A car pulled up outside of Anya's home. Out of it stepped a tall older man who made his way to the front door. "You can't go in there, sir," the U.N.C.L.E. agent guarding the door said.
The man reached into his pants pocket, pulling out an ID case. He flashed his identification and the young agent stood straighter and stammered, "Sorry sir, didn't recognize you. Go right ahead."
The older man smiled and said "Thank you" as he walked through the door. He stood in the foyer taking in the scene around him.
"You can't come in here," Gibbs said, intercepting the visitor.
The older man smiled and flashed his ID. "Where can I find Timothy McGee?" he asked.
Gibbs nodded and said, "Master suite."
Mark threw a thank you over his shoulder as he walked up the stairs. He walked into the master bedroom and said, "Timothy?"
McGee jumped at the sound of the voice as he looked up. "Sorry, force of habit to sneak up on people," Mark said, giving him a smile. "Name's Mark Slate, I'm here to take that package to D.C."
"I'm...uh, almost finished," he replied, packing the last of the items into the satchel.
"Is this everything?" Mark asked.
"Uh, yeah," he replied, handing Mark the bag.
Mark flung the strap over his shoulder and said, "Thanks, mate," as he walked out of the room.
Downstairs, the team was finishing up when Mark walked back into the room. "How's it going in here?" Mark asked.
Gibbs glanced at the former U.N.C.L.E. agent and took a deep breath. "No sign of forced entry but she put up a fight," he said indicating the furniture on its side.
"Good girl," he said with a sad smile. "Where's the dog?"
"Tony took him for a walk. He should be back soon," Gibbs replied.
"How was he when you walked in?"
"Upset," Gibbs replied.
Mark walked into the kitchen and looked around. He spotted the food and water dishes. "We filled them but he won't eat or drink," Ziva provided.
"That doesn't surprise me. He probably witnessed everything. He knows something's wrong," Mark said.
Tony walked back into the house with Ducky in tow. The corgi ran towards Mark, his short tail wagging with renewed vigor. Mark smiled at the corgi and knelt down reaching for the pooch. Ducky ran into his waiting arms. "Are you ready to go home?"
Ducky snuggled into Mark letting out a whimper. "I know, we'll be home soon enough," he said, standing and making his way to the kitchen counter where McGee had placed the dog carrier.
After securing the latch on the carrier, Mark readjusted the bag on his shoulder. He picked up the carrier, taking a peek inside to assure the corgi that everything was going to be all right before walking out of the house. Mark motioned for Gibbs to follow him out, "I want you to look into her husband Richard's death."
"You think his death was related to this?" Gibbs asked.
"I was thinking about it on the flight here and yes. He died in a car accident a couple months ago. Something isn't sitting right with me about it right now. I wouldn't put it past Romanov to arrange the accident," he said as he reached the car.
Gibbs briefly mulled it over; from what little he knew of the situation it sounded plausible to him. "All right. Do you know the details?"
"The local team," he said, nodding to the U.N.C.L.E. agents standing guard at the front door, "can provide you with that information."
Gibbs turned to glance at the agents. "You're not one of them are you?"
"U.N.C.L.E. agent? No, I left with April and Illya. Under the circumstances we still have access though." He gently placed the dog carrier on the backseat. Next he placed the bag on the floor before closing the door. "I'll let you get back to the house," Mark said, holding the driver's door open.
Gibbs watched as Mark drove off before going back to the house. They were almost finished, he thought, tomorrow morning they would divide and conquer. Half the team would talk to Anna's employer while the other half would reopen the case of the accident that caused her husband Richard's death.
Later that night Mark Slate walked into the house in Reston where Doctor Donald Mallard had been living for the past 20 years. "Illya, Napoleon," he called out.
Illya walked to the front door to greet the latest guest. "Mark, it's good to see you."
"I wish it was under better circumstances," he replied as he placed the carrier on the floor.
Illya knelt in front of the carrier to let the corgi out. The other dogs in the house ran to greet their long lost brother. Ducky hesitated, too saddened to come out. Illya reached in to coax the dog out. He gently pulled the pooch out and held him in his arms. Ducky laid his head on Illya's shoulder. "I know," he murmured.
"How's April?" Mark asked.
"She's sleeping," Illya replied as he pushed himself to stand. "Why don't you make yourself at home, I'm going to take this one upstairs," Illya said as he walked toward the stairs.
