Hello dears! So sorry for the long gap between updates; school/work got a bit crazy and I wasn't able to write for a while! The movie ending has been re-written a little for this final scene so hopefully it's not too terrible! Hope you guys like it! :D

"Three fractured ribs, documented cardiac arrhythmia, and symptoms of a minor concussion." Waverly flips through the records at the foot of Napoleon's bed one more time. It's mostly for effect now; Waverly was more than likely informed about the American agent's condition the minute he was admitted. "Am I leaving anything out?"

Napoleon shakes his head slightly which feels weird because he's pretty muzzy from pain medication. "Think that about covers it," he mumbles thickly, squinting a little so he can make out Waverly's face better. It comes into focus for a few seconds before becoming fuzzy and blurred around the edges again.

Illya and Gaby had gracelessly dragged him into the ship's clinic a few hours earlier, dumping him on the nearest bed and cornering the startled physician a second or so later. Illya was ready to tear into him for allowing Napoleon out the door the first time but Napoleon prevented this by informing him that the medic in front of them was not, in fact, the one who had wrapped his ribs when he came in the first time. Illya made a personal vow to track said physician down later and give him a piece of his mind but there were other concerns at the moment.

Knowing that no amount of smooth talking could help him now, Napoleon was forced to sit and listen as Illya explained the events of The Chair in excruciating detail. Gaby, to her credit, remained remarkably impassive when Illya described Rudi's involvement and his subsequent demise. The only time her eyes widened and the muscles in her jaws tensed is when Illya told the physician he had to perform CPR on his partner after the last shock stopped his heart. She glanced at Napoleon, her expression dark and hard to read. She was angry but not at him; whatever doubts she may have had about her uncle had been shattered in a matter of seconds.

Arrangements were made for him to be transported to the nearest hospital once they made it back to the mainland but in the meantime he was stuck in the medical wing of the ship. The onboard physician had taken it from there, monitoring him closely until they made it back to the harbor where an ambulance was already waiting. Napoleon thought all of this was a bit unnecessary but he had very little say in the matter as he was ushered into the back of the ambulance and taken to a hospital two miles away.

The evaluation had gone about as well as Napoleon would have expected and he was subsequently hooked up to an EKG, confined to a bed, and forbidden from leaving the hospital for a full 48 hours so they could monitor his heart to make sure no serious damage had been done. They re-bandaged his ribs and hooked him up to an IV that fed both fluids and pain medication into the vein in his arm.

If there was any justice in the world, Illya and Gaby were being subjected to the same treatment and confined to the hospital as well. Napoleon doubted that somehow.

"You know, you're really going to have to get over this whole 'lone wolf' persona you've adopted over the past few years, Mr. Solo," Waverly tells him as he drops the file back into the folder at the end of Napoleon's bed. "It's simply not conducive to effective teamwork."

"Good thing I don't work with a team," Napoleon responds hazily, his words coming out muffled and thick.

"Actually, you do," Waverly counters, taking Napoleon's confused expression in stride. "At least you do, now."

At the other agent's continued confusion, Waverly takes pity on him and decides to elaborate. "It seems your partnership with and Mr. Kuryakin should be extended a bit longer. The three of you have proven to be successful and effective in particularly delicate assignments and we'd like to keep you together for a bit longer as a result."

Napoleon opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, and then closes it once more in defeat. He doesn't know what to make of the news and he's not entirely sure he's coherent enough to understand it at the moment (the painkillers are pretty strong). Sure, he liked working with Illya and Gaby on this assignment but he's never been much for partners or teams and this is all a little much to take in all at once.

"I'll give you some time to think about it," Waverly tells him as he turns toward the door. "Oh, and you have a new codename. Rather a good one, too: U.N.C.L.E."

The door closes behind him and Napoleon has just enough time to think what a terrible name that is before he succumbs to the pull of the painkillers and slips into a drug induced sleep.

OOOOO

When Napoleon opens his eyes again, he has no idea what time it is but he can tell it's late. The lights in the clinic are still on but they're muted and dim to help the patients sleep. There are no clocks on the wall but from sheer circadian rhythm alone, Napoleon guesses it's between three and four o'clock in the morning.

Gaby is curled up in the chair beside his bed, sound asleep and covered in Illya's coat. She had changed clothes at some point, trading the blue jumpsuit they'd been given once they got back on the ship with a long-sleeve shirt and a pair of black pants. Her hair is down and she's barefoot and honestly this is the most relaxed she's looked since all of this began. Napoleon smiles a little at the thought.

"Decided to wake up?" a deep voice asks from the other side of the bed and Napoleon turns to see Illya occupying the other chair. He's changed clothes as well but, unlike Gaby, he still looks as stiff and uptight as ever.

"Decided to lurk?" Napoleon asks in response, wincing when his ribs shift and the wires snaking beneath his shirt snag when he tries to move. The monitors beep in warning but that's about it.

"Decided to keep watch," Illya corrects him easily, his eyes locked on the other agent. Once he's satisfied that the pain was merely temporary, he relaxes just a little.

"Not used to people watching me when I sleep, Peril," Napoleon teases lightly, trying to shift into a more comfortable position without jostling his ribs too much. It takes a few seconds and exhaustion combined with the tight bindings leave him a little breathless by the end.

He winces again and nods toward the end of the bed where the medical team had tucked his clothes and personal items into a small plastic bin. "Got something for you," he tells Illya, indicating the bin. "I meant to give it you earlier but-" he shrugs and gestures to the room with one hand.

Illya stands silently and picks up the bin, sifting through it until he finds the pants Napoleon had been wearing on the island. There's a watch inside one of the front pockets; his father's watch. For a moment Illya can't breathe.

He takes it out and loops it around his wrist, the weight warm and familiar against his skin. He looks it over carefully, searching for any kind of damage the bastard who took it may have caused. It still looks as good as ever.

He opens his mouth to say something but Napoleon just waves him off casually. "Lucky find," he says, lightly downplaying the importance of it

Napoleon's eyes land on something on the bedside table and it brings all the stress and frustration from the past few days back into sharp focus. It's the hard drive, sitting innocently on the table like it wasn't at the center of what likely could have been World War III. Napoleon wants to burn it to ashes.

Illya notices his gaze and follows it to the hard drive. He frowns, conflicted. "You know what my mission is." It's not a question at this point.

"Same as mine was," Napoleon replies easily. "Kill me if necessary to get to that."

Illya looks between his newly acquired partner and the hard drive on the table. "So now what?"

The American agent just shrugs one shoulder. "We could burn it."

Illya almost laughs but then he realizes the other agent is serious. He thinks about it for a moment, giving serious consideration to the suggestion. Finally he nods and glares at the hard drive again. "I like this plan."

"Good, it's settled then," Napoleon says, shifting again and, subsequently, wincing again. "As soon as I'm out of here we'll have a bonfire."

"Medical clearance first," Illya tells him and Napoleon resists the urge to roll his eyes.

"Yes, yes. Medical clearance first."

Illya nods in approval and reclaims his seat, absently touching the watch at his wrist a few times as if convincing himself it's still there. Napoleon sees this gesture but doesn't point it out; the watch is important to Illya so, by extension, it's important to Napoleon. He glances over at Gaby sleeping in the chair and then back at the large Russian agent sitting on the other side of the bed. As far as partnerships go, Napoleon figures it could definitely be worse.

"Absolutely hated working with you, Peril," he says, leaning back just slightly to take some of the pressure off his ribs.

Illya suppresses a small smile. "You're a terrible spy, Cowboy."

Thanks so much for reading guys! :D