“Sorry to drag you out again, love.” Ray said softly as he gently caressed his lover’s chest. Long fingers skimming over the swollen pectorals as he gazed up into blue eyes.

“S’Okay.” Bodie answered suddenly breathless. “Can’t sleep without you anyway.”

Ray laughed low and throaty and the ex-merc felt his cock twitch in response. “Have I ever told you that you have a dirty laugh, old son.” Bodie asked with mock severity.

“Often. And usually in bed.”

With reluctance Bodie stepped back, the underground UNCLE car park was not his favourite make out place, it was cold and bleak with a rather unsatisfying scent of motor fumes. He reached back into the silver Escort and produced a small overnight bag.

“So, where is Solo?” Bodie asked draping a strong arm around his partner’s shoulders.

“Inside. We decided to run a check against the CI5 database and the UNCLE international listing to see if any of the employees of the club are known to us. So far we have drawn a complete blank.”

“Hmmm. Well, it will give him something else to do, rather than fret over Illya.” Bodie muttered the soft accent echoing unnaturally loud in the concrete edifice.

“I’m worried about them.” Ray said suddenly drawing away from Bodie’s protective embrace.

“Come on love, they’ll be alright. With the combined forces of UNCLE and CI5 watching their backs I doubt they will have more trouble.”

Ray narrowed his eyes to slits of glowing sea green as he appraised Bodie of the situation. “The tox screen on Illya came back.”

“Was it Ketamine?”

“Yeah. But it was administered topically.”

“How?” Bodie frowned as he fell into step beside his partner as they made their way slowly towards the security entrance.

“Seems Illya is using DMSO for an old shoulder injury. The doctor suspects that the Ketamine was introduced into the bottle.”

“Ah, so this is why they want his kit?” Understanding suddenly lighting the blue eyes.

“Yes, which also means that Chris got into our house, despite CI5 security, dosed the item, returned it and left without being seen.”

“Not possible.” Bodie said flatly.

“It damn well is possible.” Ray turned under the harsh fluorescent light to look at the strong features. Ray’s green eyes blazed furiously against his red gold lashes.

“If the DMSO was prescribed from the UNCLE pharmacy it could have been tampered with there. It could have even been introduced in transit, say at the airport when they arrived. That bag, has been in a dozen places before it got into our home.”

“It will largely depend on when Illya used the balm last won’t it?”

Bodie nodded. “Is he awake yet?”

“Yeah, he was too groggy to sit up and went straight back to sleep. Could be a couple of hours yet before we know.”

“I bet Solo’s relieved to see him wake up.” Bodie stopped in his tracks when he saw the look of concern flash across his partners face. “What?”

“Napoleon, hasn’t seen Illya since we brought him in.”

“Why not?” Bodie’s voice dropped to a dark purr, his anger kept in check only by his confusion.

“Because something happened between them.”

“Great.” Sarcasm dripped off the word. “This whole affair is beginning to get on my nerves.”

“It gets better, if the DMSO in that bag you’re carrying shows signs of tampering, the Cow has ordered we move into a safe house for the duration.”

“Wonderful. Who did I kill last week to deserve this?” Misery echoed clearly in Bodie’s voice. Doyle didn’t need to see the stooped shoulders, the grim visage, or the beautiful mouth swollen into a soft pout, to confirm his suspicions of his partner’s mood.

“Don’t know, must have been that fairy down by the gate.” Doyle winked.

“The only fairy I know sunshine, is wearing my shirt.” Bodie teased back. “Which house are we going to hole up in?”

“That’s the good part, whilst Cowley has decided we need to get out of town for awhile the head of UNCLE Europe suggests we take a trip up north.”

“And the purpose of that would be?” Bodie stepped back and waited for Doyle to key in the security code on the main door.

“Well, it’s only a theory, but we all suspect that the White Wolf is going to hunt the Prince of Wales, yes?”

Bodie nodded as he pinned on the white triangular visitor’s pass.

“I suspect, that Solo and Illya have been the target’s all along. And the Prince and all the confusion about this summit meeting is just a smoke screen to blind us.”

“So, if we make sure that both Solo and Illya are visible in the new location and Chris makes another play for them, then his original target is voided.”

“Something like that, especially since Charles will be making a very public visit to the Great Ormond Street children’s hospital in the middle of a full media circus in two days time.”

“Sounds feasible. When do we leave?”

“The doctor’s want to make sure that Illya is alright before we head north so, best guess two days.”

Bodie smiled.

~~~oooOOOooo~~~~

Illya shivered, the world once again had turned frosty white. His skin was cold and brittle to the touch of the chill wind that blew across his naked form. He felt his face and skimmed his fingers through the cold morass of snow that seemed to encompass him. For a time he laid still, waiting and watching his breath rise in lazy circles above him.

Waiting for the moment when the breath would still and all the pain and fear would be gone. He felt sadness at the thought, something was missing and he couldn’t remember what it was. Something fragile and so very near had shattered like virgin glass upon the pavement of his soul and desolation had swept it clean, spiralling away from his icy touch.

And in the glowing light he watched it leave, only then realizing that the one thing he missed was the sound of laughter.

Not his own, never his own, but from his partner.

Pale lips moved as he lay in the hospital bed, as a single tear streaked his face. The solitary tear and heart broken whisper that only God would ever hear.

“Moya lubeyvenka, Napasha.”