"Come on, I'll introduce you to Abby," Napoleon said.
Illya carefully opened the door to the master suite. Despite having given his wife a sedative, he didn't want to disturb her. He crept into the room and gently placed the dog on the bed. He watched as Ducky snuggled next to April. Tearing himself away from his wife he quietly snuck out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Illya wearily walked into the kitchen and sank in an empty chair. "How was it?" he asked.
Napoleon took a good long look at his friend; he looked tired. He wanted to say something but knew his stubborn friend would do the opposite of whatever he said. Mark was also tired; the long trip from London to Minnesota then back to D.C. was starting to take its toll on him. He scrubbed his hands over his face as he stifled a yawn. "She was grabbed at home. No sign of forced entry but she did put up a fight," he replied.
"Which means she either knew her kidnapper or it was someone posing as a delivery man or utility worker," Illya said thoughtfully.
"My guess is Ducky witnessed the entire thing," Mark added.
"It wouldn't surprise me, the poor thing," Illya replied.
"Well if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed," Mark said, pushing his chair back.
"Nico will take the room closest to the master, feel free to take one of the others," Illya replied.
"I took the room next to Nico," Napoleon called after the retreating back of his friend. Mark waved a hand in response as he continued to the stairs. "You should get some sleep too, tovarishch," Napoleon said after they were alone.
"I can't sleep," he replied.
"Illya, you're no good to them if you're falling asleep where you stand," Napoleon said.
"He's right, Ducky, you need sleep," came the voice of Abby.
"I'm fine Abigail; I'll sleep when I'm tired," he replied. He paused throwing a glance in her direction, "You should get some sleep yourself."
"I, ah, can't sleep," she sheepishly replied.
"Well if you two are going to stay up partying then I'm going to call it a night," Napoleon said lifting himself from his char. "Don't stay up too late kids," he said, walking out of the room.
Abby sat in a chair next to Illya, "I like your friends," she said once Napoleon was out of the room.
Illya gave her a small smile, "They're the best," he quietly replied. "Now tell me Abigail, why can't you sleep?"
She looked down at her hands playing with her fingers. "It was the pictures, wasn't it?" Illya asked. Unable to face him she merely nodded. "Oh Abigail," he murmured, pulling her into his embrace.
She rested her head on his shoulder, "I'm sorry I insisted on seeing them," she quietly replied.
"That's ok," he murmured, planting a kiss on her forehead.
Later that night Abby sat in the dining room chatting with McGee online while the dogs huddled together in the library next to the fire. Illya lounged in the wingback chair with his feet on the ottoman. Anya's computer was on his lap as he snoozed. After comforting Abby he had made a fire and made himself comfortable to go through Anya's laptop searching for clues. What he found instead was a letter she had started writing telling him about the pregnancy. The long day had finally caught up with him and before he knew it, he had fallen asleep.
A car pulled up to the driveway and a young blond man stepped out. He grabbed a bag from the backseat before walking up the steps to the house. He fished around in his bag for the spare key he'd brought with him. Finding it, he slid it into the lock and opened the door. As he walked through the door he hoped the dogs wouldn't make any noise, waking the house up.
Tyson ran to the visitor as he closed the door. He nudged the man to let him know he was there. The blond looked down and smiled at the dog. He knelt in front of the corgi to pet him, letting his bag slide off his shoulder and onto the floor. "Hi buddy," he whispered. "Where is everyone?"
Tyson looked to his left causing the blond to follow his lead. Nickolai stood and made his way to the upstairs hall closet for a blanket. Finding what he was looking for, he went back to the library and placed it on the floor. He carefully lifted the laptop, placing it on the floor reaching for the blanket next.
Illya woke to find his son kneeling next to him. "Nico," he said quietly.
"Dad, sorry I woke you," he replied.
"That's ok, son," he replied as he sat up.
"Is something going on between you and Mom?"
"What makes you say that?"
"Every time you and Mom are together you're usually locked in your bedroom. Sometimes you never come out."
Illya smiled; it was true. In the thirty-plus years he and April had been married, they had spent about 10 years total together. As hard as it had been on them it was harder on their children. When they were little they hadn't understood why their father couldn't stay with them. As they'd grown older and were told the truth, they'd understood. Even though they understood, they still missed him. He'd missed them too.
His family was his life. The only way he was able to drudge through the years without them was by reminding himself that they were safe.
