"It is not the flesh and blood but the heart which makes up fathers and sons"~Johann Christoph Fredrich von Schiller
"The Sins of Our Fathers Affair""
"La lalalalalalalala la"
" Da da da da."
"La lalalalalalal la, brrrrrrr!"
"Da da da daaaaaa?"
"La la la laaaaaa...daaaaaa!"
"Kotoryi devochka papy, da ty daaaaaa ty_who is papa's little girl, you are you aaaare!"
Illya Kuryakin was sitting on his living room sofa holding his tiny infant daughter in his arms, cooing and smiling to her as only a father could do. Her legs and arms were in a constant state of motion, still being as active a baby as when her mother was carrying the child in her womb.
Her squirming and continuous babbling had her father grinning in delight, even though she had been born prematurely; she was ahead of the curve developmentally, which was a source of great pride to the Russian.
A moment later his son Demya appeared munching on a cookie; he flopped on the couch then squeezed himself beside his father, snuggling up close to him.
"Can I hold Lala?"
"May..."
"May I hold Lala?"
"Once you finish your cookie, yes you may." Illya nodded.
Demmy proceeded to shove the whole morsel in his mouth, then held out his arms to receive his little sister.
"Nyet. Chew it all first then swallow it. And please do it slowly, I do not want you to choke?"
"Mda mpapa." The boy tried answering with his mouth full.
His father chose not to correct him, but only shook his head with a smile. Since his son's harrowing kidnapping and rescue Illya found himself being less strict with the child, and more apt to let little things just slide. He realized now that some of it was just not that important, and was simply thankful that his boy was safe and alive.
Kuryakin was winding down the last day of family leave that Waverly had granted him. The search and rescue of Demya from the madman Owen Smythe, and the premature birth of Lourdes Mary and wounding of their mother needed adjustment time for both parents as well as their son.*
Demya seemed happy enough, but there were still signs that he had been traumatized by his ordeal. When first arriving back home from England he was very frightened and would not leave either his father or mother's side. He became very clingy, but to them it was completely understandable.
They were both adamant about the boy not being taking for psychiatric care, but Illya relinquished; consulting with Dr. Mansur of the psyche department in medical. He refused however, to bring the boy in to speak with him. So far, Mansur was pleased with Demya's progress under the watchful eyes of his parents; knowing that it would take time to resolve and assuage the child's fears.
They indulged the boy, letting him sleep in bed with them at first as he was terrified to be away from them for just a moment. Eventually they weaned him from sleeping with them, finally getting him back to his own bed, but then the frequent bed-wetting started. So then constant monitoring of his fluid intake began, and he was not permitted to drink anything after a certain time. That seemed to solve the problem.
From time to time there were nightmares, and he would scream out in the middle of the night for his father. He had developed a fear of the dark, so a night light was left on in his room, one that reflected stars on the ceiling making feel like he was outside and not confined to his room.
Little by little his confidence returned, especially when it came to watching out for his baby sister. Lala he called her instead of Lourdes Mary, at first because he just couldn't get her name out right, then the name just stuck with all of them.
This surprised his parents, as he was so gifted with foreign languages. They weren't sure if the baby picked it up from him, or he from her; but she constantly would babble La la la la along with her giggles and coos. And that became her pet name. Illya liked it as Lala was actually a Slavic word meaning tulip. So she was his little red tulip."
.
A few minutes later Demmy's task of eating his cookie was completed and his father placed the baby in his son's lap, carefully cradling her head, making sure she was in proper position before releasing Lala into her brother's arms.
"She is very pretty papa," he whispered as he rocked her gently.
"She is beautiful, just like both my children," Illya smiled, giving his son a kiss on the forehead.
"I will teach you a song to sing to your sister. It is a lullaby, a song to send a child to sleep. I sang it to you when you were this small."
"I was this tiny papa, really?"
"Da vy byli_yes you were, but now you are a big boy, and a big brother."