~~~oooOOOooo~~~

Solo propped his feet up on the low timber table in his makeshift office long fingers steepled and rested against pursed lips. For nearly two hours he had checked each name and face that was known to work in the bars, and so far no one came close to having a THRUSH connection. The computer banks chatted softly in the back ground as they dutifully processed the requested information. The machines worked to decipher the mass of misinformation, giving him time to ponder the recent events. A cup of cold coffee sat on the desk next to him and the critical analysis of himself rang in his own ears with damning clarity.

He had doubted Illya’s ability to look after himself. Check one. That was beneath contempt. He had never had any cause to doubt Illya’s abilities in the field or off. His fiercely loyal and professional partner had always been his white knight. Who watched his back when no other could or would.

He had acted as a foolish and jealous child when Illya went to work in that bar. Check two. Things were not looking good. Not only, did he jeopardize the mission, but also the consequences could have been dire, probably fatal. His said preoccupation with his jealousy had blinded him to the possibility of Illya being in very real danger, from a very real psychopath. That was suicidal.

He sighed.

Finally, he had been blinded to Illya’s needs and used him in the basest way when in fact he should have known something was amiss. That was reprehensible. Now Illya turned his back on him, venom spit from lips that moment earlier had whispered endearments now snarled at him like a cornered and wounded animal. He could take the hate, and the anger, but never could he accept the loss of Illya’s trust. Check three. And Solo deduced the list could no doubt be endless should he choose to sit and recriminate against himself and his actions.

He was many things but a coward was never one of them. Consciously he decided then and there that he would win llya’s trust and respect back and get this affair over and done with. He would consort with the devil himself if needs be, but the White Wolf would soon be stuffed and mounted in the private Solo museum for extinct psychopaths.

He raked his fingers through his hair and stood up, the finely tailored black leather jacket snug against his broad shoulders as he looked down at his watch.

All this of course was fine in theory, what he needed to know now was precisely how much damage he had caused. It was time to determine whether he stood even a remote chance of Illya’s forgiveness and surviving the mission.

Just as Napoleon turned out the door, the communicator in his pocket bleeped in two short tones and then silence, repetitive.

“Solo here.” He answered the internal summons with all the calm he could muster.

“Mr. Solo, Dr. Wilkes here, your partner is awake and asking for you. If you would be so kind as to bring him in some clothes, I can release him.”

“Thank you Doctor, I’ll be there soon.”

“He’s rather insistent that the soon be now, Mr. Solo.” There was a distinct sound of apprehension in the doctor’s tone.

“I’m on my way, Solo out.” Napoleon couldn’t suppress a grin. At the very least Illya had asked for him.

~~~oooOOOooo~~~

What Solo expected to see when he walked into the UNCLE infirmary he was not quiet sure, but is certainly wasn’t what greeted him.

Illya sat in a straight-backed hospital chair, the metal arms barely covered in plastic padding. A large blue blanket wrapped around his body cocooned him as he hunched forward.

His eyes were shadowed, with dark circles cutting against the incredible blue of his eyes. He looked so small and helpless, his body dwarfed by the surroundings as he shivered in his makeshift clothing.

Solo approached carefully, as he put the bag of clothes down on the bed.

“Illya.” He called softly.

The blond head jerked slowly up as the wide blue eyes tried to focus on the face before him.

“Hi.” Illya’s voice was still slurred from the drug and sounded incredibly tired.

Solo moved closer still and crouched at his partner’s feet.

“Feel better?” Napoleon asked, unable to resist the urge to brush the long golden bangs from Illya’s eyes. He was encouraged when Illya did not reject the touch.

“When you’re here moya dushka, always.” The reply heartbreaking soft was a little stronger this time.

“You, ah had me frightened little one, you know that?” Solo said drawing the trembling man into his arms. Illya melted against him and laid his head against a leather clad shoulder.

“Hmm? Frightened me too, Napasha. Go home now?”

“Yes, as soon as you dress.” Solo reluctantly pushed his partner back into the chair and began to unpack his clothes. Socks, sneakers, track pants and a sweater, the entire contents of Illya’s locker, Solo smiled fondly as he began to help Illya dress.

Just as the golden hair popped through the top of the sweater, Illya caught Napoleon’s face between two strong hands and kissed him gently on the forehead.

“Napasha, I know I am still a little woozy from the drug’s but I remember.”

Solo felt the blood and colour drain from his face as he looked back into implacable blue eyes. “You, ah, do?”

“Yes. And whilst a bed would have been more comfortable, I will never regret it. You shouldn’t either.”

The American made a pretence of tucking the sweater around his partner.

“I raped you.” The pain in the cultured voice shocked Illya more than the admission. He cursed as his hands still shook when he reached out and gripped Solo’s shoulders to stare him in the eyes.

“You are not capable of hurting me, not even in a fit of anger Napasha, and certainly not that way. I refuse to regret having sex with you.”

“But.”

“Nyet!” Illya commanded as he covered the American’s mouth with his own. “I love you. Now take me home.”

Solo crushed the smaller man against his chest, grateful not for the first time to the benevolent god who saw fit to allow Illya Kuryakin into his life. He conveyed with his arms and body more than any words could ascribe to the moment. Telling the man that he loved him, holding the soul gently with more reverence than he thought possible and knowing that his future would always be bound inexplicably by the love he had for the Russian.

“Thank you, my love.” Solo whispered.