Authors Note

I'd like to thank The Darklady for reading this story through and checking for errors.
You may now start humming the Man from UNCLE theme tune (if you really want to) and begin reading the story (again if you really want to).

First posted: 24th April 01, Completion date: 9th January 02

Napoleon Solo was leading the assault team, looking for his partner. They'd received a tip off from an unknown source that the Russian was being held here, in this laboratory. Being that they'd not heard any news of his partner in days, Napoleon was willing to grasp at any straws. Napoleon was a little worried about what sort of tests might have been done to his partner. Being held by the enemy was never good due to the amount of damage they could inflict but with scientists... he shuddered. They were searching rooms, lots of empty rooms. Could it mean that they had finished their experiments and had disposed of their guinea pigs? No, he wouldn't think about that. Illya would be all right. He had to be.

He looked through the glass panel in the door of another room. There was a lump in a bed curled up under the covers. All he could see was a patch of blonde hair on the pillow. It could be Illya, but he got the feeling there was something not quite right about the lump. It was too small for a start. He unlocked the door and went inside, looking around to make sure there was no one else there, he reached down and pulled back the covers.

Not Illya.

It was a small blonde-haired child of perhaps about six or seven. A small boy dressed in dark blue pyjamas trembling on the bed. He sat down beside the child trying to be gentle yet at the same time needing information, if the boy possessed it, about the whereabouts of his friend. He turned the young boy over to look at his face and looked into a pair of sad blue eyes. The gaze was so similar to that of his friend that he was taken aback. The bruises around the boys' eyes spoke of some of the ill treatment he had received from his captors.

"Em hello there little boy, I'm Napoleon Solo and I'm looking for a friend of mine, Illya Kuryakin, you wouldn't know where they might be keeping him would you?" The boy didn't answer so Napoleon continued on, unaware if the boy was even able to understand him. "He's blonde, a little smaller than me, with blue eyes. Do you know what they've done with the other prisoners?" The boy shook his head, but Napoleon got the feeling the boy knew something but perhaps didn't feel like discussing it. "What's your name young man?" The boy stared at him with ice-blue eyes. "Can you speak?" This time he received a nod in the affirmative. "Then speak." The child's face took on a vaguely amused expression, but still didn't speak.

Just then one of the members of Solo's assault team burst in. He was a rather large and bulky man, who often give people the impression he was a thug.

"Report Agent Masters."

"Sir there's no signs of any of the scientists, they seem to have cleared out in a hurry. No signs of Kuryakin either, they've probably got him with them. Something interesting though, all the animals they've been working on are young. There are puppies and kittens and young from other species. What do you suppose they were working on sir?"

"I don't know, but this boy might. Take him to headquarters."

As Masters manhandled the boy to his feet, his pyjama top wrinkled up and Solo noticed a tapestry of scars on the boys' back.

"Wait," Napoleon said, as Masters was about to lead the boy away. "Let me see his back."

"What is it sir?" He asked as Napoleon had lifted the back of the boys' shirt and was examining the scars more closely.

"These scars look like they were caused by a strap. By the looks of them they've been healed for a while. We may be dealing with a case of abuse which has went on for years."

"Child abuse, you mean sir?"

"I er didn't say that exactly." Looking slightly uncomfortable, Napoleon continued, "remove the boys pants."

The boy wriggled out of Masters grip and backed away.

"What exactly do you hope to find sir? Apart from the obvious."

"If I'm right I should find a small knife scar on the boys' left thigh."

They both looked across at where the boy was standing pressed up against the wall in a defensive posture and approached him slowly.

"Em Mr Solo, listen I have no desire to be manhandled by your friend here, so..." the boy said uneasily, as he started pulling up his pyjama leg. "There you are," announced the proud voice with its Russian accent, as he revealed his left thigh, which was marked with a small scar.

"You were right Mr Solo."

"Yes I was, wasn't I?" He said, as he moved to the other side of the cell. "All right. Take the boy to Headquarters. Keep him under guard at all times. Don't underestimate him. When you get him there I want medical to thoroughly check him out. I want blood type, medical history, fingerprints, the lot and I want them to do a comparison with the medical records of Illya Kuryakin." Solo looked across at the boy, who was smiling slightly.

"Yes sir, and where will you be?"

"I'll be having an extra look around this building, though somehow I don't think we're going to find Illya here or with those scientists."

"Do you think he's dead sir?"

"No I don't think he's dead. I just get the feeling that the little Russian is hidden in plain view as it were." He glanced at the boys' reaction to his usage of the word 'little,' yes that had wiped the smile off his face.

On reaching headquarters Napoleon went straight to medical to see how the tests were progressing.

"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.

Chapter 2: Illya and April at the Mall

Illya Kuryakin stood inside the dressing room adjusting his shoulder-holster, which was far too big for him. He had made sure to take it from his locker, when April had said they were going shopping and concealed it along with his gun beneath his pyjamas. It felt heavy and bulky under his new suit, which Del Floria had just made for him. But as the senior agent Illya knew that it was up to him to be prepared for any ambush by THRUSH or anyone else who might be out to get them. He thought about telling Napoleon he was taking his weapon, but then thought better of it. Napoleon would assume that he wouldn't be leave his gun behind and he hadn't ordered him not to carry it, so it must be alright.

"Illya, are you alright?" April called rather impatiently from outside the dressing room.

"I'm fine April, I'm just coming out," he had one last try at pulling his gun out of the holster and then putting it away, just to make sure he could get at it easily, then walked out to join April. "So what do you think?"

"Oh you look very cute, Illya," then noticing his expression, she rephrased it, "I mean handsome, you look very handsome. Hold my hand Illya," she held out her left hand expectantly. He looked at it as though it were a snake which was going to bite him, then with a sigh he placed his little hand into hers. He realised that she was doing it for the sake of appearances but he didn't have to like it.

As they were moving towards the car Illya automatically broke his hold on April and went to the drivers' side of the car.

"Illya you're not driving, you can't reach the pedals and see over the steering wheel at the same time."

"Okay April, you drive and I'll ride shotgun," he spoke with a smile. Something told her that he had given in too easily. She wondered if she should ask him if he'd brought his gun with him, but thought better of it. Surely Napoleon had made sure he'd left his gun back in his locker, a six-year old Illya Kuryakin armed with a Walther didn't bare thinking about.

The mall was quite crowded when they got there. April decided to start looking for Illya's clothing first, rather than trying to replace her own clothing which was damaged on her and Mark's last assignment. After all his need of clothing did seem greater than hers.

Illya and April were in the communal changing rooms of the children's department. Unbeknownst to them they were being watched by a female Thrushie, who'd followed them in. She and her boyfriend (a fellow Thrushie) had just happened to be shopping in the mall when they'd spotted April Dancer with a child. They'd figured that the boy must be important for April Dancer to be guarding him. The two Thrushies were the kind of people that stuck out like a sore thumb. The man wore his sunglasses even in doors to hide a scar on his face, which lead people to give him the nickname scarface. The woman although quite pretty hid her good looks beneath, thick glasses and her hair was tightly held in a bun, whilst her legs were covered with fishnet stockings.

"Come on Illya, try on this underwear," she coaxed.

Illya gave the underwear, which April had chosen a disdainful look, he thought the teddy bears which were covering them were completely unnecessary. Of course he had seen the other choices available and even he had to admit they were the best of the bunch. He couldn't exactly keep wearing the same underwear each day, Napoleon, the fastidious person that he was, wouldn't let him. Besides, he thought, it's not as if anyone was going to see them.

"No, I'm not having you watching me while I strip. Turn around."

She did so with a heavy sigh. She wondered if it were Napoleon or Mark to have been turned into a child whether they'd be quite as embarrassed about stripping in front of her. Probably not, she decided.

"You're such a spoilsport Illya," she teased. When she received no answer she tried again, the Russian would often give people the silent treatment when he was upset, "Illya." She peeked over her shoulder expecting to be rebuffed by a very angry Russian, but Illya was gone.

The fishnet stockings had saw her chance when April turned around. Illya was bending down to untie his left shoe and didn't notice her until she had one hand across his mouth and the other around his waist. He tried to flip her over his shoulder, but his movements failed to have the desired effect and she lifted his struggling body quite easily. As he struggled he silently cursed his sense of dignity and modesty with April. Okay so he wasn't exactly modest, after all there was really little to see, which was entirely the problem. April with her back turned wouldn't notice he was gone, straight away.

Once they were outside the shop the fishnet stockings handed Illya over to scarface, who carried him away from the mall crowds to a more secluded area. Illya struggled with scarface, who dropped him after a particularly viscous bite. He landed on his feet, pulling out his weapon as he did so, the Thrushies were obviously unimpressed probably believing it was a toy. As they moved towards him, his hand squeezed the trigger. Illya wasn't exactly sure what happened, one minute he was on his feet and the next the force of the gun firing, knocked him on his butt. He shook his head, slightly dazed and suddenly remembered Newton's third law of motion. Briefly he thought about the equal and opposite force exerted on him when he fired and how he should have thought of that earlier. The force of the blast which had knocked him on his butt, had also thrown off his aim and he had missed both Thrushies. They approached him more cautiously realising that he was more dangerous than he looked.

