Prompt: Surrender

Summary: Part 2 of 2.  When you’ve got the perfect partner, the impossible becomes possible.

Cross-posted to AO3

Illya was certainly willing to trust whatever plan Napoleon
had to get them out of their predicament—ten THRUSHies meant that their enemies
were, no doubt, expecting them to tire and surrender.  And while going quietly might end up working
in their favor temporarily, it was a last resort.

“What is your plan?” Illya whispered.

“That we fall back on the element of surprise,” Napoleon
said.  “Right now, with everyone being
too scared to move, they are expecting us to stand quietly like this until we
give up.”

“But, we won’t.”

“We won’t,” Napoleon agreed.  “If we can find a way to distract them for
just a moment, we can get the drop on them and tranquilize them.  And, knowing you, you probably placed some of
your special fireworks before we ended up surrounded, didn’t you?”

“Mmh, you know me well…”

Napoleon smirked.

“I knew I could count on you.”

“There’s just one small hiccup,” Illya said.  “The charges aren’t timed; they need to be
activated by a detonator—and the activation mechanism is hidden in my
watch.  If I move my right hand to my
watch, the movement will likely cause them to react.”

“My right hand is right near your left,” Napoleon
said.  “Just tell me what to do.”

Their arms had been at their sides, and Napoleon now
slightly moved his right hand to touch Illya’s watch.”

“Just turn the dial a quarter-turn.”

Napoleon did so, and, a few yards away, an explosion went
off.  As they’d hoped, all ten THRUSHies
turned to face the direction of the explosion.

They grabbed their Specials and, still back-to-back,
flawlessly turned around in sync together, each tranquilizing 5 THRUSHies in
rapid succession, with each pair of shots occurring almost simultaneously.

“Well, that went well,” Napoleon grinned.

“That, it did,” Illya said, satisfied.  He wouldn’t get emotional now, but he was
very glad that Napoleon had been here, as he knew he wouldn’t have pulled off
this maneuver with anyone else.

“Well, let’s gather these THRUSHies up into the nearest
U.N.C.L.E. cage,” Napoleon said.  “I’m
sure you’re hungry after that standoff.”

“Very,” Illya agreed, smiling now.

They knew each other well—and that was what made them such
great partners.

Prompt: Outnumbered

Summary: Part 1 of 2.  It’s 2 against 10, and no one dares to make the first move…

Cross-posted to AO3

Nobody was making a move just yet; the THRUSHies weren’t
sure that the duo had any tricks up their sleeves, and Napoleon and Illya
didn’t want to make any sudden moves that might set the THRUSHies off.

“How many do you see on your side?” Napoleon whispered, out
of the corner of his mouth.

“Five of them,” Illya whispered back.

“Same here…”

Illya let out a quiet sigh.

“What now?  We are in
a standoff.  Whoever makes a move first
will be instigating something dire indeed.”

“Let’s hope they understand that point,” Napoleon murmured.

“I would try to activate my distress signal, but that could
set them off,” Illya muttered, annoyed.

“It’s guaranteed; they’d want to take us in or take us out
before backup got here…”

“Well, we cannot stand here forever!”

“I know that, and you know that,” Napoleon replied.  “And I’m pretty sure they know it, too.”

“We are outnumbered,” Illya observed.  “And grossly so.  And, along with that, we are obviously
outgunned.”

“Yeah, they have more guns and ammo,” Napoleon agreed.  “But there’s one thing we have that they don’t.”

“What’s that?”

“Each other—and a plan,” Napoleon added.  “Illya, we’re going to get out of this—together.”

Prompt: Gagged

Summary: At what point does danger become a mere annoyance?  Takes place during “The Pieces of Fate Affair.”

Cross-posted to AO3

Illya had to admit, after getting captured so many times,
getting bound and gagged was starting to get more annoying than anything
else.  Judging by the look on Napoleon’s
face, he was more annoyed and upset about his suit getting covered with dust;
at least, he didn’t wince until he took a look at the dust on his sleeve.

Illya rolled his eyes in spite of himself as Napoleon now
managed to manipulate the gag off of his mouth.
After drawing in a greedy breath of air, he now moved over to Illya,
using his bound hands to work on Illya’s bonds, muttering under his breath
about the laundry bill they would incur.

