"Revenge is an act of passion, vengeance of justice. Injuries are revenged, crimes avenged"~ Samuel Johnson.

"The Vengeance Is Mine Affair"

The temperatures soared, becoming so hot that you could literally fry an egg on the sidewalks of New York City, at least that's how the saying went and more than a few mothers were scolding their children for making a mess with eggs on the walk ways in front of their homes.

It has hit a record 103˚ and the parks were overflowing with people seeking a bit of air and respite from the scorching heat. Fire hydrants were gushing water into the steaming streets much to the delight of the children who had forced them open but also to the dismay of the fire department; if there were a fire then the water pressure was dangerously low for the hoses to reach to the floors of the many high-rises that made up the city. It was a disaster waiting to happen.

The power grid was being tested, with periodic brown outs and blackouts dotting all over the tri-state area.

The Kuryakins had finally invested in their first air conditioner, a small unit that served to cool the upstairs of the house installed in the window at the end of the hallway. Illya had closed off the extra rooms, and draped sheets across the top of the landing, preventing the cool air from moving downstairs as it would have overtaxed the machine.

In front of Demya's bedroom door was a small oscillating fan drawing the cool air in as well as one in his parents room. They had succumbed to the necessity of air conditioning as Elliott Kuryakin was nearly six months pregnant with their second child, and it had not been an easy pregnancy so far. She was miserable, experiencing constant back pain and the little one was always moving, keeping mama awake and making her irritable.

She stood in front of the full length mirror in the corner of their bedroom, looking at herself before slipping into her bedclothes. Elliott did not like what she saw, it was not the scars that she'd received in the service of U.N.C.L.E. those she ignored completely; it was the fact that she had put on so much weight, at least to her eyes it seem that way. She didn't recall that happening when she carried Demya nearly four years ago. She was never a vain person but did take pride in keeping herself in top condition.

Illya walked into the room after just having put their son to bed as Elliott took one more glance at herself .

He could see the look on her face and wondered what he was in for now, but took the chance and asked her what was troubling her. Illya wrapped his arms around her, gathering her in his arms; he loved the fact that she was so petite and compact, standing several inches shorter than his slight stature, not putting him at a disadvantage with her.

"I'm fat," she blurted out in disgust.

"What?"

"Ye heard me, I'm fat."

The vanity of the remark took Illya completely by surprise as that was not like his beloved who was possibly the least vain woman he had ever known, this leaving him quite unsure as to what to say. She had put on some weight, but to him she was beautiful.

"Annushka, you are six months pregnant? I suppose you have put on a few pounds, but is that not normal and besides it has made you somewhat voluptuous?" he said squeezing her breasts playfully. " I love you no matter how you look."

Wrong thing to say.

"Ye think I'm fat then do ye?"

"I did not say that."

"You said I put on a few extra pounds."

He swallowed, knowing he had said that in all innocence. "I meant it as a compliment."

"NO ye didn't, ye think I'm fat." she groaned, pulling free of his arms.

"Here we go," he thought. He'd let himself be drawn in to one of her mood swings and now he was beginning to feel annoyed he had let his guard down. Then he made his second mistake, by opening his mouth again.

"Well if you are worried about gaining more weight then you should stop with the late night snacks and ignore your cravings."

"Well if ye'd stop going out and getting that food for me then I wouldn't be snackin' would I?" She spun on her heels, going to the bed and climbing in with great drama and moaning because of her back pain.

The air conditioner at least made sleeping with a cranky pregnant Irish woman who was prone to fits of temper manageable for her husband, more so now than ever.

Not that he was any better, since lllya was notorious for disliking the heat; proving you could take the man out of Russia, but you couldn't take Russian out of the man. His Slavic blood craved the cooler temperatures and would have much preferred there being a blizzard rather than a heat wave, and was quick to point that out as well as the fact that American winters were nothing compared to those in the Soviet Union, passing the comment again.

"Aw Jay-sus Illya will ye give it a feckin' rest about the feckin' Russian winters already?" Elliott groaned at him as they now lounged in bed together. She lay beside him spread-eagle, dressed in soft cotton baby-doll pajamas, while Illya sat in his boxers as he preferred them in the hot weather, leaning a magazine on his bent knees. His glasses were perched on the end of his nose as he buried it into the reading material, absorbing information on the disposal of nuclear waste.

