Disclaimer: I do not own anything associated with these story, Man from Uncle or these characters. I am not making any money from this story. It is purely being written for my own enjoyment.

Author's Note: Fifth and final chapter, coming at cha! No beta, just me. Any mistakes you find I do humbly apologize. I hope you've enjoyed reading this little story within a story. As previously mentioned, there is a sequel already started, so look forward to that. Any questions, comments, ideas, criticisms, feel free to write them in a comment or PM me.
As always, I hope you enjoyed reading, and thank you for spending some time in my tale. Until next time.
Cheers.
-SB

After he had deposited her with the medical team, Illya walked away to stand alone by the edge of the cliff, looking out into the ocean that lay before him. He couldn't watch the paramedics poke and prod her. He would feel the need to ask questions and be protective, to bully them into treating her the way he felt was best. Not to mention he couldn't be trusted if one of them accidently caused her discomfort. No, distance was best.

Somehow, after all that had happened, they still managed to complete their mission. "I know, I can't believe it either," Napoleon mumbled, coming to stop beside his Russian counterpart. "Then again I always get the bad guy in the end, so…"

"Oh, you got him did you?" Illya couldn't help it when he rolled his eyes at the American's words. "You cannot be serious."

Frowning, Solo turned to Kuryakin. "As a heart attack."

"You were lying on ground about to be shot when I killed him," the Russian grumbled, his arms crossing his chest defiantly.

Letting out a dry chuckle, Napoleon Solo planted his hands on his hips, wincing slightly at the movement. "Yes, but I spotted Vinciguerra manhandling Gaby on the security cameras while you were god knows where, running around on your own doing god knows what. Need I remind you that Alexander Vinciguerra ran you off the road."

"This conversation is absurd," Illya murmured under his breath, turning back to face the ocean.

"Speaking of absurdities," Solo breathed, wincing again when his hands dropped to his sides. Illya raised an eyebrow as he spared the American a sideways glance. "I may have been on my ass, but don't think for a second I didn't see you throw that motorcycle at him." Illya let out a snort of a laugh. "Don't laugh, I'm being completely serious. What do they feed you behind the iron curtain?" When the Russian didn't answer, Solo smirked. "I feel the need to disclose to you that I am now 100% convinced you're not human, Peril."

Movement by the medics drew the attention of both men as Gaby stood, slowly limping in their direction. Slapping Solo on the back, Kuryakin smiled over at him. "Maybe one day I tell you my secrets."

"I doubt that highly," the American muttered as they began walking leisurely towards Gaby. When they were close enough, Solo called out to her. "How are you feeling, Miss Teller?"

Gaby nodded and attempted to smile but was visibly shaken. "I will be alright."

Closing the distance between them rapidly, Illya grabbed the blanket she was carrying in her hands and unfolded it, wrapping it around her shoulders. "Come, you should sit," he said, wrapping his arm protectively around her as he led her back towards the helicopter.

"I think I'll pop over to the medic now that our little Gaby has been seen," Solo commented, completely ignored by the two who were now walking several feet in front of him. "Excellent. Great work team. No thanks necessary for me," he said to himself, limping over to where the medic was waiting.

Assisting Gaby in sitting on the steps of the helicopter, Illya knelt down in front of her, his eyes raking over her face as his hands rubbed up and down her arms in attempts to warm her up. "How is your head?" he asked, lifting her hair to inspect the gash that was there.

"Stop fussing over me," she hissed, reaching up and capturing his hand in hers as her other reached out to cup his bloodied, dirt covered face. "Illya, you should see the medic."

Shaking his head and smiling at her, the Russian leaned into her gentle touch. "I am fine." Sighing, he grabbed both of her hands in his and gave their palms a light kiss. "You are my concern, little chop shop girl."

"What sort of trouble have you and Solo gotten into without me to look after you?" she joked, earning a quiet chuckle from Illya.

"I think rather it was you who got into trouble without me to look after you," he said, smirking.

"Get a room already," Solo grumbled, wincing at he plopped down beside Gaby, now holding a large handful of gauze against his bloody forehead.

"We have a room," Gaby quipped, earning a supportive chuckle from her Russian. "One with a bed that I'd very much like to lay down in."

Standing, Illya released her hands and leaned against the helicopter next to Gaby. His left hand came to rest on her shoulder, rubbing it absentmindedly as the three of them watched a second helicopter land and Waverly stroll out of it.

"An admirable job team," he greeted, his eyes scanning their faces. "Unfortunately while you managed to save our Gaby here, there's a slight problem."

"What?" Illya murmured, watching Gaby's boss expectantly.

"Wrong warhead."

Letting out an exasperated breath, Illya's eyes drifted over to Solo who was shaking his head. "Perfect."

"What is the plan?" Gaby asked, surprising them all by being the first one to speak up.

"If you're feeling up to it," Waverly said, gesturing they follow him as he turned and headed back to the helicopter he had just come from.

Helping Gaby stand, Illya once again wrapped an arm around her for support as the three agents made their way towards the waiting helicopter. "How are you doing over there, Cowboy?"

