********************
Author: Athea (athea@netexpress.net)
Series: Man from Uncle, sequel to Moving In
Date: 19 June 2000
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      "Illya!  Down!"  Napoleon's shout caught him on the stairs with his gun
in his hand and no cover in sight but he instinctively obeyed.

      Wincing at the bruises he could feel forming as he slid down the steps,
the shots that almost parted his hair moved him even more quickly down
to the protection of the lower hall.  The sound of the shots told him
where the shooter was and the dull thud told him his partner had taken
care of that problem.  Napoleon was perhaps even more protective now
that they were lovers than he had been before.

      And at the moment, he was rather grateful for that all-seeing gaze.  A
slight click reminded him that there was more than one shooter and he
fell flat, rolling down the foyer until he had the Thrush agent in his
sights and could snap off a shot.  He felt a sting along his arm and
resigned himself for yet another trip to the clinic.

      But he at least had the satisfaction of knowing that the enemy agent
would be right there with him.  He sat up, stoically ignoring the
reddening sleeve and got up to follow after his partner.  His left arm
was beginning to hurt but he kept moving until a shrill whistle sounded
the all clear, only then dropping his arms and holstering his gun.

      Napoleon appeared in the door of the rival lab, his sharp eyes taking
in Illya's wound with one glance.  "We need to work on your ducking
skills, my friend.  But on a more positive note, it appears we caught
them napping.  I found notes and a working computer that has the
security . . . off."

      "Thank goodness.  Mr. Waverly will be pleased.  Let me see the
computer."  Illya tried to go around him into the lab but Napoleon stood
his ground.

      "Sorry, Illya.  We're going to let the lab boys have fun while you and
I report in and Dr. Keyes can have some fun stitching up that bullet
hole that you're trying to hide."  His partner's tones were mild but
Illya knew better than to protest, even though he really wanted to
explore the lab and the interesting experiments they'd caught wind of.

      "Yes, Napoleon."  He gave in meekly because his arm was starting to
hurt and the muscle had gone numb.

      "All right, that's it, we're going in right now."  Strong hands on his
shoulders turned him around and urged him down the hall, propelling him
past the security men who were securing the building and out to their
car.  He got in and watched Napoleon get behind the wheel.

      "It's nothing so very bad, Pasha.  You warned me in time to duck."

      "I hope you're right.  But this is the fourth time this year they've
deliberately targeted you.  He had a shot at both of us and he picked
you."  Napoleon's voice was tight, his driving sharp and controlled.

      Illya had nothing to say to that since it was quite true.  He laid his
head back against the headrest and watched his partner cut through
traffic like the professional driver he was.  He loved watching him
drive and it took his mind off the burning pain that was traveling up
his arm to his shoulder.

      The rest of their trip passed in silence and Illya automatically went
to the clinic while Napoleon reported in.  Dr. Keyes probed the bullet
site and shot his arm with a couple of numbing agents before sewing up
the gaping wound.  It only took five stitches but he prophesied more
pain since the bullet had nicked a nerve.  A broad-spectrum antibiotic
shot in the ass had Illya scowling but the doctor just smiled and helped
him get dressed.

      He insisted on a sling and Illya was definitely pissed when Napoleon
walked in, gauged the tension in the air and smiled charmingly at the
chuckling doctor.  "Any instructions, Bill?"

      "Here's some oral antibiotic that he's to take for the next ten days to
hopefully keep any infection at bay.  And here's the codeine for the
pain.  And it will hurt when the local wears off.  Keep him drinking
fluids, no alcohol and don't let him use it more than he has to."  He
watched Illya stalk from the room.  "And Napoleon . . . good luck,
you're going to need it."

***************

      Illya kept silent after answering the formal debriefing questions.
Napoleon kept looking over at him nervously but since it was taking all
his control to not show how much pain he was in, he had no energy to
reassure him.  Dr. Keyes had been quite right about the local wearing
off and he could feel the flush of fever spreading from his ears on
down.

      As the Americans said so descriptively, this really sucked.

      He tried heading back to Green Lab to pick up the working notes of the
project he'd left hanging when pulled for the Thrush assignment.  But
Napoleon scowled at him and turned him towards the exit, walking
slightly behind him and to his right side so he could stop any attempt
at escape.  Illya removed his badge and acknowledged the guard's
sympathy with a smile.

      The constant health concern that all Americans expressed still amazed
him.  Even strangers would comment on colds, casts and slings.  Illya
pondered why his adopted country was so obsessed with being healthy,
staying on diets, eating enough fiber and exercising until they
dropped.  It seemed odd to him and he started to ask his partner but he
remembered in the nick of time that he was mad at Napoleon.

      "Don't pout, Illyusha, you know that it makes me want to kiss you."
His grinning partner had the car door open for him.

      "I just wanted my notes to study while I am recuperating, Napoleon."
Illya slid in a little awkwardly, bumping his arm and barely keeping his
exclamation to himself.

