Life After

"What would you be doing if you weren't doing this?"

I was sitting propped up in my hotel bed, and Gaby was using me as a pillow, absently playing with the jewelry she'd just taken off. She always launches into these random topics when she's tired after a mission. I used to mind, at first, but I'm good at reading people, and I saw that it was how she got herself to relax after a day spent in danger. So I talk to her, even when I don't feel like it. It's the least I can do for my little girl.

"Fashion," I answered readily. "I like clothes."

"And I like cars," she replied. "I'd be doing that for real if I hadn't been recruited."

I'd tried to sound casual, but I'd never actually told anyone that, and I was taken aback by how immediately she accepted my answer and the fact that she didn't laugh or make fun of it. While I was thinking through my amazement, she continued.

"A lot of men find that strange. Back home none of the boys wanted to go out with me because they said it was unfeminine to like engines."

I felt anger welling up inside me. "Was my Gaby upset by them?" I asked darkly, curling my big arm around her small frame.

She shook her head. "No, I thought they were stupid, like most men." I threw back my head and laughed. See, if I took the trouble to talk to her, I always got something out of it.

"So you think I could be fashion designer?" I hedged, looking down at her and meeting her eyes under her long lashes.

"Of course," she said, sitting up next to me so she could wrap her arm around my middle and lean on my shoulder. "You're much better at picking clothes for missions than I am, and you're very smart. You could be whatever you want to be."

"You think I'm smart?" I was baffled.

She nodded against me. "Obviously. That's why you were picked for training. You're a Chess champion, you speak lots of languages, do I need to list off all of your skills?" She was teasing me a bit, but I was serious.

"No," I answered, resting my head on top of hers. "Is just—I am used to people calling me stupid giant and monster, not smart man."

Gaby reached out and traced my jawline with her finger. "Not just smart—also handsome." She spoke softly, and I couldn't resist kissing her.

After a while, when she pulled back and rested her head on my shoulder again, I dared to say something I'd wanted to say for a long time. "When I think—about life after this work—I don't want to do it alone."

"Of course not." Gaby was getting sleepy now; I could hear it in her voice. "I'll always be with you."

I felt like somebody had given me the best present in the world, but I didn't want to react, because my Gaby was falling asleep on my shoulder, so I just held her as tenderly as I could and smiled to myself.

I will ask her to marry me. I didn't know when, but I am no longer afraid of the answer.

A/N: It's canonical to the original series that Illya becomes a haute couture fashion designer after he leaves U.N.C.L.E.