They would have normally readied themselves for bed, sleeping with nothing on; reserving bed clothes generally for the winter months.

Neither of them was shy about nudity, but in this sort of weather it was better to err on the side of caution with their door opened, leaving an invitation to their son to invade their space at any time. The child had seen his fathers scarring numerous times and no longer took notice of it, when it was explained to him how they happened; he took it in stride asking no further questions. But nudity was best kept private with an inquisitive boy like Demya.

Illya offered no response to his wife's last comment, this time reminding himself that what ever he said would probably get his head bitten off. He was trying to sidestep the emotional see-saw that this pregnancy was creating for Elliott, though tonight; he let himself get sucked in inadvertently, but he would not make that mistake again.

He heard the quick padding of little feet in the hallway as their son appeared, peeking his head around the door making sure it was safe to come in. Even he was aware of his mother's 'moods' as of late and at the young and tender age of nearly four; he had the good sense to look before he leaped rather than suffer the wrath of his mama.

His father had explained to him that it was nothing he had done, and that his mother was just not feeling well. That change he had noticed after he had been told him was going to be a big brother and Demya was a precocious enough child to put two and two together.

"Papa can I sleep with you and mama?"

"That's may I Demya"

"Yes papa, may I ?"

Illya cast a glance to his wife, not daring to presume it would be alright, given her unpredictable mood. She nodded her approval without saying a word.

"Da moy syn, but did you use the bathroom?"

'Yes papa."

"Horosho_good. I want no accidents in papa and mama's bed then?"

"No papa I won't wet the bed I promise."

Demya climbed in, positioning himself in between his mother and father, settling into the exact position as his father and propping a Little Golden Book on his knees, his current favorite, The March of the Wooden Soldiers.

Elliott looked over at her little blond boy, then at her husband; the two of them so much alike that it was uncanny. The only difference was that Demmy did not have his father's sometimes dour disposition and was a very happy boy since his childhood was different from his father's and mercifully free of the sufferings that Illya had experienced.

At that moment the other Kuryakin baby reminded her if it's presence, as it was on the move again and kicking up a storm.

"Here Demmy give me yer hand?" She placed it on her abdomen so he could feel the baby moving."

"Why can't my baby brother come out now? I think he wants to play with me?"

Illya laughed at that one. "Demachka, it is too soon, the baby is not big enough and besides it may not be a baby brother, it could be a baby sister, remember we discussed this already."

"I think it will be a baby brother." the boy smiled then paused as if he were thinking of something." How did my baby brother get inside mama's tummy?'

There it was, the inevitable question that both his parents had been anticipating. They were surprised that it took this long to be asked, and looked at each other deciding who would answer it. Illya smiled, exacting his revenge upon Elliott. "Go ahead mama, tell him."

"Thanks a lot...well Demmy ye see it's like this. Mama had a seed inside her, a baby seed and yer papa watered the seed and it started to grow. It's not a seed anymore, now it's a baby that's growing and when it's big enough then mama let's it out ta be born, just like ye were."

Demya tilted his head, his exact father's quizzical look on his face." Yes I understand. So when will my baby brother be big enough mama?"

"In three months time Demmy."

Demya suddenly asked another very unexpected question. "Can we name him Carmine Cocomera?"

"What?" his parents blurted out at the same time, Illya not taking the time to correct his son's grammar."

"Where did you come up with that name?" he laughed.

Elliott was giggling at this point, "It's his friend's name, they play together in the park."

"Carmine Cocomera?" Illya repeated, shaking his head." So if it is indeed a boy what would mama like to name it, or a girl's name for that matter? After all I decided Demya's name. Perhaps you should name our second child, it is only fair."

"Hmmm well the way it never stops moving; I should name it the 'road runner' meep meep! " she laughed imitating the cartoon while tickling Demya.

"I can't have a brother named the road runner!" he giggled.

"Neither can he be called Carmine Cocomera?" Elliott laughed." I supposed I'll have to think on the names. Now can we close the light please and try ta get some sleep; we have a long drive tomorrow?"

Illya turned off the bedroom light and settled down to sleep, as he lay there beginning to drift off quickly as he usually would, he felt Elliott shifting her position, moaning in her discomfort. After this continued for several minutes, he rose from the bed walking around to her, whispering.

