section7mfu | Afterwards - Short Affair 29/08/2016 (Reply)

Unexpectedly a continuation to my response to the pic fic challenge last week, Airport Lost and Found.

Prompt word: gaunt
Prompt colour: purple
Word count: 696

The red-eye back to New York was practically empty, which Napoleon was grateful for. The hospital might have declared Illya fit enough to travel but his partner's face was still too pale and gaunt for Napoleon's liking. An extra few days of rest would have been welcome. As it was Illya had fallen asleep before the plane even took off, and he had only roused long enough to eat the unidentified meal that the smiling stewardess brought round before his eyes were closed again.

In the interests of maintaining tradition, Napoleon just sat and read his newspaper and acted like he wasn't worrying.

Things, of late, had not been going according to plan. This was the fifth assignment in a row which had ended with one or other of them hurt, and the third time it had been Illya. They were both in danger of burning out – as was evidenced by Illya's little slip at the airport. As amusing as it was with hindsight, Illya just didn't make that sort of mistake.

There was a certain amount of guilt eating away at him, he acknowledged. It was his actions that had led to Illya being held captive for two weeks. Oh, he knew it wasn't his fault – he had been faced with a choice between saving the hostages and waiting for Illya, and they both knew there was only one answer to that question. No, he wasn't to blame, he did still feel guilty. Particularly when he let his eyes drift sideways and he could see the lurid purple marks at the back of his partner's neck.

“Stop staring at me, Napoleon,” Illya said without opening his eyes.

“I wasn't,” he protested mildly.

“I can feel you looking.”

“Looking isn't the same as staring, pal,” he argued. “And you're supposed to be catching up on your sleep. We don't want you making any more pick ups for foreign powers, no do we?”

“How can I possibly sleep when you are thinking so loudly?” Illya demanded, and really that was just plain unreasonable.

He raised an eyebrow. “Something on your mind?”

Illya sighed and opened his eyes to look at him at last. “I fear I am getting careless.”

“Because of this evening?” he guessed. “The film cannister?”

“I should not have been taken by surprise,” Illya said darkly. “I should have realised what was going on before I ever opened my mouth.”

“Hindsight is always 20/20,” he pointed out. He sighed and continued in a low voice. “Look. You didn't have any way of knowing that you weren't the intended recipient. Someone makes a drop you pick it up, that's the way the game is played.”

Evidently having no intention of being mollified, Illya shook his head. “That is not the point. And this last affair – I should have been better able to avoid capture. And to escape without your assistance.” He caught Napoleon's eye. “Not that I am not grateful.”

He waved away the gratitude. “It's funny. I was just thinking that I should have been better prepared to save the hostages and make the rendezvous."

“We were not expecting hostages,” Illya pointed out.

“We weren't expecting Robert either.” His eyes shifted again to the marks on Illya's neck, and Illya rolled his eyes and pulled his shirt collar up to hide them. “Look, tovarisch. I don't think either of us are to blame for the last few weeks. And I certainly don't think you need to worry about losing your edge - “

“ - I never mentioned anything of the kind,” Illya interrupted quickly.

He smirked. “You think pretty loudly sometimes too, pal. My point is, the mission was a success, there's no real harm done, but how about when we get in I make a recommendation that we both get a few days R&R?”

Illya nodded slowly. “I think that would be a good idea.”

“I sometimes have them,” he said lightly. “What do you think you'll do with - “ He broke off. Somehow, Illya had fallen asleep again. “Well, that's just dandy,” he said to himself.