He put his feet on the floor, "Sit down," he said.
Nico was beginning to worry about what his father was going to say. "Nico," Illya began as Nico sat on the foot stool, "There's no easy way to say this… Anya's dead."
"What? What happened?"
"The man that had been after your mother and me killed her."
Abby had been in the dining room working when she heard voices. Curious, she followed the sound of the voices. She found Ducky in the library talking to what looked like a young version of himself. "Oh sorry," she said, turning to leave.
"Abby wait," Illya said, stopping the young woman. "Come here," he said motioning to her.
"I heard voices and…."
"That's ok. Abby, this is my son Nickolai. Nico, this is Abby."
"She's the lab tech," Nico said. "Dad's told us about you," he explained.
"It's nice to meet you," she replied.
"Still can't sleep?" Illya asked her.
"No," she replied. "You should get some sleep, Ducky."
Nico did his best to hide a yawn but it didn't go unnoticed by his father. "I'm going to go now, and so are you," he said, pointing to Nico. "No arguments. We can talk about this more once you've rested." Illya wearily lifted himself from the chair and waited as his son stood from the ottoman. He placed a hand on Nico's shoulder as they walked out the room.
The next morning April woke to find her husband lying next to her, spooning her. No matter where she lived, it wasn't home unless he was lying in bed with her. Feeling a different weight on her legs, she looked down to find a very sad looking corgi watching her. Her heart ached looking into those eyes; the poor thing knew something happened to his human mommy. She carefully extracted herself from Illya's embrace, hoping not to wake him.
Illya stirred briefly but didn't wake. April breathed a sigh of relief; she had a feeling he hadn't gone to bed until late. Slipping into her robe, she picked up the corgi and carried him out of the room.
When April reached the main floor of the house, she placed the dog down and walked into the library. She picked up the laptop and carried it into the dining room. April was surprised to find a young woman asleep at the table. She carefully placed the laptop on the table and went back to the library for the blanket she had noticed on the chair.
She draped the blanket on the dark haired woman's back, causing her to wake up. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," April said.
Abby looked at the older woman, blinking away sleep. "That's ok," she replied. Finally fully awake, she said, "You must be Ducky's wife."
"April, yes," she smiled. "You're Abby right?"
Abby smiled in return. "Yeah."
"He's talked about his friends for years. I only wish I could have met you under better circumstances."
Abby nodded and glanced down. "Who's this little guy?" she said, leaning down to pet April's furry shadow.
April smiled down at the corgi. "This is Ducky," she said as she sat in the chair closest to Abby. "He was Anya's," she added, reaching down to pick him up and place on her lap.
Abby looked at the older woman with amazement. The woman had lost her only daughter the day before and here she was, getting on with her life. "How do you do it?"
"Do what?" April asked.
"Move on the day after your daughter died. When Kate died I was a mess for days and we were just friends. I can't imagine what it would be like to lose my own child."
"It's not easy. I can't let myself dwell on it right now; if I did I wouldn't be of much use to Illya or anyone else. When I was an agent I learned to compartmentalize my life. It's been over 30 years since I was an agent but the man responsible for my baby's death is out there and he's coming after us. I have to bury my grief deep down. I'll have more than enough time to grieve once this is all over." She paused a moment, looking down at the dog. She stroked the corgi's head. "I don't blame Illya or Napoleon, Mark or even U.N.C.L.E. I blame the man responsible for her death. I have no regrets about my time with the organization. Had I not been there I would have never met Illya."
Illya walked into the dinning room during the last sentence. Last night he'd wondered if she blamed any of them for Anya's death. He blamed Napoleon; he would understand if she too placed the blame on his old partner or their former employer. He stood behind her placing his hands on her shoulders.
April reached up and placed her hand over his, giving it a squeeze. April's strength amazed Abby. She had never known a woman like her. "You're a real inspiration," Abby commented.
"Thank you," April said. "Now, I don't know about you but I'm famished. I know I can only hold this one," she said pointing to her husband, "off for so long before he sits in front of the fridge with a fork and knife," April teased.
Abby smiled. "I'll give you a hand," she replied, rising from her chair and walking into the kitchen.
April placed Ducky on the floor before standing from her chair. "Are you implying that I can't wait to eat?" Illya said, placing his hands on April's waist, pulling her towards him.
She smiled as she turned in his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Don't try and deny it."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied innocently.