"Never better, Peril," Solo answered instantly, smirking. Shaking his head, Illya aided Gaby in stepping up into the helicopter before holding out a hand for Solo as well. "Don't be absurd," the American grumbled, slapping the Russian's hand away as he struggled to get into the helicopter on his own.

Sitting down in the seat beside Gaby, Illya moved to grab his headset, but the German girl already had it in her hands, holding it out for him. "Thank you," he murmured, accepting it and putting it on.

"Buckle up," she breathed, gesturing towards his seatbelt. Illya rolled his eyes at her, snapping the safety device into place before stretching out his back and settling in to the small space. Sighing, Gaby laid her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. "Wake me when we get to where we're going," she said sleepily.

Kuryakin stared down at the German girl next to him and couldn't help the small smile that slid onto his face. There was still a bomb out there they needed to find, but she was safe, and somehow despite his best efforts, that was the most important thing.

"I have an idea," Gaby spoke up, earning everyone's attention.

"And just what would that be?" Waverly asked, his interest grabbed by his agent.

Gaby felt her nerves rising with all eyes on her and all the pressure of the situation. "When I was on the island, a scientist explained to me how the two bombs work. There is a tracking device within each that allows it to lock onto the other. Something about maximizing the damage- I don't-" Gaby sighed in frustration, rubbing her aching head.

"It is alright," Illya whispered in her ear as he gave her shoulder a supportive squeeze. "Take a deep breath."

"And this scientist?" Solo questioned, giving Gaby a supportive smile. "Did he explain further how it works?"

"No," Gaby said, sighing. "But we could ask him." When everyone stared at her like she was crazy, Gaby gestured over her shoulder. "I saw him on deck when we first landed."

Giving her a bright smile, Waverly looked around the control room. "Excellent! Let's get Victoria Vinciguerra's ship on the radio and while we do that, Kuryakin, would you mind terribly taking Gaby down to see our scientist?"

"Come," Illya murmured, his arm sliding to the small of Gaby's back as he guided her from the control room.

"What if he won't do what we want?" Gaby asked nervously, fidgeting next to Illya as they headed for the ships holding cells.

Giving her a wry look, Illya shook his head. "He will."

"How can you be so sure?"

Illya smiled down at her. "I am sure." Stopping, Illya nodded to the holding cell full of scientists. "Pick out your scientist, little chop shop girl."

Turning to the cell, Gaby squinted in at them. "Him," she said, pointing a scientist in the back who was trying and failing at fading into the background.

"You." Pointing at the scientist in question as the others quickly moved away from him, the KGB agent stepped into the doorway of the cell that had just been opened. "Come here."

The scientist glanced around at the others in the cell as if he were looking for someone to come to his aid. No one did. "H-how can I help you?" he asked, hesitatingly stepping forward.

Grabbing the scientist by the scruff of his neck, Illya marched him out and down the hallway to an open room, shoving him towards where the bomb had been laid out by the crew of the ship. Crossing his arms over his chest as he stood towering over the scientist, Illya set his jaw firmly in place. "I don't understand…" the scientist said, looking around under he saw Gaby again. "What does he want?"

"You told me about the bombs, about how they can lock on to each other," Gaby explained, stepping forward.

"The homing beacon," the scientist nodded.

"Yes, that." Glancing over her shoulder at her silent Russian enforcer, she looked back to the scientist. "We are going to need you to turn that on."

Looking as if she'd purposed something funny, the scientist shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head. "I'd like to help you Miss Teller, but I can't. Victoria would kill me if-"

"Victoria isn't here," Gaby interrupted, taking a step forward, her hand coming to rest atop the bomb. "However my friend over there is here, and we would like you to turn it on."

When the scientist remained stationary, his eyes locked on Illya's imposing form, the Russian decided to help Gaby out a bit. "Now," he breathed, causing the scientist to jump.

Taking a few steps back to stand beside him, Gaby looked Illya over. "You were quite menacing just now," she murmured, earning a small smile.

"You were not terrible," he replied, keeping his eyes trained on the scientist as he worked.

"Not terrible?" Gaby questioned. "I thought I did well."

Shrugging, Illya spared her a glance. "Not bad, but room for improvement." Rolling her eyes, Gaby elbowed him gently in the ribs. "Be careful," Illya chuckled quietly, coughing under his breath.

"Oh, I'm so sorry Illya," Gaby apologized, her hands coming to gently rest against his injured side. "Are you alright?"

Nodding, Illya's smile reached his eyes. "I will be alright. It has just been very long twenty four hours."

"Yes it has," Gaby breathed.

"All finished," the scientist announced, earning both of their attention again.

"Good," Illya growled, grabbing him by the arm and pushing him towards two armed naval officers. "Put him back with his friends."

Gaby watched as personnel from the ship carted the bomb off to be loaded up as Illya guided her back towards command. "Now what?" she asked.

"Now we hope it works," Illya said, shrugging.

