Now as they returned to the beach house once more, they both stared at the black obsidian feather that Phoenix had gifted them with just before he had gone "Cheshire cat" on them, to quote Napoleon. The feather was incredibly intricate, a perfect replica of a raptor's primary, it was almost a foot in length, and the edges were razor sharp, as they had found out when Napoleon had sliced his thumb on the edge. Phoenix had told them that they were to keep it, to show Shado, for that was the name she used now, once they got there. She would understand then, he had said fading from their view. Only the feather and their matching memories the proof that he had even been there.
Exiting from the limo, Napoleon told Tony, their driver, not to wait that he would call when they were ready to leave. Tony drove off, leaving them standing outside the house. Napoleon rang the door bell and they waited. There was the faint sounds of music coming over their heads, indicating that at least someone was still home. Illya had been afraid that Paige might have run in the night. The door opened abruptly and the music filtered out, something they both recognized as a popular rock band. There was a woman standing there that they didn't know. She was tall, close to 5'9" with very dark hair and brown eyes. She smiled at them.
"I am so glad you guys got here." She motioned them in. Her voice wasn't familiar either. She spoke over her shoulder as she headed down the hallway. "Come on she's been waiting for you."
As they passed the dragon statuette they both saw it turn its head and wink. A toothy grin completed the image of a completely happy dragonet. Illya clutched the feather tighter as one of the things that Phoenix had said became reality. No wonder they had felt like they were being watched, he thought. All the statues weren't statues, and they had been watching them. He nodded to the guardian at the door and felt something brush against him in approval.
"Its about time you all showed up." A tall man in his 30's said from his place at the kitchen table. He was cradling a cup of coffee and took a sip from it. Black hair just brushed his shoulders and he sported a goatee. Illya and Napoleon looked at him. It was obvious to them that he knew who they were but they were completely in the dark as to his identity. His eyes caught sight of the feather that Illya held carefully and widened. He whistled sharply and pointed. "Oh that's just effing wonderful. Guaranteed to send her totally over the moon." At his words the woman spun on her heel and followed his finger to the feather. She pursed her lips and shook her head.
"Man, this sucks. Decision made huh?"
"I'm sorry but do we know you? Either of you? You seem to know us." Napoleon said refusing to go any further.
The man chuckled. "You might say that we have already met. In one incarnation more or less." He stood and held out his hand. "I'm Keeper. But you know me best as..." and suddenly the blond twenty something stood there. "Mark." He grinned once more the older dark haired man. Napoleon stared in amazement. Somehow hearing about it was completely different than seeing it first hand. The woman chuckled.
"I'm BlackMage, or Mage if you prefer. Or if you would rather, Natalie."
A sound came from the living area, a solid thunk of something hitting the wall, followed by a muffled squeak and Keeper/Mark hung his head with a heavy sigh. "Mage, see if you can't do something, please. That's the eighth dagger she's thrown at Faln in the past ten minutes. One of these times she might actually hit her."
"Yeah like I'm going to stick my head out there and take one for the team. Nope, sides if she was really serious she wouldn't miss." Mage/Natalie said shaking her head emphatically.
"Oh all right. I'll go let her know that her guests have arrived. IF I'm not back in five minutes..." he said standing. He put his cup of coffee down and disappeared into the other room. Illya started to follow but Mage placed a hand on his arm.
"I would wait until Keeper let's her know you are here. She's not in the best of moods this morning."
"That's an understatement." Said a petite dark haired girl sliding around the corner. "I'm FalnPhoenix, most call me Faln."
"Tricia." Mage supplied. Faln grinned and pulled out her sleeve to display a neat slice through it.
"She's really in a foul mood."
"You need to learn to duck quicker." Mage said. "Coffee?" she offered. Both Napoleon and Illya declined with a head shake. Mage poured herself and Faln a cup.
Yet another thunk this time followed by a man's voice cussing all heralded Keeper's return to the kitchen. He glared over his shoulder and then nodded to them both.
"She's on the deck." He said sitting once more. "I should warn you, she's not had any sleep and is just a little cranky." He emphasized the word little. Both of the girls snorted into their cups. "But I don't think she'll try to skewer you."
"Oh no, that she saves for us." Faln snickered. They exchanged knowing looks as the agents headed into the living area.
Illya's eyes were only for the figure pacing along the deck. Today she was wearing a flowing skirt in a bronze color and a matching cream colored peasant blouse. Her hair hung loose except for the braid that he suspected was a permanent fixture. She was currently bare foot, but a pair of suede boots leaning against the desk told him it was only temporary. Napoleon bumped against his arm, drawing his attention to where ten black hilted daggers stuck out of the mantle edge on the fireplace. They both looked closely at the hilts that swayed slightly. They were made from an odd substance, but then he recognized it as the same substance that made up the feather they carried. Obsidian. Rather brittle for a dagger he thought, but very, very sharp. She must have seen them because she was standing stock still. Her eyes were clamped onto his face, a tender smile gracing her lips. He felt his own smile start. No matter what, he would always love her.
*****
She had not been able to sleep, that retreat denied by the feeling of impending doom that descended on her once her decision had been reached. There was no way that she could tell him, not with the things that she had done in the past, and most certainly not with the current state of her life. She would tell him about their son. She did owe him that much, even take him out to meet him, since Blair was still at the University. But then she would insist that they go their separate ways. It would be better for them all. She wouldn't begrudge Illya his son but he would have to be content with that. As she tossed and turned upstairs in her lonely bed though, her heart had other wishes.
