I love New York on days like today. The air was so soft after a morning of showers. The sun was peeking out from behind the clouds like a shy child at a family reunion. It was just enough to take the chill out of the day and make me take my sweater off.

Walking through Central Park was a treat as there were still not that many people out and I very nearly had the entire place to myself.

My new job was going well. I'd been there long enough to be in the swing of the daily routine, but it was still new enough to be exciting. Dealing with mostly non-threatening illness was a big change of pace from UNCLE.

I missed my friends there. We tried to get together every now and again, but it just wasn't the same and it got harder and harder as time went on. Besides, I had new friends and new responsibilities that kept me from ever being bored for long.

I stopped and bought some peanuts to feed to the squirrels and found a bench that was mostly dry. The bag of peanuts, of course, was a ruse. Mostly I was just relaxing and letting the spring day feed my soul.

Then I saw something that made my back stiffen. Two men, one in a wheelchair, were moving slowly along. They say there is one moment in every day when all noise stops. It holds until you suddenly realize the silence, then everything starts back up again. That's how it felt.

Three years had passed since I'd seen him last. I'd heard he'd been grievously injured, but it was Illya pushing the wheelchair. He didn't look any older than the last time I'd glimpsed him from afar and the old familiar ache started in my heart.

You see I loved him… no, I love him still, so very much. Illya took my heart and never let me have it back, not that I ever asked. It was something I'd given him willingly.

For just a moment, I remembered what it was like to feel his breath on my skin, the sensation of us moving together in an age-old dance. It was easy to forget during the day, but at night, it still haunted my dreams and I gasped as all the pain, longing, and regret slammed into my heart.

It must have been loud because both men looked over at me. Instantly, twin smiles beamed back at me and I knew there was no escape now.

I stood as if in a dream. Some things never changed, except it was Napoleon in the wheelchair and Illya pushing. Usually it was the other way around.

"Nellie." Napoleon reached out a hand to me and I did my best to hide my dismay at its trembling. "How are you, my sweet?" His grasp was so weak.

"I'm wonderful, Napoleon. How are you?" A stupid question, given his obvious condition, but it slipped out and he smiled to show that no harm was done.

"Better every day. Right, James?"

"James?" I looked at Illya, fearful of what I might see haunting his blue eyes. Instead, all I saw was exasperation and just a hint of humor.

"He thinks it's amusing to call me that. It wasn't funny the first twenty times, Napoleon."

"Nonsense. Every good chauffeur is called James. It's a law, I think." Despite the weariness lining his face, there was a twinkle in Napoleon's eye. "Your problem is, Illya, that you have the soul of a pragmatist… providing you have any soul at all."

"Stalin had them all removed at birth. And, correction, you are my problem." Illya came around the chair to give me a hug. One whiff of the scent that was Illya's alone and I was twenty-three again, on my back, feet up in the air, and taking the Climax Express to Happy Town. One thing about Illya, he knew how to pleasure a woman. "How are you, Nellie?" He pulled back and that was when his stress became apparent, pinching the corners of his eyes and mouth. I reached up and brushed his hair back out of his eyes. He looked so very tired.

"I'm good. Busy, too busy like everyone else these days. And you?"

"Better than I was a few weeks ago." He resumed his position behind the wheelchair, one hand resting protectively on Napoleon's shoulder.

I glanced down at Napoleon and his blanket-covered knees and then squatted. "So what happened to you, Handsome? Did some lady take exception to one of your overtures?"

"No, THRUSH got me on the wrong end of an experimental drug. Thankfully, Illya was there to haul my… assets out." He reached back and patted Illya's hand. I pretend not to see how his finger lingered. It was as if even now he wasn't sure Illya was really there.

It had been this more than anything else that had driven me from UNCLE. It got to the point of not being able to take the image of our agents coming in on stretchers or in body bags, gratis THRUSH, and every time wondering if it would be Illya.

"Almost too late, but never mind that." Illya was saying. "The doctors say that he's going to be fine… eventually. The trick will be him getting well before he makes me crazy."

"Complain, complain, complain. You would think I don't pay him."

"You don't." Illya squeezed a thin shoulder and turned his attention back to me. "So how have you been keeping, Nellie? Are you still working at that clinic down on 4th?"

"I am… how did you know?" Then I laughed. Of course, UNCLE would keep tabs on me. "Sorry, forgot who I was dealing with."

"Are we interrupting something?" Napoleon was staring at the bag of peanuts I still clutched.

"No, just taking a breather. It was a little crazy this morning. I wanted to get out in this." I opened my arms to the blue sky and shimmering sun. "It's like a balm to my weary soul."

"You sound just like my doctor," Napoleon grumbled. "And my driver." He hooked a finger over his shoulder and Illya caught it and shook it.

"Watch where you're pointing that thing, Mister, unless you intend to use it." It was said with such love and playfulness that my heart threatened to stop beating. He used to talk to me like that.

"Watch." I repeated, grasping at a straw, and glanced at mine. There was still plenty of time, but I suddenly felt the need to flee. "Oh, gosh, I'm going to be late." I bent down to give Napoleon's cheek a kiss. It was rough with whiskers as if he'd missed spots shaving. Another thing that was not like Napoleon, but then I realized it was probably Illya doing it, tending to that along with everything else.

I straightened up and Illya caught me in a rough embrace. "Don't be a stranger, Nellie," he whispered in my ear.

My head swirled and I could feel myself slipping away from the Here and Now into a moment of long ago. A moment of total openness and sharing between us that ended in what my priest referred to as an accident.

It wasn't an accident, not really. I thought of it more as a miracle. Illya should never have been able to father a child, not with what THRUSH has exposed him to and yet he had.

The fact that I lost the baby in the third month was devastating, but it was exactly what I needed to have happen to give Illya the ultimate gift – his freedom. It was something he would have given up to take care of me and the baby. He would have sacrificed everything for us and I would have never asked him to do that.

I managed to pull away and mumble something I hope made sense and hurried the way I'd come. I didn't stop at the clinic, swearing I would call them from home the minute I caught my breath.

You see, I came so close, so near an edge I swore I'd never approach again. One embrace and all my promises and resolve very nearly flew out the window.

Never, never! I screamed to myself again and again while racing up the stairs as quickly as I could.

I opened the front door and Mom looked over at me in surprise.

"You're home early, sweetheart."

"Uh, huh." I moved past her down the hall and stopped at the open door. You see, I hadn't been completely honest with Illya and knew I could never be. He could never know the truth. You see, I had lost the baby, but what I didn't tell him was that I was carrying twins.

"Mama, play tea party wif Lizzie?" My little blue-eyed blonde miracle asked me.

I swept her up in my arms and knew, for his sake, as well as Napoleon's, he could never know. Illya gave me the most precious gift in the world and I thanked him by lying to him about it. May God help me stay strong and never tell him the truth.