"Right, you and that son of yours. You seem to have forgotten the endless feedings. He was a cute, cuddly, drooling little stomach that never seemed to fill up."
Illya smiled, he remembered those feedings all too well. He'd loved the times he would take a break from studying to feed Nico. He was still lost in thought when April stole a kiss. "I'm going with you to take care of Romanov once and for all," she said when the kiss ended.
"I never doubted it for a moment," he replied. "Now come on, I'm hungry."
"What else is new?" Napoleon teased, walking into the dining room.
"Where's Tyson when you need him?" Illya quipped.
"Illya, Illya, Illya," April tsked. "I'll just poison him and make it look like natural causes," she smirked.
Napoleon made a sour face, "I should have fired both of you years ago."
"That would have been nice to see since Mr. Waverly was in charge back then," Mark quipped.
"Who asked you?" Napoleon shot back.
April laughed despite herself, "Come on boys, breakfast," she said, leading the troops into the kitchen.
"Yes, Mom," they chorused in unison as they followed her out.
As April and Abby made a big breakfast with enough food to feed the Russian army, Nico stumbled in. The young Kuryakin was tall and slim; he stood a head taller than his parents with hair lighter than his father's. He walked up behind his mother and snaked his arms around her waist, dropping his head on her shoulder. April continued to prepare the food, never missing a beat.
Illya walked to his son and tapped him on the shoulder, "Hey, what are you doing here?"
"I smelled food," he mumbled.
Illya looked to his wife. "I told you - he's a walking stomach," she replied.
"You should sleep; you can eat later."
"Wanna eat now," he mumbled, half asleep.
Illya shook his head. "If you refuse to go back to bed then at least take a shower. I think those scrubs are starting to grow on you."
Napoleon tapped Illya on the arm. "This should do it," he said, holding out a cup of coffee for Nico.
Nico smelled the comforting brew and held out his arm, making a fist for an IV. Illya swatted it away and said, "Very funny, now go." Nico sighed in defeat and lumbered off. "Cold water, not hot!" Illya called out at the retreating back of his son. "The last thing we need is you falling asleep in the shower," Illya muttered as he walked back to the table. "You know, I don't think that boy even changed last night," he said.
"Must be hereditary. I seem to remember another blond that came home from a long weekend at the office and fell face first into bed. Didn't change, didn't even take off his holster," April quipped.
"At least I removed my gun before I hit the bed," Illya said.
"Yes, but you left your shoes on. I did not have fun trying to change you in that state. It was bad enough waking you under normal circumstances. You were even worse when you were that tired," April shot back.
"I almost forgot," Napoleon said placing the mug on the table. "Mark, would you give me a hand?"
"Sure thing," he said, following Napoleon out of the room.
The pair were gone less than five minutes. They returned with three metal cases, placing them on the table. "April, come here a minute please."
"What is it?" she asked, wiping her hands on a towel as she walked to the table.
"I thought you could use these," he said, opening the first case.
The three agents smiled at the contents of the case. "Now there's a sight for sore eyes," Mark said, reaching into the case.
"What is it?" Abby asked as she looked over Illya's shoulder.
"Standard issue U.N.C.L.E. special. An agent's best friend, we never leave home without it," Napoleon explained.
"We all had our initials on the hilts," April added.
"April, Illya, I brought yours as well," Napoleon said nodding towards the remaining two cases.
The couple each opened a case and their faces lit up like children opening their presents on Christmas day. April held her special in her hand, feeling its weight. "I forgot how good this felt," she said.
"I knew there was a reason I married you," Illya smirked.
"And here I thought it was because you loved me," she quipped.
Napoleon smiled at the banter, "I've reinstated all three of you, can't have you running around killing people like rouge agents if you were civilians, now can I?"
A short while later the group sat down to eat breakfast. Nico wandered into the kitchen more awake. "Morning," he said.
"Now that's more like it," April said smiling. "Good morning sweetheart. Food's on the stove."
"Smells good, but you didn't have to make so much."
April glowered at him and replied, "Very funny. You and your father together eat me out of house and home."
Nico loaded his plate sky high with bacon, eggs, hash browns and sausage. He carried his plate to the table, sitting across from Illya.
Nico was silent a few moments as he worked on putting a dent into the pile on his plate. Something had been on his mind since he stepped out of the shower. He wasn't sure how to broach the subject, unsure of the reaction it would get. "Dad," he hesitantly said.