He showed Illya how to manipulate the gag off; he, too,
began to remark wryly about their situation as Napoleon fretted about more coal
coming down on top of them—at least until Illya pointed out that the building
used oil as heat, as evidenced by the audible sounds of the oil furnace.

“…I am slightly embarrassed that I didn’t notice that,”
Napoleon said, after a moment.  “Huh…”

Illya cleared his throat, holding up his bound hands,
pulling Napoleon from his thoughts once again.

Napoleon managed to untie the bonds—a favor which Illya
quickly returned, and the two of them got to their feet.  Napoleon did a proper surveillance of his
suit, and groaned in dismay as how dirty it was now.

“Look on the bright side, Napoleon,” Illya said.  “At least it is just the laundry, and not a
full destruction of your suit, as what usually tends to happen when we get
captured by THRUSH.”

Napoleon paused for a moment, considering this, and then
gave a “You’ve got a point there,” nod.

“How’s the rest of me?” he wondered, touching his face to
see if he could feel any dirt there.

“Personally, I think the ‘dusty hero’ look augments your
features,” Illya intoned.  “But if your
vanity is that much of a concern, I suppose we could hit the Turkish bath.  Again.”

“…Let’s go with that, then.”

Illya shook his head in amusement, wondering at exactly
what point in their careers a situation like this became more of an annoyance
than an actual danger.

Prompt: Grief

Summary: Their latest mission strikes, quite literally, very close to home for Illya.

Cross-posted to AO3

Napoleon knew there was trouble when, upon arriving at the
breakfast table, he saw the morning paper tossed aside, as if having been done
in anger.  Further proof that something
was wrong was the fact that Illya was ignoring the plate of food in front of him,
instead glaring out the window of their apartment.  The third sign was their cat, Baba Yaga,
looking up at him in concern, meowing repeatedly, yet not getting a response
from him, which she would usually get instantly.

“Illya?” Napoleon asked, gently.  “What’s wrong?”

“It is… a very complex situation, Napoleon.  …And I fear you will think less of me once
you know the full truth.”

“Well, I know that’s not possible,” Napoleon insisted.

“Don’t jump to conclusions before you know the full story,”
Illya said, ruefully.  He picked up part
of the newspaper and handed it to Napoleon.

“‘International coalition to come together to apprehend a
wanted war criminal on the run since the end of the Second World War,’”
Napoleon read.  He frowned at the picture
of the man in the paper—clearly unrepentant for the cruel acts he had
performed.  “‘Efforts to apprehend the
man will be spearheaded by U.N.C.L.E., aided by a wartime resistance group of
former prisoners of war known as the Unsung Heroes.  Head of U.N.C.L.E. New York, Alexander
Waverly, has promised that his top men will be assigned to the mission.’  Oh, so that’s it.  …Well, I don’t see what’s so wrong with
that—we’ve done this sort of thing before, bringing in people wanted for war
crimes.  Or are you concerned about what
these Unsung Heroes will think about you being a Russian?”

“No,” Illya said, his voice calm, despite the fact that he
was shaking.  “Take a closer look at the
man’s biography.”

Napoleon did so, reading the man’s military history, and
pausing as he noticed one particular milestone written in the description—

“…Battle of Kiev…” Napoleon realized.  “…Illya…”

“I recognized his face immediately,” Illya said, passing a
hand over his eyes.  “How could I
not…?  I saw him as I was fleeing from my
home, staring cold and unfeelingly at the homes where he knew innocent civilian
were in.  I still remember how he barked
the orders to blast the houses…”  He
trembled.  “…My house was among them…”

“Oh, Illya…”

“He was the one!” Illya suddenly snapped.  “He was the one who took everything from me…!  He
destroyed my home and killed my family…!”

“We are going to bring him to justice, Illya,” Napoleon
promised.  “Waverly is going to assign us
to this—the writing’s on the wall already…”

He trailed off at the look on Illya’s face.

“I don’t want mere ‘justice,’ Napoleon,” Illya said.  “I want vengeance.  And yet, I know that is not what U.N.C.L.E.
stands for, and it is not what you would stand for, for you are a paragon of
mercy.  …And so, I am ashamed…”

Napoleon exhaled and drew Illya to a tight embrace.

“Don’t be ashamed,” he said, softly.  “I’ve… done things I haven’t been proud of,
too, you know.”

Illya blinked.

“But your family is intact.”

