to be deserted. Solo quietly began searching the first floor, stopping with a look of fear when he saw the reason for the speedy withdrawal.

He found two separate bombs in the main room of the castle. Both ticking and both timers set for seventeen minutes. Knowing that if there were two, there were probably more he threw caution to the wind and yelled, "Illya!" Running through the first floor he continued to call for his partner. There was no response.

Listening carefully, Napoleon swore he heard a sound coming from downstairs. Running over to the concrete stairs he hollered again, "Illya, come on partner answer me, we’re running out of time."

"Illya!" he yelled again, this time he was sure he heard a response. Dashing down the stairs he was pleased to discover there were only two doors. One led to a small cell, it was empty. As he walked into the other one he stopped, dreading what he would find. The room looked like an old-fashioned torture chamber. There was even an old rack and manacles on the walls. Looking around he was almost relieved not to see his partner in the dimly lit room. Napoleon started to turn back around when he heard what sounded like a low moan. "Illya," he said again, walking further into the room.

Napoleon stopped dead, a look of horror on his face. The bloody, beaten body of his young Russian partner was suspended from the ceiling. Realizing he had no time left to be gentle, Solo ran to his friend, reaching overhead to release the steel manacles holding his bloodied wrists. Illya was semi-conscious and would have hit the ground if Napoleon hadn’t caught him.

Throwing his partner over his shoulder, he ignored the agonized moan that came from the younger man, and ran back up the stairs and out of the building. They barely made it to the trees before the entire building seemed to explode, sending brick and debris everywhere. Solo lay his partner down behind a tree and used his own body as a shield to protect the injured man from the deadly rubble raining down on them.

After a few minutes, Napoleon rolled slowly off his partner, trying not to hurt him anymore then he already had. Realizing it was going to be too dark to see very soon, Solo very gently lifted his partner back into his arms and walked back in the direction of the castle. Although there was a lot of damage, he was surprised to discover that three quarters of the building was still standing.

Slipping back through the empty hole that was now the front door, he found that many of the rooms were still useable. One in particular, a large bedroom was totally undamaged and a large four poster bed was still sitting against one wall. Lowering his unconscious friend onto the bed he turned to the bedside table, reaching in his pocket he pulled out matches to light the lantern that was amazingly still in one piece on the table.

Turning back to his partner, Napoleon had to wince at the damage done to the slender body. Seeing another door off the bedroom he hurried over and was grateful to find an undamaged bathroom with a small basin sitting on the counter. Filling the basin with water he grabbed towels and hurried back to his friend.

Illya’s pants and shirt were shredded beyond repair from the beating he had received. It was easy to slip them off, but Napoleon wished he hadn’t removed them when he saw the injuries to his friend. It looked like someone had used a whip on his back and a board or club on his legs. "Oh God Illya," tears came to Solo’s eyes, which he quickly blinked away. "What were you thinking?"

Using a towel soaked in water Napoleon cleaned most of the blood off his friend’s face and back. He had to refill the basin three times; the water becoming so bloody it was useless. He found a spare sheet in the bathroom and was able to tear it into strips to bandage the torn back and arms. Finished with the bleeding wounds, Solo was able to check out the lower torso.

Illya’s left leg was definitely broken, he could feel at least two breaks and knew he would need to find something to splint it. The right one didn’t appear to be broken, but the bruising was so severe Napoleon wasn’t sure if his friend would be able to put any weight on it.

Solo was just starting out the door to find something to splint his partner’s leg, when he heard a moan coming from the bed. He hurried back over to sit down next to his partner, reaching for a fresh cloth to wipe his face. "Illya, can you hear me?" He said quietly, lightly running the towel across the bruised forehead.

Illya moaned again as Solo reached into his pack and pulling out his flask, poured a small sip into the Russian’s mouth. He started to shake his head but quit with another painful moan. Opening his eyes cautiously and frowning, he glared at his partner, "What in the hell are you doing here?" He was stopped when a choking cough racked his body with pain; "You should be on your way to the renzdevous point." His voice cracked with the pain.

