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He'd always tried to be punctual - after all, it gave his partner one less thing to complain about. Illya was quiet this morning. He'd been quiet as he'd crossed the sidewalk to stand by the curb as usual, meeting Napoleon's car as it drew up, and he didn't say anything as they drove to work either. Napoleon wondered what he'd done, but knew he'd find out sooner or later. Actually asking Illya was out of the question - if his taciturn partner was in a mood, he wouldn't say why till he was good and ready, while alternately if he was ready for an argument, Napoleon preferred to wait till they'd reached his office before the explosion took place. As they drove, Napoleon considered the possible reasons for Illya's attitude toward him and couldn't come up with an obvious explanation. That didn't worry him too much - he could be thoughtless and inconsiderate just as his partner could be snappy and unreasonable. That they still worked so well together despite their apparent personality clash was a tribute to the skill of UNCLE's psychological profiling and their own tenacity. All thoughts of Illya's temperament disappeared like morning mist as they drew up in front of Del Floria's. Or at least the place where Del Floria's tailor shop used to be. There was no sign of it now. "Why have we stopped here?" Illya's voice was terse and it jolted Napoleon back to reality from his contemplation of the florists that stood where the entrance to UNCLE New York should be. "That was last month's entrance to the satrap, you know it changed yesterday." Illya was watching him, his eyes glacially cold and Napoleon felt the intentness of his partner's gaze. "Changed?" He didn't dare ask about the other word Illya had used, the one that spoke 'Thrush' in volumes, suddenly knowing he wouldn't like the answer one bit. Illya was openly looking at him like he was an idiot now, scorn evident on his face. "UNCLE rule #247b - satrap locations must change on a regular basis, preferably monthly if the size of the locale allows for it." Illya sounded as if he was quoting something, rattling off the words with a bored tone, his eyes still intent on his partner. Napoleon tried to marshal his thoughts and gain control of his face at the same time, knowing he looked as shocked as he felt. Something was horribly wrong here - it was as if he'd woken up this morning and everything was upside down. UNCLE had satraps? He returned Illya's gaze, both gratified and a little surprised when his partner looked down. That wasn't like Illya, not at all - his partner, his real partner wouldn't be stared down, it wasn't in his nature regardless of the circumstances. "Of course," he said, getting out of the car. Illya was watching him still, covertly now, as he walked round to the passenger side, rolling the side window down as he approached the door. "Slide over," he continued. "You drive us to HQ." Illya just nodded, that submissive nod that rang loud alarm bells in Napoleon's mind, and slid over to the driver's seat. Napoleon opened the car door and got in, taking Illya's seat and watching as his partner put the car into gear. Maybe he'd fallen down a rabbit hole while he was asleep and this was Wonderland? It certainly wasn't the New York he knew, and this certainly wasn't his Illya Kuryakin. That was all Napoleon knew at the moment, but he was determined to discover just how and why he'd gone through the looking glass. They'd reached the UNCLE satrap soon afterwards, though Napoleon still struggled with the idea of thinking of it that way. They'd gone into what looked like an abandoned warehouse, headed into an old walk- in freezer and found themselves in a makeshift HQ. At least his office had looked relatively unchanged, though he wondered how they managed this if they moved premises so frequently. However, discovering that wasn't the first priority. Information about the current situation was and he had a source to hand, if used properly. He'd asked Illya to tell him about himself and his partner hadn't looked impressed by the idea. "Humour me." The words were those of a request but Napoleon made a conscious effort to ensure his tone made them an order instead. The sour look Illya gave him in response was more familiar than any expression he'd seen on his partner's face in the past few hours. "Very well. You are Napoleon Solo, Number One in Section Two of UNCLE North America." "UNCLE?" he prompted, wondering just where the similarities ended and the differences began. "The United Network for Coercion, Larceny and Extortion, of course," Illya replied, his tone that of someone who is explaining something simple to a small child. A small child who wasn't trying hard enough to understand. Like the Illya he was familiar with, this Illya clearly did not suffer fools gladly. "Of course. Do continue." "You are the Chief Enforcement Agent for North America," Illya said. "In your career you have killed more Thrush personnel than any other UNCLE agent, in a variety of ingenious and bloodthirsty ways. And I am your partner." "And you are?" Napoleon prompted, when Illya did not seem inclined to continue. "Illya Nickovetch Kuryakin," Illya continued, bringing his heels together and executing a small and precise bow of the head. "Formerly of the KGB." It was an odd gesture, not one that Napoleon had ever seen his partner make and there was something about the formality of it that chilled him to the bone. Something that told him that the Napoleon of this world and his partner were just that, nothing more. Colleagues, not friends - even that seemed a barely tolerated matter, based on Illya's obvious respect for Napoleon's bloodthirsty reputation more than any other factor. "How long have we been partners?" he asked. "Four years, three months." Illya was watching him still, his eyes wary now. "Is something wrong?" "Wrong?" "These questions." Illya's expression had gone from wary to openly worried. "You