Epilog to the episode:

The Deadly Quest Affair

Synopsis:

Illya is in the hospital with a concussion and is kidnapped by Viktor Karmac, an old enemy. Held hostage as bait to lure Napoleon into a deadly trap, Illya waits in a sealed room. When Solo breaks into the room deadly poison will be triggered to kill both agents. First, though, Solo has to solve the puzzle of where Illya is being held. Then survive a maze of deadly traps, along with a ferocious jaguar. With only seconds to spare, Napoleon frees Illya, both nearly killed by the poison that ironically claims Karmac.

IN THE NAME OF FRIENDSHIP

by

GM

---

OCTOBER 31, 1967

"Good to see you back, Mr. Kuryakin. Section Two has not been as efficient without you or Mr. Solo to oversee things."

The rare praise was more of a homecoming than Illya expected from the gruff Waverly. The leader of UNCLE New York never indulged in personal asides, and so the Russian was both surprised and wary as he stood in the bustling command center of headquarters. Lisa Rogers, Waverly's assistant, came up behind him and handed him a folder.

"Medical insists I keep you on light duty for another week, Mr. Kuryakin, so you will have to supervise this Brazilian affair from here." Waverly was shuffling some reports and had not looked up from the desk since Illya's initial arrival. "Roberts and Pennington are in the field for this mission. Ought to do them good tracking THRUSH's missile installation in the jungle. They aren't very experienced with field work, but they know how to follow orders at least."

Kuryakin raised his eyebrows at the enigmatic remark that was spoken with such adamant condemnation. Was that supposed to mean something to him? Apparently. He had only come back to work this morning after recuperation from a concussion. His hospital stay had been interrupted when he had been kidnapped and held hostage by their old enemy -- Viktor Karmac. Trading places, Napoleon was now in the hospital with wounds sustained in rescuing him from Karmac's trap.

Typically, Illya had received little in the way of details from his partner. They both had come out of another desperate situation alive -- what else was there to say? A lot, actually, he ruminated, but he had decided -- considering Napoleon's weakened condition -- the senior partner did not deserve his wrath just yet. He would wait until later to tell Solo what a fool he had been to risk his life to rescue him out of the cell that was about to be gassed with lethal poison. He was grateful to be alive, of course, but watching Napoleon blithely walk into a trap -- used as the helpless bait to lure his friend to an ugly death -- had been most distressing.

"Is that all, sir?" Illya asked, rather anxious to be on his way. He sensed a lecture coming on and was unsettled because he really didn't know why Waverly was angry. An educated guess would reason it had something to do with Napoleon and the recent rescue. "I have a great deal of work to catch up on."

For the first time in the interview Waverly looked up at the agent and stared at him for a moment. "At the end of the week I shall be utilizing you again in the field, Mr. Kuryakin. I think with Agent Rand. Someone who can complete an assignment without confusing emotional ties with professional obligations."

"But Mr. Solo will be out of the --"

"Mr. Solo is on indefinite suspension. Mr. Rand will be your partner starting next week." He looked back at his desk. "That will be all."

Disturbed, but masking it completely with an icy mask of dread, Kuryakin slipped from the room, not acknowledging Lisa Rogers – Waverly’s assistant -- as she kept pace beside him. After the doors closed to Waverly's office, she slipped him a second folder, then wordlessly walked away. Solo kept teasing him that
Rogers had a crush on Illya, but there was no flirting involved between the two.

Not peeking at the material until he was in the privacy of his own office, Illya sat behind his desk and read the report detailing what had happened after his abduction. Karmac's diabolical message via the myna bird, the luring of Solo into tracking him. The clear notation in the report that Waverly was blanketing the area with troops to find him, even though it would endanger him, probably precipitate Karmac killing him. And finally, the specific instructions that Waverly had forbidden Solo to go off on his own into the certain ambush set by Karmac.

No wonder Waverly was upset about agents not obeying orders. The head of Section Two was not supposed to voluntarily throw himself into obvious snares of jeopardy. Angry, Kuryakin again wished to lash out at his partner for the stupid behavior. Yes, he was alive thanks to Napoleon, but what would he have done if the plan had worked and Napoleon was killed instead of him? His chest tightened at the familiar apprehension. So many times they came close to death -- too many times. For his friend to throw himself into the path of doom -- again -- for him -- was too much. Perhaps, he reasoned with an air of glum martyrdom, Waverly was right. Maybe it was time for their partnership to come to an end before it killed one or both of them.