Solo glared right back at him not wanting to show his concern, he reached over to put a supporting arm around his friend’s shoulders and raised him to a sitting position. "I was short one over protective Russian."

Illya’s look turned to one of gratitude as the coughing let up. "Napoleon, we have what, only four or five days left to get that microdot to Mr. Waverly?" He used his arms to slide back on the bed, to lean against the wall. Wincing as his back touched the wall, a low moan barely escaped as he tried to shift his leg.

Napoleon stopped him, "I wouldn’t, it’s definitely broken. I’m not sure about the other one." He reached up to wipe the sweating brow again, "Illya, what in the hell did you think you were doing?" His face wore a look of guilt, "I figured you were right behind me. I wouldn’t have .."

"Napoleon, it was more important that Thrush not get their hands on the microdot." Illya lay his hand on his friend’s shoulder, "I know you wouldn’t leave me behind intentionally if you could help it."

"Well, I better let Mr. Waverly know what’s going on." Solo reached in for his communicator. "Open Channel D."

Waverly’s voice came right back, "Yes Mr. Solo, have you found the microdot?"

Illya’s head snapped around and he gave Solo a strange look.

Napoleon grimaced, "Yes sir, and I also found Illya." His tone was almost angry. "We’ll be starting out at first light. Can you have our signal pinpointed and give us direction and distance when I call in, in the morning?"

"Very good Mr. Solo. Channel D closed." Waverly’s voice vanished.

"Napoleon, where is the microdot?" Illya’s tone was hard.

Solo turned slowly to look at his partner. "Right where I put it before, in my tooth. Now, you relax, I’m going to find something to splint this leg." He started to stand up as a restraining arm stopped him.

"Did you tell Mr. Waverly I had the microdot?" Illya was incredulous.

Napoleon moved the arm holding him in place and standing up started towards the door, "Illya, I told you once before, you’re my partner. I don’t leave my partner behind unless there’s no other option. I wasn’t out of options." He walked out the door leaving his thunderstruck partner to stare blankly at the door.

Chapter 3

It took Napoleon over an hour to bring everything up from the old garage. In addition to finding wood to use as a splint, he had found a small axle with two wheels still attached, some additional tools, nails, wood and rope. He ignored the strange looks from his bedridden partner while he brought armload after armload of supplies up and dropped them at the foot of the bed.

After laying the last load of supplies on the floor, he walked over, picked up his backpack and sat down carefully on the foot of the bed. Reaching in the pack to pull out his canteen he handed it to his partner, "Would you like something to eat?" He asked quietly as he looked the man over, checking out the injuries.

"Napoleon, I’ve been thinking about it?" Kuryakin’s voice was firm, "I think you should take off in the morning on your own. I’ll be fine here and you can send a rescue party back for me once you’re safe."

Napoleon ignored him, reaching back into the pack for some jerky and handing it to his friend, "I have both canteens and the water is still working here so we have plenty of food and water for the trip. He reached back into the pack, pulling out the first aid kit and put a few things out on the bed. "I’m going to have to splint that leg now, do you want something for the pain?" He stood up and started to walk towards the foot of the bed.

Illya grabbed his partner’s hand, stopping him. "Napoleon, you have to listen to me. There’s no way for you to walk almost one hundred miles in four days, dragging an injured man. It’s impossible."

Solo gently squeezed the hand holding his, "Illya, I will say this only one more time. I’m not leaving you. We get out of here together, or I sit down right here with you and we can both rot. Now, do you want something for pain or should I just get on with it." His face was solid granite as he released the hand, reaching down he picked up the wood and turned back to his partner.

Illya knew there was no more point in arguing, "Just get it done." He leaned back against the wall, reaching over his head with both arms to grip the two bed posts.

By the time Napoleon had finished setting the leg, Illya was semi-conscious, still gripping the posts with all of his strength. Solo stood up and released each hand from it’s death grip before sliding one arm under the injured leg and the other under his friend’s shoulders to lay him tenderly back down on the bed. Without waiting for permission he quickly prepared and injected a shot of morphine into the bruised and battered body, then reaching down pulled a quilt over the still form.

