Summary: Trapped in a blizzard, the cold has dire consequences for Solo. This prompt was provided by my dear reader, Livin4Jesus. Thank you!

The ominous crack beneath their feet was deafening in the wintery silence.

"Oh no…" Illya whispered, eyes widening.

"Well that can't be good." Solo said, staring down at his feet. The ice on which they currently stood now had a giant crack running down the middle. Spidery fissures crept outward from the main fracture at an alarming speed. They both froze, trying to equalize their weight. Not far away, they could hear the rapidly approaching sound of their pursuers. Another loud crack sounded and the sheet of ice below them shuddered and tilted.

"Right…RUN!" Solo yelled. He and Illya took off toward snow covered shore twenty yards away. The crack chased them as they slipped and stumbled as fast as they could. Suddenly, Illya lost his balance and went down hard. Solo looked back at him and, without a second thought, hauled him up by the hood of his jacket and shoved him forcefully to shore.

"Illya, go!" The big Russian stumbled, barely on his feet. The low friction of the ice carried him all the way to the water's edge. Once assured of his partner's safety, Solo took a microsecond to analyze his own situation. Saving Illya had cost him precious time and ice mere feet behind him had already shattered, giving way to frigid, black water. Solo tried. He really did, but the ground beneath him disintegrated just two yards shy of shore and he was plunged under the glacial surface. Somewhere above him, he thought he heard Illya shout "Cowboy!"

The shock of the cold was immediately painful and it stole his breath. It felt like a million white-hot knives stabbing him at once. He had enough presence of mind to kick upwards and he burst to the surface, coughing and spluttering.

"Cowboy! Over here! Come on!" Illya shouted. He was leaning out over the edge with his hand outstretched. Solo blinked at him, momentarily confused. Illya seemed to notice this. "Napoleon." He said, slowly and clearly. "Swim over to me. I'll pull you up." Solo shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Okay, he thought to himself. Just swim to Illya. You can do that. It's not even that far…

Solo began to paddle over, but his limbs seemed slow to respond and all coordination seemed to have deserted him.

"Just a little farther, Cowboy. You can do this." Illya encouraged. Solo could feel his hair freezing to his scalp. His teeth were chattering so hard that he could actually hear the unnatural porcelain clack. He was tiring fast and Illya was looking further and further away each time he looked up. "Keep going!" Illya shouted, having noticed how Solo's strokes had slowed. Few more feet…almost there…

Then, a hand closed around his arm and he felt himself being dragged onto something solid. Solo was too out of it to care. He was shivering violently now.

"Solo? Can you hear me?" Illya asked, jamming his fingers into the American's throat. He did not like the way his friend's pulse was racing. Solo made a soft, pained noise in response, but otherwise gave no indication that he had heard. Illya took a deep breath and let his training kick in. He quickly tore off Solo's coat, hat, and gloves and tossed them aside. The garments were already starting to freeze stiff. Illya glanced back as he heard the shouts of men behind them. They had to move.

"Solo, we have to go. Can you stand?" He asked tersely, giving his partner a light shake. Solo looked up at him with hazy eyes.

"Y-y-yeah." He stuttered hoarsely. Illya nodded and grabbed him under the arm.

"Alright, on three. One…two…three." He hoisted Solo up slowly. Solo staggered as a wave of dizziness overtook him and Illya held tight. "You doing okay, Cowboy?" Solo was slow to answer.

"'m g-good-d." His tongue felt thick in his mouth.

"Good. Here, put these on." Illya said quickly, taking off his own hat and gloves. Solo blinked at them for a beat then grabbed them shakily. He tried several times to put them, but his fingers wouldn't obey his commands. He dropped one of the gloves in the snow. Illya frowned, concern evident on his face. He bent down and grabbed the glove.

"Let me help you." He said softly, maneuvering Solo's stiff fingers into the wool. He then secured the hat over Solo's head. "Still with me?" he asked. Solo was still staring at the spot where the glove had fallen. Illya snapped his fingers in front of Solo's face. "Hey, Cowboy!"

