This was *not* the way it was supposed to have been.

Stiff sheets rustled softly as Captain Solo turned over onto his side and felt himself compelled to lightly stroke the satiny, blonde hair of his -what? Partner? Lover? Both words seemed equally  interchangeable...equally appropriate while his usual term "conquest" did not.

No, this was definitely not the way it was supposed to have been.

He was not supposed to have felt anything more than the usual  physical thrills.

He was not supposed to...fall in love?

Yes.

That *was* it.

He was in love.

It went against all his training and experience. He had gone in this  time as he had many times before, knowing that the ever-present  danger of going undercover, of acting a part...was that one could be  tempted to actually believe in  the charade. One could be tempted to give a damn about one's enemy.

Enemy.

The THRUSH officer sighed softly. If he were to be truly honest with himself, he was not completely certain that he could convince Illya  Kuryakin to join THRUSH, an organization that the Russian had fought  almost all of his life. Though he had always thought that the way of  THRUSH was ultimately for the greater good, it was a hard way...a
strictly regimented way...and under the ice he now knew as a facade,  his Illya was like the Siberian tiger. Rare. Wild. And ultimately untamable.

Somehow Solo could not actually envision that fiery spirit easily  caged.

But...they could be together, he and Illya -in THRUSH- and the key to  that potential happiness was the knowledge locked in theRussian's head. Surely not too great a price to pay...

...was it?

Napoleon drew a strand of gold away from blue eyes closed now in  sleep, and leaned closer, daring here and now to say what he feared  to were his little Russian awake to hear him. "I love you, my  Illyusha. For you I'd walk through fire."

A small, tentative smile formed on the full lips beneath his and  crystalline eyes met his. "God help me. I...love you too, Napasha."

Neither of them heard the faint click of metal against metal as a  door that had once been ajar was carefully pulled shut.

Shod footfalls echoed hollowly against the filthy, rain-wet concrete, the rank odor of putrefying trash, causing the walker's lips to curl with revulsion. Such a place to meet his contact...but he did not  question. He never questioned orders.

Just then, a shadow, human in shape, withdrew from the multiple  ethereal masses of darkness and stood directly in his path. "Returning to roost?" came the question.

"I never truly left it," came the reply.

The correct coded response given, his contact nodded. "So...you have a report." It was not a question.

"Yes. Unfortunately, it would seem that Captain Solo might have grown too close to his primary target. I'm no longer certain we can trust him to complete the mission."

"I see." The silence hung as heavily as the damp, foul-smelling  air. "And you are no closer to the renegades' innermost circle."

"Not even after my apparent efforts on their behalf -I suspect that they've never fully trusted me."

"This will necessitate a change in plans. The information Kuryakin harbors is vital to THRUSH."

"I've already discovered a way to encourage Kuryakin to talk."

"Oh? Explain."

"As I indicated, Captain Solo has developed a strong attachment to Kuryakin -that feeling is reciprocated. Kuryakinn has apparently  fallen in love with the Captain -it is certain that the Russian would  respond as we wish...if any real threat were directed towards his  lover instead."

More silence -this time, the stillness of open awe. "You...would be willing to make this possible?" There was a nod. "Truly,
General, you will receive THRUSH's highest honors for your personal sacrifice."

Don Julian Solo smiled coldly. "It is no sacrifice -I am THRUSH...as is my son. He will understand...he will have to."