It was as if his perception of the world as he knew it had been turned  inside-out.

Napoleon allowed Illya Kuryakin's smaller, pale hand encircle his own, gently but insistently pulling him from the place he had awoken from a near-death sleep into another room where several pairs of eyes looked up, expressions ranging from uncertainty to...hope? No...not likely that. Except...that his reticent, blonde companion had uttered the cryptic promise that he, somehow, had an important role to play...in a battle between ancient forces of light and dark.

It was more than a mere perception -his beliefs *were* being turned inside out. The world that Napoleon Solo had always known -the one where evil was a state of mind expressed by men and women, wielding guns, knives and chemicals
on the innocent- was not the only one...and his partner -his partner whom he had always assumed believed only in what he could qualify and quantify and put in a neat mental box- believed in this strange world of good and evil too.

And Illya loved him.

As he loved Illya.

Had always loved him -he knew that now.

If such unlikelihoods could be real, could be trusted in, so could whatever Illya asked  of him now.

"Come, Tovarisch." Napoleon started, unaware that he had halted in his step, continued forward towards a closed door. Immediately, a tall brooding man stood up, blocking their way. "No, Illya Nickovitch -he must not-"

A cold fire that Napoleon knew so well flared in the slighter Russian's eyes, a familiar harbinger for the wakening of the violent nature that lay beneath the icy veneer, a hidden nature that would have been acted upon but for the interference of an older Russian whom his partner introduce as "Sergei". "Do not interfere. This is as it must be."

The room to which they went was dark, lit only by a few candles, rough cushions on the floor, a low table in their midst on which sat a book; large and weathered by time. Illya grasped his partner's face in his hands. "Napasha...you must understand...much of this is as though new even to me. I was made aware of my place in these matters from very young."

Napoleon caressed the pale countenance. "And , perhaps, you wanted to forget, Tovarisch?"

"Da..."A slight smile turned the pale, full lips. "But we all have our destinies. It was assumed that Roland's place was to be at my side in the coming days -but it is not to be...perhaps, it never was. I have come to know this only recently." At that, the Russian reached toward the Bible-like tome, slender fingers causing impossibly fragile pages to turn, one by one, until
they stopped at one particular page. Napoleon's grasp of Russian was rusty, and the text within the book was of an age long past, but he understood enough to read a fraction of the writ beneath an equally ancient etching. "In those days hence shall there be twins in heart and mind to destroy the great hammer that would sunder the world..."

Napoleon's mouth fell slack as he leaned closer, seeing in the etching what he had not seen before; two male warriors -one dark and tall, one slight and fair...

...and both so very familiar.