Napoleon supported Elliott in his arms as he walked her to the bench in the corridor. The woman who once warned him that she was"dangerous" was now an emotional basket case.

"Oh my God...what am I going to do without him?" she whispered, trembling has she buried her head into his chest.

"Ellie," he spoke softly, fighting back his own tears. We both know this could have happened any time...it's one of the risks." he said trying to convince himself that would some how ease the pain.

"Napoleon ye don't understand. I am... I'm pregnant" she whispered,"then sobbed again," He never knew...I never got ta tell him!"

"Oh God?" Napoleon moaned, holding her tight, unsure what to say to her.

Illya found himself standing alone on a dark road, there was a full moon in the sky night sky with mist swirling all about him. He had no idea where he was...he just knew he had to hide. They were coming for him, to punish him for his crimes. "kill kill kill" the voices echoed all around him.

"But it wasn't my fault." he whispered to the darkness." He did it to me. He forced me. "kill kill kill" the words repeated "kill kill kill."

YA na budu eto delat'_ I will not do it!" I refuse!" he cried out. "kill kill kill"

He looked down at the gun in his hand..." I will not!" he said, dropping it.

But you did it, the voice hissed at him...you killed them. "kill kill kill".

Illya cried out, covering his ears with his hands, falling to his knees.

"kill kill kill" You don't deserve to live. "kill kill kill" over whelmed with the guilt. Yes I did it to him. "kill kill kill" I tried to stop..."kill kill kill." I deserve to die..."kill kill kill." I strangled her. I deserve to die...he repeated it again. I deserve to die again" giving into the the pain of what he had done..."kill kill kill " Illya let himself yield to the voice, to the madness "kill kill kill" suffer "kill kill kill." He embraced the despair. "kill kill kill yourself. DIE!" the voice now ordered him and he had no choice but to comply.

He suddenly heard another voice as death was already enshrouding him.

"Oh God! NO! ILLYA!"

She called to him...her voice willing him back. She was not dead. He had to go back, he had to find her. "Annushka, lyubimoy_ his beloved," was alive?

Schneider rushed out into the corridor running to them, grinning from ear to ear.

"He-is-ALIVE!" he called," It has to be a miracle! His heart just started to beat!"

Max Schneider stood in front of them with his hand on his head in disbelief. "I have never had a patient come back like this... I don't know..maybe the epinephrine had a delayed affect.?" He tried to rationalize what had just happened.

Elliott blurted out a tear-filled laugh, suddenly blessing herself. "Holy Mary Mother of God, thank You." she whispered.

Solo wiped the tears from his eyes with his hand then stood up smiling.

"Napoleon...it was the damnedest thing, I went to switch off the heart monitor when all of a sudden there was a single blip. Then slowly there was another then another, slightly a-rythmic but a heartbeat! I checked the lead on the EKG...then I saw it. Normal sinus rhythm! He must have been slow to respond to the epinephrine," he repeated himself," I'm just not sure...right now but who cares? He's alive and stabilized that's all that counts?"

"Is he conscious?" Solo asked cautiously.

"Not yet," Max sighed," I guess I can go start that research now and see what I can come up with? You go ahead in and see him if you want, just keep it brief. I can't believe this really happened?" Max mumbled to himself practically giddy as he walked away, astonished by the Russian's seemingly miraculous recovery.

Nearly a month passed with no change in Kuryakin's condition. He responded to being fed liquids and baby foods so it was deemed unnecessary to put him on a feeding tube. But that was it; he reacted to nothing else. Elliott's heart was breaking as she helped to feed him. He was like a helpless...mindless child.

"What if he was trapped like this forever, alive but not alive?"

She refused succumb to that thought, holding on; keeping her hope that was her faith as it reached out it's hand to her during her moments of despair. Elliott prayed more than she had prayed in years...

Both she and Napoleon visited Illya often, though they were both back in the field again and constantly jockeying themselves to return to medical as soon as they arrived to headquarters from their assignments.

Elliott now three months along in the pregnancy could only see a little "baby bump" when looking at herself in the mirror as it was still not yet noticeable to anyone else...but signs of it would be visible soon enough as she was a small woman.

