"Uh oh," Illya said to himself, as a gang of boys surrounded him led by the bully he'd dealt with in the playground. The odds seemed to be against him and he knew that given his size he was going to get hurt. He launched into a viscous attack, fighting the best way a child can, very, very dirty. He managed to get in several kicks to the groin before they had him pinned down.

As he slipped off into unconsciousness he thought he heard a voice say, "What's going on here? Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" The voice had a British accent and the man belonging to it, grabbed several of the attackers and chased the whole bunch of them away. The man bent down in front of the child and tapped him on the side of the cheek until the blue eyes fluttered open. "Are you alright sunshine?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Don't mention it. I couldn't let them get away with beating on a kid now could I? Bodie," he said as he stuck out his hand to help Illya to his feet. Illya assumed it was his name.

"Illya Nicolaievich Kuryakin. Pleased to meet you Mr Bodie."

"Oh well if we're going to be so formal about it, William Andrew Philip Bodie, all the princes. I was such a regal looking baby."

"Really?"

"Yes really. You handled yourself well, considering the odds against you. Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

"In self defence classes. You were rather good yourself, where did you learn?"

"Oh here and there," Bodie said evasively. "It's lucky I happened to be passing."

"Is it?"

"Not really, your Uncle Waverly sent me, he told me to say that."

"Did he tell you to say anything else?"

"The swallows are circling over the Del Floria's tailors shop."

"Oh."

"I hope that makes sense to you because it sounds like gibberish to me."

"Most code words do." Illya looked the man over. He was no more than twenty years old; a child. A child to help a child. 'A nice touch Mr Waverly' he thought to himself.

"What did you do to those guys anyway?"

"Nothing really, they're just bullies, they like to pick on those they perceive to be weak. Listen, I'd like to thank you properly for your help, I don't suppose you'd like to come to tea?"

"I don't think…"

"We have lots of chocolate things, and mother was supposed to be making a Swiss roll."

"Well it would be ungrateful of me to turn down such a kind offer."

"Then afterwards I'd like to discuss something with you."

"Oh yeah? What possible purpose could that serve?"

"You never know when you might want to listen to the radio."

"I wonder how I ever managed out in the jungle without one. It's such a brilliant concept and so very useful," Bodie went on sarcastically.

"Yes it is."

"I often find when people are shooting at me, that I'd like nothing better than to turn on a radio and listen to Sonny and Cher singing their latest hit."

"Latest hit? They've only had one haven't they? 'I've got you babe'."

"You sure do sunshine," Bodie camped up.

"I meant that was the name of the song."

"And I thought we were so good together," Bodie camped again, then seeing the stubborn expression on Illya's face, he relented. "Yes I know I was just teasing you. Though I have been out of touch a while, I've heard nothing else on the radio since I came here. All day every day, it's enough to drive you stark raving bonkers."

Illya could see the conversation was starting to get to Bodie so he decided to change the discussion to something a bit safer. Back to food, that seemed a good topic to discuss with Bodie and he quite liked the odd bite or two himself. "So what did you think of April's Swiss roll?"

"Delicious. Your mother is very nice too. She already fits two of my three categories."

"Really?"

"Yes she's under fifty and definitely warm, the only question is if she'll come across."

"She's already spoken for," Illya replied quickly and not specifying who by.

"Yes I know." Bodie turned his attention back to the device in Illya's hand, "How do you know it'll work?"

Illya shot Bodie an affronted look. "It will of course have to be field tested, but I feel confident that it will work as it was designed to do."

"When will you test it?"

"I'll do it at a time when I'm present to hear the results," and to see Napoleon's face, he added in thought only.

"I'd like to be there too. I'm still not convinced it'll work."

"Of course it will work. Every communicator operates on a slightly different frequency and this device happens to be tuned into Napoleon's. But if you insist, I'll test it at a time when you're also present to witness the results."

Illya thought about it for a moment and then said with a smirk, "I've got a teddy bear which Napoleon got me, you can play with him if you want."

"Haven't you got a train set or anything? When I was a kid I remember I had a big one and all my friends used to come around and play with it." It wasn't until Bodie had the words out that he realised how it sounded. Sure Mr Waverly had mentioned that Illya was a grown up, but he still couldn't help the fact that it was a child sitting across from him.

"Did you let a lot of people play with your train set then?"

"Oh yeah, there wasn't much else to do. I came from a very poor neighbourhood and the only thing to play with for miles around was my train set."

Illya burst out laughing and before long Bodie joined in.

"I am bored, but I'm not going to start doing that kind of thing."

"Why not?"

"Okay, what if April walks in?"

"I'll tell her I asked you to."

"Before or after she screams pervert and clouts me black and blue with her handbag?"

"Bodie I'm surprised at you. April is a trained agent, she doesn't clout people with handbags. No she uses her fists and kicks them with her feet."

"What if you get hurt?"

"I have a mouth Bodie, I can yell out when someone hurts me. Besides I am an adult. Go on."

"This isn't my idea of entertainment, you know."

