Illya dozed in the back seat of the small car; dimly aware of his surroundings, he lay curled in Napoleon's strong arms. The older agent tucked the blankets around the blond man. For one of the very few times in his life, Illya actually felt safe.

"Pasha?" His soft voice was heavy with accent as he turned to lay his head on Solo's chest.

"Yes, love?" Napoleon let the fine silk strands of blond hair glide through his fingers.

"Hmmm. That's nice. Where are we going?"

"Home."

"New York?" Illya sounded confused.

"No, back to Bodie and Ray’s."

"Oh, okay." Illya nestled further down as sleep claimed him.

Solo wiped a hand across tired eyes as he looked out the car window, the thin light of morning bathing the regal charm of the city in a pale golden shroud. So like so many other cities Solo had travelled to over the years. So many beautiful places ignored because of the horror of his work. The only real solidity of those years was wrapped securely in his arms as his friend's deep breathing touched his heart.

"Still confused?" Doyle asked softly so as to not wake the sleeping man and caught the American’s worn eyes in the rear view mirror.

"A little, not as bad as I thought it would be."

"He seems to be all right with you now."

Solo pinched his lower lip as he looked down. "Yes, we're fine."

Doyle opened his eyes wide as a slow smile curved his sensual mouth. "He remembers?"

The American ducked his head to hide the faint blush that stole across his cheeks. "Yes, he remembers."

"Excellent. Did the U.N.C.L.E. data files have any more luck with the bar staff than we did?"

"No, a couple of sleazy drug dealers and one ex-hooker but no-one we can tie to THRUSH or Chris. Apparently the Ketamine that was given to Illya was of a pharmaceutical grade and would have had to come from a veterinarian's office or a chemical laboratory."

"There are only five companies that manufacture the stuff legally in this country, and one of their employees would have to be a mule," Doyle added as he turned the corner and tooled the little car smoothly around the quiet deserted streets.

"Have you got any contacts still in the drug squad?"

"Don't need them. Murphy and Jax are working that end of town now. A big narcotics ring is pressuring a government chemical lab into producing methamphetamine for the street market, high crystal meth in particular. So we can do a background on the people there, see if one fits the profile."

"Good, we could use a break. If Chris has a mule in this city, no doubt he has several others around the world. I am sure U.N.C.L.E. would like to plug the leak of the major sponsors of an international drug community."

"The Cow is coming over for breakfast to discuss the situation. You think Illya will be up to it?"

"If I know the hard-headed Russian he will try, but I doubt it."

"A few cups of strong tea and some eggs, he'll be fine. Has he always been so thin?"

Napoleon lovingly rubbed his hand across the swollen pectorals hidden within the cocoon of blue wool. "Yes, unfortunately he finds it hard to keep weight on."

Doyle laughed. "I know several CI5 people who would love such a problem."

"The DMSO came back positive." Napoleon resettled Illya in his arms, as the blond grew restless.

"Shit." Doyle's eyes changed colour, the green deepening to almost jade as he watched the road. "Which means that Chris either did manage to get in at home or..."

"The "or" does not bear thinking about," Solo said softly. "The thought of having a leak in the London office or in CI5 does not inspire confidence."

"So it was prescribed here then? I was hoping Illya had it in New York and it was tampered with in transit."

"No such luck. The cold and damp made his shoulder ache and it was prescribed here in London less than twenty-four hours after we arrived."

"Great." The sarcasm could not be missed and Solo smiled. "Which shoulder is it?" Doyle asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Hmm? Oh,the left."

"The one Bodie shot?"

Silence.

"Chipped the bone, sometimes it still aches," Solo answered at length.

"Has he told you what happened back then?"

"Not in detail, but then I guess I haven't bothered to ask. It’s enough that they are being civil to each other."

"Let sleeping dogs lie," Doyle answered. "Bodie hasn't told me either, but then of late he hasn't said much to me at all about anything."

"The problem with sleeping dogs is that they tend to wake up and bite."

"So I am beginning to find out."

"Are you and Bodie having problems?"

