A quickie because I've wanted to write to the song Is there somewhere by Halsey for forever and I haven't posted anything new in forever and I'm sorry. It's short and to the point, but I think it's a nice character study all the same. Blame my writing classes for making me write so much flash fiction.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.


Napoleon Solo knows how to play a role. He knows how to observe, how to react. He knows when its best to be the irresistible ladies man and when to be the compliant agent.

He does not know how to be a man in love.

Sometimes when they're on a mission and Illya and Gaby are playing a couple, he'll watch them and try to mimic their expressions. The tenderness in their eyes, the faintest smiles, the compulsive need to touch each other ever so gently. He tries to imagine himself staring at a woman that way, looking at her and only seeing the sun and stars and universe. But then he blinks and he's left with reality and a charming smile.

The worst moments, the ones where he regrets his womanizing ways and wishes he'd held onto a girl for longer than three nights, are when he and Gaby are paired together on a mission. They can tease each other and call each other pet names all day, but when they're on the dance floor, he knows she's imagining him as Illya because everything about her softens and she's looking at him like he's the universe and he can't bear it. The expression on his face, whatever it may be, is no competition for the look of love on hers.

He tries — God, he tries. He studies Illya a little more closely, tries to pinpoint exactly how far Gaby turns towards Illya and how much he needs to face her in turn. He talks to women and takes them to dinner and tries to find something with a future, but then they're whisked away to a new city and he's left to start over again.

He doesn't give up hope until the night he sees them kiss.

He's happy when they do — waiting for Illya and Gaby to come together was like waiting for an icicle to melt in the arctic — but the image of them pressed together stains his brain like red wine. Because now their love isn't just in looks and touches. It's in the air and streets and bubble around them. He jokes that it's about damn time and says that he's happy for them and repeats his earlier sentiment about how long it took.

But he stops watching them.

Napoleon resigns himself to a life of solitude, to a life on the go and with no promises of tomorrow. It isn't perfect — far from it — but it's a good lifestyle for him. He can be a diligent agent. He can be a womanizer. He can be a million things.

If his only fault is that he can't be in love, he can live with that.


Hope you guys like it. Like I said, it was just a quick little thing while I work on longer stuff. Hopefully I'll have more for everyone soon. In the meantime, thanks to everyone for all the reviews and favorites on my other works! Seeing those emails every day makes things a little bit brighter.