Crossroads
by Ekaterina Parsonov

TITLE: Crossroads
AUTHOR: Kathryn "Prozac" Parsons aka Ekaterina Parsonov
EMAIL: kpoflp@aol.com
CATEGORY: Slash X-over
WARNING: Minimal sex but lots of love.
PAIRING: Napoleon Solo/Ilya Kuryakin & John Carter/Luka Kovac
RATING: NC-17 (Adult Situations)
SPOILERS: Only for fanfics. See below
ARCHIVE: Yes please, but tell me where so I can tell all my friends.
DISCLAIMERS & SUMMARY: See Foreward posted in Act One

Act II - THRUSH, Little Baby...

For Christ's sake, can't you shut her up?!" The THRUSH operative was at his wits end. The disk wasn't in the backpack but the homing device had been. The child fell silent.

"You said something bad."

"What?" The secret agent-now-nanny turned the backpack inside out.

"Sister says we should only say 'Christ' when we pray." Katerina explained solemnly.

"Listen kid, I don't care what your sister said..."

"She's not *my* sister. She's the bride of baby ..."

"Jesus!"

"You're not supposed to say that either." Katerina pointed out frowning. "When can I go home? My daddies will be worried."

"In a little while." The exasperated agent kicked the contents of the backpack out of his way. "Now honey, I'm looking for a special kind of disk for a computer. Have you seen one? Here's what it looked like." The THRUSH agent held up a similar disk. Katerina shook her head. "It should have been in this bag. What happened to it?"

"I don't know. *Now* can I go home?"

"Hey Petersen, we just may have a solution to our problem."

"Yeah?"

"The kid's daddy is rich."

"How rich?"

"Stinking. His old man owns stock in quite a few of our overseas operations."

"Does he know about our interests?"

"No. The dumb schlub is a window dummy. We cook the books a little and he's clueless as to where his 'profits' are coming from."

"Yeah, well without the homing device, how are we going to find the disk?" Mr. Big will eat us for breakfast."

"Whaddya say we play detective and go interview the kid's dad? If they think the kid's been taken for ransom, so much the better. Everybody knows kidnappers don't use the phone anymore. The internet is much safer. No traces. We supply some disks so papa can download his e-mail. Write a few complicated ransom requests and delivery instructions, confiscate the disks, deliver the kid and everybody's happy. We might even get a bonus in the form of a whopping big ransom. As long as her dada stays dumb, we're home free. Awww, for Pete's sake will you shut up!"

Katerina sniffed and did as she was told. Sister Graciela had never mentioned taking St. Peter's name in vain, but Katerina was sure she wouldn't approve.

NS*IK*JC*LK

"Anything?" John came into their apartment to find Luka, ice-pack on his head, stretched out on the couch. Under the circumstances, John would have taken leave but a special delegation of African trauma physicians had been scheduled to follow him during his shift. He had helped to arrange the visit so Luka agreed he should go in.

"Nothing. Your father dropped by with two new cell phones so we can leave our other lines clear. He's called six times today but apart from that, nothing."

"I don't think who ever did this is after ransom money." John shrugged out of his suit coat and headed into the kitchen. The sight of Katerina's latest drawing on the refrigerator door stopped him in his tracks. Luka heard a muffled sob and found John holding the drawing and crying.

"Shhh, Janaskja, everything is going to be fine. We'll get her back." He pulled John into his arms and kissed his cheek, not trusting his voice any further. Both men remembered when Social Services took their daughter from them while she was still an infant. When they were finally permitted to adopt the little girl, their joy was indescribable. Faced with this latest loss, both men were trying desperately to remain calm.

John wiped his eyes and attempted to smile. "You're right. The crooks are probably just being cautious. "You want anything?" John's trembling hands replaced the drawing and opened the refrigerator.

"I had a sandwich about an hour ago. Fix something for yourself. There's some leftover stew in the freezer." Luka returned the ice pack to the lump on the back of his head.

"I'm not really hungry."

"Stomach acting up?"

"Big time. I don't think those Tanzanian docs were too impressed by this so-called veteran who threw up four times in the space of eight hours." John's nervous stomach had plagued him for most of his life. At the first sign of anxiety, his food felt an overwhelming need to get to Lake Michigan the hard way. John grabbed a yoghurt and some crackers and shut the fridge with his hip. Thirty minutes later, he was in the bathroom.