He felt beneath his Micky Mouse watch remembering how he'd hated it when Napoleon had given it to him earlier that day and now he was thankful for it. He had a knockout capsule hidden underneath the watch face. As they came closer he held his breath, he smashed the capsule on the floor at their feet. They fell to the floor and he walked off as if nothing had happened.

"Napoleon it's not like I set out to lose him on purpose, it just sort of happened," April said to a very angry Napoleon who was on the other end of her communicator.

"Okay, I'm coming to the mall, to help find him…"

"Wait Napoleon, I think that announcement is about Illya… Be quiet a minute."

"Would April Dancer please pick up her son from Gino's ice-cream parlour…" said the woman on the loud speaker.

"Oh that'll be Illya alright, only he would manage to get lost near a place that sells food. You'd better hurry before he eats all the ice-cream. Oh and April?"

"Yes Napoleon?"

"You will make sure he doesn't leave your sight after this."

"Yes Napoleon even if I have to handcuff him to my wrist to do it."

When April finally got to security she found Illya, shovelling ice-cream in his mouth at the same time as he was telling security exactly what had happened with the Thrushies and how they should go and arrest them. They were nodding their heads clearly not believing one word he was saying.

When April finally managed to get Illya away from his ice-cream and security, she called in to headquarters to have someone pick up the Thrushies.

"I hope all that ice-cream you had isn't going to ruin your appetite?" At the indignant look Illya give her, she realised her mistake, "my goodness what am I saying?"

"You were saying you'd like to buy me lunch."

They were sitting down to eat lunch in a small café. They both looked at the menus, when a waitress came over.

"Are you ready to order yet?"

"I'll have the special," April replied with a smile.

"We have a children's special too, for your son."

"Oh he'll have that," April said before Illya could open his mouth to speak. She realised she'd most likely be paying for this little meal, and she didn't want to have to pay a fortune. Especially since Illya would probably be having seconds. She remembered with a smile, how he'd managed to con a load of ice-cream out of the security men.

When the meal came Illya looked at his with disdain, what was it that he found more degrading, he wondered, the smiling faces which had been cut into his potato slices or the fact that his meal seemed so much smaller than April's was? He thought about it for a moment. Yes it was definitely that his meal was too small. He'd have to teach them a lesson for their scrimpy potions. After he'd finished both his and April's meals he proceeded to do just that.

After they'd been urged to leave the café, they continued their shopping until Illya decided he wanted to attend to a call of nature and tried to go into the men's room, only to be stopped by April's hand on his arm.

"April what are you doing?"

"You're not supposed to leave my sight Illya."

"Then what do you expect me to do? Stay out here and water the potted plants?"

"No you'll have to use the ladies, and don't you dare think of causing a scene like the one you made back at the café. I don't think I've ever been so embarrassed and the things those people were saying about me not being able to control my own son. I'd have spanked you if it wasn't for the fact you'd probably put me on report."

The rest of their shopping trip continued without incident, April decided to drive back to headquarters to fill in her report on the incident. The Russian looked to April to be very weary and she realised it was probably due to the fact that he was smaller now that he'd walked twice as far as she had that day.

They saw Napoleon as they entered headquarters.

"How are you?"

"Fine."

"Then why are you limping?"

"It seems six year olds have problems firing guns due to Newton's third law of motion they tend to wind up on their butts. I'm going to need a smaller gun."

"Children aren't supposed to have guns."

"Children aren't supposed to have PhD's either."

"Are you hurt bad?"

"I just fell the wrong way, I'm not as young as I used to be," he said dryly. "The only thing that's really hurt is my pride."

"Oh so that's where you keep it?"

The Russian ignored him and walked away.

"April you're still alright with taking him for the night aren't you?"

"Oh sure Napoleon, we'll have a swell time."

"Em not too swell a time."

Illya limped into his own office with April in tow and surprised her by typing up the report on his own typewriter very quickly. She wondered for a moment why on earth he hadn't made her do it. When she worked with Napoleon Solo there was no question who would be writing the reports and she wondered whether it was because the Russian was so used to writing them. He'd stopped typing and was staring into empty space, his eyes slowly closing and April realised that he was going to sleep.

"Illya?" She called softly. The Russians eyes snapped open, "why don't you let me write it? You're going to fall asleep any second."

"If I let you write the report we'd never get home."

"Hey I can type."

"I'm almost finished anyway." He finished typing the report and promptly fell asleep in his chair. April realised that she was going to have to carry him. She picked him up in her arms resting his head against her chest.

She looked at the packages, which she'd dumped in one corner of the office. How on earth was she going to move one sleeping Russian and half a dozen large packages from UNCLE headquarters to her apartment?

It was then that Mr Waverly entered the room.

"Ah Ms Dancer, I see Mr Solo has you looking after young Kuryakin."

"Er yes sir, we were just leaving for my apartment."

"May I take him Ms Dancer, they're so adorable when they're that age, of course you don't tell them that."

April handed the sleeping Russian over to Mr Waverly and picked up the packages. April thought that Mr Waverly looked very much the Grandpa and it was hard to associate him with the same stern man who sent them on their missions. April wondered what on earth Illya would do if he woke up to see Mr Waverly carrying him?

Luckily she didn't have to find out they reached the changing rooms of Del Floria's and Mr Waverly rather reluctantly it seemed, handed him back, after April had once again dropped her packages.

She clutched the Russian securely as she phoned for a cab to pick her up outside of Del Floria's and after she'd put the phone down she remembered that she still had all those packages to carry. She realised that she probably should have asked the cab driver to come into Del Floria's to assist her.

She needn't have worried though, Mr Del Floria seeing her predicament, helped her carry the Russian outside. While she once again was stuck carrying packages. What was it about these men anyway? Couldn't they see that she could carry the boy perfectly fine and it was the packages she was having trouble with?

"I have a grandson his age," Mr Del Floria mentioned as he handed the Russian back to her once she and the packages were settled in the cab. April wondered if Del Floria realised that this was the same young man who entered Del Floria's on his way in to work each day. Somehow she didn't think so.

The sleeping Russian seemed oblivious to the commotion going on around him. April looked down at him, as he lay in her arms. He looked very cute when he was sleeping. Not that he didn't when he was awake, but at least like this she didn't have to put up with his crankiness.

When the reached their destination, the cab driver quickly got out to hold the door open for her, and kindly took the child whilst she got out. Though once again, the cab driver was reluctant to give up the child and she was delegated once more to baggage handler.

The cab driver returned the sleeping child to April's arms outside the door of her apartment. She adjusted the Russian's position on her shoulder until she could reach inside her purse to pay the man. After he was paid the man left and April was once again stuck with a sleeping child and packages, she unlocked the door and was pondering what to do when she sensed someone behind her.

"Can I give you a hand there April," said one of her neighbours, and she tightened her hold on her precious bundle.

The Russian didn't stir until she settled him on the couch in her living room, then his eyes flickered open sleepily.

"How'd I get here?"

"By relay team."

"What?"

"Never mind. Do you want something to eat?"

"I'm not hungry, just very tired. I usually sleep much better after I've had a couple of glasses of vodka, though."

"That may be true, but I don't have any vodka."

April stripped the sleepy Russian down and put him into his blue pyjamas', then carried him into the small guest bedroom. Illya protested throughout, but was too exhausted to fight her very much.

Chapter 3: Napoleon The Proud Father

Napoleon entered the flat early the next morning, using the spare key, which April had given him.

April had been sleeping on her couch, she woke up when Napoleon entered. The blouse she'd been wearing the night before was completely open. The Russian was sleeping on her lap, while the blonde mop slightly obscured her bosom from view. Napoleon didn't think he'd ever been so jealous in his life. Worst of all, Illya seemed to be oblivious to it. He was still sleeping and he was sucking his thumb. Napoleon knew that were there positions were reversed he'd be taking more advantage of the situation.

"Hello April."

"Napoleon don't tell me we're needed in the office today? Can't you let him sleep longer? He had a terrible night," she stroked the pyjama clad back gently.

"What happened?"

"Oh he had terrible nightmares. I put him to bed in the spare room and shortly afterwards, the terrible nightmares started. I ended up holding him all night."

"I'm afraid you're both needed in the office today."

"Illya come on it's time to wake up," the Russian snuggled deeper into her chest. Napoleon reached across and gave him a shake.

"Illya time to get up and go to work."

"Mr Waverly said 'children do not go to work'," said the bleary eyed Russian.

"That's fine Illya, if you don't want to go to work I'll enrol you in the local school."

The Russian looked slightly annoyed and shuffled out of April's lap. He did not however make any move to get washed and dressed but instead lay back on the couch.

April picked the Russian up and took him into the bathroom. "You and er Illya are getting pretty close," Napoleon said when April returned.

"Oh come on Napoleon, he's a six year old child."

"No he isn't April and you know it."

"Alright I know it. But Illya was only here because you wanted your date. He hasn't said anything, but I think he was really hurt by you not wanting him yesterday."

