Deception

Chapter 1

Gaby wasn't sure why she had decided to take up with the attractive Russian who had turned up on her garage's doors with a sheepish look on his face and a busted up car. The explanation that he had rear-ended a tank really should not have been so endearing, and years later Gaby couldn't quite remember what had drawn her to him in the first place. By all accounts, she should have avoided him like the plague and she lets herself consider that maybe it was loneliness. Those years in East Berlin after her foster father's death are not remembered fondly, and the greatest feeling she remembers was the crushing sense of isolation- not able to form any meaningful connections with anyone else, and too distrustful to try. Perhaps that was why she had spent a solid week flirting and charming her way into the Russian's bed, his half-hearted protests that he would only be staying in the city for a couple of months only providing her with an even better reason to use him and his touch to chase away her sadness.

She knew from the start that their relationship had an end date, when his employers would inevitably call him back to Moscow, and she reminded herself every time he held her that this was temporary and she should not grow attached. She lied to herself often during those months, pretending that her feelings for him were limited to fondness and affection and she could almost see the same false thoughts running through his head. Regardless of the ways they tried to deceive themselves, that date kept approaching and she could feel a slight desperation in their nights together, a surprisingly strong need to commit these moments to memory before they were over forever.

Lying in bed beside him one day, watching his face peaceful with sleep she had felt an overwhelming desire to ask him to quit his job and stay, but the words caught in her throat and she never uttered them out-loud, choosing instead to bury her face into a pillow to muffle her cries. The next day she banished away those thoughts and busied herself around the kitchen making him a coffee and joking about how long it would be until he replaced her once he left, ignoring the trace of bitterness that laced her voice as she said it with false joviality. He hadn't laughed and had looked at her seriously as he replied that he doubted it would be that easy. For a moment she had let her mask slip and they had both looked at each other for a long moment, both realising at the same time that they had made a mistake with this relationship. It would not be easy to move on from this, they could both lie to themselves as much as they wanted but their inevitable parting would still be painful.

Perhaps their parting would have been as awful as they thought, but due to a stroke of chance they were never able to find out. The week before Illya was due to leave, Gaby turned up at his flat pale and trembling. He had not been surprised to see her, their meetings had increased in frequency until they were daily what with their awareness of the approaching end, but her state had not been expected and he ushered her into the flat and sat her down with a warm cup of tea. Kneeling before her seated position and looking at her with such concern had not made things any easier for her, the confession that had been on her lips delayed by her sudden inability to speak.

"What is it Gaby? What happened?" Illya asked, taking one of her hands between his.

"You can't leave." She managed to say, hating how choked up and thick her voice was with restrained emotion. She watched as his expression shifted from concern to torn between pity and sadness. She watched his own conflict as his gaze flicked away and he sighed heavily, not understanding yet why her declaration was so important.

"Gaby…" She knew what he had been about to say, no doubt a lengthy diatribe about how much he cared for her and how he wished he could stay but couldn't, and with a burst of courage she managed to interrupt him to tell him the thought that had been on her mind for the last few hours.

"I'm pregnant." She blurted out, he reeled back slightly and a look of abject shock crossed his face, firmly removing any other trace of emotion that had been there previously. Uncertain of how he would feel about the news once the surprise wore off, she let her gaze drop back to her knees and quietly told him the rest. "I've been feeling nauseous for a while, I went to the doctor about it and they did it a blood test."

Silence fell as she let him process the news, she kept her eyes fixed into place even as she heard him stand up and move to sit beside her on the couch. There was a small pause and then she felt him gather her onto his lap. She wound her arms around him and buried her face into his neck as he rested his chin on the top of her head. The sudden proximity stung at her eyes and she bit harshly on her lip to stop herself from such a display of emotion.

