Alexander Waverly sat back to enjoy what was shaping into a wonderfully dull morning. Not only was THRUSH laying low, every other potential evil was as well.

Just as he began lighting his pipe, the door to his office flew open, and his niece Roxanne rushed in, followed by her husband. On their heels was Napoleon Solo. They all spoke at once.

"Uncle Alexander, you've got to do something! My children!"

"Two out of three of them, disappeared from their beds!"

"Sir, Illya's gone! He went for a paper, and it's been fifteen minutes, and I can't raise him over the communicator!"

"Calm down, one at a time." Waverly ordered, standing. "Roxanne?"

"Claire and Micheal, they're gone!"

"I assume this was what you wished to say as well?" He asked, turning to Eddie.

"Yes." He nodded. "Good thing Christian was in our room last night, or he might have--"

"Don't say it!" The woman wailed, throwing herself into a chair.

"Mr. Solo?"

"Illya went for the morning paper fifteen minutes ago. The newsstand isn't more than two minutes away! I've tried his communicator, but there's no sign of him!"

"Mr. Solo, what is that creature that's been trailing you?"

A small orange tabby leapt up onto the table, which spun a foot to the right as he landed.

"Ah, that's, erm, that's the office cat? His name's DeLeon, he--"

DeLeon raised his paw when Napoleon said his name.

"Right, right, well keep him in *your* office. Now, Mr. Solo, I want you to--"

Lisa Rogers sashayed in. "Mr. Waverly?"

"I seem to be in demand today. Yes, what is it?"

"Section three's brought a telegram of some sort for you. They got it in the field."

"Strange." He opened it. "Ah. Well, that's been made abundantly clear. THRUSH wishes to organize a trade. My great-niece and nephew for me."

Roxanne let out a strangled sigh.

"Shall we, Mr. Solo? You will, of course, officiate the trade."

"You mean you're going to--?"

"Well, I have to. I certainly shan't let them keep a hold of the children." He moved to the door, then looked back over his shoulder. "Miss Rogers, you will see to Roxanne and Edmund?"

She nodded, a little unsure of what to say. Napoleon shrugged and followed his superior, hoping that Waverly did indeed have a plan beyond 'give myself over to our greatest enemy'.

"Do you think they have Illya, too?"

"He wasn't in the telegram. I imagine they wouldn't throw him into the bargain just for me."

He bit his lip and kept following. If need be, he'd trade himself for Illya, but he felt now wasn't the time to mention it to Waverly.

---/-/---

Illya woke up with a throbbing headache. He didn't have to open his eyes to have a good idea of his surroundings. He was in another THRUSH cell.

"Hi."

It was not the sort of voice he expected. He cracked open one eyelid. A small child came into focus.

"Oh, bloody marvelous..." He muttered under his breath, straightening up. "Claire?"

"Hi." She repeated.

Micheal came into view as well. "Hi."

"Hi." Illya groaned, feeling well and truly defeated. Was this some new form of torture THRUSH had devised, just to drive him to madness?

"You were sleeping." Micheal nodded.

"Um, yes." He lied. "Sleeping. Aren't you children afraid?"

"We used to be." The girl climbed into his lap. "I'm not anymore, now that you're here. Will you tell us another story?"

"I think it would be more productive," he whispered, "if I made some attempt at an escape."

"You can escape?" Micheal asked, wide-eyed.

A guard glared in their direction, his attention captured by the overly-loud voice of the six-year-old.

"No, I don't think so." Illya said in a stage-voice. "All I can do now is," and resigned to his fate, he continued. "All I can do now is tell you a story."

Claire clapped her hands and snuggled up to him. Illya wriggled uncomfortably, torn between wanting to keep both children happy so that they would stay quiet, and not wanting to actually have to hold either one of them.

"Once upon a time, there was a rich and beautiful kingdom in a land far away."

"How far away?"

"Very." He said tersely. "Across a vast ocean and many miles of land, and over mountain ranges. Is that far enough?"

Micheal nodded. Claire rested her head against Illya's chest contentedly.

"This faraway kingdom was ruled by King Alexei. The king had three sons. The oldest was named Piotr, and he was the strongest. The middle son was named Ivan, and he was the swiftest rider. The third son was named..." he pondered over this for a while, but the answer came to him soon enough. "The youngest son was Napasha, and nobody thought much of him, but he was the kindest and bravest out of all of the princes."

---

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