When April went into the bathroom later, to bring the Russian his clothes, she decided to break the good news to him.

"It worked."

"It did?"

"Yes I made him feel very guilty and he's promised that you'll be staying in his apartment tonight. My performance was excellent, as was yours. The expression on his face when he saw you burying into my bosom."

"Who says I was acting?" With a smile, "I like your apartment April, but his is the more spacious one and most importantly, it's always well stocked with food and vodka. So given the choice, even though you are more pleasing on the eye, I'd rather stay with him."

Illya was working in the lab. By the looks he was getting the scientists were highly suspicious of him. Not that they thought he was a Thrush agent or anything merely that they thought he was going to start running around any minute and start playing games with the lab equipment.

Illya was meeting Napoleon for lunch. Napoleon was already sitting at a table eating, when the Russian entered the cafeteria. The Russian was waiting patiently in the queue, thinking it odd that he hadn't been served by then, before he realised that they hadn't seen him, since he couldn't see over the counter. Napoleon heard the small disturbance and stopped it before it could escalate into a minor riot.

Napoleon was walking with the Russian back to their office and as usual Illya had his nose buried in a file, letting his feet guide him. All of a sudden Napoleon heard a small thump, followed by a startled cry. He looked down at the Russian who was now sitting on the floor of the corridor rubbing his forehead.

"Why don't you watch where you're going?"

"I don't have to, my feet know the way."

"Perhaps your feet don't know the way as well as they think they do."

"Perhaps my feet used to be a lot bigger and take wider strides."

Illya of course realised his mistake. In following his feet, who told him that it was time to turn left, he'd walked into the corridor wall. The turn he expected to be there wasn't because he needed to take more steps than he usually did in order to reach it.

Napoleon picked him up and deposited him on his shoulders.

"Hey, put me down."

"No."

"If you don't put me down this instant I'm going to pee on your head."

"You wouldn't?"

"Do you want to risk it?"

"Okay I'll put you down if you watch where you're going. You're getting more bruised than you normally do on a case," he said as he settled him back on his feet.

"I doubt that."

When they reached Napoleon's apartment, both were feeling quite tired. Napoleon took Illya's new clothing into the guest bedroom.

"I'm going to call Mark, see if he's found anything yet and then I'm going to take a shower."

Illya waited for Napoleon to go into the bedroom, then headed out to the kitchen to get himself a bottle of vodka from the fridge, which he brought back into the living room and started filling his glass.

When Napoleon returned after a very long shower, Illya was nowhere to be seen.

"Illya?" He called. When he received no answer, he crept into the kitchen convinced that the Russian would be raiding his cupboards and fridge, stealing his most expensive foods, the things he saved for seducing his women. He wouldn't mind so much, but Illya didn't even savour the food, but merely wolfed it down because it was there.

No Illya.

He was beginning to get worried and called out again, "Illya?" This time he heard a soft giggling coming from beneath his dinning room table.

He squeezed under the table, finding his missing Russian, "what are we doing?"

"Shh," the Russian told him drunkenly, "we're hiding."

"Who we hiding from?"

"Napoleon."

"Why are we hiding from him?"

"Because I've stolen his best vodka."

"Doesn't he let you drink his vodka?"

"Yes, he normally lets me drink the cheap stuff, he saves the good stuff for special occasions and his se sed seduct his dates."

"How much have you had, anyway?"

The Russian frowned and looked at his fingers. "This is my second glass," he announced finally.

"Really?" Napoleon said with surprise, then realised that the Russian was less than half his normal size and therefore it took less alcohol than usual to get him totally sloshed.

The Russian looked at him and then seemed to notice for the first time who he was talking to, "Napoleon? When did you get here? I haven't been stealing your vodka, you know."

"Of course not Illya, I suppose that's just water in your glass."

"Of course."

"And you usually get drunk on water, I suppose?"

"I am not drunk," his protest was rather unconvincing, considering the fact that he was slurring his words and swaying.

Napoleon dragged the Russian out from under his table, "I'm going to order some take out, if I get some food into you that should sober you up a bit." He was about to go to the telephone when he suddenly remembered that he shouldn't leave the Russian alone with the bottle of vodka. He swiftly grabbed the bottle from where the Russian had left it, under the table and put it on his top shelf. "Now the glass Illya, hand it over."

Illya looked down at the glass in his hand and how much vodka was left. He was unwilling to hand over a half full glass to Napoleon. He put the glass to his lips trying to finish the rest of it, before Napoleon could stop him. Unfortunately Napoleon had managed to deduce what he was planning and snatched the glass away from him before he'd had so much as a sip.

"Napoleon, give that back."

"No my drunk little friend, you've had far too much already." He went on, "look you just make yourself nice and comfy on the couch, and I'll go and order us some take out."

The food helped to sober the Russian a little, but not much. Napoleon found the odd times that Illya got himself sloshed somewhat amusing. He expected the Russian to have trouble with the chopsticks with him being so drunk but had surprised him by handling them better than Napoleon did. Of course, Napoleon thought to himself, I should have known that would be the case, nothing stands between the Russian and food. Even more surprising of course was after dinner, when they'd watched a bit of television, and Illya in an affectionate mood brought on by the drink, had curled up on his knee.

Later on, Napoleon decided that they would both need a shower. Considering the fact that Illya was too drunk to stand by himself, and Napoleon didn't want to go to all the trouble of running a bath for him, he decided that they'd better just shower together.

After Napoleon stripped them both down, and turned on the shower.

"Not very big are you?" Napoleon said teasingly, looking down at the Russian.

"I'm a child, what's your excuse?" Illya responded.

"I'll have you know that lots of women think that I'm very well endowed."

"Really? They can't have had much experience with men, then," Illya said dryly.

Napoleon pretended he was going to hit him.

After they were showered, Napoleon got them both dressed in their pyjamas and into his bed. He realised it was probably best, given how much alcohol the Russian had consumed and he wanted to keep an eye on him should any problems arise.

The Russian seemed to sleep peacefully enough and didn't choke during the night, which was his concern.

Illya awoke with a hangover.

"I er see you're awake. Take an aspirin, just the one though, that's the maximum for children."

Illya felt terrible and decided he needed to make someone pay for the way he was feeling. The question was, who should it be? Who was responsible for him still being a child, then he smiled slightly, as he remembered.

Mark Slate was just getting back to his apartment, when he heard the familiar beeping of his communicator. He sat down heavily on his couch. He was covered in mud, not to mention exhausted after overnight surveillance on an out of the way plant, which he believed to be the place where the scientists had set up shop. It hadn't panned out, it was another dead end.

"Slate here."

"Ah Mark, what have you found?"

"Er nothing, it turned out to be another dead end."

"I see and what are you doing now?"

"I'm sitting on my couch."

"I see, in other words you're doing nothing."

"Well I..." He was interrupted by a very angry Russian, who shouted at him and lectured him, until finally breaking off communications.

"One thing puzzles me," the Napoleon stated after a while the Russian looked up from his paperwork with a little shock. It'd been hours since Solo had spoken, "why you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well why not just use some bum on the streets? Why deliberately go after an UNCLE agent? Surely they would know they'd be repercussions?"

"That's assuming they knew I was an UNCLE agent. Everything's still a little fuzzy."

"Oh they knew all right. You wouldn't be easy to take."

"Well, not necessarily."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," a red blush spread across the blondes' features, "sometimes a lucky punch…"

"Oh," Napoleon realised what the Russian was trying to say, he was often embarrassed by his tendency to get knocked out, by blows to the head. "What was the last case you were working on?"

"I was going over Professor Handel's findings, he thought he'd discovered…"

"Never mind. Lab work." Napoleon often found the Russian's longwinded explanations tiresome, and he had no wish to be lectured on some obscure scientific fact that he'd been delving into. "Are you sure you don't remember anything more about those scientists? Something they might have did or might have said…"

"Napoleon I spent most of my time drugged… wait… might have said… there was something… they said something about small packages being easier to transport. Does that help?"

"It might. Illya, say you wanted to kidnap a bunch of scientists for some reason and take them to your hideaway, but wanted to make them easier to transport, by turning them into children…"

"You'd have to make sure that the reduction in the size of the brain wouldn't effect memory or brain activity." He puzzled for a moment, then the realisation hit him. "My Ph.D. they wanted to make sure it wasn't going to harm their scientists…"

"It would also make it easier if anyone saw them. Who's going to question a parent with an unruly child or believe said child when he says he's an eminent scientist…"

"…Or a Russian Spy…" Illya added.

"So now we know why."

"Assuming you're right, where do we start looking?"

"Well, I'll see if any of our agents have turned up anything."

"You may want to check to see if any eminent scientists have turned up missing. Though not in the field of human Biology, those fellows who had me were unquestionably brilliant."

"And what will you be doing while I'm working?"

"I'll go back to the lab. At least there I'm still fairly useful."

Napoleon was nonplussed, he expected that the Russian would be eager to find out the results of any investigations.

"Illya."

"Yes?"