“I didn’t mean them,” Napoleon said.  “Do you remember when I infiltrated Brother
Love’s society?”

“Not much of it,” Illya said.  “He threw a grenade at the car I was driving;
I was unconscious for most of it.”

“…That’s just it; I didn’t know you were just
unconscious.  I thought…”

Illya blinked.

“Do you mean to tell me that Brother Love’s death was…?”

“An act of vengeance?
Deep down, it was,” Napoleon admitted.
“Sure, I said in the mission report that he had to be stopped at all
costs, and sure, the innocent agreed that there was no other option, but…  I know I probably could have looked for a way
to spare him, whether or not I would have eventually succeeded, but… I refused
to even search for that way.”  He
sighed.  “Grief can push you to do things
that you would never consider.  And
that’s why I fully understand the conflicting emotions you’re feeling.”  He glanced back at the newspaper.  “One way or another, we will find this
man.  As for his fate…  I’m going to leave that up to you.”  He gave Illya’s shoulder a squeeze.  “And just know that, no matter what, I’ll
always be on your side.”

Illya exhaled, filled with gratitude at having such an
understanding partner.

“Thank you,” he said, softly.

He didn’t know what his heart would end up deciding once
they caught up to their quarry—but the knowledge that Napoleon would be with
him through it all was already a crushing weight being lifted from his
shoulders.

Prompt: Fever

Summary: Illya looks after a stricken Napoleon as they wait for backup to extract them.

Cross-posted to AO3

Illya could only wish that they weren’t in an isolated
forest; Napoleon needed medical attention—proper medical attention, and not
just what limited work Illya could do with some wild-growing herbs.

During their escape from a THRUSH satrap, Napoleon had been
struck by a THRUSH poison dart.  It had
taken a while for it to take effect, but once it had, he had collapsed as his
weakened body now tried to fight back.
He was burning up with a high fever as his system attempted to purge the
toxins from him.

Illya had done what he could with what he had—which wasn’t
much.  He had concocted a green herbal
soup and had fed it to Napoleon, and then he had spent several hours trying to
get back in touch with U.N.C.L.E.; he had finally succeeded and managed to
summon help, but given their location, far from civilization, it was going to
take a lot more time before their extraction team reached them.

“They will be here,” he said, gently wiping Napoleon’s
forehead with a cold cloth.  “I don’t
know when, but they will find us eventually.
But, until then, you have to hold on.
Do you hear me?”

Napoleon’s face slightly turned in his direction; Illya
took that as a hopeful sign.

“Do you remember when Mills went renegade and poisoned me?”
Illya went on.  “After I recovered, we
had another case where another one of our agents had been poisoned with the
same toxin—only he had not survived.  We
both concluded that it was because he had no one trying to encourage his
recovery that he was not able to make it.
Well, Napoleon… I am here.  And I
will not stop fighting to make sure you survive.  So you had better keep on fighting to do so,
as well.”

Napoleon’s eyes briefly opened, looking up at his partner
for a moment.  He gave a slight nod and
rested his eyes again, but slightly moved his hand to grab Illya’s free one.

Satisfied, Illya kept tending to him and talking to him
until their backup finally arrived to extract them.  Soon, Napoleon was in Medical, having been
administered the antidote to the poison, and was recovering, his fever down at
last.

And Illya was still by his side, ready to help him fight
again if need be.

It was just one of the things that made their partnership
work so well.

Prompt: Thrown Against Something

Summary: Part 2 of 2.  Illya gets a chance at some trickery and subterfuge to avenge Napoleon.

Cross-posted to AO3

Sometimes, Illya’s own deviousness surprised even him.  Technician George Dennell owned him a
favor—and Illya was ready to cash it in, asking him to get Waverly down to the
lab and keep him occupied before the meeting with the applicant for the new
Berlin head could go underway.

George was true to his word; the moment Waverly had left
his office, thinking it would only take five minutes to see what important
developments George had asked him to take a look at, Illya took his place,
explaining to Lisa that he would explain to the applicant that Waverly would be
only slightly delayed.

He sat at the circular table; Baba Yaga the office cat
wandered into the room and leaped onto his lap, sensing something afoot.  Illya gently gave the cat a few skritches
behind the ears, causing her to purr loudly—at least until the door opened and
the job applicant walked in.  her purring
ceased almost immediately as he walked in, and her ears flattened with intense
dislike for the man.

