March, 1950 - London

"Well, my friends, another chapter of my life has come to an end, and I'm now free to live my life as that most dreaded of specimens - a civilian," Stephen Edwards announced, raising his glass and saluting his friends. His military career officially over, he forced himself not to become maudlin when he thought about the path that had brought him to this point. Alexander Waverly, Constantine Wainright and Charlie Townsend had served with him in the OSS and they had earned the nickname The Four Horsemen for their exploits working with the French Resistance. It would be difficult not to see them as much as he used to, but he had done his best for king and country. It was now time to move on, to focus on his wife and daughter and the new life they had in Maryland.

"Hear hear," Constantine (Connie to his closest friends) toasted. "Just don't let the government con you into joining the CIA. They've been hounding me for months and I swear I'm going to have to go into hiding so the phone will stop ringing."

"Are you kidding?" Charlie scoffed. "If he even so much as looks like he's headed back to government service, the Soviets will be the least of his worries." They shared a laugh as they thought of Stephen's wife, the indomitable Suzanne Delacroix Edwards. She and Stephen had met while serving in the Special Operations Executive in Paris; part of the Allied attempt to subvert the Axis powers, OSE operatives were trained in guerilla tactics and psyops and worked closely with the resistance forces throughout Europe and Asia. It was dangerous and stressful work, and in those circumstances, they had almost immediately fallen in love. An unexpected lull in the action had allowed them to secretly marry in 1941 and by late 1942 their daughter, Jennifer, was born. Determined to protect his family, Stephen enlisted the help of his friends to get Suzanne and Jennifer to safety in London and he had stayed behind in Paris to see the mission through to the end. It had been a nearly two year journey before he could get back to his girls, one that included a serious injury and a lengthy hospital stay but in the end, they were reunited. By the time the Nazis were on the ropes, Suzanne was given one last assignment - to infiltrate Hitler's Wolf's Den to obtain information that could be used in a post-war world to document the horrors of totalitarianism. By 1948, Suzanne had retired from active service but Stephen, concerned about the coming Cold War and the impact it would have on his daughter's future, had stayed in the Army. Eventually all the missed milestones and time apart had led him to the only regrets he'd ever had and the siren song of retirement had seduced him.

"Alex, are you ok?" Charlie asked, noticing that the older man had become uncharacteristically silent.

"Yes...fine…"

"Come on old bean," Connie prodded. "We all know the quieter you get, the worse things are. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, exactly it's just...I don't think we're as finished with government service as you think we are."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Charlie asked.

"It means the Americans want us to help them create a global law enforcement network."

"Well tell them to bugger off!" Stephen scoffed.

Alexander rolled his eyes. "I'll be sure to tell General Eisenhower just that the next time he calls."

"Guess you got sent to bed without supper," Charlie laughed. Stephen had the good graces to look embarrassed at first, but then began laughing himself.

"I suppose I deserve that," he admitted. "But seriously, why us? Aren't there bureaucrats with far more resources and connections than we have who are better equipped for this kind of work?"

"That's exactly what the General and his allies here in Europe hope to avoid. After what we've all just been through and with tensions escalating in Korea, there is too much danger in concentrated power. Eisenhower's men want the four of us to lay the foundation for a global law enforcement agency that will operate outside any official government jurisidiction. We would be affiliated with the U.N. and would take recommendations from world leaders but the final say in our missions would lie with us.."

The men were silent for a moment as they considered Alexander's proposition. Connie was the first to speak. "Again, why us? We're about as different as oil and water."

"Through difference comes strength," Stephen replied.

"Now you just sound like an Army recruitment poster," Charlie scoffed.

"Charles!" Alexander admonished. "Stephen is right. This is something that requires complementary skill sets. We have proven time and again that we work well together. They already know what we're capable of. Besides, if not us, who? If we have learned anything in the past few years it's that good men will stay silent in the face of fear. I'm not afraid gentlemen, are you?"

Connie shook his head. "Hell no."

Stephen chuckled. "Only of Suzanne but I'm sure she'll approve."

"What the hell," Charlie shrugged. "You only live once. If we can make a difference, let's do it. I can wait to start my detective agency."

