"The really unexpected affair," Chapter 15~ (part one) the conclusion.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Links to: Chapter 1. Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10
Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14

Sorry the final chapter was too large so I had to post in two parts...

The next morning all was calm at the Kensington estate, that was until the staff arrived and began scurrying about, busy tidying, cleaning and cooking. Things were getting back to normal, but not quite.

Breakfast was prepared, one fit for a king as Mrs. Dunphy was delighted the Master had returned home. She was disappointed the Mistress and Cavendish weren’t back yet, but anticipated their return, having been assured by Napoleon they were both fine and would be home quite soon.

The household still had to be ready for the visit by the Bishop, and Mrs. Dunphy was a bit concerned without Mrs. Kensington not being there to supervise.

Silver needed polishing, dusting and cleaning was a priority, not to mention the rearranging of the furnishings. Granted the Master was present, but a woman’s touch was always better.

Charles and Napoleon were thoroughly well fed, and had to protest finally as Mrs. Dunphy tried to give them even more to eat.

She seemed excited that everything had turned out well. Much to her relief, the house and family were all safe. That apparently meant cooking to celebrate, with enough food to feed a small army.

“Please, I can’t eat another bite,” Napoleon raised his hand in protest. “I have to watch my girlish figure, unlike Mr. Kuryakin.”

That made her giggle as she carried a tray back to the kitchen along with some of the other help, as Cavendish wasn’t there to see to Mr. Kensington’s needs and that of his guests.”

A sizable tray of food was taken upstairs to Illya, as well as a bucket of ice and an ice pack for his ankle. Mrs. Dunphy had learned her lesson and behaved herself, though she did bring a bottle of her liniment with her just in case.

When she offered soothing salve again, rather contritely, Illya decided to accept her help. The woman proceeded to apply it, carefully massaging his ankle; she wrapped it in an elastic bandage and gently laid an ice pack on it, elevating his leg on several pillows.

“You really did your ankle in sir,” she clicked her tongue.

“It was for a good cause.”

“Yes, you and Mr. Solo were a Godsend, taking care of the likes of those divils.” Mrs. Dunphy had been made aware of the abducted children, and the Thrushmen who were coming for Mrs. Kensington.

“That is an apt term for them. Anyone who could do such... well who would kidnap children is just that,” Illya phrased his answer carefully as he was sure the woman didn’t know anything about the experiments. The details of the affair were something that could not be made public knowledge, even to the parents. If that happened, the backlash might be uncontrollable, and the Command’s involvement would be compromised.

“Will there be anything else Mr. Kuryakin sir?”

“No Mrs. Dunphy. Thank you for taking such good care of me.” He actually smiled at her. “And this wonderful meal.”

That made her blush. “Sure t’is my pleasure. Then I’ll be leaving you to finish your breakfast. If you find you do need anything, or need help, please ring. I’ll send someone up as Mr. Cavendish hasn’t returned yet.” She closed the door, leaving the Russian to his privacy.

Surprisingly, in spite of his abusing the ankle, the swelling had gone down, though it wasn’t perfect. He’d still need his cane for a day or so at least.

Still, the painkillers were working their magic. Illya was not one for using such medication, but for once he did. The assignment had successfully concluded and soon they’d be heading back to New York. He could just imagine the lecture he’d be getting from Medical when they arrived at  headquarters. This would be a post mission physical he would not be able to avoid but for some reason he didn’t really care.

Illya wondered if it was the pills had mellowed him, especially when it came to Mrs. Dunphy, though the woman no longer fawned over him, thank goodness, so that did help.

He was looking forward to being able to move about without assistance, and started going over in his head as to the reports that would need to be filed for this unexpected affair. There’d be plenty of paperwork to do both his and Solo’s; better to type it all up as Napoleon’s chicken scratch had a way of annoying Mr. Waverly.

He was also anxious to find out what R&D in London had deciphered with that notebook, thought it would take some time to do so.

Dismissing that for the moment, Illya closed his eyes with a sigh after finishing most of his breakfast.

There was too much food for even his formidable appetite; eggs, toast, rashers, bangers, scones with jam and clotted cream, hot oatmeal with sultanas, and a nice large pot of piping hot tea...and she remembered, a large glass of tomato juice. He was partial to that.

After finishing his food, Illya was relaxed at last and drifted off to a well deserved dreamless sleep; his demons finally held at bay.

The rest of the day he spent in bed, remaining there except for a trip to the loo. With a few visits from his partner to check up on him, Illya buried his nose in a leather bound copy of “War and Peace.” Though he’d read it as a youngster while hiding in the ruins of Kyiv, he’d never reread it again and thought now would be an opportune time to do so. *

His eidetic memory enabled him to remember almost everything he’d read, but going back and handling a book added that tactile  sensation of turning a page, and feeling the weight of the tome in his hands.

‘War and Peace’ could have brought back unwanted memories, but he took his chances.

“Volkov boyat'sa — v les ne khodit,” he said to himself... because one fears wolves, is one not to go into the woods? Or as Napoleon would say, “If you can not stand the heat, stay out of the kitchen.”

Illya always faced what haunted him in his dreams, yet they were just that, dreams and not real. Once they were, but that was a long time ago. He was a grown man now who had taken a vow to help keep the evil in the world at bay, and that was all that mattered.

Still the demons, and lifeless eyes came back to torment him again and again. Time after time he'd deal with them, sending away his fears and banishing them until they became nothing, yet again.

'

Tonight he would not permit those dreams to encroach upon a good night's rest for once. He, Napoleon and the others had saved the children from an awful fate at the hands of THRUSH, and that was what mattered...still, Illya couldn't help but think of all those childen from his past who could not be saved, how could he not remember them? There were so no one alive to honor their memories but him, really.

"Rest well my friends, and let me sleep tonight," he whispered before closing the light. He let himself picture their once smiling faces, instead of the the masks of suffering they wore at the end.