Sacrifices for the Greater Good
Mission II
When Gaby had first met Illya in Rome, she thought he had risen to the best of the KGB by being what his first impression had suggested- a savage brute. She had believed his size, strength and brutal violent rages were the reason he was so prized. It was only after Istanbul, when his rivalry with Napoleon had calmed to a friendly contest and when his and her unresolved sexual tension was finally resolved, that she realised he was so much more than that. He was astonishingly dedicated to his job, or rather to being the best spy he could be. In Rome he had discovered that his lock-picking skills were pathetic in comparison to their light-handed friend, and so to her and Napoleon's surprise he had swallowed his pride and asked the American to teach him.
After several hours of tutoring, Napoleon had declared him competent and the lessons had ended, but Illya was still unsatisfied. The chess board that he often turned to in his free time was set aside for two months so he could concentrate fully on improving his skills until he was faster than the average thief. He still didn't have a patch on the American's talent, after all you could not earn 15-20 years' experience in such a short amount of time, but a few missions later Napoleon upgraded his praise from 'competent' to 'very good'. The knowledge of this meant that Gaby at least recovered more quickly from Illya's surprise talent. It made sense in a way, the ability to switch accent at a moment's notice is always useful, especially in times like these. The KGB must have loved having one of their own that they could send into enemy territory without raising suspicion.
As per Waverly's orders, Napoleon and Illya spent the next three days glued together to test the strength of Illya's American act. To Gaby's surprise, by the end of those three days Napoleon had been very satisfied and impressed. It wasn't perfect, he had admitted, there were gaps in his knowledge. Illya knew shockingly little about American art or music, but these subjects were unlikely to come up and he more than made up for these downfalls in his ability to discuss politics and sports. After Illya had promised to study at every available opportunity, Waverly had finally agreed to allow the switch to take place and immediately set about arranging all their documentation for the next few months. Gaby was of course delighted, a month or two of living with Napoleon was work, enjoyable work but still work. A month of two living with Illya was practically a holiday.
They had a private flight to New York, Waverly had insisted upon it to give them privacy while they continued memorising their cover stories. Gaby idly twisted the gold ring that was now on her ring finger, she still kept the Rome engagement ring on a chain around her neck. It was one of the few sentimental pieces she owned, and as was the case with Illya's watch, she was loathe to take it off unless absolutely necessary. If it came down to it, she could always say it was the engagement ring he had given her which was a little too bulky to wear next to the simple wedding ring. A few seats over Napoleon kept making unhappy noises as he read through his cover story, the noise trying her patience somewhat as it kept distracting her from the pleasant sensation of Illya's thumb absently tracing circles on the back of her hand.
"What is it Napoleon?" She snapped.
"Have you seen my weekly budget for this mission?" He immediately complained, clearly having waited for permission to release a litany of reasons for his current unhappiness. "What am I supposed to do with this?" Taking a brief glance at the page he waved in her face, she inelegantly snorted.
"That's more than we get, and don't forget you're meant to be a construction supervisor. No truffles in your risotto until after the mission." She teased.
"You're mean to be inconspicuous, Cowboy, try to remember that. No stealing." Gaby almost jerked in surprise as Illya spoke, it was difficult getting used to his new voice, but he was determined to stick to it until the mission was over. He didn't want to risk slipping back into the accent he was more comfortable with in case it became a habit and he accidentally blew their cover.
"No fun, either." Napoleon said sulkily, and returned to his attention to the file. All three of them knew that no matter how vehemently he complained, he would still follow the instructions to the letter unless a change in plan was vitally necessary. There was too much at stake. Turning back to her own file, Gaby scanned the information about her relationship with 'Charlie Jones'.
"They've not given us a reason you were dishonourably discharged from the army." She noted to Illya.
"We will have to make something up, they probably want to give us some flexibility about the cover. I suggest something involving violence, would work well for a potential enforcer." He reasoned.
"Righteous violence would be best, we don't want the target to think you're entirely uncontrollable." He nodded in agreement. "I'll give it some thought." She added.
"Hold on." Napoleon interrupted them as he came across another troubling paragraph. "Are we actually going to have to do construction work?"
"When we get closer to Russell and his daughter, he might send some men to check out Illya's workplace to see if it's legitimate. So yes." Gaby told him.
"Don't be so delicate, Cowboy, you won't have to do that much anyway. It might do you some good to earn an honest living."
Napoleon gave the Russian a dirty look, and threw aside his cover story folder to pick up his surveillance folder. Silenced reigned for an hour or so, until Napoleon leaned over to Illya with his the file opened to the floor plan of the house they were going to live in for the mission. Gaby looked it over with some interest, Waverly hadn't given them much information on their living situation- they needed to remain mostly unfamiliar with the house until they moved in.
"I'll put bugs in these rooms." Napoleon indicated a few, there were a very limited number of rooms in the house and he pointed at all of them bar two. "Communal areas, in case Russell says anything incriminating or of interest. I'll leave the bedroom and bathroom alone, try to keep your private activities confined to those two rooms."
"No promises." Gaby said, grinning at him.
"I have a dozen or so bugs with me, you can use them." Illya suggested. "I'll make more during my breaks at the construction site, if I can get enough privacy." Napoleon nodded, he had long since given up on pretending that his devices were better than the Russian's.
"The target will probably bug us when he comes to the house." Gaby said. "After their first visit, we should maintain our covers even when we think we are speaking privately."
She read over her file until her head started to droop with tiredness and she struggled to stay awake. She valiantly tried to fight it until an arm slipped around her shoulders and pulled her closer to her favourite person. She took the invitation and let her head drop onto his shoulders and allowed her eyelids to flutter shut.
