Chapter 28

HOMEWARD BOUND

Napoleon was sitting sideways on an adjacent bed to Illya's whilst his sprained ankle was tightly bandaged by the efficient nurse on duty. Beside her, the doctor was speaking in a low voice. He gestured to Illya, sleeping uneasily in his bed.

"His fever has broken and his lungs are a lot clearer. He's having no trouble breathing now, so I am confident he will fully recover; but it will do him more harm than good to run before he can walk. I have given him a light sedative to encourage him to get his rest. He will keep trying to get out of bed."

Napoleon nodded.

"Sorry, but that's Illya. He hates hospitals I'm afraid."

"So do I, but they are a necessary evil, especially for section two agents. He behaves best when the little girl is here."

Napoleon nodded.

"She won't be here for very much longer."

The doctor nodded.

"I suspected so. Bad news for our patient?"

"Very. Please don't sedate him again for the time being though doc', we need him awake. We need to talk to him."

"Then I suggest you are here when he wakes up. Last time he threatened to leave medical and return to his quarters stark naked if we did not return his clothing to him. It was only the child entering the room at that moment that saved the situation."

Napoleon grinned. That was Illya all right. But what kind of a mood was he going to be in once they had had their discussion? One that he must know was inevitable, even if he was refusing to think about it.

"When will he wake up?"

"Give him about an hour and he should begin to stir."

"Okay, we'll be back then. It will be good if the room is empty by the way…no offense, but I am afraid the discussion will be confidential."

The doctor nodded.

"Very well. See you in an hour."

Napoleon returned to Mister Tarasov's office. Tarasov was there with Kossov and Katiya also. They were waiting for Solo's report.

"He's giving them trouble as usual." He told them. "The doctor has sedated him, but he'll be waking up in about an hour."

"How is Uncle Illya? Is he well again now?" The little voice of Katiya piped up hopefully. Solo smiled at her.

"Nearly. Now we have to have a serious talk with your uncle."

"Is it about me coming to live with him?"

Kossov and Solo met each other's gaze. It was Tarasov who answered her.

"It would be too dangerous for you to go and live with Uncle Illya at the moment young lady. Those bad people your dedushka was telling you about is after all three of you. They want your deda because he…uh…did something to them that they didn't like. They want you because they want to turn you bad like they are."

The girl looked indignant.

"I wouldn't go bad!"

"When people like this are trying to make you, it can sometimes be very hard to refuse. They also know how to hurt people. Have you seen all the scars on your uncle's body?"

She nodded, remembering.

"Is that what they would do to me if they got me?"

"It is what they would do to anyone who refuses to agree with them. We need to hide you and your dedushka safely so that no one knows where you are."

"But Uncle Illya could come too couldn't he? He could come and see us and ride with me?"

When she did not receive the immediate "Yes of course!" that she was expecting, her eyes filled with tears and her lower lip started to quiver.

"But I want Uncle Illya! I want my Papa Illya to be with me!"

The three men in the room felt their hearts go out to her, but the dangers were just too great. Kossov hunkered down and she walked into his arms and started to sob, softly and almost silently, but desperately and clearly unable to help herself. Kossov patted her back and stroked her hair. Solo looked at his watch.

"We need to go see Illya before he starts causing trouble for the doc again."

Down in the medical bay, they found, to their surprise, Illya was already awake and angry at having been sedated. When his partner walked into the room he opened his mouth to expostulate, but closed it again when he realized that Napoleon was not alone. Something clenched tightly in the pit of his stomach. A deputation like this, with Wilhelm Tarasov as well could only mean one thing. He glared around as they surrounded his bed.

"Well? What decision have you made?"

Illya could not deny the truth. THRUSH was ridiculously angry that one of their most powerful and influential generals had defected to UNCLE because of a child. That was a matter of common knowledge now. Had they known about the child, the child of their brightest brain, Mikhail Kuryakin no less, they would have done everything in their power to secure her. They would have had someone rear her with THRUSH ideals and trained her. An intelligent child could be trained to find ways of defeating UNCLE once and for all. Now they knew that Mikhail was dead for certain, there was no point going after his brother any longer, but Illya Kuryakin still had his uses. He would be easy to spot, looking so like his brother. Any THRUSH agent could be trained to spot and follow him until he led them to the wayward general Kossov and his promising granddaughter.

