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Written By: Solo’s Girl

Quarantine Room: UNCLE Infirmary, New York Headquarters

The florescent lighting buzzed even at its low level.

Two beds.

Two men.


The two agents lay covered with the white sheets. Not thick enough to keep them warm, and just enough to aggravate the rash they had both acquired on their last mission. Both men squirmed under the thin blankets trying desperately to scratch. Anything! Anywhere! But they found their arms and legs restrained.

Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin had successfully completed their “affair” but in a last ditch effort to escape, their THRUSH adversary had used a smoke bomb. He was still captured but a reaction to the chemicals had caused the two UNCLE agents to break out in a nasty rash.

Large patches of red skin, small water bumps within them, and the worst itching either had ever known. At first glance the areas of skin looked burned, but upon closer inspection you could see it was a rash.

Oddly enough the rash had not spread to their faces or hands, but to the areas that had been covered by their clothing.

Dr. Martz walked into the room, his chief nurse Miss Flemingloss close behind with a small rolling table covered with a cloth. The agents knew what that meant.

Stepping between the two beds the nurse uncovered the small steel tray revealing several instruments, two small vile and two syringes. There were a couple of small Petri dishes amongst the other things.

“Not more samples”, Napoleon moaned.

Martz smiled.

“Afraid so gentlemen,” he said, “but we have something that will help a little.”

The nurse filled the syringes and injected both men with a small dose of morphine. They began to feel better almost immediately.

“Preliminary test show no drug reaction,” Martz continued, “Perhaps to the clothes you were wearing, or the chemicals they are cleaned with reacted to the smoke. I have never seen any rash that developed on parts of the body that were covered

While he was talking, both nurse and doctor had removed the restraints and were slipping thick, soft cotton mittens over the agent’s hands. Napoleon lifted one hand and looked at the glove.

“My fingers have melted together,” he said, his words slow.

The nurse smiled.

“Mine too,” Illya said,

“Mine did,,,dit first,” Napoleon said, his words slurring.

“Gentlemen, this is not a competition,” Martz replied smiling as he and his nurse began removing tissue samples from the men.

The nurse turned the sheet back and started to take a sample from Illya’s foot.

“Ohhhh yes mame it…..is,” Illya said.

The Russian gave his head a shake. He felt light headed, but liked it.

“Mr. Kuryakin,” Nurse Flemingloss said, “What happened to your big toe?”

Illya wiggled his foot.

“Part got chopped off,” he said, making a chopping motion with one hand, “When I was lillle…lipil…”

“Little,” Martz said.

“That too,” the Russian went on, “Cutting firewood, missed the…the….log and boom.”

The nurse flinched.

“So there…Beat that….Mr. Solong.”

“Solo,” Martz said.

“Here,” said Napoleon raising his hand.

“The morphine seems to agree with them tonight,” the nurse said. She put the small tissue sample in one of the glass dishes and moved the sheet back over the agent’s feet.

Martz sat on the small stool and moved the sheet back from Solo’s right side

“Well I did…something more….no better ‘en an old toe,” Solo said, raising his right arm, “My whole arm…came off,” he made noises from the motorcycle accident then the crash, “But it was sewed back on…and it works.”

“The other arm, Mr. Solo,” Martz said, taking a small tissue sample from the agent’s side.

Solo dropped his right arm, the doctor catching it before it hit him in the head. He laid the agents arm across his chest. Napoleon raised his left arm. He waved it, and then made a swinging motion using the lower part of his arm. He swung his hand into the air and it came down hard slapping himself in the face.

Doctor Martz jumped up.

“Mr. Solo didn’t that hurt?” Martz said moving next to the agent.

The thick cotton gloved hand slid from the agents face, pulling his bottom lip out. It slipped back quickly as Napoleon tried to focus.

“You did it,” Solo said looking at Dr. Martz, his lip quivering, “you fixed my arm…back…You took care of me…my father never took care of me….”

“There, there Mr. Solo,” Martz said smiling. He looked at the nurse. “How much morphine did you give them?” He added, a slight laugh in his voice.

“You liked me more then my …own father…”

“I think he’s going to cry!” Martz said, shaking his head.

Illya rolled on his side, nearly falling from the table.

“So….so…” he said.

“So…what, Mr. Kuryakin?” the nurse said helping him lay back down.

“HA! Sowhaaaaat Kuryakin,” Solo said laughing.

Doctor and nurse began to slowly redo the restraints to keep their patients from injuring themselves.

Illya pointed to his abdomen and the jagged scar.

“I had to take out my own appendage…no…appendix…” Illya said, “It was ready to blowup…and I took my knife and……”

“And you nearly died anyway,” Martz said.

The nurse readied the tray. She and Martz checked that the men were secured and covered them again.

Napoleon had a big silly smile on his face.

“I don’t have one either,” he said. He looked over at his partner. “Never had one…to start with.”

“Mr. Solo put your tongue back in your mouth you are not five years old,” the doctor said sharply.

Illya looked towards the voice. It was getting harder to see his partner.

“That’s….a lie….you big…..li….er,” his mouth felt dry, his words slower.

“I’m afraid he’s got you on this one,” Martz said, “Mr. Kuryakin. Napoleon is one of those very rare people to be born without an appendix…Sorry.”

Illya tried to respond.

“Save it Mr. Kuryakin….Napoleon beat you to sleep as well,” Nurse Flemingloss said, tucking the sheet in around the agent.

“Showoff,” the Russian mumbled as he fell asleep.

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