are dissatisfied with me." "No." He didn't know this Illya at all, so it was hardly a lie, and Napoleon couldn't imagine being dissatisfied with his own partner. "What if I was?" He'd almost guessed the answer before the question was out of his mouth. Illya's face lost what little colour it held, his eyes widening. "You know what would happen," Illya snapped. "You would kill me yourself to save UNCLE the trouble of sending someone else after me." Napoleon wondered whether his face gave him away, whether it showed the surprise he felt. He was working for an organisation where it was okay for him to kill his partner because he wasn't up to scratch? This really was another world altogether. "You are still pleased with me?" He almost didn't recognise Illya's voice, the slight edge of desperation giving it an unfamiliar quality. "Of course." He spoke the words without thinking, but they obviously weren't enough to convince. "If not, I could make it up to you," Illya continued. "Here and now." It took a moment for the words to sink in. It was as much the casual tone they were spoken in that disguised their true meaning as anything else. "You could." He didn't want to think about what this Illya was offering, didn't know how to ask what he meant. "You know I could." Illya was clearly becoming more convinced that Napoleon intended him harm in the very near future and that his actions now might defer or prevent that. He came closer now to where Napoleon was standing, looking up at him in a manner that was calculated and seductive, his eyes promising much. "That was why UNCLE purchased me from the KGB, remember?" Napoleon knew he couldn't have moved if his life depended on it. Purchased? That single word was enough to pin him to the spot. This Illya would do whatever he demanded and the very thought of it both excited and sickened Napoleon in equal measure. This Illya had no choice in the matter, his life depended on his continued compliance. This was not his partner, not the man Napoleon had trusted to watch his back for longer than he cared to remember now. But this Illya would also turn on him in a heartbeat - if the price or the reason was adequate - they were strangers indeed, even if this particular stranger wore a face as familiar to Napoleon as his own. Illya had taken his silence and stillness as agreement. His eyes were hooded now, all emotions shoved back under control as he focussed on the task at hand. On pleasing his partner enough to keep himself alive for another day. Even as Illya's hand reached for the zipper of Napoleon's pants and Napoleon pushed him away, he closed his eyes, thinking there really was no place like home. "Napoleon." The voice was familiar, the tone insistent. "Napoleon, you must wake up." He tried to pull away from it, tried to evade the commanding words but his mind was striking for the surface now, pushing towards light. He groaned, opened his eyes with some effort, found himself staring at his partner. "Illya?" The moment their eyes met, Napoleon knew he was back in Kansas once more. There was warmth there, concern as well, neither of which emotions he could ever have seen in the expression of the man he'd been calling partner more recently. "You were expecting someone else?" Illya's voice was terse, the worry he'd clearly been feeling something that he failed to hide. Napoleon pretended to ignore it, old habits dying hard, then wondered why he bothered. "The white rabbit, perhaps," Napoleon replied, trying to sit up. He was glad of Illya's hand on his arm, steadying him, as the world reeled around him for a moment. His head hurt. "White rabbit?" Illya echoed, looking puzzled now. Another familiar expression, another reminder for Napoleon that he had clearly fallen back through the looking glass into his own world again. Confusion was a sign of weakness and would not have been tolerated in his partner by that other UNCLE. "I'll explain later," Napoleon said. "What happened?" Illya's face clouded with anger. "An experimental Thrush drug. They decided to use you as their first human guinea pig." "Honoured, I'm sure." Napoleon's head was still pounding, but as the minutes passed he felt more and more alert, more and more certain he was where he was meant to be. "What was it meant to do?" "It was intended to be used in interrogation," Illya said. "It's also a hallucinogenic." "I'd noticed. Pretty powerful stuff." Illya looked intrigued. "Let's just say I was convinced by what I was seeing." "Anything in particular?" The scientist in Illya was clearly fascinated and Napoleon considered his answer carefully. He'd have to tell Waverly, of course, when it came to reporting back on his experiences, but there were certain things he didn't really want to share with his boss. Like what the thought of Illya on his knees had done to him, for example. He didn't want Waverly thinking anything untoward concerning his top agents, even if Napoleon fully intended to try to make certain elements of his nightmare experience in the looking glass world a reality in this one. "I'd be happy to talk about it at length, my friend," he said. His headache had dulled to a mild niggling pain now and Napoleon found himself more fascinated by the intrigued expression on his partner's face than anything else. If curiosity on its own wasn't enough, offering Illya food as an incentive was always a good idea. "Over dinner, perhaps?" Illya nodded, a small smile breaking out, and the final piece of the jigsaw dropped into place. The picture was whole, and he was home. While Napoleon might want that kind of intimacy with his partner, he also very much liked Illya just the way he was. Anything more than friendship would be a bonus, one he wouldn't say 'no' to if given the chance at some point in the future, but he wasn't prepared to lose everything in an attempt to gain that one thing more. "Thank you, Napoleon." "My pleasure," he replied.
~ fin ~
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