#smileswithgrace

There was no sign of the little ring. Her right hand moved over, fiddling with her left ring finger for a moment, missing the little bit of weight there. Gaby’s lips pressed into a thin line as she paced about the room. Her brown eyes sweeping across the room looking for any sign of the piece of jewelry. There was nothing in the bedroom which prompted her to check the bathroom then the small jewelry box in her closet before she made her way back out. The small London flat belonged to her, a new home for a new job away from the Iron Curtain and here she was tearing it apart. Pillows littered the ground along with junk mail and a few pieces of clothes. She was on the floor when the front door opened.

Her legs were crossed under her as she reached inside of the liquor cabinet, fingers pulling at different bottles for any sign of the little ring. The only thing she remembered from the night before was talking of the possible chance of going to the beach while they would be on a mission in Spain. After that it was all a sort of drunken haze from one too many tumblers full of clear liquid.

“What happened here?” Illya’s voice echoes over the small flat and Gaby freezes in place. She hasn’t been able to find the ring and now the sudden feeling of guilt is welling up in her chest. She shouldn’t feel guilty over a fake ring but it means something to her. It was the start of a new life, the start of a new job, and even the starting spark to her relationship with the KGB Agent.

“Redecorating.” Gaby informs him as she pulls the cork out of one of the bottles at her feet and she takes a quick drink from it. Illya’s coat is covered in small flurries and his cheeks are slightly flushed from the winter winds, but that isn’t what has her attention. In his hand there’s a little black shopping back and he’s playing with the string, rocking the bag back and forth.

The tall Russian shakes his head, gesturing to the mess around the flat, “The whole place?”

He seems amused with her and backs away, shrugging off his trench coat and hanging it by the door before he pulls off his hat. His blond hair is slightly mused and he’s trying to get his gloves off while she gets herself to her feet, leaning against the back of the couch, “Seems that way, what’s that?”

She points at the bag in his hand and he raises it up, “This?”

“Yes, that.” Gaby nods as he holds up the bag and shakes it, reminding her all over again of the morning after ‘wrestling’ in Rome. The edges of his lips turning up into a small smile as he edged towards her. He towered over her easily leaning down a bit as she turned her head up to meet him.

“Do you really want to know?” He asked softly eyebrows raising as she leans up on the tips of her toes. Even on the very tips of her toes she can’t reach him. Illya has to close the gap between them and he does just that. He meets her halfway for a quick kiss. Electricity sparks across her lips as he kisses her before pulling back from her.

“I do.” She answers him with her cheeks flushed now, peering up at him through thick lashes.

He leans back just a bit more, “Then explain why you have destroyed the house.”

Something inside Gaby deflates. She exhales loudly and leans back on her feet, clasping her hands in front of her for a moment. Deciding not to answer him, she takes a couple steps back from him and looks around at the destruction she’s caused in the little tiny flat. It looks like a small tornado has ripped through, destroying the hard work the decorator originally  had put into it. Her teeth sank low into her bottom lip and she turned to face him, twisting her fingers together.

“I lost it.” Gaby finally whispers the words that have been bothering her all day long.  She has looked in every nook and cranny, and there is still no sign of the little fake engagement ring.

“Lost what?” His Russian accent is thick and heavy in his words, making her feel like a child in trouble as she bites harder on her bottom lip.

Gaby sucks in another sharp breath and turns away from him, pushing her hands together along the back of the couch, she can’t seem to face him at the moment. It feels silly and yet she’s full of a guilt she can’t quite put her finger on as she spills her secret, “My ring. The little pearl one. It’s gone.”

Gaby holds up her left hand, her back to Illya and wiggles her fingers. Her eyes slide along the ruined living room when she feels Illya’s chest brush along her back. Part of her contemplates leaning back into him, but the sudden feeling of something cold on her hand pulls that idea away from her. Her brown eyes glance to her left hand and the new ring Illya is sliding down along her finger. It fits perfect and it looks identical to the little false one she’s worn since Rome. The only difference is that it feels heavier, it feels real.

“I-Illya,”