Sacrifices for the Greater Good

Grief II

Napoleon remained a passive passenger in his life over the next few days, still struggling to process the sudden loss of his two closest friends. Waverly arranged for him to be taken to a hotel, his room was as luxurious as he would expect but he couldn't find himself able to appreciate any of it. He found himself jumping at every sound, half-convinced one of them would walk through the door and tell him everything was fine.

The first night, he had slumped on the bed and stared at the décor blankly, his anger building by the minute. At some point, some unknown threshold had been reached and after a few minutes that he quite frankly could not remember, he found himself standing in the centre of the room, hands bleeding and the room utterly trashed. All the vases were smashed up on the floor, and the curtains were ripped, light bleeding through the ragged edges. It took a moment for him to connect the dots, and he had found himself bitterly laughing as he realised that he had thrown a very Illya-like fit. The laughter only lasted a moment before it was replaced with harsh animalistic sounds from the back of his throat, accompanied by angry salty tears.

Napoleon had always prided himself on his ability to hide his true emotions behind a mask of frivolity and light heartedness. But this latest tragedy, piled onto a small mountain of lost army friends and personal losses, had finally caused him to reach breaking point. Waverly arrived a few hours later, glancing around the wreck of the room and wisely chose not to say anything to the already volatile agent.

"What is it Waverly?" He asked tiredly.

"Alex, Napoleon. I think we know each other well enough to start using first names." Waverly said, clearing his throat slightly. The gesture surprised the American, as far as he was aware not even Gaby had called Waverly by his first name, in fact he didn't know anyone who called him Alex. Not even in the entirety of UNCLE agents he knew.

"Have they been caught?" He asked, it was the first thing that came to mind. He still didn't know how involved or not Rose had been in the whole mess, but he had far less reservations about George Russell. The death penalty would be too good for him. He might even take matters into his own hands, exert his own personal brand of justice to try to sooth the burning ache. Waverly shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"No, they managed to evade the pursuing officers. The car they were using was found ditched on a side road, they are suspected of either having continued on foot or stolen a car. They are going to continue the pursuit but it seems less and less likely they will be found." Waverly told him, his tone purely professional as he delivered the less than welcome news. Napoleon shook his head and disgust, and before he knew what he was doing he was holding onto his fist in agony, only later seeing the hole in the wall that he had punched through.

Waverly retrieved a first aid kit from the bathroom and began the work of examining the injured hand, continuing to speak calmly. "The FBI thinks they are heading to South America, somewhere without extradition where they can hide out and start again. The organisation Russell ran does seem to crumbling apart in the sudden absence of their leader, so at least something good has come about such a disaster. It barely seems worth it when you consider-" Waverly suddenly cut himself off before he could finish his own sentence, and when Napoleon raised his head to look at him he could see an expression on Waverly's face that indicated he hadn't intended his final sentence to be said aloud.

"When you consider what?" He demanded, Waverly continued to avoid meeting his gaze to his consternation.

"It is probably better you don't know. I shouldn't have said anything."

"Excuse me?" Napoleon was baffled, he didn't know what information had affected Waverly so much that he didn't want to speak about it.

"You're grieving, Napoleon. Hell I wish I didn't know, it will only make things worse." Waverly practically pleaded, clearly unwilling to divulge what he had learned. It sounded ominous enough, even when they had discovered they had recovered the wrong bomb in Italy the man had been surprisingly blasé about it, but now his boss of the past few years was visibly shaken.

"You can't make that decision for me." He told him furiously. "If it has something to do with Illya or Gaby I deserve to know. They were more my friends than yours." The words were intended to hurt, and he saw Waverly recoil somewhat from the accusation. Napoleon regretted his words almost immediately, but did not make any apology for it, his pride still stung by the fact the older man dared to keep such information from him.

"If you're sure…"

"I am." He said insistently, and tried to prepare himself for some more bad news. A few possibilities came to mind- maybe Gaby and Illya had been tortured before their deaths, the thought made his stomach churn unpleasantly but he knew it was likely if not certain. It fell into Russell's modus operandi.