***

When his pen beeped Illya was startled. He was engrossed in paperwork and did not expect anyone to signal on the communicator while he was inside HQ. That meant it was likely his partner.

"Kuryakin here." He almost smiled, wondering if Solo was going to complain again about the strict, unfriendly nursing staff of the hospital. It did the arrogant American good to be humbled by the forceful, domineering women.

"Illya, I need you to save my life."

Illya did smile then, but made sure it did not translate into his tone. "I believe I have already exceeded my quota for this month --"

"Illya! Just bring me some clothes as soon as you can. Please! My life depends on it. The doctor's signed my release."

The Russian checked the clock. It was nearing five in the afternoon. Catching up on the paperwork he had lost track of time. His amusement turned to momentary concern that Solo was considered well enough to leave the hospital. Ribs and an arm bone had been cracked in the fight with Karmac's jaguar. More serious was the possible infection from the claw and teeth lacerations received in the wrestling match. He was about to voice his worry, then thought better of it. He would discuss it with his partner when he reached the hospital.

"When can you be here?"

"I am so busy, Napoleon."

"Partner --"

"No use pleading, Mr. Solo," the Russian delightfully teased in his most stern manner. "We know your type --"

"Illya, please! Anything!"

"Anything?" he repeated with wicked savor. "Hmm, what is it worth --"

"Illya."

"What will you do if I don't come and rescue you from your savage confinement? Perhaps the nurses would like to see you escape without clothes --"

"Illya!"

The pleading was too much and Kuryakin took pity on the poor wounded agent. "All right. I'll finish up here and drop by your apart --"

"Just grab the carry on bag in my office. Please. I'll explain everything when you get here."

Just for an instant Illya was anxious about the urgency of the request. Was Napoleon really in danger? Could there be THRUSH agents lurking in the hospital? Had Karmac's minions returned to finish the revenge?

"Please."

He knew that tone and grinned. Napoleon was not in mortal peril, but some other kind of fix and Illya could probably name his price for the rescue. Too much had happened to them recently for him to even consider blackmail or extortion. He owed Solo way too heavily to play too many games. But he could play a few.

"Of course, Napoleon." he responded seriously. "I can be there after I finish this report for Mr. Waverly. It will only take about an hour --"

"Illya!" Solo nearly gasped. "You've got to be here before five-thirty! The night duty nurse, Miss Carstairs, is coming for me. You don't want my suffering on your conscience, do you?"

He remembered Carstairs. Well. Not even Napoleon deserved her unique methods of coercion and domination. Tone dry, he levelly admonished, "You are a fortunate man, Mr. Solo, that I have such a capacity for compassion."

"I will grovel at your feet later, partner, but please, just get here quickly."

"Only if you promise to reveal the entire, ugly truth behind you and the Carstairs woman."

"That is not funny!"

"I will be there in ten minutes." He clicked off the communicator and smiled. It was good to be back to the old games.

***

Riding through the quiet night streets of Manhattan, Napoleon felt a little foolish at his overly dramatic pleadings to his partner. At the time desperation had been real and the risk of unknown danger certain because he had run afoul of the head nurse at the hospital. Illya performed rescues on a regular basis -- hospitals included. It was only logical he come save him tonight. Now settled in the car with a thoughtful, silent colleague, Napoleon wondered what was going on in the complex Russian mind.

Sighing, he turned to his friend who was unusually intent on driving. "Long day at the office?"

"Long enough. Paperwork."

"Ugh. So, how is everything?"

"Fine."

Mmmm. Even more stoic than usual. Definitely something untoward and probably unpleasant had happened at HQ. Finding out obviously would not be simple. "News? Gossip?"

"Not much." His shrug was casual. Illya brushed at the bangs on his forehead. "Denton in Section Five is being transferred to Costa Rica next week."

"That will do him good."

"Mary Komi is getting married. She sent her condolences -- something to the effect that you lost your chance." Solo gave a slight grin at that. "Oh, and I'm getting a new partner next week."

"What?" Solo abruptly sat up and cringed at the pain lancing from his ribs and arm. "Waverly can't!" he sputtered angrily.