"Yes?"
"I, um, was thinking."
"Yes?" Illya encouraged.
"When are you going to take care of the funeral arrangements?"
"Later today, why do you ask?"
"I...wanted to go with." April squeezed her husband's arm. "That is, if Mom isn't going," he added.
"That's ok, sweetheart, I have a lot of phone calls to make."
"You're not just saying that to drive my car, are you?" he teased. "Of course you can come with," Illya replied.
Later that morning, as Illya readied himself to make the hardest decisions he'd ever had to make, April sat on their bed talking on the phone. "We're burying her here because that's where we live. She paused a moment to listen to her daughter's in-laws. "My husband and I… No, I haven't remarried, he never died… It's a long story. Look, I'm calling you out of courtesy, once I have the final details I'll call you back. You don't have to come."
Illya had listened to April's end of the conversation, wishing he could save his wife from the stress she was going through. He sat down next to her, snaking his arm around her waist. She leaned into his embrace resting her head on his shoulder. "I know Anya's home with Richard was in Minnesota, but her father's home has been here for 20 years. He missed out on so much of her life when she was alive; we want to bury her here."
April began to get irritated by the conversation. "Let me remind you," she said, standing up from the bed. "Illya and I are her parents, not you. She may have been married to your son, but she was our daughter long before she was your daughter-in-law. You may not like it but that's how things are. We're going to bury our daughter close to us. If it's such a hassle for you to come then don't - she knew who loved her when she was alive."
When the call ended, April snapped her phone closed and sank onto the bed. That one call had worn her out more than she could have imagined. That was only the first of many that needed to be made. She was beginning to lose control of her emotions. Feeling overwhelmed, she leaned forward burying her face in her hands. Illya massaged her shoulders hoping to ease her stress. When she began to sob, he wrapped his arms around her and held her.
Minneapolis, Minnesota
Tony and Ziva walked into the reception area of Anya's job. They had been waiting for her boss to get out of his meeting. The minutes dragged on just as the meeting did until the NCIS agents grew tired of the wait. Finally, Tony stepped up to the receptionist hoping to charm her into interrupting the meeting. "Erin, could you do me a favor and see if Joe's still in that meeting," he said.
"I'll try Tony, but the last time I checked with his admin., the meeting was scheduled to last the whole morning," she replied.
"It's really important that we speak with him, the sooner the better."
As Erin picked up the receiver to call Joe's admin. Tony turned his back to her, glancing at Ziva. He watched as she paced back and forth, itching to dig further into the investigation. "Tony," Erin said, gaining his attention. "I'm sorry but he's still in the meeting."
"We can't wait any longer; we need to speak with him," he said. He paused a moment, thinking, when an idea struck him. "Is there any chance we can wait for him in his office?"
She nodded, "I suppose it can't hurt. Let me call Martha to have her escort you back." Once again she reached for the receiver and Tony walked to Ziva.
"We're in," he said, as he stood next to Ziva.
She looked at him trying to figure out how he managed to talk their way into the inner office. "Here's the plan," he began, "I arranged for us to wait for Joe in his office."
"But we're not going to wait there are we?" she asked, catching on to what her partner was thinking.
"Exactly, once we're in I'm going to find out where this meeting is and we're going to crash it." Ziva smirked at her partner, for once his devious side was coming in handy.
"Tony?" The agents turned at the sound of the voice. "My name is Martha. I'll take you to Joe's office." She held the door open for the agents. "So what does NCIS want with Joe?
"You know what NCIS is?" Ziva asked.
"What can I say, I'm a military brat," she replied.
"Well we...uh, can't really say. Out of curiosity, which conference room is this meeting in?" Tony said.
"Hoth," she replied.
"They named their conference rooms after Star Wars?" he asked.
"This is really a fun place to work," she said smiling. "This is the conference room," she said as they walked past it. "And here's Joe's office."
Tony and Ziva gave each other a knowing look. "Thank you," they said, turning on their heels and walking back to the conference room. "You can't go in there," Martha said, calling after them. "Joseph Carter?" Tony asked, barging into the room.
The occupants of the meeting glanced at the pair, annoyed at the interruption. "What do you want?" a tall thin man growled.
"I'm Tony DiNozzo, this is Ziva David, we're from NCIS," he said as they flashed their IDs.
"What's NCIS?" he asked.
"Naval Criminal Investigative Services," Martha supplied. Joe glanced at her a moment before turning his attention back to Tony.