After standing beside the bed for a few minutes to be sure his friend was all right, Napoleon moved back to the foot of the bed and went to work on his newest creation. Taking catnaps when he was too exhausted to stay awake any more, Solo managed to finish his work just as the sun was coming up and just as his wounded partner woke up. "Good morning sunshine." He said brightly hiding his worried expression as blue eyes opened slowly to look at him.

Illya groaned once as he tried to shift his aching body on the bed. "What are you so happy about?" He looked his partner up and down, "You look like something the cat dragged in, didn’t you sleep at all?"

Solo ignored the question, "Are you up to getting out of here? We need to get started before full light." He walked over to sit on the bed, reaching for the first aid kit and pulling out a syringe.

"What in the hell is that?" Illya started to shift away and stopped when the pain hit again.

"It’s antibiotic, now hold still." Napoleon leaned over his friend, holding his arm and quickly injected him with the syringe. "Are you warm enough, those are the only clothes I had left in my pack?"

Kuryakin looked down at himself and realized he was now dressed in an over sized flannel shirt and jeans. The left leg of the jeans had been slit all the way up to hold his splinted leg. Realizing his friend was trying to change the subject, "Napoleon, our first aid kits don’t contain antibiotics."

Solo grinned at him, "I know that, but I got it in you didn’t I. It was morphine."

Illya started to get angry; "I don’t need pain medicine."

Solo’s expression turned serious. "Illya, I know you’d rather tough it out, but this next bit’s going to be pretty painful. I promise, no more unless you really need it. Now, I’m going to finish loading everything else, I’ll be right back. He picked up his backpack and leaned around his friend taking all the pillows except the one he was lying on and left the room.

Illya felt the morphine beginning to kick in; he hated the fuzzy feeling it gave him. He lay there trying to think of different tortures he could inflict on his partner. He was so deep in thought he didn’t even see Napoleon come back in the room and missed what he was saying entirely. "What?" He asked fuzzily.

"I said I’m going to lift you up, once I get you settled on your carriage there won’t be any stopping us, so do you need anything before we start?"

Illya, seeing the concern in his partner’s eyes couldn’t even joke with him, "I’m ready, let’s get going."

Napoleon closed his eyes, took a deep breath and leaning down placed one arm around his friend’s shoulders and the other under his legs, lifting him up. His face was pained as he heard the moan that came from his partner. "You okay?"

Illya’s voice was thick with pain. "I’m fine, let’s just get done."

Solo, moving as carefully as he could, carried his friend out the main door of the building. Walking over to one of the strangest contraptions Illya had ever seen."

"What’s that?" Illya’s voice was slurring as he fought the pain and tried to focus. It looked like Solo had built a six-foot by three-foot platform. There was a set of wheels underneath about two thirds of the way down the platform and he had it covered with a small mattress, pillows and his sleeping bag.

"That sir, is your stretcher. Now get ready, I’m going too set you down, tell me where you hurt."

"Everywhere." Came the quick reply.

Solo threw him an exasperated look, "I mean after your settled, idiot." He walked over to the stretcher and with infinite care lay his friend down on his left side. "Okay, which pillows do we need to adjust?"

Illya tried too wiggle his body, but couldn’t feel anything through the haze of the morphine. "I can’t feel anything right now, I just want to sleep." He laid his head down and was out within a minute.

Napoleon, thankful for the pain medicine, quickly zipped his friend into the sleeping bag then using the ropes he had waiting beside the stretcher, tied him down at the legs, waist and chest. Reaching in for his communicator, he pulled it out, "Open Channel D," he said quietly.

"Good Morning Mr. Solo," Came Waverly’s voice. "I take it you’re ready to start out."

"Yes sir, we’re ready to go. Do you have our direction and distance?" Napoleon didn’t want to waste anymore time; he wanted the information and wanted to get going before Illya woke back up.

"The renzdevous point is exactly eighty three miles directly north of your position. Contact me again in two days and we will re-figure your position." Waverly’s voice was curt. "Close Channel D."

Solo knew from the tone of his boss’s voice that he would have some major explaining to do when they got home. Figuring there was no point in worrying about it now, he reached for the strap he had nailed to the top of the stretcher, near Illya's head and sliding it over his head onto his chest began the long walk.