"I er just spoke with Mark." Napoleon said looking slightly uncomfortable.

"Oh?"

"Yes he er says you put him on report."

"That's right."

"So why did you?"

"He's incompetent," he snapped, "he should have found something by now."

"You know that's not true. Look at us, how many times have we lost every battle against the enemy and then ultimately won the war?"

"I lose count."

"Well what if Mr Waverly put us on report every time that happened? We'd be constantly on report."

"You're right Napoleon. I was being unreasonable. It's so frustrating, I feel useless and I'm taking things out on my friends. I'll apologise to Mark and take him off report."

"I er already did."

"You did what?" Illya was incredulous.

"I er took Mark off report." Napoleon felt suddenly very uncomfortable again.

"You overrode my authority?" Illya couldn't believe that Napoleon had shown him up in front of a subordinate. True over this particular issue he was wrong, but Napoleon should have allowed him to correct the situation not interfered the way he had.

Before things could go any further Waverly called them to his office.

"You're probably wondering why I brought you all in here."

"Well actually sir, I had, wondered that is."

"Indeed Mr Solo, I'm going to brief you all on a mission."

"With all due respect sir, I'm not really sure that Illya should be included in this."

"Mr Solo, it is essential for your cover that you fit in to your surroundings. You must appear to be a family. You and Ms Dancer will pose as husband and wife and Master Kuryakin will pose as your son."

"Er sir couldn't Mark pretend to be his father, I mean it's quite obvious looking at me and April that we aren't Illya's parents. At least Mark has Blonde hair and Blue eyes…"

"It's out of the question Mr Solo. I'm not going to pull agents from other assignments just so you can carry on with your dalliances with the opposite sex. Besides do you really think that Master Kuryakin will listen to two agents who are both his junior?

After the meeting had ended, Napoleon targeted her with his most seductive smile. She realised that it was useless to tempt fate, so she turned and fled before he could talk her into anything. The smile disappeared from Napoleon's lips at the same time as an amused smile formed on Illya's.

"Isn't tonight your date with Bambi?"

"No, it's Candy."

"Oh Candy. It sounds like something you eat."

"Yes she's very sweet. Very edible."

"I'll take your word for it."

"It looks like you won't have to. You'll meet her tonight."

"What's this we? You won't be doing any driving and I'm tired. Besides, how many families move house in the middle of the night?"

"I suppose it would be a bit suspicious. Anyway, if you're so tired why are you having a date?"

"It'll help to relax me. Besides, it's hardly a date, we can't exactly go anywhere, not with you here anyway. It'll just be a nice relaxing evening at home…"

"…with your six year old son."

Napoleon looked at the smile that had suspiciously formed on Illya's lips at the comment. "Illya you'd better not do anything to spoil…"

"I think this is the ideal opportunity for me to practise acting like a child." He was going to enjoy tonight. He was going to ruin Napoleon's date. He was going to get his revenge for the incident with Mark and he certainly wasn't going to forget the fact that Napoleon was enjoying himself while he was suffering the indignities of being a child.

Napoleon was driving the "happy" family to their new home in the Suburbs. He kept glancing in the rear view mirror at the small blonde figure in the back, who was still sulking and hadn't spoken a word to him all morning.

April was looking behind at Illya. "Don't worry Napoleon, Illya's just amercing himself in his role as the moody child," she turned her attention to Napoleon again, "what happened between you guys last night anyway?"

Napoleon saw Illya stiffen in the back seat, "nothing happened between us."

"Then what was it?"

"An incident occurred between, Illya and my date," he saw Illya glare at him in the mirror, "he only has himself to blame."

"How was I supposed to know your date didn't like children?" He knew he'd been a nuisance all evening, he never would have acted the way he had if he'd known that Candy was the eldest of 9 children, and had been forced to look after them. Now in her adult life she couldn't stand children. Especially small blonde ones who tried their best to drive a wedge between her and the man she was dating. Napoleon should have warned him. Still she had no right to do what she did and Illya was determined to make Napoleon suffer for not standing up for him more.

"Hey I broke up with the woman, what more did you want?"

"You should have kicked her out when the incident occurred, not slept with her first."

"Hey I didn't know about it till she told me, you didn't say anything. It's actually rather funny you know."

"It is not. It hurt."

"Illya Kuryakin, you've been tortured by Thrush, a spanking is nothing in comparison."

"Illya, what exactly did you do?" asked a curious April.

"Well I…" he launched enthusiastically into a tale of one small boy against the vastness of Napoleon Solo's seduction vocabulary. April couldn't help herself, she burst out laughing at the thought of Napoleon trying to defend his romantic notions for the evening from a very sneaky Russian boy. Oh yes, Illya deserved the punishment which he received, but she couldn't imagine what kind of a person would be willing to lay a hand on the adorable little boy.

"Napoleon Solo, don't you dare stick me with all the cooking just because I'm pretending to be your wife."

"Well Mr Waverly did say we should amerce ourselves in our roles. Yours is that of housewife and mother. Now I'm going to prowl around for a bit, see if anything or anyone looks suspicious."

April fumed when Napoleon had left.

"Don't worry April, it isn't just you. He did the same thing with me on our last mission in Suburbia. I ended up doing all the cleaning and cooking even though we promised to share household tasks." Illya smiled when a thought occurred to him, "April."

"What?"

"I know how to make a soufflé."

April recalled the story of Illya's soufflé and she smiled too. They say revenge is a dish which is best served cold.

"April? Illya?" he called.

"I'm in the kitchen," a boyish voice sang out.

When Napoleon entered the Russian was standing on a stool, so he could reach the workbench. He was covered with chocolate.

"Er, what are you doing?"

"I'm helping April make chocolate pudding."

"Isn't some of it supposed to go into the bowl?"

The Russian ignored him.

"Where is April anyway?"

"She's upstairs putting clean covers on the beds."

"Maybe I should give her a hand."

"She already has one, two in fact." He said coldly. "Helping in domestic chores is hardly in your job description as father provider is it?"

"No, there's just something about beds which peaks my interests."

"Forgive me, I should have known."

"Yes you should."

"Have you found anything? Assuming of course that you were looking for suspicious activity and not prowling for the next likely prospect."

"What me? I'm a happily married man. No there was nobody acting out of the ordinary. Besides I have all the likely prospects I'll need for the moment," he said favouring April with a seductive smile as she walked through the door into the kitchen. "What's for dinner April?"

"Soufflé," Illya announced rather coldly, drawing Napoleon's attention back to him.

Napoleon shot him a bemused look and then winced, as he remembered the previous soufflé Illya had ruined. "Em who made it?" he asked with obvious concern.

"We both did," Illya and April said simultaneously.

Napoleon got the feeling he'd been ganged up on. He sighed, it was going to be a long mission, and getting longer by the minute.

April took a look at the Russian, she wiped off some of the chocolate which was covering the Russian's face and tasted it. "At last we know what little Russian boys are made of. It's chocolate. Illya you're a mess. You're going to have a shower before you even have any dinner." He made no objection, as April picked him up and carried him out of the kitchen and to the bathroom, he'd seen the look of jealousy on Napoleon's face.

He reached out with one of his hands to where April should be and felt a mop of hair. Strange, he thought to himself, he distinctly remembered April putting her hair into a plat before she got into bed. He flicked on the bedside lamp and realised that April had found her own teddy-bear to cuddle. He wondered how the Russian had managed to creep into the room and April's arms without waking him. He lay fast asleep with his head on April's chest and she had her arms wrapped protectively around him. Oh well, he thought as he switched out the light and wrapped his arms around April and the Russian babe, if you couldn't beat them, join them. He snuggled closer to enjoy the heat.

His last thought as he drifted off to sleep was that he might enjoy the assignment after all.

"Illya are you awake?"

"No," he said snuggling down further into the pillows.

"Then how come you're talking?"

"I'm talking in my sleep."

Napoleon dragged Illya out of bed come morning to get him ready to enrol in school. Illya didn't so much object to going to school but rather to leaving the nice warm bed.

As Napoleon was about to leave the Russian in school he couldn't resist a final parting dig at him.

"Come on Illya, give Daddy a nice big kiss."

"Daddy's going to get a mouthful of fist if he doesn't stop being annoying."

"Daddy says little boys' shouldn't make threats they can't carry out. There's no way you're going to reach my mouth."

"That's right, but I can reach something else which would hurt a lot more."

"Point taken." Napoleon stood a moment in silence and then continued, "Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

Illya broke into a laugh. "Napoleon they're just children," he said incredulously.

"I know that Illya, but so are you now."

"Don't worry Napoleon, if anything happens I still have my gun."

"Your gun?" He asked incredulously, hoping he was joking, but filled with the horror that he was probably serious.

"Napoleon do you take me for a complete idiot? I'm not bringing a gun loaded with bullets into the playground. No April made me switch to sleep darts this morning."

Napoleon looked at Illya's rumpled suit and started tugging on his lapels, straightening with his tie, and smoothing down the creases in his jacket. Illya gave him a withering look. Napoleon smiled and patted his cheek.

Napoleon waited until Illya was a few metres from before shouting across the playground, "Good bye little petal."

