Chapter 10

The Way Things Were

Much later the entire group assembled in the otherwise deserted squadroom. It had taken the combined effort of Palmer, McGee and DiNozzo to wrestle a very uncooperative Illya out of autopsy and into the lift. He struggled against the hands forcing his arms and shoulders behind his back; he had ducked, weaved, kicked and swore at them in a fluent and very colourful mixture of Russian and English. So after countless minutes trapped between floors, the trio of escorts was practically in tears themselves from trying to keep their beloved M.E. from self harm.

At long last the adrenalin wore off and as the morbid truth sank in he dropped, dejected into an empty chair in front of McGee's desk.

Napoleon's dead. My partner; larger than life who used to tap dance frequently on Death's door. There's nothing to keep me here – in the States. I only stayed on because of Napoleon. After U.N.C.L.E. there really was no point. If any or all of this comes out I'll be deported, pulled up in front of my former masters at the KGB, tried and shot as a traitor. "A traitor to my country and sex, shot in front of the masses as an example to all." It was not meant to end like this. It was never meant to end…

He hugged his arms around himself, gripping the medallion pendant that was a birthday present from his lover until the burning metal cut deep welts into his skin as he let the stone cold mask from his past slip silently into place.

The "kids" were huddled around Kate's desk trying to make sense of the events of the past few hours and each adding their own piece to the puzzle. Abby had firmly attached herself to McGee, the latter silently praying black mascara comes out in the wash.

'Where's Agent Fornell?' Palmer was doing his best meerkat impression as Gibbs stalked out of the lift with a tray of large coffee cups and an extra-large Caff-Pow.

'Fallen through the floor yet?' he asked, what at first glance appeared to be his empty desk and space behind it until a low groan emanated from behind followed by a majorly pissed Fornell sporting an impressive black eye and the mother of all ice packs.

'Seriously Gibbs, did you have to hit me and not the floor?'

'Well Tobias, you were in my way. Would you rather have the steel door through your neck?'

Fornell growled like a wounded grizzly bear and lowered himself back onto the floor.

Despite everything, he thought, you've gotta love the bastard.

Once again a stone slab of unread ability, Illya hefted himself off the chair with his characteristic coldness. 'Now I shall take my leave of you, permanently. Do not try to find me – unlike the KGB, you never will. And once they are through with me they'll be nothing left to find.'

'Wait, Duck!' Gibbs lowered a hand onto his shoulder. 'Illya. We could forget everything. Everything that's happened today, clear it all up. You've been Doctor Mallard for as long as I've known you and anther name isn't gonna change that. No one else has to know. Just stay. Please.'

Illya turned from Gibbs' pleading eyes to Abby's mascara stained cheeks to Tony, McGee and Kate's glazed, apprehensive faces, Palmer and Fornell's rigidness, finally resting on Sammi's approving nod. Choosing the path which would, to use an age old cliché, change his life forever he slipped back into a well worn persona, 'You know Jethro, this reminds me of a time back when we were in the middle of The Gurnius Affair…'

He was cut short by an ecstatic squeal and the suffocating weight of an Abby hug. Shifting her weight to one side, one by one he was embraced, clapped on the shoulder or back and even Palmer tentative grasped his offered hand.

One question remained unanswered.

'You would risk your careers, your lives to let me stay? Why would you do that?'

Tony put words to feelings for all. 'You're family. Isn't that reason enough?'

A chorus of 'Yeah', 'Definitely' and 'DiNozzo's right, surprisingly' bounced around for a while before Gibbs' drove home one of his own.

'Don't you want to stay?' Uncertainty and… fear, whispered through his usual gruffness.

'Of course I do Jethro. Here I have a home, a family. All that is waiting for me elsewhere is misery and death. Besides,' his voice dropped deadly quiet, 'It is what Napoleon would have wanted.' Raising his voice again he continued. 'And now everything can go back to normal.' And he wacked DiNozzo Gibbs' style across the head before pulling Sammi after him into the lift with utterances of 'keeping the UNCLE hounds at bay with an early report'.

'OW! Hey what was that for?' Tony called after him.

'For not knowing what an "Illya" is.' And he laughed until the doors closed with a ding.

'Hey Boss, I think he's more than a little unstable in the mental department – OW!'

'DiNozzo! Go home! That goes for all of you and if anyone breaths a word of this they'll find my boot so far up their ass…' he let the common threat hang as he watched them all scarper towards the lift, the stairs and any other ways to escape.

Gibbs was offering his hand to help Fornell up as his cell phone rang. 'Yeah, Gibbs. What explosion, Director? Nope, didn't hear it. Kuryakin? Sounds Russian to me sir. Nope, never heard of him. First thing tomorrow.' And with that he hung up.

'Lemme guess, something to do with files mysteriously going missing and lighter fluid? I'll see you later Jethro.' The FBI Agent limped his way out.

'Tobias. Door's –'

'Unlocked? When is it never?'

'And the spa –'

'Spare bed's made up. I know. Although, considering how often you fall asleep working on that damn boat I might just pinch yours.'

'Bed or boat?'

'You're a top notch bastard Gibbs – you know that?'

Yep, Gibbs laughed, everything's back to normal. Well, our version of normal anyway.