Their first kiss was not what she expected. Then again the first time she met him they were sworn enemies and a day later he slipped an engagement ring on her finger, so what did she know. Still, she never thought that having her lips pressed to his would be so terrifying.

As she tried to force the air from her lungs to his all she could think about was all the times they had almost kissed. Solo was kneeling beside her doing chest compressions, but it didn't seem to be working. Illya's face remained motionless, pale as a ghost.

With each breath she remembered the way he held her in his arms that first night in the hotel. She felt his hands lingering on her thigh for much longer than it took to flip the switch on the transmitter. She couldn't forget the way his eyes begged her to stay for a drink that last day in Italy.

When they met again on the roof, the moment was over. She wanted to walk over to his side, but she wasn't a chop shop girl anymore, she was an agent from another organization. The lines were drawn. Even if they were on the same team today, she knew she would always be MI5 to him and he would continue to work for the KGB.

Istanbul was a different type of mission. She was busy distracting the mark while Illya and Solo searched his room for evidence. They weren't sharing a room anymore, which left her surprisingly lonely.

The distance increased after that. Often times she would go days without seeing her teammates. She was still in training, which meant frequent trips back to England. The boys on the other hand had missions for their own agency's.

So when Solo turned up one day with two first class tickets to Rio De Janeiro, she was genuinely happy to see him. She would have been happier to see Illya, but she kept that thought to herself. On the flight, they were every bit the happy honeymooners they were pretending to be.

They had just checked into the hotel and begun discussing the case, when there was a knock at the door.

"Why don't you get that, dear? It's probably the maid with fresh towels," Solo said in full loving husband character.

Her hand was on the gun in her holster when she opened the door to find Illya on the other side.

"You should ask who it is before you open the door, Kotehok."

"I was just going to shoot whoever it was if they tried anything. Still could," she teased, tapping the gun in her hand.

"You are more likely to kill someone with a knife than a gun in close quarters such as these," he replied as he moved through the room toward Napoleon. The glint of the knife at his hip caught her eye as the men greeted each other. The two seemed to have spent at least a few cases together, as the mentioned cases she was not familiar with.

As soon as she took a seat though their focus was on their current problem. Some nazi gold from Argentina had been used to open up a research hospital in Rio. This alone was suspicious enough, but when added to the increased number of missing persons cases involving women, it was enough to warrant UNCLE's presence.

As Solo explained the plan, Illya became agitated, his hands shaking.

"She cannot be used as bait! Has not had enough training," he growled. Gaby was instantly annoyed, but the look in the Russian's eyes was more concerning. She moved closer, taking his hand.

"I've learned a lot, Illya. I can defend myself. Besides, they are kidnapping women, not mountains disguised as men. The day some lunatic starts snatching up giants, it will be your turn to be bait," she laughed, trying to me make him relax. It worked as she felt the tension ease from his hands.

"I do not like this plan," he growled with less force.

"Your objections are noted," Napoleon said calmly. He wasn't thrilled about the plan either, but he felt better knowing that Gaby had Peril and himself for back up.

"And I still have this," Gaby added wiggling her ring finger in the Russians face. The engagement ring he had given her was once again adorning her finger.

"I tried to give her a diamond, but she seems rather attached to the one you got her," Napoleon sighed as if he couldn't fathom a women passing on a diamond.

"Is good ring," Illya shrugged, though they both noticed his proud smirk.

A few hours later, Gaby and Napoleon were enjoying a nice dinner in a little café. The café was within walking distance of several of the places women had been reported missing. The plan for the night was to see and be seen. Solo ordered the most expensive bottle of champagne on the menu, and Gaby was wearing a dress that had every man in the rooms eyes on her. So far the be seen part of the plan was working.