Illya and Gaby stood listening to Solo's speech side by side in the crowded control room. The American spy definitely had a talent for speaking that was for certain. When the bomb hit Vinciguerra's ship, it was like everyone on board let out a collective nervous breath they were unaware of holding. Gaby slunk back into an empty seat, completely exhausted, her head falling into her hands.

Clapping his hands together, Waverly looked around the room with pride. "Well done, team! Excellent work!" He was met with three very tired faces. "Right, ok. Can we get the chopper ready please?" he asked, turning to a crewmember. "I think these three have earned a little rest."

The whole way back to the hotel, Gaby was slumped over next to Illya, her head resting on his shoulder and his around her, keeping her in place. From his place across from them in the taxi, Solo watched as Illya's head slumped to the side himself several times before finally remaining propped up against hers, his eyes closed.

It was an odd and somewhat unsettling sight for Solo to see the giant, superhuman Russian, his face calm and relaxed as he slept. Solo narrowed his eyes at the pair in front of him. It had only been a handful of days since he'd sent Gaby off to Rome with the Red Peril. She had hated him then. Pursing his lips together, his eyes fell to where her left hand was resting on his leg.

Solo knew the Russian had the strangest, almost innocent crush on Gaby, but never had it occurred to him that she could be harboring feelings for the colossal, obstinate Russian as well.

"Stop." His eyes darted up to where the Russian's grey orbs were piercing into his. Apparently he wasn't so asleep after all.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Solo breathed, shrugging.

Narrowing slightly, Illya's eyes were sharp and held a warning. "I think you do."

"Please," Napoleon said, gesturing for Illya to speak. "Enlighten me."

Illya moved to sit up straight but his eyes fell on Gaby's sleeping form and he exhaled loudly, slumping back down. "You are staring at me."

"What did I miss here?" Solo asked, grinning as he gestured between the Russian and sleeping German girl.

Scoffing, the Russian rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You say that quite a bit, do you know that?" Sitting forward in his chair, Solo smiled broadly. "You do know, however, but by all means, keep your little secrets. I'm a spy. I'll figure it out soon enough."

The Russian laughed outright, wincing when Gaby stirred beside him. "Are we there already?" she moaned, rubbing her eyes and yawning as she set up.

"No, you can go back to sleep," Illya murmured quietly as his eyes scanned her sleepy expression.

"That's alright. I'm awake now," Gaby said, yawning again. "What did I miss?"

"What indeed." Instantly the two male spy's eyes snapped to each other, Illya's flashing a warning as Solo's mischievously twinkled. "Nothing much," Solo said shrugging. "Just a little spy talk. Speaking of which, don't think I've let you off the hook for lying to me."

"I didn't lie," Gaby said defensively. "I just didn't volunteer information."

"Spoken like a true spy," Napoleon smirked, glancing out the window. "I still cannot believe I didn't even suspect a thing," he murmured to himself, rubbing the beginning of beard stubble that was forming on his chin.

Illya rolled his eyes as he retracted his arm, crossing them over his chest as the three fell into silence.

The rest of the ride to the hotel was spent in that awkward quiet that so often settled between them. When the car pulled up in front of the hotel, Illya practically sprinted out of it and muttered about having to finish up with something before he had to leave.

"Well, that was uncomfortable." Napoleon offered Gaby his hand, helping her out of the car before effortlessly tucking her hand into the crook of his arm, escorting her into the hotel. "How are you feeling?" he asked quietly, sparing a small, cheerful smile to a couple as they passed.

Sighing, Gaby shrugged. "I think I'm numb. How's your head?"

Nodding, Solo pressed the call button for the elevator. "Presently I can't say, however I plan on having a few very stiff drinks and reevaluating the situation."

"I'm sorry," she apologized as the doors to the elevator slid open.

Leading her inside, Napoleon pressed the button for the seventh floor before shooting Gaby a quizzical look. "For what?"

"I can't help but feel responsible for the way things happened today," Gaby frowned, tears pricking in her eyes.

"No, no, no. Don't you cry-" A dinging noise signaled before the elevator doors slid open, revealing a young couple. They took a step into the elevator before Napoleon held up his hands, ushering them back out. "I apologize for the inconvenience, but we're going to need a moment."

"What?" the man asked as the door closed in their confused faces.

Hitting the emergency stop button, Solo turned to Gaby, his arms crossing his chest and his face judgmental. "Why on Earth do you think anything that happened today was your fault?"

"I could've told you. I could've told Illya," she breathed, blinking away her tears. "I should've told you both. Because of me you're both injured and could be dead."

"It's hardly because of you," Napoleon contradicted, rolling his eyes. "There was a madman with a bomb, a bomb that we assumed was the right one. Well, the only one." Gaby opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it, closing her mouth instead. "Admit that I'm right and stop beating yourself up." When she silently nodded, averting her gaze, Solo wagered a guess as to her thoughts. Leaning forward again, Solo hit the button and the elevator resumed its upward course.