"Gaby went to the doctor a week or so ago." Waverly began slowly, and a frown appeared on Napoleon's face as he tried to figure out how this could be relevant. "The FBI went to settle the bill at the hospital, I suspect as a gesture of goodwill. There were blood test results available, she had never returned to collect them." The man before Napoleon hesitated.

"Go on, what is it?"

"It appears that Gaby was pregnant before she died." Waverly finally revealed. The colour drained from Napoleon's face, it was one of the few things that had not run through his mind as Waverly spoke.

"Pregnant?" He repeated in disbelief, Waverly's confirming nod only making the blow worse. "I understand why you didn't want to tell me now. That monster." He whispered, one hand clenching into a fist. During the ensuing pause, a plan started to form in his mind. If the FBI could not find George Russell, he certainly would and he would make him pay for what he had done.

"Do you know if there is a father in London I need to notify?" Waverly asked delicately, Napoleon stared at him uncomprehendingly until he remembered that Waverly had no idea that two of his best agents had been living together for two years.

"The father died with the mother." Napoleon managed to choke out, missing the further devastated expression that appeared on the other man. When he glanced up again he saw that Waverly looked horrified, possibly partly because he had never guessed about Illya and Gaby's relationship.

"I can't believe I never noticed." He said. "That poor girl. She must have known that it would never work out."

"Don't even say it." Napoleon replied, raising furious eyes. It was an unescapable thought, but that didn't mean he wanted to hear it out loud. Everything ending so tragically at least meant that neither of them would have had to deal with the inevitable separation that would have occurred as a result of the pregnancy. Waverly cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"The funeral is set for Thursday, the remains will be buried here instead of being transported elsewhere." Waverly announced, and Napoleon managed to cough out a laugh.

"Illya would have hated that." The thought of the proud Russian buried on American soil was simultaneously amusing and heart-breaking, he knew Gaby would not have cared but it may have been something that would have upset Illya.

"At least they will be buried together." Waverly responded glumly, reminding Napoleon that Illya would have endured anything if it meant staying with Gaby. The alternative would have meant the two separated forever, their relationship and the life they created unacknowledged in death.

That night he slept poorly, tossing and turning through snatches of dreams. Gaby laughing at one of his jokes while Illya looked on unimpressed but unable to conceal a small smile. The three of them playing poker in Paris, using matchsticks as chips since Illya steadfastly refused to gamble with actual money. Gaby dragging them both to exotic restaurants so she could widen her gastronomic experience, and causing Illya to suffer through sushi despite his hatred of it purely to keep her happy. When Napoleon woke up the memories were still near the front of his mind, and he was relatively calm until he remembered what had happened. They had been so vibrant and alive in his mind that for those initial few minutes he had forgotten that there would be no more outings, no more poker games, no more laughter. It had been a crushing blow, a softened echo of his initial grief and had been the first trigger of the insomnia he would have to contend with for the future.

Napoleon and Waverly were the only ones that attended the funeral, which didn't come as too much of a surprise. All the people they knew from UNCLE were either on missions or still in London, flying them all to the US would have been impractical and Waverly had confided in him that he was planning a remembrance event for when they returned, to give everyone else a chance to mourn. It was a kind thought but one Napoleon could not help but feel was a little useless. Gaby and Illya had not had any other real friends in UNCLE apart from himself and perhaps Waverly. Of the two Gaby had been the more outgoing and she had socialised a little more, but even then she couldn't have counted anyone as more than an acquaintance, her time mostly split between the members and leader of their team.

The funeral thus was just as secretive as their lives had been, and for security reasons they were not even buried under their own names. It was a practical idea, Illya's name was very clearly eastern European and with the political climate as it was there was no guarantee that his grave would not have been defaced by some overly enthusiastic patriot. The names they were buried under were Americanised and that of a married couple, a final small gesture from Waverly to acknowledge what he had so long been ignorant of.

