"I knew your father when he was very young," Larissa Kirillovna Romanova told Illya. It was well past dinnertime, and the sun had set long ago. Stars twinkled in the night sky as the UNCLE agent and the aging former Russian aristocrat sat on a balcony overlooking the city.
"He was my father's cousin's stable manager," Larissa continued, leaning back against the balcony rail and letting her hair fall behind her. "We all used to go horseback riding together when I'd visit my cousins. The girls were all older than me. Alexei and I were the same age. I always suspected that there was something wrong with him, but the rest of the family was very tight-lipped about it. It wasn't until many years later that I found out he'd suffered from hemophilia."
"I was only six years old when my father went away to war," Illya told his new acquaintance. "I never saw him again. I always wondered what he was like as a young man."
"He was bold, daring, perhaps a bit impulsive," said Larissa. "He was different from most of the others in the circles in which we moved. He had a great deal of sympathy for the peasants, and often seemed scornful of the excesses of the wealthy." Larissa moved to stand beside Illya, placing her hand on his arm. "I loved him."
Illya felt awkward, unsure of what to say.
"He was the first boy who ever kissed me," Larissa continued. "I was only thirteen when my family escaped to Finland during the October Revolution. I didn't get the chance to say good-bye to my Kolya. I've often wondered what might have happened if things had been different...of Kolya and I had only been a few years older...we might have married, even..."
She turned tear-filled eyes to Illya, who looked at her with deep sympathy.
"You remind me so much of him, Illya. The same hair, the same eyes, the same build, the same mannerisms..." She hesitated, glancing downward. "Tell me about your mother."
"She was a warm, loving woman," said Illya. "My fondest childhood memories are of her. She...didn't survive the war, either. Afterwards I went to live with my Uncle Ivan and my Aunt Katya and my cousins Boris and Sonya in Moscow."
"So you are the only surviving Kuryakin," Larissa said softly.
"Yes." He squinted, trying to imagine what she must have looked like thirty years earlier. He decided that she must have been a real beauty.
"And how did you come to live in America?"
"My partner, Napoleon Solo, and I belong to an organization that fights international crime. I was recently transferred to the headquarters here in New York City."
"Napoleon Solo." Larissa looked thoughtful. "An American."
"Yes. He has become my dearest friend."
"I see." Larissa smiled. "Life is certainly ironic sometimes, isn't it?"
"It is." Illya chuckled lightly. "The last person I expected to meet up with in New York is someone who knew my father as a young man."
Larissa took both his hands into her own and looked earnestly into his eyes. "I am so happy to have met you, Illya. For me, you're a reminder of someone whom I thought was lost to me forever."
"I could say the same about you." Illya put his arm around Larissa, and they walked back inside the house.