Thank you for your reviews. It's really great to know that people are reading this (and enjoying it!) So thanks for your comments and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Okay, deep breath in…deep breath out…here we go!


Getting dressed had been more complicated than Illya had anticipated. Matching one's clothes required a certain degree of visual consideration, and all Illya had to go off of was memories from two weeks ago of what laid where in his closet and wardrobe. He used a great deal of caution while shaving, careful to not leave any patches and, most importantly, not to slice himself with the invisible blade. The least time consuming parts had been tying his shoes and strapping on his shoulder holster because muscle memory performed those tasks easily for him. Subconscious of how he must look, Illya applied his sunglasses in an effort to disguise his bandages. Grabbing his wallet and keys, Illya was soon heading out his door, waving his cane in front of him to secure a safe path.

When he made it out of his building, Illya halted. The harsh smells and chaotic noises of busy New York City made Illya question his decision. How easy would it be for him to get lost…or worse, attacked? But confidence in his training, coupled with the dread of returning to that stuffy and boring apartment, quickly pushed those concerns from his mind and Illya strode forward onto the sidewalk.

The sound of motors and revolving tires told Illya that he was nearing the street; and a moment later, the blaring of a car horn told him he was in the street. He quickly jumped backwards, connecting with another individual.

"Hey, watch where you're going, bud!" A cigar-bitten voice exclaimed roughly.

Illya regained his footing and listened as the car sped past only a few feet away, his palpitating heart trying to match the vehicle in velocity. He took a moment to straighten his jacket.

"That was pretty stupid," a small voice spoke from behind him.

He turned towards the voice which sounded quite young.

"Even I know not to do something as dumb as that," the voice continued.

"You're a very smart boy," the Russian observed. Then, getting an idea, he asked, "What is your name?"

"Elliot," the boy answered. "But I'm not supposed to tell that to strangers."

Illya gave a half smile, "Don't worry, Elliot, I don't want to hurt you. I would just like to ask you for some help."

"Okay," young Elliot answered. "I like you. Your accent's funny and your tie is cool."

"Excellent," answered the man. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet. He reached into the billfold and retrieved some money. Then he knelt to one knee, guessing that he would be about eyelevel with Elliot now. "Come here," Illya gestured. He heard the light footfall as the young boy approached him. Illya held out the money. "Can you tell me how much this is?" he asked.

"Ten dollars," the small voice replied.

"Alright…" Illya said under his breath, folding the bill and placing it in his breast pocket. Then he reached into his pant pocket and grabbed a few loose coins. He held the coins in the palm of his hand and showed them to his assistant. "And how much is this?" he asked.

"Uhh…ten plus five is fifteen," the young boy counted quietly, "plus three…sixteen-seventeen-eighteen. Eighteen plus twenty-five…is…forty-four?"

Illya smiled, he could feel the child touch each of the coins in his hand softly as he focused on getting the math right. "Forty-three," the agent corrected.

"Oh," Elliot gave a small laugh, a nervous sort of laugh which the usually stoic Russian secretly found quite adorable. "Forty-three cents," the boy stated.

Thinking that wasn't quite a good amount, Illya leaned his cane against his chest and maneuvered the change to his other hand so that he could reach back into his pocket for more coins. He pulled them out and showed them to the boy. "How much is this?" he asked. Illya patiently waited while the child counted the money to come up with seventy-one cents. "That sounds good," the blonde haired man stated as he combined the two hand-fulls of change. "You're very good at arithmetic, Elliot."

Again, the boy laughed shyly. "Thanks," he said.

"You're quite welcome. And you've also been quite a help to me. So this is for you." He found the boy's hands and placed the coins in them.

"Gee! Thanks mister!" Elliot exclaimed excitedly.

"You're welcome, and you can tell your mother how you earned that money so that she doesn't worry where you got it. Now, do you think you could do one more thing for me?"

"Sure!" Elliot said happily.

"I need to wave down a cab. Can you help me do that?"

"Oh sure, that's easy!"

Illya rose to his feet once again and soon heard the sound of an automobile pulling up to the curb. He was slightly startled to feel a small hand grasp his and pull him forward. Elliot guided Illya's hand until it was touching the handle of the car door. "Thank you, Elliot," Illya said, getting into the cab.

"You're welcome. Bye mister!"

After giving the driver directions, the taxi was soon pulling away from the curb.

The driver tried to make polite conversation. "Have you ever seen a morning as beautiful as this? I'll tell you what, this has got to be my favorite time of year. Just goes to show that even in New York, the sky can be pretty."

A pang of remorse coursed through Illya, but he hid it. He wondered if he would ever see that New York sky again. The sense of selfishness that he had learned to suppress his whole life suddenly started to scream out at him, saying that it severely hoped he would see again. With much practice though, he had become skilled in silencing that voice, and his pessimistic nature repeated to himself once more, "Don't get your hopes up, Kuryakin."

The driver must have glanced at the rearview mirror. "Oh, wait a minute, you can't see," the man said, honestly noticing for the first time that his fare was sightless.

Illya wanted to say 'And evidently you can, O observant one,' but his self control kept him from it. Instead he simply replied, "No, I cannot."

The rest of the drive was rather quiet. Soon, Illya felt the car come to a stop.

"Del Floria's tailor shop," the driver announced, "this where you were headed?"

"Yes," Illya replied. He reached into his jacket's breast pocket and retrieved the ten dollar bill Elliot had helped him find. "Thank you," he said, reaching forward and paying the cab driver.

Illya climbed out of the car and then hesitated. Bending over, he spoke towards the driver. "Am I directly in front of the building?" he asked.

"Uhh, no, not really. The entrance is sort of forward and to your left a little."

Illya turned his head back towards the tailor shop. "Forward and to my left a little," he repeated quietly, trying to determine exactly what that entailed.

"I'll tell you what," spoke the driver, "close the door and hold on to the car through the window."

Illya did as instructed. Then he felt the cab creep forward slowly. Illya walked to keep pace with the car until he felt it come to a stop.

"There," said the cabbie, "Put you back against the side of the taxi, and you'll be standing directly in front of the store's entrance. Watch it though. Those look like steps leading down to it."

'Watch it,' Illya repeated inwardly, 'interesting choice of words,' he mused. Then, bending over slightly, he said through the opened window, "Thank you, you've been very helpful. You can keep the change." He cautiously advanced, swinging his cane until he found the stairs and could gingerly descend them. Once he made it safely to the door, Illya heard the taxi cab pull away from the curb.

To be continued...


I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please feel free to review!

--Monker