The funeral had been well – attended. April had been pleasantly surprised by the number of her children's friends who came to pay their respects. She was moved when several of them stood to share their memories of the man they knew as Mr. Case, a multi – talented, multi – lingual sweetheart of a human being who made them feel like family.

It was dark outside now; all the attendees had left hours earlier. Her daughter and her family were staying at her son's house as April's house was mostly empty as it had been sold and the closing was in two days. She had refused to delay it. She was ready to leave the home she had shared with Illya. She had insisted on staying there alone because once she moved to Nevada, she figured she wouldn't be alone anymore which will probably make conversations like the one she was having now impossible.

She took a sip of her white wine and sighed. She felt an arm tighten around her briefly in response. "'Ow are you feeling, Luv?" Mark asked. He was sitting next to her holding a glass of single malt Scotch. "What are you thinking?"

"So many things. How Illya passed so soon after his birthday, how blessed we were that his mind and body were intact. How fantastic that a man who sometimes measured his life in seconds died of natural causes and old age. How much he was loved. How much I loved him. How much he loved me. How proud he was of the family we created." She sat up on the couch and refilled her glass. She smiled and said, "How my kids would probably think I've lost it if I were to tell them that I was talking to their dead Uncle Mark." She took another sip. "How are you drinking anything anyway, Mark? You're a ghost!"

"I guess you could call it a muscle memory, Luv. I remember what it feels like to hold a glass, swallow liquid and how Scotch tastes, but I'm not really drinking it." And just like that, the glass disappeared into thin air. "Better?"

"I guess. You know, Illya was a bit jealous that I could see and talk to you."

"You never told me that!"

"Well, for the longest time, I didn't know! You passed in 2013 and even though he couldn't see or hear you, that Roma blood of his allowed him to sense you. He knew when you were around. When Napoleon passed away when they were eighty – four, Illya was crushed that Napoleon didn't appear to him." She drained her glass. "Mark, I pray that they are together again. Illya felt that perhaps Napoleon was angry that he outlived him, but I think I convinced him that Napoleon would never feel that way." She poured another glassful of wine. "I'm glad things worked out the way they did, Partner."

"Why do you say that, Luv?"

"I mean, what if I had gone first and Illya couldn't see or hear me, either? Yes, he would have had the children as I do, but not having the two of us and Napoleon would have dredged up all those abandonment issues he had when he first came to UNCLE. I don't believe he would have lived to ninety without me."

"What about you, Luv? You're the only one of us left alive. 'Ow do you feel about that?"

"I'm sitting in an almost completely empty house, drinking myself into oblivion while talking to my dead partner's spirit. All things considered, I feel fine. I'm comfortable about my own mortality; I'm not racing headlong towards my death, but I don't fear it. I believe the four of us will see each other once we're on the same plane again." She raised her glass. "To us! To UNCLE!"

Mark watched her drain her glass again. "I think you need to get some sleep, April. You have busy days ahead of you."

April stood, albeit a bit unsteadily and headed toward her bedroom. "Will you stay, Mark?"

"Not to worry, Luv; I will have your back. Sleep without fear. I love you, Agent Dancer Kuryakina Case. When your kids come in the morning, I'll be gone. You probably won't see me for months. You need each other now. Good night, Sister." He watched her collapse onto her bed, pull up her covers and close her eyes. He leaned over and kissed her temple.

"G'nite, Brother. Love you, too."