For those of you who came in late....

Later that night at his apartment overlooking the city, Napoleon sat in his leather wingback chair going over the information in the Vulcan folder. He was dressed casually with a sweater to keep out the chill since it wasn't cold enough to light the fire in the fireplace. As he reached for the drink on the end table beside him, Illya Kuryakin entered and dropped his overcoat on the couch. "Guttenberg College Yearbook 1949 correct?" He asks as he passes it over to Solo.

"Thank you."

As Illya sat down on the couch and poured some cream into a cup he continued, "They have the autopsy report on the prisoners who died this morning."

"Let me guess. The autopsy showed they swallowed something before the attack." Napoleon responded as he leafed through the yearbook.

Pouring his coffee, Illya finished the statement Napoleon had started, "Capsules that dissolved hours later releasing poison into their system. Whether they succeed or fail they were dead men."

"Wasp probably told them it was some sort of stimulant to quicken their reflexes." He rose out of his chair and went to a nearby desk with the yearbook.

Illya joined him, still drinking his coffee. "Whose in the Yearbook?" he asked.

"I'm not sure yet." passing a clipping over to his partner, "This is a newspaper clipping dating 1949 with a picture of a sorority picnic."

Taking the clipping, Illya questioned, "Sorority?"

Sitting on the edge of the desk Napoleon informed him, "Yes, it's a club for girls. Now there's a blow up of a young man at the picnic, obviously Vulcan. He's listed as graduating with a degree in engineering."

Reading over the clipping Illya remarked, "In the group he appears to have his arm around a girl."

"Exactly, but we don't know her name." Napoleon continued to leaf through the yearbook.

"She's the one you use?"

"Vulcan has apparently wrapped himself in a protective cocoon. No friends, no women who seem to mean anything to him. Unapproachable. But a dozen years ago, judging by that picture he had a girl. Oh, here she is again." Pointing to a picture in the Yearbook. "Elaine May Bender of Middleton, New York."

Closing the book and setting it aside, he gave Illya a smoldering look, "I could be gone a long time."

Moving away to near the fireplace Illya turned his back to his partner and crossed his arms, "No way…absolutely not."

Coming up behind him, Napoleon wrapped his arms around the sexy blond and purrs into his ear. "Come on… you know you want to."

"What part of no do you not understand?" Illya demanded as Napoleon's hand slid over the tell tale bulge in his pants. Then giving in with a sigh he reached down to undo his belt buckle.

"No, let me." Said Napoleon as he moved to unbuckle the belt and unzip the pants while Illya toed off his shoes.

The pants made their way south and as he was positioned and prepared he stated, "You only do this because I'm Russian."

"No, I do this because you feel good. Isn't that why you do it, Tovarish?" Napoleon purred as he entered him."

With a low moan of enjoyment he responded, "No, I do it so you'll keep your mind on the assignment." He felt rather then heard Napoleons silent laugh behind him. Sometime later Napoleon withdrew and went to the washroom for a wet cloth, Illya being too limp to move. Illya finally pulled himself together enough to ask, "What would you do if anyone ever found out about this?" as his partner went about cleaning him and the sofa.

"I'd tell them it was your fault." Responded Napoleon as he put away the cloth and went to the closet to change his sweater for a tie and jacket.

"What!! My fault?" Illya said indignantly as he pulled up his pants.

"Sure, I'd say your government threatened to sanction you after ordering you to seduce me." Napoleon explained as he straightened his tie and retrieved his suitcase by the door. "Can I help it if you're good at your job?" He finished as he walked out the door.

"Na—po—leon." Illya sputtered as he rushed to the door and leaned out holding onto the door jam, "I'll get you for that."

As Napoleon entered the elevator he turned and with a wicked gleam responded, "I certainly hope so." As the elevator….door…closed.

And now-----

Title - The Missing Scene from The Vulcan Affair Illya entered Napoleon's office in shirtsleeve and holster, "Napoleon, Mr. Waverly thought this might be of some use to you."

"A Ruttenberg college yearbook. 1949." Napoleon said taking the book from Illya.

"Andrew Vulcan is listed as a senior with a degree in engineering, but what is more interesting is in his university days he also had…a girlfriend." Illya continued.

"Well that is interesting. According to his file a girlfriend is a luxury he hasn't permitted himself since then. And what is her name?"

Illya reached over to turn some pages in the yearbook, "She's the one." He stopped, pointing to a picture.

"Elaine May Bender of Middleton, New York," read Napoleon.

Laying the book aside he gave Illya a significant look, "I could be gone for quite awhile."

Walking way from the door, Illya turned his back to his partner and crossed his arms, "No way…absolutely not."

Coming up behind him, Napoleon wrapped his arms around the sexy blond and purred into his ear. "Come on. You know you want to."

"What part of no do you not understand?" Illya demanded as Napoleon's hand slid over the tell tale bulge in his pants. "Are you sure the door is secured?" Then giving in with a sigh he reached down to undo his belt buckle.

"No, let me, and yes, the door is secure." Said Napoleon as he moved to unbuckle the belt and unzip the pants while Illya toed off his shoes.

The pants made their way south and as he was positioned and prepared he stated, "You only do this because I'm Russian."

"No, I do this because you feel good. Isn't that why you do it, Tovarish?" Napoleon purred as he entered him."

With a low moan of enjoyment he responded, "No, I do it so you'll keep your mind on the assignment." He felt rather then heard Napoleon's silent laugh behind him. Sometime later Napoleon withdrew and went to the washroom for a wet cloth, Illya being too limp to move. Illya finally pulled himself together enough to ask, "What would you do if anyone ever found out about this?" as his partner went about cleaning him and throwing away paper that had gotten splattered.

"I'd tell them it was your fault." Responded Napoleon as he put away the cloth and stopped by the doorway long enough to pick up his suitcase.

"What!! My fault?" Illya said indignantly as he pulled up his pants.

"Sure, I'd say your government threatened to sanction you after ordering you to seduce me ." Napoleon explained. "Can I help it if you're good at your job?" He finished as he walked out the door.

"Na—po—leon." Illya sputtered as he rushed to the door and leaned out holding onto the door jam, "I'll get you for that."

As Napoleon entered the elevator he turned and with a wicked gleam responded, "I certainly hope so." As the elevator….door…closed.