Hours later, they arrived at the airport and were quickly ushered into a car that was driven to a safe house. Everything had already been prepared for them: identity cards, cash, keys to their new home and car, and distinctly Napoleon-unapproved clothing. The material of the dress Gaby pulled over her head wasn't as luxurious as she was used to, her time at U.N.C.L.E. had turned her soft. It was a necessary sacrifice if they wanted to convince their target that they were a down on their luck couple that were willing to bend the rules if it meant more money. To her amusement, Napoleon looked far more disgruntled than she and was suffering Illya's mockery as a result.
As the Russian began to explain his various devices to Napoleon, Gaby decided to take a look at the car they had been given for the mission. It was an old but reliable model, clearly meant to look second-hand. Beside it was the large van Napoleon would be using to help them move in, on it was written various bits of marketing for the construction company he and Illya would be working for during the mission. They would have neighbours at the house, and so their cover story needed to be firmly in place before they even arrived at their destination. She opened the back of it curiously, inside were various bits and pieces of furniture and several boxes. Room names were scrawled across them in black marker pen- kitchen, bedroom, clothes, etc. The history of a couple that didn't exist all packaged away into neat little parcels.
"All ready?" Napoleon asked.
She shut the doors again, it would not be too long before she would be sorting through the items herself. He climbed into the driver's side of the van as Illya approached her, hand outstretched for something. She looked at him slightly confused, unsure what he wanted.
"Keys, Gaby."
She handed them over with a glower, she had forgotten that whenever they were both to be in a car Illya was to drive. Their play domestic situation was in sharp contrast to their actual relationship. Charlie Jones was the one in control, the one that made all the decisions with the full support of his loyal and doting wife, Gabriella. In reality, Illya had always been fairly content to let her take the lead, she sometimes suspected that he was so used to not being in control of his own life that once he had full control he didn't really know what to do with it. He had been the one to start the whole affair, kissing her in Istanbul when he had absolutely no work-related excuse to do so. But she had been the one to initiate nearly everything else: dragging him to her bed the first night they had spent in London, and asking him to more or less move into her flat.
They drove for a long time, Napoleon following them in the van, the safe house had been located quite a distance away from the setting of their mission. Illya drove with one hand on the wheel and the other on her knee, his ring finger sported a gold band that matched hers. It was an oddly heart-warming sight for Gaby, they had never played husband and wife before, she had a few times with Napoleon but with Illya she had never been more than his fiancée. A wedding ring suited him. Eventually they arrived, and Gaby scrutinised the building that would be her home for the near future. It was small, smaller than she had perhaps expected. The two men started to unload the van, and she moved to help but Illya stopped her.
"Leave this to us." He gave her a quick kiss as he passed her another set of keys. "Go in and have a look at our new house." She nearly sighed, but she knew he was only doing this because it was part of his cover. She took the house keys and did as he suggested. It may have been small, but it was cosy- clean and sparsely furnished. It reminded her of her old flat in East Berlin. Feeling a little useless, she wandered about from room to room, trying to think of something she could do to pass the time that wouldn't conflict with her role as a housewife. When she took a closer look at the kitchen, a suitable idea came to mind and she nearly skipped back to the living room where Illya and Napoleon were dumping boxes.
"Can I have the money?" She asked Illya, without any questions or hesitations he pulled out his wallet and handed her that week's budget.
"Peril, that is not a wise move." Napoleon said, giving Gaby a playful smirk.
"An even less wise move was making that comment." She shot back.
"David," Illya began, using Napoleon's fake name, "please remember my name is Charlie."
"Sorry, minor slip up. Won't happen again." Napoleon apologised.
"I'm going to go get groceries, I'll cook us some dinner when I get back." Napoleon opened his mouth, Gaby presumed to offer his services in her place, but she stopped him before he could. "You can't come over and cook every day, David, I have to manage myself. Try not to kill each other while I'm gone."
"I can't promise anything, Charlie here probably has quite antiquated ideas about interior design." Napoleon grinned, ignoring the withering gaze Illya sent in his direction. Gaby rolled her eyes and collected the car keys from her temporary husband.
She was gone perhaps an hour, and once she returned there was shockingly little progress made by the two men. She had been joking when she had told them not to kill each other, but she returned to a half-shouted half-whispered argument about where a table should be placed. It was like the Rome dress shop all over again. She had given them both a disappointed look and left them to their arguments, heading into the kitchen to attempt to cook something. Luckily Waverly had foreseen she may have had some difficulty so she had been supplied with a series of 'idiot proof' recipes that even she, with her utter lack of ability, couldn't mess up.
A short while later, a reasonably competent meal was placed on the newly positioned table. It was a wonderfully domestic time, they would have about two weeks to settle into their covers before they could move forward on the mission, and because it would just be her and Illya living at the house it would feel like a very odd few weeks. Napoleon and Illya both thanked her for the meal, and after Napoleon had carefully hidden a few bugs around the house he departed, leaving the couple alone together.
"Mr Jones." Gaby said, grinning over the table at her temporary husband.
"Mrs Jones." He replied, looking at her warily. He knew her well enough to realise when he should be suspicious.
"It's been a long day." She yawned theatrically. "Shall we retire to bed? I'm sure we can think of something to do to pass the time that we can't do down here." She watched as he moved a fist up to his mouth to muffle a laugh, and she smiled openly already thinking of how horrified Napoleon must be at the moment. This mission might be more fun than she had thought.
Author's Note: Aww, isn't this nice? Everyone is so happy.