The next morning Napoleon tried to get Illya to work on time, but Illya refused. Not that Napoleon blamed him, but it wasn't like him not to face things head on.
When he did get to headquarters he couldn't help but notice that the receptionist stood up and handed him his badge rather than placing it on his lapel. It was just another sign that things were not right. He wished that Illya was walking by his side, his head held high.
Right now, he had a bone to pick with Mr. Waverly. Tightening his jaw, he limped his way through the halls heading for Waverly's office. Lisa Rogers saw him coming and swiftly moved to block his way.
"I'm sorry, but Mr. Waverly is unavailable at the moment." To Lisa's credit, she did look sorry.
"Just when will he be available?" Napoleon asked heatedly.
Lisa tilted her head, spread her arms and shrugged.
Napoleon wanted to argue the point; however, his better judgment had him turn away. What was he going to do now? He meandered through the metal lined hallways, noting who met his eyes and who didn't and filing it away for later review.
He paused when he found himself at the doorway to the commissary. He wasn't really hungry, but he smiled, thinking that Illya would probably be. He hobbled through the doorway and suddenly all the noise stopped. He turned around and looked behind him. No such luck - everyone was reacting to him. The really weird thing was he and Illya hadn't done anything to engender this. He didn't really have time to deal with this, however, on the other side of the room he spotted the one person who might be able to help him get a handle on this.
He was somewhat surprised that she hadn't heard him coming. When finally the beautiful redhead looked up, she smiled. "Napoleon! I heard you'd gotten back." She waved her hand toward the seat across from her. She actually looked happy to see him.
"Talk to me," he insisted as he set his crutches aside and sat down.
"About what?" Her eyes, innocent, looked at him through her long lashes as she sipped the straw in her milkshake. Napoleon studied her and apparently April Dancer knew not to play around with him. She let out a heavy sigh. "Illya's medical report has been making the rounds. Personally I think you make a cute couple."
Napoleon stopped breathing. He thought he knew why Illya was being ostracized, but he was at a loss as to how anyone knew. He remembered quite clearly pulling Illya off the bed and trying to get his pants pulled up over his erection before dragging him into the bathroom and jumping out the window. The only thing he could think of was that Illya had enjoyed having something stuck up his ass, not out of the realm of possibilities. Napoleon had had the pleasure himself. He needed to talk to Illya about it. But, right now he had other matters to occupy his time.
April kept talking the whole time, but he wasn't really paying attention. He tuned back in just in time to hear her say, "...if it doesn't bother me that Mark's that way..." April had paused suddenly and her face took on a pinkish hue and she looked as guilty as hell. Was she saying that Mark like men? That little nugget he filed away for later perusal. He got up and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, leaving April blushing a bit more.
There was a smile on his face as he made his way across the commissary to the door, ignoring the growing volume as people returned to their gossiping. He looked both ways debating where to go next when he spotted Mandy Stevenson gossiping with fellow employees. He had a pretty good idea as to what the subject of conversation was and that decided for him. He turned to go the other way. No such luck.
"Napoleon! Napoleon," Mandy called as she hurried to catch up with him. When he stopped for the inevitable, she startled him by giving him a hug. "I'm so happy for you." Then she hit him in the chest. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Huh?" was Napoleon's brilliant response. "You don't, by any chance, have a copy..."
"Sure." Mandy rifled through the stack of folders she held in her arms and pulled out one. "Here."
Napoleon opened the file and blanched as he read the detailed report. It was obvious that certain things had been left out. Like the fact that Illya had been drugged and in essence raped.
"Wasn't it a tad unethical of medical to release that information?" Mandy asked with a frown.
Clearing his throat, Napoleon nodded his agreement. "Mandy, I couldn't agree more." He slipped the folder under his armpit and hobbled away.
With renewed determination, he headed for the Medical Section. The door swished open before he reached it and out stepped the attractive red-headed nurse that he often flirted with. To his surprise, she smiled at him as she walked past, wiggling her behind as she glanced over her shoulder and winked at him.
He continued into Medical with a lighter heart. Maybe things weren't so bad after all. Then he saw her. Blonde, big boobs, and as tall as he, she standing in front of the file cabinet filing medical reports. Nurse Helga was his and Illya's arch nemesis.
He moved closer and brought his crutch to tap her shoulder, amused when she jumped and turned around. "What do you want?" she asked, spitefully.
Napoleon held his temper. "I'd like to see the medical records of agents treated in the past two weeks."
One shapely blonde brow rose as she moved to sit behind her desk. "You know we cannot release that information."
"It didn't stop someone from releasing this," Napoleon snapped, as he tossed the folder containing Illya's on her desk.
