Sacrifices for the Greater Good

Recovery V

When they had first arrived, Gaby had mostly been able to conceal her pregnancy by wearing loose clothes, but as time passed it became more and more difficult for her to hide it. And after only a few more weeks it became obvious to all but the most naïve of observer. It was a closely knit community, and they were soon on friendly terms with almost everyone who lived there, and much to everyone's amusement Gaby seemed stubbornly determined to not acknowledge to anyone else her condition. Illya almost wished she would, since he was the only one that officially knew he had to bear the brunt of all her complaints.

"Is there a particular reason she is just pretending to have gained weight?" Mr Dunn asked Illya one day, when she was safely out of earshot. He had only been able to shrug and request he move Gaby onto lighter duties, and reduce her pay if necessary. "I'll see what I can do." He had replied with a smile.

Life for them in the village was simple, but not boring. There was plenty of excitement to have, even with just the seemingly daily changes to Gaby's condition. As her waistline expanded, the thought of fatherhood became a less distant idea and more something that seemed possible. He found himself excited to meet the little person he and Gaby had created, although the thought still came with a small measure of sadness. Despite her frequent mood-swings, she could still read him fairly easily and she noticed his slight conflict when they were discussing the rearrangement of furniture in order to figure out where they could place the cot.

"What is it Illya?" With no one searching for them, they had decided to allow themselves the use of their own names when in private.

"It is nothing." He insisted, only to face her glare.

"Don't lie to me. Something is bothering you. Tell me."

"Thinking of the baby makes me remember my father." He admitted. "He's my last relative and I feel like I've abandoned him. I don't even know if he's still alive."

"Oh Illya." She moved closer to embrace him, trying to get as close as she could before her bump got in the way.

"It is stupid of me." He said, hugging her back. "Even if you hadn't become pregnant, nothing really would have changed. He would still be in the gulag regardless."

"Exactly. There is nothing for you to feel guilty about." Her touch was a great comfort to him, but it did nothing to change how he felt.

The next day, a hand carved wooden cot appeared outside the door by the time they both returned from their jobs. The note attached simply said 'You're not fooling anyone Mrs Cook", Gaby had promptly burst into tears and Illya had spent the next hour moving things around the house until she was happy with the cot's placement. She stopped with the denials after that, and finally allowed a local former midwife to examine her.

Gaby continued to work at the garage until she was physically incapable of continuing due to her size. Mr Dunn had sent her home one day and told her not to come back until she had delivered the baby. She had not been pleased when Illya had seen her that evening, and had ranted for quite some time about how she was not an invalid. He had managed to keep a straight face as he agreed and then tried to distract with the strudel he had attempted to make when Mr Dunn had warned him in advance of what he was planning to do. The sweet treat had the effect he wanted, and she had nearly attacked him in her haste to get it.

Eventually the time came for their child to make its impromptu exit from its warm and safe home, Illya found the concept terrifying when Gaby went into labour. All the worst case scenarios came to mind, including those where both Gaby and the baby didn't make it. The midwife had taken one look at his ashen face and immediately accused him of thinking her incompetent. He had stuttered out objections to that statement and been told to sit down and support his wife, he had obeyed with a speed that Gaby, in a brief moment of respite from the pain, found hilarious. Of course her amusement had not lasted long, and she was soon screaming blue murder at anyone that would listen, not seeming to notice when she abruptly switched to German. The midwife had given him an odd look at that, something that he couldn't help but be bemused by. Gaby had been saying shockingly outrageous things, and it was the language change that bothered the midwife. Of course he quickly realised that the revelation that Gaby spoke German fluently would be a problem that neither of them had anticipated.

His worry became a distant thought when a screaming bundle was carefully placed on Gaby's chest. The noise immediately quieted and silence reigned for the first time in what felt like hours. Both Illya and Gaby's attention were fixed on the being that had been the driving force for so much change in their lives.

"A healthy baby boy." The midwife announced.

"He looks just like you." Gaby said in awe. "Only so much smaller." Illya had to agree with her assessment. They both remained utterly mesmerised while the midwife continued with her work.

"All finished." She eventually announced, and delivered a short speech reminding Gaby of several things she needed to remember. "I'll stop by in a few days to see how you're both doing. Mr Cook, would you escort me out?" He nodded, and after casting a final glance back at Gaby and the baby he followed her out of the room, his previous panic returning to him.

"Your wife isn't British, is she?" The midwife asked as she packed her things.

"No." Illya admitted.