Alexander nodded his approval and reached into his briefcase for manila folders which he passed around the table. "Well, gentlemen, I knew I could count on you. Let's get started. We have a world to save."

June, 1951 - Washington, D.C.

Suzanne Edwards could barely contain her anger as she stormed up the steps to her husband's art gallery and pushed her way through the massive Tiffany stained glass doors, nearly knocking the director over in her haste to find Stephen.

"Mrs. Edwards," he called out as she breezed past, "can I help you?"

"No thank you James, I just need to speak to my husband."

Several moments later, Stephen Edwards wished he had somewhere else to be as his wife thundered past his secretary and blew into his office.

"Good afternoon dear!"

"Don't you 'dear' me, Stephen! How could you?"

"How could I what?" His mind raced as he tried to figure out what he had done to incur his wife's wrath. "Did I leave my socks on the floor again?"

Suzanne rolled her eyes. "Don't be smart with me. I just had lunch with Connie Wainwright. He let it slip that you're working for the Company again. How could you?"

"Oh….that…."

"Yes that!" she vented, her accent growing thicker as her anger grew. "You promised you wouldn't go back to the CIA after Jennifer was born. It's too dangerous!" She had begun to pace back and forth and Stephen crossed the room and took her hands, forcing her to stop and look into his eyes.

"I'm not back, I promise. I'm just a consultant."

"You expect me to believe that?" Suzanne scoffed.

"You have my word, Sweetheart. I am not back on active duty."

"Then why did Connie act like he'd made a mistake by telling me? He wouldn't handle a mere consultant," she protested, determined not to give in to him.

Exasperated, Stephen walked back to his desk, picked up the phone and handed it to her. "Ok, fine. If you don't believe me, call Charles. He's been contacted, too. Maybe if I can't convince you, he can!"

"You want me to call Charlie Townsend? Stephen! I'm a woman - you know how he is around women!"

"Of course I do," Stephen teased. "Why do you think I suggested it?"

Despite her anger, Suzanne hung up the phone and walked into her husband's embrace. "I'm sorry for losing my temper, Stephen, but you're all that Jennifer and I have. We can't lose you."

Stephen held her close and kissed the top of her head. "Suzanne, the two of you are my entire world. I promise you I won't take any unnecessary risks. I was recruited because of my contacts in the art world in Europe. We're trying to recover priceless treasures that were stolen by the Nazis. There's so much that's missing and who knows if we'll ever find it all, but I want to do what I can to put right this terrible wrong. I hope you understand. I planned on telling you, but I knew how much this would worry you and quite frankly, I was trying to avoid this very moment."

Suzanne sighed and was silent as he held her. Finally she was able to speak. "I would expect no less from you, mon cher. You've always put others ahead of yourself and it's part of why I love you so much, but I don't want Jennifer to know about this. She's seen the news and understands far more about current events than we give her credit for. Stephen, Jennifer's scared to death you'll be sent to Korea. I keep telling her you aren't in the Army anymore, but wars frighten anyone,especially children. When she's older we can tell her, but not right now."

"Of course you're right my dear." Stephen marvelled at the incredible insight Suzanne had into their daughter, the maternal instinct which had intimidated men since the dawn of time. Despite his feelings of inadequacy at times, his life revolved around his girls and there was nothing he wouldn't do to keep them safe. "I don't know what I would do without you, Suzanne."

"God willing," she whispered, "you'll never have to know."

October, 1954 - Hillhaven, Maryland

"Good afternoon, ma petite fleur! How was school today?" Suzanne called out as Jennifer hit the back door with the force of a hurricane.

"It was awful! Suzie Gillis wanted me to ask Johnny Preston to go to the Sadie Hawkins dance with her, even though she knows I like him too, and when I told her I wouldn't do it, she went ahead and asked him anyway! He told her he had to think about it, and then he asked me to tell her he doesn't want to go with her. She said that he has to tell her directly himself, and then he wanted to…."

"Take a breath, my dear, " Suzanne chuckled, "how are your classes going?"

