The door swung open, grabbing the attention of the three THRUSH bigwigs. Mr. Waverly looked rather nonplussed.

"Quickly, shoot them!"

"Do it and you'll never get the information you want!" Napoleon said quickly, his hands in the air.

Illya mirrored his partner's submissive pose. "We are willing to turn over some highly sensitive documents, in return for Mr. Waverly's life."

"Waverly's already talked under the truth serum." One of the scientist's said, eyes darting around nervously.

"He wha-- oh. Yes. That's right."

"This is new information. It came in from London HQ this morning. He hasn't had the opportunity to memorize it."

"Let us see first."

"Half now." Illya handed over the faked document. "We leave the other half there, on that table, as we leave. Do we have a deal?"

"What's on the film?"

The second man looked it over. "Names, numbers... some addresses, it looks like. Do you know what they mean?" He glared over at Napoleon.

"Well, I would assume that the second half will tell you what you need to know. If not, I suppose we could meet again. You'll let us pick up the bill next time, wont you? After all, you were *so* hospitable today."

"We will find you, if the information is false."

"I wouldn't think very highly of you if you didn't. But the information's good."

"We get a five-minute head start." Illya added, moving slowly towards the table, the explosive strip in his hand.

"Fine." The second man, who seemed to be in charge, nodded to the third. "Let the old man go."

Waverly gave a shallow bow and joined his agents in the doorway. Napoleon drew his gun, covering them as they made their exit. As soon as they were around the corner, they broke out into a run, the corridor collapsing behind them.

The car was waiting outside, as promised. The driver helped Waverly in.

"Thank you, Robertson." He nodded. "My... haven't had to run like that in some time. I'm beginning to think I may not be as young as I used to be."

"Perish... the thought..." Illya panted, leaning against his partner.

"Are you okay?" Napoleon lifted him into the car, concern evident in his voice and on his brow. "I should have given us more time..."

"I'll be fine. I am in excellent shape, despite my recent injuries. They were all superficial."

"You're checking into medical anyway."

"Napoleon, I--"

"You're checking into medical." He repeated. "For me?"

"All right, but I am fine. Really."

"Of course."

"Just a little tired."

"Well, you get some rest. Our part's over for now."

"Yes, you certainly earned it." Waverly agreed.

"The torture was nothing." Illya shrugged, letting his shoulder rest against Napoleon's. "The children... now that was tiring."

Solo grinned, slinging an arm around his partner. "I'm sure they'll be glad to hear you're all right."

"Mm... don't make me kill you, Napoleon. It would be a shame."

"I'll keep them out of your hospital room."

"not staying in the hospital..." His head dropped to Napoleon's shoulder.

"Well, then I'll make sure they don't follow you home."

"Oh, and Mr. Solo,"

"Ah, yes, Mr. Waverly?"

"Did you manage to save my book? Aside from the instructions on page 42, the text was intact. You see, James Fenimore Cooper was the first author to portray the spy as a hero rather than a shifty, villainous rogue lurking in shadows."

"Ah... no. I'm sorry, Sir."

"I thought as much. And I had asked you to return it to me at the office."

"Well, yes, but then we-- you see, Sir, it--"

"Pick up another copy at the bookstore tomorrow, then, and add it into the expense report."

"Yes, Sir."

---/-/---

Roxanne let out a squeal, running to her children. Eddie followed at her heels.

"Claire! Micheal!"

Lisa smiled. "Looks like they got back safe and sound."

Their escort, the first driver, nodded. "Robertson contacted me not more than five minutes ago. Waverly is on his way, and Misters Solo and Kuryakin are with him."

"Oh, thank goodness!" Roxanne sighed, the two children still held fast in her arms. "Will I get the chance to thank them?"

"Napoleon is quite fond of being thanked." Lisa smirked. "And I'm sure we can get Illya to play nice as well. Here, let's get something hot into those children. I somehow doubt THRUSH fed them well."

---/-/---

Mark sighed, passing the two girls in the hall, and entered Napoleon's office.

"We'll be back in a few minutes, Mark!" April called over her shoulder. "We just have to run down to the labs to pick up some paperwork that Ginger has to run over to records." She paused, turning around. "Oh, and if you find anymore interesting mail, wait for us."

"I don't want to find anymore interesting mail!" He returned. They left, and he closed the door.

"Miaow."

"Hullo, DeLeon. Do you understand women?"

"Miaow."

"No, neither do I. Bloody inconvenient, if you ask me. Sometimes I think you'd be happier if you were neutered. Or have you been? Once for yes, twice for no."

DeLeon stared up at him.

"All right, you're absolutely correct. We *don't* know each other well enough to discuss such things. So... what do you think?"

"Mer. Merrow. Prrrm."

"Yeah? Which one?"

"Miaow."

"I see." He touched foreheads with the cat. "Well, I-- no. A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell."

"Prrrrm..."

"Only if you promise not to tell a soul." Mark grinned.

"Miaow."

"Very well. She kissed me, cat. I don't know that she meant anything in particular by it, but it happened."

"Mrow?"

"Well, I suppose it was nice-ish, as a one-time thing, but I don't see our relationship changing."

DeLeon purred.

"Oh, you do? Well, I'm glad you think so." He chuckled, scratching behind the orange velvet ears. "I'm going for a cup of coffee. Preferably one that I wont spit out or spill."

DeLeon stopped purring. He liked spilt coffee.

---

This page is an unofficial site that exists only for the fun of it. All characters and situations from the television show "The Man from U.N.C.L.E." are property of Norman Felton and Warner Bros. Nothing ill is intended by this use of any television characters in these amateur efforts. Any fiction linked to these pages is the intellectual property of the amateur author who created it and is not presented here for profit.