Illya couldn't wait to find out how the group he and Napoleon had saved were faring. Fortunately, he had a few days' leave before his next assignment, so the first thing he did the following morning was to go to the motel where they were staying to check on them.

He arrived to find the group well-rested and comfortable but somber. He could certainly understand why, as they'd lost their husband/father and been transported fifty years into the future on the same day.

"Illya!" Alexandra exclaimed, rushing to embrace him. In her blue eyes he saw deep pain, sorrow, vulnerability. He had the overwhelming urge to protect her.

"This New York City of 1968, we will be safe here? The Bolsheviks will not find us?"

"You will be quite safe. I will see to that."

"Then I suppose first we should find permanent lodging. To do that we must sell our jewels. Can you tell us where to go to do so?"

"I will take you to a dealer," Illya offered.

The dealer's eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw the jewels. They were quickly sold and the money deposited into the bank. Alexandra was easily able to buy a house large enough for ten people to live in with plenty left over.

"I do appreciate all your help," Alexandra told Illya once the group was settled in their new home. "I hope that you'll be a frequent visitor."

"The line of work I'm in takes me out of town frequently," said Illya. "But I will certainly stay in touch as frequently as I can."

"And what line of work is that?" asked Alexandra.

"I'm a photographer for a magazine." It was the standard answer Illya gave when asked about his profession.

"You certainly seem to be well trained in combat for a photographer."

"I formerly served in the police force."

"I see. And why did you give that up to become a photographer?"

"I decided that I wanted to see more of the world." Illya grinned. "Have a pleasant evening, and please call me if you need anything."


The week seemed to fly by. Illya spent every available minute with Alexandra, helping her to shop for furniture, clothing, and food, to learn to navigate the city's buses and subways, to learn modern-day American customs and traditions.

At last the day arrived that Illya had to leave on assignment with Napoleon.

"I have to go out of town for my job," he told Alexandra. "I'm not sure exactly when I'll be back, but I'll be gone for at least a couple of weeks."

Alexandra looked crestfallen. Illya suddenly wished more than anything that he could stay with her.

"The time will pass quickly," he said. "You have provisions and know your way around. You will be fine."

"There is something that I forgot to tell you," Alexandra said. "Alexei suffers from a bleeding disorder. If he suffers even a minor injury, he bleeds uncontrollably. He has been close to death many times."

"If he is injured, you must take him to the hospital," Illya told her. "They can stop the bleeding and save him. Medicine has advanced greatly in the past fifty years, Alexandra. There are treatments now for disorders that were considered untreatable before."

Alexandra looked greatly relieved. "In that case, I am very glad to be in 1968. Alexei's illness has always been my greatest burden." She stared at the ground. "I am the cause of it, you know."

"And why is that?"

"The disease is in my blood, in my family's blood. Alexei inherited it from me."

"There is no reason for you to feel guilty," Illya told her. "It is not your fault that Alexei has a blood disorder. You cannot help what is in your family's blood."

Alexandra smiled weakly. "That's what Nicky used to always tell me." The memory of her husband, so tragically lost, caused tears to come to her eyes again.

"It's true." Illya smiled gently. "Please take good care of yourself and your lovely family, Alexandra, and I'll see you again when I return."