"Pretty good. I got a B+ on my last math test, and Mrs. Jameson has assigned us a new project for English. We have to interview someone we think of as a hero. I want to interview you."

Suzanne was taken aback. "Why me, dear?"

Jennifer rolled her eyes in only the way an irritated pre-teen could. "Geez, Mama, I don't know. It's only because you were a war reporter back in the day."

Suzanne stifled a laugh. "Back in the day? That was only thirteen years ago. It's hardly ancient history."

"Yeah but it was before I was born!"

Suzanne ruffled Jennifer's hair and winked at her. "Sometimes I forget you're still a child. What do you need to know?"

"Well, Mrs. Jameson wants us to focus on what it means to be a hero, because that's different for everyone. So maybe, how you started working as a reporter and why you wanted to help people…."

Suzanne's focus wandered as she thought about the past, wondering just exactly how much she should tell her daughter. Jennifer was quite mature for her age - maybe even a bit too mature - so she could handle learning the truth about what had happened during the war, but Suzanne was still apprehensive. There was so much that had happened during those years that in normal times would have been considered inhuman, and Suzanne was afraid that if Jennifer knew too much about her past, it would damage their relationship. Before she could respond, Walter interrupted to let them know that dinner was almost ready, saving her - at least temporarily - from the most difficult discussion of her life.

London, 8:45 a.m.

"Good morning, Dr. Von Berger's office, how may I direct your call?"

"May I please speak to Maria?"

"I'll check and see if she's in, whom may I ask is calling?"

"Tell her it's Mata Hari. She'll know who I am."

A moment later, a woman with a thick German accent answered. "Mata Hari? What did you want to do with that Tiffany lamp in Herr Gottlieb's drawing room?"

"Hit him over the head with it."

"Suzanne! How are you mein liebchen?" Maria was a close friend of Suzanne's; they had worked together during the war and Maria had left Germany in 1949 as part of Operation Paperclip. In return for sharing her expertise in physics with the government, she had been given safe haven and allowed to pursue her dream of teaching. Now an Oxford Fellow in the physics department, nobody would have ever known that she had worked in Hitler's regime before becoming a double agent.

"I've been better, Maria. I need your advice."

"I assumed as much. It's, what, three in the morning there?"
"Almost. I just don't know what to do. Jennifer has to interview someone she considers a hero for her English class and she wants to interview me."

"That's wonderful! You should be proud. Most preteen girls want nothing to do with their mothers."

"Then why do I feel like I have to walk on eggshells? Where would I even begin to tell her about what happened? Jennifer is quite perceptive and if she thinks I'm keeping something from her, she's not going to let up."

"Oh, I can't imagine where she gets that from," Maria laughed.

"Point taken my friend, but seriously, what do I do? What do I say if she asks me if I ever had to hurt anyone?"

"You simply tell her that it was a time when human beings had to do inhumane things to stop monsters. Leave it at that. You're not lying to her, you're just not telling her the whole truth. There is a difference."

"I know you're right," Suzanne sighed. "It's just she's at such a tender age right now - half the time I don't know whether she loves or hates me. I wouldn't want to tell her something that damages our relationship."

"Think of it this way. You know Jennifer better than anyone else on the planet. You carried her inside you for nine months and bonded with her in a way nobody else ever can. Your maternal instincts have guided you this far with her. They will carry you through this, too. It probably sounds rich coming from someone who's never had a child, but trust me. Your heart already knows how to handle this, even if your head isn't quite there yet."

"So you're saying I'm overthinking this?" Suzanne sheepishly asked, already knowing the answer.

"Ja, ich bin meine Liebe. You'll be fine, I promise. Now go to bed before I fly over there and steal that handsome husband of yours."

"Alright! I'm going. I'll let you know how it goes." Suzanne hung up the phone and realized that Maria was right. Whether Jennifer was right or wrong, she considered Suzanne a hero, and she wouldn't dash her daughter's confidence in her by telling her too much. Climbing into bed, she allowed herself to curl up in Stephen's unconscious embrace and she fell asleep thinking of both the past and future and of what kind of young woman Jennifer would become.

