Only hours before, Solo had felt supremely confident that his partnership with the beautiful blond, Illya Kuryakin, had reached a
level of trust that he had never felt with another human being. And now, that trust and perhaps even the partnership itself had dissolved like sun-swept mist.

***How could I have been so blind?*** Those words kept rotating through Solo's mind like a loop of film on a film projector.

Napoleon Solo, after years of daunting missions for UNCLE, had forced himself to become hardened to much of the pain in life. He had retained, however, a vulnerability where his partner was concerned. ***Why didn't I see that my trying to "spoil" Illya could be interpreted by that stubborn Russian as a form of seduction?***

***I read his personnel file.*** The reading of that file, while certainly not totally detailed, had given Solo a glimpse into the harsh life of Illya Kuryakin and some of the things that he had been forced to do just to survive.

Solo's greatest fear, however, was that he might subconsciously have been trying to seduce his beautiful friend. Solo knew in his heart how much he loved the slender figure who had become the single most important person in his often chaotic life. Solo knew that he had lost much of his objectivity when it came to Illya Kuryakin.

***Did I use my "good deeds to try and lure Illya to my bed?*** NO, his mind shouted but his heart grieved for his manifest insensitivity with regards to his friend's feelings. Dropping his head to his chest, Solo sat in one of the stuffed chairs that his apartment offered and contemplated the future.

Finally, Solo made a decision. ***I will apologize to Illya and make him understand that I did not mean what he thought. I will even tell him the truth about my motives for the seeming seduction. No matter what else, I cannot lose his friendship. ***What if he would ask for another partner?***

Just the thought of the loss of Illya - his Illyusha - as his partner sent tremors through his body.  Solo looked at his watch. It was now after 11:00 pm, but Solo was determined to talk to his friend this evening, but where was Illya?. ***Surely, he cannot be at his old apartment, it's been fumigated.***

Solo took out his communicator and opened a channel to UNCLE personnel. "Solo here, would Mr. Kuryakin have left a message about where he is now residing until his new apartment is ready?"

For a moment the communicator crackled as if the person on the other end was puzzled. Then finally, a hesitant response was given. "Mr. Solo, I believe Mr. Kuryakin is staying in one of the agent rooms here at headquarters.."

"Thanks, Solo out." Feeling slightly foolish, the thought immediately came to mind. ***I should have known that he wouldn't pay for a hotel room.*** Since it was now after midnight, most men would have given up the idea of talking to their friend that night and waited until the clear light of day, but Solo could not rid himself of the image of the blond whirlwind stalking out of their office.   Therefore, determined to right the wrong, he left for UNCLE headquarters.

Upon his arrival at UNCLE, Solo queried about the location of Kuryakin's room, but soon found that no one was there. ***Now, where could Illya be?*** Solo soon realized that the only possible place would be the lab.

As he approached the lab, Solo's vaunted courage dropped slightly. ***What if he doesn't want to talk to me?*** Finally picking his courage up from the floor, Solo quietly entered the lab.

Even though the figure in the lab coat was hunched over and could only be seen from the back, for a man in love with that figure, it was easy to tell that it was Illya Kuryakin.  Nevertheless, Solo hated to say something even though that had been his
heart's desire just a few minutes before. Therefore, he stood silently for a moment or more.

Without looking up from his work, Kuryakin quietly but clearly spoke, "Go away, Napoleon;  I have work to do."

The coldness in the voice badly shook Solo, but he was determined not to leave without explaining. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but couldn't you listen to me for a few minutes?"

The blond swiveled on the stool and turned to look at Solo. The beautiful red lips said nothing. The blue eyes were glacial, and the face was drawn in absolute worriness. Illya's pain and hurt was obvious from the way he forced himself to maintain a stiff posture with no support.

In a whisper, Solo begged, "Illya, you're exhausted. You should get some rest, but if it is all right with you, could we talk tomorrow - then looking at his watch again, corrected the end of the question to "today?"

For a moment Solo thought that Illya would not respond, but he finally did. "Napoleon, I am well-acquainted with my tiredness, but these experiments are important, and I must finish them before I leave."

"Leave?"

"Yes, Mr. Waverly has given me a new assignment in a few days, and I wish to have all my reports turned in before I depart."

"I'm not aware of a new mission"

"I am not aware of the status of your knowledge, but perhaps it is for the best. Now,  could you please leave, I have much work to do."

"All right, but I intend to talk to you whether you like it or not."

The rest of the night went rather quickly since Solo didn't get home  until almost 3:00 am. Nevertheless, Solo returned to UNCLE at a reasonably early hour so that he would not miss his friend who was not above avoiding him

Surprisingly, however, Kuryakin was in their office doing some reports when Solo entered.  After sitting at his own desk and pretending to do some paperwork for a few minutes, Solo finally broke the silence. "Illya?"

The blond looked up from his work, but remained silent, waiting for Solo to continue.  "Illya, I want to apologize if my offer offended you. I know I have taken you to some expensive places and other things, but I absolutely guarantee you that I only wanted you to stay in my guest bedroom so that you wouldn't have to deal with those cockroaches. Please forgive me. I don't want you mad at me."  Kuryakin continued to look silently at Solo which made Solo feel the need to continue to speak. "Illya, do you hate me?"

Finally, Solo saw a flicker of emotion in the beautiful blue eyes. In a voice so low it could hardly be heard, Kuryakin replied, "No, of course, not. I could never hate you. Perhaps, I overreacted when I heard your words. I accept your apology." Although the words seemed slightly cool, the warmth in the blue eyes thawed Solo's frozen heart slightly.

