Written for today’s short affair prompt at Section VII

Summary: In which, even after only three days of separation, finding his wounded partner is a relief to Illya.

Cross-posted to AO3.

Illya had been searching incessantly since Napoleon had
been reported missing on a solo mission.
It hadn’t looked good—rather than let him demolish a satrap, THRUSH had
decided to destroy it themselves—and Napoleon hadn’t been heard from since the explosion.

Several in the office had presumed that Napoleon’s goose
was cooked; they had even handed over Napoleon’s yellow II badge to Illya,
expecting him to step up and take his place as CEA.  Illya’s angry retort was that he was only
Acting CEA until it was proven beyond doubt that Napoleon hadn’t survived the
explosion—a rare public display of emotion that no one expected from the “Ice
Prince” (except for the one missing, of course).

Illya had wasted no time, trying to piece together what
must have happened in the aftermath of the satrap’s destruction.  Napoleon was no fool—he would have attempted
to make a break for it the moment he’d realized what THRUSH was planning to
do.  And those sorting through the
wreckage had confirmed that they hadn’t found Napoleon, leading Illya to
believe that he must have made his escape into the surrounding swamp—obviously
injured, for he must have been caught in the shockwave of the explosion, given
that his tracker wasn’t working.  And
that would be more than enough to disorient him.

Illya finally found him hours later, unconscious under a
small, hastily-constructed shelter he had put up out of large fronds to
minimize the amount of rain falling on him.
He had multiple injuries from getting caught in the explosion; Illya
checked him for a concussion and didn’t find any signs of one before proceeding
to treat his partner’s wounds with the first aid kit.

The sting of the disinfectant was enough to revive
Napoleon; he cringed and tried to struggle weakly.

“Napoleon,” Illya said, softly.  “Napoleon, it’s me.”

Napoleon paused, as though trying to convince himself that
he wasn’t hearing things; weakly, he managed to look up; even in his condition,
the relief was evident in his eyes as he finally convinced himself it was real.

“Illya…”

“That’s right,” Illya said, continuing to work on
Napoleon’s wounds.  “You’ll feel some
discomfort from the antiseptic I’m using, but after what you’ve been through,
however, you need it.”

“How long was I gone?”

“You don’t know?” Illya asked.

“Been losing track of time,” Napoleon mumbled, wincing as
the treatment stung.  “Seems like I’ve
been camped out here forever.”

“Not even three days,” Illya informed him.  “And yet, people were ready to write you off
as lost in the explosion.”

“You didn’t, though…”

“Of course not,” Illya said.  “You have a thirst for life that cannot be
easily quenched… along with a thirst for certain things in life, as well.”

Napoleon tried to chuckle, but couldn’t; he let out a quiet
hiss of pain as Illya now disinfected a particularly deep wound on his
shoulder.

“Nearly finished,” Illya promised him.

“How bad…?”

“How bad does it look?” Illya finished.  “Do you mean the damage to you, or to your
appearance?”

“…Both.”

“You are as strikingly handsome as ever, and will make a
full recovery,” Illya said.  “Your suit,
on the other hand…”

“…Not again…”

“I expect that is what Mr. Waverly will say when you file
for the reimbursement.  Again.”

Napoleon paused as Illya now set about bandaging his
wounds.  They were both silent while
Illya worked, and, after Illya called in to headquarters and informed them of
their location for an extraction, Napoleon spoke up again.

“You were really worried about me, weren’t you…?”

“Nothing I haven’t experienced before,” Illya said, now
taking a wet cloth and wiping the remaining mud off of Napoleon’s face.

But Napoleon caught the almost undetectable quiver in
Illya’s voice.

“Doesn’t make it any easier, though…” he murmured.

Illya paused for a moment, and then drew his arms around
Napoleon, pulling him into a hug that was both gentle and tight.  Napoleon weakly reached up and placed his
hand over Illya’s arm.

“Hey, at least it was only three days this time?”

“Still three days too many,” Illya insisted.

Napoleon couldn’t disagree.

“Thank you for finding me,” he said, after a while.

“You know I would have never stopped searching,” Illya
vowed.

Napoleon managed a wan smile.

“No more than I could have if it had been you,” he promised
back.

Illya knew without even needing to be told; he continued to
hold his partner close until they were extracted.  And as Napoleon recovered in Medical, Illya
stayed by his side, happy once again to prove Section I wrong—as they would
continue to do so.