Solo stared at the clock.
Peril had been gone for a while now.
Even though he never worried about the tall Russian.
Today was one of those rare days, he did.
The Room they stayed in was small.
Far smaller than the others.
It was enough for them.
For this mission.
Solo played with his glass.
The liquid sloshed lazily.
He had filled the glass with whatever expensive alcohol he had found in the mini bar.
He glanced at the door.
Expecting Illya to burst through it any minute now.
He didn't.
Illya had left in a hurry, not saying anything.
Solo took another zip.
He should have followed his partner.
That's what real friends would do.
They had long crossed the line of just being partners.
He was his friend.
The only human being, besides Gaby, who knew him really.
Maybe better than his parents ever had.
He always had been a loner.
Quick, not important and superficial relationships were his thing.
Not letting people see the real Napoleon Solo.
It was the last he had expected to find in his teammates.
Real friends.
He didn't dare to call them family.
Because deep down he knew they were.
"Where are you Peril?" He huffed annoyed and scolded himself for letting the Russian go.
Illya hadn't looked good as they had returned.
The sleepless nights took a toll on the man and the guilt was crushing the poor Russian.
Who knew to what Kuryakin was capable of in his state.
Solo got up and strode to the window, glancing out on the streets.
Snow was falling softly and sticking on the streets below him.
None was out.
It had started to snow when they had left the compound.
The white, small flakes had settled on their hair and on the ground around them as they had snuck down the forest road.
Solo had recked his brain to comfort the Russian, because he knew the words of the goon had gotten to Illya.
The Russian had thick skin, but not when it came to Gaby.
Gaby was his weakness.
And she was his too.
She was his best friend.
A little sister he never had.
So they had ran down the almost overgrown road to their hidden car in silence.
At the car Solo had finally found words.
Not good ones.
He had cringed at them inwardly.
"You think she's still alive?" Illya had shot him a glare over the roof of the car. Any other man would have run for cover.
"She's tough!" Solo had assured him, but the words sounded lame in his ears.
"I'll find her! I always do!" Kuryakin had whispered almost inaudible, getting into the car and Solo had to hurry to get in as well.
Solo watched the snowflakes fall.
The snow made Solo aware that Gaby had been gone for weeks now.
Nobody could survive torture in this magnitude for that long.
Gaby was small and she had been sick for a couple of days.
Weak.
They had been concerned about her and he remembered her on that couch.
Pale, nearly translucent.
The panic in Peril's eyes.
The helplessness they had both felt, not able to help her.
It was not a good start to endure torture.
The woman in the morgue.
Looking like Gaby.
The reality made him gasp for air.
He always had been aware, he would lose a teammate eventually and he had in the past.
None of them had meant something to him.
None had made him pray to be alive, to hold on just a little longer.
He never thought it would have been Gaby.
Peril maybe.
Being the hero and trying to safe them.
Safe her.
The Russian had made it to his own mission to play Gaby's guardian angel.
Always looking out for her.
Making sure she was safe.
That idiot was in love with her and wouldn't dare to admit it.
His actions were louder than words, but of course the KGB agent would never admit.
Would blame his behavior on the current mission.
Solo had found it really funny to watch them both.
Tease them.
It was his personal entertainment.
Finally he had believed the Russian would take the necessary step, but then came the betrayal and it had driven the chop shop girl away from Peril.
He had seen Illya's despair.
Solo knew the tall Russian never wanted it this way.
He had felt for Kuryakin.
Realization kicked in.
It was nearly crushing him and he had to sit down on the windowsill.
Suddenly Napoleon understood Peril's denial.
It meant never being able to tell her.
How sorry he was.
How much he loved her.
Admitting he failed her.
Solo knew how much Illya needed her.
How was he supposed to tell him?
To make him see?
He didn't want to believe it either.
There had been so many times she had almost died.
Always strolled away from it.
He almost expected her to walk in.
Halting in the doorframe and looking at him annoyed.
Scolding him for not pouring her a drink as well.
He downed his drink.
Ignoring the burn in his throat.
Tiredly he pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily.
Solo let his head fall back on the cold window, closing his eyes exhausted, remembering a night.
A night he had made a promise.
Moonlight had fallen through the windows as he had returned from a night out.
The safehouse was in a quiet part of the town.
They had to lay low.
It didn't held him back to go out, leaving Peril and Gaby alone in the house.
A beautiful one he had to admit.
One part of him had hoped Illya would finally take a step.
A much needed step.
So of course he hadn't expected the little mechanic rising from one of the armchairs in the moon lit living room.
"Can't sleep?" He had asked casually, not used for someone to stay up waiting for him, draping his coat over the couch.
She had crossed her arms over the morning coat she was wearing.
Her hair was slightly ruffled from sleep or better the tossing and turning caused by the lack of sleep.
Napoleon had noticed her wearing the silk nightgown underneath it.
The nighty they had bought together.
Probably both in their minds to push the Russian the extra inch he needed.
Somehow he had admired the Russian for his self restraint, because if he would have been alone with a woman dressed like that… He hadn't let his thoughts go too far.
"Where is the tall Russian shadow following you everywhere?" He had asked and smiled at the German woman, who had looked determined.
She had ignored his question.
"We need to talk!" Her jaw was set hard and he had known she wouldn't let him change her mind.
"Alright! Drink?" He had asked, stepping to the liquor cabinet.
Not waiting for an answer he had poured them both a drink and sat down, giving Gaby her tumbler.
The small woman had taken the seat next to Solo and had watched the ember liquid in her glass as if she needed to draw up her courage.
Solo had waited for her.
Giving her the time she needed.
"He was shot because of me" Her voice had been quiet.
Her eyes still on the liquid.
It was not a question.
Just a simple statement.
It had let him pause and he had looked at her.
"Gaby… it's not your fault. We both know he would throw himself in front of any danger coming your way! Even though you're giving him the silent treatment for way too long" This had made her look up, frowning at him. "That man has been in love since he probably had laid eyes on you! We both know he's not afraid of getting tortured, beaten and shot, but admitting his feelings towards you... it scares the shit out of KGB's best agent!" He had winked at her and even though the light was bad, he had thought to see Gaby's cheeks turning red.
She had nestled with her morning gown, zipping on her drink. "He was almost killed today…because of me!" She had whispered.
He had had to strain his ears to understand her.
"Sometimes I wonder if anything could kill or break that man!" He had half joked, glancing at the little mechanic and knowing all too well what would break the giant of a Russian.
Gaby had rolled her beautiful eyes at him and had drowned her whole drink.
"I need you to promise me something Napoleon!" She had said. Her voice thick with authority and he hadn't dared to speak up.
So he had made a promise.
Gaby had even made him pinky swear on it as if he would break a promise to her.
He wouldn't.
Never.
Although it scared him and he had wished it would never happen.
His eyes flew to the clock again.
He should go out and look for Peril.
He owed him.
Her.
A sound at the door made his head snap up.
His head all of a sudden clear.
Someone tried to break in.
