Now the Russian sat at his desk in the office he shared with his partner in U.N.C.L.E. New York; his thoughts drifting back to those years spent at the Moskva Orphanage.
There he learned both bad and good lessons as he walked a path that was not the wisest one, but thanks to a young girl he turned from that crooked path and found the right way.
Illya glanced over to Napoleon as he fidgeted with some paper clips, waiting impatiently for their next field assignment.
He whispered softly. "Spacibo Natasha Asimov."
"Say something tovarisch?"
"Nothing my friend, nothing."
FINIS