Illya argued and fought long and hard, but he knew in his heart of hearts that if they were to give way to him, he would still not be able to go through with it. He still couldn't safely either care for or even visit his niece. Illya Kuryakin visiting an old man and a child would be tantamount to suspending a gigantic neon sign over their heads.

He had searched hard for her, and he had found her and now he was going to lose her. It was as simple as that. What was this about getting him to agree? Agree to what? He had no choice. If he wanted them to stay alive and free, then he had to let them go. He had to let Katiya go. He finally nodded blindly, drawing his knees up close to his chest and just as he had the other day in Kossov's cellar, he wrapped his arms around his knees and buried his face in his arms. He sat there, taking no more part in anything going on around him.

"Illya my boy!" Kossov called in a gentle voice, but to no avail.

"Mister Kuryakin!" Tarasov tried a commanding tone, but Illya ignored them all. Napoleon gestured to his companions to leave the room quietly. Katiya watched the men go, and shook her head vigorously when dedushka tried to usher her out. She saw Uncle Illya's friend Napoleon smile at her encouragingly, and he closed the door, leaving her alone with her uncle.

She approached his bed. She did not really understand what was so bad with both deda and uncle looking after her together, but she now understood that there was some kind of danger involved that meant they must hide from bad people. It meant that having met papa's little brother Illya, she was going to lose him again.

He still had not moved position. She wondered if he was crying? She only ever sat in that position when she was really, really upset and didn't know what else to do. She crept up to him and stroked his arm gently.

"I love you Uncle Illya!" she told him in her sweet little voice. After a startled moment, Illya raised his head and saw the room was empty. Only Katiya remained beside him. She was smiling, but her eyes were full of tears. He swung his legs off the bed and raised her chin with his forefinger.

"I love you, my little Katiya, oh, so much. And I have to say goodbye to you."

He saw the teardrops fall from her eyes and roll down her cheeks, but she was still smiling up at him.

"Deda said you won't be able to come and see me. He said that if you did the bad people would follow you and find us."

Illya nodded. He had so much he would have loved to tell the little girl, but how could she possibly take it? She was still so young.

"THRUSH…I mean the bad people you have to hide from, they will forget about you in the end. They like little girls your age because they think they can still make you like they are. As you get older, they know it would be much harder so they'll forget about you."

"They won't ever forget about deda will they?"

Illya shook his head.

"No they never will. But Katiya…you have to know this and always, always, always remember it. I love you up to the sky. I always will. Dedushka will take good care of you, but if anything ever happens to him, you can tell whoever is looking after you that you have an uncle. I will always come and get you if you need me. You promise me you will remember that and never, ever forget?"

"I promise."

"You know they are going to want to change your name, don't you?"

"They will?"

Illya smiled.

"Of course! Makes it much harder to find you if they give you a different name, different hairstyle…"

"But I like my name!"

"Ooh, I like it too, but we can always choose another that you like nearly as much."

Katiya stared at him, her eyes twinkling.

"Uncle Illya, are you being naughty? If I have to hide to stay safe, and you aren't allowed to visit, then you can't know my name can you? If you knew my name, you could find me, and then we would be found by the bad people!"

At his nod, she stared at him, as though the truth was just now dawning on her.

"It means I have to hide from you, too doesn't it? I might not see you again, ever, ever!"

Illya gulped visibly, something impassable stuck in his throat, feeling like his heart was being ripped out of his body. Suddenly he was kneeling down on the floor beside the bed, holding the little girl tightly to him, fighting for control of his emotions. Katiya had no such inhibitions. She clung to him, weeping desperately, her tears wetting his pyjamas. Finally, he rested his cheek on the top of her head, wetting her hair with his tears.

April Dancer remembered the girl on duty in reception and nodded politely. Although she spoke little Russian, everyone here spoke English, fortunately. The girl remembered her and smiled.

"Miss Dancer from the New York office. Good to see you again. If you are looking for Mister Tarasov and Mister Solo, they are down in medical with Mister Kuryakin."

April accepted her badge with a smile and a nod, and headed down to medical. She met Napoleon just as she was stepping out of the lift. She raised her eyebrows at his bandaged leg and crutches.

"For a dead man, Napoleon, you don't look bad at all."

To say Napoleon was surprised was an understatement.

"April! What are you doing back here?"