"Can't what, suspend you for disobeying direct orders?" The tone was neutral and bland. "Replace you because you don't listen to your superior?"

Napoleon winced in spite of the fact that he knew he was justified in all actions concerning the Karmac affair. Glancing at Illya he finally realized the reasons for the cold shoulder. Disconcerted that Waverly was not the only one angry at him, he sighed. "I didn’t really have a lot of time to explain earlier.”

The face of the Russian was glacial. “I’m listening now.”

“There was a time limit. I had to do what I thought necessary to save you."

"I know."

The tone was rather coolly colorless and Solo thought it best not to say anything until he could gauge his friend's mood. What did Illya have to be upset about? He saved his life! He ended up in the hospital! And managed to bring down the long expected final curtain on their partnership. Good going, Solo. The operation was a success, but the patient died.

***

Once settled on his sofa, grateful to be back home to his apartment, Solo calmly observed the Russian go through the motions of making coffee and rummaging for snacks in the fridge, then the cupboards. When Illya arrived in the living room with mugs of coffee and a plate of cookies, Napoleon started to relax. This was routine. Illya wasn't really mad at him. Give the guy some food and time to cool off and he'll be fine. They could smooth this out. . . .

Then the Russian moved to pace in front of the record player. Without selecting an album. Without eating or drinking. Solo's spirits sank.

"Well, spit it out."

"What is there to say?" Kuryakin asked waspishly. "Thank you for endangering yourself to save me again? For being hunted like an animal, attacked by a wild jaguar, and being baited by a lethal enemy? Thank you for proving Waverly's fears correct -- that we can't work together without fouling up an assignment because we care more for each other than we do for UNCLE?"

The tirade managed to provoke his anger. Already hurting from the injuries, disturbed by Wavlery's actions, Napoleon loosed his wrath on his friend. "I was supposed to just sit around headquarters and let you die in my place?" Solo snapped back sharply. An edge of impatient sarcasm lilted his tone. "Or stand back and watch through the glass of that locked room while you died from poisoning?" he flung out hotly. "I suppose you don't think I should be upset that you wanted to sacrifice yourself -- you pleaded with me to let you die to save my life!" Groaning, cradling his bruised chest with his injured arm, he rested his head on the back of the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. "What did you expect me to do?"

Kuryakin flopped onto the floor by the sofa, anger instantly dissipating to moroseness. "To act in character, I suppose," he sighed glumly. "This is a dilemma of our own making. In preserving our lives we have destroyed the partnership we were striving so hard to safeguard."

"Well, if there was a choice to be made, saving your life was more important that preserving the partnership." Reaching across to pat his friend's arm, Solo struggled for a lighter tone. "This separation won't last. Waverly will change his mind. No one else can be as good as we are."

His bravado expired when he saw that he had not convinced his friend. A shaft of betrayal splintered his confidence, stealing into his heart like a blade. What if Illya didn't want to save the partnership? What if he really was tired of the hairs-breadth escapes and terrible peril? Weary and disheartened, he sighed, unable to think of anything else to say in their defense.

Understanding the impasse, equally unsettled, Kuryakin left without further comment.

***

A few days later Solo entered Kuryakin's UNCLE office and found the blond studying a map unfolded on the desk. They had not spoken since Kuryakin's departure. There had been nothing to say that had not already been debated and dissected over the length of many years and missions. It seemed ironic that there was distance between them at the moment because of their closeness. Solo refused to allow danger to come to his hostage friend so he disobeyed orders and barely escaped with his life. The heroics cost him the very partnership he fought so hard to preserve. Well, better to save the partner than the team. Success on one hand, failure on the other.

Illya did not look up, but the disapproval was clear in his stiff demeanor and curt tone. "What are you doing back so soon?"

He had hoped his surprise return would ease the tension between them, allow a new track for the strained silence since the ordered split. This was not at all what he had expected from saving his partner from Karmak. Alone in his apartment for the last few days he thought a little levity and persistence would help mend the gap imposed by Waverly. Illya's continuing obstinate attitude proved that the problems were deeper than obedience to UNCLE.

"Just coming to see how you're doing." He smirked, battling to maintain his humor. "Office gossip is a terrible thing. I heard Rand is out sick from appendicitis."