"I know Bodie." The Russian smiled sensing he had won.

"Yes I just told you that a minute ago. This requires a lot of concentration you know."

"As long as you're sure. You will yell out when you've had enough?"

"For goodness sake Bodie, will you pack it in? Read a book or something."

Bodie picked up one of Illya's comic books and began to read. At least that was the impression he was aiming to give, whilst he kept peering over the top of book to make sure the Russian was okay.

"Nothing."

"What do you mean nothing?"

"Well I spent all afternoon cooking, then Illya brought a friend home and together they ate it all."

"Impossible, no child could have an appetite like Illya."

"I didn't say he was a child Napoleon. He looks about twenty or so. They're up in Illya's room now playing. I tell you Napoleon, they're like a couple of kids. Where are you going?" She asked as Napoleon headed for the stairs.

"A twenty year old man, getting friendly with a six year old kid, what's wrong with that picture? I'm going to deal with our naïve young Russian and his guest."

April smiled to herself. She'd already checked out Bodie as soon as Illya brought him home. He was a mercenary Mr Waverly had hired to follow Illya, and protect him from those who may wish to harm him. He usually worked out in Africa and April wasn't really clear on why he was in America. Mr Waverly said he was to be trusted, so that either meant his fee was so large he couldn't be tempted by Thrush or he was being blackmailed somehow into helping them. She suspected the latter, she couldn't imagine that Mr Waverly would pay enough to keep anyone from switching sides, but he wasn't adverse to a little blackmail every now and then.

"Um what is going on?"

"Ah Napoleon…" He said with a measure of surprise as he realised Napoleon was watching him and his skin broke out in a nice shade of pink at being discovered in this predicament.

"What are you doing?"

The question was answered by the dark-haired man. "Illya was just demonstrating to me how he escapes from ropes. The name's Bodie," he said got out of his seat and stuck out his hand for Napoleon to shake, which he duly did.

"I'm Napoleon Solo. I'm pleased to meet you Mr Bodie."

"That's just Bodie."

"Right," he turned back to look sideways at the Russian and indicted Illya with a movement of his head. "How long has he been at it?"

"Half an hour."

"And you were just going to leave him like that?"

Throughout their conversation Illya continued to struggle with the ropes.

"Of course not," he said indignantly. "In another 10 minutes he forfeits our bet."

They both left the room together.

"Hey," the Russian cried out from the bed. Both men peeked around the doorframe in time to see Illya releasing himself from the ropes.

"Are you just going to leave him like that?" Bodie asked indicating the bound Russian who they had just tied up and dumped on the floor.

"Well he should be occupied for another half hour. Would you like a drink Bodie?"

"I'd love one."

Napoleon turned and looked at Bodie with a suspicious gaze. "I'll rephrase that. Are you old enough to drink Bodie?"

"Stupid darn country," Bodie complained.

"I'll take that as a no, shall I?"

"Oh I'll just have a coke please."

As Bodie was about to descend the stairs Napoleon put his hand on his shoulder to stop him, "Er no, stay here and I'll bring it up to you. You can keep an eye on him. But for goodness sakes don't let him see you."

"What are you doing?" He asked quite reasonably.

Illya stopped jumping a moment to respond to the question. "Napoleon once told me he used to jump on the bed when he was a boy and I've always wanted to try it."

"So why wait until now?"

"It always struck me as a childish pursuit and now seems the ideal opportunity to pursue it. It's fun do you want to join me?"

"I don't think your bed could take my weight…"

"Probably too many Swiss rolls…"

"However, I would like to take this opportunity to introduce you to another childish pursuit if I may. It's called a pillow fight," he said as he grabbed a pillow.

Consequently when Napoleon returned with the drinks, he found a pair of rather beat up looking pillows.

He set Bodie's cola down on the table.

"I'm sorry I took so long but I was speaking with Mr Waverly."

"Oh? Has he got any more for us?"

"No. Nothing much."

Bodie looked at the glass, "Is that my coke?"

"Er yes. That's right."

"Let's get him."

They charged at Napoleon with a pair of pillows. Napoleon took up a pillow to defend himself from their attacks and shouted for April to assist him. April on viewing the situation, was undecided as to whether to attack Napoleon who'd left all the housework to her, or the two young men who'd scoffed all the cooking that she'd spent hours doing. In the end she took up position with a pillow of her own and divided the blows equally between them. The pillow fight ended when all four pillows were looking rather worse for wear and a great deal of stuffing was on the carpet.

"So how was your day today?" Napoleon asked.

"Oh fine, fine."

"Really? Are you sure? Didn't get into any trouble?"

"Of course not."

"Didn't use your gun," Napoleon said through tight lips, "if I were to open it up say, I wouldn't find any darts missing? Perhaps been fired?"

"No of course not," then seeing Napoleon's expression, "who talked?"

"I heard from a mutual friend of ours that there was some trouble in class. Apparently a young girl was reading out her story when she suddenly fainted. Our friend when he was talking to the nurse about the incident, spotted a sleep dart and removed it from the girl before anyone else saw it."