There was no mention of the baby, and Napoleon couldn't help but wonder whether Gaby had told anyone else about her condition. Was there anyone she could have told? He knew that the house had been totally bugged by George, normal discussions about their lives and relationship would have been impossible under those conditions. Had she even been able to speak to Illya about it? Or had she wanted to wait for a more appropriate time? He could easily picture it: her and Illya returning to London and her on her tiptoes whispering in his ear the news with a small, secret smile. He couldn't decide which outcome- Illya knowing or not- was better, for Gaby death might have been less easy to accept with the knowledge that Illya had never known about the life he had helped create.

"Martin wanted to come." Waverly said eventually, when the coffins disappeared from view. At Napoleon's questioning look, he elaborated further. "The man from the FBI who was in charge of the operation, he wanted to pay his respects."

"I hope you told him where to shove his respects." Napoleon told him.

"I did." Waverly agreed. "Slightly more diplomatically though."

The earth was piled up over the coffins, eventually leaving two freshly turned over mounds where there had been holes in the ground. They had both brought flowers to lay down. Napoleon had lifted a few people's wallets in order to be able to purchase two ludicrously priced bouquets, Waverly had given him a slightly odd look when he had seen the elaborate flower arrangements but had not said anything or even given him a look of reproach. Had the circumstances not been so dire, the old Napoleon may have sought to take advantage of the leniency he was being given.

"I want to go after the Russells." Napoleon told him, Waverly looked at him carefully for a moment.

"I understand." He said. "I can maybe give you a month to search, but probably not much more. I imagine things at UNCLE will face a bit of adjustment after recent events." There was a pause. "Napoleon, if you do find them you need to realise it isn't going to make you feel better."

"I know." He admitted, he had attempted revenge in the past and it had always left him feeling hollow. "But I want to at least try to give Illya and Gaby some justice." It was the least he could do for them after he had failed them so spectacularly.

As Napoleon promised, he spent the next few weeks chasing down a cold trail down to South America. As Waverly had suggested, the duo appeared to have stolen a car to continue their journey. He had felt a surge of hope when he believed he had figured out which car they had stolen and tried his best to track it down. That lead had ended in disappointment, he did find the car but like with the previous one this too had been abandoned and with no indication of where its most recent occupants had fled to.

He had not allowed himself to lose hope, and his vigilance was rewarded when one of his contacts approached him regarding a specific type of Rolex he had put word out that he was interested about. He had seen the expensive watch on George Russell's wrist and had considered lifting it if he got the opportunity. Knowing the man was on the run with likely limited resources, he expected that it would eventually be sold. Napoleon had plenty of contacts across the country who specialised in searching for such pieces, so when he heard about the exact model suddenly becoming available in a state near the Mexican border, he had thanked his contact and rushed to the jewellery shop it had been sold at.

He aggressively demanded the shopkeeper to tell him about the individuals that had sold it to him, and with some hindsight he realised that it might have been better if he had approached with his customary charm. As such his attempted interrogation only resulted in a shotgun being brought out by the assistant and aimed at his head until he left the premises. He only spent a week south of the border when the call from Waverly came, summoning him back to UNCLE headquarters.

"You've done your best." Waverly told him sympathetically. "But you need to face the fact that you won't find them now. What you must hope for is that they will be stupid enough to try to set up another criminal organisation and draw attention to where they are hiding. I will keep a look out, and I swear I will tell you if I hear even the slightest hint of Russell getting back to his old tricks." He paused to let his logic sink in. "Come back to London, I have some work for you to do. Not UNCLE work but something you may appreciate."

Napoleon almost defied the order, but knew that too much time had passed for him to have any hope of finding the Russells. He couldn't help but feel that had he started his search earlier, near immediately after learning the news about Illya and Gaby, he might have had a better chance at finding them. But the trail had gone cold and by now they could have acquired false documents and flown somewhere else. They could be anywhere and even with a lifetime of searching there was little chance he would ever find them. Waverly was right, the best thing he could do right now was bide his time and wait for more information. So with a heavy heart he went to the nearest airport and bought himself a single ticket to London.

Author's Note: So Napoleon is back in London next chapter where there have been some interesting developments.