Napoleon was almost asleep when he felt the warm, soft touch of a little hand and turned to look into a familiar pair of blue eyes.

"Help me make a sand castle, Uncle Polya?" asked Lydia Kuryakina.

As drowsy as the sun had made him, the brunet couldn't resist the sweet, plaintive voice of his partner's five-year-old daughter. "Sure, hon," he yawned.

Illya and Trina were walking along the shore with two-year-old Dominik between them. The toddler squealed with delight every time he found a pretty shell. Soon he became cranky, and Illya picked him up.

"No! Mama!" he demanded.

Illya gave a wry smile and handed the toddler to Trina, who carried him back to the quilt and settled him for a nap under the umbrella.

"Daddy, look what me and Uncle Polya made!" Lydia said proudly. By that time, the sand castle had become quite an impressive structure.

"You did a very good job, Printsessa," Illya praised his daughter, who blushed and giggled with pleasure.

Trina sat on the quilt and removed her leg braces, then lay back while Illya tenderly covered her legs with sunscreen. "Mm," she mumbled. Although her legs were very weak and atrophied, she still retained some sensation in them, and in her feet.

Lydia tired of the sand castle and wanted to play in the water on her raft. Napoleon watched her closely to make sure she didn't drift out too far. It occurred to him that he'd been 'Uncle Polya' for five years now. He wondered whether he'd ever be 'Daddy.'