"We need to speak with you in private," Ziva said.
"I'm busy here."
"It's important. It's about Anna Donner," Tony said, beginning to get annoyed.
"Yeah? What about her? She hasn't shown up for work in days."
"This isn't the place to talk about that. We really should discuss this in private," Tony said.
"Well whatever it is can wait."
Tony grew tired of the arrogant man's attitude, "She's dead," he said. "She was killed yesterday and her body was dumped. Is that good enough for you?" he growled.
Martha gasped as the occupants of the room blanched. Joe cleared his throat and said, "My office."
"Are you always this nasty about your employees?" Tony asked once they were in Joe's office.
"Sorry, she was working on a project for this meeting. When she didn't show up for work, I called her at home, looking for her. I tried her cell too and nothing."
"Is it like her to miss work without calling?" Ziva asked.
"No, she even called to say she was running late when she had bad morning sickness." Suddenly a thought struck him. "What is NCIS doing investigating this? She wasn't in the military, neither was her husband."
"We can't say; it's part of the investigation," Tony evasively replied.
Ziva continued her questioning, "Was Anna late often?"
"Not before she got pregnant."
"Do you know if she was having problems with anybody?" Tony asked.
"If she did, she didn't say anything to me about it."
"Did Anna meet with any clients by herself?" was Tony's next question.
"Sure, we all do."
"Was there anyone new that she may have met recently?"
"Yes, Raptor Records," he said, rummaging around the papers on his desk for any information. "Sorry, Anna had the file on them. You might want to check her desk, it's the third cube on the left," he said. He pointed towards a small cubical down the aisle to the left.
"We'll need to take both that and her computer with us," Tony said.
"Did they ever meet at the office?" Ziva continued questioning.
"Yes," Joe replied.
"We'll need to take your security footage from those days as well," Ziva said.
Anna's boss reached for the phone to begin making the necessary calls. "I'll even have the I.T. guys give you a copy of the server logs."
Police headquarters, St. Paul, Minnesota
"Tell me again why NCIS is interested in this case?" Detective Roberts asked as he searched through his files.
"We think it's related to the death of his wife," Gibbs replied.
"Yeah, but she wasn't Navy," he said.
"No, but her dad works for NCIS," Gibbs replied.
Roberts nodded as he handed the file to Gibbs.
"We'll also need any evidence you have," Gibbs said.
"If you want, but the case is closed."
"We have a new lead," Gibbs evasively said.
"I'll have it brought to you."
The Mallard house, Reston Virginia
"Do you want me to help you with the phone calls?" Illya asked.
"No, I'll do it. No one knows you. It'll be easier if I do it myself," April replied, sounding tired.
"Why don't you take a break, lie down for a bit?"
She nodded, "I think I'll do that."
"Good," he said, rubbing her back. "I'm going to go now. Call me if you need anything."
"Ok," she murmured.
"I mean it, anything." He placed a kiss on her forehead before hesitantly leaving.
Illya and Nico silently walked into the funeral home. They scanned the caskets on display; Illya never thought he'd be choosing one for his daughter. "Can I help you?" a middle aged man asked, walking into the room. When the pair turned around to face their visitor he said, "Oh, Ducky. It's been a while; how are you? Do you have another one for me?"
"Not so good, I'm afraid; my daughter died."
"I'm so sorry," he relied with genuine sympathy. "Let me take care of everything; just tell me which casket you want."
Illya nodded, "She's at headquarters."
He placed a comforting hand on Ducky's shoulder, "We'll take care of it."
When they finished, Illya and Nico silently walked to the car. Illya fished the keys out of his pocket, "Why don't you drive back?" he said, holding them out for Nico.
Nico nodded as he reached for the keys. The drive back was mostly quiet, Illya's grief overtaking him. Needing to switch gears, he asked his son, "Did Anya say anything to you?"
"Like what?"
"Like was something or someone bothering her?"
"She said something about feeling like she was being watched."
"Why didn't she call us?"
"I told her to call you but she said she was probably being paranoid. With Rich's death and the pregnancy, she thought it was nothing."
"How long had she been feeling that way?"
"I don't know; since the funeral," he shrugged.
"Why didn't she call us?" Illya sighed.
The Kuryakin men silently walked into the house. Illya went straight to the master suite needing time alone. Opening the door, he found April sitting on the bed surrounded by pictures. Upon closer inspection he found them to be family photos. "I thought it would be nice to put some pictures on a board at the funeral," April quietly said.
