Napoleon Solo moved silently along the darkened alleyway stalking his quarry. He was emotionally drained after the failure of his last assignment, and tried not to think about his isolation. Waverly had already reprimanded him of course, but that was nothing compared to the self-incrimination he was giving himself. Also his thoughts frequently dwelled on Illya. He'd been assigned a different case and Napoleon was worried about him. True Illya was a competent agent, but he also seemed to get in far more trouble than Napoleon did.

Napoleon had the feeling he was being watched. But so far he hadn't seen anyone. Two Thrush goons jumped out in front of him. In his peripheral vision he saw someone behind him. He attacked one of the thugs, a knife was thrown and one of the thugs fell. He swiped someone behind him into a wall and then went for the last thug knocking him out.

Napoleon started fishing in his pocket for his communicator and at the same time he glanced behind him at the other man he'd hit. There was something awfully familiar about him. He was slight of build and was dressed in tramps clothing. Napoleon knelt down to look at him. He tugged at the dark hair and was sickened when it came off in his hand revealing a mop of blonde hair. He lifted the man's head from where it had hit the wall and saw blood treacling down. There was no doubt that it was Illya. He'd injured his friend.

He patted one of the cheeks until the blue eyes flickered open.

"Are you alright?"

"Did you see who hit me?"

Napoleon indicated the two Thrush goons unwilling to volunteer the information that it was he who'd hit his friend. Illya struggled to his feet and started to move away.

"Illya where are you going?" Illya turned at the mention of his name.

"How do you know that?"

"Know what?"

"That my name is Illya." The blue eyes gazed at him with no signs of recognition.