"It was Mark," he paused for thought, then decided, "I'll kill him."

"No you won't. Illya we're not supposed to be causing trouble. We're supposed to be looking for signs of Thrush activity or whoever those scientists were who grabbed you, in the school or local area."

"You don't suppose Andrea's Thrush?" Illya asked leaping to his feet.

"Sit down," Napoleon ordered. "She's just a child Illya."

"So am I, apparently."

"You're saying she could have been changed too?" Illya nodded and Napoleon continued, "All right I'll have her checked out. In the meantime, Mark tells me he thinks there's something wrong in the music department."

"I think Mark needs his head examined."

"Still, we'll have to check it out. It would help if we had a man on the inside. Now didn't you once tell me you played the piano?"

"Yes but not very well."

"I thought you said you had been playing for years?"

"You can have played for years without necessarily being very good."

"Oh come on Illya we're talking about children here. The teachers couldn't care less how bad your playing is."

Illya winced, sure he'd insulted his own playing, but he felt it completely unnecessary for Napoleon to agree with him. "And how exactly do you intend to get rid of the child that's playing the piano now? Slam the piano lid down and break his fingers?"

"I'm sure I'll think of something."

"On the contrary, Madam, I assure you I am playing all the right notes, though not necessarily in the correct order."

"Let's begin again shall we children, remember the play is tonight."

"This key is sticking." He watched as he depressed the key several times and each time it came up miserably half way.

"The way you play Nick, no one will even know the difference," said Angie, one of the many singers who had been picking on Illya since he started rehearsing the music for the play.

"Now remember children, the music gives the direction 'dolce'."

Kuryakin was furious. He was tired of the insults and the jibes. So what if he wasn't very good. It had been years since he'd played and his hands were a lot bigger at the time. They didn't stretch as much now, his hands were too small to play properly he decided. On top of everything else he hated the way that everyone was calling him Nick. So what if his name sounded too Russian to fit into a suburban school. He'd had enough. They'd pushed him too far. He was going to make them pay. He'd show them 'dolce'. Yes revenge is very sweet.

"Oh?" Mark said with obvious surprise.

"The children always do something to spoil it. I never wanted to be a school teacher at all, I hate children."

"What did you want to be?"

"A lumberjack," she replied and Slate wondered if she'd been at the booze. She smiled looking at Mark, "I'm sorry, I just wasn't expecting the Spanish inquisition."

"Nobody does," Slate reassured her.

Down in the audience, Napoleon hung his head and tried to hide it in his hands, with the shame. He looked over at the music teacher who openly glared at Illya. He looked across at Mr Waverly, he seemed to be enjoying himself at least. He was the only one who was. He sighed. He got the feeling that although Illya had orchestrated this little display, that he and April would be standing in front of the head teacher to receive the punishment.

"Uh Mr Solo, Mr Kuryakin's performance is excellent as usual, though some of the other performances could use more work."

"Er yes sir," Napoleon wondered how Mr Waverly failed to see that it was Illya who was throwing everybody else's performance off kilter, but he decided it was best not to draw his attention to that fact.

"You know I'd of never have guessed that you were a head teacher, you're very young."

"Mr Solo…"

"Please call me Napoleon," he said as he felt her surrendering to his charms. "I think you're very beautiful."

"Mr Solo, I think you're very married."

"Out," the little girl shouted her verdict on the ball.

"What? You cannot be serious, that ball was in. Mr Slate what do you think?" asked the young dark-haired boy, who was approximately Illya's age, apparently appealing for an unbiased judgement.

He was sorely disappointed, "It was out," Mark announced, much to Illya's surprise. Apparently Mark was under the impression that if he gave Illya every chance to win the match he could get back into Illya's good books. Unfortunately he hadn't reckoned on the fiery temperament of Illya's opponent, a John somebody… if only he could remember his surname.

"It was on the line, how could it possibly be out…" he continued his rant obviously passionate about the game. But it was only a game after all, at least to Illya anyway. No he didn't mind losing a game, it was the war he wanted to win. As Illya listened half-heartedly to the boy's rant, Illya's mind started to stray and he wondered what the boy, John would be like at eighteen. More importantly, he wondered what he would be like when John was eighteen. Would he be eighteen too?

"Nick what do you think?"

It took Illya a moment to rejoin the planet earth and realise what exactly John was referring to. "Oh absolutely, it was most definitely in," he replied. Much to everyone's surprise. The girl with the crush started looking at him in a new light, like he was the best thing since sliced bread and Illya rolled his eyes at her.

"Thanks for before, you didn't have to agree with me, you had more to lose by the verdict than anybody."

"I had no desire to win unfairly. You were obviously the better player."

"It's what I want to be when I grow up."

"What a tennis player?"

"Yes, either that or a rock star. What do you want to be?"

"A spy. I'm sorry John, but I can't remember your surname."

"Oh it's McEnroe."

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12