"Yes I am." Demya said proudly.
"Listen to the song carefully, so you can sing it to Lala as well."Illya whispered, noting that his daughter was already drifting off to sleep.
"Lyuli, Lyuli, Lyulenki
Gde ty, gde ty moya malen'kii golubyei
leta' nakrovat', machinayut vorkovat'
Lyuli, Lyli, Lyulenki
Oni prishli, vypolnyayushchie ryeisy vposteli
Sel golovnu, ohranyaya Vash son
Nachali vorkovat', nachal zasypat'
Lyuli, Lyuli, Lyulenki
_Lyuli, Lyuli, Lyulenki
Where are you where are you my little doves
fly on the bed, start to coo
Lyuli, Lyuli, Lyulenki
They came flying to the bed
Sat down by your head, guarding your sleep
Started to coo, begin to fall asleep
Lyuli, Lyuli, Lyulenki"
"Doves sitting on your bed, that's funny papa."
"Not real doves sitting there Demya, it is a metaphor."
"What's a metaphor papa?"
"It's a thing symbolic... representation, in this case doves are a symbol of peace."
"Oh so the song wishes peace to the baby."
"Da, horosho sdelali moego syna_ yes, well done my son." Illya smiled. "So do you remember it?"
"I think so papa"
"Go ahead then, sing it softly though."
Illya was very pleased as his son repeated the song back to him almost word for word, needing very little prompting.
"Well done Demyachka, and you sang it quite nicely. You have a good strong voice."
Elliott stood in the hallway grinning from ear to ear as she heard Illya teaching their son the song. He loved the boy very much, but there was something different between Illya and Lourdes Mary, there was adoration. Illya had mentioned how much the baby reminded him of his sister Katiya, and Elliott supposed that might have been what was making his connection so strong with Lourdes Mary.
He said there were things about her that were so much like his Katiya; it was as if she had come back to him though the birth of his daughter. That adoration did not mean that he loved Demmy any less, it was just a different sort of connection between father and daughter.
It became very quiet in the living room, but she hesitated going in just yet, not wanting to interrupt a private moment between a father and his babies.
Lourdes was fast asleep as Illya carefully took her from Demya, cradling her again in his own arm. He reached out putting his free arm around his son, holding him close as the boy rested his head against his father's chest. A few minutes later Demya was asleep. Illya laid his own head against the sofa, drifting off himself.
Elliott walked into the living room, seeing Illya holding his children, sound asleep with his head back and his mouth hanging open, making him snore ever so slightly.
She tiptoed away, returning with her Bier 35mm camera that she'd picked up on her last trip to West Germany, holding it carefully as depressing the shutter button as it would sometimes cause camera shake, and this was one photograph that she did not want blurred.
The click of the shutter woke Illya instantly. "Mmm, fell asleep," he whispered.
"I noticed, " she smiled, holding up the camera. "let me take her. It's time for bed anyway, we have a big day tomorrow you and I."
Elliott gently scooped up her daughter from her father's arm, while Illya maneuvered himself to pick up Demya. Together they took their children upstairs to their rooms. Then seizing the opportunity, they took off to their own bedroom, stripping off their clothes in a rush, diving into bed, making love. When they were finished Elliott lay snuggled in Illya's arms. "You realize how terribly spoiled we have been?" he whispered to her as he nibbled on her throat.
"I know. It's back to work tomorrow for ye, and I'll not be far behind ye."
"I am worried about Demya. I do not think he will be ready for us to leave," he sighed.
"Well there's no choice in it, ye have to go back. We both do. I think he'll be alright." She rolled over facing him; her fingers playing with the hair on his chest.
"Mmmm, well that is tomorrow," he said, leaning over, kissing her on the lips, then using his tongue to tease her. She pulled herself up, climbing on top of him as he helped balance her with his hands as she leaned on her knees. Then he ran his hands along her body, touching here everywhere he knew intimately would excite her. He pulled himself up to a sitting position, driving his tongue past her lips as he thrust up into her. They both climaxed with soft moans of pleasure, then collapsed back onto the bed, still wrapped in each others arms.
