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section7mfuTitle: The Deadly Admirer Affair, Act III: Questions but No Answers
Rating: PG13
Word count: ~2000
Author: Rose of Pollux
If you prefer reading there, cross-posted to ff.net and AO3.
Illya had been keeping his eyes closed even after waking up some time later. He did a mental check now, trying to get his bearings.
What happened…? he asked himself. He winced as he moved and felt the pain flare up in his side—where he had been wounded. …I was shot…!
His breathing suddenly quickened as the memories from the night before returned, but he was soon aware of a gentle hand on his face.
“Hey,” he heard Napoleon say, softly. “It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m here.”
Napoleon’s words were punctuated by soft murowrs, and Illya relaxed, realizing that both his partner and their cat had obviously been looking after him while he slept.
Illya opened his eyes now, seeing that it was clearly daytime, but Napoleon had closed the blinds to allow Illya to sleep some more.
Illya looked up at Napoleon with a wan smile.
“After our last mission, I should have been the one looking after you,” he mumbled. “Napoleon…”
“Don’t think about that,” his partner said, gripping Illya’s hand. “I’m fine. But how are you?”
“As good as I can be for being shot at,” Illya said. He sighed. “I suppose you wish to know what happened?”
“That would be good.”
“Alas, I cannot say much,” Illya sighed. “I had just gotten the bagels and had been taking a shortcut through the alley to get to the nearest subway entrance to come back here. I admit, my mind was… elsewhere, and I was not as vigilant as I should have been. Whoever it was took me completely by surprise.”
“Do you have any description of your attacker?”
Illya shook his head.
“It happened so quickly, and the lighting in the alley was dim,” he said. “And the attacker spoke to me in a harsh whisper; the voice was well-masked.”
“The attacker spoke to you? What did they say?”
“Nothing much. Taunted me for not seeing it coming, and…” Illya trailed off, shuddering.
“Illya?” Napoleon asked, softly.
“They said they wanted me to bleed out—die a slow death.”
Napoleon swore under his breath.
“Napoleon, please… I am fine now. …I hope you did not worry too much.”
“Well, I breathed easier when you started snoring a few hours ago; that was when Baba Yaga took a catnap, too.”
“I do not snore.”
“Au contraire!”
Illya smiled in spite of himself, and then he sobered.
“I still don’t know what the attacker was after. I seem to remember Mandy saying last night that the reports were still intact.”
“They were,” Napoleon said. “Whoever it was stole a piece of my bagel. And before you ask if it was someone hungry who took it from you, they only took one piece of my bagel; they left yours and the rest of mine alone.”
“…What.” Illya’s tone of voice wasn’t even questioning; it was flat disbelief.
“We were just as puzzled, believe me.”
“It sounds as though someone shot me and then took the piece of bagel just to taunt me,” Illya muttered.
“That was my thought—sounds like the kind of thing THRUSH would do,” Napoleon said. “April and Mark have been out looking for clues; hopefully, they’ll be able to find something so we can find out which feathered fiend did it.”
Illya sighed.
“And how long am I to be stuck here in this purgatory of Medical?”
Napoleon grinned; if Illya was complaining about being in Medical, then he was most definitely on the mend.
“Can’t help you there—though I’ll do my best to convince the staff that you’ll be best recuperating at home. Maybe I’ll tell them that I’ll rest, too, if they let you go home… We can malinger together.”
“I thought you said you were fine,” Illya said, suddenly concerned.
“I am,” Napoleon assured him, now pulling a cart with a covered tray beside Illya’s bed. “It was Mr. Waverly who thinks I need to rest. Personally, I’ve never felt better. And I bet you’ll feel much better if you get something to eat. You want lunch?”
“Don’t you mean breakfast?”
“No, I mean lunch,” Napoleon said, showing Illya his watch.
Illya’s eyes widened.
“I slept in until two in the afternoon!?”
“Well, you did just spend half the night getting shot at and then going under the knife,” Napoleon reminded him.
Illya grumbled and complained under his breath some more, and it was music to Napoleon’s ears as he uncovered the tray of food.
The sight of the food did slightly improve Illya’s mood, and he began to eat, pausing as Baba Yaga meowed and started staring at his tray very intently.
“…I think she wants you to share,” Napoleon mused.
Illya shook his head in amusement, but caved in and gave Baba Yaga part of his filet of sole, which she happily accepted.
“She has me wrapped around her paw, and she knows it,” he sighed.
“You’re just a great dad to her.”
“So are you.”
“Yes, but you’re the one who spoils her,” Napoleon teased.
Their conversation was soon halted by a knock on the recovery ward door. Napoleon momentarily panicked as Illya indicated Baba Yaga; Napoleon quickly scooped up the cat in his suitjacket to hide her from view, who protested as she dropped her piece of fish because of the sudden movement.
“Come in!” he called. “Oh, it’s you guys?”
He put Baba Yaga back down to reclaim the fish as April and Mark entered, followed by Mandy and George. Illya greeted them.
“How are you feeling?” April asked.
“Much better,” the Russian assured her. “Now, perhaps, you can tell me something about my attacker?”
“Sorry, Chum,” Mark said, sympathetically. “Whoever it is knows a lot about how to cover one’s tracks. There wasn’t a shred of evidence at the site or on either the papers or the bagels.”
