Afterwards

Together

Gaby looked around the hotel room in shock as she stepped in the door. Everything was all over the place, tables were flipped over, and a chair had landed itself completely on the other side of the room. She shut the door behind her,  a little apprehensive to leave herself without a safe exit. She knew it was probably just Illya, but she could never be too sure. She crept carefully into the room. 

"Illya?" she called out, only to be met with dead silence. She heard the water running from inside the bathroom, and she made her way to the door, quietly knocking. 

"Illya? Are you alright?" she asked. The water stopped running. She took this as her cue to open the bathroom door carefully. 

Inside, she saw him drying his face off with the hand towel that she had left thrown on the vanity before she left this morning. He set the towel down and looked at her, his face not showing the emotion of a man who had just ripped apart a hotel room. 

"Sorry for the mess. I will pick it up," he said stepping forward to move past her, but she stopped him. 

"Mind telling me what brought this about?" 

"It's really nothing. Just a call from my handler. It is fine now. Excuse me," he stepped to move past her once more. She blocked him again. 

"What did he say? Let me help you," she looked up at him. She moved him back until he was sat on the edge of the bathtub, looking up at her expectantly. "You can trust me, you know." 

"It really was not anything. He said that he did not want me working with you, that you had been making me soft. And maybe you have, I do not know. But I do know that maybe it is not such bad thing," he shifted against the cold  porcelain of the tub's edge. She was silent for a while. 

"Are you still with U.N.C.L.E. or not?" 

"Yes, but for how much longer I cannot say. I am still KGB, like it or not," he chuckled softly, although it came out as sad rather than uplifting. 

The truth was, Gaby hated the fact he was still with the KGB. She could see how much it ripped him apart, and she could see he did want out. He would never admit it to her, and she knew that. But she doubted that he thought she could not see it. She seated herself next to him and allowed herself to grab his hand carefully, looking to gauge his reaction. 

They had been dancing around this idea for quite some time, and he solidified his certainty in the decision he had made a few days ago. He was going to enjoy himself with her as long as he could. He could see that she felt the same way in the little things that she did for him. She would fold his towels after he left them tossed on the floor. She would make sure his chessboard was undisturbed on the table every time she would prop her feet up on it. She would help him clean out his wounds and she would make sure to be careful not to ever hurt him. Illya would do his own little things for her, like carrying her to bed or bringing her coffee in the morning. 

"Do not worry about me, Gaby. We will be okay no matter what."

"It's my job to worry. That's what you do when you're partners," she laughed, resting her head on his shoulder. 

"Partners or no, I will make sure that we always end up where we need to go," he said, making sure he was looking at the curve of her face. The curve that he could always find peace in. He could even be tempted to call it home. 

"And where is that?" she asked. She knew they probably would never work out. There were too many odds. But maybe, if he had enough faith, it could work. Gaby needed to at least try, and what Illya said next solidified her faith in him. 

"Together."