Doyle shook his head. The morning sun caught his curls a glancing blow and they shone copper gold. "I don't know, Napoleon. If he talked to me perhaps I could find out."

"Is it because of Illya?"

Ray knew instinctively that he could lie and that Solo would never know, but in that moment when his eyes sought and found the dark orbs watching him critically in the rear view mirror, the truth was known.

"I think Illya was the catalyst to a lot of conflict in Bodie. This case is certainly hard for him to deal with, and the mutilations on the first victim left him unsettled. Not mentally but emotionally, that a man can do that to another. And now Illya has been got at, the threat that we are not safe in our own home, it is hard to accept. How do you do it?" Doyle needed time to think, to order his mind so that the confusion would pass into order.

"It's easy really." Solo smiled.

"Do tell." The light easy tone was back in Ray's voice.

"The only time I am ever safe is when Illya is watching my back. The only time I can sleep is when I know he is in the room with me. And that was before I finally admitted to myself that I loved him."

"And now?"

"Now?" Solo laughed, a light sound filled with anxiety. "Now I would die if I lost him."

Doyle pulled the little car into the driveway and flicked off the engine. "Exactly," he whispered.

~~~oooOOOooo~~~

"Aye laddie, what have ye got?" Cowley asked gruffly as he accepted a cup of hot tea from Doyle. Freshly showered and shaved, Solo felt something bordering on normalcy.

"Theory and conjecture mainly," Bodie answered as he stirred the eggs.

"I have no truck with theory, gentlemen, I need facts."

"We have almost too much to go on. One redeeming feature is the use of Ketamine on Illya." Solo spoke softly but knew he had the attention of everyone in the room.

"Aye?"

"It was a particular grade. Our labs have found certain trace elements that narrow’s the production down to one of only two companies in the greater London area - one of which is currently the subject of investigation by CI5."

"Aye, O'Connel Industries. Murphy and Jax are on that case."

"We believe that our man has a mule working within the organization and may well be the same person who jeopardized their security to the drugs cartel recently."

"You seem very well informed," Bodie whispered as he put the laden plate in front of the American.

"I ah, read the files this morning."

"Really?" Bodie asked, unsure of why he was disturbed by this fact.

"All domestic agencies make their case files available to U.N.C.L.E. to catalogue in the data files. It's common practice."

"I didn't know that," Ray turned to look at Cowley.

"I understand you're attempting to establish a link between the bar staff and known criminal history." Cowley folded his glasses as he picked up his cutlery and began to devour breakfast.

"Yes sir, we were focusing on those with a background in the drug or chemical industry. Unfortunately, when the computers came up empty we went further afield, using different search parameters."

"And?" Doyle asked suddenly uneasy.

"We have a match." Solo reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a black and white fax copy of a face. Bodie shook his head as he passed the picture to Doyle.

"Bloody hell," Doyle exclaimed. "Claude Jenkins, Illya's friend from Cambridge."

"The Soho bar." Cowley took the picture and smiled. "Aye lad, well done indeed."

"I have made the full case file that we have on Mr. Jenkins available to your agents, sir. He has a rather ambiguous history. He left Cambridge and got a scholarship grant for business in Switzerland. Our offices linked him to several suspected THRUSH activities in the banking cartel under assumed identities before he dropped out of sight and ended up in Melbourne, Australia. He has been the subject of investigation for several years and is a well known operative in South East Asia. We believe he was instrumental in setting up the Korean and Japanese chapter of THRUSH through international business connections."

"And his doctorate in Cambridge was...?" Bodie asked around a mouth full of egg.

"Chemist."

"Aye, and what did your records find on O'Connel Industries?"

"The company itself is sound although it speculated rather heavily in the late sixties and lost a good deal of capital. Lusanne Primary Products bought into the beleaguered company several years later and together they were granted several large government contracts for the produce industry. Their major claim to fame is the discovery of the veterinarian anesthetic Ketamine. Since then they have been a pillar of the business world until mid last year."

Solo paused to sip his tea, and found conversely he was beginning to acquire a taste for the liquid. He took several seconds before he continued.

"The CEO of the company went through an acrimonious divorce where many allegations of infidelity were touted along with dodgy business practices. During this, a scandal emerged concerning the gentlemen in question and several under aged girls. He later committed suicide and the new current director was appointed. Since then their profit margin does not match production."

"Creative bookkeeping?" Doyle asked.

"On the contrary they made too much money. I did a recon on the Swiss company and found that prior to the takeover the corporate structure did not exist. In short, gentlemen, the company was created for this one specific reason, to legally maintain a foothold in British soil."

"And the money came from THRUSH?" Cowley frowned.

"Yes, sir, all seven hundred million pounds."

Doyle pursed his lips and whistled. "That is a lot of money."

"Too much for the company they purchased. Nevertheless, we now have the mule and he should be able to lead us directly to the man himself."

Cowley nodded. "You have enough evidence to hold him on?"

