"Hello Doctor how are things going?"

"Well he's certainly as bad a patient as Illya Kuryakin, I'll say that for him," Doctor Morrison looked at the boy who was sitting on his medical table frowning, with his arms crossed stubbornly in front of him.

"They poked and prodded everything on my body. If I hadn't been so concerned about proving I am who I say I am I'd have bitten somebody or broken some bones."

"Be nice Illya. So the results are conclusive?" Napoleon queried.

"Most conclusive. Was there ever any doubt?"

"Well he is as ill-mannered as the grown up version," ignoring the dark look he received, he continued. "When can I take him?"

"Oh he can leave now. I believe Mr Waverly wants to see him. I've already informed him of the results."

"Come on my little flower." He looked sufficiently pleased with himself when a sulking Illya jumped down from the table and walked into the corridor, that was until the blond stamped on his foot as he walked past. "Illya?"

"Just don't push it. Illya when I first saw you, why didn't you tell me who you were?"

"You wouldn't have believed me. If an eight-year old American boy with brown hair and eyes told me he was Napoleon Solo, I wouldn't have believed him either."

"Yes but luckily there's not quite as many blonde-haired, blue-eyed Russian's living in this part of the world." His face took on a slight grin as he continued, "I've got news for you though. I think you're younger than that. I'd say you were about six."

"Well thanks for cheering me up with that nice piece of news."

"Don't mention it."

"I wonder if the Doctor can give me an accurate estimate of my age?"

"Move him in sir?"

"Yes Mr Solo, tell people that the boy is your illegitimate son."

"Couldn't we tell people that he's Illya Kuryakin's illegitimate son?"

"What and ruin my reputation?" Illya piped up.

"What about my reputation?"

"Your reputation has been in tatters for years. Besides people probably expect it."

"Master Kuryakin is quite right Mr Solo. If we told people that they'd never believe it. Most of the staff already think he's gay and…"

"What?" Illya interrupted.

"Young man, I'm a firm believer in the saying that children should be seen and not heard. Now go sit on that couch and keep quiet before I have to turn you over my knee."

Napoleon couldn't help smiling at the indignant expression on Illya's face as he followed Mr Waverly's instructions. With his back turned Illya couldn't see the smile that appeared briefly on the Old Man's lips.

"You were saying sir?"

"Oh yes. Mr er Kuryakin is allowed to stay in the West on the grounds that he is in the employ of UNCLE. Any child of his would not have such permission. He would be classed as an illegal immigrant and would have to be sent back to Russia. Just tell people that the boys' mother was Russian and she is whom he takes after. That way the boy wouldn't need to disguise his accent."

"Em sir, I haven't had much experience dealing with children that age. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Discipline Mr Solo, if he misbehaves you must spank him."

"But that's Illya sir."

"I'm aware of that Mr Solo. But at the moment he is also a six-year old child and mustn't be allowed to run amuck. I'll assign other teams to looking for the scientists that did this. Mark Slate will be in charge of that operation. I'll have our labs look into the bits and pieces of notes that were found. You just concentrate on the joys of fatherhood until I assign you your next case."

After leaving Mr Waverly's office Napoleon silently contemplated how he was going to get rid of 'his son' for the evening so he could have his date with the lovely Susie in peace. He spotted one of the secretaries further down the corridor and decided to try and rope her into babysitting duties. He hurried down the hallway dragging Illya with him.

"You look lovely my darling Wanda," inwardly he sighed. How many times had he stood her up? It seemed unlikely he'd persuade her to do anything for him.

"What do you want Napoleon?"

"Em Wanda this is my son, Nick," he said deciding on a different attack, "he's staying with me at my apartment, but unfortunately I've just had some urgent business crop up and I wondered if you might look after him tonight?"

"Business Napoleon? That's the first time I've heard it called that. Is she pretty?"

"Now Wanda…"

"Sure Napoleon I'll take care of your son. I'll start by telling him what a two-timing rat his father is."

"Oh I already know that," Illya joined in, "my mother said to me, 'Nicolas your father is a dog named Napoleon, make sure you don't grow up to be like him.'"

"I'll see you later Wanda," Napoleon said as he manoeuvred Illya away from the angry secretary and into the sanctity of his office. "Alright, what's got you rankled?"

"You could have at least told me you had a date tonight and I'd be in the way, instead of trying to palm me off with one of the secretaries. Despite what Waverly says, I am quite capable of staying at my own apartment and taking care of myself for the evening. But no, you don't even bother to ask me what I want. You're such a bast…" He broke off when Napoleon put his hand over his mouth to stop him.

"Illya little boys aren't supposed to use that kind of language and if they do they get a spanking."

"You wouldn't?"

"Well no I wouldn't like to and I'd hate every minute of it, but for the sake of appearances I'd be obligated to do it."

Illya tilted his head to one side and looked up slightly, "you don't think Mr Waverly was serious about doing what he said in his office, do you?"

"Oh yes, very. I think that until you're grown up again, you'll have to be careful of what you say and do around him."

"What if I'm stuck like this?"

"You won't be stuck like that. Even if we can't restore you, you heard the doctors report, it said you'd just grow up naturally. Though I have to say, I don't envy you if you have to go through puberty again."

"Really? Imagine going through it backwards."

"Ouch."

Napoleon sunk into his chair, realising with a sigh that he'd be forced to do his own paperwork on the rescue mission and wondered where on earth he was going to find someone he could rope or cajole into looking after Illya whilst he was looking after his date. Illya sat in his own chair with his legs dangling.

Napoleon looked across to exactly how far the Russian could reach on his desk. If he wanted to Napoleon was sure Illya would be able to reach his typewriter and type out Napoleon's report.

"Illya, how about you typing my report for me?"

"I would have. But like Mr Waverly says 'children do not type reports.'"

"I don't remember him saying that."

"Sure you do," he said maliciously, "right after he talked about misbehaving and spankings."

"You're just rankled because I took sides with Waverly, aren't you? You're taking perverse pleasure in the knowledge that I'll be spending hours typing a report that would take you just a few minutes."

"Well you could always con one of the secretaries into typing it," he grinned as a thought occurred to him. "How about the lovely Wanda?" He narrowly avoided being hit by the flying book that Napoleon threw at him.

"So who's your date with Napoleon?"

"The lovely Susie," Napoleon said with a sigh.

"Is she the one with the big…"

"Er yes she does…"

"I don't mind Napoleon I can take care of myself…"

"Forget it Illya, if anything happened to you when you were supposed to be in my care, I'd never hear the end of it."

"So what will you do?"

Before Napoleon had a chance to answer someone knocked on the door to his office.

"Come in," he called and then smiled broadly when in walked April Dancer.

"Hello Napoleon, I just came into the office to finish my report, it's my day off. So here it is." She looked at him closely as she handed him her report, he seemed far too cheerful, "Napoleon why are you looking at me like that?"

"My darling April, you're just the person I wanted to see," he said as he moved into full charm mode.

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