"Gaby, if Kuryakin wants to make careless mistakes, that's hardly your fault." Gaby's eyes snapped up to meet Napoleon's bright blue ones. "That's what happened," he said, shrugging. "Peril put himself between the edge of a ravine and Vinciguerra's Jeep. If you hadn't been in the car, there's no doubt in my mind things would've gone down much differently. He made that choice on his own."

"I don't think-" the elevator dinged, cutting Gaby off.

Gesturing for her to exit before him, Napoleon followed her the short distance down the hallway to her room, his hands folded behind his back. Solo waited patiently as Gaby reached into her pockets for her room key and coming up with nothing. Groaning, she leaned her head against the door to her room. "Why can't today just be over?" she asked herself quietly.

Gently maneuvering her out of the way, Solo produced a small tool from his pocket and within seconds the door was open. "Napoleon, you are a dream," Gaby breathed, sighing out of relief and planting a kiss on his cheek as she passed by him into her suite.

Straightening up, the American spy cleared his through before stepping into the threshold of the suite. "Well, I'll leave you to your packing and rest. It's been quite the day."

Gaby turned and stared at him sadly from across the suite. "Thank you, Napoleon."

"Whatever for?" Solo asked, confused by her repetitive thanks.

"For getting me out of East Berlin. For saving my life. For being a good friend," she listed, smiling fondly at him.

Self consciously glancing down at his shoes, Napoleon Solo nodded to himself. Much like the Russian, he too had emotional triggers. Unlike Kuryakin, whenever anyone elicited emotions in him, he shut down, not fired up and destroyed the place. "Anytime, Miss Teller. Day or night, I'm at your disposal."

Closing the door to the Russian spy and German girl's suite, Napoleon strolled down the hallway, his brain tumbling over several things. As he waited for the elevator, Napoleon glanced back in the direction he'd come from, smiling in fondness. Never did he think that the girl from a car shop in East Berlin would turn out to be such a charming, entertaining person; a friend. A friend, Solo mused. He wasn't unfamiliar with the word, just its practical application. A female friend, nonetheless. What was happening to him?

The ding of the elevator brought him back to what he was doing at present and he chuckled quietly to himself as he turned back to face it.

"What is that look for?"

His smile dissipating, Solo sighed. "How is it that you consistently manage to show up out of nowhere?"

Shrugging, the tall Russian stepped out of the elevator and glanced down at the shorter American. "A gift, perhaps."

"A gift," Solo repeated, feeling it trigger something he wanted to remember. "Peril," Napoleon called after his Russian counterpart, causing him to stop in his movements. "How about a drink for old time sake? Grab Gaby and come up to my room in say… twenty minutes?"

Giving him a small smile, Illya nodded. "Ok."

Unlocking the door to their suite, Illya stood facing the closed door. He knew when he opened it he would be seeing Gaby for what was most likely the last time. Reaching for the handle to open the door, the Russian spy froze. What did he say? What should he do? Should he say or do anything at all?

Sighing, he turned the handle and opened the door, gracefully stepping inside.

"Oh good, you're back," Gaby greeted casually, as she padded past him in a little white dress and bare feet. "Did you get everything you needed to get done?"

Watching her flutter around made Illya's heart ache. Kuryakin had found himself captured by Gaby Teller so quickly and completely. Now he found himself faced with saying goodbye to someone he'd become very fond of. Illya didn't have people he was fond of. He knew his life without her would feel empty and dark, just like before. An endless series of nameless faces and tasks to complete.

"Yes… thank you," he murmured, un-zipping his jacket but not taking it off. Glancing into their bedroom he saw his suitcase sitting on his bed full of folded clothes and his suits hanging up in their bag. "You packed my things?" he asked.

Pausing in her own packing, Gaby glanced over her shoulder at him, her face guarded. "I didn't know when you would be back or when you have to leave, so I wanted to be helpful."

"No it's- nice. Thank you," Illya nodded, his face stoic as he watched her resume her work. Several times while he stood there in the living room, his hands folded behind his back, he opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself every time. Finally he walked away to where his equipment was sitting out on the table by the window and started packing it away.

Gaby finished packing and half-carried half-dragged her bags into the living room, unbeknownst to Illya. When she'd gotten her bags close to the door, Gaby stood and watched her Russian roommate. His current state made her sad. He seemed so withdrawn, like he was trying to isolate himself in the corner of the room as he packed his spy gear meticulously, every so often she'd catch him muttering to himself in Russian.

"My father used to warn me about frowning like that," she murmured, approaching slowly. Placing his last tool into his bag, Illya turned to face her. Before he could ask the question that was on the tip of her tongue, Gaby gave him a small smile, shaking her head. "Not him. My real father. My foster father, I suppose."

Illya nodded, a rueful smile coming to his lips. "And what did he say?"

Smiling fondly at the memory, Gaby's eyes drifted to the ceiling as she recalled it. "He used to say, Gabriella," she breathed, changing her voice to imitate her German mechanic father, "if you concentrate too hard your face will stay scrunched like that." Chuckling, she looked back to the Russian in front of her. Reaching up, she pushed his serious brow up. "Don't ruin your handsome face with frown lines, Illya."