February 1963 - The Knightsbridge Club, Stanford, California

The Knightsbridge Club, like other after-hours establishments in a place as upscale as Stanford, served a very particular clientele; with a fully stocked humidor and an exhaustive list of spirits and hard liquor, it was the kind of place men would go to after a long day at work. Although it didn't deny entrance to women, it was generally assumed women had no interest in cigars and brandy, which made it the perfect place for UNCLE agents to spend what little down time they had. Several weeks earlier, however, a young Stanford student had started visiting the club with a friend, undaunted by the fact they were the only women in the room and uncaring that her behavior could hardly be considered ladylike. As such, Mr. Waverly finally decided to put a plan into motion that he had been considering for quite a while, one he had tried before to no avail and one which could revolutionize the entire agency. As he saw it, there was no reason to restrict field work to men, if there were women who were mentally and physically tough enough to stand up to the rigors of it. The question was where to find women of the caliber necessary to integrate UNCLE and from what he had seen of her so far, the answer lay with one Jennifer Suzanne Edwards. But how to get her to show her true self? For that, he would rely on his best "men in the field" - Napoleon Solo and Ilya Kuryakin.

From his place behind the bar, Mark Slate noticed the young redhead walk in with her friends and sit at a table near the back. "Asset acquired, sir," he spoke into his lapel pin, "she's back with her friends again."

"Very good, Mr. Slate," Napoleon responded. "Keep an eye on her. Ilya and I are going to move into position now. Captain Grayson, can you and Mr. Waverly hear us?"

"Loud and clear, sir," the captain responded from a van parked in the alleyway.

"Alright gentlemen, it's time. Here we go."

Napoleon and Ilya took their seats at a table across from the young ladies and immediately began speaking in raised voices.

"I swear, Napoleon, the downfall of civilization as we know it began the minute they started letting women in here." Ilya watched out of the corner of his eye and noticed when the target of his attention did an indignant double take. It was going to be an interesting night to say the least.

"Jennifer, remind me why I come here with you," Sarah Thompson asked her best friend as she tried to ignore the sexist comments.

"Because you want a place to relax and I want a place where I can smoke without anyone staring at me." She removed a massive cigar from her purse and prepared to light it, much to the shock of her friend, Harriet Rosen, who hadn't been to the club before.

"Jennifer! Since when do you smoke cigars?"

"Since I was 15. Our stable hand, Greg, was into them and offered me one. It took some getting used to, but it felt so grown up and sophisticated. Sure, it was an act of teenage rebellion, but I don't smoke them often. I've actually done it more in England - nobody thinks twice about a woman in a cigar club over there. It's a nice way to unwind, really.

Harriet just stared at her friend for a long moment, shock turning to pride as she realized that Jennifer wasn't quite as straightlaced as she seemed. "You realize what this means, don't you, Sarah? She's one of us!"

Sarah dissolved into a fight of laughter and Jennifer had the good graces to blush as she lit the cigar and took a long draw, much to the chagrin of the men sitting next to them.

"I agree with you Ilya," the older man sighed, rolling his eyes, "women are going to be the death of this place. I bet she doesn't even know anything about that heater she's smoking." Napoleon turned and nailed Jennifer with a look that could have cut glass, waiting to see her reaction.

"I beg your pardon!" she responded, returning his icy stare with one of her own. "I'll have you know this is a Partagas Lusitania, from one of the oldest cigar manufacturers in the world. The company was founded in Cuba by Don Jaime Partagas in 1845 and if he hadn't gotten killed in a lover's spat, the company would probably have stayed in his family. Two years ago, the current cigar master fled the revolution and they're now made in the Dominican Republic. Is that enough knowledge for you?"

Napoleon had the good graces to look chastened. "Well it's awfully...big...for a little girl like yourself."

Jennifer raised her eyebrow. "I can handle the big ones…."

Sarah groaned. "If you two knuckle dragging troglodytes are finished whipping it out, we're trying to have a lady's night here, ok?"

Ilya whistled and tried not to laugh. "Well Napoleon, I guess we've been told. Maybe we should move on?"

"And let morally loose women keep us from enjoying our Friday night? I don't think so, my friend."