Napoleon had been hiking hard for two hours before he decided to take a short rest and check on his partner. Illya hadn’t made a noise since he’d set out and he was beginning to become concerned. He began looking for a short tree or large rock to balance the stretcher on. It took another fifteen minutes before he found a boulder large enough to use.

Solo lifted the strap over his head and cautiously lowered the end of the stretcher to the rock, being careful to keep it level, then walked around to check on his friend.

Illya was lying there; eyes open, watching him as he leaned over. "Hi." He said quietly.

Napoleon, was just pleased to see his friend conscious, "Hi yourself. How come you didn’t let me know you were awake? Are you okay?" He reached underneath the front of the stretcher to pull a canteen out of his backpack, reaching down to raise Illya’s shoulders up so he could take a drink.

Kuryakin grimaced as his partner lowered him back down. "I’m fine. I figured you had enough to worry about without me letting you know I was conscious."

Solo looked his friend over, "How’s the pain? And don’t try to lie to me because I know it hurts like hell when we’re moving."

Illya gave him an exasperated look, "I don’t lie, I exaggerate. It’s not that bad, nothing I can’t deal with."

Napoleon reached out and gave his friend’s arm a squeeze; he had learned a long time ago that he could tell more by touch than he could from his partner’s answers. "Well, you’re not exaggerating very well. I don’t dare give you another shot. We don’t have enough for all four days as it is, we’re going to have to use it sparingly." He moved his hand up to feel the young Russian’s forehead. "At least you’re not running a temperature."

"You know, you’re worse than an Italian Grandmother. Honestly Napoleon, I’m fine. How far do we have to go?" Illya decided a change of subject was in order before his friend decided to start making chicken soup.

Solo, seeing that he might have pushed a little to far went along with it, "We were eighty three miles from the renzdevous point when we started. We’ve been making pretty good time, so I’m figuring we’ve come four or five miles, at this rate we’ll make it no problem. Shall we get going?"

"Napoleon, don’t you think it might be a good idea if you took a short break?" Kuryakin knew his friend wouldn’t listen to him, but he had to try.

Napoleon walked back around to the front of the stretcher, "Illya, I’m fine, if I rest now, I may not get going again. I promise, we’ll take a nice long lunch break. Now, settle back and try to sleep." He reached for the strap, lifting it over his head he began walking again.

Chapter 4

Two days later, Napoleon’s pace has slowed considerably. It had gotten dark about an hour before but he hadn’t wanted to stop so he continued walking until his foot hit something in the darkness and he fell to his knees.

"Napoleon," came a concerned voice from the stretcher, "It’s time to stop for the night." Illya reached over his head, trying to make contact with his partner. "Napoleon, come on find a place to park." He felt it as they started moving again. Knowing it wasn’t fair but not really caring at this point, "Solo, I need something for the pain, I can’t take much more."

The reaction was instantaneous. Napoleon had already seen a large pile of rocks in the distance. He walked slowly over to them and lifting the strap over his head, carefully lowered the stretcher to the rocks. Walking around to the head of the stretcher he leaned over his partner, "Illya, are you okay? Give me a minute to set up camp and I’ll get you a shot."

Kuryakin looked at his exhausted partner, knowing he was in trouble. "Napoleon, I’m really okay, I just didn’t know how else to get you to stop." He reached over to grip his friend’s arm. "Please, don’t be angry."

"Illya, to be honest, I’m too tired to be angry. Let me get camp set up, you can cook tonight, how’s that sound?" Solo didn’t even wait for a reply, he wandered away, looking for fuel to start a small fire and quickly got a camp set up. Lifting his partner up, he walked him over to the fire and very gently sat him down against a rock, then quickly stripped the mattress and sleeping bag off the stretcher to move it near the fire.

Illya in the meantime was busy at the fire, heating up a can of beans and opening a can of peaches while surreptitiously keeping an eye on his friend. "Napoleon, why don’t you sleep on the mattress tonight? I’ll be alright on the sleeping bag."