Elliott's head lifted suddenly, "Did ye hear that...Lala?"
"I will go, you stay." Illya climbed out of bed, pulling on his boxers before walking out to his daughter's bedroom next door.
He found Demya holding his sister rocking her gently.
"She woke up papa, I am trying to get her to go back to sleep."
"Demyachka, you are doing a very good job, but please make sure that papa or mama is with you when you pick up your sister. You must be very careful about supporting her head, and of course you must not drop her. We need to help you a bit longer with that I think, da? Promise me that?" He thought for a moment that his son was getting just a little too good at moving around the house without being heard.
Illya took Lourdes from her brother's arms, realizing she needed to be changed, carrying her over to the changing table.
"Demmy," his mother called from the door, noticing he was in his underwear. They had dressed in his pajamas when they had put him in his bed. "did ye have another accident?"
He lowered his head, this time beginning to cry, "I'm sorry, mama I didn't mean to. It just happened."
Elliott wrapped her arms around him giving him a hug, looking at Illya while he was changing the baby. "I know sweetheart, it was an accident, don't cry. Now come on, help mama change your sheets and we'll get ye another pair of jammies, alright?" She wrapped her arm around his little shoulders, walking him back to his room.
"My provynni robyty shchos' pro tse_we need to do something about this, it's getting worse instead of better." she spoke in Ukrainian, as Demmy did not understand that language yet.
"Ya pohovoryu z Mansruom_ I will speak to Mansur," he answered reluctantly.
The next morning was not a good one, Demya knew that his father was leaving to return to work. The boy went into a full blown screaming and crying tantrum.
"Noooo please papa, please don't go. I don't want you to go. I'm scared."
Elliott held Lourdes in her arms, the baby screaming at the top of her lungs as he mother rocked her, trying to shush her.
"Annushka, please a moment?"
She disappeared into the kitchen, giving Illya a moment alone with his son.
He knelt down, holding the boy by his shoulders. "Demyachka, vy ne dolzhny plakat'. Papa budet horosho, i vy besopasnosti_ You must not cry. Papa will be fine and you are safe."
"You will be here with Auntie Olga and besides, it is your job to watch over your sister. Just like papa and mama have a job to do, so do you."
"Da, papa," the boy sniffled as he calmed. Yes, he had to be brave and protect his little sister and he couldn't do that if he let himself cry and be frightened. "I will be brave papa, I promise."
"I know you will be."Illya smiled, "You are the bravest boy that I know. Now give your papa a hug and a kiss. I must go to work now with Uncle Napoleon."
Demya wrapped his arms around his father's neck, giving him a big kiss on the cheek. "I love you papa"
It was all Illya could do to keep from crying himself, as he pulled his son into a bear hug, kissing him on the top of his head several times "
"Promise me you will be a big boy when it is mama's turn to leave for work later?"
"Da papa."
Elliott walked back into the hallway with the baby now having been calmed. Illya reached out kissing his wife and daughter. He brushed his son's head with his hand as headed out the door, returning to reality; his life of covert intrigue, espionage and danger.
His home, his family were his refuge, yet they were his weakness too. Owen Smythe had proven that. In a way his family was a fantasy, more like a dream and escape from his life as a spy. A welcome relief but a precarious one, but now it was time to leave this safe haven. As much as it pained him to do that, especially with Demya's fears still being evident; he still had a job to do, an important one. Though he thought he would never admit it; he needed it just as he needed the love of his family.
There was always talk of agents being addicted to the thrill of the job, but with Illya it wasn't that. He wasn't sure exactly what it was, but knew he felt compelled, it was his job and he had to do it.
.
*ref "The Vengeance is Mine Affair"