It had been months since Illya last visited the Bowery Mission and his friend Claire Shaw.
Assignments had been coming in rapid succession, some lasting weeks at a time. It seemed as though he barely had time to finish his written reports when he and Napoleon were whisked off yet again to some other part of the world.
Thanksgiving was fast approaching, which was an anniversary of sorts for the Russian. That was the first time he'd gone to the Bowery Mission to roll up his sleeves and help feed the less fortunate.
It was there he met Claire. She was an older woman, still handsome in her own right and not afraid of getting her hands dirty while knuckling down to handle whatever job that needed tackling. It was she who ran the place.
They became fast friends over the years, and though the Mission was also geared towards preaching the Christian word; Claire never tried to force it upon her Soviet friend.
Napoleon was spending the holiday with his family this year out on Long Island and though he'd invited his partner to come along; Illya declined.
Solo's father didn't like the Russian, having been a military man during the war. He was distrustful of Communists, like so many other Americans, and for that reason Illya didn't want there to be any tension at the Solo family home because of his presence.
Napoleon wasn't happy but in the end, he surrendered to his partner's wishes.
"I will be fine," Illya insisted. "I will go see Claire at the Mission.
He'd already refused numerous offers for Thanksgiving dinner given to him by the secretaries. They were all competing to see who could arrange spending the holiday with Russian, but none of them won.
The last thing Illya did before leaving for the day; he'd spent the morning in headquarters finishing up some paperwork, was to place a call to Claire, letting her know he was coming.
Needless to say, she was delighted, as was he. Illya enjoyed helping out as well as his conversations with Claire over their meal of turkey and everything else...eaten in her office after all of the less fortunate people had been fed.
She had a number of feline residents there who were always happy to see their friendly neighborhood Russian as well.
Kuryakin said his goodbyes to the agent on duty as he exited, waving to Del Floria and wishing him a happy holiday. It was in an unusually chipper mood for the usually somber Soviet.
He opened the door; hearing the familiar sound of the brass bell as it tinkled, and stepped outside. It was chilly, in the thirties but nothing that would stop him from walking home to change to take a quick shower and change his clothes to something a bit more casual.
There was still traffic to deal with thanks to the Macy's Thanksgiving parade and he wanted to avoid that by not taking a taxi.
Illya climbed the three steps leading up to the sidewalk in front of Del Floria's. He spotted a young boy standing alone, teetering on the curb. Too young to be by himself, he thought, and looked around for the mother.
In a split second Kuryakin dove for the child as it stepped out into the street, grabbing him and tossing him out of the way of an oncoming cab. Illya however, wasn't able to get out of the way in time, and the car hit him with a loud thud, sending him flying several feet into the air before he fell to the pavement.
"Oh my God!" A woman suddenly appeared; scooping up the child into her arms. She was gently moved aside as a team from Security, who'd witnessed the entire thing on their cameras, came out in a flash to rescue the downed agent.
Illya was conscious and moaned as the team gently lifted him up, helping him back inside.
"Is he going to be all right?" The woman asked."Where are you taking him?"
"Inside out of the cold until an ambulance gets here ma'am. Now why don't you head home, and thank your lucky stars he was here to save your little boy."
"Umm, yes. I will. Thank you," she called to Illya, though he didn't answer her. "Tell him I said thank you?"
"Will do ma'am," Tom Lopaka the head of Security answered.
In reception, a nurse and doctor from Medical were waiting with a gurney to take the injured Kuryakin upstairs to be evaluated.
He he ended up with broken leg and a sizeable lump on his head, but no concussion or internal injuries which was lucky, given a checkered cab was a pretty hefty vehicle.
A mild sedative and pain killers were administered, after much protest from Kuryakin but that as they say was that. He had no say in the matter as he was being kept for observation for the next 24-48 hours.
He dozed off until Nurse Walsifer came into the room.
"Illya?"
"Do not tell me," he said groggily."Time to give me a sleeping pill or lime jello?"
"No, you have a telephone call." She plugged it into the wall, setting the black phone on the bed table in front of him.
"Kuryakin here," he answered, though his voice didn't sound quite right.
"Illya it's Claire...where are you? I thought you were coming to the Mission?"
"Mmmm...was but I had little mishap." His accent was thicker than usual.
"Are you all right?"
"Broken leg, bump on head but nothing to worry about."
"Oh God no! Illya I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do for you?"
"No Claire I will be fine. Sorry I let you down," he mumbled.
"You could never do that sweetheart. Now you just let me know if you do need anything okay? I'm going to miss our Thanksgiving dinner together."
"As will I and I will be fine, I promise. Thank you for calling me, good bye."
"Bye Illya."
An hour later Nurse Walsifer woke him yet again."
"Oh come on Nancy, can you not let me just sleep?" He moaned.
"You have a visitor."
"Who...Napoleon is in Long Island."
"Hi there," Claire poked her head inside the door.
"What are you doing here?" He hiked himself up in bed.
"I called and got the okay to visit, if that's what you're worried about?"
"No I was not worried, just surprised to see you...is that turkey I smell?" He couldn't help but smile just a little.
"Yes, I brought 'our' dinner. Can't break a tradition you know," she laughed.
"Claire you should not have gone to such trouble. They do feed us here, though the edibility of the food is somewhat questionable."
"Will you just pipe down Illya."
She set out the the turkey she'd brought in a small aluminum tray, complete with stuffing, gravy, corn, sweet potatoes, baked potatoes, brussel sprouts and green beans. What would a Thanksgiving feast be without a couple of slices of pumpkin pie?
After one of the nurses delivered some hot tea, Claire raised her mug in a toast.
"Happy Thanksgiving!"
"Yes, happy Thanksgiving," Illya parrotted back.
They enjoyed their feast together, and Claire regaled him with stories of the many people he knew from the mission, as well as the cats.
"Everyone sends their wishes to you for a speedy recovery."
"Thank you. You have made an unexpectedly unpleasant day into a most delightful one. I will be forever grateful to you for this kindness."
"Hey, that's what Thanksgiving is all about...being grateful. As far as I'm concerned Illya, you're family, and family should be together on a holiday if they can, right?"
He smiled, nodding to her.
Nurse Walsifer came in, gave him another pill and helped clean up, leaving Claire to sit with Illya as his eyes grew heavy.
Finally when he was asleep she leaned over and gave him a loving peck on the cheek before leaving.
As she walked out the door, Illya opened one eye, watching her until she was gone. He crossed his arms in front of himself in satisfaction, this time going to sleep feeling quite good in spite of being stuck in Medical yet again.