Solo who had finished setting up the bed, ignored the statement, walked over to the fire and leaning behind his partner, reached down to lift up the back of his shirt to look at the healing welts and sores. "Yeah, right." He snorted before walking back over to get more supplies off the stretcher.

"Napoleon, you can’t take much more of this." The concern in Illya’s voice was apparent, "You’re not sleeping or eating and you’re walking twelve to fourteen hours a day."

Solo looked at him through weary eyes, "Illya, if we keep up this pace, we’ll make it to the renzdevous point tomorrow night, a day ahead of schedule. I can sleep for a week once we’re back in New York." He reached over to take the small bowl Kuryakin handed to him. "I can do another twenty four hours standing on my head." He grimaced as he swallowed a bite of semi warm beans. "Anyhow, how are you doing?"

Kuryakin just shook his head at his partner’s single mindedness, "Napoleon, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. I’m fine, everything’s starting to heal and my leg is barely hurting."

Solo’s look turned to one of disbelief, "Illya Kuryakin, some day you’re going to go to hell for telling lies."

"Well, at least when I get there I’ll know the man who’s running the place," he said looking pointedly at his partner.

This brought a laugh, "It’s pays to have friends in low places." Grimacing again at the bowl in his hand, he handed it back to his partner and walking back over to the mattress, adjusted the pillows and pulled the blankets back, then turned to stoke up the fire. "You want a shot before I move you again?" He reached for the first aid kit, looking inside; a look of dismay crossing his face "We only have enough left for two more shots.

Illya finished cleaning up after dinner, putting the bowls back in the backpack. "Napoleon, I’m serious, the pain isn’t that bad. Let’s hold off on that shot until morning." Using his arms he began trying to push himself up onto the rock, a small moan escaping as his leg shifted on the dirt.

Napoleon rushed over, "Would you quit that, why do you have to be so stubborn?" He reached down to put an arm around his partner’s shoulders and lifted him up to his good foot then very gently picked him up, carrying him over to the mattress and laying him down. Being very careful not to jar the injured leg. Then pulled the blankets up, tucking them around his friend.

"You’re getting awfully good at this, who’s going to tuck me in when we get home?" Illya trying to improve his partner’s mood was dismayed when he saw what looked like despair cross his friend’s face. "Napoleon, it’s time for bed, please."

Solo looked at his partner for a second before climbing in the sleeping bag and adjusting his pillow, closed his eyes and was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

Napoleon had no idea how long he’d been asleep, but there was a trace of sunlight coming over the hill, when he was awakened suddenly by something hitting him in the face.

"Napoleon," Illya whispered, throwing another pebble at his partner.

Solo rolled over quickly, "What?" he whispered back.

"There’s someone in the bushes, I can hear them moving around."

Solo slid out of the sleeping bag, listening intently and hearing what sounded like footsteps in the bushes a couple of feet away. He crawled out of camp and made a small circle to get behind the sound. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dark and he could see the outline of a man with a rifle pointing towards Illya. "Illya, duck," he yelled as he tackled the figure from behind. The rifle flew forward into the camp as Napoleon rolled over twice, coming up to throw a punch at the square jaw in front of him.

Illya, using his arms, drug himself off the mattress, holding back a groan as his leg hit a rock when he moved, he grabbed the rifle and pointed it in the direction of the two figures wrestling on the ground.

Solo threw two more punches to the belly and jaw of his opponent knocking him backwards, then froze as he saw the outline of a gun being pointed at him. He braced himself, waiting for the bullet as he heard a shot and was surprised to see his opponent fall to the ground. Lifting himself off the ground he ran over to the fallen man, picked up the handgun and reached down to check for a pulse. There was none.

Walking back into camp he found Illya laying on the ground, the rifle still held in his hand. "Thanks partner," Napoleon said quietly, shoving the handgun in his waistband and walked over to kneel beside his friend. "You okay?"

They both turned their heads quickly as they heard the sound of a jeep being started and coming in their direction. Solo pulled the handgun as Illya brought the rifle back up, but they were both partially blinded as headlights came directly towards them. They both fired twice and Napoleon was just reaching to drag his partner out of the way when the jeep veered to the left and they heard a loud scraping crash.