"Got bored in New York. I thought I'd come and see if I can make myself useful here."

Napoleon smiled.

"Are you good with kids?"

"Why?"

Napoleon walked her down the corridor a way, out of earshot as he talked with her. Presently she nodded and gave him a grin and stood watching as he entered the lift with his companions, then made her way towards medical.

When she walked in, at first glance the room seemed empty. A little investigation found two miserable figures huddle on the floor together, wrapped in each other's arms, fast asleep.

Illya had still not spoken a word. He and little Katiya had insisted on remaining together every moment they could until the time came for Kossov and his granddaughter to make their goodbyes and be spirited away to who knew where. It was clear that Illya was depressed, and for good reason. Napoleon's heart was aching for his friend. He had known in his heart that the man who came home with him, if he ever did, would not be the same man whom had arrived with him. Illya was, and looked, truly shattered. His face was white, his eyes were dry and glacial, and he was totally non responsive.

He and April had tried their best to help their friend, but Illya was having none of it. He did not seem angry, or even upset actually. He seemed…empty. A mere shell of a man. As if all of his emotions had been used up, that there was not a single teardrop left in his body.

Finally, Napoleon gave up his attempts to provoke any kind of response from his friend, and got up from his seat to join April in the plane's galley. April was looking very upset herself.

"Have you ever seen Illya like that before, Napoleon? It's almost as if he's…I don't know, some kind shop window mannequin, made to look like our Illya. There's no emotion or anything. Just a shell of who he was. I hate to see him like that."

Napoleon hugged her briefly.

"Thank you for being here, April. Those last three days would have been so much harder if you hadn't been around to offer moral support."

"You and Illya are as close as brothers to Mark and me." She told him sincerely. "I just wish there was something we could do to help Illya."

Napoleon nodded.

"This past week or two has been so hard on him. You know how private and closed up he has always been. He doesn't show his feelings, he'd die first."

She smiled at that.

"Yes."

"The very first time he ever really showed the true depth of his feelings was when he told me about Mikhail, when he'd been told about his brother's death and betrayal."

Napoleon shook his head.

"My partner wept a lake of tears that day…"

He glanced over to the rear of the plane, where Illya still sat unmoving, staring unseeingly out of the window.

"He's gone beyond emotion, April. He's numb. How much loss can one man take without losing his sanity? How can he ever, possibly become the man he used to be? No one should ever have to live the life that he's had to live and still…"

Napoleon's voice broke and he turned away. April enfolded him in a hug, and for a moment he rested his forehead on her shoulder, then pulled away.

"Got any vodka there?" She nodded and poured out a large glass of vodka, and then a large scotch.

"Go on. You've both earned them. I'll keep out of the way."

Napoleon smiled his thanks and took the drinks to the rear of the plane. He nudged Illya and put the vodka in his hand. Illya stared at the glass stupidly for a minute, then took a large gulp, and then another. Within half a minute the glass was empty.

"Thanks."

Napoleon nodded.

"So, are you going to talk to me?"

"What about?"

"What about? The weather? What do you think? Illya you're my partner, and I hate to see you hurting so much. I can't even begin to imagine how you must be feeling…"

"You're right, you can't!" Illya snapped. Napoleon recoiled slightly, but he stood his ground.

"Illya, you are going to have to talk this through sooner or later. You know what Mister Waverly will say. In the end, you can choose to talk to me or go to Psyche when we get back to New York."

"Go to hell!"

"You don't believe in it my friend. Why don't I start talking?"

"Why don't you just go away and leave…" Illya stopped, and with some vehemence, hurled his empty glass at the wall. It hit the wall and shattered into fragments. Napoleon stared at the broken glass for several seconds, then he grabbed his partner's shoulders and pulled him into a tight bear hug.

Illya resisted and tried to pull away, but Napoleon held him closer, and eventually he felt Illya stop struggling. He kept holding his friend close, and he whispered into Illya's ear, his voice slightly muffled.

"I'm here my friend, I'm not going anywhere. I'm here for you. You can relax, it's just the two of us. Come on Illya, let go. I'm here,"

Illya couldn't let go. He didn't know what to feel, or even how to feel. It seemed that he had gone through such a rollercoaster of emotion recently, he had burned himself out. He had no emotions left. He felt Napoleon reluctantly loose hold on him, and he smiled wanly.

"Sorry for swearing at you my friend."