Illya turned and shot daggers at him.

They class chorused, "Hello Nicolas," Illya stood sullenly.

"Perhaps you'd like to tell the class a bit about yourself?"

"No."

"Oh come on Nicolas, don't be shy," she coaxed.

"I'm not shy. I'm a Russian spy and in the spy business you can't trust anyone."

"Okay Nicolas, I think we'll have you sitting beside, Andrea Tailor." Illya glanced at the empty seat beside the day-dreamy looking girl, who kept grinning at him and sighed. It was going to be one of those days.

"Now children I'd like you all to write a nice story, it can be about anything you want…"

"Now class I want you to come out to the front and read out your stories," the teacher stated, "Andrea you first."

"Can't I go first?" Illya asked, knowing that if he went second everyone would think it was he who had copied.

"No Nicolas, it's ladies first."

The girl strode to the front of the classroom, proudly clutching her story and began to read, "Once upon a time there was a Russian spy called Illya Kuryakin, who was partnered with an American agent. One day his incompetent fool of a partner was several days late in coming to his rescue and he got turned into a little blonde child and he was very cute…"

"Mm, I didn't write 'cute'," he remarked quietly to himself. Nobody saw the Russian reach for his apparent toy gun, nor did they notice the "psst" sound as the sleep dart imbedded itself in the girl. They did however notice the girl Andrea falling to the floor, and perhaps some noticed the mumbled, "I am not cute," coming from the new boy.

"Michael, quickly go and fetch the nurse, Andrea's fainted."

Illya found the distraction very useful, so that when it was time for him to read his story, he'd thought of another tale to tell.

"Once Upon a time there was a young boy named Nicholas and he lived with his Uncle Alexander. One day his Uncle sent him all the way to England to spend the holidays with his Aunt Edith and Uncle Emery. They had this wonderful dungeon and he would spend hours playing in it. His cousin Nappy came a couple of days later and they spent a couple of days pretending to be prisoners…"

"That was very good Nicolas, very original…" the teacher praised. One of the children put up their hand, "yes what is it?"

"I just wanted to ask Nick, why Nicolas in the story lets Nappy take the blame for what happened."

"Well, Nicolas was still a little upset that Nappy had dropped him in it with Uncle Alex when they were in Paris together."

"Hello Mark, have you found anything?"

"Not yet, but I think I'm going to enjoy this assignment. I'll have you running all over the place."

"Try it," he replied coldly.

"No I don't think I will." Mark sighed and then continued, "Illya I think we've been handed a lemon this time. The old man's clutching at straws, just because some scientist decided to up and disappear. There could be any number of reasons."

"Well I for one am hoping it's one particular reason. Em Mark you'd better watch yourself though. Some girls go for the older man, and you can't put bail on the expense account. I'll see you later."

"Sucking up to teacher already?"

"No."

"You're new here aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Well I should tell you that all the little boys here have to pay protection."

"No thank you."

"I wasn't asking you I'm telling you. Perhaps I should give you a warning."

"It's only fair to warn you I know judo and karate." The Russian sighed as the school bully apparently had no intention of heeding his warning and continued to come at him in an unfriendly manner. He took a defensive posture and prepared to do battle with the boy who was twice his size. Illya looked at the bully again, taking stock of his size in comparison to his own, then looked around and wondered if anyone would notice if he went for his gun.

"Do you have Dr Zhivago in the original Russian?"

"No I'm sorry, we don't have any Russian books. How about Goldilocks and the three bears?"

"Have you got anything on Quantum Mechanics?"

"No, but we've got the 'Freddy Frog Explains Science for Children' series of books."

"It's hardly the same."

"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."

He sneaked around trying to discover their purpose and then saw the guard on the head teachers' door. Napoleon had a meeting in there that morning, he remembered. It would be too much to hope that the meeting had concluded. He picked up the homing device planted in one of Napoleon's buttons on his boy-scout compass, it indicted that Napoleon was indeed inside the room. 'Yes,' he realised, 'it was too much to hope.' Now he had to decide how he, a six year old boy was going to rescue Napoleon all by himself. Against all those big thug-type men, then he thought about it some more. Why should he have all the fun, after all there was Mark and April to consider, they might feel left out if he didn't involve them.

"I've taken the football team to a match. Why do you ask?"

"Well you'd better get back here quickly, the school's been overrun with Thrush and Napoleon's been captured."

"What are you going to do?"

"What I can."

"Illya?" He asked concerned, but it was too late, the Russian had signed off. Mark realised he had better return post haste to the school. If he allowed something bad to happen to Illya, then Napoleon would make his future very bleak.

"April where are you?"

"In the shower," she said, dripping water on the floor, "why do you ask?"

"A little bird has Napoleon, get over here now."

"Illya I'm buck naked," she replied shocked.

"Well, get over here like that and you can be a distraction," he said with a smile.

"You mean create a distraction?" She corrected.

"Hey if you were buck naked you'd do both."

As Illya signed off he realised that Napoleon's fate was now up to him, and any innocents he could recruit along the way.

"Yes what about him?"

"He's a bad person and he and his pals are holding a friend of mine, so I wondered if you might create a distraction."

"But what could I do?"

"Throw a tantrum?"

"A what?"

"Like at the tennis game."

"But I can't just turn my anger on and off like that."

"All right, you're playing an opponent in tennis and that man wants the other boy to win, so he keeps calling all those close calls, out, even though they're on the line." Illya saw the flash of anger in the other boy's eyes, and put a hand on his shoulder, "if he looks like he's going to get dangerous you get as far away from here as possible."

"What about you?"

"Don't worry about me, nobody else does. Now go and get him, and make sure he can't see the door."

Outside the door, Napoleon heard a commotion. A young boy shouting at the thrush guarding the door and he could only hope that the man wasn't fool enough to overreact. He saw the door open and a blonde head peep in and knew what was happening, a rescue. He held his breath as the gas pellet was thrown on the floor and then leapt to his feet, to knock the Thrush leader and goon over, before escaping through the open door. As Napoleon rammed himself at the thrushie outside the door Illya dragged John forcefully away from the man, the boy just didn't seem to know when to quit.

Illya warned John to find a secure hiding place until all the bad guys had been dealt with. They meanwhile made a sharp exit towards the parking lot where some more thrush started coming towards them. Illya reached into Napoleon's pocket for his car keys.

"Illya I can't drive," he said indicating the handcuffs behind his back.

"So what else is new?"

"I meant with these handcuffs on…"

"My drivers licence is still valid you know."

"Illya you can't reach the pedals."

"I'm sure we'll work something out. Stop arguing and get in."

Using a pair of sticks to press down on the pedals, Illya drove straight out of the gate and then manoeuvred behind a wall to wait.

"What are we doing?" Napoleon asked concerned wondering why they were sitting behind the wall.

"We are waiting for the Thrush leader to come out of the school so we can follow him back to his base, using the homing device I planted on his car."

"Oh, smart Russian."

He wasn't going to mention that Bodie was also going to follow the device as well as a precaution, after all a spy had to have some secrets. They didn't have long to wait, before the game of follow my leader began.

"Illya you put that boys life in unnecessary danger, anything could have happened to him."

"What about all those bimbos you recruit to help you, they could get killed too."

"That's different, they know what to expect. He's just a child."

"What about me? I'm just a child too."

"That's different and you know it."

"Do I? I'm 108 cm and 17 kg…"

"Could we have that in American measurements please?"

"42 inches and 38 lbs.," Napoleon looked at him, he wasn't even going to ask about how on earth the Russian had come up with the conversion so quickly, the Russian continued talking, "anything could happen to me."

"I'm aware of that, but you're a volunteer…"

"I didn't volunteer for this. Isn't it against your American laws to make a child work under a certain age? I'm no different to that McEnroe boy, perhaps at less of an advantage. At least he knows his limitations, I don't."

"You're still Illya Kuryakin…"

"I know that. People expect me to act like a grown up and yet on some level I'm also supposed to act like a child. I try to act as usual, but every time I do I wind up on my butt."

"What are you trying to say Illya?"

"If you must get yourself captured could you at least do it when there's someone other than myself around to rescue you. Well at least until you find a way to change me back anyway."

"And if we can't change you back?"

"It will get very expensive for you putting me through college."

"What do you mean through college? Illya you have a Ph.D."

"I know but if I have to go through school again I may as well make good use of my time. There're possibly other areas I can do degrees in. Why I could be a genius."

"Illya you're good, but not that good."

"I am that good, by six year old standards anyway."

He was also feeling slightly worried. His partner was nicknamed Chunky, due to the fact that he was rather overweight and kept stuffing his face almost constantly with junk food. What worried him most was not the fact that if they had to give chase to any criminals that Sergeant Hampton was not going to keep up. No he was more worried about the enormous risk he was taking, being in the car with the man who could possibly suffer a heart attack at any moment, as he drove along eating anything which couldn't outrun him.

They were complete opposites, chalk and cheese. They had hated each other right from the start.

"Can't I drive for a bit?"

"Why?"