"Illya, I promise you that you will always be my partner and my dear friend, but you never need worry that I will make any other demands of you. I would never want to lose you as my best friend."

Strangely enough at those words, Illya's eyes seemed to reflect a moment of pain that was quicky covered up. Solo silently vowed to himself that he would never in any way, deed, or word compromise this hard won victory. Illya must remain his friend, even if that meant masking his love.

Solo gave one of his famous smiles and as long as one didn't look too deeply, the superficial sincerity stuck, but inside Solo felt a tremendous pain evelop his whole body.  ***Oh, Illyusha, what am I going to do?***

Illya Kuryakin bowed his head once more to his work, but that seeming dedication was only a cover for the very deep feelings that overwhelmed the blond. ***Oh Napoleon, I am such a fool. All I have ever wanted was to be your partner in all things. Now it seems, I have what I wanted. I am to share you in friendship and work, but not love. I would have gladly gone to your bed - even been your rentboy, but to be thrown over by you when you were tired of me , would have been unbearable. I . . .I
suppose your friendship will have to be enough.***

Over the next day and a half, the two men worked very hard at being friends. The natural banter between the two did not return, but they spent time together and Illya even paid his fair share. Perversely, Kuryakin badly missed Solo's "picking up the check."

Two days before Illya was to leave on his next mission, Alexander Waverly called the two men into his office. "I realize that Mr. Kuryakin will be leaving in a few days, but this is a high priority contact which should be finished easily before Friday.

The mission seemed to be perfectly straight forward. A minor official at the UN had requested political asylum, and the two men were to contact him. Since he had promised to deliver important documents about his own country, Waverly had coded it high priority.

The two UNCLE agents were to meet the man just north of the UN building by the East River.  After waiting a few minutes in the bitter cold, the man appeared. He handed some papers to Solo. but suddenly some shadowy figures appeared and within seconds all-out mayhem began.

The contact was quickly thrown into the East River. Although Kuryakin had received a partial blow to the head from some sort of hand gun, he leapt into the frigid water to rescue the drowning man.

As soon as Solo dispatched the would-be attackers, he rushed to the river to pull his partner and the contact from the river.

Rushing to UNCLE headquarters, Solo could see the two men trembling and shivering where they sat in the back seat of the car.   After turning the nameless contact over to security, Solo insisted that his friend go to the infirmary. With his usual bluntness, Kuryakin refused, but was overruled by Solo.  Escorting his friend to see Dr. Rosen, Solo waited outside. After
several minutes, the Dr. beckoned to Solo.

"Well, he does have a slight concussion and that dunking in the river certainly didn't help.  My prescription is to go home, get in bed after a hot shower and take some medicinal vodka."

"Thanks, Stanley. He will do exactly that."

For these words, Solo was the recipient of an icy glare.

As the two men left the infirmary, Illya headed towards his temporary room at UNCLE. Solo began to follow him. Kuryakin stopped abruptly causing Solo to crash lightly into the slender body. Solo noticed immediately the wince and grimace of pain issuing from his friend.  "Sorry."

"Napoleon, there is no need, whatsoever, to escort me to my room. I am quite capable of fulfilling Dr. Rosen's prescription."

"Yes, of course, you are, but this is UNCLE headquarters, and they frown on vodka-laced medicine, but I do know where there is a place that the prescription can be filled in its entirety."

Looking suspiciously at his friend, Kuryakin queried, "Where?"

"Well. . . uh. . .my place, AND before you go all Russian on me again. I absolutely promise that you will be safely installed in my guest bedroom. The only thing that I will do for you is make sure that the Stoli is in the freezer and that you have clean towels. Now how does that sound."

"Da, I accept."   The truth was that Kuryakin was not feeling too well after his little dip and the thought of bedding down in that narrow bed at UNCLE was very unappealing.

By the time that the two men arrived at Solo's penthouse in the car borrowed from UNCLE, Illya was feeling decidedly the worse for wear. His head ached a great deal, and he felt first cold and then hot. His stomach also felt nauseous, but he was determined not to let Napoleon know of his possible illness.

By the time that he finished his hot shower, Illya was feeling quite dizzy. He felt like collapsing on the bathroom floor so that he would be near the porcelain facility if needed in an emergency. Just then, however, Solo knocked on the door and asked if he was all right. Russian stoicism came to the forefront and enabled Illya to exit the room and make it to the bed before collapsing.

Solo helped his friend get under the covers and tucked him in. Solo did not miss Illya's flushed face and trembling body, but he was determined to do nothing that would cause the beautiful man a moment's anxiety. Solo was determined to be the perfect nurse - efficient, comforting, and impersonal, NO MATTER HOW HARD THAT WOULD BE.

Giving Illya one of the pills provided by Dr. Rosen, Solo pulled up a chair so he could sit by his friend.

As Illya began to drift off to sleep, the blue eyes suddenly opened to look at Solo. Moving his hand slightly, Illya pulled back his covers and moved further from the edge of the bed. Then the luscious, pouty, red lips uttered a phrase that made Solo's heart stop. "Pasha, I'm cold, help me."

Quickly, Napoleon removed his outer garments and got in bed. The sensual, but ailing body that was Illya Kuraykin cuddled up as tightly as possible against his friend and fell asleep.  Solo turned his head slightly and planted a light kiss on the
sweet-scented blond hair. ***I don't  know what's going to happen when you wake up in the mornng, tovarish, but I definitely like what we're doing tonight.****
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THE END