"Mmm?" Solo said, shaking his head. Illya didn't like the way the man was swaying. He ducked under Napoleon's arm, taking some of his weight.

"Come on, we need to go." Illya went as fast he could while still pulling Solo, but it was still much slower than he would have liked. Solo was shaking so hard that he looked like he was having a seizure. Illya could see how much effort it took just to put on foot in front of the other. The deepening snow only served so complicate matters. At least the storm would hide their tracks. If it doesn't kill us first, Illya thought bitterly.

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They had been walking for close to an hour now and the sounds of their pursuers had long since faded. In all that time, Solo had yet to say a word. Illya was carrying most of his weight now. He knew that if he didn't get Solo warm soon, that he would be dead within a few hours. His eyes cast around desperately for some form of shelter. Through the blizzard, he could make out the silhouette of the mountain. He remembered reading on the flight to Switzerland that these mountains had hundreds of caves. Illya set his jaw and pushed on with renewed energy.

"You just hold on, Cowboy. I'll get us there." He muttered into Solo's neck.

It was slow going, but he eventually reached the rocky base of the mountain. Within twenty minutes, he found exactly what he was looking for. It was small, but a small cave would hold the heat better. Solo was either unconscious or nearly so, forcing Illya to drag his dead weight inside. Knowing that time was short, Illya quickly pulled out his pack and found the instant fire kit. Soon, he had a nice blaze going. He then took out the long sleeve thermal shirt and sweats Waverly had insisted be put in each of their packs. With that laid out, he moved to Solo. The usually vibrant American was stunningly pale and conspicuously still. Not even a shiver wracked his frame. Memories from his first aid training drifted through his mind and Illya remembered how bad it was when that happened. His hands were shaking now and it had nothing to do with the cold.

Quickly, he stripped Solo of his wet and icy clothes and managed to get him into the extra set. He pulled off his own coat of tucked it around Solo as well.

"Cowboy?" he asked tentatively, gently squeezing his partner's hand. He wanted to shake him by shoulders, but he remembered that any sudden, jarring movement could disrupt Solo's already tedious heart rate. As it was, his pulse had slowed significantly already. "Napoleon, can you hear me?" Illya pleaded. Very carefully, he laid down next to Solo, wrapping his arms around him. Share body heat if at all possible, his brain supplied helpfully. "Come on, Solo. Come on. You can do this." He whispered. Solo's breathing had become so slow and shallow that Illya could scarcely hear it over the howl of the storm outside. He lay there with Solo in his arms for half an hour before a soft noise drew his attention.

"H-huh? Peril? 's goin' on?" Solo mumbled, his words badly slurred. Illya scrambled to sit up.

"Cowboy? You back with me?"

"Illya…" Solo whispered. "What?"

"Shhhh, it's alright." Illya soothed. "You fell through the ice, remember? You're in hypothermic shock and we need to get you warm again."

"Oh…but…already warm." Solo mumbled dazedly. Illya frowned. He dug through his backpack until he found a small cup. He packed it full of snow, then placed it over the fire. If he could at least get some warm fluids into Solo, then maybe he could turn this around.

"No, no you're not."

"S'actually…kinda hot…" Solo murmured, stirring agitatedly. Illya didn't understand what was happening until Solo tried to pull his shirt off.

"Whoa whoa whoa. Hey, leave that on. You need that." Illya said, pulling the shirt back down and tucking the coat around him once more. He knew that sometimes in the later stages of hypothermia, victims would remove their clothing because they actually felt warm.

"But..." Solo protested weakly.

"Please, Napoleon. You're not well and, quite honestly, you're scaring me. Just…lie still, please?" Solo blinked at him.

