A/N: Hello there! So this is an AU story which I came up with after discussing shipping stuff with a friend of mine. it's about 80% plotted, but will take a little time with updates. So please be patient, but I'll try to keep this regularly updating as much as possible. I'd give a little info on the story, but I feel like that would be spoiling the surprise, just please note that in this take illya/oc is the main drive here, and though he's kinda sorta with gaby at first, i've got other plans for her. So please, don't get upset with me regarding gaby/illya, I ship them incredibly so, but this is something very very different.

Enjoy! :)


Illyas head spun, his vision blurry as he tried to overcome the ringing in his ears enough to orient himself. He could hear his name screamed-or rather, the name he gave as a cover, as small grey eyes hovered over him. Pleading. Poor boy, he shouldn't have to see this.

His hands lifted as much as possible, grabbing onto the childs arms as he tried to speak, tried to reassure him that he wouldn't let anything happen to him-but nothing came out, and the crying boy only cried harder.

He could feel his small charge being ripped from his grasp, the tugging being enough to force his mind into overdrive, yanking him back into reality like a tug from a rope from water to safety. Too sharp, too jolting, his head spun again before it finally cleared and everything came into clear focus. The boy screamed to him for help, but he had to be careful with the gun being held in the captors other hand.

There was only one thing in his mind he just needed to act on it-

A sudden blur of a white dress and black hair flew out from the corner of his vision, the boy dropped as the woman he'd come to respect and admire became a hellion, the gun knocked across the room as she wielded raw fury against the man. She was beautiful, Illya thought, like an avenging goddess who'd finally had enough.

There was no stopping her now as she screamed over the growing commotion in the room for him to take the boy to safety. He couldn't leave her, he wouldn't. She deserved to smile again, to enjoy the freedom that had been so cruelly stolen from her. He had made a promise and he would keep it.

No order from her would stop him.

Approaching footsteps came up behind him and he turned to face another opponent... and one became three... then five. But they were nothing more than pesky flies, brushed off easily due to how inadequate they were.

A scream...

Bang!

A gunshot rang out, and he turned to face the man who held the weapon with deep seeded disgust before his eyes widened in shock. For between him and the weapon was the lady all in white.

Familiarity set in, he'd been here before.

A crimson patch building at her back. No. She couldn't die. Not like this.

Another scream filled his ears, and he fell into darkness, the last he saw being her grey eyes looking back at him in apology.


Illya woke from the dream with a start, breathing heavily as he placed a hand over his chest, his heart hammering away in his ribcage. He looked around the dark room, his mind coming back into focus as he remembered where he was. Gaby slept peacefully in the bed beside him, her chest rising and falling with every breath she took, and he focused on it to help bring him back.

But in the back of his mind, there was a whisper, a gentle voice he had a hard time shaking. The memory played on as he stared into the darkness, eyes vaguely beginning to make out the shape of the armoire across the room.

He remembered catching her as she collapsed, her blood staining his hands red as he'd ripped open the dress to look at how bad she'd been hit. It was bad, he knew enough to know that, the bullet had entered near her heart, and gone out the other side, meaning that she was bleeding profusely. But shock took her consciousness from her before he could do anything, and she'd laid limp in his arms with his name whispered one last time.

Everything after was a blur of reaction, and he had some trouble recalling it fully- save for the pale form his eyes caught when he finally had time to process once more.

Shaking his head, he tried to stop the memories, and getting up he trudged with sleepy limbs to the bathroom. He wouldn't be getting any more sleep now, he knew that well enough.


"You're up early, Peril." Napoleon commented upon seeing Illya flipping through some files .

"It's nine in the morning." Illya replied tersely, his eyes glued to the page. "Not really what you call 'early'."

Napoleon huffed softly. "You're supposed to be on vacation. On vacation, 9 a.m. is early." He said before he sat down on the couch across from Illya with a coffee in hand. "How long have you been up anyway?"

Illya paused. "Three o'clock." Came his answer.

"Couldn't sleep?"

"Something like this."

Napoleon sighed, tilting his head as he tried to get a good look at the file. "Is Gaby up yet?" He inquired.