She was careful to cover herself as she began bringing things into Illya's hospital room in hopes they might stimulate his senses in some way. She tried scented oils; first peppermint, orange, then she tried lavender and he sneezed making her hopes rise, only to be dashed as it was a simple "autonomic allergic response" said Schneider and not a sign of any conscious behaviour.

She had a small music box that Illya had brought home as a gift for her one day. It played the melody to Debussy's "Clare de Lune," "moonlight " in French. He said it reminded him of her. It was a lovely gift and she would open it, playing the music when he was away on assignment and apparently he did the same when she was gone as well.

Elliott put the music box on his bed table, playing it every time she was there in hopes that it would draw his mind to thoughts of her and help guide him back from where ever his mind had taken him.

She would watch Illya carefully as the music played, hoping there would be some sign...his eyes were closed now but she could see there was something going on. Max called it rapid eye movement and a sign that he was in there somewhere, dreaming.

Schneider said the catalepsy was due to his emotional trauma...but what was it that was keeping Illya from waking? What was happening in that stubborn head of his? She just had to figure out a way how to get Illya Kuryakin to come to...

Illya felt terribly cold and alone, he was walking along the road, now brighter as if he were caught at that perfect moment just as dawn begins, when there was only hint of light. He saw shadows creeping around him, drifting in and out like an ethereal mist...muffled voices calling to him. He was afraid of them...it was the voices of the dead calling to him.

He heard her voice. Had she too had become part of his nightmare? Was she truly alive, or a spirit who had joined the other dead to haunt him? He could not get away from them, the voices...he was trapped in this lonely place, lost not able to find the way out...the way home. He did not want to hear the memory of her voice echoing around him, yet he craved it.

He heard her calling him, pleading for him not to leave; then he heard music...a music box and he felt drawn to it...so familiar. He knew if he could find it; he somehow knew he would be safe. No, she was not dead, he convinced himself. He finally called to her again and again, but she could not hear him...

He fell to his hands and knees on the road and cried, screamed her name, sobbing.

"Illya? Where are you my love? Come back to me?"

"ELLIOTT! he screamed then hearing the music again; he ran towards it but then it stopped." Did he deserve her after what he had done? Perhaps he only merited punishment..."was this his punishment? His personal hell? he thought in his confusion.

"Hi there tovarisch? How you doing in there? Say I had a great evning with this girl from the lab...imagine that, me dating the brainy type..."

"Napoleon! Help me please? I AM LOST...I am lost." Illya's voice faded.

I do not know what to do? He dropped down, curling himself into a ball, feeling afraid. He could not go to her...not after what he had done. He needed to pay for his crimes. Illya did something he had not done since he was a child...he spoke to God, asking for help.

She was feeling a little down as she sat on the bench outside Illya's room sipping a mug of tea that Nurse Walsh had given her, when Napoleon arrived.

Illya had few visitors. Mark and April came for a quick visit after they heard the news of the assassination attempt. April offering her strong words of encouragement.

"I don't care what anyone says. Illya would never have done what he did willingly...you remember that." April said, hugging her.

"Elliott luv,"smiled Mark,"It'll be alright, Illya...he'll come around you watch."

George Dennell stopped by, offering his condolences, a few people from his lab. She had even heard Waverly came down...he never came down to visit an agent. She realized how few friends her Russian truly had. Well at least she and Napoleon were there for him.

She had not seen much of him lately, but knew he had been into see his partner by the little tokens he had left, telling her he had been there...little notes of encouragement, boxes of chocolate and even flowers...ones that he knew Illya was not allergic to. Little touches of thoughtfulness that made her smile.

"Hi ya Ellie, how are you?" he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"Feelin' a bit blue right now, there's been no change at all...Napoleon" she voiced the concern that weighed heavily on her," What if he never wakes up? Her eyes filled with tears, but she fought them back. It was becoming harder to do though as her hormones were wreaking havoc on her emotions.

"Look Elliott, I've been thinking." he paused," If Illya doesn't come around...if they say he'll be like this permanently. You'll need someone to kind of help you both...you and the baby that is.

"This is going to sound strange..." Elliott could hear the nervousness in Napoleon's voice, "but would you want to get married...in name only that is. Just so the baby would have a legal father? Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Oh Napoleon, how chivalrous of ye... that's one of the kindest things I've ever heard, but my answer would have to be no darlin'...ye have a right to a life of yer own. And besides...yer going to be Uncle Napoleon aren't ye? So if the offer of help still stands, I'd prefer it from an Uncle?"

