The three UNCLE agents slowly made their way to the minor highway that ran next to the town in the distance. The sun was setting in the trees behind and open fields lay before them, fenced with cattle grazing. The highway was overblown with drifts, and appeared icy in patches. The snow crossing the road was untracked. Two miles down the road Illya could see orange barricades set up past the exit to the town of Naroca.

"Must have closed the road." Gaby sighed, and pulled on the straps digging into her shoulders. She was beginning to walk with a stoop, and stepped very carefully. That morning, as everyone carefully dressed, Illya had seen the blisters cut into her feet from the brand new boots and sweaty socks. While the damage to her face was not as bad as Illya had feared, her nose was slightly swollen, and blood pooled under her eyes giving her the appearance of a beaten wife. Her jaw was scraped and bruised as well, although she still could talk, and Illya presumed it was not broken. When she had rolled up her sleeves of the thermal undershirt she wore in the tent last night, he had seen bruising starting on her forearms. She had taken an aspirin herself, when she offered it to the men from the first aid kit, but only one. Gaby did not complain about her pain, other than to grump about the weight of the bag.

Solo had offered to rub her shoulders, but Gaby only rolled her eyes at him. "The last time I got that close to you, you threw up all over me." Illya disliked seeing her in pain, but found himself a little pleased at her refusal. Perhaps he could bring it up when they got cleaned up and settled, and give her a proper Russian massage.

Illya had an arm under Solo's shoulder and around his back. The American walked with his head slumped, and the group frequently stopped as he became increasingly dizzy. Resting for few minutes gave Solo a chance to relax and clear his head. Illya had offered to carry him, who simply said "Not yet". He had stopped throwing up, but was not eating well enough to please his teammates. The wound next to his hairline on his temple would likely heal to be less noticeable, but Illya wished he could have stitched it. When he replaced the gauze that morning, it gaped ugly, and was crusted with old blood. The KGB had plastic surgeons that helped with disfiguring wounds, like the one by his eye, so perhaps the Americans would have similar services.

As he walked, Illya bitterly condemned himself for destroying the vehicle he could have used to have his partners to medical care a day ago. His own aches were irrelevant; the twinge from his knee and ankle had resumed. There had been no sign of the Racine group, perhaps that last party they encountered the day before had been what remained. He doubted they would have been able to find many alive in the decimated building, so likely the survivors were the lucky guards combing the grounds or already out in the woods when the C4 detonated. Revenge or perhaps a suspicion that the UNCLE agents had data on their organization or project had driven them to seek out the party fleeing through the woods, and sent them to their deaths.

Illya had infrequently tried the radio, but either Waverly had cut ties with the agents, believing them dead, or his radio did not work. He removed the back with Solo's lock picking set, and tried to check the connections were sound, but it had not changed the dead air they received in response, much to the American's chagrin. Illya maintained that he had not bent the strut of metal that badly.

Gaby had not said much that night or during the day. The somewhat jovial mood of relief from the night before sitting on the log trying to thaw their hands over the small fire had gone up in smoke. Solo was exhausted, and Illya was sure Gaby's jaw hurt. He also noticed her face crumple at times, and she shook her head as if to clear it. She was going to have to talk to someone when they got back. Maybe Waverly, maybe someone trained to work with people newer to combat. Illya wished he knew what to say, but he felt pride in her, and shame at his own failure that he had not been faster or smarter in preventing her having to shoot her gun or wield the blade at all. It would never cross Illya's mind to suggest to her to leave. Gaby needed to come to grips what being an agent entailed.

As the three walked down the side of the road, footing was a bit slippery. The elevation of the road had enabled most of the snow to be blown off, aside from the finger drifts reaching across. They had made it a quarter of a mile before a truck came from the direction of the town, slowed and navigated around the barriers.