“I was supposed to meet Mr. Waverly here,” the man
said.  “We were to have an interview to
decide my taking over as section head of Berlin.”

“Mr. Waverly has been called away on an important
emergency,” Illya said, calmly, as Baba Yaga’s tail twitched.  “I will be handling this interview in his
stead.”

“I see…” the man said.
He frowned.  “Do I know you?”

“Perhaps.  Perhaps not,”
Illya said, without any emotion.  “Shall
we begin?”

“Er, yes…” the man said.
“You’ve already seen my CV, I presume.”

“Yes, I have,” Illya said.
“A move impressive amount of experience, I must agree.  However…  There was one thing that left me rather
concerned.”

“What’s that?”

“You were in very close association with one Gerald Strothers
for a great many years,” Illya pointed out.

“Well, yes, we were assigned as partners and worked very
closely together as a result,” the man admitted.

“Hmm,” Illya said, pretending to rub his chin in thoughtfulness.  “Then my concerns are not unfounded.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand…”

“Gerald Strothers was recently dishonorably removed from
his position—using unauthorized torture methods against an innocent U.N.C.L.E.
agent and failing to notice that Beldon was a traitor in his zeal to prove this
innocent man as guilty.”

“No one suspected Beldon!” the man countered.  “And as for Strothers, I believe that he wasn’t
wrong about that American!  And even if
he was wrong, why must I suffer for something that I did not do?”

“So you, an innocent man, does not want to be held accountable
for misdeeds that you were not responsible for,” Illya said.  “And yet, you have no qualms about seeing an
innocent suffer for something he was not responsible for?”

“I believe him to be guilty,” the man insisted.  “And given the opportunity, I will prove it!”

Wordlessly, Illya played back the footage from the autopsy
security cameras.

“We had these installed after it became a hazing ritual
among the new probationary agents to sneak into the autopsy room and take
Polaroids of a corpse.  It also serves as
a nice method of capturing threats given to our personnel.”

The threat to Napoleon played back in full picture and
sound.  The man sat flabbergasted for a
moment before scowling at Illya.

“Give me that tape!” he hissed.

“I think not,” he said.
“This interview is over—you will not get the position.”

The next thing Illya knew, the man had seized him and had
hurled him against the wall.  Baba Yaga
screeched, attacking the man with claws and teeth.  The man ignored her, going for Illya again.

Waverly soon returned, followed by Napoleon, who had been
alerted by Lisa to the noise.  Waverly
stared, stunned, while Napoleon leaped into action, pulling the man off of
Illya, who rubbed his neck where he had been seized.

“You can threaten me all you want,” Napoleon hissed.  “But you will not lay a hand on my partner.”

The man glared at them, and then turned to Waverly.

“You, see, Sir?  They
are in this together to discredit me!”

“I think it was very clear that you were the one who
attacked Mr. Kuryakin; he made no effort to defend himself—no doubt because you
would accuse him of instigating it.”

Baba Yaga hissed loudly at the man, her back arched
angrily.

“A temperament and immense moral blindness such as yours is
not one we like to encourage at U.N.C.L.E.,” Waverly continued.  “You will be discharged from your position
post haste.”

“You can join your friend and former partner Strothers in a
search for a new job,” Illya said, coldly.

“…So that’s why you had it in for me,” Napoleon said, eyes
arching in realization.  “You wanted to
get me out to avenge Strothers.”

The man merely cursed at Napoleon as other agents came in
to apprehend him.

“Well, Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin, I’m sorry you had to go through
that,” Waverly said.  “But I thank the
both of you for using such a clever way of bringing this to my attention.  Well done.”

“I don’t deserve any praise,” Napoleon said.  “This was all Illya’s doing.  …How did you know?”

“The room where he made his threat to you was the autopsy
room,” Illya said.  “Neither of you
noticed that I was in there.  So I saw to
it that I would give him a swift and humiliating exit.”

Napoleon smiled.

“Thanks, Tovarisch.  I
owe you one.”

“Believe me, Napoleon…  The pleasure was mine.”

Prompt: Threats

Summary: Part 1 of 2.  Though the Summit Five Affair is behind them, Strothers’s former partner, aiming to replace Beldon, is determined to make Napoleon pay for discrediting Strothers.