Solo shook his head. "International covenants being what they are I doubt it. Since he is most likely not a British subject, he would need to be transported under U.N.C.L.E. law to the country that has first claim on him. In this case it would be South America."

"And the problem with that is?" Bodie asked.

"The problem is that the South American dictator rose to power with his assistance. Within a matter of days he would be free to roam the world again, continuing his campaign."

"I suppose shoot to kill would be out of the question?" Doyle questioned and Cowley gave him a cutting look.

"Aye, laddie, I understand well what you're saying but there is a but to this so out with it," Cowley intoned folding the linen napkin across his knee.

"Yes, well, there is a lot of speculation, sir, but for the moment if we can suspend reality long enough to accept that Illya and I are his primary targets. The U.N.C.L.E. agent's home hemispheric office takes jurisdiction over his welfare."

"And U.N.C.L.E. will be openly hostile if he is after one of their own," Bodie smile, open admiration on his face at the workings of Solo's mind.

"Or two as the case may be. Sir, I suggest we follow a diplomatic course of action. Jenkins is a prize catch for both of our agencies, however, if he can give us a face and an address we will then know who we are fighting. He has made too many personal connections in this matter for the target to be anyone else other than myself and Illya. You said yourself this is a grudge match."

"Aye, I did as well. I'll have Murphy and Jax put a tail on our Mr. Jenkins and see what they come up with. In the meantime the four of you will be sent to York. The Prince of Wales will be conducting an official event there in a weeks time. You will be in charge of security."

"In accordance with this situation, U.N.C.L.E. London has arranged for Prince Charles to be under protective custody outside of Britain for the duration." Solo tapped his pen communicator on the table top.

"U.N.C.L.E. has made the Prince aware of the situation?"

"Yes sir, Ed Harris has worked with the Royal Family on a number of occasions. Another member of the Royal household will attend the event in York, his Royal Highness will be dipping his toes in the Caribbean. As UNCLE Alex is fond of pointing out, we are the expendable ones." Solo said with a soft smile.

"Aye, I know Alex very well, far too well to doubt the sincerity of that statement."

"Sir."

"If as you say this is to avenge himself on both you and Illya then we should know within the week. Your White Wolf will have many opportunities to attack. If he fails to make a move however, we will consider the original targets intact."

"Agreed." Solo closed his eyes for a moment.

"How is your partner?" Cowley asked as he laid a gentle hand on Solo's arm.

"A little confused, sir, but otherwise intact."

"I am glad to hear it. Contrary to his own remonstrations I should hate to be the one to break the news to Alex." Cowley stood as Doyle helped him on with his coat.

Napoleon listened to the sound of the front door opening, when he became aware of Bodie's level gaze.

"How did you find the connection?" Bodie asked as he packed the dirty dishes away into the sink.

"When all the normal searches failed I tried something personal. It seems that Mr. Jenkins and Illya have a historical connection. During the course of an assignment, Illya inadvertently shot his partner through the skull."

"That's gotta hurt." Bodie winced.

"Yes, the partner Illya shot was Jenkin's wife."

"His wife worked for THRUSH?"

"No. Claude's wife worked for U.N.C.L.E."

"Now I am confused." Bodie frowned.

"Jenkins and Illya did meet at Cambridge, that much is true. Several years later Mr. Jenkins met and married a pretty girl called Peri Carter. She was an U.N.C.L.E. agent on assignment from the London office who changed sides. She was also a senior officer in the Command at the time. A lot of information had passed from that office to THRUSH and we lost several good agents in the double crosses. Most of them were tortured by THRUSH before they died, and all of them fell at the hands of their arch-rivals. Illya had only been in the office for a few weeks before he found the link."

"Peri Carter no doubt."

"No doubt. Ed Harris was CEA of London and Peri was his partner. Illya proved the case to his superior who was loathe to believe it - well, who would? But during the course of an affair, Ms. Carter put a gun to her partner's forehead and Illya shot her. We only found out who her husband was recently."

"As of this morning, right?" Bodie asked.

"Right. Anyway Mr. Cowley wants us to go to Whitehall and go over the security arrangements."

"And Ray and Illya?" Ray asked, coming back into the kitchen.

"Get the day off," Solo announced.

"A whole day off." Ray beamed at his lover who scowled.

"Well, not quite," Solo added, wiping the smile rapidly from Doyle's face.

"Ah, I should have known! Here comes the but….."

"The doctor wants Illya to sleep as long as he can and eat as much as possible over the next twenty four hours, and you, I am afraid, get to babysit one recalcitrant Russian," Solo smiled.

"Hey how bad can he be? I mean, I get stuck partnered with that for years, think I can handle one small blond Russian," Doyle said, deftly dodging the tea towel Bodie flung in his direction.

"Don't bet on it," Solo answered as he pulled the greatcoat about his dark suit. "Illya has got to be the worst patient in history."

"Yeah, make sure he doesn't have his gun," Bodie added as he fell into step with Solo.

"Or anything sharp," Solo amended.

"Great Laurel and Hardy! Anything else?" Ray glowered.

Bodie stopped and reached back, claiming Ray's lips in a long slow kiss, "Yeah, have dinner ready."

"Bastard," Doyle whispered.

Bodie smiled and followed the American out into the chilly grey morning.