"The winner and still cham-peen." John griped after rinsing his mouth out.

"You okay?" Luka asked from the bedroom.

"No. You?"

"No."

"Thank God misery loves company." John was allergic to compazine, a routinely prescribed anti-vomiting drug so Luka handed him some OTC meds and both men went to bed early. Sleep, however, eluded them.

NS*IK*JC*LK

After going over the results of the full-scale search, Napoleon and Ilya also decided to get some sack time. They were staying in a slightly seedy apartment where, years before, their professional partnership had expanded to a more intimate relationship. UNCLE's mandatory retirement age for field agents was forty. Both men had passed that mark. So, the rules were changed. Now, an agent was retired if he or she couldn't pass a rigorous quarterly physical.

Both men were still trim and possessed excellent muscle tone. Napoleon's dark brown hair had touches of white at his temples, but his partner's clear blond mop showed no signs of advancing age. Their bodies were illustrated guides to what bullets, knives, and other hurtful implements could do to human flesh. Napoleon carefully applied the antibiotic ointment to his partner's most recent "souvenir." Had John Carter but known it, both men could probably be certified as EMTs on the spot. They'd been patching each other up for over a decade.

"I think we should communicate with the girl's parents." Ilya was insistent on this point. "If our THRUSH friends have made contact, this is the most efficient way to find out. "If they haven't, at least her fathers will be prepared.

"It's too soon, Ilyusha. We have a line on their phones, including the new ones her grandfather purchased today. Considering the Carter family's wealth, this still might turn out to be a routine kidnapping. The FBI has been called in, we're monitoring all of *their* calls, too."

Ilya rolled his eyes. "Polya, you're not being objective. The child was taken along with her backpack less than eight hours after she left the school which is next door to a THRUSH installation. The guards in her apartment building were dosed with THRUSH knock-out gas. Thirty-six hours later, there have been no ransom demands or any other suspicious contact. I would like to know how much more evidence of THRUSH's involvement do you need?"

"Well..."

"I know this is hard for you, Polya. But we don't have much choice. We need to tell them."

"Okay, you win. Let's go."

"Now?"

"Of course. You don't think they're asleep do you?"

NS*IK*JC*LK

The THRUSH agent worked quietly. It took less than a minute to disarm the security system on the Kovac-Carter vehicle. Using a small flashlight, he searched the car thoroughly. Nothing. On to plan B.

NS*IK*JC*LK

"Luka, someone's at the door." John was half-way down the hall pulling on his bathrobe and praying like never before. Instead of the uniformed police officer holding his daughter, John opened the door to reveal the men he'd met two days ago. "I *knew* this wasn't about ransom money."

"You're probably correct." The Russian man said at once.

"John? Who are these men? Detectives?" Luka came into the room with the baseball bat. With a child in the house, neither man would even consider owning a gun.

"In a way. Remember the secret agents I told you about? Luka, this is Ilya Kuryakin and Napoleon Solo."

"You have an excellent memory for names." Ilya shook Luka's hand and stepped aside to make way for his partner to do the same.

"Some names anyway. I don't think anybody's been called Napoleon since..."

"Waterloo." Napoleon winced. "My grandfather was very eccentric. Less money, and he would have been packed off to the Thorazine suite at the Rubber Ramada. Listen, I'm sorry for what I'm about to tell you, but I don't think there's any alternative. Dr. Carter is right. Your daughter was not kidnapped for ransom." Napoleon sighed. "What do you guys know about UNCLE?"

"It's like the CIA, isn't it?"

"No. Although they can be highly pragmatic and at times seem to further other world views, the CIA, NSA, and the rest of US intelligence community owe their ultimate allegiance to this country and her sometimes short-sighted political goals. UNCLE is an international agency dedicated to upholding the law; fundamental laws of right and wrong. Sometimes our goals coincide with those of the United States, more often, they don't. Ultimately, we'd like to see a stable world government with just laws for everyone, but we know trying to force this state of affairs would yield the opposite." Napoleon looked at John and Luka then shook his head.