"Loose?" Harriet shrieked, not caring that her outburst caused a sudden hush to fall over the club as she jumped up and got in Napoleon's face. "Do I look loose? How the hell am I loose?"

"Trust me, Mister, she's the most tightly wound woman I know," Sarah warned. "You really don't want to mess with her."

He tried to push Harriet away, but before he could, Jennifer put herself between the two of them, grabbed his arm and used his forward momentum to execute a perfect judo move that had him on the floor before he realized what was happening. She was just about to put her foot on his chest when Ilya intervened and silently helped Napoleon up. After the older man had brushed himself off and regained his breath he announced: "Congratulations, Miss Edwards, you passed the test."

"Wait, how do you know who I am?"

"We know everything about you. Come with us please."

"Well that didn't take a turn for the creepy at all did it?" Sarah said as she watched the two men escort her friend from the building, the cute blond bartender in tow.

As they exited the club, Jennifer forced herself not to panic when they entered a narrow alleyway behind which a white unmarked van was parked. They already knew she was proficient in martial arts and she hoped they wouldn't try anything else, if only because she didn't want to be responsible for what might happen to them. Before she could ask what was going on, an Army captain and a distinguished older gentleman emerged from the van.

"Miss Edwards, I'm Captain William Grayson, Fifth Special Forces Group, and this is Alexander Waverly."

Jennifer's eyes grew wide when she realized she recognized the name. "I know you! You worked with my father during the war."

"That I did, young lady. Stephen Edwards is one of the most forthright and upstanding men I have ever had the pleasure to call a friend. Come right this way." They entered the building from a hidden entrance at the back and stepped into what looked like a government office. "Please take a seat. I hope you don't feel taken advantage of, Miss Edwards, but we had to be certain you were the one."

"The one for what?"

"As you know, your father and I served together in the OSS during the war. Afterward, we were approached by the United Nations to create a global law enforcement agency called UNCLE."

"The United Nations Command For Law Enforcement. Yes, Pa told me about it after my mother died. He said that losing her made him realize that life was too short to keep secrets and he wanted me to know the truth about the both of them. But what does UNCLE have to do with me?"

"Mr. Waverly had the brilliant idea to integrate our field work," Mark explained, "but we were at a loss as to how to recruit our first female agent. It's not exactly like you can put a want ad in the paper when you work for an extragovernmental agency. Fortunately, you started coming here. Mr. Waverly has this place surveilled to prevent infiltration from THRUSH, so naturally when he saw you on the closed circuit cameras, he recognized you right away. It was always his intention to recruit you, given your father's ties to the organization, but you made it easier than we thought it would be."

"But why all the subterfuge? Why not just ask?"

"We had to be certain you possessed certain skills first," Ilya explained. "Not the physical ones - we knew your background as an athlete and dancer. We knew about your education - graduated summa cum laude from Smith College with a 3.9 GPA and a degree in investigative journalism, currently at Stanford pursuing your masters in the same. What we needed to see is how well you would stand up to harassment, and how you would respond if someone you cared about were threatened. Clearly you have no issues with either of these things."

Jennifer was stunned. "Well I'm going to need some time to think this over, of course."

"We understand, ma'am," Will replied. "Take whatever time you need. We'll be here when you're ready. I'll see you out."

The dashing captain offered her his arm and escorted Jennifer back to the club. It was almost overwhelming to think of the responsibility she would carry representing all women in UNCLE's quest to become more inclusive, and the thought of working as a spy was both terrifying and exhilarating, but Jennifer knew that Mr. Waverly wouldn't have chosen her if he didn't believe she was the best candidate for the job. She had passed the night's test with flying colors and as Jennifer sipped a brandy and chatted with her friends, she knew she had already made up her mind. What better homage could she pay to her mother than to take up her example and fight for the underdog? It was a path Suzanne had set her on all those years ago when she had spoken as openly as possible to Jennifer for a class assignment, and now Jennifer would have the chance to live those lessons her mother had so selflessly imparted. There was truly no greater legacy she could receive. And no greater legacy she could leave behind. The circle was complete. The Girl From UNCLE was born.