"Hey you're overwrought. Forget it."

"I am not overwrought, I am perfectly normal, thank you."

Napoleon raised an eyebrow.

"Perfectly normal? Smashing a crystal glass against the wall so hard that you almost reduced it to powder? Telling me to go to hell? That might be normal for some people, but that is not normal for Illya Nikovitch Kuryakin. That is a highly emotional, stressed out Illya Kuryakin. In actual fact, a very rare animal indeed."

Illya glared at him. Napoleon felt desperately sorry for him.

"You need to try and…" he got no further, as Illya growled, and turned away. Napoleon sighed.

"I'm sorry Illya, I'm only trying to help. I'm going to miss that little girl myself. She must be feeling almost as bad. After all, she's not only lost you, she's lost both her mother and her father, and now her home as well."

There was a sudden noise from Illya, a sort of half a snort, half a choke, and he dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around himself, almost as if he were trying to somehow derive some comfort that way. His shoulders began to shake violently. This time, as Napoleon's bear hug enfolded him, Illya finally let go, and wept desperately into the comforting arms of his partner.

April Dancer, still hovering in the galley, sipped at her hot chocolate and frowning, she made up her mind, and quickly made two more mugs. Peeping outside, she saw down the end of the plane her two best friends, both kneeling on the floor. Illya seemed to have collapsed forward, Napoleon was supporting him. There was no sound coming from over there now. She had had to start singing to herself a few moments ago in an attempt not to overhear Illya's heartbroken sobs. She knew he would be mortified if he knew that anyone but his partner had overheard. She did not approach immediately, but cleared her throat making a big thing of putting the mugs down on the table and closing the galley door behind her to give them time to dissemble.

"I made you both some hot chocolate." She told them. "I find that nothing helps me relax better at the end of a long and hard day. Here, you both look like you could use it. The pilot says we have about an hour to JfK."

Napoleon took the mugs and thanked her.

"April, I know it's my job, but under the circumstances, I think Waverly will understand. Will you call in for us?"

"Of course." She smiled and turned away, pulling out her communicator as she did so. Napoleon and Illya watched her, then Illya looked at his partner.

"You are going to have some explaining of your own to do Napoleon, with your family."

He nodded.

"I called Mister Waverly before we got on the plane. Hopefully he will have been to see my people already to explain and smooth the way a little…"

"You might still be in for a hard time, and for what?"

Illya gestured redundantly at his empty hands. His meaning was clear. Napoleon smiled.

"For you, Illya, that's what."

"I don't know how it would have been for me, Napoleon, if you hadn't insisted on coming with me on this…this trip. Thank you my friend. I didn't want you to come, to do that to your family, but I am very grateful to you for doing so anyway. I will owe both you and your family a lifelong debt of gratitude."

Napoleon smiled.

"Actually, Illya, my coming along wasn't altogether an unselfish decision."

"Really?"

Napoleon shook his head.

"I was scared of losing you. Good partners are very hard to find as it is, and Illyas are irreplaceable. I'm so sorry that this affair did not work out the way you were hoping. If anyone deserves to live happily ever after, it's you."

Illya replied with a noise that was half a laugh and half a sob.

"From what April tells me, the people back at HQ still think that you and I are dead too. How will they react when they see us again?"

Napoleon glanced down at his bandaged foot and the crutches that were leaning against the back of the chair.

"With me hobbling in on a gammy leg, and you just getting over pneumonia, we'll hardly be striding in impressively will we?"

Illya gave a lopsided smile, the sight of which made Napoleon's heart glad.

"Oh, I don't know, a ghost on crutches would probably make a much greater impression than a ghost without them."

Napoleon chuckled at the mental imagery and nodded.

"Come along my friend, we need to get ourselves strapped in. We're about to start coming in to land."

When they alighted from their aircraft, their arrival still shrouded in secrecy, they were met on the tarmac by Mark Slate and Alexander Waverly. Mark wordlessly hugged Illya, not knowing how else to convey to his friend the depth of his sorrow at the way things had yet again turned out for the Russian. Illya nodded sturdily.

"Thank you Mark, I will be okay."

Mark nodded, and gabbed his partner in a one handed hug, shaking Napoleon's hand at the same time. Waverly waited until the friends had finished greeting one another and he shook the hands of his two top agents. His hand gripped Illya's for a moment longer than normal, and he looked Illya in the eye.

