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).This story was originally intended to be a MFU/ Pros crossover. If you want to read the full version click here.

First posted: 24th April 01, Completion date: 10th November 01

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."

Chapter 5: Illya meets a familiar face

"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."

"Open Channel D please."

"Ah Mr Kuryakin, so good of you to join us," said the male voice from behind him, "if you'll drop your communicator." Illya did so leaving the channel open to be traced.

The name of their group was MUNCHKIN and their operation was called Peter Pan. He could only hope that his rescuers would get there soon and he thought about all the bad things which were going to befall Napoleon, if he was late.

"Where are all the missing scientists kept then?" Napoleon asked the MUNCHKIN leader.

"You heard him," Slate added, pointing a gun at the leaders' head, "where are they?"

The scientist pointed to the cage behind him, which was filled with children.

"The antidote?"

"The antidote to the age reversal project. Operation Peter Pan. Don't play ignorant with me. There must be one."

"But we haven't tested it properly."

"You mean to say you turned all these scientists into children and don't even know if you can change them back?"

"That is correct. We've had success with certain animals but no humans as yet."

"I'll have to be the guinea pig then."

"Illya," April said, "what are you saying?"

"It's the only way, I have to do this."

"But you could die. He's the enemy. How can you possibly trust him?"

"I don't, I trust you, my friends."

"If you're willing to do this then it's not my responsibility if…"

"You're wrong." Solo said in a deadly calm tone, "if he dies, you die."

"But you heard him he's willing to take the risk… You can't threaten me like that."

"Oh it's not a threat, it's a promise. If you allow my friend to die, you will join him, and I promise your death will not be a pleasant one. You'll die slowly."

"Roll up your sleeve." The doctor said reluctantly. His hands were shaking slightly as they held the needle. Illya took it from him and handed it to Napoleon. "What are you doing?"

"The way your hands were shaking Doctor you'd never get the needle in me and I'd end up with dozens of puncture wounds as well. Napoleon can do it."

Napoleon pressed the needle into the Russian's arm.

Nothing happened for a moment and they thought perhaps the antidote didn't work, then things started to happen. Sweat was pouring off the boy's forehead and he crouched in a ball, holding his chest tightly. Screams started escaping from between the boy's mouth and the Doctor started looking rather worried.

"Will he be okay?"

"I don't know. We need to get him to the hospital as soon as possible."

More worrying than the boy's whimpers was the sudden silence as Illya passed out.

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 recovered. 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.

"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'."

Napoleon watched them working frantically and then they stopped.

One doctor turned to Napoleon and said, "I'm sorry. There was just nothing we could do."

Napoleon looked numbly at his friend, "Can I have some time alone with him?"

"Of course Mr Solo."

Napoleon walked over to the bed and touched the lifeless body of his friend.

Chapter 6: Mr Waverly's Invitation

"Yes, it's okay now," he said gently, "get some rest. I'll be here when you wake up again."

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. 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 Illya'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 what the nurses would say if they discovered the material. Not to mention that it was entirely out of character for Illya. 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.

Mr Waverly glanced around the room knowing it was probably useless to ask but…

"And now to get to other matters I'd like to propose that we all have dinner this evening."

"Well I'm er sorry er sir but Miss Fumes and I will have to er beg off…"

"Oh forgive me Mr Solo, I should have known. Well, just the five of us then…"

"Illya and I have plans too."

"Oh?" Napoleon said pausing in the doorway.

"Yes April has graciously offered to help me test my reflexes."

"Illya," he said coming further into the room. "You heard the doctor as well as I did. No strenuous activity for two weeks and that includes testing out reflexes."

Nobody noticed as Mr Slate and his date slipped quietly from the room.

Illya narrowed his eyes at Napoleon, trust him to have such a good memory where such things were concerned.

"And when were you going to tell me?" April demanded.

"You know doctors they tend to over react about things."

"I wouldn't call the possibility of a heart attack an over reaction. Never mind Illya," he said as he patted him on the cheek, "you and April can always play I nice game of scrabble."

Even if Napoleon was right about the situation he needn't act so smug about ruining his date with April. So as Napoleon turned to go off with his date Illya caught April's eye and gave her a brief smile.

"Oh Napoleon I forgot to mention, I took several messages for you. Several of your lady friends called," with a smile in his voice he continued, "there was Sandy and…" He broke off as Napoleon's date stormed out the room.

Napoleon moved towards Illya slowly and with menace.

"I'm terribly sorry Napoleon I must have had a slight relapse into my childish nature."

"Napoleon you leave Illya alone, you were worried about his heart a moment ago." April said with concern.

"I take it Mr Solo, that you are now available for dinner?" Mr Waverly asked.

"Er no sir, somebody has to chaperone these two love birds."

The End