Napoleon hopped up quickly, running over to the jeep and reached for the pulse of the driver. He was also dead. Pulling the key out of the ignition, he walked around to the front of the vehicle, thinking their problems may have been solved. Seeing the front of the jeep ruined that idea. There was a large hole through the radiator and the front axle had been knocked totally off by its collision with a rock.

Starting to turn back towards Illya, Napoleon stopped, thunderstruck, "No, dammit, no!" His face contorted as though in agony.

"Napoleon, what?" Illya could hear his friend’s voice even though he couldn’t see his face, "What’s wrong."

Solo turned and walked back over to his partner, shaking his head.

Illya was getting concerned and tried to get up to help his friend, wincing as his leg shifted positions again.

Solo seeing the motion, leaned down to stop him then lifting him up he carefully carried him back to the mattress, setting him down ever so gently and sinking down beside him. "Illya, the stretcher’s gone."

Kuryakin looked over to the jeep, realizing it was crashed right where they had parked the stretcher the night before. "Is it salvageable?" He knew the answer from his partner’s face. "Well, that makes things easier, you’ll just have to leave me here and walk out on your own."

Napoleon’s expression was pure granite, "We’ve had this conversation before, I’m not leaving you behind. We’ve got today and tomorrow to make the renzdevous point. We were well over half way last night when I checked in with Mr. Waverly. It might take us until tomorrow, but we should still make it."

"Napoleon, let’s be logical about this. You’re exhausted, I’m hurt. It makes more sense to leave me here and send someone back for me. It’s what, twenty five, thirty miles to go?" Illya was desperately trying to talk sense into his worn out friend.

Solo stopped him with a look; "I’m not leaving you. If those two found us, how do we know they didn’t let their friends know where we are. We have to get moving now." He stood up and walked over to his backpack, reaching in he began emptying out anything that was now non-essential or too heavy to carry. "We’ll take only water and jerky," he said tossing the remaining few can goods out. We’ll have to do without the sleeping bag, I just won’t be able to carry that much."

Figuring out that he wasn’t going to win this argument, Illya decided it was time to help. "Bring me the pack, I’ll finish sorting it out." He reached up as Solo brought him the pack, grabbing the gun from his friend and sliding it into the backpack. Then, pulling out the first aid kit he prepared and gave himself a half shot of morphine. "That should help." He said, sliding the backpack straps up his arms and leaning it against his own chest. "Okay, whenever you’re ready."

Napoleon reached down and using his arm pulled Illya to a standing position then lifted him into his arms. Trying to break his own foul mood he looked into his partner’s blue eyes, "You know, this would be a lot more fun if you were blonde, blue eyed and female." He smiled at his friend.

Illya smiled back at him, "Well, they say two out of three ain’t bad, right?"

They began walking again.

Chapter 5

Night was falling fast as Solo stumbled into the burned out old shack. Terrified because he almost dropped his partner when he stumbled, he hurried over to a dilapidated old cot that was leaning against one wall, gently setting Illya on it.

Kuryakin was out cold after Napoleon had forced him to take another half a pain shot thirty minutes before. His stoic partner hadn’t wanted to admit how bad the pain really was but Solo forced the issue after he was unable to hold back the moans anymore.

Solo collapsed on the floor beside the cot, laying his head on the cot next to his friend’s arm. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his communicator. "Open Channel D," he said with a weary voice.

"Yes Mr. Solo?" Waverly sounded almost as tired.

"Sir, can you please have the signal rechecked for distance?" Napoleon shook his head, trying to keep his eyes open.

"I had that done the minute you opened the channel, Mr. Solo. You are fifteen miles from the renzdevous point. However, we have had a major problem come up. You will need to be at the renzdevous point at first light; the plane will have to leave by dawn. We are expecting an attack on the village in the morning, trying to get the microdot back. We need to beat them out of town. You and Mr. Kuryakin will have to walk out tonight."

Napoleon looked at his arms; they were shaking from the strain. "Sir, I don’t know if we can do that. Illya’s hurt, I’m carrying him out and we’ve been moving since daybreak. He’s in a lot of pain and I’m exhausted."