"UNCLE?" They both repeated, laughing at it.

"It was good to hear her laugh." he thought.

Napoleon put his arms around her, suddenly finding himself filled with the urge to kiss Elliott, really kiss her. He leaned in towards her... giving her a peck on the forehead instead. He was developing feelings for her and knew it was wrong. She was Illya's and he had no right to have any desire for her. Napoleon said a silent prayer for his friend's recovery and to give him strength to resist falling prey to his emotions.

The offer of marriage he made was a genuine one, complete with feelings and devotion attached, though he kept that from Elliott . He could never let her know...She was his friend...it had to stay that way and could be nothing more. She would be Illya's always the thought; resigning himself to that, vowing to take care of her for his friends sake."

Doctor Schneider and Dr. Dennison appeared around the corner, approaching the two agents.

"I have some good news my friends" Max announced, "My instincts were right about Smythe and the Mind Control drug...Illya's serotonin and dopamine levels were all out of kilter."

"He's been given a transfusion in an attempt to flush any toxins out of his system and I'm hoping that with some dietary treatments; we can get his readings back to within normal range. I'm going to introduce a drug developed in the last couple of years called benzodiazepine. It's a psychoactive drug used to enhance some of the neurotransmitters... technically a sedative, but it has been useful in treating cases of catalepsy."

"But a sedative will make him sleep Max won't it? How is that going to help him?" Elliott asked.

"It is also a muscle relaxant and it should help the rigidity and tension... maybe enough to wake him."

"When are you going to try it?"

Max looked at his watch..." Actually, he's getting his first dose as we speak."

"And how long before you expect to see some results?"Napoleon asked.

"If there's any improvement...it should happen within the next 24-48 hours."

"If?" Elliott repeated.

"Elliott, nothing is guaranteed. All we can do is hope right now?"

Dennison finally spoke, "We have to get him to wake up once he relaxes, given the circumstances of the catalepsy...the extreme emotional trauma. I suspect he hasn't been willing to do that."

"That doesn't make sense?" she said looking confused.

"Think about what he did Miss McGowan. Mr. Kuryakin tried to murder you and Mr. Waverly. I am sure he is experiencing guilt and remorse...maybe fear. You need to keep talking to him." Dennison advised," I think he can hear you...let him know that it's safe, that's it's alright for him to come back. Give him as much stimulation as possible."

Then Dennison gave them the bad news.

"If Mr. Kuryakin doesn't come around in another week, he will have to be transferred to a sanitarium in upstate New York, as the Medical wing here is not equipped for long term care."

Elliott and Napoleon glanced at each other in concern. UNCLE was going to write Illya off; sending him away in a kind of banishment. He was no longer of use to them...to Elliott it was like a death sentence. Illya would be left to exist in a vegetative state in some nursing home...she would be lucky enough to see him once in a while.""Up state New York?" she thought to herself," It might as well be the moon?"

Twenty four hours later there were a few first subtle movements as Illya began to respond to the sedative administered by Dr. Schneider.

"Did you see that?" Napoleon said." his hand moved."

They watched as Illya's hands began to slowly unclench. His body relaxed, looking as though he were merely asleep now. Then he suddenly became fitful, tossing and turning. His head shook back and forth as if he was denying something . He moaned constantly and then there were tears running down from his eyes as they remained closed.

The agents decided to double-team the Russian, bombarding him with stimuli. Time was against them now and there was a sense of urgency that overshadowed their efforts.

Elliott brought in his jazz albums, playing his favorite, Coltrane's "Violets for Your Flowers"...the sultry saxophone seemed to calm him but he still would not wake up.

Napoleon began to talk to him constantly, with a marathon sessions, recounting the details of their past missions, suddenly realizing that Illya's body movements increased every time there was the mention of Napoleon having been in danger. Solo had an idea... he put his communicator near his partner's head flicking a switch, making it sound, seeing Illya's head turn ever so slightly in response, listening to it.

"Channel D..."Napoleon said loudly, filling his voice with emotion. " Illya...I need you! I'm in trouble!" seeing his partner flinch but nothing more. It seemed as though Illya wanted to come to him but something was stopping him.

