Chapter Twelve

1967.

The two agents her father had assigned to her, left her alone in the small apartment for visitors once she had been cleared by Medical. It had taken her father putting in an appearance to explain her "seizure" as normal before the doctors had stopped with the tests. She sat on the edge of the small twin bed, her kit on the floor by the door. Now that she was alone, she let the residual of the vision wash over her, trying to make some sense out of it. But all she knew was that the event would happen in the future and be devastating when it did. Pulling herself together she unpacked, placing the few changes of clothing she had in the drawers of the dresser provided.

She would have to see about civilian clothes, since she hadn't brought but a single change and seriously doubted that there would be time to send back to the base for her things. Luckily, she had brought her checkbook so that shouldn't be a problem. She was just hanging up her class Bs when a soft knock came from her door. She reached for her side arm, a reflex movement, before opening it. She eased the hammer down to the same half grin on Kuryakin's face when he saw that she had answered armed.

"While I can appreciated the thought, I don't think you need that here." He said his voice amused. She motioned him in and shrugged.

"Habit." She laid the small pistol on the night stand.

"Nice habit." He looked around the room. "I came to see if you would care to join Napoleon and myself for dinner." He appeared to be ill at ease and she had the feeling that he didn't socialize much. For about half a second she considered refusing, on general principle, but she was going to have to work with these two, her orders left her no choice.

"What did you have in mind?" she asked, running through her limited wardrobe choices. She had single pair of patched hip huggers, something guaranteed to piss off the old man, and a tie dyed shirt, packed for the same reason.

"There's a jazz club in the village that is very pleasant." He said shyly.

"Great. I like jazz." She smiled taking him up on the invitation. "Can you give me a few minutes to change?"

"Certainly. If you would like you can meet us in Napoleon's office? Give me a chance to finish up a few things." Illya said. He handed her a yellow triangular pass, similar to the ones that he and his partner wore. "This is your pass to the offices. Napoleon's is easy to find, just follow the sound of women's voices."

"I understand." She said smiling as she took it from him. "That'll be just fine. I need to finish unpacking and change. I'll be there in say, thirty minutes?"

Illya nodded. She saw him out and watched him walk away, wondering what had sparked the invitation. He hadn't struck her as the social type, but then, he might be. She was about to find out.

She took a few moments to check out her appearance, so radically different from the uniformed officer she had been just fifteen minutes ago. Her hair hung loose except for a braid at her temple to her mid shoulders, she had tied the braid with a feather fetish that she had gotten somewhere. The tie dyed shirt came only to her midriff, baring her belly button. The hip huggers were painted on, she had to lie down to zip them, but now that she was up and moving around they were loosening up. A chain belt swung from the loops and bumped against her knee. One of her ankles rang with bells from the anklet she had, her toe nails shone with brilliant purple nail polish easily seen with the sandals she had on. She topped off the whole look with a pair of purple tinted shades ala the Beatles.

"A bit over the top, but should get the message across nicely." She said to the room. The yellow badge didn't really go with the outfit so she stuck it to the strap of her large macrame handbag. Pleased that she would make her point, she opened the door and headed out into the halls of the 'establishment.'

The looks she garnered from the people she passed were priceless. She fully expected the office grapevine to inform her father before she had the chance to slip out. She had timed her arrival at Napoleon's office perfectly, he and Illya both looked up as she opened the door. For a moment, she almost laughed at the stunned looks on their faces but they both recovered quickly. Napoleon grinning widely, closed the file they were working on and stood. She wasn't sure what was going on behind the blue eyes of the Russian, but she figured she might just have lost whatever opportunity she had with him, not that she was planning on messing around with one of her father's people. OK, well she had thought about it, for about thirty seconds and had dismissed it as a really bad thing to do.

"Well, we're done here for now." Napoleon said. Illya stood as well and the three of them headed for reception. "You mind if I ask you a question?"

"Certainly, you can ask. Doesn't guarantee you'll get an answer." She said as they moved down the hall.

"Pagan Michelle!" came the bellow from the opposite end of the corridor. All three of them stopped, Napoleon and Illya turning automatically. She hesitated, knowing full well what that tone in her father's voice meant. She wasn't disappointed, he was storming toward them, his face red and his eyes raking over her like mad.

"Yes?" she replied coolly.

He stopped a few feet in front of her, his voice dripping with displeasure. "What is the meaning of this?" he motioned to her attire. "There is a dress code in..."

"Excuse me." She looked at the large clock hanging at the end of the hall, then at Napoleon. "What about it?"

"You will comport..."

She interrupted him once more. "Two things Old Man, first off, it's after hours and I'm off duty. Secondly, I haven't lived under your roof in six years therefore you have no say in my dress." She looked at him. "And if you still have trouble with either of those, sit on this." She flipped him the bird and walked away leaving Waverly with his jaw hanging open. Napoleon and Illya wisely decided to completely ignore the incident after exchanging glances. They hurried to catch up to her. She was fuming silently as she signed out of the register and handed the receptionist the badge.

Neither of them knew what to say after the display of animosity in the hallway. She gave them a slightly apologetic smile.

"Look, I understand if that made you all uncomfortable. If you would rather-" the offer was unsaid but she was willing to let the dinner invite slide.

Illya spoke quickly. "Please join us."

"Yes, it would be our pleasure and besides we need to get to know a bit about you if we are going to be working together." Napoleon agreed, he was in awe of someone who wasn't afraid to stand up to Mr. Waverly.

"You don't think it will cause trouble for you do you?" she asked suddenly reluctant to do so. She hadn't thought about how it might reflect on the two at least not until now.

"I seriously doubt it, Miss Waverly." Napoleon said smoothly leading the way to where he had his car parked. They were going to stop by his place and Illya's to give them the chance to change for dinner, then they would be heading to the club.

"Please, Miss Waverly is someone else." She said as Illya opened the car door for her. Once she was settled, he slid into the backseat.

"Ms. St. John?" Napoleon asked.

"Sounds like my mother." She thought for a second. "Actually I prefer Paige. Pagan is just too odd, and I hate the name Michelle, that's what they called me when I was a kid. But Paige will work."

"Paige it is." They both agreed.

Dinner had been a very nice affair. The company was great, Napoleon doing most of the talking, but Illya had told a few stories and really knew his jazz. She found herself liking the duo despite their employer. She reciprocated, telling a bit about her childhood parent and her "talent". Not that there was a lot to tell about it, it was infrequent and often didn't make sense until after the fact. But it was part and parcel of her and the reason she had been loaned out. At the end of the evening she found herself being escorted back to UNCLE by Illya, Napoleon having plans for later.

With an effort she pulled herself from the past to focus on the here and now. She had no idea what time it was, only that it was getting late and she was still no closer to a decision regarding the morrow's events. She shook her head, she could remember so clearly, their first date, and all the subsequent time they spent together, just as if it had happened yesterday. And seeing him again today, despite the passage of years, he still had the power to make her knees weak.

Her heart was saying that she could still trust him with her life, but her mind countered maybe with hers but there were more lives at stake than that. Then add into that the need she had to protect her son, to keep him safe from any possible repercussions, she really wasn't sure what she should do.

The words of Phoenix bothered her as well. The fact that the hand of fate was on them, and the guardians wishing to go... she sighed. It sounded to her as if the choice wasn't really hers to make. She honestly didn't know what was worse, having to make a choice or having no choice at all.

Finally, just as the night sky started to lighten, she came to a kind of solution. Not exactly her first choice but this would take care of it all. She stood and stretched, might as well try to get a little sleep, she thought and headed up to her room.