Long, slender fingers ghosted over a hard, flat stomach; ice-blue eyes narrowed in concentration as Illya Kuryakin studied his reflection in the full-length mirror, the image in the glass appearing as puzzled as himself. The discussion with April had not helped ease the turmoil of emotions as much as he had hoped. She *had* explained, to the best of her ability, some of the mysteries of being a woman...the hidden knowledge about hormonal cycles and menstruation, about childbirth and the natural changes in a woman 's body during her lifetime...

...but he was not a woman.

Nor, perhaps, was he a man any longer.

Whatever had been done to him by his torturers -be they alien or human under one of THRUSH's numerous guises- he had been altered on a level far deeper than just the extensive advanced surgery. Further tests by UNCLE Medical indicated alterations on a genetic level, perhaps even in his DNA. He was producing far more female hormones than a normal male -he was certain that the effects were visible. Though not hairy normally, having not shaven in the last few days, there should have been *some* sign of a "five o'clock shadow", but there was not...and was that a slight widening of his hips? Definite changes.

But the surgery had also been subtle -except for two, tiny half-moon -shaped depressions on either side of his stomach -neither any larger than the fingernail of a small child's pinkie- there was no sign of any physical intrusion. No actual physical trauma. No sutures. In fact, the head of Medical had said that if he had not accessed Illya's medical files, he would have sworn that the Russian UNCLE agent had been born this way -a "medical anomaly" was the term that he had used.

"Freak" was the term that Illya's troubled mind provided.

Illya exhaled heavily as he re-buttoned his shirt -what now? The operation that had change him was beyond known science and could not simply be reversed -the secret of it all had disappeared with those who had performed the procedure. There *were* conventional -albeit crude- surgical methods to "remove" the most obvious evidence of his captors' tampering with his body...but there was that still, small voice within his head that, despite all logic and reasoning, whispered that maybe -just maybe- it wouldn't have been so bad a thing to bear Napoleon's child as the mysterious ones had wanted...but not for *them*. For Napoleon and himself.

Illya shook his head wearily -such foolish thinking. Perhaps his captors' therapies had included subliminal conditioning. Besides, the only person with whom he really wished to discuss these scary, growing feelings, hadn't been able to meet his eyes since the discovery of the changes.

just then, there was a rapping at the door, causing Illya to whirl on his heel, automatically grabbing for his automatic before he recognized the familiar pattern.

"Illya," came Napoleon's muffled voice. "Open up. We need to talk."

********************

"Scholar."

The being known as Scholar unwillingly drew her gaze from the monitor before her and frowned at the transient annoyance at being interrupted in her observations of her two human male subjects at such a critical moment. She lowered her brow in traditional obeisance in the presence of her superior. "Yes, Overlord."

"I understand that you are engaging in unauthorized experimentation."

Scholar's shimmering eyes narrowed at the sight of the human who obsequiously trailed behind the Overlord. this "Sepheran" was definitely an annoyance of which to rid herself. "Yes, Overlord, but these observations will provide us with necessary information on this planet's dominant species." She crooked a near smile. "Allow me to explain."