"Well she's too young to have been a Nazi." The midwife noted, and her eyes softened as she saw how worried he looked. "I've heard many birthing confessions, it comes with the job. And I've also seen enough couples to recognise one trying to make a new start. No one else will hear about this, I swear."

"Thank you, we appreciate it."

Once the midwife had left, Illya immediately returned to his wife and child. Gaby looked exhausted but happy, the still unnamed baby still resting in her arms. He moved to sit besides her, one arm wrapping around her shoulders. He pressed a kiss to her slightly damp forehead.

"Do you want to hold him?" She asked, offering the bundle towards him with exceeding care. He nodded soundlessly and took the baby from her, her hands gently guiding him until he held the baby properly.

"He's so small." Illya noted, nudging the baby's hand with one finger. His finger was about the same size as the tiny clenched fist. "Have you thought of any names?"

"Eric." She said eventually. "I think it's appropriate. There are German and Russian versions of it." She paled considerably as she realised something. "Oh god. Did I start speaking in German at some point?"

"You did, but I've spoken to the midwife and she isn't going to tell anyone."

"I can't believe I did something so careless." She said angrily, and quietened immediately as Eric made a distressed noise in response to her raised voice. "I could have put us all in danger." She whispered, looking at them both with wide alarmed eyes.

"But you didn't." He said reassuringly. "Everything is going to be fine."

"I love you." She said suddenly, and flushed pink. "I know I don't say it often enough, but I do."

"I love you too." He said in return. "And now we have someone else for us to love."

Months passed, and the only major thing of note that occurred were the various stages of Eric's development. The day after the birth, Illya had gone out and spent a hefty portion of his pay check on a camera, not wanting to miss one moment of his son's growing up. Eric changed day by day, and his passing resemblance to Illya only strengthened as time went on.

Gaby had initially planned on staying at home for several months, to continue looking after Eric. And Mr Dunn had appeared quite happy to allow this, until he had made an impromptu visit to the house and a burst of sentimentality had attacked. Before he could give it too much thought, he had offered to let her bring Eric to work with her. When she had looked at him in stupefied confusion, he had gruffly explained that work was starting to pile up and he didn't want to deal with the hassle of training another mechanic. She had kissed his cheek as a thank you, and wisely made no comment when he turned the colour of beetroot.

For a time things seemed nearly perfect. True, they both were sleep deprived but they were happy. Gradually their paranoia faded away into near complacency as they settled into their lives together. If they were being perfectly honest with themselves, they did miss their former lives a little. Not enough to ever consider returning, but it was a slightly difficult adjustment to make the transition from an exciting life of danger and variety to the more mundane existence of family living. They reminisced often of past missions, Illya even disclosing some of his pre-UNCLE adventures, and in particular spoke fondly of Napoleon.

Illya wondered what had become of their American friend, and of UNCLE itself. He doubted the organisation was still functioning, the KGB would have withdrawn their support as soon as they lost their best agent, and without Russia being involved UNCLE was virtually pointless as a diplomatic exercise. It was therefore likely that Waverly had returned to MI6 and Napoleon to the CIA. He had voiced his opinion to Gaby one evening, and she had given him a grim look.

"Napoleon would have hated to go back." She said. "But at least his sentence has an end date, as long as he behaves." Illya snorted at that, and was punished for it with a light clip to the head. Eric gurgling in amusement at witnessing his parent's slightly violent interaction.

"I wonder what he'll do when his time with the CIA ends." He said, pushing a spoonful of gloop into the nine month old child's open mouth. She shrugged and stirred the pot containing that evening's dinner.

"I don't know. He was always so unpredictable. I imagine he would probably keep travelling around, he doesn't seem to the type to settle in one place."

"That's true."

"I sometimes think about what would happen if we met again." Gaby said, absently using a tissue to wipe Eric's face. "I know it's impossible. He would never turn up somewhere like this. But I still think about it sometimes."

"I do too." He admitted, picking up the child from his high chair before he could start screaming to be let out. "I think he would be angry."

"You mean, you think he would be angry with me." Gaby pointed out bluntly. "I was the one that knowingly and willingly lied to him."

"I think he would understand, once he knew why." Illya would repeat it a thousand time over if it granted him this same result. A beautiful and fierce woman looking at him with love and affection, and the trusting blue eyes of a child that shared his face.

"I think so too."

As it was, they did spot a familiar face a few weeks after that conversation. Only it wasn't Napoleon.

Author's Note: So that's how Waverly found them, and now we're going to get the story of how they ended up in England. EDIT: It recently came to my attention that I had forgotten to delete the contents of Recovery VI from this chapter, so if Recovery VI seems familiar it is because the entirety of the chapter was formerly at the end of this one.