You could hear the anger in Waverly’s voice, "Mr. Solo, exactly how long as Mr. Kuryakin been injured? No, never mind. Mr. Solo, you have no choice here, if we don’t get that microdot there will be a war that could conceivably kill tens of thousands of people. This is a direct order. You will leave Mr. Kuryakin right where you are and start out immediately. The plane will be waiting to bring you back to New York with the microdot. Once you’re out," he paused for a second, "We will send in a rescue team for Mr. Kuryakin, do you understand?"

"Sir," He started to argue, "I can make it with Illya if I get a few hours rest."

Waverly cut him off, "Mr. Solo, you will leave immediately. Close channel D!"

Napoleon closed his mouth, stopped in mid argument. He looked over at his partner, Illya’s eyes were wide open, and he’d heard the entire conversation. "You heard?"

"Napoleon, he only said what I’ve been trying to tell you. You’re out of options now, it’s time to go." Kuryakin’s expression was impassive.

Solo’s was agonized; he was unable to break eye contact with his friend. "Illya, I don’t want to leave you. What if Thrush finds you?" He stood up and was stopped as Illya grabbed his hand.

"Napoleon, you are probably the best friend I’ve ever had in my life. None of this has been your fault, now follow your orders and take the canteen and get moving. Just do me one favor." He squeezed the hand he held.

"Anything."

"As you fly over, have the pilot fire a flare so I’ll know you made it okay. I should have no problem seeing it through the skylight." He looked up at the sky through the top of the roofless shack. "I’ll be fine, I’ll see you back in New York." He dropped Solo’s hand and turned his head away so Napoleon wouldn’t see the truth in his eyes.

Napoleon lifted the backpack from his partner’s chest and reaching inside pulled out the hand- gun. "You keep the rifle. It’s almost fully loaded so you should have some protection until the rescue team gets here. I’m not taking the canteen or food, if I move fast enough it should only take me five or six hours. Hunger is a good incentive to get there."

Illya turned back, starting to argue, then seeing his friend’s face decided against it. "Good bye my friend, be careful."

"Illya." Solo’s voice broke.

Kuryakin turned his head away again, "Go!" When he turned back, the room was empty. He lay there for a few minutes, picturing the agonized expression on his partner’s face.

Napoleon would be all right; he would be back in New York in the morning and that was the most important thing. Illya knew however that there would be no rescue team, there was no way Mr. Waverly could risk sending another team into the area. They were lucky to have gotten the microdot out. It was not worth risking other lives for one man. He was thankful his friend had been so tired, he hadn’t heard the pause when Mr. Waverly talked about the rescue team.

Illya lay back on the old cot, thinking back over the months of his partnership with the young American. They’d done well together, for the first time in his life, he was sorry to see something come to an end; he would miss his obstinate, contrary, headstrong partner.

Still feeling the effects of the shot of Morphine, Illya Kuryakin relaxed into dreams of his friend their partnership and the future that might have been.

Chapter 6

Illya came out of a sound sleep; not sure what the noise was that had awakened him. He shifted on the bed, allowing a low moan to escape as his back rubbed on the rough surface and his leg twisted. He grabbed the rifle and pointed it at the door; he was still half-asleep but was determined not to be taken alive.

There was a strange whooshing noise outside, which prevented him from hearing the approaching footsteps but he saw a dark figure sneak by the window. Cocking the gun and putting pressure on the trigger he held his breath.

A dark head was stuck through the door, it took all of Illya’s concentration not to pull the trigger. "Napoleon?" Illya was dumbstruck, lowering the gun back to the bed.

"Hey Tovarish, want a lift?" Solo’s voice was bright with laughter. "Come on, we don’t have much time." He ran into the room, reaching quickly into the backpack to pull out the first aid kit, he filled a syringe with the balance of the morphine and quickly injected it into his friend. "Come on partner, let’s get the hell out of this place."

Kuryakin hadn’t been able to say anything he was so shocked to see his partner. "Napoleon, what in the…."

"No time, I’ll answer all questions on the way." Solo reached down scooping his friend gently up into his arms and ran rapidly for the door.

