Vinciguerra Island, 1963

The naval helicopter currently en-route to the island fortress was making considerably more noise than necessary, the blonde female currently strapped into the flying death-trap mused as she peered out of the small, but thankfully clean, window beside her.

She had barely set foot onto the HMS Ark Royal before being herded back into the contraption by a very anxious and excited Alexander Waverly, and the pair were now coming into land on the grassy landscape that covered the portion of the island that was not overridden by the huge fortress the Vinciguerra family had built as an obvious show of wealth.

The former MI5 boss had nattered on and on since boarding and honestly, she was far too tired to pay much attention to him. Naturally she'd skimmed the file that had been handed to her at the airport terminal at Madrid and so was more than up to speed on the status of the mission at hand. The flight out from Spain had, admittedly, been a short one but after spending the better part of three weeks tracking and neutralising the threat British Intelligence had detected in the city, a twelve hour long-haul where she could have had a nap and a cup of tea that wasn't lukewarm, would have been much appreciated.

"We've landed Sir, Ma'am." The blonde's eyes flickered over to the pilot, currently twisting in his seat to address them and with an "Excellent work, man." Waverly was gone, leaving only the agent at his side in the space.

The blonde flashed the pilot a quick smile as he turned back in his seat to fiddle with the controls, and she internally ran through the notes she had tried to memorise on the plane.

Three agents; one Russian, one American and one former mechanic turned spy for the British. The last one brought a genuine smile to her lips; it had taken some of her best persuasive skills to turn one Gabriella (Gaby) Teller to their side, but the payoff had been worth it. Not only had the girl managed to track down her father but she had also fed them titbits of what was going on in East Germany before her extraction by the nosy American agent.

Sneering at the thought of the CIA operative almost ruining two years of her and Waverly's hard work, she made a promise to herself to acquaint the as yet nameless agent's cheek with the palm of her hand when she finally met him.

Anyway, three operatives tasked with locating the nuclear missile constructed by the kidnapped Dr Udo Teller (a rocket scientist turned U.S. collaborator) under the watchful eyes of Alexander and Victoria Vinciguerra with the aim of passing it onto any remaining Nazi's, had failed despite storming the compound, burning Gaby's cover and Waverly revealing himself as MI5.

Nevertheless, the man was ecstatic as news of a car chase involving a Jeep, a dune buggy and a motorbike, filtered through the helicopter's radio and had almost exploded with joy when the Russian radioed to confirm that they did indeed finally have the missile.

She took a breath as she reached the end of her information and with a final smile to the naval pilot; she made her way out of the helicopter, gratefully taking the hand of a Special Boat Service operative as she transitioned from the high ledge of the helicopter to the marshland below.

The wind had picked up. That was her first thought upon planting both feet onto the ground, and the blonde was suddenly embraced by the chill, her hair blowing everywhere as her beige coat fanned out behind her.

She supposed she looked an intimidating sight; hair blowing back, coat fanning out to show the tight black jumper and capris' she had on underneath as well as the burly seaman at her side, quickly springing back into position as the British agent released him.

She took one step, her impractical black heels narrowly avoiding a patch of mud before her spine stiffened and her eyes went wide at the sound of a voice that she had last heard in a busy airport too many years ago.

"Eva?"

"Napoleon."

He had always loved how his name rolled off her tongue; her accent enunciating every vowel in a way that his American counterparts never could.

She was still a sight to behold; golden hair whipping around behind her as military men who could snap her in half took a large step back from the fierce Agent. Solo could feel his exhausted body rejuvenate as he drank in her image, the form fitting clothes she had always preferred, doing little to quench his thirst.

A flicker of concern passed through her eyes as she took in the mud and blood that he was currently covered in; the chase having taken him through some very dodgy parts of the marshland before Alexander Vinciguerra decided to come at him with a bar that had been ripped from his Jeep after it had rolled. He could honestly say that the man would not be missed as he recalled the deadly slap of iron on steel as the mad Italian struck his outstretched gun. At least Peril had been able to dispose of him quickly.

"Excellent job." An excited Alexander Waverly clapped him on the shoulder as he strolled back from inspecting the missile. "Absolutely spectacular." He grinned, breaking the silent stare that had entranced the man and woman. "Wouldn't you agree, Eva?"

"Simply wonderful." She agreed, her voice flat as Waverly waved her over to join him as he addressed the three muddy operatives that had migrated to the side of the naval helicopter that had joined then from HMS Ark Royal, where they were using the steps as seats while a medic worked.

She stepped past him carefully, her eyes meeting his only briefly before snapping back to her Commander and the woman he was currently speaking to.

"Gaby, my dear, how are you?" The brunette only managed a shaky smile in response as she nestled further into Kuryakin's tender hold and Solo felt his fists curl as images of the woman handcuffed to the dashboard as the jeep flipped down the hillside filled his mind.

Yes, it definitely a good thing that Peril had dealt with Vinciguerra and honestly, the man was lucky that it had not been the Russian to pull Gaby from the wreck or a simple stab wound would not have been deemed fitting enough.

"Right, well…" Waverly tailed off as he too took in the state of the woman. "…at least we got it before it could fall into the wrong hands, eh?" Solo forced down a laugh at the glare Peril sent towards the Brit before his eyes landed on the blonde and his eyebrow rose questioningly.

"Ah yes." Waverly turned to the woman who was carefully studying the Russian and the German and cleared his throat to catch her attention. "Let me introduce you to MI5 Agent…"

"Eva Solo." Her voice was crisp as she cut across the man, always preferring her own introductions.

"Solo?" The confusion in the Russian's voice was clear as he frowned at her and Eva had to admit that this was possibly the worst way to have this conversation. "As in Cowboy?" She frowned at the reference, unsure of exactly what the Russian was implying.

"Mr Kuryakin I presume?" She strode towards the man, hand outstretched. "A pleasure to meet you." She stepped away from him as soon as the handshake was done and crouched beside the brunette still in his arms. "Gabriella Teller." She grinned at the girl. "Long time no see."

"You said this would be easy." The accusation as barely loud enough for the three men to hear but Eva laughed; the six words a perfect status report on the brunette.

"No." She patted her head as she stood. "I said it was simple; not that it would be easy, they Gaby, are two vastly different things."

"I still do not understand how you have same name as Cowboy." She was well aware that Kuryakin hadn't taken his eyes off her during her exchange with Gaby and she was sure that the KGB Agent had more questions than that, especially as Gaby had let out a smile upon first seeing the woman disembark the aircraft.

"I didn't know marriage wasn't practised in Russia anymore, Mr Kuryakin." She retorted, stepping back to give the medic some room.

"I do not-"

"She's my wife, Peril."