"I can't stay." Illya said quietly, one of his hands rubbing down her arm comfortingly. "They won't let me stay, no matter the reason." Feeling a stab of anger, she made to get up and push him away but his arms tightened around her and locked her into place. Shifting slightly so she could look at him, she shot him a venomous glare. "I can't stay." He repeated, meeting her gaze steadily. "But you could come with me."

The thought had not occurred to her. She had only ever considered the idea of him staying with her in East Germany and perhaps buying a house together. Living in Russia had never crossed her mind and now she let herself consider it. On the surface it wasn't a particularly appealing concept, her fanciful thoughts of the future usually involved her moving over the wall not further behind it. But would it really be any worse than the situation she was in currently? It wasn't just herself she had to think about now, and she wasn't foolish enough to think that life as an unmarried mother in East Germany would hold any advantage over being a married woman in Russia. He hadn't said anything about getting married but she knew that's what would happen if she went with him, she knew him well enough to know that if he accepted this responsibility he would not want to make any half-measures.

Thinking it over some more, Gaby realised she had very little to hold her to Germany apart from some fond childhood memories she clung to and a general sense of nostalgia. She had no family there anymore, her blood relatives were either dead or missing and her foster family were equally diminished. She did have the business, but that could be sold and she could start again wherever she wanted. Every city needed car mechanics, she would have no difficulty finding work and she was sure Illya would not stand in her way if that was what she wanted to do. He had always appreciated her independence and was not stupid enough to think she would give it up just because of the sudden existence of a marriage and birth certificate.

"I guess I should probably learn Russian." She murmured, feeling a surprising sense of calm at the acceptance of her fate. She felt him press a light kiss to her hair, before he parted from her and spoke again.

"There's something you should know first." He admitted, and there was something in the intonation of his voice that made Gaby pull away and look at him closely. He struggled to meet her eyes, and she felt a rock sink into her stomach as she realised that whatever it was it was likely to be very serious. A multitude of possibilities ran through her mind, the most worrisome being that he was actually already married. If he was, she wasn't sure what she would do but she found that the most likely outcome involved violence and one of her hands closed into a fist in subconscious preparation. "It's about my job." He added, and she felt herself relax a little. "I'm not really an engineer." The odd confession caused a frown to crease her features.

"What?" She asked, unsure if she had heard him correctly. It was such a strange thing to lie about. Wincing slightly he repeated himself without further elaboration, only increasing her confusion. "What's your job then?"

"You're going to be very angry with me." He warned her, looking strangely reluctant to admit his actual occupation. She rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Illya, I don't care if you work in garbage disposal. It's a stupid thing to lie about, but just tell me."

"It's worse than that." He hesitated and leaned slightly away from her, eyes suddenly fixed on the wall behind her. "I work with the KGB." Icy-cold understanding washed over her, and she felt the colour drain from her face.

"You're a spy?" She asked incredulously, it had not been the confession she had been expecting. She had thought he was embarrassed about his career, not actively secretive about it. He nodded in response to the question.

"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you before." Illya said uncomfortably. "But I thought you needed to know before you made a decision." A little voice niggled her from the back of her mind, reminding her that now would be a perfect time to confess to her own espionage background, but she did not say anything. Illya continued to look at her expectantly, clearly waiting for some sort of reaction. "Gaby, are you okay?"

"It doesn't matter if I'm not, it's not as though I have much choice in the matter." She snapped. "My thoughts on your career don't change the fact I am carrying your child." The harsh admonishment made him drop his head in shame, and she felt a twinge of guilt when she remembered that she really was in no place to judge. "I'm sorry." She said with a sigh, one of her hands moving up to her forehead to massage her temple. "I'm struggling to process everything at the moment."

"I understand." He sounded sincere and she only felt worse for her outburst. "I haven't been very honest."

"You couldn't have known this would happen." She said solemnly, dropping her hands so they rested on his shoulders. "There was no reason for you to tell the truth about that, not when you thought you wouldn't ever see me again." She had no intention of telling him about being recruited to MI6 for similar reasons, her own secret remained at the tip of her tongue but she found herself unable to utter it. The potential consequences of telling him the truth ran through her mind and silenced the confession, would he withdraw his offer? Give her up to the KGB? Much later she would realise that she was being ridiculous but at the moment she had felt her own fate too precarious to risk it on his goodwill.