~~~oooOOOooo~~~

Bodie had never enjoyed the tedium of Whitehall. The endless popinjays who thought of themselves as the movers and shakers of society and progress bored him with their petty concerns and contributed little to the overall sanity of their country.

By three in the afternoon he was ready to hit the next stuck-up arrogant SOB and show him how low he could stoop. Solo had effectively ran interference and rescued his new partner several times during the course of the day.

By four in the afternoon he was ready to kill and fingered the butt of his gun restlessly. Several times he wondered how long he would get in jail for disposing the country of another bigoted small minded parasite.

By five in the afternoon, Major Cowley interceded on both their behalf when Solo was hard-pressed to stop Bodie from setting a senator on fire with his remarks about the colloquialisms of the United States.

Now nearly six, Bodie suffered the indignities of peak hour traffic in the exodus from the city as Solo read the files on his lap.

"Free at last!" The Englishman's attitude finally cheered as his RT beeped.

"Alpha to three seven."

"Three seven." Bodie flipped the receive button.

"Jax and Murphy have targeted the suspect. They will report direct to you and Mr. Solo." Cowley's voice was clipped as he spoke, the background noise suggesting he had not escaped Whitehall as yet, and Bodie cringed inwardly, a moment of sympathy spared for the old man.

"Sir, since we don't know how the Ketamine was introduced into Illya’s kit, might I suggest we run this as an Operation Susie?"

Solo squinted in the afternoon sun as he turned to look at Bodie, the silence from the RT weighing heavily on the two agents.

"That is a negative, Bodie. Repeat negative." The old man's brogue became more pronounced when he was pressured.

"Sir."

"Alpha out."

Bodie looked at the RT as he put it back on the dashboard of the car and gunned the engine.

"Operation Susie?" Solo finally asked.

"Yeah, no contact. We go in without backup. Since I am unsure who I can trust in this situation I thought it might be prudent to close the channels of information before it was turned against us."

"Hmm. Well, be that as it may, I suspect that we shall be able to close down a fairly large portion of THRUSH Central Europe, which in turn will make your jobs a little easier."

"How?"