Illya stretched onto the bed picking up the nearest photo. It was Nico's first Christmas. Anya sat beneath the tree with Nico on her lap. The memories flooded back to Illya, threatening to drown him. Meanwhile, April stared at a picture taken at the hospital shortly after Anya was born. Illya sat on the bed holding his new baby girl while April watched on. Her smile had been radiant. Now she lay down resting her head on Illya's shoulder letting her mind drift back in time.
U.N.C.L.E. headquarters New York April 10, 1967 11:00 AM
April sat in the Medical waiting for Doctor Jones to speak with her. They had just finished another grueling fight against Thrush. She hadn't been feeling good before the mission and the illness had intensified. She quickly wrote her report and elected to be debriefed first so she could slip away to Medical. Her stomach was in knots when Doctor Jones finally arrived. He sat on the stool next to the gurney, silently reviewing the results a moment. "Well, it looks like congratulations are in order."
April wasn't sure she understood, "Congratulations?" she asked.
"You and Illya are going to have a baby," he replied, smiling
April sat in shock. They hadn't planned to have children, at least not yet. Was she going to be a good mother? Would Illya be a good father? How would Illya take the news? What would Mr. Waverly say about this? All those questions were making her dizzy. She pushed them aside deciding to take things one step at a time. "Thank you, Doctor," she said.
"I'll write a prescription for prenatal vitamins and you'll need to see me next month."
"Ok," she replied. As she watched him write the prescription a thought came to her. "Are you going to tell Mr. Waverly?"
"I'm going to have to tell him when we have our weekly briefing, yes," he said, handing her the small piece of paper.
"When is that?"
"On Monday, but I can put it off for a week or two to give you time to inform Illya and make plans."
April thought it over a minute. That would give her plenty of time to tell Illya and decide what to do next. She didn't want to give up being a field agent, especially not now, but she had to do what was best for the baby. "Ok, thank you," she said on her way out.
April found her husband in the commissary loading a tray with enough food to feed three people. She walked up to him hoping to convince him to go home early. "Ah, there you are. I was about to send a search party for you," he said.
She glanced at the tray taking a deep breath. The smells of the food suddenly made her stomach do flip-flops. She had felt this way around food for the past month but hadn't realized why. "Illya, if you continue to eat like that people will think I don't feed you."
He gave her a ghost of a smile. "Sorry, I'm hungry."
"You're always hungry," Napoleon quipped from behind.
April smiled, about to add her own retort when she felt her stomach turn on her. She ran to the bathroom; Illya handed his tray to Napoleon and ran after her. Illya knelt beside her in the stall, watching as his wife emptied the contents of her stomach. When the retching stopped Illya said, "I'm taking you to Medical."
"No," she said. "Not right now."
"April, you haven't been feeling good and I just watched you vomit. You need to see a doctor."
"Actually, I just came from there. What I want now is to go home, with you. We have a lot to talk about."
He looked at her, worried. She placed her hand on his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "All right," he relented.
Later at their apartment, April led Illya to the couch. "Illya, darling, I know we haven't really talked about it, but I'm pregnant."
Illya was stunned. "What?" was all he managed to say.
"I'm pregnant. We're going to have a baby. You and I are going to be parents," she rambled.
Illya wrapped his arms around her pulling her into a tight embrace. When the hug ended April pulled back to find a big goofy grin on Illya's face. Before she had a chance to speak he captured her lips with his. When the kiss ended he pulled back and looked deep into her eyes. "Thank you," he murmured.
His smile was contagious. April found herself smiling. She hadn't been sure what his reaction would be to the news. She wasn't even sure how she felt about it herself. They loved Napoleon's twins and always enjoyed playing with them, but a child of their own? "Is something wrong?" Illya worried.
"No, it's just that I'm still in shock," she shrugged.
"You love children."
"Yes I do, and I want my own. It's just… I didn't think I'd be a mom so soon."
He smiled at her, "You'll be the best mother I could ever want for my children."
"I should be the only mother you want for your children." She smiled, the shock quickly melting away. He kissed her again, effectively ending any doubts she had about being a mother. When the kiss ended he led her to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes in their wake. "I thought you were hungry," she said between kisses.
"I am, but that can wait." She smiled at her husband as he lowered her to the bed.