Snorting out a laugh, the Russian crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at the German girl who had entirely caught him off guard. "Are you all packed?"

"I think so," she sighed, glancing over her shoulder to where her luggage sat. "Are you?"

Nodding, his smile fell. "Thanks to you I am much closer than I thought I'd be."

"I'm sorry." Gaby half blurted out, her face showing her regret.

"For what?" Illya asked, confused.

"For not telling you," she murmured, blinking up as he turned to mess with his bag. "I wanted to tell you so many times, but-"

"I understand completely," Illya said, shrugging and sparing her a glance. "I would've done the same thing."

Gaby pursed her lips together as she watched him move, nodding to herself. She didn't know how to say goodbye and the longer she dragged this out the harder it was getting, especially since he was clearly shutting down on her. "Well, I called the bellhop so he should be here shortly," she said, earning his attention.

Illya seemed to be searching for the words as his eyes scanned her face. "What is next for you? Where will you go?"

"I know I'm not going back to Germany," she said, shaking her head. "Where are you off to?"

"Back home," he said, giving a smile that didn't touch his eyes. "I am sorry about your father."

Gaby bit the inside of her cheek as she attempted to control her emotions. "Don't be. I lost him a long time ago."

Nodding in understanding, Illya gave her a sad smile. "Yet I am sorry all the same."

They held each other's gaze for a minute before something clicked with Gaby. "Oh, I almost forgot." Holding her hand up, Gaby pulled the ring off her engagement finger. Prying his arms apart from their crossed position, Gaby grabbed his left hand and placed the ring in his palm. "I believe this belongs to you."

Illya gazed down at the ring in his hand for a moment before grabbing her left hand in his, slipping the ring back on. "No, you keep it," he breathed, his hand holding onto hers as their eyes met. "It suits you and it will make keeping track of you much easier."

"Why would you want to do that?" Their lips were drifting closer and closer together, and as they did, Gaby couldn't help but feel her breath becoming more rapid. "Keep track of me, that is."

"In case you get into trouble." He was so close now it was like they were breathing the same air.

A sharp knock on the door caused them both to jump apart. "That's probably the bellboy," Gaby breathed, turning to get the door. Illya sighed in aggravation as she let the two lobby boys in and instructed them where to take her luggage.

"Cowboy has invited us up to his room for a drink," Illya tried, stepping forward to engage her in conversation again.

Gaby gave him a small smile, shaking her head. "I'm afraid I can't. I have to meet Waverly."

"Well I-" Illya started but the telephone rang. Glaring over his shoulder at it, he turned back to Gaby only to have it naggingly continue to ring. "I'm sorry," he apologized before grabbing it.

Gaby listened as he began speaking quickly and quietly in Russian with whoever it was and frowned, saddened by how their goodbye was turning out. Then a thought came to her. She could fix it. It would be better if they didn't say goodbye, not like this. No, she would see him again, she was sure of it. The universe clearly had other ideas about letting them be together, so perhaps she should listen.

Giving him a small, silent wave, Gaby turned and followed the bellboys out of the suite, missing the disappointment on his face when Illya turned to find Gaby had already gone.

Solo had the records. Solo had what his government wanted. He had to get what they wanted or he would be shipped off to an internment camp like his father.

Hearing Oleg speak of his father was the tipping point. Illya had been collecting stress and anxiety this entire mission and now Gaby was gone and he was all alone in the large, lavish suite. All alone. All alone again. Always alone.

Illya's right hand instinctively went to push his left sleeve up to check the time on his father's watch only to realize it was gone. His naked wrist was like a slap in the face. Breathing heavily, Illya's shaky hands slid down his legs to rest atop his knees as he focused on his breathing, all the while his fingers tapping at a mad pace.

In. He is one screw-up from living out his days in a Siberian gulag. That is if they do not decide to just outright kill him. Out. He might have to kill the man he owes his life to. In. He didn't even have a chance to say goodbye to Gaby much less tell her how he felt. Now he would never see her again. Out.

There was a ringing in his ears as he stood up to his full height, shaking his head in an attempt to stop the noise. Unable to control his rage any longer, the Russian grabbed the telephone and ripping it from the wall, whipped it across the room before turning towards the rest of the unsuspecting furniture.

After he had destroyed everything within arms reach, he straightened up, still breathing heavily as he exited the suite. One flight of stairs and a short hallway brought him to Napoleon Solo's door.

Blinking, his eyes shifted to his raised, open hand that was poised to knock. It was shaking so badly he couldn't even make a fist. His hands dropped to in front of him and they came into better focus as he took in their appearance. Scratched, bruised and bloody; they looked as bad as he felt. Staring at the door, Illya swallowed hard, forcing his hands to still before knocking.

"It's open."

Suppressing all of the emotions that were threatening to boil over again, Illya moved through the suite, every step calculated as he stopped in front of Solo's mini bar, watching him continue to fold things and place them into his suitcase. "No Gaby?" Solo asked, not bothering to look up from what he's doing.