Doyle decided against telling him the real reason and settled for, "I'm bored. We're supposed to take the driving in turns aren't we?"

"Not in my car. I outrank you Doyle."

"Yes and you'll never let me forget it will you?"

"I didn't want this assignment, I got stuck with you cause my partner was in the hospital."

'Yes and who put him there,' he thought, but wasn't foolish enough to say, "Yes sir," he said in a disrespectful manner. He then continued in almost a whisper, "Have a puncture on me sir."

"If I have any flat tyres boy, you'll mend them."

"Yes, sir," he continued in the same manner, "anything you say sir."

Given that Illya was having difficulty maintaining control of the car it was a wonder that they lasted as long as they did. Napoleon had only just managed to get his handcuffed wrists in front of him when they heard it, the sound of sirens at their rear.

Hampton in a bid to not let his younger partner do anything interesting, decided to handle the situation himself.

Doyle leaned casually up against the police car. If it wasn't for the hideous checked jacket he was wearing, he could quite easily look like he was modelling fashion for a catalogue.

"Could you step out of the car please sir?" The cop stopped short when he realised he was speaking with a boy. He waved Doyle over and indicated he take the other side of the car.

"Look I can explain…" began Napoleon.

"Oh yes?" Doyle broke in, noticing the handcuffs on Napoleon's wrists.

Napoleon looked the policeman over. That couldn't be a perm could it?

"Could you gentlemen both step out of the car," Hampton repeated.

Bodie parked his car a distance behind the police vehicle with a muttered, "bloody coppers."

"Should I sir?"

"Go ahead."

Doyle turned the communicator onto the setting that Napoleon indicated, and out blasted Sonny and Cher singing their rendition of "I've got you babe" very loudly. Doyle jumped in surprise.

"Got any more tricks you'd like to share with us?"

"Wait, try one of the other channels." He winced as Doyle kept tuning into more radio channels, where the uncle channels were supposed to be, which were all apparently playing Sonny and Cher.

"Doesn't this bloody thing come with a volume control? Do you want me to smash it sir?" Doyle asked becoming increasingly short tempered with the annoying song.

"No just turn it off."

Illya smiled at the expression on Napoleon's face. Then he turned to where he knew Bodie would be, having been following them. He bowed at Bodie and Bodie bowed back. The exchange was not lost on Napoleon, who realised quite rightly that this predicament was all Illya's fault. Nor was it lost on Doyle the observant policeman that he was.

"Sir they seem to have an accomplice in the bushes, should I go after him?"

"No I will, you have no jurisdiction here."

"Of course sir."

"You think he'll catch him?" Illya asked once the policeman called Hampton was out of earshot.

"No," Napoleon replied, "Bodie's too quick for him."

"Anyone's too quick for him." Doyle added.

"Illya what did you do to my communicator?"

"I was testing a new device."

"I don't care if you were test firing a rocket to the moon. Switch it off."

"Will you believe us now and let us go?"

"I would, but I can't," he said frankly. "You see Hampton's quite right I have no jurisdiction here. If I were to let you go, he'd have me on a plane back to England so fast my head would spin."

"You could always say we overpowered you."

"DO YOU WANTA TRY IT MATE?" Doyle suddenly shouted at him.

Napoleon sighed, why was he slowly being surrounded by all these quick-tempered people, he wondered.

"If we don't get out of here soon, that homing device is going to be useless."

"Not really, Bodie will follow them." Illya replied.

"Bodie is being chased by a policeman."

"No he isn't," Illya pointed at the smiling Bodie, as he high-tailed it out of there, having apparently lost the policeman. Tires screeched as Bodie sped off. The wheels turned in Doyle's head and he reached a decision.

"This gives me the perfect opportunity, you two in the back seat." They climbed into the back and Doyle started up the engine.

"Aren't you worried about what your partner's going to say?"

"No my defence is a good one, want to hear it?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"Whilst guarding the two prisoners, Police Constable Doyle noticed another suspect, in whatever crime these persons were involved in. He decided to follow said suspect until he could effect his capture."

"What are you doing here, anyway Doyle?" Napoleon asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," said Napoleon in a upper class English accent, "you're a little far away from home, eh what?"

"Say that's very good. Can you do an English accent as well?" Napoleon pursed his lips as if to say, very funny and Doyle continued, "we had a case back in England involving a missing scientist. We followed a trail that led us to believe that the kidnappers, were holding him somewhere in this area."

"Why you? I mean no offence but you're awfully young to make a suitable liaison." Napoleon couldn't help smiling at the look Illya gave him at the mention of the word 'young'.

"Yes that seems to be one of the problems that Sergeant Hampton has with me. As for the reason, well, that's probably due to necessity. We had a tip off that someone might try to do off with this scientist and I was on guard duty. I managed to get a good look at the guy's face before I was bopped on the head from behind," he said with obvious embarrassment.

"Hey don't worry about it, it happens," Illya said and Napoleon gave him a strange look, "Couldn't they have just sent a composite?"

"I offered to draw one myself, but my boss wouldn't hear of it. It seems he's under the impression that the Americans will just put it on the backburner."

"I suppose that's why we're here," Illya said quietly to Napoleon.

"Mr Waverly you crafty old dog." Mr Waverly had obviously been reading Doyle's reports and hadn't bothered mentioning to them all the reasons why he had sent them to this particular place.

"Is that to be Mr Waverly's official title now?" Illya smirked at him.

"So why did you think I was here?" Doyle called over his shoulder conversely as he was following Bodie's car.

"I don't know, maybe a culture swap or something of that nature." Napoleon replied.

"Culture swap?" Doyle laughed. "I've seen very little culture here, unless you count the donut and coffee houses."

"I gather you're not overly thrilled with your current assignment?"

"S'fine, the only problem is my paycheque seems to be seeing more of the world than I am."

"What do you mean?"

"It's travelling in the post from England, however it seems to be finding it's way via the North Pole and I'm probably getting robbed on the exchange rate as well. I hope this doesn't affect my pension. How's the pay in your line of work?" Doyle asked with the air of someone looking for a new job, which paid better than his current one.

"Not good, Illya and I have to work very hard for a living and with very few rewards." Napoleon said with warning, "Our boss, Mr Waverly, is very cheap," he said and Illya nodded his head, vigorously agreeing with him.

Napoleon remained silent throughout the rest of the journey pondering Illya's strange behaviour. Why would Illya deliberately sabotage his communicator when they were working on an important mission? Also there was the question of how he'd carelessly given away Bodie's position to the police. Could it be that Illya was destined to become a child in mind as well as body? Could he still be trusted to do his job? He'd have to have a talk with him after this was over, he decided.

Napoleon had managed to persuade Doyle to release him from his handcuffs using his handcuff keys.

After briefly looking the place over, they decided to split forces. Doyle took the back way in. Shortly after his departure they'd noticed Bodie hiding in a bush.

"Hello Napoleon, Illya, you took your time getting here didn't you? I was beginning to think you were going to join the copper in some coffee and donuts."

"Listen Bodie, we haven't much time. You can either stand here and wait for reinforcements and tell them your jokes or you can take the side door into this place."

"I can hardly stand here and watch while you two get yourselves killed. I've got to give Mr Waverly his money's worth. Somehow I'm under the impression that if he's dissatisfied with my work I'll find it very difficult finding another job."

Bodie went in the side door, whilst they took the front way in.

"Illya! But if you're Illya… who's that?"

"Who's what Napoleon?" The blonde man asked, trying to appear as calm as any man could who had a gun pointed at his head.

"The child."

"You did you're job very well boy, in getting Solo here to us." The Thrush Henchman congratulated the child.

"What?" The boy looked very surprised. "Napoleon you have to…"

"You're saying he's not Illya? But the boy has the same scars as Illya, and he remembers everything he should know."

"Oh come now Mr Solo, scars can be faked, memories can be tampered with, children can be brainwashed." The Thrush henchman indicated to the boy, "Come on boy, there's no need to pretend or play innocent anymore, you know very well that your orders were to bring Solo here."

"Napoleon please believe me, you have to…"

"Shut up."

"Now Mr Solo, I'd like you to drop your gun or Mr Kuryakin will have an extra hole in his head." The goons forced the blonde man down onto his knees.

"Don't do it Napoleon he's going to kill me anyway." The blonde man warned.

"He won't, it's one of his own men." The boy replied, but was ignored.

"What reassurances do I have?" Napoleon asked.

"Why none of course. I like it that way. I could just kill him. But if you force me I'll do it now. Times up Mr Solo, Mr Kuryakin dies."

"Wait," Napoleon dropped the gun and kicked it away.

The boy rolled his eyes, and whispered, "Fool."

The next moment happened very quickly. The boy noticed someone creeping up behind Napoleon with a gun. Before the man could fire and shoot Napoleon in the back, the boy leapt in front of it. The force of the bullet slammed him to the floor.