"Okay." Illya breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Good." He checked on the water in the cup and pulled it away from the fire. "Okay, Cowboy. I need you to drink this." Illya instructed. He gently raised Solo's head up so that he could sip the water. Illya had to hold the cup for him. Solo's fingers were too clumsy and weak. It took some time, but eventually he finished the mug. By that time, Illya was noticing at least a little improvement. It was more that his condition didn't deteriorate any further, but Illya would take what he could get. He just hoped that the long range trackers he had on him were still transmitting. Their radio had been lost somewhere at the bottom of that frozen lake. Illya shivered. Despite the fire, it was still very cold in the cave and he had given up his coat. He glanced back at Solo to see that the man was watching him.

"Illya?" Solo asked, his voice weak and raspy. "What…what happened to me?" Solo didn't seem to remember having already been told that, but Illya explained once more.

"You fell through some ice and you became hypothermic. You're going to be alright, but you need to lie still, okay?"

Solo asked twelve more times before help arrived. In the last few hours before Gaby and one of U.N.C.L.E.'s rescue teams came for them, Solo became progressively more confused. He was extremely weak and it was all Illya could do to keep him conscious. The team found him holding Solo's frigid body close to his own, desperately trying to share some of his own warmth.

After that, things became rather fuzzy for Illya. He was exhausted and freezing. Once inside the helicopter, Gaby bundled him into a thick blanket as the medics began working on Solo. The last thing Illya remembered seeing before slipping into unconsciousness was Napoleon's slack, pale face, his lip tinged a faint blue.

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Napoleon Solo's heart stopped. At a core temperature of ninety-three degrees Fahrenheit, he went into cardiac arrest shortly after the he was loaded onto the chopper. For two minutes, the man's heart did not beat. Then…

"Wait…I've got a pulse!" Gaby released the breath she didn't know she had been holding. She was glad that Illya had not been awake for that. They landed at the small hospital near the ski resort their mission had taken them too. Illya had revived shortly before their arrival and he brushed off any medical treatment. Solo was quickly rushed inside. After several hours of warm saline IVs, heated blankets, and warmed oxygen, Solo was finally declared out of immediate danger. The doctors fretted over his heart, especially given the past trauma it had endured under Uncle Rudi, but it seemed to be holding up well enough.

"Only time will tell." They told an impatient and terrified Illya and Gaby.

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"Mmmmgggmmff. What the…?" Solo mumbled groggily as consciousness returned. "Where am I?"

"Saint Joseph's hospital in Brig." Said a voice, heavily accented with Russian.

"Peril? Why am I…what…why am I so cold?" Solo asked, totally confused as to why he was in a hospital and why said hospital seemed to keep its rooms below freezing. Illya gave him a small, sad smile.

"The doctors said it would take while for you to feel properly warm again. Your body is still adjusting."

"Adjusting from what exactly?"

"Severe hypothermic shock. Do you remember the ski resort and stealing Markov's briefcase?" Solo thought for a moment, then nodded, so Illya continued. "We were chased into the woods. While crossing the lake, the ice broke and you fell through. Remember that?" Vague, fuzzy images came back, but the memories seemed to stop there.

"Sort of. I guess you got me out then?" Illya chuffed out a harsh laugh.

"Barely, Cowboy. I got us holed up in a cave until help came, but you almost didn't last the night."

"Well, it looks like I'm lucky to be alive." Solo rasped weakly. God, why did he feel so tired? "I suppose I have you to thank for that?"

"Hardly." Illya replied bitterly.

"Hardly?"

"The only reason you fell in was because you stopped to help me!" Illya shouted and now, Solo could see the guilt burning in his eyes.

"Hey. I'm okay, Peril. Gimme a week and I'll be back to proving that I am the better the spy." He said with a roguish wink. The effect was slightly diminished by the fact that Solo didn't have the energy for his usual bravado, but it calmed Illya nonetheless.

"It seems the cold water must have messed with your head, Cowboy. I am clearly the better spy." Illya replied fondly. Solo smiled back.

"And Illya?" he said, meeting his partner's eyes. "I'd do it all over again."

And there you have it! I hope you've enjoyed! And to my wonderful reader who suggested this prompt, I do hope everything was to your liking!