There was a helicopter sitting fifty feet from the door, it’s prop making the whooshing sound Illya had heard. Solo had him loaded into the passenger seat and was off the ground in less than a minute. "Napoleon, why aren’t you on your way to New York?"

Solo shot him a quick glance, "Shh, I need to concentrate, I’m not supposed to be flying this thing after dark." He turned back to the controls and continued to scan the countryside.

Illya kept his mouth shut and his eyes on the direction they were going and was pleasantly surprised to see the lights of the airport in front of him. His vision began to fade as the latest shot of morphine took effect.

Napoleon brought the helicopter down directly behind the U.N.C.L.E. jet parked on the runway, looking at his watch, "Twenty minutes to spare." He breathed a small sigh of relief as he ran around and scooped his now unconscious partner back up and climbed up the stairs into the plane. There were two small sofas in the back. He settled Illya on one and strapped him down for takeoff.

Running up to the front of the plane he stuck his head through the door of the cockpit. "Any time guys." Hurrying to the back he strapped himself in and in less than five minutes they were airborne.

Solo reached quickly into his pocket and pulled out his communicator, "Open Channel D."

Waverly’s voice came back instantly, "Yes Mr. Solo, I take it you’re on your way? You have the microdot?"

Solo smiled, "Yes sir."

Waverly’s voice seemed almost hesitant, "Mr. Solo, when you get back, we’ll have to discuss the rescue operation to retrieve Mr. Kuryakin."

Napoleon’s smile turned to a grin, "Not necessary sir. Illya is right here beside me." He looked over at his partner. "Was there anything else sir?"

There was a long pause, "I am anxious to read your report Mr. Solo."

"Yes sir, close channel D." Solo laughed out loud as he put his communicator away. Glancing at his partner again, he was surprised to see the bright blue eyes staring at him. "Hi Tovarish, how are you feeling?" He walked over to the sofa and sat down on the edge, taking his partner’s hand and giving it a small squeeze.

Illya looked around and saw they were aboard the U.N.C.L.E. jet before looking back at his partner. "Not that I’m not happy to see you, but how did you manage it?"

"I ran."

Illya looked at him a puzzled expression on his face, "Ran, you weren’t in any shape to run!"

"Illya, I used to run track in College. You could do anything, no matter how tired you were, if you put your mind to it." Solo almost seemed embarrassed. "I know you didn’t think I heard, but I knew Mr. Waverly wouldn’t be able to send in a rescue team. I also knew that if I made it to the airport in time I could come back for you myself, so I ran."

"Where did you get the helicopter?"

Solo smiled his famous smile, "I got in contact with our pilot, he’s a friend of mine. He knows people everywhere he lands, I figured he’d know someone close who could get a helicopter to the airport in time. We were lucky, he did."

"Napoleon, how do I thank you?" It was Kuryakin’s turn to be embarrassed. "I assumed I was going to die there."

Solo laughed, "Hey, no thank yous, remember, I was just holding you to your word."

Illya looked at him, puzzled, "My word?"

"Boy, you must be getting old." Solo laughed again at the snort that came from his friend, "Remember, you said you had no plans to relinquish your job? Well, I held you to it. Oh, by the way, do you have anything going on for the next few days?"

"Other than escaping from the U.N.C.L.E. hospital as soon as I’m able, no." Illya’s expression had changed to one of anticipation, "Why?"

"Well, you said the other day that you could teach anyone to play chess. I figured if you can teach anyone, you could definitely teach me." Napoleon yawned quietly as he squeezed his partner’s hand again. "You did say it would give us something to do in our spare time."

Illya nodded easily, Solo’s yawn triggering one in him, "With any luck we might have a little spare time for the next few days. I’d love to teach you, it should give me a new pigeon to beat regularly. He lay back down, closing his eyes.

"Great, you can come stay at my place, I even volunteer to sneak you out of the hospital." Solo stood up letting go of Illya’s hand and walked over to the other sofa to stretch out. He raised up his head for one moment to throw a fond look at his friend and partner before laying his head down and falling into a deep dreamless sleep.

The End