A communicator sounded," Illya, I need you. I'm in trouble." The Russian heard Solo's voice calling in the darkness. Napoleon needed him! He wandered, trying to find him...but he was still lost. He wanted to find him but felt afraid again, wanting to hide...to feel safe; guilty at his inability to help his partner and friend.

Elliott called out to Illya struggling to maintain courage born of was despair, feeling drained and exhausted as she leaned in, whispering softly into his ear, praying that he would listen to her. If this would not call him back then perhaps nothing would. Then it would be over and she would lose him forever?

"Illuysha, come back to me? YA tak lyublu tebya_I love you so much!"

"Ty mne nuzhen...my nuzhdaemsya v vas. Ill'ya y sobiraetes' byt ottsom. Vash rebnok nushdaeË™ sya v vas...pirhodite domay_ I need you...we need you. Illya yer are going ta be a father. Your child needs you...come home? Your child should not grow up without a father!"

Suddenly Illya's eyes began to move rapidly...he moaned again but this time he spoke; the words were unintelligible. Then his eyes fluttered open, looking around in confusion.

"What happened?" he rasped, barely able to speak.

"Napoleon! " Elliott called out to him sobbing with joy,"He's awake! Oh my God he's awake! Yer back!"she laughed.

Solo rushed to the bedside, hugging Elliott, then leaning forward to his partner smiling, saying the familiar words,"Welcome back tovarisch!"

Illya reached up with his hand, grabbing Napoleon's lapel, weakly pulling Solo down towards him."I am going to be a father?" he uttered the words softly . Then smiling slightly; he closed his eyes again.

Kuryakin spent another two weeks in medical working out in rehab rebuilding his diminished muscle strength. He worked hard to rehabilitate himself and was unusually calm, even cooperative and very determined.

His hearing into the attempted assassination of Alexander Waverly and Elliott Mc Gowan was over and he had been absolved of any wrong-doing, having recounted the entire torturous episode and methods of Owen Smythe's brainwashing and conditioning. Schneider and Dennison corroborated their findings along with Napoleon's theories. The agent conditioning and security controlling UNCLE's file 40 would be updated because of this incident.

The Russian's change in demeanor was a pleasant and unexpected change for the medical staff...but they still remained wary, after all a leopard couldn't change his spots, remembering Kuryakin's past behaviors. Illya finally insisted though to Dr. Schneider that he was ready to be released as the two of them were together in the rehab room.

"Illya," Schneider said," when you receive a medical degree then, and only then can you make such a determination. It wouldn't have anything to do perhaps with the fact that Elliott is due home tonight?

The job had to continue and Elliott had been sent on assignment with her new partner, Ari Ziv to the middle east. The two of them managed to successfully destroy an entire Thrush satrap in Syria, acquiring a book of new Thrush security codes.

Illya blushed then smiling at Max Schneider; he stepped up to a set of parallel bars, taking a moment to raise them up. "Let me show you Max...then you decide right now if I am fit enough for discharge or not. Fair?"

He hopped up to the bars, supporting himself effortlessly on his arms, then power-lifted himself to a handstand. He walked across the bars on his hands, then reversing his grip he rolled forward flipping over in a tucked dismount landing with perfect balance on his feet.

"Yes?" he asked, facing the doctor as he straightened his sweatshirt.

Schneider shook his head and laughed,"It would seem so!" He filed his medical report to Alexander Waverly, releasing the Russian to two weeks of in-house light duty before returning him to active status, as Illya had already passed his psyche exam with Dennison. The new psychiatrist passed as well...

Illya contacted Elliott via communicator, no longer concerned about who might be eaves dropping.

"Annushka are you feeling alright?"

"Illya, I'm fine! " she laughed," Just because I'm nearly four months pregnant doesn't mean I'm an invalid? Ye Russian's haven't cornered the market on being tough ye know?" she said playfully. "We Irish are a mighty race!"

"Well this Russian is only concerned about one Irishwoman and their child right now. I am out of rehab and on light duty for another week...then back in the field." he sighed in relief.

Elliott took note that he did not say the word "light duty" with his normal disdain. I'm looking forward to my homecoming?" she whispered..."Illya I have ta go, they're calling our flight. Mc Gowan out."

Illya smiled...his plans were falling right into place.