"Do you still want to come with me?" He asked.

"Yes." She said firmly.

Gaby wondered whether she was putting herself in a dangerous position but immediately dismissed the idea. She was only provisionally an MI6 agent, and she doubted Waverly even had her listed on any official paperwork. The only reason he would have to seek her out would be if there was any progress with her father's situation but from what she could tell everything had been silent on that front for a very long time. There was some chance that her family connections could be found out, an agent would not have to search long for the daughter of Udo Teller to find out she had been taken in by another family and her last name changed to Schmidt. But even then there was little reason to suspect another agency had already turned her, and her Nazi relations alone were not enough to condemn her.

"I'm needed back by the end of the week." Illya told her, clearly already thinking through the mechanics of relocating her. "I can organise the legal aspects while I'm over there, visas-"

"Marriage license." She interrupted with a quirked eyebrow, a smile crossed his face and he stole a quick kiss.

"If that's what you want."

Within a month that was what happened, Gaby found herself in Russia with a small tell-tale bump, a new home, and yet another last name change that she hoped would be more permanent than the previous two. Illya had made most of the arrangements while in Russia, and at the end of it all Gaby had to do was to put her garage and flat on the market and pack her own things for the journey east.

They had already planned for Illya to travel over to escort her and help her settle in, but at the last minute he was called away and she had to make the journey herself. Travelling alone had been a nerve-wracking experience but the documentation Illya had procured for her was serious enough that no one asked any questions as she crossed the borders, and if anyone tried to bother her she simply had to flash it and they backed off immediately, a dozen apologies on their lips. After a few days she finally arrived at his flat in Russia, and let herself in with the key he had sent to her. It had been pretty much what she has expected- just as Spartan as his temporary home in East Berlin, only with a few more sentimental touches. She set about to making her own subtle changes, firmly making her mark on the place and establishing it as the home of a soon-to-be-married couple rather than that of a single man.

Illya returned late one evening when she was curled up near the fireplace, trying to decipher the Cyrillic of a book she had taken from one the shelves. He had no shortage of literature but annoyingly most of it was in Russian. She had discarded it as soon as the door opened and he stepped through, immediately launching herself at him.

"I missed you." Gaby said with a breathless smile. She felt one of his hands go to rest on her abdomen while he leaned down to greet her with a kiss.

"I missed you too." He stole a quick glance around the flat, a smile lifting up the corner of his lips. "I see you've redecorated."

"Are you complaining?"

"No. It needed to be done."

They married a few weeks later, it was a small ceremony with only the required witnesses present, both conscious that she would start to show soon. After that she settled into her new life relatively easily, the biggest issue mostly being the language barrier she still struggled with. Illya had been tutoring her on the language but it was a slow, ongoing process and she still became easily frustrated when she went out to try to get groceries and was unable to understand what the shopkeeper said to her.

Gradually she did adapt, her progression seeming to correlate with her size as the child inside her grew larger and more complex. Before their little accident, she had never really thought of pregnancy much, usually reserving her thoughts of it for some mythical future time. She had not thought it would be so uncomfortable, the nausea eventually subsided but in its absence came back pain and other such annoyances. Despite all the inconvenience she couldn't help but grow fond of the little human she was hosting, even more so when she started to feel the tentative little gestures inside her womb once he or she started to move their limbs about.