Napoleon forgetting about the gun trained on him, went to the boy. The blood from the boy's chest was seeping through the bullet ripped shirt and pooling on the floor. The boy was taking shallow and quick breaths, not thinking of anything other than breathing and fighting off the darkness. Napoleon brushed the hair on the boys' forehead, and as he did so his hand rubbed against a patch of rough skin. Something they couldn't fake. It wasn't visible to the eye, only to the sense of touch and Napoleon was only aware of it, as he'd been there when it happened. There was no doubt now who the child was and it explained why he'd tried to save his life.

The blue eyes looked into Napoleon's and then looked down at his chest, then back up again as if trying to convey a message. What was it the Russian was trying to tell him?

The Thrush henchman began to gloat, "Oh Mr Solo, you are a very foolish man. Would the real Kuryakin stand up please…"

The next instant the gloating stopped. Illya felt Napoleon reach into his holster for his apparent toy gun, finally, he thought to himself. He closed his eyes as he heard the gunshots and tears of pain escaped from them, rolling down his cheeks. He heard Napoleon returning to his level. He opened his eyes and his vision started to blur. He saw April and Mark, Bodie, and Doyle. But mostly he saw Napoleon, and the worried expression on his face. He tried to offer a reassuring smile, that he was going to be okay, but he wasn't sure of that himself. As he began to sink down amid the dreams and darkness, he couldn't help but think how small his coffin was going to be.

He knew why he was in Oz too. They'd been reading that children's book at school and he suspected that his mind had selected this dream to keep him occupied whilst his body repaired itself. He hoped this was the reason anyway. He'd tried clicking his heels together three times and saying 'there's no place like home', earlier. But he suspected his body needed more healing time, as he hadn't woken up.

"The doctors are saying it's too soon to tell. If he were still an adult, he'd probably be okay. Children aren't supposed to experience that kind of trauma. He shouldn't have been there."

"Mr Solo, it was Mr Kuryakin's choice to join this organisation, and according to Mr Doyle's report it was also his choice to save you."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better Sir? Illya's lying possibly dying in that hospital bed because he was still thinking like his adult self. Using the same reflexes, not realising that the boy could be hurt more easily than the man."

"Mr Solo, I realise that you are distressed over what has happened to Mr Kuryakin. However, you still have your job to do and once you have composed yourself, I would like to hear your report. We can't stop our investigations merely because an agent is wounded, even if said agent is someone we feel an emotional attachment to."

"May I have your report Mr Kuryakin?"

"Well Sir I was told to follow the yellow brick road by a bunch of little people calling themselves collectively Munchkins…"

"No, no Mr Kuryakin," the Wizard Alexander interrupted impatiently, "not your report on this fantasy. I want you to report on what transpired in the real world."

"Yes sir."

"You mean this one sir?" He said as he walked back towards the Wizard after collecting the book.

"Well read the title, boy, what does it say?"

"It's called 'The Child of U.N.C.L.E. Affair' sir"

"Ah yes, that's the one I wanted. Can you read it out, I haven't got my reading glasses with me."

"Of course sir," he opened the book at the first page and began to read, "'Napoleon Solo was leading the assault team, looking for his partner…'" Illya broke off slightly puzzled, "It's about Napoleon sir."

"Not only that Mr Kuryakin, page 16 may be of particular interest to you."

Illya began to read, "'Illya looked warily at Candy. So this was his enemy for the night. He measured her assets and compared her to Napoleon's other conquests. Like the majority of the other women Napoleon had hooked up with, she was a bimbo. He wondered how long it would take her to remove her underwear (if she was wearing any at all). No, he decided, he couldn't turn Napoleon against this woman, the objective was to turn Candy against Napoleon. "Let Operation Sabotage Napoleon's Date begin," he said to himself.'

"This is about us sir, the case we're working on." He flipped to the last page, "the last page is blank sir."

"Hmm yes, Mr Kuryakin, it is rather distressing."

"You've read this?"

"Er yes, I rather enjoyed the part at the bottom of page 16."

"I didn't." Illya said icily.

"No I don't suppose you did. No as I was saying the last page is missing because the end of this particular affair hasn't happened yet."

"Who wrote this?"

"Nobody wrote it. The book doesn't exist in real terms, it is to put it simply a record of your memories of this affair. There's a whole wall full of books on Quantum Mechanics and various other subjects over there. It's very dry reading. Towards the far end of the room there are several volumes chronicling your early childhood. Some of the Uncle secretaries would give their eye-teeth for a glimpse at those. On the shelves where you obtained the book you're holding, there are a number of volumes containing your memories of your previous cases."

Illya pulled one of the early cases out, "The Vulcan Affair," he said reading the title, he flipped it over to reveal a blank page, "it's only one page long."

"Indeed Mr Kuryakin, I seem to recall that was one of the cases you didn't really participate in."

"Have you read all of the books in here sir?" He asked with obvious concern.

"Uh yes, do remind me to arrange you an interview to speak with one of our psychiatrists, your mind should really be studied. Some of your adventures have been somewhat unusual shall we say?"

"Oh? Which ones are those?"

"They're in the adult section, so you'll just have to wait until you're older."

"This is a really strange place."

"I can't be held responsible for whatever convoluted nonsense your mind dreams up. I have my own work to do, I can't spend my time trying to diagnose your problems. After you've finished reading that book I suggest you go home."

"But that's why I came here in the first place, I can't get home and the Good Witch of the North said you could send me."

"Oh very well, it's straightforward enough. You have to open your communicator and say 'there's no place like Uncle'."

Chapter 7: No Place Like Home

"This is where you're supposed to say, 'I had a strange dream, you were there and you were there and you were there…'"

'How about I just punch you in the nose,' he thought to himself. He was a little startled by Napoleon's apparent intuition though, he couldn't know, could he?

"Are you my father?" Illya asked with child-like innocence. Napoleon's face took on a worried expression, which quickly disappeared when he saw the gleam in Illya's eyes.

"Don't make jokes about this Illya. You had me worried, you almost died, you were careless…"

"Me? Was it me who handed over his gun to Thrush?"

His expression softened, "I thought you were being held hostage by Thrush, it isn't the first time they've created a double of one of us you know." His face hardened again, as he realised how much all this had hurt him, "Besides you were acting suspiciously sabotaging my communicator and then giving Bodie's position away."

"I only meant to delay you, and I never intended to give Bodie away."

"Illya? Why did you want to delay us?" He asked softly.

"I already told you as we were driving towards the Thrush base. I couldn't protect you properly so I thought using that policeman to delay us would give Mark and April time to arrive and give you adequate backup."

"It's interesting that you chose those words considering that you weren't too sure of me all that long ago."

"Yes well not without reason."

"I suppose I'm being too hard on you, I did fall for your double after all."

"Then I'm forgiven?" He asked hopefully.

"I'll think about it."

Just then the door opened and a nurse entered carrying a tray with a bowl of what looked like porridge, on it.

"It's time for Baby to have his feeding, Mr Solo," the Nurse said with obvious concern at the prospect of providing nourishment to the aforementioned baby.

Napoleon took the tray from her and said, "Don't worry about that, I'll make sure he eats something."

The Nurse looked at Napoleon with obvious relief and he wondered at her concern, the Illya Kuryakin he knew would eat anything that couldn't outrun him.

As the Nurse made her escape, Napoleon saw a spoonful of lumpy porridge fly at the Nurse as though it had been flicked. Napoleon turned back to Illya, who was putting down the now empty spoon.

"I'm not going to eat it, so you can just throw it away."

"Alright who are you and what have you done with the real Illya Kuryakin?"

"It's horrible. I think they're trying to poison me."

Napoleon tasted it and his face twisted into a grimace, "I've seen you eat worse," was all he said.

"Get me some real food and I'll eat it. Some vodka also, a big bottle."

"This is good for you Illya. It's nice and healthy and vodka is against hospital rules even if you were still an adult. Now open wide for the aeroplane," Napoleon said as he moved the spoon around as though he was trying to entice a baby to eat.

"No," Illya said stubbornly. Napoleon grabbed the boy's cheeks and prized his mouth open, after which he shoved the spoon inside.

"Now swallow," he said and Illya gave him a look that made it clear exactly what he wanted to do with the porridge in his mouth. Napoleon took hold of his nose and cut off his air until he swallowed the porridge. "There now don't you feel much better?" He asked with a grin.

"Napoleon, you…" Illya sputtered.

Finally Napoleon cracked, "Illya, what are you reading?"

"Strange tales of sex and violence."

"Excuse me?" Napoleon sputtered wondering at the implications of a child reading such material in full view of the nurses. He lifted the book to read the label, "nursery rhymes," he read, "you had me worried for a moment."

"These are supposed to be for children, but they don't seem suitable. Listen to this one…

'Goosey, goosey Gander, whither shall I wander,

Upstairs and downstairs and in my lady's chamber.

There I met an old man who wouldn't say his prayers,

I took him by the left leg and threw him down the stairs.'"

"So?" Napoleon asked feeling slightly puzzled, "what's wrong with that?"

"What was the old man doing in the lady's chamber? Nothing innocent I'm sure. The violence speaks for itself, the old man being thrown down a flight of stairs. It's hardly teaching children to have respect for their elders now is it?"

"Where did you get that book anyway?"

