Intentionally Misfiled Reports #3 - may be read independently

"Did either of you see the dossier that Waverly dropped off, oh. Hmm. I see you are otherwise occupied. Make sure you are using protection." Solo stepped dramatically backwards up the steps, and covered his eyes. The basement of the house Waverly had bought contained a locked storage area for files using a vault system that Solo had personally approved, and the rest of the area was mirrored, with a padded floor, and various weights set up. The other two floors of the house had six small bedrooms, living areas, a kitchen and bathrooms. Each spy had their own space and office. Gaby and Solo had furnished most of it. Only one bedrooms existed on the main floor, the rest of the space grandly taken by the stairway, and the common rooms for the house. The main floor bedroom had been inhabited by Illya. At first it was for the sake of convenience, but Solo remarked, Illya was a good watch dog to have near the entrances to their base of operations. The main dining room had been co-opted as a strategy room, where Waverly held the mission briefing the night before.

"Not funny Solo." Gaby bit out as she struggled against Illya's hold on her. One slim arm was barred behind her back, and her legs were wrapped up in his. She had one arm free, and was trying to reach for a dummy knife that was just out of her reach.

"Always use protection, Solo." Illya grunted, Gaby had pushed her free elbow into his solar plexus. And grabbed the knife, she pretended to push it up under Illya's ribs, as it folding in on itself.

His loosed his grip on her trapped arm, and she twisted around, and pushed hard on his chest, and flipped out of his hold. But he then grabbed the knife and pretended to slash it under her chin, when she did not back away from him immediately after freeing herself.

"Wrong. Again." Illya commanded, as he rose to his feet. Gaby did not miss the way he gingerly tested his ankle.

"You look like you've had enough." Gaby tried to press gently. Illya had surpassed the doctors' expectations, and recovered quickly after surgery on his foot to repair the tendon. After dutifully using crutches for as long as they had prescribed, he whipped through the physiotherapy prescribed. He was already going for short runs, he said to build up his strength and speed. But more than one night she had come downstairs to find a bag of frozen vegetables melting on his foot, as he read in the living room, his foot obviously still hurting. He complained that aspirin hurt his stomach, and refused to take anything stronger. Not unlike his absolute refusal to drink during mission, and only had a sip on special occasions.

"Okay, you can take a break, if only you tell me what you did wrong." Illya put the need for a pause back on her, and she rolled her eyes.

"The dossier, anyone. I want to have another look before my flight, and Gaby, we need to leave soon." Solo asked again, this time coming down the steps. He looked both of them over. "That is if you're done thrashing the Red Peril."

Gaby blushed at this compliment. She had started off horribly with training, her one tactic of rushing an enemy had only worked that one night, when she was drunk and had put an awkward Illya of balance. Illya who had his guard down, and had only been trying to keep her from injuring herself. During the real lessen Kuryakin was giving her, it was quite clear that she needed some smarter moves to master if she ever was going to be useful in a fight. The Russian was going to work with her on it, and told her she was tough, but hopefully if he did his job correctly, she would never have to brawl with enemies.

Gaby had watched Solo and Kuryakin spar a couple of times, and was surprised at how Solo had seemed so outmatched. Solo was vicious and fast, but Illya could always turn Solo's moves against him, as if Solo were just working harder for Illya's amusement. Solo's pride had smarted after those, but he too was learning a few things from Illya. Solo commented that he only got into brawls for poor planning, if he could not talk someone out of a fight, that was why he carried a gun, or ran. But even with Illya's superior speed and skill, Solo still got in shots occasionally that could have been deadly anywhere outside of a practice room. The American was no slouch.

"Dossier is on back of toilet." Illya answered, and stared pointedly at Gaby. "Your mistake? You could have won that fight."

"What else was I going to do? I could not kill you when I was held like that." Gaby asked. She thought she had done fairly well, until Illya had slit her throat.

"You are women, tougher than men and have to be meaner than opponent." Illya had said this before, and she nodded. Gaby had been encouraged to hit him as hard she would an opponent, but did not start doing that until tenth time he had dropped her into the practise mats. She had come up from that with humiliated tears in her eyes, and a sore wrist, but their next grapple she had caught him in the side with her knee and actually escaped his grip for a moment. Solo had clapped from where he observed trying to find a file. And Illya had given her a heart stopping smile, while rubbing where his kidney was.

"But you had other places to put knife. You could reach my side, and you chose to put knife into my liver, which is good. Would kill without surgeon, eventually. But would need to bleed out first. So with that method, should have taken knife with you, not left it. And ran." He patted his side where she had mock stabbed him. "That was second best choice."

"I couldn't see to hit you in the face, and that would have taken too long. You would have broken my other arm." Gaby protested.

"Perhaps, but if I did break your arm, you still would need to get free." Illya gestured downwards, at his groin. "Could reach this, and knife here far more demoralising than stab to chest. After hit there, I would be paralysed with pain, and you could get free and run, or simply kill me. Legs also option, but also require me to bleed out. Need to put in knife on the inside of my leg just above the knee, close to bone and rip laterally away, guaranteed to hit femoral artery. Will finish someone in a few minutes, faster if they struggle, very messy though, close eyes."

Gaby blanched at this information. "Okay." She said simply. He nodded at her.

"Remember, if in a fight, it is you or him. You take too long to end it, it will be him. A knife is your best weapon. Knife fights aren't like in movies. They are quick, and you are quick." And he called her something that made her chest flutter, though it was a word in Russian that he had not taught her. "But still good work today, came very close."

"Peril," Napoleon said from where he stayed at the top of the stairs. "Remind me to stay on your good side."

"Why, I scare you Cowboy?" Illya taunted back.

"Well, you seem immune to my charm, dodge my bullets, and you obviously can out run me." Napoleon ticked off on his fingers, good naturedly.

"Even with crutches," Illya put in snidely.

"Don't worry," Gaby said, a light burning in her brown eyes. "I'll protect you." And she flipped the practice knife in her fingers and flung it at Illya. It bounced harmlessly of his turtleneck, but he grimaced and touched his throat.

The Russian bobbed his blonde head. "Perfect."

MFU

Okay, I know I said I had something else planned to write next, but I had to fill a prompt from casper22 first. Since this set about 6 weeks after Whispers and is right before my next story, it only made sense to write it first.

All my works will be in series, and may refer obliquely to on another, but will be able to be read independently, more or less. I will start labelling them as such.

Hope everyone enjoyed. Let me know!

(Get Ready For It – Take That)