By Summer
Beta read by Bonnie Erickson, and Eotu Who�s help I needed so badly to make this story get written! Thanks!!!
Sequel to The Silent Night Affair
I realized what April Dancer had been up to at the very start. Waverly was sending us on a mission overseas. Illya, now the proud father of a 3-year-old child, had at first refused the assignment, not wanting to leave his son alone for what could amount to a long mission.
So much has changed in just three months. It seemed like it took forever before I finally found a runaway Russian hiding in Canada, protecting his son from the KGB. Finding Illya hadn�t been easy, but getting him to come back to UNCLE had been even harder.
In the end it was love that had allowed me to find him, and only with love would I be able to keep him. Our new relationship was only known to a few. Waverly knew even before we did, and of course April and Mark. Reassured by understanding and acceptance from the only people he respected and cared about, Illya came back to America.
Our first week back and Illya was adamant that he would not live with me in my penthouse apartment. He detested the extravagance and luxury about it and argued that there was no yard for Pasha to play in. After examining every real estate agency in the New York area and checking every agent�s background to be sure of no Thrush threat he...ah rather We decided on a small two-story apartment with a large forest filled park out in the front in the suburbs. It took us two weeks to move in. We could have done it in less time but Illya wanted to start from scratch-and that included everything from new sofas to pots and pans. We argued, we teased, we cajoled, and of course in the interim, we found time to make love.
Illya had decided that since Pasha was to live in America and go to American schools. (Which was still a few years away -Illya was already looking for only the best and most prestigious and academically challenging schools. I am not going to mention the colleges he has been checking into also.) In order for him to fit in decided to call him "Paul" instead of "Pasha".
At first, I thought that it would be hard to win Paul�s affection, but to my astonishment the little rascal�s heart was easily won over as soon as he had opened my Christmas present and found a mobile remote controlled construction truck, which he played with for hours, on the floor of the cabin.
Other problems arose though. Paul didn�t speak much. Most of the time you were lucky to get a yes or a no from him and it was always in Russian (Da, Nyet). He just flatly refused to learn to speak English although it was obvious that he did comprehend the language. He would cling to Illya refusing to be out of his Father�s sight. Worst of all were the nightmares.
Almost every night, Illya and I would awaken to the sounds of Paul screaming or crying.
The act of seeing his mother tortured and killed even at the young age of three was more then traumatizing. No matter what we did, Paul would not be calmed and in the end we put him into bed with us. Often crying himself into an exhausted sleep. Our sleep suffered along with the toddler�s.
I suggested therapy and counseling, but Illya wouldn�t hear of it, he wouldn�t allow any shrink go near his son. Illya figured time would mend his wounds; that and consistency and security.
As time went by, Illya introduced Paul to Waverly. Paul believed him to be his grandfather. Waverly�s pride soared and it was quite obvious that the steely grim head of UNCLE was completely spellbound by one little blond haired blue eyed boy.
Despite all the settling in that Paul had done, Illya remained sensitive to Paul's delicate emotional state and still balked at leaving his son for any assignment that would keep him away longer than a standard working day.
He wouldn�t hear of it until April Dancer, just back from a trip to the Orient with Mark Slate, stepped in suggesting she could stay and baby-sit.
Illya was about to refuse when Paul for the first time since I met the little guy, moved straight to April and hugged her tightly in his arms. He burst into tears shortly after, refusing to let her go. It took us a moment to realize that Paul had mistaken April for his Mother. Not wishing to upset Paul, Illya had decided to introduce her as his Aunt.. April was soon walking about with a 35-pound weight nailed to her legs.
Illya finally gave in to the pressure.
To be certain that Paul didn�t get overly stressed by Illya leaving him for the first time since they reunited, Illya proposed that April stay at our place. The familiar surroundings Illya figured would help with the transition. April agreed.
Two hours before our flight, the doorbell rang and I hurried to answer it.
Illya was in the kitchen trying to get Paul to eat his breakfast. Paul wanted only a cookie for breakfast. Illya was stubbornly trying to make the rascal eat a healthy meal of egg�s and bacon. His son was just as stubbornly demanding the cookie. He stomped his feet and pointed at the cookie jar with the most perfected pout I knew had been inherited from dear old dad.