Illya had broken down his AR-15 and the Uzi stowing them and left the tent and his cast iron pot behind in the woods to make room for the weapons in the bag, when the empty highway first came into sight. The pistol hidden in his pocket felt a bit inadequate as the red truck bounced over the snow drifts sliding side to side towards them. Illya could see the outline of the driver, a woman's hair easily visible. Gaby retreated to his side, her hand also in her pocket. Her shoulders shook, and she looked between the truck and then back to him. Solo's fatigue was evident in his response time; the truck was nearly upon them when he finally heard it, because stopping did not seem alert to him to the potential threat.

"Gaby, take Solo." She nodded and slipped Solo's arm over her shoulder. "Time to play it Cowboy's way." Illya muttered to her.

"Illya, what's going on?" Gaby demanded as he walked away from his battered team and screwed on the best worried, exhausted, and cold look onto his face that he could. It was not a stretch.

The vehicle slowed and did half a U-turn, stopping in the middle of the road. The driver shifted, and pushed the passenger side door, closest to Illya open. He could see warm air crystalize as it exited the vehicle. Illya recognized the face he saw peering at him; not anyone from the mission dossiers, but was the woman who ran the diner, Annette. Her eyebrow lifted into her hairline as she swept her gaze across the three of them. "Dear Lord, pardon me for saying so, but what have we here? Hurry up and get in, I'll take you three back to town." Annette offered.

Illya felt a bit lightheaded as all tension rushed out of him. Any form of extraction was better late than never. He congratulated himself on leaving that large tip. "Thank you." Illya said, putting just an edge of chattiness into his voice. He waved for Gaby and turned to help her and Solo. Solo tilted his head in confusion, took a step away from Gaby and ended up sitting on the road in the middle of the highway. Gaby was on her knees then grabbed his shoulders. Illya took the bag from her, and threw it in the back of the truck.

"I was just out to my sister's for Sunday supper, but I'm glad I was running a bit late. I saw you on the horizon and thought that maybe someone's cows were out, but you were much too small for that." Annette shifted her vehicle into park, and jumped out when Solo fell. "What happened?" She looked at Solo in alarm and then she saw Gaby's face.

"No one's been beating on you, have they, sweetie?" Annette asked kindly. "You look frozen to the bone."

Gaby smiled painfully. "My cousin would never let them leave if they tried." She tilted her head at Solo. "We were driving up to one of the mines for work, and we got lost, put our vehicle in the ditch. This man rescued us, but his Ski-Doo hit a rock on the way back. It was a bit a of rough landing." Gaby took the Annnette's offered hand to get to her feet. "Jack, are you okay?"

"It sounds like you three have been through the mill. I'll have you back to town quick, and I'll open up my restaurant. I live above the place, and I'll cook you up a nice supper and I'll run down to sheriff, and he'll call the doctor for you. I'm sure Mr. Dahl from the general store could find some clean clothes for everyone." And then Annette looked up and down at Illya. "Maybe."

Illya assisted Solo back to his feet, and steered him into the vehicle after Gaby. The bench seat would be full with the three of them. Gaby held Solo as he leaned on her. "I'll be in the back. Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere." Illya tried to smile.

"You three seem to have had quite an adventure together. To go from being strangers to looking at each other like that?" Annette observed as Illya placed a hand on the back of the truck bed. His knee twinged painfully when he bent it to step onto the back tire and ungracefully entered the truck bed. He slumped against the back window as he pulled the face mask of the toque back down. The wind whipped at Illya as the truck accelerated, none too gently bouncing over the drifts, but the last two miles back to town took ten minutes. Only ten minutes and they were stopped in front of the diner. Illya could see the truck he'd rented still parked there, covered in snow with his own radio equipment still under the passenger seat. He vaulted over the side of the truck and found himself sitting on the sidewalk, his tailbone aching with fresh pain.

"Oh dear," Annette said and rushed to pull him up. "You don't seem too good yourself."

If Illya wasn't too chilled to blush he would have. "Must have been ice. Just tired. And cold." He ignored the urge to rub his backside, with Solo's grin in the side mirror. Illya opened the door with more force than necessary. "Come on Jack. Let's get you inside," he growled. Solo's smirk did not fade.

"Very smoothly done. You should try out for the Olympic gymnastics team." Solo said.