"Doing the right thing is often the very hardest thing in the world to do, but in the long run you will never regret making the correct choice."

Illya nodded, his face momentarily revealing the raw emotion still just under the surface before he reined himself in once more.

"Yes sir. It's…it's…" He found himself unable to speak, but Waverly nodded to him.

"I know Mister Kuryakin, I do understand, really. For the time being you are going to have to learn to live with it I am afraid. Just try to keep in mind that nothing lasts forever. Situations change. That is your brightest hope."

Illya nodded, and they followed Mark out to the car and climbed in.

When the agents and their boss arrived at Del Floria's, Del Floria's assistant, Sammy Warwick grinned at them all from his place behind the steam press.

"Hey boy!" he said, with a smile at Illya as he activated the steam press and opened the door to headquarters. "I couldn't believe it when Bill told me everything. It really is good to see you safe, son."

Illya didn't feel up to smiling, but he gave the old man as genial a nod as he was able, and they trouped through into reception. The girl manning reception, raven haired Karen Yeates screeched in shock when she saw Solo and Kuryakin stroll in after Waverly. Her eyes opened wide and her eyebrows disappeared beneath her overhanging fringe. Solo rested his right crutch against the edge of the desk and held out his hand.

"Hello again Miss Yeates. Perhaps we can have our badges now?"

"Oh, y.y yes, of course!" she stammered. "Gosh, I.I'm glad to see you back sir…both of you sirs…" she gasped with a glance at Illya. Waverly accepted his badge and passed through with barely a glance at the girl beyond a pleasant `Hello', and Mark and April made sure to follow smoothly as though the presence once more of Solo and Kuryakin was the most normal thing in the world. Solo smiled widely as he regained his crutch and limped through the inner doors. Illya said nothing. He merely nodded to her and passed by. Karen gazed at the closed inner door.

"Wow, they're alive! They're alive!"

Unable to stand the amazing truth on her own, she picked up the phone and dialed the extension of a friend in translations.

"Corinne, you'll never guess who has just come in through reception…"

The journey through the corridors of UNCLE was an experience to say the least. It might have amused Illya if he had been in the mood for it. Everywhere they went they encountered incredulous stares, screams and screeches, dropped files and people colliding with walls, doors and each other as their open-mouthed shock made them forget what they were supposed to be doing or where they were. Two young women from the secretarial pool actually fainted at the sight of them.

"Mister Waverly, I get the impression that you did not broadcast to the staff that we were alive. Everyone seems rather shocked!"

"That is quite correct Mister Solo. Come along. I promised doctor Simpson that I would deliver you both in person."

Illya was kept in medical for twenty-four hours whilst the medical staff satisfied themselves that he was recovering adequately from his sickness. Whilst Illya was being kept confined in medical, Napoleon Solo, having stayed by Illya's side thus far was not about to abandon him now. No one could blame him. The entire staff at HQ had learned by now that Solo and Kuryakin were an unbreakable team who would even pass through the fire for one another if need be; and on this occasion they had done just that. Having almost literally been to hell and back, Mister Waverly was not about to make anything harder for them, and he sat in his office and picked up his phone.

"Miss Rogers, have my chopper pick me up in five minutes on the helipad up top will you? Tell Mister Solo to remain in the building until I return."

"Yes sir. Where are you going?"

"To speak to the Solo family in Napoleon's behalf. It is time for me to do my job."

"Yes sir."

When Napoleon down in medical heard from Lisa Rogers that Waverly was on his way to speak to his family, no doubt to set the record straight and make them understand why the cruel deceit had been so necessary, he felt very relieved. He sat back in his chair, wiping his eyes with his handkerchief. Illya, still fighting his own inner turmoil, noticed him. He wiped his own eyes and tried to smile.

"You and I are going to ruin our reputation as tough section two agents if we keep letting our feelings leak down our faces like this."

Napoleon nodded.

"How tough do we need to be? We came back from the dead. Right now those guys out there think we are just short of being supermen."

Illya laughed ironically.

"Right now I feel far from super. Napoleon, I miss that little girl. Do you know the very last thing she said to me before she and her dedushka left?"

"What did she say?"

"She told me she was going to think of me as though I was her new papa. She asked me if she could call me papa from now on. I said of course she could…"

"...and then they left?"