"No Cookie, until you eat your breakfast!"
Paul only glared back with his arms crossed around himself. I watched rather amused interested to see who would crack first. Of course, it was Illya who gave in at the end as soon as the sad blue tearful eyes looked up at him. Those eyes could melt butter, I know because Paul got them from his Father as well.
Reaching the door, I opened it and was suddenly blown backwards by several little figures bounding into the apartment like a cyclone. Yelping and barking with flopping ears flying about.
Lugging behind with luggage was April.
"Hi Napoleon, sorry I�m late."
About to gesture to the five- four legged creatures that were quickly making themselves home in my apartment I stopped when I heard a loud shriek.
Both April and I turned to see Paul who had entered the living room spot the mongrels and at once clapped his hands together. The puppies hearing the clap quickly took up a tackle position and went running straight for him.
Now, try to imagine this, a three year old kid running throughout the apartment with his hands waving in the air with five 8 week golden retrievers hot on his tail! Needless to say I couldn�t stop laughing.
Illya failed to see my amusement. He heard the commotion and came running into the room to see all his new furniture covered in dog hairs, watching as tables got bumped into, rugs pushed off center and everything that wasn�t held down being dropped or trampled on.
"What the?" Five small puppies blew right past Illya who spotted Paul running past him with the tables turned he was running after the scattering puppies, who if you asked me had an energized look in their eyes. If they had been human I would have sworn they were smiling gleefully, playfully trying to evade one small three year-old�s outstretched hands.
Illya quickly seized the small two-legged figure and pulled him up into the air.
Paul with no remorse only looked up at his father with stunned eyes and at once began to whimper and try to shimmy himself back to the ground where five puppies were crawling and clambering up Illya�s legs to try to get to the new child toy they had found.
In perfect English Paul reached down and whimpered. "Puppies!"
That was it, Illya was turned into mush and before you know it, Paul was on the ground with five puppies climbing all over him and licking him in the face to express their already worshipping devotion.
Getting his balance, Illya finally looked at April with a raised eyebrow.
April only shrugged and smiled sheepishly.
"My upstairs neighbor�s dog gave birth to puppies; she was seeking homes for them when her Aunt took sick. She figured she could take Goldie with her but not the puppies, so I told her that until she got back I could watch them.... It�s only for a few days."
"April are you sure you can handle five puppies and a three-year-old child at the same time?"
April shrugged. "If I can handle Thrush I�m sure I can handle a kid and a few pups, besides Mark promised to come over and help. Now if you two don�t get going you will be late for your plane and you know how Waverly gets when you guys fumble things up."
Illya was about to argue and suddenly call off the whole thing when the sound of something that we had never heard filled our ears.
Paul giggling.
Making sure that April had every phone number in the medical directory and would be able to reach Illya with the Uncle communicator pen he went over everything that Paul might need. I finally managed to drag Illya out an hour later, and after fighting traffic, we made our flight with two minutes to spare. Illya grimly muttered all the way that Paul hadn�t even noticed our departure from the apartment, who had been too preoccupied being on the bottom of a pile up of pups.
Needless to say we hadn�t even gotten in the air and Illya was already using the communicator pen. April�s voice floated in on the other end.
"Yes Illya, the house is still standing, the pups haven�t broken anything (The sound of a crash was heard in the background) ah anything that can�t be fixed, and Paul is handling everything all right.... Want to talk to him...Paul come here!"
A moment later Illya could hear breathing.
"Right there, now listen...go ahead Illya."
Illya at once spoke into the pen in fluent Russian.
"It�s Papa, How�s my baby doing?"
At once Paul cut in and spoke back in broken Russian.
"Hi Papa, playing with puppies, bye bye!"
Then he was gone.
Illya was left listening to an empty pen. April cut in saying that she planned to take everyone to the park to play. Reassured that all was well, Illya closed the line. After a few minutes Illya said rather bitterly, "He doesn�t even miss me."
