"Napoleon!!??  No!!!"

The scream woke Solo from the light doze into which he'd fallen.  He was at the bedside before the echo died.  "I'm here, love.  Lie still", he commanded, softly.  "You're safe."

But the Russian ignored the command, instead he brought his hands up, the fists were balled, his eyes remained closed.   "I will not let you have him!!", he cried out to an enemy only he could see.

Solo, finally realizing where the Russian's fear lay, gripped the failing fists.  "Be calm, Illyusha.  I'm here."

Illya obeyed but still would not open his eyes.  "Prove it", he demanded.

Solo pried the fists open and covered the pulsing  scar on the Russian's palm right palm with his own..

"Napasha!". Illya sighed in relief, the tension and fear slowly draining from his tortured body.  Slowly he opened his eyes an dinstantly looked into dark brown ones filled with concern and love.  He made a weak attempt to rise but felt Solo's strong arm pushed him backonto the pillows.

"Please, Illya, rest.  Your body needs to heal."

Illya tightened his grip on their clasped hands and pulled himself  upright using Solo as leverage.  "Not until we've talked, Napasha!", he insisted.  "Please......"

"As you wish, love.  Tell me."

 "Hold me, Napasha.  Swear to me that once you've heard me out you will do whatever I ask without question."

Napoleon frowned in confusion.  "Illya.....?"

"Swear it on your love for me", Illya demanded.

"I swear it", Solo replied, cradling his lover in his arm.  "Now, what's on your mind?"

Knowing that nothing could harm him while he was in the arms of his beloved,  Illya told Napoleon of his nightmare.

Solo listened with great interest and when Illya was finished he grinned.  "And your point is?"  The Russian opened his mouth to speak but Napoleon put a finger to the full lips.  "Remember our pledge, Illyusha."  He exerted pressure on the scars to enforce this point.  " The only thing that matters is that you're alive and we're together.  If the Devil wants a fight, fine.  WE will fight him, together."

Illya nodded, leaned forward and kissed Napoleon with great passion delighting the American's surrender.  When breathing became necessary, he drew back holding his lover's gaze.  "Now comes the hard part, Napasha, the keeping of your promise."

"So be it.  I'll be right back."  Rising Solo left the medical tent and a confused Russian.  Twenty minutes later he returned, the blood-stained broadsword Illya had used earlier raised above his head.  "He was mine, is mine and will always be mine!", Solo called out, then in one smooth arch, plunged the sword in Illya heart up to its' hilt.

"NO!!!!!", screamed 'The Devil' as his dark shade was drawn into the blade of the sword.

Ignoring the outburst Napoleon withdrew it then, grasping it by the hilt, hurled it back into the raging inferno that was THRUSH headquarters.

As the hilt pierced the inferno one last horrific scream filled the air, the inferno flared then died.

In the aftermath there were left three things: a group of stunned onlookers - both from THRUSH and the resistence;; two lovers cradled in each others arms - alive and free; and a peaceful silence.