"Napoleon!" Illya immediately forgot about the dead
woman at his feet and rushed to his
partner's side. "Someone call for an ambulance!" he
ordered the crowd, reholstering his
Special and pulled the knife strapped to his ankle. He
used the ultra-sharp blade to cut a
strip from his shirt which he wadded up and pressed to
Napoleon's wound.

"Ambulance on his way!" a breathless scientist whose
nametag said, 'Dr. Bill Rogers.'

Illya nodded and continued to hold pressure on the
injury. "Stay with me," he whispered
into his friend's ear. And Napoleon WAS his friend,
Illya realized with surprise. They
hadn't known each other long, but he already trusted
him more than he ever trusted
anyone. Good thing Mr. Waverly would most likely turn
down his request to transfer back
to England. It would be embarrassing to have to ask
for an immediate transfer back to
New York. "Stay with me," he murmured again.

"Don't ...worry ... Tovarisch," Napoleon panted.
"Plan ... on being ... thorn in your side
... long time," Napoleon groaned in reply. "Hope you
won't ... mind if I ... sleep for
awhile ...." His voice trailed off as unconsciousness
took him.

Illya stiffened as cold, hard metal pressed into his
back. "He's not the only one who plans
on being a thorn in your side, Comrade!" an unfamiliar
voice sneered in Illya's ear.

---

This page is an unofficial site that exists only for the fun of it. All characters and situations from the television show "The Man from U.N.C.L.E." are property of Norman Felton and Warner Bros. Nothing ill is intended by this use of any television characters in these amateur efforts. Any fiction linked to these pages is the intellectual property of the amateur author who created it and is not presented here for profit.