Sacrifices for the Greater Good
Recovery VI
The day their carefully constructed lives fell apart was not a particularly normal day for them. For Gaby it had begun more or less as all other days, she had given her two boys a quick kiss before setting off for the garage early, prepared for a long morning. Their little town was holding a small festival to celebrate the day it was founded. It was quite a minor event, more for the inhabitants than for anyone else, but still some non-residents travelled to the town to enjoy the festivities. Their landlord, who owned many of the houses in the area, had been particularly looking forward to the event. After only a small amount of pestering, John had admitted to Gaby that one of his old friends was going to be stopping by for an unexpected visit.
The event would be going on all day, and Mr Dunn in his unending kindness had offered her the afternoon off to enjoy it. Illya already had the day off, and immediately used the opportunity to take Eric around all the little stalls and attractions. As always seemed to happen when they were both left along for too long, by the time Gaby found them they were both messy, probably as a result of the small tub of ice cream Illya was coaxing Eric into trying. She had only rolled her eyes when Illya had started trying to give her excuses, secretly pleased that at least it would not be up to her to clean it all up. With both of them working long hours, they had divided up the housework between them, and washing came under Illya's territory.
Their relationship now was yet another new experience, it still held some of the domesticity of their last mission: Gaby still cooked but that was now her only job, Illya had taken over the cleaning. But it was less restrictive than their mission, Gaby could now pursue some of her own goals instead of being stuck in the house all day. What had disappeared was their independence. On the mission and at their London flat they had mostly been free to leave the house on an evening, having a child firmly put a stop to all evening excursions. Eric's presence was not the inconvenience it may have seemed on paper, yes he was still a baby and did restrict their activities, but it all seemed worth it. Nights out at restaurants might have been scrapped, but they were replaced by outings to the park, and story time at night, and playdates with other young families in the area.
It was surprising how quickly they had come to be friendly with so many people. Gaby and Illya had always feared that their secrecy and vague comments about their past would alienate them from many others, but in a group of parents the past was rarely brought up. Instead they commiserated the long nights and lack of sleep, and celebrated mundane little occurrences like first words and jokes about parenting techniques. They spotted many of their fellow parents as they wandered about, stopping to greet each friendly smiles.
Gaby was grumbling good-naturedly to one such couple about Illya's nightly habit of reading bedtime stories to Eric in every language but English, when she suddenly stopped mid-speech as she noticed something over the woman's shoulder. She had snapped back into reality soon after, and her first instinct had been to leave as soon as possible.
"Honey," she said to Illya suddenly, hoping she managed to disguise the panic, "we should probably get back and feed Eric."
He was smart enough not to question her, and they bid a brief farewell to their companions before hastily leaving the area. Illya did not question her until they arrived at home, hefting a disgruntled Eric up who had not been best pleased to leave the place with all the exciting things to look at.
"Gaby, what is it?"
"I saw Waverly." She said, he stilled suddenly his grip seeming to tighten around their son.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. I don't know if he saw us. Why the hell would he be here? He must have found out we were alive." She managed to deliver in panicked stream of outspoken thoughts. Seeing her state, Illya put down Eric into his playpen and moved over to calm her down, the weight of his hands on a shoulder had more effect than empty platitudes.
"What do you want to do?" Illya asked her, and she immensely appreciated his acceptance of her sighting. Some might have not believed her, and would have thought her ravings to be the remains of an understandable paranoia.
"We should leave." She said after a moment, hating the idea even as she said it. She didn't want to uproot their lives on the off chance that Waverly had spotted and recognised them, but it was more important that they protect their child
"This is my fault." Illya murmured quietly. "I should never have suggested we settle here."
"Don't be ridiculous." She snapped. "There's no point worrying about that, we need to think about where we are going to go." She stepped forward and took his face into her hands, looking at him with the utmost seriousness. "Waverly seeing us is no one's fault, neither of us could have imagined he would come here."
They both froze when they heard a sound on the door, Illya immediately dove into a nearby cupboard and emerged with a gun.
"Where did you get that?" Gaby hissed. "Has it just been hiding under the sink this whole time?" He didn't answer and merely clicked off the safety, moving into a position behind the door where he could easily shoot the next person to walk in. Putting aside her concern in favour of a far more pressing worry, Gaby took a deep breath and opened the door, barely even surprised to see Waverly standing before her.
"Miss Teller." He inclined his head by way of greeting, speaking as though the last time they had seen each other was the previous week rather than over a year past. "I suppose Mr Kuryakin is aiming a gun at my head, could you ask him to lower it please? I'm not here for a fight." Out of the corner of her eye she could see Illya comply but still not replacing the safety back on his gun.
"Come in." Gaby said simply, making sure to move so that shielded Eric from their guest's gaze.
"Kuryakin." Waverly nodded at the still armed former KGB agent. "It is good to see you both in such good health, although I have to admit to being somewhat surprised to find you both still among the living." Neither responded, causing the atmosphere to thicken with tension. Waverly barely seemed to notice. "I suspect the bodies we recovered from the wreck of the house were…?"
