The minutes inched past as Illya sat and held his vigil as he had promised
himself. Plenty of quiet. Plenty of time to think.

Waverly had given him a good dressing-down about his defiance of hospital
rules (though the old man had admitted, begrudgingly, a certain sympathy
with the Russian's actions), and for his refusal to obey the duty nurse's
insistence that he leave, forcing her to take...unusual steps?

Illya's brow furrowed -something about that didn't ring true.

One of the possible side-effects of a Special's tranquilizers was temporal
lobe amnesia -or a temporary loss of memory. And while it was true that
there was still a frustrating haze shrouding the details of that incident,
he remembered one thing quite well: he had *not* refused to leave Napoleon's
room as he had read in the report she had made. Why would she have lied?
Why--

Napoleon groaned restlessly and Illya reached, tentatively and then with
more assurance, covering Napoleon's hand with his own, feeling the slightly
elevated warmth that met his cooler skin. "Shhh...'Polya...easy," Illya
whispered. "Rest now. I am with you." A soft smile moved the dreaming man's
mouth as he seemed to relax, drifting deeper into Morpheus' realm - but not
before drawing the paler hand to his lips and placing a kiss there. "Je t'
adore, mon petit chou..." he sighed, slipping finally into a more restful
sleep.

Illya's mouth remained a slack "o" as he gazed upon his partner. He had
understood the whispered words -was French not as familiar to him as his own
native tongue? Napoleon loved him? But no -the words had been spoken by a
man hardly on the cusp of consciousness...nothing to take seriously. Were
they?

Couldn't they be?

Before the Russian UNCLE agent could berate himself for entertaining foolish
sentimentalism, he was startled as the lights suddenly went black, a weak
sanguine glow taking their place as emergency neons took their place. He
drew his Special as the door to the private room parted slightly,
a security agent cautiously peeking in - "Better stay here while I check
this out, Sir. Probably a common power outage, but--" He shrugged and
slipped out again.

Illya's eyes narrowed in suspicion -power outage...possibly, but he had been
taught to be cautious in all things. Especially blackouts. He heard muffled
steps outside the door -that security agent was certainly quick to return-
but something...*something* tickled at his senses as the door inched open.
Something...

...a familiar scent...

...of hospital antiseptic and perfume.

---

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