Elliott and Ari's flight arrived twenty minutes early and several hours later the two agents were finished with their debrief. Ari as she suspected had a hot date lined up and Elliott chuckled at that thought, seeing many traits similar to Napoleons in her partner. Napoleon was after all was good role model.

"Elliott, go home. I will write the reports and I promise they will be perfectly accurate!

"You have a date don't ye?"

"Not until later...it's Frannie from Security, she's still on duty. You go home, I know he's waiting for you...go!'

Elliott hesitated, but she wanted to see Illya so badly. This would be his first night together in since... she suddenly couldn't remember how long. She took Ari up on his offer, but threatened him jokingly, pointing a finger at him, "Those reports better be done correctly now...Thanks Ari." she said winking at him.

She left her partner heading up to her office, as it was peaceful there and no one would bother her as she need to file a few papers before leaving. She walked in as the door opened in silence, finding a single long stemmed red rose and a note on her desk. She smiled, already knowing who it was from. Lifting the rose, smelling it's wonderful fragrance; she read the note written in his neat handwriting that read simply, "My place 7pm. IK."

She looked at her watch...6:40 happy now she had taken Ari up on his offer. It was uncanny with the timing though and she wondered sometimes if her Russian was psychic. She smiled as she headed down to the the exit in Del Florias, carrying the rose in her hand.

Elliott was oblivious to the glances from her fellow agents...they were becoming less frequent now, though she and Illya were "an item" still, and it was becoming obvious that Elliott was pregnant, carrying Kuryakin's child...but the office gossips had moved on to new topics. She and Illya had quickly become old news.

It seemed like it had been ages since she had been with her Illuysha, though they had been parted longer in the upset and trauma that made her feel too like Illya as if she had woken from an endless nightmare. The last conversation she and Illya had before leaving for assignment was again about moving into his apartment. It no longer needed to be such a great secret and that was a great relief to her. That apartment would soon be home to a family of three.

Elliott climbed the three flights of stairs carefully, then knocked a little code on the door, suddenly remembering that Illya had told her that he had installed miniature security cameras in the hallway and could now see her.

The door opened, finding herself suddenly pulled inside...her instincts to resist ready to kick in, but then she saw that it was Illya. He drew her into his arms and kissed her passionately.

She pushed him away saying,"Ye are lucky I didn't knock ye one?"

He smiled then pulling her back, kissing her a second time then he bent down giving her belly a kiss as well."

"Welcome home."

Elliott suddenly realized the apartment was filled with several bouquets of roses and lilies and baby's breath...her favorites.

"Illuysha, they're beautiful. She looked about, seeing her Irish lace curtains were hung and her orchid from Jean-Paul sitting on a table by the window. She slipped her rose into one of the vases, then detected another scent, something delicious.

"Food?" she looked warily at him, You...cooked? Boshe moy_ my goodness, what did they do to you in rehab?" knowing that Illya was never one for cooking; he'd spent too many years alone eating take out or at the commissary.

"So my darlin' buachaill, what is it...smells delicious? What is it?"

"Never mind," he smiled," You sit and relax, put on some music. Dinner will be ready shortly." He walked to the kitchen then returned carrying a glass of mineral water with lime, handing it to her.

Elliott eye it warily."This is one thing I do not like about being pregnant...no liquor. Oh well," she sighed, taking a sip, making a little face.

Illya headed back into the kitchen. She could hear dishes rattling and the oven door opening and closing. She watched with amusement as he set the table, offering to to help, but he insisted that that she sit and relax.

"How very domestic of ye Mr. Kuryakin." she giggled.

He carried a platter and several serving dishes to the dining table.

"Dinner is served Mademoiselle." he announced, escorting her to the table and seating her.

"Ye made roast beef?"she smiled, surveying the feast...new potatoes with gravy, brussell sprouts and Yorkshire pudding. And trifle for desert.

"Kuryakin, ye have outdone yerself...ye realize this is going to spoil me? she teased.

"Sorry Annushka, do not get used to it. I have to compliment you; cooking is not that easy. I am sorry but I will have to be a chauvinist and leave the cooking to you if you do not mind? Besides you really do enjoy doing it do you not?"

"Well then, she laughed, popping a sprout into her mouth."then this makes this meal all the more delicious, since ye worked so hard at preparing it!"

