//Amnesty, amnesty, amnesty is granted//

Alexander Waverly looked over the three agents, his expression far calmer than they seemed to feel it ought to be.

He cleared his throat. "If you wouldn't mind, I would much rather hear you speak in turns. One at a time?"

They took a collective deep breath, and April stepped forward. "I overheard Mr. Leamas talking to the new people he brought in, and--"

"Ah, yes. I should be getting their full background checks in by tomorrow evening." He nodded, filling his pipe. "Continue."

"Well, they thought no one was around to overhear, so they were speaking freely, and I heard him-- Leamas-- tell them not to do something yet, but I missed what it was they weren't supposed to do. And then they said they had to do something quick, before anyone found out that they weren't UNCLE agents."

"Not UNCLE agents?" He raised his eyebrows, but his tone remained mild. "Well, well, well. And do you gentlemen have anything to add to this story, or are you merely decorative?"

Napoleon leaned forward, hands braced against the table. It shifted a quarter-inch to the left at the sudden pressure.

"He told them to kill Illya, Sir!"

"Did he now? And whatever prompted that?" Waverly questioned, looking over to the Russian in question.

"I-- I don't know, unless--" His voice dropped down to a whisper. "Unless it is because of Napoleon. I mean, Napoleon and-- well, me."

"Oh? And what did the two of you do to upset him that badly?"

"Well, Sir, I don't know how much he mentioned to you..."

"Illya and I--" Napoleon nodded, reaching back and taking his partner's elbow. "The memories he erased-- he told us they were mission-related, but they weren't. They were personal ones. We-- we remembered them."

He waited, eyes firmly affixed to the floor until a hand squeezed his wrist, and he looked up to Illya, exchanging a worried glance.

"And does he have any reason to believe that his process failed?"

"No!"

"No, Sir! We learned our lesson, we were much more careful this time, he--"

"Well, then I see no reason why he should be plotting Mr. Kuryakin's death. Unless, that is, he merely needs to offer up an agent as a sacrificial lamb."

"Well, he did mention not killing you, Sir." April interjected. "I think Illya might be a substitute target. A sort of compromise with whoever he brought in."

"I see. Well, we'll need to know more about all of this. First of all, Miss Dancer; I am putting you in charge of rounding up Leamas' false agents."

"But--" Napoleon began to protest.

Waverly silenced him with a raised hand and a severe look. "Not you, Mr. Solo. After what has been revealed here, my instructions to you are going to be quite a different matter."

He swallowed, finding Illya's hand and squeezing. "Yes, Sir. I understand."

"No, no, I don't think you do. Mr. Solo, you and Mr. Kuryakin are to find Mr. Leamas and--"

"You are sending us after Leamas?" Illya asked, his face brightening.

"So you mean-- we're not in trouble?"

"Mr. Solo, I am well aware of the fact that Mr. Kuryakin and yourself are in a romantic relationship, and I did not need that fool Leamas to inform me. However, you function far better than just about any other team in place. Therefore, I can only assume that-- like the ancient Band of Thebes-- this relationship of yours is a positive facet to the partnership."

"Yes, Sir." He nodded, breaking into a grin.

"And-- just to clarify-- we will be going after Leamas?" Illya reminded.

"I would appreciate it, Mr. Kuryakin, if Mr. Leamas could be brought in alive for questioning, after which he would stand trial by private tribunal of other Section one agents, most likely followed by a lengthy imprisonment."

Illya sighed, crossing his arms. "I will do my best, but if he becomes violent, we shall have no other recourse."

"Miss Dancer, you will bring your charges in alive as well, if at all possible. We may be able to glean important information from them. Oh, and if you would return the Williams file?"

She blushed. "Yes, Sir."

"Good. Well, you'd better go get started. Miss Dancer, you'll have to find someone to work with."

The three nodded and ducked out into the office.

Safely on the other side of the door, Napoleon leaned in to whisper something in Illya's ear.

"I was not pouting." He returned, voice low.

"You were so, when Mr. Waverly asked you not to kill Leamas."

"Yes, well... It wasn't cute!" Illya hissed.

---/-/---

April ducked into the lab to retrieve the Williams file. When she saw who was casually reading it, feet on the table, her jaw dropped.

"What are you doing down here?" She demanded.

"Well, isn't it a bit obvious?"

---/-/---

Natalie Brunighes, THRUSH operative, had her assignment. While her two co-workers took on the job of eliminatiing Illya Kuryakin, she would clear the path to him by distracting his partner. For some reason, Leamas had looked over her athletic build and subtle-but-stunning curves and suggested setting off the fire alarm. According to the intelligence she already had on Napoleon Solo from THRUSH, there were far better ways of getting the man's attention.

She stewed over the slight to her womanhood. Well, if Leamas thought her obvious physical charms weren't good enough, the man had another think coming, she thought huffily.

"Oh, Mr. Solo!" She called as he passed, raising one hand in a petite wave.

He didn't even slow down, remaining practically glued to the Russian's side, and apparently intent on something *other* than a dazzling new potential conquest.

All right, then. How did one go about setting off the fire alarm in this place?

---

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