      "Tomorrow."  Napoleon closed the door and moved unhurriedly to the
driver's side.  "I'll get you anything you want tomorrow.  Tonight,
you're going to let me pamper you.  Soft pillows, some soup and
crackers, that guava nectar you like and me, waiting on you hand and
foot."

      Illya thought about it while they departed the parking ramp and headed
home.  "I want chocolate chip ice cream for dessert."

      "Okay."

      "And I want to listen to Rimsky-Korsakov on the stereo."

      Napoleon sighed.  "Agreed."

      "I'll need a foot massage."

      He grinned and cast a quick look at Illya.  "Now, you're getting into
the spirit of things.  I promise to massage you right into ecstasy,
lover."

      "And you'll read me to sleep with more Shakespeare?"

      "Absolutely."

      "Then, you have my permission to pamper me, Pasha."  Illya laid his
head back and tried not to think of the pain.

      "Thank you, Prince Illya.  I can't tell you how honored I am."

      Illya smiled sweetly at him.  "It is an honor, isn't it."

      Napoleon laughed out loud and let a silly little Volkswagen cut in
ahead of him.  Illya felt a gleam of satisfaction at his successful
attempt at teasing.  He was learning from his partner and Mark how to
make others laugh.  April was giving him flirting lessons and he
practiced whenever he could.  But only with Napoleon, only with the man
he loved more than life itself.

      "Is the pain very bad, love?"  The car had stopped and Napoleon was
leaning towards him, one hand hovering over his left arm.

      "A little.  I was thinking about how much I love you, Pasha."

      "Then why the worry line?"  Napoleon smoothed a finger between his
eyes.

      "Because I don't tell you enough.  I don't have the right words."
Illya sighed and wished that he could be charming like his partner.

      "You have the words, Illyusha.  You just said them.  I love you, too.
All the flowery adjectives in the world can't replace those three simple
words.  Sit still and wait for me to open the door for you."

      Illya wavered a bit when he got out, the sidewalk seeming to move
beneath his feet.  Napoleon gave him an arm to hold onto and they made
it up the steps to their front door.  The pain was a constant now,
radiating up his arm across his shoulders and down the other arm.  He
was panting by the time Napoleon sat him down on the bed in his room.

      "Stay there and don't move.  I'll go get some water for your pills."
The tight voice was back, the one that Illya only heard when he got
hurt.  That seemed to be rather often these days.

      He could feel his temperature rising and he kicked off his shoes so
he'd be ready to lie down after taking his pill.  The bed looked so
inviting, all smooth linen in a light blue that didn't hurt his eyes.
He tried to get his jacket off but that wrenched his arm and he had to
bite his lip hard to keep from crying out.

      "Don't, love.  Let me help with your clothes.  Open up."  Napoleon held
out a pill and Illya obediently opened his mouth for the capsule,
drinking it down with the cold water that his partner had brought.

      The next few moments were trying ones while Napoleon eased him out of
his clothes.  Once he was down to bare skin, his partner covered him up
and eased a pillow under his left side so he couldn't accidentally roll
onto his bad arm.  The codeine was making him float and he watched
Napoleon puttering around the room, putting away clothes and changing
out of his suit into jeans and a polo shirt.

      "I like you casual, Pasha.  You look younger somehow."  His tongue
seemed very thick and it took a lot of energy to get the words out in
the right order.

      "I like you casual, too, Illyusha.  Sometimes I feel as if I was
robbing a Russian cradle.  You look about sixteen some days."  Napoleon
smiled at him and leaned over the pillow to kiss him.  "I'm going to go
down and get some juice for you.  Anything else you'd like?"

      "Just you, Pasha.  And some ice.  It's so hot in here."

      He must have dozed because Napoleon was back and urging him to take
another pill.  Time moved very slowly or maybe it was quickly, he
thought muzzily and wondered why Napoleon kept changing clothes on him.
The pain came and went, staying sometimes for an hour at a time.  When
Dr. Keyes showed up, Illya thought fearfully that he would say something
about finding Illya in his partner's bed.

      But he didn't say a word, only unwrapped the bandage on his arm.  The
alarm in his voice then prodded Illya out of a fever dream and he
wondered at the swollen skin around the incision and the purple streaks
that radiated out from the angry red scar.  But then he was being
wrapped in blankets and Napoleon was carrying him down the stairs and
out the front door.  The pain was so bad that he let himself pass out
then, knowing that Napoleon would keep him safe.

****************

      "Illya!  Don't you dare leave me."

      //Pasha?//

      "Promise me, Illya.  Stay for me."

      //It's so bright.//

      "Illyusha.  Don't leave me alone."

      //Stay.//

******************

      The warm hand that held his was familiar and he flashed back to the
last time he'd awakened in a hospital.  The smells were right but the
sheets felt much nicer so he must be back in the clinic at UNCLE
headquarters.  And that meant that Napoleon was sitting up with him
again.