Unfortunately, Illya was usually away for most of these wondrous moments of discovery. She soon came to learn that his mission in East Berlin had been a rarity- a long-term undercover assignment. What was more common was for him to leave their home for a week or two and return, sometimes looking untouched and others with fresh bruises or scars. She came to dread those weeks, usually fearful that one day he would not return at all, but to her gratitude he always did. Illya seemed to be aware that the absences were a strain on her and so he seemed to make a conscious effort to bring her things from over the wall for some small gesture of consolation. She did appreciate them- chocolate from Belgium, tea from England, a silk scarf from Italy. The gifts were usually the only hint he could give her about where he had spent his time, and while she liked them she would have much preferred his presence, and unfortunately they would not have much time to spend together before he was sent away again, his departure usually preceded by the arrival of a small but intimidating man at the house.

Before the first time, Illya had warned her about him- Oleg was his handler and had all the power in the world to end their reasonably comfortable existence should the whim strike him. She had felt the truth of his words when Oleg first arrived, he had spent a long time scrutinising her disdainfully before turning to Illya and spending the rest of his time ignoring her. Over time she gathered that Illya was of a considerably high rank, but she would not have guessed that from the way his handler treated him. Oleg was also the reason Gaby first learned about Illya's anger management problems, one of the harsher lectures ending with Illya breaking the glass he was holding the moment the front door had shut behind the other man. The sudden act of violence had startled her dumb for several moments before she retrieved a first aid kit and tended to his cuts. He had quietly thanked her and the serious, apologetic look he sent her revealed how ashamed he was about losing his temper.

It was a few days before Illya told her the rest, about his family history and the resulting violent rages. He had confessed the whole thing with the air of a detached observer rather than someone who experienced such psychiatric problems. With the story told, he had quickly reassured her that he would never turn his anger towards her or their child, something that until that point she had not actually considered as a possibility. After allowing some time for the information to sink in, she had comforted him as best as she could and promised him that it didn't change her opinion. The latter was a lie, she did trust him and she knew that he had never hurt her nor would he ever want to, but she couldn't help but be slightly concerned.

Over time her worry decreased as he continued to prove that he did have some control over his temper, they argued often but he never at any point turned violent even when she was being particularly unreasonable. Their fights did not usually last long, often they were caused by something stupidly trivial and they were always resolved by the end of the day- usually with lots of kisses and apologies. The frequency with which they occurred increased as they moved closer and closer to her due date, and if anything Illya became less responsive to her intentional antagonism, clearly understanding that her mood swings had little to do with him. He even reacted with remarkable calm when she was spewing venomous, expletive-laden insults at him between agonising labour contractions, all immediately forgiven when the midwife placed the object of her efforts into her waiting and exhausted arms. There was something life changing in that moment, the culmination of all the past months struggles suddenly rendered meaningless by the joy that baby suddenly brought to them both.

Unfortunately, as Gaby had quickly become used to, the KGB were not feeling particularly inclined to letting Illya settle in with his new family member and within days of the birth he was sent away again, leaving Gaby alone to take care of a child that seemed determine to keep her up at all hours of the day and night. Luckily, Illya had some very kind neighbours, one of whom was a pleasant older woman who upon hearing the screams had turned up on her doorstep and shooed Gaby to her bed for a couple of hours while she took care of the child. When Illya did return, he did try to make up for his absence but she found that he was usually already exhausted from late nights or having to stay awake for days on end and did not have the energy to get up every few hours to rock the baby back to sleep.

The exemption to the general rule was the day he returned with a broken arm and they were given a solid three months together while he recovered from the injury. It was selfish of her, but she was strangely grateful for that time even though she would never wish him to be hurt. It was a heart-warming sight to come down the stairs in the morning to see him talking away in Russian to little Klaus, the harsh language seeming to have a strangely soothing effect on him. That three months had been blissful as it also afforded her much more a break with Illya now capable to taking on a much more active role in parenting, of course she loved Klaus but she had to admit he was exhausting to deal with. Gaby had never thought it would be so difficult. She did find herself falling into some old bad habits while Illya was home, and knowing that he couldn't be there most of the time, Illya was surprisingly tolerant when she decided to have a bottle of vodka to herself and did not complain when he found himself taking care of two people in the aftermath. If anything he seemed slightly amused at having to transition from feeding Klaus to holding back her hair while she moaned about her life choices between retches.

