Illya stared down at the document before him. A single sheet of paper, three short sentences. A bold line at the bottom, awaiting his signature. His vision blurred; he blinked to clear it.
“Second thoughts?” Olivia Dancer's warm brown eyes studied him from across the table. “If you need more time, sir –?”
So like her mother. “No.” He signed the document with a flourish, and spun the completed paperwork around the conference table, officially closing a chapter in his life. He sat back, feeling an impossible weight lift off his shoulders.
Link takes you to AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6274786