"April brought it, she got it from the children's library of all places."

Napoleon sighed, he was going to have to make sure that April was more careful with what reading material she brought Illya in future.

"Oh by the way Napoleon, I found this on my pillow this morning," he said as he leaned down to pick up the teddy bear, off the floor, which Napoleon had given to him and been cohabiting his bedroom since the mission began. "Did you put it here after I fell asleep?"

"Yes Mark told me all about it. He said when he visited you this morning you were fast asleep and hugging the teddy bear. He said he was never so pleased to have had his camera with him. You know that little miniature one the lab boys invented for special missions. He was rushing off to get the film developed when I saw him. He said something about the Uncle notice board as well. I've never seen the guy look so happy."

Napoleon had to duck to avoid the teddy bear as it was thrown at him.

"Now, now Illya is that any way to treat your little friend?"

Napoleon decided to make a hasty retreat before the Russian started throwing his books.

"What about me?"

"What about you?"

"I'm over twenty-one, you know and I'm not allowed to drink."

"Yeah but you don't look it. Besides hospital rules, you can't drink anyway."

"Is everybody obsessed with rules? Besides rules were made to be broken. Go on Bodie get me a drink."

"I can't even get myself a drink."

"What are you? A mercenary or a mouse?"

"I'm a mercenary who gets asked for ID. I have tried you know. I wouldn't be sitting here complaining to you if I had managed to get any booze. No I'd be right jollied up by now. If I was back in Africa…"

"For goodness sakes Bodie if you're that bothered about not getting any, just go home instead of complaining to me about it."

"Not getting any?" Bodie smirked, "Who says I wasn't getting any? Of course I'm getting some, just no booze." Bodie tutted, "A handsome bloke like me, not getting any? Ridiculous."

"And so very modest as well. You're worse than Napoleon."

"Oh be fair. Nobody's worse than him."

"I'm here to guard your back."

"I know that. But why did Mr Waverly pick you of all people for the task?"

"That's on a strictly need to know basis and you don't need to know."

"Why are you in America then?"

"Oh that's also classified."

"Why won't you tell me?"

"You're the one with all the secrets, you figure it out." Bodie grinned as an idea occurred to him, "I know, you tell me yours and I'll tell you mine."

"What?"

"An exchange of secrets. You tell me why you came to America and I'll tell you why I came."

"I see."

"Oh I dunno, I think it was a lot more convincing than the tale you just spun me." Bodie sighed, "Born liars that's us, we can't even tell someone the truth without embellishing."

"Speak for yourself."

"Oh so you're gonna try and tell me that any of that was the truth?"

"Well no. But I'm a spy, what's your excuse?"

"My excuse? I'm doing you a favour mate. If you heard half the things I've done, it'd be enough to make your hair stand on end. In your condition it might send you into a relapse. No you'll just have to wait until you're older."

"I'm older than you are."

"But not nearly so sweet tempered."

"Three months ago, Dr Skukurov and Dr Yeltzin in Russia. Two and a months ago, Dr Kiode in Japan. Two months ago Professor Edwards in England and various other scientists in the European sector, too numerous to list. All apparently taken by the same group."

"That's quite an assumption." Illya stated.

"Yes but it's all we have to go on."

"Why weren't we informed about the two Russian scientists?" April asked, she was puzzled that that bit of information had only just been relayed to them in the past few days.

She directed the question at Napoleon, but it was Illya who spoke, with a faint smile on his lips. "The USSR decided to keep their disappearance quiet until they could determine whether they had defected. It was only in the past few days that their agents have been able to determine that the scientists hadn't disappeared voluntarily."

"But those first disappearances took place before you even went missing, let alone had been turned into a child." April commented.

"Just because the scientists disappeared does not mean they had to be turned into children straightaway. They could have been kept secured away somewhere until the formula was ready." Napoleon relayed the facts once more. "Okay six weeks ago the first disappearances started here in the US. They've been gradually closing in on New York City…"

"Or more specifically on the school. There's been three disappearances among the staff alone." Illya added.

"Only two of which are eminent scientists. One of them is a Sports teacher." Napoleon replied.

"Yes I know, the one Mark replaced. But just because they all disappeared does not imply that they disappeared for the same reason." Illya stated.

"You're saying the Sports teacher may have just eloped with his fiancée?" Napoleon asked.

"You said that not me. There's no mention of this man having a fiancée. You American's do seem to devote too much time to romance."

"Well the Sports teacher is also American."

"Okay I agree it is possible that he eloped; but not very likely. I believe he disappeared because he may have seen or been in a position to see something he shouldn't. We'll probably find him in a ditch somewhere when this is all over."

"So what's the plan Napoleon?" April asked.

"The plan is simple, find out who's doing this, stop them and recover the missing scientists."

"Great plan Napoleon." April praised sarcastically.

"What do you think Illya?" Napoleon asked.

"I think you're going to need me."

"Maybe," he agreed, "but I won't send out an agent that's wounded."

"We are all agreed that the key to this is the school?" At the dark looks he restated, "then you're going to need me."

April and Napoleon left Illya's hospital room at the insistence by the nurse that he be allowed to rest. April decided to voice her various objections to Napoleon.

"Napoleon you can't do this."

Napoleon stopped walking and turned towards her. "If you wanted to hide a group of scientists who looked like children where would you hide them?"

"Okay a school is the obvious place." She allowed reluctantly. "But Illya's been hurt, you can't send him back yet."

"I don't want to, but what choice do we have? A child can blend in better than we could. If they get suspicious they're liable to move the whole project to other premises and we may never get Illya changed back."

"Isn't there an alternative?" April asked.

"Only one."

"What's that?"

"We hope Mark sees whatever it was the other Sports teacher saw."

"But if Mark sees whatever his predecessor saw…"

"He might disappear too. Yes I know, that's a chance we have to take."

"I never thought I'd be hoping for Mark to get hurt."

"You're not hoping for that April. You're hoping that he'll stumble onto something."

"Whenever Mark stumbles onto something he often gets hurt." She sighed, "My partner the punching bag."

Illya and Bodie were roaming the streets stalking their prey.

"I'm telling you the noise was coming from this direction." Illya pointed the way and carelessly stumbled into the trap. He froze at the sight of the huge dog, which was growling at him.

Bodie looked down at the vicious looking dog and physically manoeuvred Illya behind him. He backed slowly towards a tree they'd just passed, never taking his eyes off the dog for even a moment.

"Never did like dogs," he mumbled to himself, and then spoke quietly to Illya, "Illya can you grab that branch and climb the tree?"

"No it's too high and I'm still hurting too much to be performing such acrobatics."

"Okay, do you think you can climb on my back and hold on while I do the acrobatics?"

"Of course."

He climbed carefully onto Bodie's back and linked his arms around his shoulders.

"Alright, I'm gonna make my move, now hold on very tight."

Bodie leapt up and grabbed the branch at the same time the dog pounced. The dog's teeth snapped at thin air, as Bodie stung his legs up to grip the branch between them. Illya climbed off Bodie's back to sit on the branch and the man was able to manoeuvre himself more securely into the tree.

"Did I ever tell you about my mate Charlie Watson? He had this dog, a mean little Jack Russell, it was. Always doing things it shouldn't, often up against your leg. Well one day it was up to it's usual tricks and I do mean up. When Charlie Watson's mother tells me straight up to kick its balls. Well I did and then she tells me they're over there. The dog never did try it on with me again, kept giving me dirty looks, though."

"Too bad you didn't try that before."

"Yeah well kicking a Jack Russell's a lot different to kicking a Rottweiler. There's a joke about the difference between a Jack Russell and a Rottweiler having it away with your leg. The difference is that you let the Rottwhieller finish."

"So what do we do now?" Illya asked looking down at the huge dog who was waiting patiently for them to come down.

"We wait until he gets fed up and leaves."

"He looks like he's a very patient dog. What if he doesn't leave?" Illya asked impatiently.

"He'll go home when he's hungry." Bodie replied as he started feeling hungry himself.

"Yeah but what if he's just eaten? We could be here all night." Illya said, depressed at the thought of missing a meal.

"Illya? Does your gun still have those sleep darts in it?"

"Now why didn't I think of that?" The boy pulled out his gun and shot at the animal.

Nothing happened.

"Isn't he supposed to be unconscious right about now?" Bodie asked looking at Illya.

"That's my expectations as well. Maybe the dose isn't strong enough. I'll shoot him again."

This time the dog keeled over as expected.

"Do you suppose he's faking?" Illya asked.

"There's only one way to find out, we'll have to go down there, sunshine."

"What do you mean we? You can climb back up much easier if you're by yourself."

The dog was indeed asleep and not faking. Illya and Bodie resumed their search, looking once again for their prey.

"It's no good, it's probably long gone by now, with all the time we wasted."

"That's a very defeatist attitude sunshine, it could be just around the corner."

Sure enough they heard the musical chimes of their assailants' vehicle and managed to beat several kids for the front of the queue.

"Two chocolate, ice-creams please and…" Bodie said with a smile.

"Napoleon, what is it?"

"It'