Of course it couldn't last, and as soon as Illya was fully recovered he was sent away again and the cycle of her waiting anxiously for his return only for him to depart again began anew. He often returned quite late at night, but as she slept lightly without him his arrival normally woke her up. One night, Gaby had been dozing sleepily when she heard the door of the bedroom quietly open and shut again after a short pause. She had long since memorised the sound and pace of the footsteps that approached the bed so she relaxed as she confirmed who her visitor was. The bed dipped as a heavy weight was set upon it, there was the sound of some shuffling from behind her where she was laying on her side. After a few minutes, the shuffling stopped and the she felt a warm body settle in beside her, one arm looping over to lie across her waist.

"Back in one piece?" She murmured, voice slightly muffled by the pillow her face was resting against.

"Alive and well." He replied quietly, and she felt him press a light kiss to her neck. "Go to sleep, we can talk in the morning."

"No." She rolled over to look at Illya seriously. "Do you hear that?" The question caused his eyes to widen and he sat up suddenly, suspiciously glancing around as though it would reveal itself.

"Hear what?" The urgency in his voice was clear, and with a slow and lazy movement she too rose to a seated position and draped her arms around his shoulder.

"Nothing. Blissful silence." She whispered into his ear, and when he turned in confusion towards her she gave him a wicked smile. "The night terror is asleep, we might not get another such perfect opportunity again." He seized onto her meaning immediately, and she muffled a squeal with the back of her hand when his weight abruptly pushed her back on to the bed, sandwiching her between his body and the mattress. She grinned up at him as he leaned down for a kiss, entwining her fingers through his hair and deliberately mussing it out of its normal, perfectly-combed order. Her nightdress was haphazardly thrown to the side and was swiftly joined by the clothes he had not yet removed, and they both spent the night enjoying their reunion.

The next morning, Gaby had woken with the sunrise to find her husband looking at the ceiling with an expression of deep concentration.

"Finding some answers up there?" She asked from her comfortable position on his chest.

"No, unfortunately. The answers I need will have to come from you." He intoned cryptically.

"Oh? I get to make a decision?" She teased, shifting around so she could face him properly. She crossed her arms and leaned her chin on them so she could stare up at him.

"Well you get to inform me of your opinion on the decision." He amended with an apologetic look that she waved off.

"What's the decision?"

"I'm being reassigned." At that she raised her head with a mixture of interest and dread.

"Where to?" The tremor in her voice was apparent, and already she could think of a dozen places where the KGB might send him that would not be a pleasant stay.

"No need to panic." He reassured her and pulled her in for a quick kiss. "I'm sure you'll like it, the position is in London with an international agency. It is going to be long-term, so I get to bring my family with me."

"We're moving to London?" She asked in stupefied disbelief.

"We are." He confirmed.

"How on earth did that happen?" Gaby demanded, utterly baffled as to how such a thing had come about.

"The Americans were also involved in my most recent mission, I brought you back some Turkish Delights on that subject." He added, intentionally giving her an idea of where he had been as well as providing her with something to appeal to her insatiable sweet tooth. "The CIA agent they sent and I worked well together, and so they've decided to set up a team using agents from different organisations."

"You worked with a CIA agent?" She asked sceptically, her eyebrow raised so high that it disappeared into her fringe.

"Yes." He sounded defensive.

"That doesn't sound like you." She mocked gently. "Did you try and kill him?" The silence and guilty look in response to her question made her giggle.

"That doesn't matter." He said eventually, only making her burst into fresh peals of laughter. "We've moved past our differences." She sobered slightly, although her face still danced with mirth.

"I guess I should start packing."

Author's Note: So this was originally part of my drabble series, but it was starting to get too long so I thought I would make it a separate story. I might change the title at some point since I used a one word prompt to come up with the story.