"No," the Russian murmured, his left eye twitching at the mention of Gaby. "She had to go see Waverly."

"That's too bad," Napoleon said, frowning. "Why don't you pour us some drinks? I think we've earned them."

Reaching forward, Illya poured two drinks, raising his to his lips but deciding against it and setting it down. He watched as Solo dug through his suitcase, unzipping his jacket and sliding his hand to his holstered gun.

"I almost forgot. Here!"

Jumping and removing his hand from his gun, Illya blinked down at the timepiece the American had just thrown to him. Shooting Solo a look of disbelief, Illya flipped the watch over to look at the inscription on the back. As quickly as his fingers would allow, Illya latched it to his wrist. "But, how?" he stuttered, unable to believe it.

"I found it on the island," Solo murmured, lifting his folded jacket off of his footstool to reveal the data backup. "I think you were a little preoccupied looking for something- or rather someone- of higher value. But I know how much it means to you, so I couldn't just leave it there." Setting his jaw in a firm line, Illya's eyes flickered down to the backup and then back to Solo. "I'm guessing your bosses told you to get this from me and I'm betting they told you to kill me if you have to."

Nodding, Illya's sharp eyes didn't move from Napoleon, watching him like a hawk. "So what do we do?" the American spy asked, his hands sliding effortlessly into his pockets. "I don't particularly want to kill you today."

"What makes you think you could?" Illya breathed, not giving anything away.

Shrugging, Solo smirked. "So I repeat. What do we do?"

Illya pursed his lips in thought as he looked at the tape. "I have an idea."

"I'm all ears, Peril."

After knocking on Waverly's door, Gaby folded her arms behind her back and waited patiently for him to answer. "Ah Gaby, come in. Come in," Waverly smiled, holding the door open for her and gesturing for her to enter. Gaby stepped into Waverly's modest suite. "Sit, please," he murmured, unbuttoning his jacket and sitting.

Sitting herself, Gaby did her best to appear pleasant and in good spirits. "How can I help you Sir?"

"Oh you don't have to call me Sir," Waverly said, literally waving off her formalities. "Well you can if you'd like. Or you can call me Waverly," he chuckled, shrugging. "How are you feeling my dear girl? You look a little worse for the wear."

"I'm alright," Gaby sighed, rubbing her sore, scraped arm. "Thank you for coming to get me."

"Of course," Waverly nodded, "but I cannot accept full credit for your rescue. You definitely have acquired two very dedicated admirers, Gaby Teller."

Gaby self-consciously looked down at her fingernails. "Yes well…"

Waverly gave her an all-knowing smile. "So I was hoping we could spend a little time discussing your future. Do you know what your next step is?"

"I know that I am not going back to Germany," Gaby said honestly. "Other than that, I really hadn't given it much serious thought. I was just trying to make it through this last mission."

"Fair enough," Waverly nodded, folding his hands in his lap. "Is there any chance I can convince you to come work for me as a sort of full time gig?"

Gaby's eyebrows raised in shock. "But I'm not a spy. At least not really."

"True, but you have natural talent, Gaby, and your skill set would make you ideal for my team." Waverly gave her a wry smile. "If you have interest in building your skill set, we most certainly can do that. If you are comfortable where you're at, I am perfectly confident that you will be a valuable asset as is as well."

Gaby shifted in her seat as she thought over what he said. "I'm not sure I would be any good," she murmured.

"You would be perfect. I need someone who is calm and in control under pressure, someone who is personable but doesn't let others walk all over them," Waverly explained, his eyes dancing. "I need someone who is intelligent yet street smart who can drive like a pro." Gaby looked like she was being swayed and Waverly went in for the kill. "What do you say, Teller? Give it a go."

Sighing, she flashed a self conscious smile. "I don't think I'm all those things, but I suppose I'm willing to try."

"Excellent!" Slapping his hand on his knee, Waverly stood. "I think we should pop upstairs and have a little chat with your boys."

"Sir?" Gaby called, standing and walking after him as they exited his suite. "What about my luggage? The bellhop-"

"It's a good thing you said yes because I'd already taken the liberty of having your luggage sent to our next destination." Pushing the call button for the elevator, Waverly smiled over at her. "Great shoes by the way."

Glancing down at her feet, Gaby smiled. "Napoleon picked them out."

Shaking his head, Waverly stepped into the elevator. "That man has impeccable taste, doesn't he?"

"Shouldn't we knock?" Gaby asked, hesitantly following Waverly into Solo's suite, nervously looking around. She didn't want to have to do goodbyes again, but apparently she didn't have a choice in the matter.

Glancing around, Waverly looked at the open door to the patio. "I do believe they're outside." Stepping out into the sunshine, Waverly slipped on his sunglasses. "Well this is a welcome sight to be sure."

Stopping just inside the doorway, Gaby tapped her sunglasses nervously into the palm of her hand. Taking a deep breath, she slipped them on and put on her game face. If she was going to be a spy she'd need to learn how to control her emotions. "No time like the present," she breathed.