Cross-posted to AO3

Napoleon was charismatic and charming—being able to get
people to like him was second nature to him.
While people would be wary of Illya, who presented himself deliberately
as cold and aloof, Napoleon never faced any of that.

But the Summit Five Affair had changed things—changed how
people looked at Napoleon.  Accused of
being a traitor—and tortured until he confessed, the fair-weathered crowd had
begun to see Napoleon in a different light.
Even when the true traitor had been eliminated and Napoleon’s name
cleared, it only slightly reduced the whispers and pointing when he and Illya
had returned to New York.

That was the extent of most of it, however; Napoleon didn’t
pay much attention to that, anyway, just like how Illya had been ignoring his
detractors all this time, as well.  And,
overall, it didn’t seem to bother him; he had Illya’s support through the whole
thing, and that was all that mattered.

But old wounds were reopened, however, several weeks later,
when a visitor from U.N.C.L.E. Berlin had arrived for a meeting with Waverly,
as he had applied to take over Harry Beldon’s position as the head of the
Berlin branch, and had to meet with the other four U.N.C.L.E. heads
individually for an interview, who would then discuss on whether or not he
would be accepted as the fifth member of the Summit Five.  He had passed his other three interviews, and
only needed to complete the one with Waverly.

What no one had realized at the time was that the man had
been Strothers’s partner, and subsequently his very close friend—he had been
out of town during the entire fiasco with Strothers and Beldon, and had only
come back for the figurative (and literal, in the case of Beldon)
post-mortem—that his partner had been unceremoniously sacked after allegedly
torturing an apparently innocent agent from the American branch.

He didn’t buy this—as far as he was concerned, Strothers
had been innocent, and the smug American agent had to have been guilty after
all, but succeeded in worming his way out of things.  He got the name he had been searching
for—Napoleon Solo—and kept this information to himself as he headed to New York
for his final interview.

Strothers’s former partner was more than a bit confident
about getting accepted as Beldon’s replacement, and so, on his way to meet with
Waverly, found Napoleon in the hall and dragged him to the nearest dimly-lit
room.

“Just listen to me now, Solo,” he hissed.  “I don’t care if you were found innocent or
not; when I become head of U.N.C.L.E. Berlin, I will see to it that you are ousted
from your position with as much pain and humiliation as I can see you get!”

He left immediately, and Napoleon stood in stunned
confusion—so stunned, that he was completely unaware that the dimly-lit room
that the unpleasant fellow had dragged him to was none other than the
U.N.C.L.E. autopsy room, and that Illya had been putting things away in a
darkened corner of the room—and had heard and seen the entire thing.

As Napoleon left the room, still looking stunned, it was
clear to Illya that Napoleon would not be likely to inform Waverly.

He would take it upon himself, for no one—but no
one–threatened Napoleon Solo in his presence and got away with it.

Prompt: Panic Attack

Summary: [Early days] In which Napoleon learns the hard way that falling off of a waterfall has repercussions, even if you think you’ve recovered.

Cross-posted to AO3

As much as Napoleon wanted to admit that falling off
Niagara Falls was something that he had easily moved on from, it simply wasn’t
the case.  It had been embarrassing
enough when, just a couple of months later, he had fainted at the sight of
Angel Falls in Venezuela.  And it had
been frustrating as well to know that this was a weakness now.  He could only hope that THRUSH would never
find out about it.

Illya was calm and understanding through all of it,
reassuring him that it was to be expected that he have this aversion towards
waterfalls after what he had been through.
He thought nothing less of him.

However, the slow road to recovery from this ordeal soon
had to be abandoned as THRUSH gave chase while they were running through the
jungle.

“There is a cave behind these particular falls—we can use
it to hide from THRUSH,” Illya said.
“The tunnel goes deep enough that we can escape through the side of the
mountain.  We can outdistance them if we
hurry!”

And Napoleon had stopped as they approached, his breathing
tight and sweat pouring down his face as he stared at the cascade of water.

“Napoleon…” Illya said, gently but firmly.  “I would not insist upon it if we had no
other choice.  THRUSH grunts are coming
at us from all sides—there is no other way of escape but through the water.”

“…Go without me,” Napoleon said, after a moment.

“…What…?”

“I can’t ask you to put yourself in danger because of my
cowardice,” Napoleon said.  “You go on
ahead through the falls; I’ll try to hide out here.”