Illya grinned briefly, then smoothed out his expression to a vague, bland glance at his friend. He removed his reading glasses. "At least Mr. Waverly won't accuse you of poisoning him."

The epitome of innocence, Solo placed a hand on his chest. "Me? Who just happened to convince medical to put me back on the active duty list? Who just happens to be available for --" he glanced at the map " -- an assignment to Latin America?"

"We are expected in his office in ten minutes.,"

Solo's smugness collapsed. "Waverly knew?"

"That you arranged the medical clearance so you could accompany me? Yes, and he is being suspiciously cooperative." Illya folded the map and gathered some notes.

"What does that mean?"

Kuryakin stopped and stared at his friend. "That this is probably an isolated incident in reconciliation. He needs us for this assignment. We are conveniently available due to your foolish and premature release from medical restrictions." There was a depth of shadow in his eyes that denoted the resistance to put too much into the new orders." The team will not last. He is determined to split us for good."

With a thoughtful tilt of his head, Solo moved to the door. "We shall see," he enigmatically proclaimed, confidence springing from some unknown source deep within his soul.

Ignoring the shades of pessimistic doubt from his dour friend, he really believed they had more going for them than just the convenience of the moment. Their partnership was worth more than just being in the right place at the right time. He couldn't bear to think the association was over and stubbornly forced himself to hope they could convince Waverly to allow them to remain a partnership. Or perhaps his instincts were telling him that despite their flaws, they were the best and Waverly knew it.

Forcing a quirky grin, he brushed up against his friend shoulder to shoulder. "If we do very well south of the border, he might just reevaluate his position and reward us with more missions."

Kuryakin shook his head as they strolled down the corridor to the nearest elevator. "You are deluding yourself."

"I'm optimistic, tovarich." He grinned irrepressibly. "And willing to back up my confidence with a little monetary wager."

"You have no money."

"Ah, it's the first of the month."

"You want me to win this bet and then have you borrow from me the rest of the month?" Illya scowled. "I think I will just hold onto my money."

"You just know I'm right," Solo insisted as they stepped into the elevator. The doors closed and Solo scrutinized his companion. "Glad to see you're over the doom and gloom from the other day."

“Then you are misreading the situation,” the Russian lashed out. “Perhaps I agree with Waverly this time. If we go our separate ways peril to our lives would diminish.”

Solo’s blood drained from his face. “You don’t mean that.”

For a moment Kuryakin stared at him with a sober chill in the blue eyes. “If it would mean you not sacrificing yourself on heroics for me,” he looked away. “Then yes, I mean it.”

Shaking his head, Solo ignored the depression weighing against his heart. Illya was always mad when there was a daring rescue and Solo barely saved them. He felt the same when the situations were reversed. “We need each other, Illya. Okay, be mad. You always are. Just don’t say you want this to be over. Our strength is depending on each other! It’s how we stay alive!”

Staring at him, Illya's normally closed expression lost its cool indifference and he scowled anxiously. "I know.”

Solo breathed out a marginal sigh of relief. “Then we’re okay? Except you’re still mad at me.”

Kuryakin’s lip twitched. “There is no point in sustaining my irritation at you, Napoleon. For one, it fails to have any redeeming effect on you." He frowned at Solo's widening grin. "Secondly, I am a creature of habit. I am accustomed to constantly rescuing you," he sighed with superiority. "And third, I believe Mr. Waverly has acknowledged what we have known all along. That it is better to know we are together causing mayhem than if we are separated and causing trouble for him. Not to mention annoying him persistently. It is easier for him to keep an eye on us."

At the end of the monologue Solo laughed heartily, holding onto his aching ribs. "You are priceless," he shook his head. "In other words, that's Illya-speak for you need me as much as I need you, tovarich." His smug confidence shaded his tone. "Waverly knows that, too." He was feeling a lot better about the whole matter.

The lift stopped and the agents emerged, walking silently astride toward the Section One offices. A few co-workers paused, offering comments about Solo's return. Most ignored them -- Section Two leaders parading as the walking wounded was a common sight in these halls.

"I hope so," Kuryakin countered neutrally, not allowing his friend to see the worry he quickly controlled. He desperately did hope Solo was right. They had done so much in the name of friendship; sacrificed everything to bring the other back from death's door. Didn't they deserve one more chance to preserve what had become so important to them? "I hope so," he sighed.

THE END