Dr. Edison Wilds walked in just then, his eyes on the patient's chart in his hand. The infirmary was overrun with patients of late. His dark hair was sprinkled with grey, his dark eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses were almost black. . Fifty-four years of age, he had the distinction of being the head of U.N.C.L.E. medical in New York City. At 5'8" he was three inches shorter than his head nurse and normally had to look up at her.
"You harassing my nurses again, Solo?" He asked without looking up a smile, then frowned when he finally did and he took in Napoleon's physical condition. "You here about the leg?"
"Actually, I came in to check on any recent patients you might have."
One brow rose. The request itself was not unusual, it was the tone in which it was asked that was.
"And I told Mr. Solo that we do not tell just anyone that information," Helga responded firmly.
"That's true," Wilds agreed. "However, Mr. Solo is not just anyone. As head of Section Two he does have that right." He looked at his nurse, bemused by her attitude. Then he saw the file lying on the desk. "Is that Mr. Solo's file?" Picking it up, he leafed through it and his frown deepened, his eyes widening the more he read. "This appears to be Mr. Kuryakin's file. Come to think of it, I haven't seen him in here lately. When did these come in?" He waved the folder in her direction.
"And why is this the first I've seen of these?" Wilds demanded.
"You were in surgery. I did not wish to bother you."
Napoleon could tell that something about her answer bothered the doctor, but he wasn't sure what. Wilds nodded and continued to study the file as he walked to his office. He turned back, crocked his finger at Napoleon to follow, at the same time he made a request of Helga. "Oh, Nurse, kindly get me Solo's file."
He settled into his chair and studied Napoleon. "I don't think you should read this without Mr. Kuryakin's permission."
"You've got to be kidding," Napoleon exploded. "Half the people in this building have seen this report."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Wilds asked.
Napoleon told him.
That brought Wilds up short. "Just where did you get this?" he asked.
"Mandy in translations."
"How the hell did she get it?"
"They're all over the building." Napoleon frowned, a spark of anger going through him. "My guess is Helga been passing them around."
Doctor Wilds gave Napoleon a good, hard look trying to discern if he is telling the truth before turning his attention to his chief nurse. "Nurse, do you have any idea what he's talking about?"
Helga crossed her arms in front of her massive chest, her lips pressed firmly together, before she spat defiantly, "None."
"I'm disappointed. You know these records are confidential." He waved the file in Helga's face.
His head nurse refused to look him in the eye. That in itself was highly unusual. Helga backed down to no one.
"Why would you do that?" he asked.
Helga glared at Napoleon, her body posture stiff. "People should know just what type of person they are dealing with." Her voice dripped with venom.
It was obvious that nothing could have shocked Wilds more. He fell back into his chair, his facial expression changing in a matter of seconds. "The file, your request, the abundance of patients. It all makes sense now." What Napoleon couldn't know was that this brought back memories of Wild's older brother, whose life was tragically cut short, and the reason he'd become a doctor in the first place. "Clear out your desk."
She gaped at him in shock. "You must be joking. We've work together for over ten years."
"Did you think I would side with you on this?" Wilds stood up abruptly. "Do I have to call in security?" Nothing pleased Napoleon more than watching Wild reach for the phone and he almost laughed when she turned and stalked out of the doctor's office. If he had his way there would be no transferring to another headquarters. He'd make sure of that.
The doctor fell back into his seat, "I'm afraid I'm feeling older than my fifty-four years. She was one of the best nurses I've ever worked with. I hate losing her."
Napoleon didn't agree, how good of a nurse could she be if she felt that way?
Dr. Wild had, in the meantime, opened the large file and found the original exactly where it should be on top. He flipped through the multiple sheets and compared the records with Illya's last checkup. He shook his head. "This, I fear, does not match up with Kuryakin's last physical. The details in this latest medical chart are damning and written so that even a nonprofessional could understand." He muttered, talking to himself. Then he looked over the rim of his glasses. "You weren't responsible for this damage, I hope."
Napoleon looked affronted. It had not been his fault that they'd been kidnapped, though he did feel guilty. "No."
The phone rang. Wild's held up a finger and answered.
"Wilds... Yes, I fired her and no, you cannot transfer her. I want her memory wiped and her out of here today, now."
He listened for a moment rolled his eyes at Napoleon. "Let me speak to Sherman." He drummed his fingers on his desk and then straightened as someone apparently answered. "Sherm. I assume you're aware of the medical records floating around?,,, Ahuh, she's the party that is responsible. ... You think I'm being drastic? I can't trust her. ... How would you like it if your medical records spread around headquarters... Thank you. I knew you'd see it my way."
Wilds slammed the phone down and smiled with satisfaction. "I hate bigots," he muttered. "Now let's see that leg of yours."