Heals clicking on the stone of the patio drew Illya's passive attention from Waverly to where Gaby was approaching. Clearing his throat under his breath and straightening up, Illya tried to appear casual as he leaned back against the railing. She said nothing, but they held each other's gaze for several moments before she looked away, trying to hide her smile.

"I thought you three ended up working very well together," Waverly was saying by the time Illya and Gaby began listening again. "So much so that I have worked out a little arrangement."

"What kind of arrangement?" Illya asked, not sure he was liking the direction Waverly was headed.

"I'm glad you asked, Kuryakin. Your bosses have generously agreed to let me borrow you on loan and since Gaby here has just signed on, that makes us all one big happy family."

Solo's jaw went slack at the news, blinking blankly over at Waverly who was now his new boss. He was now partners- officially, full time- with Illya Kuryakin, the Russian superhuman. The Red Peril. And just when he was starting to like him... "This is very hard for me to believe," Illya challenged, his face neutral, but Gaby knew better. The spot just under his right eye had twitched.

"Feel free to call your superiors to confirm everything I'm saying, but you three are now my team." Smiling proudly, Waverly gave them a good once over before clapping his hands together. "I will leave you three to get reacquainted, but we leave for the airport in an hour."

"Where are we going?" Gaby asked, speaking up for the first time since the bomb dropped.

"Istanbul," he nodded, turning on his heal and heading inside. "Oh, and you have a new code name. U.N.C.L.E."

"Uncle?" Solo grumbled, not liking the way it sounded. Then again, he wasn't really liking anything Waverly was saying.

They all watched Waverly exit in silence before sparing each other a look. Illya scoffed, setting his glass of scotch down and moving to follow the British spymaster without a word, leaving Solo and Gaby on the patio alone.

Sighing, Gaby reached forward and scooped up the Russian's discarded drink, downing it. Solo raised his eyebrows, impressed. "What? He wasn't coming back for it," she said, shrugging.

"No, I wasn't judging, merely observing," Napoleon mused, pouring her a refill. "Please, drink up. I don't want to drink alone and I plan on drinking quite a few after that announcement." Holding up his glass, he saluted her before gulping it all down and refilling his glass nearly to the rim.

Taking a sip of her fresh drink, Gaby winced at its strength. "That was quite the shock, wasn't it?"

"Yes, yes it was," the American breathed, sipping his scotch and glancing out over the city. "You didn't know this was coming?"

"No," Gaby sighed, shrugging. "It was news to me too." Nodding, Napoleon finished off his drink before pouring another, remaining silent. The longer they stood alone on the patio gazing out over the city in silence the more tension Gaby felt. Glancing towards Solo's suite, she gestured over her shoulder. "Do you think he's coming back?"

"Ever?" Solo quipped. Looking away from the scenery, Napoleon Solo squinted through the brightness to stare at his friend. "You know, you never can be sure with Russians, that one in particular. He's quite the enigma."

"I suppose so," Gaby pondered aloud, taking a large sip of her drink.

Solo watched her carefully before speaking, trying to plan his words accordingly. "Since it sounds like the three of us will soon be a semi-permanent unit, I feel the need to pry." Gaby raised an eyebrow questioningly at the American's words. "I'm just going to ask. What is going on between you and my best pal, Kuryakin?"

"Nothing," Gaby murmured, keeping her face neutral. "Why, did he say there was?"

"Not in so many words, no. You know Peril isn't particularly fond of words," Napoleon said, trying to be as diplomatic as possible. He didn't know whom he would have a harder time getting information out of between the two of them. Solo was betting the Russian, but the German girl before him was quite formidable as well. "I couldn't help but notice his infatuation with you though." He watched her face closely for tells but couldn't pick anything out. Point for her. "For a hard, cold hearted Russian- which he most certainly is- he sure did warm up to you. And rather quickly, I might add. I feel the need to inform you that he was rather crushed when we thought you'd betrayed us, so we now know he is capable of feelings other than anger, annoyance and my personal favorite, rage-monster."

Keeping it passive, Gaby gave a half shrug. "Weren't you upset when you thought I'd used you?"

"Yes, so imagine my surprise when he not only seemed more upset than me, but he actually argued that your betrayal of him was worse than your betrayal of yours truly," Solo said, moving to sit across from her at the small café table. "Me. Can you imagine? I'm the one who found you and brought you into this. I felt-feel," he correctly quickly, "quite responsible for you and I thought you were an innocent, sweet young woman. Turns out you're quite the gifted little actress, Miss Teller." Giving a comical gesture, Napoleon took another sip, relishing in the warmth it was giving him. "And when he saved me from your uncle-"

"I'm sorry, what?" Gaby sputtered, spitting out her drink. Leaning forward, Solo offered her his handkerchief. Dapping the corner of her mouth demurely, Gaby set her glass down. "My uncle? What on Earth was he doing?"