"No. She drank a little too much last night, I don't think we'll be seeing her for a little while yet." The file was closed just as Napoleon caught a name written in Russian.

"Blackwood?" The name was familiar.

The look he received from Illya would have made most men backtrack, but Napoleon merely met his grace with a curious insistence. "It's not important." Illya said as he got up. "It's an old mission from when I worked for KGB."

"And you're examining it why?"

There was no answer, just the quiet shuffling of papers as Illya put the file into his case and headed toward the kitchen to make some more coffee.

"Curious." Napoleon commented.

But before he could continue poking at Illya, Gaby entered the room with a drawled out "Good morning..." which spoke oh so clearly of the hangover she was feeling.

Illya watched with a small smile as she slowly padded over to the couch and laid down with her feet in Napoleons lap. "Hmm... looks like someone got a little carried away last night." The American teased, earning a sleepy glare from the young woman.

"Is there coffee?" Her voice was a pain to her own ears it seemed as she winced.

"There would have been if Cowboy hadn't drank the last cup." Illya replied, returning to the room with a glass of water and a tablet of Alka-seltzer, dropping it in and handing the drink to Gaby, who took it gratefully. "But I'm making some more. Should be ready soon."

The subtle flirtation that usually came with any interaction between Illya and Gaby soon occurred, but Napoleon tuned it out as his focus returned to the file Illya had been reading, the name finally clicking in his mind.

Elliot Blackwood, arms dealer and weapon manufacturer. Napoleon vaguely remembered being offered the mission to bring him down before the man was dead and it was rumores he had been gotten to by the Russians first. He looked at Illya.

What were the odds that the very Russian who stole the mission out from under him was Illya? But why did the he have the file still? It had to be five years before at least-

"Perhaps Napoleon can make breakfast instead? Prove he has something to add to this little vacation other than his charm." Gaby pointedly suggested, nudging him with her foot. "And Since I'm incapable of keeping my balance right now..."

Napoleon chuckled, looking at Illya who shrugged. "As the lady wishes." He said with an ounce more of charm than usual just because of her comment before he went into the kitchen. On the way, he noticed a small photograph, and he stooped to pick it up. Realizing it had probably fallen from the file, he pocketed it, waiting until he was in the seclusion of the kitchen before he took a look.

It wasn't like reconnaissance photos, where the pictures were taken from far away without anyone knowing. It was a purposeful photo, a woman and three children playing near a fountain, the woman's face turned toward the taker with a smile of pure happiness. A little boy in the photo, who couldn't have been more than five, was waving with a large grin, his hand blurred with movement, and two little girls. Napoleon turned it over.

'Margaret, Miles, Rosie, Jenny. Vienna. 1958.'

How Curious...


It wasn't until later that Napoleon had the chance to try and find the file on his own, having sent out Illya and Gaby for a date which he'd taken the liberty to arrange. He adored both of them, but sometimes they needed a little push in the right direction-or else they'd drive him crazy with how slow they were taking it.

At this rate, he'd be a grandfather by the time they finally got together, and he wasn't anywhere near married yet.

With the rooms to himself, he sought out the case where he'd seen Illya put the file, and using his vast array of knowledge concerning locks and how to open them, he was in it within only about five minutes. He'd have to tell Illya how to make his cases more secure when he was done, they couldn't have anyone and their uncles raiding Illyas cases for vital information.

Taking great care to have a catalog of how everything was when he found it, he searched the case for the file, finding it curious that Illya seemed to keep this file deep in the bag, underneath everything else. "What exactly..." Napoleon found himself muttering. "is so special about this...?" he withdrew the file from earlier, opening it as carefully as possible-again, so nothing would be askew next time Illya decided to do a little night reading.

Settling in with a chardonnay and several hours of safety, Napoleon began reading.

The official documents were dated September of 1957, the dossier of Elliot Blackwood making Napoleon grimace. "Well don't you look like a ray of sunshine." he commented to the photograph attached, pulling out the picture he'd found on the floor earlier in the day and placing it back in the file before he forgot later.

"Alright, let's see what we have here..."


Let me know what you guys think, although this is more personal project that I just need to get out, i'm curious for what those who read it think. :)