"You sound better." Illya observed, and helped the American into the diner, seating him far from the icy glass door. Gaby sat in the booth next to Illya, appearing to wilt after stripping off her snowsuit to sit in just long underwear.

Annette flew back out onto the street, calling back, "I turned on the coffee pot, and put it on the stove. I'll just be right to the sheriff and stop at Mr. Dahl's house. You get warmed up and something to drink. I'll be right back."

When the door banged shut, Illya looked at Gaby tenderly. "I have back up radio in my vehicle parked on the street. I should go contact Waverly."

Gaby rested her head on the table in front of her. "Sounds good."

"You're in the way." Illya tried to suggest.

"Shush. Just sit." Gaby said.

Solo had lain back against the padded bench to lie flat, still in full gear, with his knees bent and feet on the floor in the aisle. "She has a good point, Peril. Do you really want to go back outside right now?"

"We should report in." Illya protested.

"I believe we agreed not to split up until we could arrange hot baths in Ottawa, and right now you're outvoted." Solo said, supine.

"This is why democracy does not work," Illya said with an affected pout. He saw Gaby's chest puff up from where she sat. "Nothing gets done." Gaby huffed out a laugh. He cautiously tucked an arm around her shoulders, and she shuffled closer to him.

"That was a good story you spun there, Miss Teller." Solo praised her. "I, of course, would have said you were my wife, but then cuddling with Peril would have looked scandalous to the town's folks." Illya's did blush this time, and he almost jerked his arm away. Solo's eyes had been closed the entire time, but he was a good spy.

Gaby's small hand grabbed his and pulled him closer. She straightened and turned to look at him. "We never would have gotten out of that building without you, or survived the trip back. You are a good man, Illya. I couldn't ask for a more devoted team," she glanced at Solo quickly, but quickly resumed staring up into Illya's eyes. "Nothing could ever make me change my mind about that."

When Gaby said his name, a hot wave ran through him. Illya dipped his head and cupped his hand to the soft unmarred skin on her chin. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a hand over Solo's face. He smiled softly as he took his time to kiss her. Illya pulled back first, to catch the look in her eyes, but they were still closed. Her shoulders rolled back, and she dragged her teeth over her lip. He waited her out. He was be exceedingly patient when he needed to be.

Gaby lifted those long dark lashes, as a low giggle escaped her. "Finally." Illya brushed his hand tenderly over the uninjured half of her face, and was about to see if he could get her to make that noise again, when the door to diner banged open forcefully.

Five armed men pushed in.

Illya had his weapon drawn, balanced in a comfortable grip, when the man in front snapped off a sharp salute. Illya waited with his gun aimed. They wore fatigues, he realized. And the caps on their heads were official.

"We were sent to provide assistance and extraction for a team of agents responsible for a counterterrorism plot." The man in front said, not moving his hands from his sides. "Your man Waverly had us dispatched. He said to tell you, Agent Kuryakin, to keep your damned radio on next time." Illya pulled his finger off the trigger, and noticed Gaby point her gun at the floor in his peripheral vision.

"We have him on radio right now," the soldier, said, not moving. The man at the rear of the procession had a headset on, and the backpack he wore obviously contained technical equipment.

"Gaby?" Illya asked. She nodded and slid out of the booth. The man with the radio stepped forward.

She listened for a few minutes and frowned. "Next time, we are responsible for holding the prisoners. Solo's a little worse for wear, but we're seeing a doctor tonight. Have plastics meet us in Ottawa tomorrow. Kuryakin pulled us out and dragged us thirty-one kilometers. We eliminated the rest of the organization on the walk back. One of the KGB's best? No. UNCLE's best." She said, and took off the headset.

Solo pulled himself up from where he lay, and put his gun on the table. "All clear, Gaby?"

"Yes, Waverly says he's got a five-star suite booked for us in the capitol. And says he's glad we're okay." Gaby turned sharply to the men that stood around her. "You were late."

The soldiers uniformly flinched. The leader spoke up. "We were delayed by the storm two nights ago, and our flyovers could not spot you."