Illya’s expression softened—but only slightly, given the
dire circumstances.

“I have known you for over a year now, Napoleon.  Trust me when I say that you are not a
coward.  You do have a phobia, brought
about by your trauma—and it is a fear you must face, for THRUSH will not be
merciful after you dispatched of their leader last year.  And I will not abandon you to their
wrath.  Either we go through the water
together, or we both take our chances out here together.”

“I can’t let you do that!”

“And I cannot let you face THRUSH alone,” Illya
responded.  “I will go with your
decision, whatever it may be—but we will face it together.  It is how we defeated the Baron of THRUSH
last year, after all—and why our partnership worked out so well, in spite of
our being so different.”

Napoleon considered this and nodded; he looked back at the
falls, trying to unlock the knot forming in his chest.  And gunshot rang out from the opposite
direction, and then another—THRUSH was coming.

Napoleon stared at the water once more, looked back to
Illya, and gave a shaky—but determined—nod.

“We’ll take the falls.”

Illya nodded back in approval; he seized Napoleon’s hand,
and the two of them jumped through the veil of water and into the cave.

Napoleon exhaled the breath he’d been holding,
relieved.  He looked back at Illya with a
smile.

“Well done, Napoleon,” Illya said.  “But we cannot stay; we need to keep going
down these tunnels.”

Napoleon nodded and led the way, the two of them heading onward
together.

Prompt: Flashback

Summary: A THRUSH onslaught brings back memories of Illya’s war-torn childhood that he’d rather forget.

Cross-posted to AO3

Illya gripped Napoleon’s arm, cringing as the sounds of
explosions continued to echo overhead.
THRUSH had caught up with them, and promptly attacked with nothing less
than rocket launchers.  The nearest
“safehouse” wasn’t very safe after THRUSH opened fire with those, and the duo
were now seeking shelter in the cellar as the place began to crumble around
them.

“Illya?” Napoleon asked, realizing that his partner’s
usually calm resolve had given way to trembling.  Illya usually didn’t lose his cool like this,
even in dire situations—they’d been through far worse, after all.  Something about this situation was affecting
him very deeply, and Napoleon could only hope that it wouldn’t be too much.

He drew an arm around Illya, and Illya’s grip tightened.

“What is it?” Napoleon asked, as there finally appeared to
be a break in the THRUSH onslaught.

“…I was just remembering the night my home in Kiev had been
attacked, when I was a boy,” Illya said.
“It began like this, incessant attacks on houses, with no regard for
civilians who might be inside.  There was
a gap like this, too—a gap in the fire…
That was when my mother told me to run, and I did.”

Napoleon’s heart gave a twist.

“I hid where I could, also in houses that eventually came
down.  I usually hid with other
children—war children, as we would later be known.”  He sighed.
“We didn’t dare to seek help from adults; our families were gone, and
we’d heard about people disappearing, and we didn’t know which ones were behind
it, or who they were looking for.”

“I’m sorry,” Napoleon said, quietly.

Illya gave a shuddering nod.

“It was absolutely terrifying when I was a child,” he
said.  “But I don’t know what’s worse—the
terror I felt then, or growing up and finding out the truth about the missing
people—that they were massacred because of who they were, no other reason than
that…”

He trailed off, cringing as the THRUSH rockets resumed
flying, but then he scowled.  There were
THRUSHies coming closer, as though waiting to nab them the moment they
succeeded in flushing the U.N.C.L.E. agents out.

“And that is why we cannot let them win—for they will do
the same.  Napoleon, do you have the rest
of that wine we had at lunch?”

Napoleon’s eyes widened.

“…Yes,” he said, grabbing the bottle.  He soaked a handkerchief with some of it and
slipped the handkerchief in as a fuse.

Illya waited for the THRUSHies to approach closer before
igniting the handkerchief and hurling it at their pursuers.  The THRUSHies fled upon seeing that they were
being attacked by a makeshift weapon; it wasn’t until there was complete and
utter silence for an extended period of time that the two partners emerged from
the trapdoor, relived at having made it.

“They’ll be back with reinforcements,” Napoleon said.  “I’d like to be out of here when they do.”

“Me too,” Illya said, and, once again suppressing the ghosts
of his past, he ran alongside his partner, who still had a hand on his wrist as
they ran, silently reassuring him that they would get through this together.