Pillow Talk
by Charlie Kirby

"Illya, are you asleep?"

It was a strange question to ask, considering what the past forty eight hours had handed them -- capture, escape, recapture and an even more flamboyant escape, complete with an explosion and a firestorm worthy of the burning of Moscow. They'd been beaten, tossed from a moving vehicle, drugged, threatened, and generally just made miserable.

Now they were secluded away in one of the best rooms the small village had to offer. The room was small, but it was clean and the bed was comfortable. There had been food, wine and even some pleasant female company. Certainly, there was enough reason to fall asleep the minute their heads hit the pillows. Instead...

"No, not really... what's wrong?" It was dark in the room, but Illya knew Napoleon would be stretched out on his back, one arm behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

"Nothing... I was just thinking... well, wondering, really."

"What?"

"Why are we friends?"

"I'm sorry?" Illya rolled onto his side, wincing at the pain in his hip where he'd caught the bumper of a truck. "I don't understand."

"Look at us. We are about as different as two men could possibly be. Besides work, we have nothing in common; we don't like the same music, the same literature, the same anything really."

"We like blondes." Illya's lips curled at the memory of the time spent with his evening's date. Smart, thoughtful, and so very soft in all the right places, he'd enjoyed the time spent with her.

"Besides that. I mean, what do I offer you as a friend? I take advantage of your generosity, your natural abilities, and act pretty damned smug about it."

"True, but when I first arrived here, you held out your hand to me in open friendship when very few others would even acknowledge my presence, this in spite of your time in Korea fighting the communists. You have always been there for me and I know I can trust you with a confidence. You're solid, you're strong, and you're dependable."

"You make me sound like a tree."

Illya smiled, even though he knew Napoleon couldn't see it. "In my rather shaky existence, you are. You have sheltered me and given me both support and protection. Who would not want that in a friend?"

"I just wondered..." he fell silent, but Illya knew he was still awake, still staring at the ceiling. "If anything happened to you... well, I can't think of anyone who's ever been a better friend to me. I'd miss you."

"And I, you." He felt the bed shift and knew Napoleon had rolled onto his side, facing him. "Then we shall both have to try very hard to keep each other safe for the sake of our friendship."

"For the sake of our hearts."

Illya felt Napoleon's hand on his, seeking reassurance, reassuring in return. He squeezed it gently. "Then, yes, for the sake of our hearts, my friend."