Illya nodded. Napoleon wiped his eyes again, and when he looked up, he saw tears on Illya's cheeks, but Illya didn't seem to care this time.

"Somehow Napoleon, thinking of her as my daughter…helps in a way. She has no idea what she has given to me."

His partner smiled gently.

"I think perhaps she does. That little girl was quite extraordinary for her age. And her love for you was quite real too. You didn't see her in Tarasov's office when she first learned that she was going to have to leave you behind. How are you doing with it all my friend?"

Illya shrugged uncertainly.

"My heart is again broken into a million tiny pieces, but I think it has not been whole for a long time. If I ever get her back for good, I think she will heal me. For now, my friend, we do not give up the fight. Now I fight for her. I rid the world of THRUSH for Katiya. She has become my reason for being. My own little girl." He looked up at his partner, more tears flowing.

"I think Katiya and my little Dimitri would have liked one another. I never got the chance to tell her about him."

"Well, that is your goal then. The day you are reunited in person, you can tell her about her cousin Dimitri."

Illya shook his head.

"No, not cousin. Not anymore. Her brother Dimitri."

April had been off on another secret mission of her own. She had been flying back and forth between many UNCLE offices, largely to ensure that any THRUSHes that might be on her scent would become thoroughly confused, but finally she had the precious item she had been waiting for. She had had the idea for it in Russia, when Napoleon had explained to her about Illya and his newfound niece, and their impending separation. It had taken a lot of work or organize and make safe, and it had been even more important that Napoleon and Illya were well settled back into routine before she dropped this on them.

Napoleon's reunion with his family had been touching in the extreme. Waverly had brought them back to headquarters, the entire family, and they had all crowded into medical to see the miracle for themselves. Illya had been enfolded into their embraces, and, a demonstrative family, their open weeping for joy had given the Russian an opportunity to release some of his own pent up emotions without feeling embarrassed or awkward.

They had been angry at first, how could they have been otherwise when they learned about the deception? but the assurance that it had been the only way to guarantee the two men's survival had softened the impact considerably; and they had begun to realize, from the redness around the older man's eyes, that none of this had been easy for him either. When they returned home, they took Napoleon and Illya with them for a very well earned leave. It was at the Solo family homestead, sitting on a gate overlooking a flock of fluffy sheep that April finally caught up with Illya. Napoleon was in the small enclosure, feeding the pet lambs, and Illya was simply watching him. His face calm and serene, but still with the same undercurrent of sadness behind his eyes.

"April. What are you doing here?"

"I have something for you, Illya. With Napoleon's support and Mister Waverly's blessing, we have managed to arrange a sort of…pen friend arrangement for you. It will have to go through several UNCLE offices in order to keep THRUSH from intercepting it and learning something they should not, but we have taken every precaution."

"Okay." Illya replied, wondering what she was talking about, guessing but hardly daring to hope. April smiled.

"There is a little girl somewhere out there who is desperately missing her papa. When she writes to you she will call herself Lili. It is not her new name, by the way, but it is the name that you will call her in your letters to her. Mister Waverly will hand her letter to you in person, and when you reply to her, you will hand the letter to him in a plain, sealed envelope. She understands how important it is that she says nothing in any of her letters that might give away her location, so please don't ask her that kind of question in case she forgets. Who knows when any of our couriers will be intercepted?"

April opened her jacket and pulled out a plain white envelope with Papa written on the front in slightly shaky capital letters. Illya stared at April, open-mouthed.

"This was your idea wasn't it?"

She smiled at her friend.

"I have to go. Mark is going to need rescuing in about three hours' time. Give Napoleon my love. Enjoy your letter."

He leaned down and she kissed his nose, then hurried away. Dumbfounded, Illya stared down at the letter in his hands. A letter from his little Katiya? He would get regular letters from her, and he could send letters to her? Stifling the urge to leap down from his perch on the gate and start dancing around the field, he opened the envelope and drew out a pink piece of paper.

"Dear Papa," He started to read…

THE END…?

Author's end note.

Thank you everyone who has read this story all the way through to this point. I'm sorry if you have not had the ending you wanted, but if you really want to know what happens next to Katiya, look out for "The Code Red Affair" that will be coming soon. A one shot story, in actual fact is intended as an epilogue for the Lake of Tears Affair.

Please now give me an honest appraisal of my very first completed novel?