"Lay on your side my poor détka_baby" getting her to move with her back now facing towards him. He proceeded to rub her from her shoulders downward, gently kneading her muscles until he felt them slowly relax. He pushed on pressure points that the doctor had told him about, as he dug his thumbs into her spine, then he massaged her legs as he continued to worked his way down until her reached her feet.

He could hear her breathing settle; knowing she had finally fallen asleep. He kissed her on the ankle then returned to his side of the bed, nodding off himself in just a few minutes.

At six o'clock the next morning it was already 92˚ and the mercury was rising. Illya had packed the car and they awaited the arrival of Napoleon and Bella. They would be off to an early start to avoid the mass of traffic seeking to escape the city for the weekend.

Elliott, Demya, Bella and Auntie Olga would be driving over to New Jersey down to the shore where a cottage by the sea had been rented for the week. Napoleon and Illya would join them, sailing Solo's boat The Independence down from Long Island once they finished their business at headquarters.

Napoleon pulled up in his new deep blue Pontiac GTO convertible, not exactly a family car but it suited Napoleon's boyish side. He parked it curbside in front of the Kuryakin's brownstone in the Washington Square section of Greenwich Village.

Illya opted for a dark forest green Ford Mustang, again not a typical family car, but the Kuryakins were not a typical family. Elliott was not practical in these matters as well, driving a powder blue Volkswagen Carmen Ghia.

Napoleon stepped lively around to the passenger door, helping his very pregnant wife Bella out of the car, though six months along in the pregnancy just like Elliott, she was carrying twins and was at this point quite huge. She wore a loose flowered dress and her long dark hair was pinned up on top her her head. Napoleon took her hand helping her to rise from her seat, giving her a peck on the cheek, the look of newlyweds still in their eyes as they'd been married only four months.

Like the Kuryakins, a honeymoon just didn't seem to be in the cards for them, but they planned to make up for that after the babies were born. Bella Solo seemed to be handling her pregnancy well, unlike the fiery Mrs. Kuryakin, she was more even-tempered and less prone to emotional outbursts.

"I wish you would take my car please?" Napoleon said to them. " Illya though having packed everything in the Mustang already, agreed with him.

"Yes is is a bigger car and offers more protection, the larger engine also has greater horse-power should you need to make a fast..."

"Illuysha, ne gruzís_don't take it so seriously! We're not going on assignment? We're going ta the beach fer God sakes?" Elliott laughed.

Olga Orloff climbed into the driver's seat, " Enough arguing in the heat, let's get going? The sooner we are out of the city, the happier we will all be." That being said, the two agents kissed their wives goodbye, Illya gave Demya a last minute lecture about not giving his mother a hard time, then a hug and a kiss.

"Papa will see you soon, then we will build sandcastles, swim and sail in Uncle Napoleon's boat. I heard we will see some fireworks too?"

"Fireworks? Really papa?"

"Da, ne ogryzát'sja, sledí za bazárum_yes, do not sass, behave and watch your tongue." he said touching his finger to the boy's nose, then gave his son a gentle swat on his bottom before putting him in the car. He mouthed the words "I love you" to Elliott.

He and Napoleon remained standing there on the sidewalk watching as the car pulled away, waiting until it was out of view; both men seemly uncomfortable.

Illya cast an uneasy glance at his partner.

"I know, don't say a word," Napoleon said, "don't jinx it."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're not thinking of the last vacation we took together at my family's cabin?"*

"No I was not, but thank you for now putting that thought in my head?" Illya clicked his tongue. " I was just concerned about two pregnant women, a child and an older lady behind the wheel on a long car drive in this awful heat, that is all."

"Right, Mr. greater horse-power should you need to make a fast getaway?"

"Alright, you win." he sighed trying to convince himself as he was ever the pessimist. " I am sure they will be fine. Coffee?" Illya then asked. He was unshaven, dressed in only a t-shirt and jeans and was obviously not ready to leave for headquarters.

Napoleon looked at his watch, seeing they had time to spare before the meeting with Waverly. " How about making that iced coffee?"

"That I think can be arranged." his partner smiled.

* ref. "The Cabin in The Woods Affair"