John stopped him with a touch.  “I need you to trust me.  I’m going to do something you might find
              uncomfortable, but it will help you rescue your partner.”

              “I’m already uncomfortable,” he replied, “and if it will help Napoleon and Mr. Waverly, do it.”

              Qui-Gon reached up and laid his fingers on the younger man’s temples, linking their minds.  “See what I
              see, feel what I feel, know what I know. For this short time, look on the world as a Jedi.”

              His mind reeled as new knowledge flooded his senses and brain, but he quickly adjusted with Qui-Gon’s
              help.  He sensed the men in the dining room as the Jedi did, without needing sight, and knew and agreed
              with his plans. When they were in position, Qui-Gon used the Force to turn out the lights and the pair
              quickly fired their Specials, Ilya getting three while the Jedi master shot the other two.  The prisoners were
              quickly released, and with their help they managed to free the staff without casualties.

              The former invaders were gathered together in the dining room as Waverly called for an UNCLE clean-up
              crew to pick them up.  Ilya was helping guard them when he suddenly swayed on his feet.  John was there in
              an instant, knowing the adrenaline had worked its way through his system and now shock was setting in.

              “Come and lie down; nothing needs your personal attention right now,” he softly said as he led the young
              man to his room.  Gently he helped Ilya undress and laid the man in the bed he’d abandoned days before to
              seek his lover’s, grimacing at the bloodstains on his clothing.  “Are you in a lot of pain?  Do you want me to
              call the doctor?”

              “No doctor,” Ilya replied, “just let me rest.  I’ll be all right.”  John tucked the sheet around him as he fell
              asleep and sat with him awhile to be sure he was well, removing the link between their minds.

              He slipped quietly out of the room and went to find Alex.  He spoke to his old friend for quite some time
              before being granted his request, but in the end he prevailed.  When the UNCLE clean-up squad left, one
              prisoner remained behind.

              Waverly, Napoleon and Ilya were in the front yard watching as the prisoners were being loaded for
              transport to Colombo.  Alex turned to his old friend and said, “It’s been good to see you again, John.  You
              should make an effort to come to New York some time.”

              “I’ll see what I can do,” John replied, “but you know how business presses.”

              “Yes, I do,” Waverly said, “and I have to get back to mine.  Mr. Solo, we should check the prisoners before
              they leave.”  He moved away with Napoleon in tow, leaving Ilya to make his goodbye in private.

              The short nap had done him good, and he looked fit and rested standing there in a suit and tie like the young
              executive he pretended to be.  The only incongruity was the sad longing in his eyes.  “I will miss you,” he
              said.

              “As I shall miss you,” John replied, enfolding him in his arms for a last embrace and a long goodbye
              kiss.  Before releasing him he whispered, “I’ve heard from my Russian confederates.  They’re quite willing
              to drop the sanction against you for what I offered them.  You should be safe by the time you reach New
              York.”

              “Thank you.  I would have missed field work, for all that I complain about it.”  He turned and walked away,
              returning to the life he’d come to enjoy. John had been right; it was what he’d truly wanted.

              He pulled the car into the warehouse and stopped as he’d agreed.  He got out and greeted the man who
              waited.  “Comrade Petrov,” he said in Russian.

              “Did you bring him?” Petrov asked, wanting to get this over with quickly.

              Quinn opened the rear door of the car.  “Right here, as promised.”  On the floor lay Phillips, bound and
              gagged.  “The man who broke your agent and sent the information he gained to his Soviet counterparts,
              causing the deaths of your agents.”  He stopped Petrov before he could take charge of the prisoner.  “I will
              need some bonafides your end of the bargain has been kept.”

              He withdrew a communiqué from his pocket.  “This is the official order from Moscow rescinding sanction
              against Kuryakin.  Read it if you wish.”

              He quickly perused the missive and nodded.  “He’s all yours; what’s left of him, that is.”

              “What’s left of him?” Petrov asked.

              “He raped someone I love,” Quinn said, “so I emasculated him and forced him to watch his genitals
              burn.  He’s not the man he was, but it shouldn’t affect the medical research I know you intend him to
              participate in.”

              Petrov nodded in return and took his prisoner away.