The meal completed; they cleaned up the dishes together then cuddled on the couch. Illya put on the recording of " Violets for Your Fur," and as the sensuous music played they kissed.

Feeling warm and safe in Illya's arms, Elliott began to doze off.

"Time for bed, " he whispered.

Illya took her by the hands, helping her up from the sofa, then lead her to the bedroom, opening the light.

"Time for your other surprise." he smiled.

In the corner of the bedroom was a lovely white wicker crib and matching dressing table.

"Illuysha! It's beautiful...ye have been busy!" She remembered just mentioning to him once in passing long ago how much she favored white wicker, and was amazed that he remembered.

"I was worried I would not have it ready in time, between this and the cooking...I was a little stressed? This was a difficult mission." he said quite seriously.

She ran her hand along the railing of the crib, seeing a plush Teddy Bear sitting on the mattress and picked it up, hugging it to her face.

"That is a gift from...Uncle Napoleon, " he smiled.

Elliott flopped on her brass bed...Illya had managed to move everything from her apartment with Napoleon's help and was happy to have her familiar things around her. She was tired and ready to go to sleep, the jet lag and pregnancy sapping her of energy. Illya helped her undress and get under the covers, then stripped off his own clothes joining her under the blanket.

He sighed, wrapping his arm around her, caressing her belly with his hand; happy they were at last together.

It was just before dawn that Elliott woke, reaching out touching Illya, softly caressing his face. He was awake instantly, and leaned over kissing her. They made love in the early morning hours, Illya being most gentle and careful with her.

It took Illya a little time to become accustomed to really living with another human being, the noises, the movement and the presence of someone else in what was once his empty space. He was just so accustomed to living alone but was truly happy she was there with him.

Elliott respected his privacy, knowing at times her sometimes brooding Russian needed his space and silence.

At the end of the week, Alexander Waverly called the both of them to his conference room for a special meeting. They knew he had to be aware of Elliott's pregnancy as well as their living arrangements and were not were not quite sure of what to expect.

"Please come in...be seated,"offered Waverly, putting his pipe down in the crystal ashtray. "I'm sure you both understand why you are here today...given the recent development in your relationship.''

Anticipating what was to come, Illya spoke. "Sir, I am aware that UNCLE has certain rules and regulations which have been violated...I will understand if you expect me to resign my position in section two. Or if you wish me to transfer to R & D, I will do so willingly...that is if you still want me sir?"

"Don't be so dramatic young man! Of course you won't be resigning from section two, either of you. You are far too valuable assets as field agents to this organization...As far as the "rules"; they are merely guidelines and are not written in stone! "

"However, Miss Mc Gowan, given your condition; it will be your decision as to whether you wish to remain a section two agent. Granted, having a child in this business we are in does complicate matters somewhat. I do not see that it cannot be managed in some way however, but again when the time comes the choice is yours and yours alone." He said that looking directly at Kuryakin.

"Thank you sir for your consideration." she said, " I will keep that in mind."

"Very well then, that will be all then," Waverly said, returning his pipe to his mouth and his attention to a file on his conference table.

Illya and Elliott looking at each other in surprise left the office feeling much better than when they had entered.

Alexander Waverly tapped his pipe in the ashtray emptying the bowl. He took a deep breath, considering the ramifications of what he had just done. Illya Kuryakin was once a project, a test. Elliott Mc Gowan was one in essence as well. And now they would be a different type of project...a family within section two. Their actions as a couple would set new precedent within the organization, just they had both done as individuals. "The world was ever changing," he thought," and U.N.C.L.E. had to keep up with the times. This would be a most interesting experiment?" He packed the bowl of his pipe with "Old Dog number 22" then lit it, puffing away. His humidor was almost empty, and wondered who he could send for a refill.

Five months later on September 10th 1966, Illya Kuryakin stood in Elliott's room in Mount Sinai Hospital holding a tiny baby in his arms. He was speechless as he examined the baby...all fingers and toes were there as well as a head full of blond fluff for hair. He was in awe of how tiny the child was.

"Look at that, "Elliott giggled as the baby made a face, " that's your scowl if ever I saw it papa!"

"Papa"...that held so many meanings for him and his thoughts went to his own father, his mother and the rest of his family now gone so long ago, wishing they were here more than ever.