Not sure what to say that wouldn�t get me killed, I patted him reassuringly on the shoulder.
"Of course he does, he's just being like his dad and putting on a brave front."
Illya looked at me without believing a word I said.
The mission went well, and instead of a week it took only three days to bring down a Thrush cartel and return to New York. Illya almost dove off the plane as soon as it landed. Instead of going directly to HQ to give our report to Waverly, Illya made for home.
Illya was more than a bit worried when we arrived back at the apartment to see that though the house was still standing and in one piece, April and Paul were not there. It was fortunate, that I had looked on the refrigerator to see April had left a brief note.
"Everything's OK, At Mark�s."
Hurrying downtown Manhattan, we arrived at Mark�s place, a small apartment on the first floor, to hear a commotion-taking place within.
Knocking on the door, Illya waited impatiently for the door to open. Mark was the one who greeted us.
"Hey mates heard you were back. Paul!, Papa is back."
Among the yelps and barking Illya heard a loud shrill cry of glee and in a moment a three-year-old child was in his arms. "Papa!"
I smiled, when Illya looked at me with those twinkling eyes, that told me how happy he was to have been missed after all.
All his fears washed away in that moment and just by looking at Paul one could see April had done a fine job in taking care of her charges.
April bounded in from the bedroom a moment later.
"Hi, sorry about leaving the complex, but Mark had an emergency that he needed and only I could fix."
She smiled and produced a large wrench.
Mark shrugged. "My plumbing needed fixing and you know that the old girl is just a wiz when it comes to working on pipes.... Right old girl."
April only smiled at him warningly. "Right Old man."
Illya nodded and putting Paul down made to leave.
"Thanks April, Mark for watching Paul, I better get him home. Come on Paul."
Almost out the door, Paul made a break for it.
It took Illya a moment to realize that Paul had only gone to the puppies and in his little arms he used all his strength to grab each puppy and try to carry them to the door.
"Hold it, Hold it what do you think you�re doing?"
At once Paul looked up, still clutching three puppies in his arms with eyes that could pierce into your very soul.
A small voice came from him and to our surprise it was in English.
"Puppies, taking home."
"Oh no! No, no, no, nononononononononononono, No Puppies! No, they stay here!"
If one could see a heart constrict, one would have seen April, Mark�s and my own get crushed when those sad eyes peered back at his father.
"No take?" He questioned.
"No take!" Illya replied firmly.
Putting down all the puppies but one, light haired golden pup with a patch over her eye. Paul quickly held it up close to his face and stared pleadingly at his father.
"One puppy? Papa?" He then chirped softly. "Please?"
I knew what to expect, Illya turned to me with his eyes pleading for some sanity and my help. I stared back with eyes that promised the Russian he would suffer many a cold frustrating night if he didn�t let Paul have one pup.
Illya growled furiously. I only stared him down.
"He is too young, they will eat my slippers, pee all over the rug and rip the newspapers apart!"
I crossed my arms and glared at him.
Illya turned to Mark and April for collaboration and saw none.
Turning back to his son, Illya was about to keep control over the situation with a stern no, when he saw the blue eyes staring up at him along with two brown puppy eyes. The puppy even did a small yelp and licked Paul affectionately. She was a charmer. To no one�s great surprise, Paul called her Katrina. After his mother.
It was a cool set up, well delivered and Illya surrendered.
"All right."
"Yippee!" Paul yelled contentedly and swirled around in circles, with the pup howling as if she understood she had passed the test and now had a new home.
...
That Night, Illya remained awake waiting and waiting for the screams that would come inevitably from Paul's room. For the first time in 3 months none came.
In the morning Illya peeked in and was pleasantly surprised to see Paul sound asleep with a small puppy wrapped up next to him with its head sleeping on the child�s chest. Paul never did have another nightmare.
Naturally, I knew the set up from the start, and knowing future puppy accidents would be inevitable. Despite having to someday explain his father�s relationship with me, I felt comfortable in the knowledge that at least one small little boy in this world had finally found himself a home.
One that was filled with security, consistency, a protective dog, and of course Love.
The End.