As for the seeing, Illya was perched on a roof across the street watching everyone in the neighborhood. His eyes went back to her every ten seconds like clockwork. His most important mission was keeping her safe. He watched a group of young boys in the alley behind the restaurant. They were probably just loitering, but Illya kept an eye on them anyway. There was a crowd of rowdy men watching football in a bar across the street. There was an elder couple sitting on a bench watching children play in the square. Lovers were strolling down the sidewalk. Everything was as it should be, but Illya still watched. He mentally recorded every person's face. If he saw them again he wanted to recognize them. It was this attention to detail that would save Gaby's life the very next day.

When they were done with dinner, they took a stroll around the square. They stopped to look in shop windows and sat on a bench for a bit to watch the sunset. Back at the hotel Illya got in the elevator right behind him.

" I did not see anything out of the ordinary," he reported mechanically.

"That's a good thing, Peril. The real hunting starts tomorrow when our girl takes her 'solo' shopping trip," Napoleon winked.

Gaby rolled her eyes. Illya glared. Knowing that she was going to be out on her own made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. The only way he agreed to let her go was that he would be following her at an inconspicuous distance.

"You remember the order of the shops you will go to?" He asked. They had made an agenda so that he would know where she was headed and could find her if he lost sight of her.

"Yes, Illya, I know the route. Take a cab to rio sul. Start at Cardin, stay 20 minutes, buy a bag…"

"A clutch," the Russian ground out.

"Buy a clutch," she sighed making the word sound ridiculous. "Clutch that will probably cost more than a months salary. Then to Coach for sunglasses. Givenchy, look for 30 minutes, try on something, but buy nothing. Dior for a dress. Pucci where again I buy nothing, even though their clothes are actually cute," she grumbled.

Illya groaned.

"Courreges for a skirt," she continued.

"That was not on the agenda," Illya said confused and annoyed.

"Napoleon thinks I have great legs, and at dinner he said that I should get something to show them off," she grinned, knowing she was pushing his buttons as his eyes twitched. Just then the elevator door opened and Napoleon stepped out.
"I'm going to let you two sort this out while I go get a night cap. Peril, be a dear and see that Gaby gets tucked in, will you?"

Before either could respond the doors closed again and the elevator continued its journey to the honeymoon suite.

"Do you want to come in for a drink?" She asked when the elevator stopped again. She thought for that he would decline, but as she stepped out, he followed her. "We have rum, gin, or vodka. What would you like?"

"Vodka," he answered absently as he walked around the room. It was a suite, but the bedroom door was open and a king size bed was clearly visible. He rolled his shoulders and tried not to think about what that meant.

"I would offer you a seat on the couch," she commented, noticing his gaze as she handed him a drink, "but it is currently my bed so, I don't know if you would approve."

He turned to see a pillow and blanket folded on the edge of the couch. "The cowboy makes you sleep on the couch?" He asked indignantly.

"He offered to share, but I said no. I am smaller, so it only makes sense that I should sleep on the couch. Besides, in a room like this, the couch is more comfortable than my old bed ever was."

"I still would not let my woman sleep on a couch."

Gaby sighed, "I know, mein berg, but it honestly doesn't bother me. If it did, Napoleon would be on the floor before you can say Раз."

"I am sure he would," he smiled thinking of their first night together, but his thoughts were interrupted by the clock chiming. "I should go, you need your sleep."

"You could stay," Gaby answered quietly. As she spoke, she took his glass, set it on the table next to hers and stepped close enough to touch. Illya searched her eyes. He had thought of her often since their time in Rome, but he still didn't know how he felt about her. Before he had known she was an enemy agent, there had been a strong attraction. Now every time he thought of her, he felt like he was betraying his country. Still, there was a pull that brought his head almost to hers. He could remember the way her lips felt as they brushed his skin, the night she passed out in his arms. He almost closed the distance when the phone rang and they jumped apart.

"Hello," Gaby answered in a voice dripping with fake politeness. "Oh, Waverly, just one minute."
But when she turned back to him, Illya had disappeared. She tried not to be disappointed as she listened to her orders for the following day.