Old, yellowed pages turned, crinkling and dry, moved by a hand that traced  each and every faded letter. Illya Kuryakin sighed heavily, the handwritten text in the sacred grimoire that traced the history of his people blurring momentarily before his eyes. Not much time -either for study or to prepare for an upheaval he could sense was coming as certainly as he could sense the gradual rising of the sun beyond the shuttered windows of his temporary study. Valentine had called it a calm before the storm. Why -not even his ancient lord could fathom...not yet anyway...

Thus, while Sir Alexander, Valentine, and Napoleon planned and pursued their own avenues of investigation, he had chosen the route less-traveled and often
forgotten in these days of high technology...and had sent for the ancient book of his people in his search for answers.

Illya shook his head wearily, resisting the hidden sun's call to rest. Too much to do. Too much to consider. He had been nothing but a stripling during the Age of the Great Purge when the children of Lilith were put to the sword -before these dark days, he would have sworn upon the name of Caine that those devil-spawns had been destroyed to the very last one, but now...now, it was clear that the Lilim were about. Somehow, some way, at least *one* had survived the ancient purge...

...and now, there were more than one. *Many* more if the word of that one who had taken his own life was to be trusted...and growing brazen. Brazen enough
to attack and reproduce as they had in days of old. Brazen enough to sunder centuries of peace and turn the Earth into a font of blood.

But why *now*? The vampire rubbed his eyes. The words of his people, written in a language forgotten to all but a few, might hold a clue...and the means
to avoiding what both vampires and humans would call the Armageddon of both of their species.

"Valentine asked me to check on you."

The words, softly spoken in that familiar voice, brought an unbidden smile to Illya's lips. "Oh? For what reason?" he asked dismissively, chancing a glance over his shoulder and then turning back to studiously scrutinize the sacred text.

"He suspected that you might be burning the midnight-oil." A grin brightened Napoleon's handsome countenance. "Relatively speaking, of course."

"My prince worries too much." Illya allowed the tome to fall shut. "Even such as we must accustom ourselves to the difference in hours between our countries -I have done so."

"He said that you'd say that."

"I am not tired."

"He said that you'd say that too."

A ruby light reached the Russian's eyes and then faded just as quickly, momentary annoyance fading in the face of his growing caring for this human...and the tenderness in Napoleon's voice. Illya tugged at the collar of his shirt, hoping to hide the warm flush that was beginning to color the normally pale hues of his face. "How are your associates -Mark and April?"

"Doing well -Valentine's ministrations staved off the Lilim's infection." Napoleon arched an eyebrow. "And you're side-stepping the issue."

Blue eyes rolled in exasperation. "I am *not* tired. Just because we share a bond does not mean that you should be my...what do you call it...my 'mother hen'."

"I think maybe it *does*."

"Did Valentine tell you *that* too?"

"Didn't have to. You are my partner and it's my job to take care of you." *And my pleasure* Napoleon added silently, glad that the vampire could not
read his thoughts unless they deliberately linked en rapport. Napoleon approached the child of the Kindred, uncertain whether he dared, before he tentatively placed his hands on the strong narrow shoulders before him. He heard a slight gasp escape Illya's lips as he began to knead the rigid muscles beneath his fingers, vaguely surprised that the young vampire had not ripped off his arms for the forward act. Indeed, the knight could have sworn that he could hear a low purr coming from his netherworldly patient. "You may not be a *mere* human, but you *are* tense...too tense for your own good."

"I appreciate your concern, Polya, but...ah yes...this lull may not last for long," came the curiously half-hearted protest. "We must take advantage of it to re-educate ourselves about the enemy."

"It *is* a lull, my friend, and a lull can be used for rest, don't you agree?" No answer. "Illya?" Napoleon reacted with alarm, but almost as quickly sighed with relief as he pressed two fingers against the suddenly silent and apparently insensate kindred's wrist. Pulse normal -for a sleeping vampire.

"Never get used to this..." Napoleon muttered as he lifted Illya's feather -light form and carefully placed him onn the sumptuous couch that dominated the office UNCLE's C.E.A. No...never get used to this. But he would be willing to try. What was it? The bonding? Or was it just human emotion that made him want to protect...to take care of the peacefully sleeping creature before him? But if it was (dared he say it) "love", what of it? Napoleon felt a hollow ache begin to grow within his chest as he called to mind Illya's words -that the Kindred loved whom they loved, but rarely committed. Valentine and Sir Alexander were bondmates and yet, for the most part, they stayed far apart, allowing themselves only a rare meeting or the distant touch of minds.

Somehow, Napoleon knew, that would never be enough for him even if it was for Illya. If (no...*when*) this mission succeeded, Illya would return to his clan's hidden keep in Russia and *he*, a knight of his order, would remain here -there would be no certainty that they would ever meet again. How Valentine and Sir Alexander could content themselves with such an arrangement, he would never truly understand.

Napoleon gazed at the unnaturally still form for a moment longer and then quietly rose, allowing his partner his solitude.

He had been walking for several minutes with no particular destination in mind when he realized where he was.

Napoleon studied the plaque on the door: "Pathology Department"...the place he had been avoiding, hiding his private shame almost since this horrible affair had begun. It had been his place as Benjamin Kowalski's partner and C.E.A. to attend the younger man's autopsy, but he hadn't ...and not for lack of courage or due to a weak stomach -he had seen more than his share of violent butchery since he had been appointed to UNCLE's knighthood. No...he had stayed away because he had not been able to bear the graphic reminder of his failure as a warrior and a friend. He had allowed the novitiate knight to go to his fate. He had *not* been at his side when needed most.

Section One had offered no reproach and Napoleon knew that his failure had not been deliberate, but he blamed himself nonetheless. An obnoxious punk Benjamin Kowalski may have been, but he had not deserved to be a pawn in a brutish plot to destroy centuries of relative peace between Kindred and humankind. Napoleon sighed aloud. The young knight's body was to be released to his family later in the morning for burial -the least he could do would be to say goodbye.

The room was cold, sterile, and white, the walls lined with refrigerated stainless steel cubicles -Napoleon knew exactly where to go. At the touch of a button, a long, mechanized steel palate slid out from its recess.

Napoleon was taken aback.

Had Napoleon not known otherwise, he would have sworn that the murdered agent that had been his partner was merely sleeping. He knew that UNCLE's morticians were skilled at hiding from the public the wounds resulting from the execution of their duties, but what he saw now was exceptional. The naked, waxen corpse was unblemished -the word "traitor"  that had been cruelly carved into Kowalski's flesh, had been hidden as if it had never been. There was no sign of the attempted decapitation and the blunt features had the softness of  peaceful repose ...plastic perfection.  Nothing could change the fact that his late partner was dead.

"We didn't always see eye to eye, but you were faithful to the Order and a good partner to me," Napoleon whispered as a final benediction. "I am sorry, Ben. I should have been there for you -I hope you can forgive me."

"What about *that*, buddy-boy..." A malevolent fanged grin split the frozen face and weighted eyes suddenly snapped open, wide and blazing red. "I din't
know ya cared!"