"So what do ye want ta name him?" Elliott smiled as Illya handed their son back to her with care. She had left it completely up to him to choose the baby's name, and still he had not made a decision.

"Demya...Demya Ilyich Kuryakin." he smiled, touching his hand to his son's head.

It was nearly Christmas and snowing heavily as Illya found himself walking past the Church of the Holy Family on East 47th Street. It was a fairly new building, very modern looking, lacking the character of the old Orthodox churches he had been accustomed to back in Russia. He could hear a choir singing as their voices echoed out to the street.

Some times the snow cheered him as he permitted some happy memories of his childhood in Kyiv to return to him. He was conflicted about Christmas though; as he never celebrated as an adult, even though over the years Napoleon had tried to always "get him in the spirit." He found the whole thing commercial and decadent, but gave into his partner just to make him happy.

But now Elliott and Dimitry were another matter. He had gone along with her wish to have their son christened in the Catholic church and now of course, she wanted to celebrate the holiday as a family. He pondered over it as well as another matter that weighed heavily on his mind.

Elliott had given him an early Christmas gift just before he had left on his last mission to Hungary with Napoleon...it would be a dangerous one and she knew it. She placed the medallion around his neck, a medal bearing the likeness of St. Andrew, the patron Saint of Russia. He felt badly now that he had protested, reminding her that he did not believe in such things but then relinquished; seeing the hurt in her eyes.

Illya reached up, pulling the medallion out from beneath his shirt, grasping it in his hand. He had been thinking for a while now about his life... the escapes, the triumphs and failures and of all the people that had helped him in one way or another to survive. He thought most of all of the his miraculous survival eight months ago. He had were some vague recollections while in still in the cataleptic state in medical... he remembered asking God for help, going against his self-proclaimed disbelief in the existence of a God that he made as a child.

He thought about Elliott, her smiling freckled face and her love for him that broke through his icy heart and found his soul. It was she who saved him...she and their son, or was it God who helped him after all? Soul...the word had purely religious connotations and yet he a supposed non-believer used it. He realized there had been many things that could be called miracles in his life...could God have intervened on behalf a godless Russian such as he?

"Adestes fideles, Laeti triumphantes; Venite, venite in Bethelehem..." Oh Come All Ye Faithful...the angelic voices of the choir called to him.

Impulsively he walked inside, seating himself in a pew at the back of the brightly lit church. It was very different from those churches he recalled from his childhood...no icons, no brightly colored babushkas crossing themselves, bowing as they prayed. His mind flooded with memories of his own grandmother, when she had first taught him as a young child to bless himself the Orthodox way and to say his prayers...for nearly twenty three years he had denied the existence God...yet why was he here now sitting in this church and why had he prayed in his moments of despair this time, and not as a child when he had lost his mother and brothers. He realized he never really had stopped believing in God...he had just angry with Him.

Illya suddenly became aware of a presence beside him; he automatically reached for the weapon in his shoulder holster.

"May I help you my son?"offered the man, Illya realizing it was a priest, removed his hand from his special.

"Thank you Father, no. I was just thinking...remembering."

Hearing Illya's accent the priest spoke to him in Russian. "Vy ne iz eto prihoda ty_ you are not from this parish are you? I'm Father Stash...short for Stashinski." the older man said offering his hand to Illya. "I'm sorry, I know most of my parishioners...so very few young people as yourself right now stop in this time of year. They're too busy with all the hype of the Christmas season. Are you sure there is nothing I can do for you my son?"

Illya hesitated. "Father I am not Catholic. But would you hear my confession?

"Of course my son." The priest sat in the pew beside Illya, placing his hand on the Russian's head as he bowed it, Illya blessed himself in the Orthodox way as babushka had taught him, then recited a Russian prayer asking for forgiveness, stumbling on a few words, then remembering it clearly.

"Gospodi,tvoih nebesnyh darov lishen not. Gospodi, izbav' menya ot vechnyh muk. Gospodi, prosti menya, Ya sogreshil_Oh Lord, Thy heavenly bounties deprive me not. O Lord, deliver me from my eternal torments. Oh Lord forgive me, I have sinned..."He finished the prayer then whispered to the priest still grasping the medal of St. Andrew.

"Father," said Illya Kuryakin," I have done things, many terrible things..."