Donahue hefted Natalie Brunighes over his shoulder. "You two all right to take out the other guys?"

"We're good." April nodded. "Lock her up for us, will you?"

"So... now we just have to look for the men who would be assassins." Mark agreed, checking the hallway.

"And they're looking for Illya." She said, mulling their prey's psyches over. "And I know where I'd go first if I was looking for Illya."

"Napoleon's office."

---/-/---

"Split up? But what if we find him? I don't know if I can take Kuryakin on my own!"

"Gary, he won't be expecting it. You look like UNCLE security. If he's in his lab, all you have to do is shoot him in the back. I'll check the offices."

---/-/---

Rob Donahue had just dropped the girl from THRUSH into a cell when his communicator sounded.

"Donahue."

"Agent Donahue, report to Waverly's office to pick up a rogue agent for containment."

---/-/---

Andrew Bolen, finding nothing in the first office he checked, moved onto the next. Solo... well, that was Kuryakin's partner. Maybe he'd be the--

This train of thought was cut off abruptly by the fact that there was one gun pressed against his right temple, and a second pressed to his left. He didn't dare move, and shifting his eyes to either side showed nothing. Looking ahead, he saw a ginger tabby perched on the desk, but nothing that cast a reflection. He assumed that his captors were Solo and Kuryakin, in which case Brunighes had failed, and he was now caught between a rock and a hard place.

A woman's voice spoke, her tone acid. "Good. Now you're going to play along and let my partner tie your hands behind your back. Then we're going to take you down to be interrogated, and you're going to sing like a nice little birdie."

"You are THRUSH, aren't you?" A man's voice, British accent. Okay, so not Solo and Kuryakin. "You'll sing either way, but the bird analogy is wittier if we're right."

---/-/---

The door to the lab opened, and a man in a security uniform entered.

Ginger and James straightened up hastily, both blushing.

"Is Mr. Kuryakin working in the labs?"

"No." James shook his head. "But I've been assisting him. I can take a message down and have him get back to you."

"Well, could you tell me where he might be?" Gary Philips asked impatiently. "Lunch, office, away? Any idea?"

Ginger looked him over, realization dawning. "Bloody--"

"What? Look, I'm in a hurry. If you can't tell me where Mr. Kuryakin is, then--"

"No, we can't." She said quickly.

He scrutinized her in return, reaching his own conclusion. She knew who he was, or at least, who he wasn't. However, if he killed her, he'd have to kill the boy as well, and he was really too busy to deal with two unscheduled hits and the attention they would no doubt draw. However, one punch ought to put her out, and how tough could a lab technician be?

He swung.

Suddenly, he found his fist caught between her wrist and hand and dragged forward. Ankle neatly pinned by her foot, he moved past his center of balance and fell, whereupon the hand beneath his fist swung down, striking his solar plexus.

James stared, open-mouthed.

"Did I mention? I do t'ai chi*." She tossed her hair. "Be a dear and relieve him of his weapon before he starts breathing again."

He shrugged and did as she said. "T'ai chi... well, you're certainly no boring librarian."

"Did I ever pretend to be?"

*No, she didn't mention, but the move executed is called 'grasp swallow's tail' (the second motion might have a seperate name, but I don't remember one)

---/-/---

Agent Robert Donahue took a moment just to let the full effect of the tableau before him sink in. Waverly was sitting in his chair, smoking his pipe. Leamas was standing a few feet from the door, Illya close behind him, Walther pressed to the back of the man's neck. Napoleon was leaning back against the edge of the table casually enough, but his own gun was aimed straight at Leamas' chest. Dead center.

"Cuff him?" Napoleon grinned.

Donahue nodded, unable to keep from smiling just a little as he tightened the handcuffs a little more than absolutely necessary.

"You couldn't loosen those a little, could you?" He winced.

"Just following the SOP, Sir." Donahue shrugged, unapologetic. "Would you like me to take him down to a holding cell?"

"Thank you." Waverly nodded.

"We'll come, too." Illya volunteered, lowering his gun but keeping it trained on Leamas.

"Oh, that won't be necessary. The two of you can interrogate him in the morning."

"Ah, we'll go, too, Sir. If that's all right with you."

"If you prefer, Mr. Solo."

Illya smiled, and he and Napoleon followed as Donahue led Leamas down, a small spectacle moving through the hallways. They reached the lower levels, and Donahue shoved Leamas roughly into the cell, closing the door on him.

"Sirs?"

"Go on," Napoleon nodded. "We can see ourselves out in a minute."

He left, and Napoleon and Illya turned to each other.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Napoleon whispered.

"I am thinking exactly what you are thinking. Revenge is just as good served hot, yes?"

"Definitely." And with that, he dipped the blond back into a long, passionate, incredibly involved kiss, in full view of their captive audience.

Leamas sputtered indignantly, and as soon as he had his feet under him again, Illya grinned coldly at him.

"Nice try. I will admit it caused a temporary lapse in our life together, but it was very much just that-- temporary. You see, Napoleon and I come with a lifetime guarantee."

"Authorized by Waverly." Napoleon added, dropping his arm around his lover's shoulders. And with that, they turned and left.

~FIN~

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