      "Napasha?"

      "Right here, love."

      A warm drop landed on his hand and Illya opened his eyes to see
Napoleon dash away tears from his cheeks.  "Don't cry, Pasha."

      "Don't you ever do that to me again, Illyusha."  His partner kissed the
fingers he held so tightly.  "You almost left me."

      "Never leave you, Pasha.  Remember?  Till the light calls."  He
recalled the vows they'd made to each other in Switzerland.

      "I remember."  Napoleon held on even harder.  "It almost called for you
this time.  The bullet was coated with a slow acting poison.  Bill
analyzed the damn thing after he took it out of your arm and spotted
something odd under the microscope.  By the time he got to you with the
antidote, your system was already in the process of shutting down."

      "Sorry.  'worrying you."  Illya could hear his words slur and he knew
he was going to sleep again.

      "Sleep, love.  It's the best healer."

*********************

      This time, the light didn't hurt his eyes and the smell of hospital
didn't make him sick to his stomach.  When he opened his eyes, he found
April Dancer giving herself a manicure.  "April?"

      The wide smile lighted her whole face.  "Welcome back, Illya.  You had
us all worried there for a while."

      "Napoleon?"

      "He's in a debriefing of Mark and my last mission.  We got in this
morning with some very interesting news about THRUSH Europe.  Or rather
what's left of their European branch."  Her smile was smug but more
importantly, she was pouring him a glass of cold water and he licked his
dry lips in anticipation.

      She bent the straw and let him sip it slowly.  It tasted so good that
he closed his eyes in enjoyment.

*********************

      He awoke to the sound of voices talking over him.  Napoleon's voice was
heated while Mr. Waverly's was patient.  Opening his eyes, he watched
them square off across his bed.

      "He needs rest and recuperation time."

      "I agree, Mr. Solo.  But you do not and I need you to take over Section
Five now."  Mr. Waverly gestured with his unlit pipe.

      "And I'm very grateful to be offered the position but right now is when
Illya needs me the most.  He will need careful nursing for at least two
weeks."

      "Two weeks?"

      "At least two, perhaps three."

      "I can spare you for two weeks but no more.  We can hire a nurse to
take care of him if need be but you must be here for the summit meeting
on the fifteenth."  The look he gave Napoleon was ferocious but Illya
could see the concern that he was hiding.

      "That sounds about right."  Illya decided to enter the conversation.

      "Illya, you're awake."  Napoleon leaned down and for one scary minute,
he thought he was going to kiss him right in front of Mr. Waverly.  But
he just brushed his cheek with the back of one hand.  "It's about time
you stopped sleeping your days away."

      "How many days?"

      "It's been a week, Mr. Kuryakin.  Welcome back.  I'll send in Dr. Keyes
on my way out."

      "Napoleon will attend your summit, Mr. Waverly."

      "Illya!"

      "Hush, Napoleon.  In two weeks I will be right in the middle of
healing.  The scar will itch, I'll be bad tempered and irritable because
it's not healing faster.  My sarcasm will be at an all time high and
I'll contradict everything you say just because I can."

      Napoleon's lips twitched and he bit the lower one hard.  "Good heavens,
what was I thinking of.  Of course I'll be back by the fifteenth."

      The faded blue eyes twinkled at Illya and Mr. Waverly winked at him
before taking himself out of the room with a harrumph.  Napoleon tried
to keep his laughter inside but a chuckle escaped before he could catch
it.  Illya lay contentedly watching him, holding on to him with his good
hand.

      "I love you, Illya Kuryakin.  Don't ever leave me again."

      "Never, Napoleon.  I'll never leave you if I have any say in the
matter."  His eyes drooped and he fought them open again.  "I keep
falling asleep.  Was April here?"

      "Yesterday, she sat with you while I went over some very interesting
material that she and Mark brought back from France.  When you're on
your feet again, part of the ton of material they shipped back has your
name on it."

      "When can I get out of here?"

      "When Bill says you can.  Do you remember a while back when I promised
you a picnic?"  Napoleon stroked his hand tenderly.

      Illya thought back to their picnic on the roof.  "Yes.  I'm not sure
I'm up to a picnic right now, Pasha."

      "That's all right.  When you get out of here, I'm going to take you to
our picnic site.  Then, when you're feeling better, we'll go on our
picnic."

      "Will I like it?"

      "I hope so.  It's one of my favorite places in the whole world and I
want to share it with you."

      "Then I'll like it.  I'm falling asleep again, Pasha."  Illya's eyes
closed and wouldn't reopen.

      A warm kiss brushed against his lips and the lovely Napoleon-taste made
him smile.  "Go to sleep and dream of me.  I love you, Illyusha.  Thank
you for staying."

      "Love you, too."  Illya fell asleep before he could say anymore.

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End part three (one more to go)