"For example: The war in your homeland, Dr. Kovac. We saw it coming. Tried like hell to reason with the leaders of the three factions involved then sat back and let things work out for themselves. It was ugly. A lot of truly innocent people got hurt, but the war came to an end."

"Only because the UN stepped in." Luka said bitterly. His wife and daughters had been killed in that war. "I can't believe we're discussing politics while our daughter is God alone knows where."

"I'm sorry. Truly I am; for all of your losses, Dr. Kovac. However, if UNCLE had waded in and assassinated a few folks, the hostilities would still be going on. The Serbs, Croatians, and other ethnic groups had to figure out for themselves that war is hell on earth and an incredibly stupid way to settle disagreements. Fifty years ago, that regional conflict would probably have triggered a world war. Eighty some-odd years ago, the assassination of a crowned head in Sarajevo, did just that. We're still picking up the pieces."

"Well if you guys just sit back and let things happen, what's the point?" John wanted to know.

"The point is, despite regional conflicts, the world is a far more stable place than it was fifty years ago." Ilya smiled sadly. If anyone had told me, while I was prisoner in a gulag that not only would I *leave* the Soviet Union, but that the Soviet Union would cease to exist, I would have assumed they were drunk or certifiable, probably both. Without "Star Wars" without a major war, communist socialism fell by the wayside. Things are better. Not much, but the most important step was taken."

"Nevertheless, we *do* take action on occasion. But only when vast numbers of innocent lives are threatened." Napoleon's face was solemn. "Imagine what September 11th would have been like if nuclear weapons had been used. Thanks to UNCLE, they weren't. Still... too many lives were lost. Yes, some buildings were destroyed, but New York. Pennsylvania, and Washington, DC are still there." Napoleon said quietly. "It's a matter of degree. Technology has grown up far faster than human behavior. It's as if cavemen with all of their unbridled emotions and no moral standards had been given automatic pistols and hydrogen bombs. UNCLE primarily makes sure the technology is in proportion to the size of the idiot minds wielding it. It's not the best solution, but it saves more lives than you could know."

The sober-faced Russian nodded. "I am not exagerating when I state that my partner and I have saved the world on four separate occasions. By that I mean, averted epic disasters that would have ended life as we know it."

"So what does this have to do with our daughter?" John was getting very frightened now.

"Our chief adversary is an cock-eyed organization with an equally fantastic name: THRUSH. To put it simply, they also want a world government but their working model is the Third Reich. When we interfere it's usually to stop their operatives and scientists from destroying the progress we've made thus far. We believe they have your daughter. Why they took her, is still unknown. That's why we came to see you."

"Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary, lately?" Ilya asked.

"No. Nothing." Luka looked at John who nodded. "Apart from the excitement attached to our work, we lead extremely dull lives."

"Yeah." John interjected. "Treating Mr. Kuryakin was the first YWBT case I've had in a while."

"Excuse me, YWBT?" Napoleon's eyebrows went up.

"Shop talk for You Won't Believe This." John explained. "As trauma docs, we see all kinds of weird stuff, so much so, that it becomes a strange kind of routine. You guys were the first secret agents I'd encountered since I was a resident. Is that why Katerina was taken from us?"

"It could be. But that would mean we were under surveillance before and after we met you. No, more than likely this has something to do with the fact that THRUSH had a center of operations located next to your daughter's school..." Ilya broke off as Luka went deathly white.

"Janaskja! A janitor bumped into me and Kitten as we were leaving the building! That must be when all of this started!"

"Can you describe the man?" Napoleon took out a small tape recorder.

"Early forties, mouse-colored hair. Looked hypertensive..." A spate of medical terminology followed. Napoleon shook his head.

"In English, please."

"Ruddy complexion, slightly popped eyes, dry skin, and a slight squint in his left eye; pot belly and probably a wrenched ankle." Ilya explained as John and Luka's mouths fell open.

"No, I'm not a doctor. Quantum physics is my scientific discipline, but as you can tell, our work means we spend a lot of time in hospitals." Ilya smiled for the first time.

"Yeah, I'll bet." John shook his head as if to clear it. "So, what do you want us to do? I mean, you came here for something, right?"