"The town believes us to be travelling to work at the mines, and Illya to be a winter camper." Solo offered. "You are here because Illya managed to put out a distress call on his radio before it broke, and since he is an important ambassador from the Ukraine, you were sent to find him. Well done." The last words bit with sarcasm.

"Yes sir."

"Which is something you won't say again when our generous host walks through the door, in three, two, one." Solo waved his hand, as the bell above the glass door tinkled open. Gaby moved to sit next to Solo so she could face the door. Illya stuffed his gun and Gaby's into his jacket, and zipped it back up. Solo's piece was simply gone, but he never saw the American move.

Annette entered the diner, and let the door bang shut behind her, as she looked over the airmen in the entryway. "Will you gentlemen be having supper as well?"

"No, ma'am, we will be returning to base if the ambassador has no further need for us," the lieutenant said.

"I will be able to manage. Thank you." Illya said a bit stiffly. The men filed out.

Annette shuffled up to their booth and set down a shopping bag. "Ambassador? You said you were a businessman who emigrated from the Ukraine." She sounded a bit hurt.

"I am," Illya soothed. "Just don't wish to bring up politics at table. Is not polite."

"Indeed it's not. What will you be having tonight? I'll bring you some coffee. You must be exhausted. How far did you have to walk?"

"Too far," Solo answered. "I happen to be a bit of a chef myself, just surprise us."

Annette smiled. "You three can stay with me tonight. I have two extra beds since my children moved out, if two of you don't mind sharing or sleeping on the sofa."

"A bed sounds lovely." Gaby sighed.

"The doctor will come see you. We even have a small hospital if you need more care. I'll get some ointment for your face, my dear." Annette bustled away.

Solo looked as though he longed to lie down again, but sighed deeply instead. "I suppose we are going to get dragged to this backwater hospital before the night's over."

"I think we need proof your brain has not leaked out of your ears, Cowboy. And doctor should have a look at Gaby's face." Illya said softly, as she reached up to trace the swollen edge of her jaw.

"How are you going to explain the chunk missing from your shoulder, Peril? That needs a good washing out and dressing too." Solo replied. "I'm thinking you gouged yourself with a stick when we tumbled from the Ski-Doo you destroyed."

"Was accident." Illya grumbled, and fingered the forgotten wound on the base of his neck. It did feel a bit too warm.

"Are your feet looking better? You didn't take off your socks last night. I wouldn't want your toes to be gangrenous from when they almost froze." Solo reminded.

"They're fine. Quiet, she's coming with the coffee."

"You sound like family bickering out here." Annette said holding a tray of water and coffee for each of them.

Illya snagged Solo's coffee away from him. "Bring him a soda please, hit his head, no coffee until the doctor sees him." Solo scowled at Illya.

MFU

Illya rested back in the large jetted Jacuzzi where he could hear his team, having pre-emptively bugged their rooms. The warm water pushed at the stiff spots in his back, easing the overexerted muscles from days of either hauling Solo or the bugout bag through unforgiving territory. Gaby had the radio on in her room, half singing along, and he heard the tinkling of glass. He hoped she would not overindulge, as he was hoping to talk with her before they retired for the evening.

Solo was snoring. For all his talk of having an elaborate bath, he had freshened up quickly, and hopped into bed. Illya had asked Waverly to remove the alcohol from his rooms prior to their arrival. Solo need some downtime before they were mission-ready again. Downtime where he was not chasing women, or drinking. For now, Solo seemed to take the doctor's advice and his teammate's guidelines to heart.

Illya dutifully kept the bandage on his neck dry, and his feet were intact. He planned to keep his calisthenics gentle, with plenty of stretching for the next few days, before returning to his normal routine. They should have made better time on that mission, and his inattention allowing them to be ambushed was inexcusable. Those men had been in place when Illya had made his way to the road, and he had been distracted. His finger was so busy tapping on his thigh, his vision tinting red as he reviewed his mistakes that had nearly cost his teammates their lives that he failed to notice Gaby leave her adjoining suite and enter his. The knock at the bathroom door caught him off guard, and that only made him tenser. He was losing his touch.