He was all she had ever wanted, her every dream made flesh. To have lost him once had damn near killed her, only the thought of wreaking vengeance on those who had betrayed him had kept her going for a time. Then the birth of their son had been her sole focus. She had lived her life, day to day, carving a niche of safety for her and Blair. When he was finally old enough that she could return to work, she had crafted yet another identity for herself, this time in the military, the Air Force. She had been disappointed to discover that her father had passed away months before from a stroke, she had so wanted to end his life personally. But in a way she was rather relieved, although she had walked away from the Church at the same time she disappeared, the sin of patricide was one she really hadn't wanted on her soul. But the others, they had all paid with their lives. Her skills had won her a coveted place in Black Ops, something she found rather helpful, since some of her intended targets were also wanted by the military.
The only one who she had not hunted had been Napoleon. He hadn't turned his back on them, he had been removed in an underhanded maneuver by her father. She had broken into UNCLE HQ, that's when she had learned of her father's death and Napoleon's appointment as Number One Section One. Something that she was pleased to learn, she had flirted briefly with finding him in the rabbit warren of HQ but instead had only broken into the armory, removing Illya's equipment and ID card from the storage boxes there. He deserved so much better than to be a box in storage.
It took her time to extract her revenge on those who deserved it, but eventually they all died at her hands. Sigorsky though, that one she had particularly enjoyed. She had slit his throat after letting him know who she was, he had begged and pled for his life much as Illya had pled for hers. But she had done it anyway, smiling as he bled out. The last on her list. Then she turned her attentions to her work for the military, becoming one of their top operatives.
As for Blair, he never questioned where his mother disappeared too, seeming content to stay with her "friends" until she returned. Then they would move, rumors that someone was looking for them, pushing her to run once more. Little had she known that although it had been Napoleon, the reason was not the one she feared. So had their lives gone.
She never allowed anyone close again, not willing to risk the pain of a relationship and certainly not wanting to hear his son call any other man father. Not when Blair's every move was pure Illya, not when he had his father's eyes and his smile. No, she didn't want to tarnish her memories with those of someone else.
Now with his return from the dead, all she wanted was to hold him and be held. To have what fate and time had denied them, what was still denied to her. She couldn't ask him to believe something that, even though she lived it, was so fantastic that it was an impossibility. He would never understand, not her Illya, not the prosaic scientist. Her visions had been one thing and she knew that he barely understood those, this was something completely beyond that small ability.
Still though, she wanted him, needed him. To live without him knowing he was alive, the mere thought was more painful than she could stand and she rolled herself out of the bed. Dressing in the first outfit that came to hand, a long skirt and peasant blouse combo Blair had sent her from an expedition a few years back and grabbing the matching suede boots, she headed downstairs to wait for him to return.
She was barely aware of the temper she was taking out on her "kids" as she paced the deck. She certainly wasn't aware of her knife throwing answers to simple questions, all she was aware of was the fact that she was about to break her own heart. Then suddenly, he was there. Standing next to the fireplace, something in his hands that she couldn't see that he handed to Napoleon, ever the shadow at his side. It didn't matter, she felt her heart flip over and a smile crossed her face, the first all morning.
He was dressed in black, her favorite and his usual. A turtleneck and sport coat, black slacks and despite the limp and use of the crutch he was still graceful. He moved slowly toward her and she could see the uncertainty in his eyes. Those eyes, the ones that she had seen staring out of Blair's face for nineteen years, those eyes that had haunted her dreams for the same length of time questioning her decision. Then his arms were around her, his kiss a gentle question, and she knew. She knew that there was no way she would ever be able to let this man walk out of her life, much less throw him out as she had planned. She melted against him, giving him his answer in that simple movement.
Illya could feel it as she relaxed into him, her arms wrapping around him. Paige leaned into him and kissed him back, her lips parting for him. He kissed her slowly relearning her taste, a faint trace of cloves and spices with a hint of nicotine, and he couldn't help his reaction. He moaned and deepened the kiss, forgetting for a moment that they weren't alone. He ran his hands into her hair feeling the weight of it tug at him. She was his, always would be. When at last he broke the kiss, he whispered to her softly.
"Mine." He brushed his lips over hers once more.
"Mine." She replied and bit at his lip. He smiled and just held her.
"I take it you have decided?" he asked knowing her answer.
"Took me all night, and even then I changed my mind." She said into his chest. God, he felt and smelt so very good. "I can't let you go Illyusha. I still love you, but what I have to tell you-well it is going to be difficult for you to listen to much less accept."
Illya chuckled. "I bet dushka."
"Seriously, Illya, come on sit down we need to talk." She pushed him toward one of the deck chairs, her intention to tell him everything.
"I think first, my love, you need to know that Napoleon and I had a most interesting conversation last night, did we not Napasha?" he called to the other man waiting to be acknowledged before he joined them.
"Indeed we did partner." Napoleon joined them on the deck, the feather clasped behind his back. "Good morning Paige." He pulled the feather around and handed it to her. "Or would you rather we call you Shadowed Rainbow?"