"THRUSH tend’s to help escalate all military situations when it suits their purpose, the IRA being the flavour of the month at the moment."

"Well old son, I am all in favour of having the job made a little easier."

"Personally I could very well do without the job at all."

Bodie frowned as he took the corner a little too sharply. "Thinking of retiring?" the Englishman asked.

"Doesn't everyone? Illya and I are at the top of THRUSH's ten most wanted list and even if we do retire from the field and U.N.C.L.E. completely there is no way we would survive into our old age. I can't protect him and before you say anything he can't protect me without the backup of the Command."

"So what happens when you do leave U.N.CL.E.?" Bodie was curious and slowed the car down to the legal limits.

"I don't know. Firstly we have to live long enough to get there. But the mandatory retirement age from Field Ops is forty. If I take the party line and become Chief of the New York office then Illya has the options of staying in the game as either CEA of Section Two or CEA of the labs." Solo shrugged, the small elegant gesture so typical of the American that Bodie nearly laughed.

"So you're like the big chief heir apparent to what? Waverly's chair?"

"Heir apparent maybe, I already run Section Two Operations." Solo went back to perusing the paperwork in his lap.

"And Illya is?"

"Section Two number two."

"Good to know that U.N.CL.E. has long term plans for its agents."

Solo laughed out loud, "No, Illya and I have been lucky. We lose an agent a month, sometimes more depending on the circumstances."

"What? From death?"

"Amongst other things, people burn out, can't take it anymore, want to have a life." Again the shrug. "It's no different from CI5 in reality."

"Yeah, but we come from a different stock."

"How so?" The American gave up the pretence of reading and concentrated on the conversation at hand.

"Most of us in CI5 have come from the law enforcement or military backgrounds."

"And where do you think U.N.C.L.E. recruits from?"

"You're not ex-military?" Bodie asked, his mouth agape.

"Certainly am, my friend. Been to war and fought for the old red, white and blue."

Bodie pulled the car into the driveway, taking the few moments to lock the vehicle away to digest the new information. His respect for the man's abilities growing by degrees, he began to relax and smiled to himself as he put the key in the front door.

The small house was in semi-darkness, a delicious aroma filled the air. The scent of fresh hot bread baking in the oven, the rich meat casserole that simmered in the pot made Bodie smile. He loved it when Doyle cooked. It made him feel at home, and loved.

"Ray?" he called softly.

No answer.

His senses went on alert as he walked the long narrow hallway and peeked into the kitchen on the left. The table was clean and empty and the aroma stronger. He frowned and turned to look at Solo who managed to move past him into the living room without a sound.

Bodie holstered his gun as he stood shoulder to shoulder with the American and looked down at the two men curled asleep in the large leather lounge chair.

Like dormice, they were twined around each other, Illya still in his blue cotton pyjamas and slippers, rested his head against Doyle's chest. The blanket was clutched up high under his chin and Doyle's arm wrapped in a protective and comforting embrace around the Russian.

Ray moved, his jeans visible under the blanket and his tee-shirt stained with white flour patches.

"You, ah, wake yours, I'll get mine?" Solo whispered, his eyes never leaving the two sleeping forms.

"Done." Bodie moved over to the chair and ran his hand through Doyle's auburn curls, brushing them back from the forehead. "Hey, Sunshine," he said softly and Ray blinked up blearily to Bodie's face hovering only inches from his own.

"Hey," Ray said softly as he looked down at the man curled in his arms. "They're home."

Illya burrowed deeper.

"Illya." Solo crouched by the chair and called softly.

"Illya." He tried again. This time the blond stirred and opened a blue eye.

"Pasha?" The Russian answered softly.

"Yeah. What's going on here?" Solo answered looking from one set of blue eyes to green and back.

"Illya had a bad dream - compliments of the Ketamine - and was a bit shaky," Ray answered as he managed to stand, extricating himself from blanket, Russian and chair all in one swift movement.

"Illya?" the CEA asked.

"Hmm. Childhood memories, Napasha, I'm okay." Illya assured, pulling the American into his arms.

Solo smiled as he allowed the blond to pull him into the chair and claim his lips.