"Illya, are you still in there?" Gaby called through the door. "You didn't fall asleep in the tub?" She waited, and Illya tried to take a deep breath and calm himself. He rinsed the soap out of his hair, putting his head under the water. The act of cleaning himself edged away some of the tension. When he emerged, he heard another loud thud on the door. "Illya, answer me this instant. And why can I hear my radio playing in your bathroom? That's not your snoring."

He stood up from the tub, feeling a rush, as the warm water had the blood circulating everywhere but his head. He grabbed one of the soft towels, and wrapped it around his waist, after drying his hands and switched off his radio scanners roughly. "I'm fine, Gaby. Go back to your room."

"I'll wait. Do you have a robe in there?" Gaby said, a stubborn tilt in her voice.

"That's not decent." Illya said.

"I'll get Solo to come pick the lock." Gaby threatened, and he realised she could hear the anger underlying his tone. She knew he was teetering on the edge of control. He was a poor actor.

He tried a more even voice, but it just increased the thickness of his accent. "Cowboy's asleep, finally. Leave him be." He shrugged on the robe, tying it, and wished it covered more of his legs. His hair was wet and flat against his head.

He unlocked and pulled open the door, and saw Gaby reclining at the foot of his bed, wearing silk pajamas, her legs crossed. Her eyes tracked up his body, to the bare skin poking out of the robe on his chest, and back down his arm, to where his hand was still twitching.

Gaby's brown eyes searched his face. "Illya, what's wrong?"

"I failed you both. Should have realized about ambush. Should never have left you alone." Illya said, and repeating his failures out loud made it all the more real to him. Illya saw a frown on her face, and was sure he felt her realization of his ineptitude. He expected her to shout at him, or leave. He turned away, not wanting to see Gaby go. He thought too highly of her to have that memory.

Gaby's arms wrapped around him, and grabbed both of his hands, her tiny fingers doing their best to envelop his and still them. She laid her head between his shoulder blades, and Illya gratefully accepted the pain the contact with his bruise made. "Illya, calm down." Gaby rocked on her feet, and Illya allowed himself to be moved with her. She lifted her head, and kissed the back of his robe, moving her hands up under his sleeves, and his hands did not start to twitch again. "Good," she let go. "Turn around."

Illya did, looking at her brown eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "I thought I wished you were not a man with this temper. I remember when you shot that man trying to kill me, and saw that anger then." Gaby brought his hand up, and it trembled again. She pressed another kiss to his fingers. "I'm glad you got angry for me. But this, now, is pointless. What happened, happened. You did your best for us, and your best got us both out alive. Solo's only regret is he's not up to seducing the concierge. Don't ignore everything that you did for us, for something that went wrong." Gaby buried her face in his bare chest.

"Gaby, this is not proper," the words came out very quiet, a bit panicky. Gaby saw the look on Illya's face, and she nodded understandingly and backed up.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Leave," Illya said quickly, and he saw a flash of hurt on her face. "So I can put on some clothes. Then I will come join you, and you can drink and dance, and I will learn."

"You want to dance with me?" Gaby asked.

"Only you." Illya answered and bent to her smiling lips.

MFU

A heartfelt thanks to everyone who has read this story. I received such wonderful feedback with this, it's hard not to want write more. I hope everyone enjoyed the conclusion, and the bit of romance.

I deeply appreciate the efforts of my beta –rebelliousrose, who was kind enough to tackle my work.

Eleanourestel from fanfic asked for me to write a story where Solo was hurt and the team could not immediately access medical intervention, and PerilousCowboy requested me to write a hypothermia/stranded fic, when I was wondering what to tackle next.

So please send me prompts, I'll find a way to use them ;)

Next up is a twoshot were Solo's proclivities lands him in a bit of trouble.

Thank you everyone. See you next time.

Appendix – Song list

Iron – Woodkid

Violet Hill – Coldplay

By My Side – 3 Doors Down

Breakdown - Tantric

It's Been Awhile - Staind