Chapter 1: Illya's POV during the scene in Solo's hotel room

All dialogue except for the last sentence is taken from the film.

"So, what now?" Solo asks as he returns to his packing, turning his back on Illya. "Mission accomplished. Head back to Russia?"

Illya moves further into the room. He slowly unzips his jacket. His doesn't want to do this. Doesn't want to kill the American. He's killed before. He always follows orders. This time though, he doesn't want to.

He's never had a partner before. Always works alone. If it wasn't for the American he would be dead. No-one would have grieved for him. Except, perhaps Solo and Gaby? Would they have raised a glass of vodka to honour him? The thought pleases him.

"Something like this," He replies as Solo glances over his shoulder at his continued silence, before turning back to fuss with his belongings. "You?"

"New York." Solo replies almost cheerily. Like he's happy to be heading home. There will only be humiliation if Illya returns home having failed. But then, Solo hasn't failed. He has the disk. He will undoubtedly be rewarded.

Illya reaches into his jacket and curls his fingers round the butt of his gun. He really doesn't want to do this. He'll have no choice but to kill. Solo is dangerous. He can't be underestimated. Illya tries to keep his hand from trembling. He tries desperately to think of a way to make Solo give him the disk. To stand down. But all Illya can see is death. His own or Solo's. They are both bound by leashes held tightly by unscrupulous masters. Illya by shame, Solo by blackmail. He tightens his grip on his gun.

"Oh, almost forgot, got something for you." Solo suddenly turns and something is hurtling towards Illya. He almost draws his gun. The object is small, it's not a weapon. Illya abandons his gun and catches it. He stares at it for a moment, unbelieving. Turns it around to check the back, to see the familiar, faded inscription. He pushes up his sleeve and fastens the watch to his wrist. He looks at Solo in astonishment. He thought his father's watch lost forever. Given away far too cheaply for the sake of a mission. He is at a loss to articulate the feelings that rush through him. Relief. Gratefulness. Contentment.

"You know what my mission is?" he asks Solo instead.

"Same as mine was. To kill me if necessary to get that…" Solo picks up his discarded waistcoat to fully reveal the cursed disk.

Illya knows he will be going home to humiliation and shame. He cannot carry out his orders. Not now. At least his life will become much simpler. To survive in the gulag until it is deemed he has been punished enough. That he can do. It is better than killing a … friend.

"I have idea," Solo says as he dons his waistcoat.