"Collapse" (Short Affair Challenge 4/11)
Apr. 11th, 2016 01:29 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
rose-of-pollux.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
section7mfuShort Affair 4/11
Prompt: Drift
Color: Black
Title: Collapse
Author: Rose of Pollux
Word Count: ~980
(This is an "early days" fic, taking place very early in the partnership)
Waking up in pitch black conditions with an aching, bruised, and battered body was nothing new for Illya. He’d done so five times already, and was expecting that he would continue to drift in and out of consciousness as long as he remained here… wherever “here” happened to be.
He tried to concentrate, trying to remember what had happened. His memory was missing large pieces—he knew his name and who he worked for, but picking up the pieces of his memory were more difficult than he thought.
“Explosion…” he mumbled. “Mine shaft…”
Yes, of course—a power-hungry property owner had been determined to get every diamond in the mine to hand over to THRUSH, and the man had forced numerous people to dig for them. Illya had been tasked with getting the workers out. And he had succeeded, searching the depths of the mine for every last one. But something had gone wrong with his escape.
Illya blinked. There had been someone else working with him—someone important. This person had been tasked to destroy the mine and all of the THRUSH equipment there, and had set up all the dynamite and charges to do so.
And then Illya had remembered a fight—a fight against THRUSH members that he, Illya, had gotten involved in so that his colleague could have a clear path to the exit.
Illya had fully intended to get out, as well. But more and more THRUSH grunts had shown up, slowing him down—and all unbeknownst to this other person he’d been working with, who had assumed he had gotten out of the mine with everyone else.
Illya had almost made it out, though—he had seen the entrance of the mine and had been almost there when the explosions had gone off. The ground beneath him had given way and Illya found himself falling among boulders and chunks of rock and mud, fear gripping his heart before all went dark.
That other person, though… who was he? Had he succeeded in his half of the mission? What had become of him?
Illya realized that he couldn’t find out even if he wanted to; he was almost completely buried in rock and debris—it was only by a miracle that there was enough of an air pocket near his nose and mouth to keep him alive. And even that, he realized, was limited.
He shut his eyes now, trying to slip back into unconsciousness; there would be no dread of starvation or suffocation if he wasn’t awake to face it.
He had been just beginning to slip back into the darkness when he heard an echoing cry.
“ILLYA…!”
Someone was calling for him—a frantic call that sounded like it was coming from outside the collapsed mine. Somewhere in the pile of debris that was trapping him, his communicator rang, but Illya was in no position to be able to answer it.
“ILLYA…!”
That voice sounded so familiar… Slowly, Illya realized that it belonged to the person he’d been working with—his partner. Illya’s eyes suddenly widened. He remembered now!
Illya had contacted his partner after rescuing the last of the workers, saying that he was heading out of the mine with them. But then, Illya had seen the THRUSH grunts moving through the mine to stop his partner, and had gone after them to fight in order to give his partner time to escape. And Illya remembered seeing him just outside the mine, keeping an eye on his watch to time the dynamite charges—and had looked up to see Illya nearing the exit. Illya remembered his partner’s brown eyes widening in sheer horror as he realized that Illya had not made it out until that moment, as well as the realization of the fate he had condemned Illya to--just a split-second before the charges went off and the mine collapsed, taking Illya with it….
“ILLYA…!”
Light was filtering down through the debris that had landed on top of him in such a position that the majority of the weight was not on Illya directly, as well as allowing Illya that pocket of air. Bit by bit, he could see the debris being pulled away until Illya could see those brown eyes again, now filled with a weight that had been even heavier than the debris pile.
Illya blinked a couple of times, and then his blue eyes widened in recognition as his memory fully returned.
“Napoleon…!” he gasped, but then began to cough.
Napoleon immediately pressed an oxygen mask over Illya’s nose and mouth, and the Russian breathed the pure oxygen in greedily as Napoleon attempted to free the rest of Illya’s face and head from the debris pile in which he was still buried.
“Reinforcements are coming,” Napoleon assured him, his voice a little deeper than normal thanks to the suppressed emotions. “Just hold on, Illya—just a bit longer.”
The reinforcements arrived and succeeded in freeing Illya, who turned out to be far more fortunate than the THRUSH grunts who had also been caught in the mine collapse. But Illya wasn’t thinking about them; he was focused on Napoleon, who was still holding the oxygen to his face, apologizing profusely for not double-checking that he had made it out of the mine first before finalizing the timers on the charges.
But with a squeeze of his hand, Illya reassured Napoleon that he was not to blame—Illya had, after all, said he was leaving with the last of the workers, and it was only natural for Napoleon to have assumed that to be true.
Napoleon had merely sighed in response, just grateful that Illya was going to recover. Until then, it was going to be a long wait in Medical—a wait that Napoleon fully intended to spend by Illya’s bedside.