"George and Rose Russell." Gaby replied, her voice clear and without guilt for once when pronouncing those names. She no longer punished herself for her actions, as far as she was concerned the ends had actually justified the means.
"I thought so. It's rather a shame, we gave you quite a decent send off. More than they deserved at least." He said conversationally. "The funeral was admittedly not very well attended, but I'm sure you would have appreciated it. Agent Solo was inconsolable."
"How did you find us?" Illya asked gruffly, ignoring Waverly's mostly irrelevant prattle.
"Believe it or not, I wasn't actually looking for you." Waverly revealed. "I thought you had died in that explosion, I was only here visiting a friend of mine. A rather startling coincidence I must admit, but a coincidence it was. It was very disconcerting spotting you at the fair, well spotting Kuryakin at least." He paused a moment to critically examine Illya's towering frame. "You really need more than a change in hair colour as a disguise." He suggested, sounding a little disappointed in him. "I told your companions I knew you, and asked where you lived."
"Are you going to turn us in?" Gaby demanded, her unintentionally loud voice startling the happily playing child behind them to tears. Illya pressed the gun into her hand, and gave his attention to the child, missing the startled look that crossed Waverly's face. Gaby could practically hear him to the mathematics in his head as he estimated Eric's age.
"Of course," he said eventually, "I had quite forgotten. With hindsight I should have been a little more suspicious of the… convenience of your deaths, you certainly had the motivation to make a sudden disappearance."
"You haven't answered my question." Gaby noted aloud, her hand wrapping tightly around the gun. It would not be an elegant solution, if Waverly died suddenly at the same time as a local couple disappeared there would be a great many questions.
"I have no intention of doing so," he said simply, "I have nothing to gain by it. If anything, I would be punished for not taking further pains to correctly identify the bodies. The KGB would be particularly displeased at my incompetent, they might even accuse me of a conspiracy."
He spoke frankly and honestly about his situation, putting them both more at ease than if he had insisted it was out of respect and admiration for them that he would not reveal their survival. After a moment of hesitation, Gaby replaced the safety and set the gun aside.
"I'll make us all some tea." She suggested,
"How very British of you." Waverly said almost approvingly, and took a seat at the small dining table. Illya still watched him warily as Gaby pottered around the kitchen, collecting mugs and heating the kettle.
"Are you working for MI6 again?" Illya asked.
"Yes, UNCLE was dismantled shortly after you both left." He phrased delicately. "I'm now head of a surveillance department."
"And Napoleon?" Gaby asked, placing steaming mugs in front of each of them. It had been a subject she and Illya had wondered about since they had faked their deaths.
"He is well." Waverly confirmed. "Still working for the CIA, I believe he has under a year left of his time with them. I've kept an eye on him, he's been well behaved for a while now. It seems unlikely the CIA will be able to extend his sentence." Gaby and Illya shared a pleased look. "Have you both been keeping busy?"
"More or less." She agreed. "Eric is probably the most excitement we have nowadays."
"How old is he?" Waverly asked, smiling at the child as he stared at the unfamiliar person.
"Ten months."
"He looks like you, Kuryakin." Waverly noted, not missing the pride that lit up the father's face. "I imagine it must be difficult for you both not to have been able to share him with your own families." His words niggled at Illya.
"Have you heard any news about my father?" He asked, and Waverly's expression turned grave. He barely needed to hear what the older man had to say, he could already guess what news was to be delivered.
"He passed away quite recently, I'm sorry to say." Illya gave a perfunctory nod in response, Gaby watched him with some concern, wary of how he would react. He had not had an episode in so long, she worried that this revelation might set him off, but he still looked calm.
Sensing this was not a topic to linger on, Waverly changed the subject to their former UNCLE co-workers, telling them what he knew about what had happened to them. It was nice to hear, especially for Gaby who had tended to socialise more than Illya. His detachment from everyone except her and Napoleon had mostly been a product of his knowledge that UNCLE would not last forever and it was best not to make any attachments. Napoleon and Gaby had been the ones too stubborn to allow him to apply this to them as well.
Long after the mugs had emptied and gone cold, Waverly took a regretful look at his watch and announced that he had to leave, he had already spent too long at the house with them. Gaby had felt surprisingly sad to see him go, it have been an unexpected pleasure to see a face from their shared past and she only wished he could have stayed longer. They walked him to the door to bid him farewell, and watched him leave from the doorway.
"I'm sorry about your father." Gaby said once he had disappeared from sight, she lifted up a hand to his cheek and watched as he relaxed into her touch.
"I lost my father a long time ago. " He said, echoing her own response from years past. She pressed her lips to his sweetly, her gesture a chaste but loving reminder that he now had another family to love and cherish.
Author's Note: So that's Waverly entering the picture. Hope you've enjoyed so far!