The Man From U.N.C.L.E: A Mission In Istanbul

Chapter 12: Illya Meets The Woman

The night had fallen on Istanbul once again. The group of spies were resting in the living room and Solo was updating Waverly using the phone in the corner of the room.

"Yes," he continued, "they're looking for the blueprints."

As his conversation with Waverly continued, Simona turned her stare to Gaby and Illya. "So... Illya. What did you find?"

"Wasn't it your job to play spy?" Illya glared at her.

Simona smiled sarcastically at him. "I mean you ran away pretty fast before we came. After a... woman I believe. Gaby told me."

Illya looked over at Gaby, who was looking down guiltily. "She took a picture of us. I think she might be a rebel."

"I think you two are tired." Illya smiled at them both menacingly. He took Gaby's whiskey out of her hand. "Time to go to bed."

Gaby jokingly laughed, only to realize he was serious. "Fine. Don't wake me up."

Gaby and Simona left the room just as Solo had finished his phone call with Waverly. He put down the phone and turned back to Illya, taking another drag from his cigarette. "You're always one with the ladies." Solo chuckled and started to make his way upstairs, but stopped. "You know, if you want to get Gaby, maybe you should stop being a jerk." Solo continued to climb up the stairs and Illya followed him.

At the top of the stairs, they turned to separate directions as they opened their bedroom doors. Illya noticed the lights were out and that Gaby was in bed, already breathing heavily. He smiled at her from across the room and took the pistol out of his jacket, placing it on the bedside table next to where he usually slept. He turned back to Gaby and pulled back a wisp of hair away from her face. He leaned in and kissed her forehead gently and slowly caressed her cheek. "Goodnight." He said, before getting up and heading downstairs again.

When he was in the living room, he noticed the silhouette of his mother outside the door. She was dressed in the same black cloak she was wearing when they first met. He opened the door and smiled at her, beckoning for her to come and sit down. She did, and slumped on the sofa, sighing in relief as if she'd been walking for a long time. Maybe she has, Illya thought.

"Would you like something?" Illya pointed to the kitchen.

His mother smiled up at him. "No, I'm OK. Just sit and talk to me." Her wise, aged face lit up when he did. "After all of this is over, I want you to come back to me and your sister in Moscow."

Illya sighed and looked down at his hands. "It's not that simple."

"Why?" His mother grunted impatiently. "You have your whole life there. Me, your sister... your betrothed."

Illya looked up, fear darting in his eyes, at his mother. "What?"

"You've already forgotten." His mother shook her head in disappointment. "Your engagement to Seda Alneikova must go on, or we disrespect their family."

"I don't care about respecting their family." Illya brushed the back of his head. "Moscow isn't my life anymore. Here, with these people, is."

"That doesn't matter." She leaned in closer to face her son. "Your loyalty must always lie with me. Your family. And you made a promise to her. It must be carried out."

Illya sighed and smiled up at her. "Mother, you must go before someone comes down." He got up from the couch and helped his mother up. "We will see each other again."

"Think about what I said," she nodded at him and kissed his cheek, "and think about the promise."

"I will." He waited for her to go down the porch steps before closing the door. He leaned against it and sighed, clearly unable to think of what to do.

Hiding underneath the stairs and listening to the whole conversation, a small figure makes her way back up the stairs to her bedroom.

Gaby.