section7mfu | Two Sides To Go

Part 1
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The meal was consumed with gusto, and the iced tea filled a seemingly endless thirst that only that fine brew could satisfy. As Napoleon and Illya made their exit from the little restaurant and headed back to the hotel room, each man felt as though his steps were staggering slightly, a buzz of some sort beginning to cloud details and memory.

Illya had the key to the room still and, fumbling in his pocket cursed at his clumsy fingers.

"Hurry up Illya, I don't think I can stand up much longer. What's wrong? Do you feel the way I do?" Illya cursed again before finally pulling out the room key.

"How do I know how you feel? I am…" He jammed the key into the door and wrestled it open, then ran for the bathroom as though being chased by all of THRUSH.

Napoleon collapsed onto the bed, out for the count before his head hit the pillow. Illya emerged from the bathroom, pale and still slightly sick. Looking at his partner the suspicion was confirmed about the meal, or some part of it.

"Napoleon! Napoleon, wake up!" He slapped the groggy American and then, feeling more like himself for having rid his body of the offending substances, he found an ampule of smelling salts and broke it open beneath the other man's nose.

Napoleon came to with a grunt and an immediate pain in his temples. He vaguely remembered getting upstairs, but how he landed on the bed was a mystery.

"What happened?" Illya discarded the vial and sat beside his friend.

"You asked me that once already before you passed out. We were doped, probably the iced tea. As I recall I couldn't get enough of it, but it made me sick instead of sleepy. Fortunately I have rid my system of it, although that in itself was very unpleasant."

Napoleon held up his hand, in essence stopping what might come next.

"Please, no details. I'm not feeling too good myself.' He got up and tried to stretch, shaking his head before deciding that was a mistake.

"What do you think it was? And why didn't it affect you the same as it did me?"

Illya had to smile at his partner, the uncharacteristic lapse in control was apparently a problem for the CEA of UNCLE Northwest.

"My, you certainly have a lot of questions Napoleon." Illya's smile was mixed with concern; Solo didn't look well, but then in all probability, neither did he.

"I don't know, but the more pressing question is: Who?" Napoleon was looking past Illya, at a strange effect in the painting above the dingy bureau. He tried to act nonchalantly as he walked towards it, feigning a search for something, allowing him to examine it more closely.

Not one to miss a clue, Illya let it play out, continuing to talk while walking back to the bathroom. If someone was watching, they wouldn't see him there.

"Do you suppose THRUSH knows we're here? I haven't seen anyone suspicious looking, so it might just have been food poisoning. Or perhaps…"

Napoleon saw what he needed to figure out at least part of the puzzle. He said something about needing the bathroom and then pulled Illya in after him as he closed the door behind them.

"What? Did you see something?" Illya was now aware that someone was probably watching them. Still, the question was who, if not THRUSH?

Napoleon had tried to not look directly into the hole, but he was certain he had seen a reflection, as though something was behind it.

"Someone is watching us…' Illya nodded his head, he had surmised that.

"They must be next door. Should we pay them a visit?"

Illya held out his hand as though to say 'after you', then followed Napoleon out and through the main door into the hallway. The room next to theirs had a Do Not Disturb sign on the doorknob.

"Handy, don't you think? Let's see who's spying on the spies."

With a single movement the two kicked in the door, startling the two old women who were seated facing the wall as they waited for their entertainment to resume. To say they were surprised is inadequate to describe their response, and perhaps delighted is an event more apt word for it.

"Oh Irma, here they are. Oh my, this is exciting!" Leticia Mortimer was giddy with excitement, thrilled to be face to face with the two men she had described as pretty.

Napoleon looked at his partner, surprise and amusement now filling in the blanks on the mystery.

"Good evening ladies. I hate to interrupt the show… ahem… but we really prefer that our room not be included in your entertainment."

The women looked at each other and tried to look sorry, but their guilt was written on their faces. They had been entertained for decades by their guests, albeit without their permission. Oh, what was a lady to do when life had not provided a proper mate for such things?

"We are truly sorry… uh, gentlemen. Can you forgive two silly old ladies?"

Illya shook his head in that small little gesture he intended as absolutely No. Napoleon had to smile, the two sisters, as he had surmised, seemed harmless enough. Although, Illya had become violently ill, so whatever they were using might do worse to someone even more sensitive to the ingredients.

"You know, my friend here became very ill… what if he had died. Do you think you could live with that?"

A look of shock and then sadness overcame both of the powdered and rouged faces.

"Oh my, we never meant to hurt anyone. I don't think anyone else has ever gotten sick before.' They turned as one towards the blond.

"Young man, we are very sorry. I suppose you want us to stop doing this … altogether." Napoleon nodded his head, approaching each woman and kissing her on the cheek. That seemed to make up for whatever loss they felt in abandoning their voyeurism. Perhaps the direct approach really was best.

"All right then, I'm going to plug up this hole and you're going to return to your rooms. I don't expect to see anyone peering through this peephole again; are we agreed?"

Two heads nodded in unison. They looked at Illya again, certain that beneath the somber exterior lay a perfectly sweet and … oh well, never mind. They were reformed. Completely.

Stay tuned for more...