"A little unwilling electroshock therapy. You know, I've been told I would benefit from therapy, but after that I'm not sure I'm willing to give it another go," Napoleon chuckled into his drink, enjoying that he could laugh about one of the worst experiences he'd had in a long while. "I suppose this is a rather bad time to share this piece of information, but since I've already started us down this road and there really isn't an ideal time… your Uncle Rudi is slightly deceased."

"Slightly deceased?" Gaby asked, her eyes narrowing at Solo.

Pursing his lips before taking another sip, Napoleon blinked over at his German friend. "I suppose slightly deceased could be misinterpreted." When he didn't continue, Gaby raised an eyebrow expectantly. "He's dead."

Her face remained stoically blank as she stared back at him. "How?" she asked quietly.

For the next thirty minutes Napoleon Solo shared with Gaby what she had missed, completely catching her up. As he spoke, they continued to drink. By the end, they were laughing boisterously. "You know, I didn't think of this as a particularly funny story, but I'm just relieved you're not crying," Napoleon chuckled, pouring the rest of the decanter evenly into each of the glasses before leaning forward and clinking them together.

"I just- I can't believe it," Gaby sighed, holding her side as she tried not to laugh while taking a sip. "My Uncle Rudi was insane, literally insane. He was a crazy person," Gaby snorted into her drink. "Did you say he was a serial killer?"

"Yes, apparently several, although I'd only ever heard of the one," Solo nodded, his face cheerful as he took a gulp of his drink before his eyes widened. "Uh oh.

"Uh oh?" Gaby said, not getting it as she took another sip. "Uh oh what?"

Napoleon did his best to compose himself but let out a muffled chuckle. "I think we're in trouble."

Gaby turned in her seat to see Illya standing with his arms crossed over his chest, his face displeased. "What is this?" he murmured, addressing Napoleon directly.

Turning back around in her seat, Gaby giggled under her breath, pointing over her shoulder to Illya. Solo shrugged. "My Russian friend, Gaby and I are having a drink before we have to leave for the airport. You know, you should really have a drink. It will take the edge off." His eyes falling to the empty bottle, Solo comically winced. "I'm afraid we're all out out here on the patio, but you're more than welcome to anything you find at the minibar inside."

"Is that what you're doing? Taking the edge off?" Illya hissed, his frown deepening as he watched Gaby take another sip of her drink. Scoffing, he leaned forward and swiped it from her. When she stood and reached for it, Illya poured it over the balcony.

"Hey!" she cried, shooting him an angry glare. From below came shouts of Italian profanities, but the Russian ignored them. Leaning over the railing, Gaby turned back to the Russian. "There are people down there you know."

"That was expensive," Solo grumbled, sitting up straighter in his chair.

"I do not care." Holding out his hand Illya waited for Gaby to take it.

Gaby frowned down at it, slapping it away as he reached for her. "Where were you anyway?"

Pursing his lips together as he tried to control his temper, Illya took a deep, calming breath. "I had to make a phone call." Napoleon snorted at the answer, taking another sip of his drink. The Russian's upper lip twitched in anger as he glared over at his American partner. "We are leaving soon. You should try to get yourself together."

"I am together," Gaby frowned, looking around as if she'd find pieces of herself on the patio.

"Come, we are leaving," Illya breathed, grabbing Gaby's arm and pulling her towards Napoleon's suite.

"I thought you just said we had some time!" Solo called, standing hastily and jogging to catch up with them.

Glaring over at him, Illya removed his sunglasses as they entered the suite. "Get yourself together," he repeated to Solo, frowning as Gaby pulled her arm from him and flopped onto the couch. Sighing, his hands went to his hips, as he looked down at her in exasperation. "You are acting like petulant child."

Standing between them and off to the side, Solo's eyes shifted between the other two members of his team with a goofy grin plastered on his face. "Why didn't you tell me?" Gaby asked, standing and walking right up to the Russian spy.

"Why didn't I tell you what?" he asked, his hands still firmly on his hips.

"That my uncle tried to kill Napoleon?" Gaby looked up at him definitely. "That he was some sort of deranged serial killer… for decades apparently. Or that he's dead?"

Kuryakin sighed, reaching forward and placing his hands on her shoulders. "I did not want to upset you further. You just found out about your father and-"

"Did you think I wasn't strong enough to handle it?" she asked.

Shaking his head, Illya's left hand came up to cup Gaby's cheek. "Of course you are strong enough, but I did not want to burden you."

"What is happening?" Solo whispered to himself, shaking his head and walking back into his bedroom to quickly fold and pack the rest of his things.

Not paying attention to their American team member, Gaby's eyes drifted closed and she took a step forward, closing the space between her and Illya to rest her head against his chest as his arms encircled her. "Are you going to be alright?" the Russian spy breathed into her hair, kissing the top of her head lightly as if he'd done it a thousand times.

Gaby nodded, her arms coming around his waist. "What's in Istanbul, Illya?" she murmured, her voice distant and dreamy.

"That Hagia Sophia," Illya murmured, smiling when Gaby's laughter filled his ears and shook his chest.

That's all for now, folks! If you enjoyed this little side adventure, stay tuned for the sequel! I hope you enjoyed it.