Napoleon Solo walked along the sidewalk with a spring in his step. He'd decided to stop and have lunch at one of the local mom and pop eateries on the way to Headquarters.

After lunch, rather than taking another taxi, he hoofed the last few blocks even though it was cold.

There was nothing pressing at work that required his presence this morning; his first item on his afternoon agenda was the weekly briefing with Mr. Waverly. After that he had his own meeting with his Section II agents as being CEA, it was one of his duties. After that he was a free man for the night.

Illya was on assignment in Brussels at a special symposium being given by Research and Development. Kuryakin was part of the security detail, and given his association with R&D, he'd also benefit from the lectures and demonstrations.

He'd be back in time for the annual Christmas party held in the Commissary; it was no longer like trying to lead a stubborn mule to get the usually surly Russian to attend.

Thanks to Solo, Illya now embraced a number of Western holidays; his hard hearted attitude having been softened over time.

One thing had chiseled away at Illya's fortress of solitude, and that was the American's endless optimism. His having welcomed the Russian with open arms and unconditional friendship finally worked.

As Napoleon was looking forward to the party, and watching Illya mingle with everyone.

His thoughts about his friend faded as he continued walking and Napoleon let himself be drawn into the vibrance and excitement filling in the air. It was Christmas in the city; the neon lights seemed brighter as they were augmented with holiday garlands and baubles.

People were coming and going, smiling more than usual as they were carrying their precious packages and gifts. All seemed right with the world.

Yet Napoleon noticed something that others hurrying along the sidewalk seemed to ignore; there was an older man, looking very disheveled, huddled over a subway grate with his arms wrapped around his legs; his face buried against his knees. He was using the heat from below to keep warm.

In one of his hands was a paper coffee cup, the blue and white kind you always got for take out. Periodically he'd shake it to indicate there was change inside it.

No one paid him any mind, but Napoleon feeling sorry for the guy, reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of change and deposited it into the cup.

A head raised, revealing a reddened, weather-worn face with a white beard. His skin was creased with wrinkles, and smudged with dirt.

He had blue eyes that reminded Napoleon of Illya's.

"Thank you sir and God bless. Have a Merry Christmas."

Napoleon said nothing and simply nodded. He looked at his watch and suddenly realized his gawking at the Christmas decorations and people watching had made him late.

He couldn't be late for that briefing with Waverly, and hurried off. Solo made it just in time and after his agent's briefing, his day was done around five o'clock.

He had a date with Communications specialist named Shelby, and was looking forward to getting to know her better.

She was a pretty girl, with a long flipped up blonde hair that she always wore with a velvet headband. He suspected it was one of those mini fall wigs that were so popular with the ladies now days.

Whether or not that was true would be revealed, along with some other things after their date...at least that's what he hoped.

Yet Napoleon's thoughts drifted back to the bum on the street today as he stepped up to the sidewalk from Del Floria's.

The temperatures had fallen, making him shrug as he lifted his collar. The taxi he'd called was waiting just around the corner, as it wasn't wise to be picked up coming out of the tailor shop on a regular basis.

He climbed into the cab, and gave his address to the driver.

Settling in for the ride; Napoleon glanced out the window, doing more people watching and as the taxi moved slowly along in the holiday traffic; he spotted the old man still huddled on the grate and that saddened him.

The date with Shelby was lovely, though Napoleon realized she just wasn't his type. After dinner and a little dancing he saw her home. She invited him to her apartment for a nightcap but he declined; giving her a goodnight kiss and leaving it at that.

The next morning Napoleon readied himself to leave for headquarters, but before doing so, he made a phone call to his favorite Chinese restaurant. He retrieved a spare blanket from his closet, intending to give it to the homeless man.

His taxi dropped him off at the right street, but the old man was nowhere in sight, much to Solo's disappointment. He headed off to Del Floria's on foot and one block over he found the old man huddled again over another subway grate.

Napoleon approached; clearing his throat to get the fellow's attention.

"Hi there. I thought you could use this." He draped the yellow blanket over the man's shoulders.

"Thanks Mister. Real nice of you."

"I want you to take this too," Napoleon held out a shiny new penny between his fingers. You're to go to a restaurant called Chang's two blocks from here. Ask for Mr. Chang Lee and show him this penny, but don't give it away. You keep it. This coin will entitle you to a free meal there anytime you want. They'll be expecting you. Understand? "

"Yes sir, but I can't accept that sort of generosity. I've been down on my luck; sorry I'm such a mess. I lost my job, my home but I do have some pride left."

"What did you do before you lost your job?"

"I ran the mail department for a big company, but was laid off. I was the first to go because...well I'm older and they could hire younger fellas who'd work for less."

"Shame companies do that. They forget their employees are human beings and only think about the bottom line. Well, you take care and make sure you go to Chang's, please? You're not too proud to accept a Christmas gift are you?"

"No I guess not. Thanks again Mister...say, what's your name?"

"Solo, Napoleon Solo."

"My name is Chris Kringlemeister and thanks again."

"Chris, I think we'll be seeing each other again," Solo winked. He found the man's name an odd coincidence and that made him smile.

Illya returned home, attending the Christmas party at headquarters where he was introduced to the newest member of the UNCLE staff who was dressed as Santa Claus, and handing out gifts to everyone from his red velvet bag.

Chris Kringlemeister was now working in the mailroom at headquarters, having been fully vetted, with his employment recommended by Solo.

"You were playing Santa Claus I think," Illya said when he heard Chris' story.

"No not Santa Claus," Napoleon smiled," just doing the right thing tovarisch."