And Illya wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
Prompt: Drift
Color: Black
Title: Collapse
Author: Rose of Pollux
Word Count: ~980
(This is an "early days" fic, taking place very early in the partnership)
Waking up in pitch black conditions with an aching, bruised, and battered body was nothing new for Illya. He’d done so five times already, and was expecting that he would continue to drift in and out of consciousness as long as he remained here… wherever “here” happened to be.
He tried to concentrate, trying to remember what had happened. His memory was missing large pieces—he knew his name and who he worked for, but picking up the pieces of his memory were more difficult than he thought.
“Explosion…” he mumbled. “Mine shaft…”
Yes, of course—a power-hungry property owner had been determined to get every diamond in the mine to hand over to THRUSH, and the man had forced numerous people to dig for them. Illya had been tasked with getting the workers out. And he had succeeded, searching the depths of the mine for every last one. But something had gone wrong with his escape.
Illya blinked. There had been someone else working with him—someone important. This person had been tasked to destroy the mine and all of the THRUSH equipment there, and had set up all the dynamite and charges to do so.
And then Illya had remembered a fight—a fight against THRUSH members that he, Illya, had gotten involved in so that his colleague could have a clear path to the exit.
Illya had fully intended to get out, as well. But more and more THRUSH grunts had shown up, slowing him down—and all unbeknownst to this other person he’d been working with, who had assumed he had gotten out of the mine with everyone else.
Illya had almost made it out, though—he had seen the entrance of the mine and had been almost there when the explosions had gone off. The ground beneath him had given way and Illya found himself falling among boulders and chunks of rock and mud, fear gripping his heart before all went dark.
That other person, though… who was he? Had he succeeded in his half of the mission? What had become of him?
Illya realized that he couldn’t find out even if he wanted to; he was almost completely buried in rock and debris—it was only by a miracle that there was enough of an air pocket near his nose and mouth to keep him alive. And even that, he realized, was limited.
He shut his eyes now, trying to slip back into unconsciousness; there would be no dread of starvation or suffocation if he wasn’t awake to face it.
He had been just beginning to slip back into the darkness when he heard an echoing cry.
“ILLYA…!”
Someone was calling for him—a frantic call that sounded like it was coming from outside the collapsed mine. Somewhere in the pile of debris that was trapping him, his communicator rang, but Illya was in no position to be able to answer it.
“ILLYA…!”
That voice sounded so familiar… Slowly, Illya realized that it belonged to the person he’d been working with—his partner. Illya’s eyes suddenly widened. He remembered now!
Illya had contacted his partner after rescuing the last of the workers, saying that he was heading out of the mine with them. But then, Illya had seen the THRUSH grunts moving through the mine to stop his partner, and had gone after them to fight in order to give his partner time to escape. And Illya remembered seeing him just outside the mine, keeping an eye on his watch to time the dynamite charges—and had looked up to see Illya nearing the exit. Illya remembered his partner’s brown eyes widening in sheer horror as he realized that Illya had not made it out until that moment, as well as the realization of the fate he had condemned Illya to--just a split-second before the charges went off and the mine collapsed, taking Illya with it….
“ILLYA…!”
Light was filtering down through the debris that had landed on top of him in such a position that the majority of the weight was not on Illya directly, as well as allowing Illya that pocket of air. Bit by bit, he could see the debris being pulled away until Illya could see those brown eyes again, now filled with a weight that had been even heavier than the debris pile.
Illya blinked a couple of times, and then his blue eyes widened in recognition as his memory fully returned.
“Napoleon…!” he gasped, but then began to cough.
Napoleon immediately pressed an oxygen mask over Illya’s nose and mouth, and the Russian breathed the pure oxygen in greedily as Napoleon attempted to free the rest of Illya’s face and head from the debris pile in which he was still buried.
“Reinforcements are coming,” Napoleon assured him, his voice a little deeper than normal thanks to the suppressed emotions. “Just hold on, Illya—just a bit longer.”
The reinforcements arrived and succeeded in freeing Illya, who turned out to be far more fortunate than the THRUSH grunts who had also been caught in the mine collapse. But Illya wasn’t thinking about them; he was focused on Napoleon, who was still holding the oxygen to his face, apologizing profusely for not double-checking that he had made it out of the mine first before finalizing the timers on the charges.
But with a squeeze of his hand, Illya reassured Napoleon that he was not to blame—Illya had, after all, said he was leaving with the last of the workers, and it was only natural for Napoleon to have assumed that to be true.
Napoleon had merely sighed in response, just grateful that Illya was going to recover. Until then, it was going to be a long wait in Medical—a wait that Napoleon fully intended to spend by Illya’s bedside.
And Illya wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2016-04-18 06:33 pm (UTC)