"Have there been any unusual phone calls? Wrong numbers, hang- ups?..." Napoleon asked.

"Nothing. My father got us new phones. The hospital and our family are the only people with the new numbers."

"Who, besides the Chicago police and your family, know of your daughter's disappearance?" Ilya wanted to know.

"Apart from the ones who took her, only our boss. The papers haven't picked up on it yet. We told her school that she has the flu." Luka explained quietly.

"The internet." Ilya murmured.

"What?"

"Have you checked your e-mail, lately?"

"No. Not since that night. I didn't think..." John jumped up and ran for his laptop while Luka cleared a space on the coffee table.

"Here. Luka, could you plug it in?"

"Let me." Ilya put the computer in front of him and quickly pulled up the appropriate screen.

"How did you do that? We have it password-protected for our daughter." John was surprised. There was his personal e-mail service with all of his incoming messages.

"Let's just say, I can see why you'd want to limit access to your machine." Ilya said drily without actually answering the question. "Do you have a spare disk? I'd like to download your folder and let our encryption team look them over."

"Uhh, do you have to?"

"Janaskja, what's wrong? Should I know about this?"

"Well..."

Luka whistled as he peered over Ilya's shoulder. "You're into slash?"

"Okay, so I'm not proud of it. It's something to do when you've got the late shift."

"I'll say. No wonder you gave me a computer of my own for our anniversary."

"Slash?" Napoleon wanted to know.

"A sub-genre of what is called "fanfiction." The stories feature plots or sub-plots that involve same-gender relationships, usually male." Ilya sounded as if he was lecturing.

"And just how would you know about this, partner?" Napoleon smiled.

"I read about it in a magazine?"

"Okay... Is there anything else of interest?"

"Dr. Kovac-Carter, I assume you know all of these correspondents?" Ilya's elegant hands flew over the keyboard as he quickly duplicated the directory containing all of John's incoming mail.

"Kinda. Most of them are docs in other parts of the country. A few students, the usual. No pen-pals." John looked pointedly at his husband. "Anyway, do you think these THRUSH people will use the internet?"

"Probably. It's less easy to trace than the using the phones and a hell of a lot easier for the average person to access in private and manipulate. I'll download what you have archived so far and we'll tap into this directory and get copies of any future transmissions, if that's okay."

"Sure." John's face was the color of bricks.

"What about your computer, Dr. Carter-Kovac?"

"Luka, please, it's less time-consuming. I never hooked the thing up. It's still in the box."

"Your anniversary was in November." Napoleon pointed out.

"How on earth?"

"Let's face it Luka, our lives are open books to these guys." John was mortified.

"In a manner of speaking. We don't compile files on everybody. We simply access the information that's already been compiled by someone else. Employers, educational institutions, social services, local law enforcement, credit card companies: the usual. The drugs used to subdue the security staff in your building set off one of our alarms. I recognized your rather unusual last name, Dr. John, and the rest was a matter of routine." Napoleon explained.

"We celebrate two anniversaries." Luka sighed. "One in April when we first became a couple, and the date we were married in November."

"I'll get you a disk. I think we have a few in the bedroom." John called out over his shoulder.

"We're really sorry about all of this, Luka." Napoleon said softly.

"Yes. I must tell you there is still a chance of your daughter's abduction being the work of kidnappers for ransom, but with every hour that passes with no contact, the odds are decreasing." Ilya held out his hand for the disks.

"I'm sorry, do you guys want something to drink?" John asked.

"Coffee, if you have it."

"That's a given. We're doctors; we live on the stuff." John headed into the kitchen.

"Napoleon?" To anyone else, Ilya's voice would have sounded normal. Napoleon came over immediately and sat down.

"Got something?"

"How do you say? Pay dirt." Ilya said quietly. "Look."

Napoleon leaned forward and gazed at the list of files on the screen. "Give this man a cigar."

"You found something?" Luka wanted to know.

"Yeah, The reason Katerina was taken. If this disk is genuine, and there's every reason to believe it is, THRUSH will do anything to get it back. However, there's a catch. If they think we've seen it, all bets are off."

"Meaning?"

"They will have no reason to return your child." Ilya said bluntly. "And three billion reasons to want revenge.