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The small window in the cell is the only way for Illya to measure the time of his captivity; his watch and anything else that could have concealed a gadget or weapon had been seized from him. THRUSH wasn’t even risking a chance that he might find a way to escape or summon help.
He had to give them credit; this THRUSH outpost was in such a hidden location that Illya had only stumbled upon it by accident. He had been swarmed by THRUSHies before he had been able to contact Napoleon.
There is little else to do other than lie on the cot and watch the sky change from day to night and back again. THRUSHies come by at all hours of the day and night to question him, and try to beat the answers out of him. They starve him, giving him only one small meal a day—and how he suffers with his metabolism being as rapid as it was!
And yet, Illya still manages to hold on to one spark of hope: the spark of hope that assures him that Napoleon has ways of finding him without gadgets and devices—just as he has done in the past for Napoleon, as well.
It is after the sun rises for the fifteenth time through that tiny window that things begin to change—that panicked shouts fill the THRUSH hideout, and people stampede past his cell for the underground exit.
Illya turns his head slightly, and his heart skips a beat upon seeing Napoleon storming past, pursuing the THRUSHies with righteous fury. The movement of Illya’s head doesn’t escape his partner; Napoleon glances in his direction—and then stops dead as he registers what he’s seeing.
In a matter of seconds, he abandons his quarry; for him, revenge is less important than liberating his beloved.
He blasts the lock open and is by his side in an instant, clearly horrified by how gaunt and injured Illya has become.
“What did they do to you?” he asks, gently gathering his partner in his arms.
“Nothing I cannot recover from,” Illya assures him, and he means it. In Napoleon’s arms, he feels safe at last, knowing that Napoleon will look after him. …It almost made the whole ordeal worth it—almost.
He looks up at his partner as Napoleon carries him out of the cell; Napoleon is softly talking to him, reassuring him and asking him to hold on just a little bit longer. He is more worried than necessary, but that’s just the way he is—Illya is hungry and a bit beaten up, but hardly in critical condition.
“Napoleon, I’ll be alright…”
He has to keep repeating those words as Napoleon takes him to Medical, tucking him in the hospital bed and making sure he gets food down. Here, when they are both safe, Napoleon lets more emotions in and out, gently kissing Illya on the lips and forehead.
At last, Illya knows it’s over when Napoleon, satisfied that Illya is on the mend, manages to lift the burden of worry from his shoulders and fall asleep in the chair beside Illya’s hospital bed.
And he, too, falls into a peaceful sleep for the first time in weeks.