“They must have worn gloves and shoe covers,” April said. “There were no footprints, either.”
“After they checked the reports and the envelope for fingerprints, I went over them and even had two people from the cryptology department go over them in English and Portuguese,” Mandy said, shaking her head. “There were no codes or any sort of hidden messages in those reports.”
“And I haven’t had a chance to test the bagels yet,” George said. “Someone’s already using the lab’s analysis equipment; I have to wait until they’re done. But the fingerprint check came up empty, and all the preliminary tests show that, so far, the bagels are just regular, ordinary, edible bagels without any adulteration or secrets.”
“And Illya didn’t get a good look at his attacker, either. Great; so we’ve all hit nothing but dead ends,” Napoleon sighed.
There were a couple of sheepish apologies all around him, and Napoleon managed a wan smile.
“It’s alright,” he said. “You’re all doing your best, and I appreciate it. Whoever did this knew what they were doing to avoid being identified. But we’re still going to find out who did it.”
“Anything in particular you want us to do now?” April asked.
“See if you can pick up any news on THRUSH sightings in the New York area,” Napoleon said. “If you and Mark can get a list of names, maybe we can deduce which of our suspects is most likely to have done this. …But, ah, get some rest if you need it; I know you two have been out there searching since early this morning.”
“It’s for Illya; we don’t mind,” Mark insisted.
“We want this creep captured too, Napoleon,” April agreed. “But we’ll be sure to pace ourselves.”
“Okay,” Napoleon said, with a grateful nod. “Mandy, I know you said cryptology went over those reports--”
“You want me to go over them one more time?” she asked.
“If it’s not too much trouble—compare them to the previous set of reports and see if there’s anything different. And George, as soon as that lab equipment is available, see if there is anything amiss with that bagel.”
“Right.”
“And what I said to Mark and April goes for you, too—you’ve both been busy since early this morning, too, so take as much rest as you need.”
“And we want to find out who did this, too,” Mandy said.
“So if there’s any small way we can help, we want to,” George added.
“Thank you,” Illya said, quietly. “All of you.”
The others insisted they were glad to do it, and Napoleon just smiled at him.
“See, Tovarisch, it isn’t just you and me against the world; we’ve got a whole team on our side—the very best there is!” He winked and gently touched Illya’s cheek. “If you’re feeling up to resting by yourself, I’d like to get out there and shake a few trees myself.”
“What do you have in mind?” Mark asked.
“I have it on reliable authority that Victor Marton has been setting up a new THRUSH front in Newark,” Napoleon said. “Perhaps I can cash in on his former partnership with Mr. Waverly to get some information on who was in Manhattan early this morning—or who would have enough of an axe to grind to go all the way to Manhattan just to confront Illya.”
“Good luck,” April said. “We’ll let you know over Channel D if we find anything important.”
“That goes for us, too,” George said.
Napoleon and Illya both thanked them as they headed back out, and Illya turned his attention back to his lunch.
“So…” Illya said, as he ate. “What happens if you meet with Marton, and he does not wish to divulge any information? You know how difficult he likes to be.”
“I normally don’t like to involve my Special in an argument, but I have found that it can be quite persuasive; if it means finding out who did this to you, I’ll gladly resort to that, even on Marton himself.”
Illya paused, hearing the underlying anger in his partner’s voice—a rare occurrence, and, therefore, significant.
“Napoleon…” he said, softly.
“Sleeping darts,” Napoleon promised. He paused. “Unless you’d prefer that I stay with you.”
Napoleon glanced back at him, and Illya stared into his partner’s eyes. Of course, Illya wanted him to stay; Napoleon’s presence was always the biggest comfort whenever he was shacked up in Medical. Yet he could also see the burning desire in Napoleon’s eyes to bring whoever did this to justice.
“Go on,” Illya encouraged him.
“Are you really sure? Just say the word, and I’ll stay right here.”
Illya smiled at him.
“Da, I am sure, Napoleon. I’m still rather tired; perhaps if I sleep some more, I can convince the staff to let me rest at home.” He paused. “Are the stories about our last mission still circulating?”
“…I haven’t really been around the building since you were brought in here, but I assume—and hope—that your latest misfortune has pushed those aside for now,” Napoleon said. “Look, ah… As soon as I’m back from Newark, I’ll pull rank for a bit and convince them to let you go home.”
“I would appreciate that very much.”
“I thought so,” Napoleon mused. He felt a sudden twist in his gut, as though his sixth sense was telling him that he should do that sooner rather than later. “Actually, you know what? Why don’t I do that now—drop you off at home and then go to Newark?”
“While I would appreciate that very much, as well, would it not make more sense to try to pick up a trail before it goes cold?”
Napoleon blinked.
“I guess you’ve got a point there…” he said. He smiled as Illya put the empty food tray back on the cart, and Napoleon obligingly tucked him in as he laid back down on the bed. “I’ll see you later.” He gave Baba Yaga another scratch behind the ears as she curled up again next to Illya’s wounded side and resumed purring. “And I’ll see you later, too.”
“Good luck,” Illya offered, as he closed his eyes.
“Thanks; hopefully, I’ll return with some good news.” He paused on his way out, looking back at his partner, who was resting while absently petting the cat. Once again, Napoleon pushed aside the nagging feeling that he should take Illya home now, bid him goodbye, and headed out of the recovery ward.
There was work to do.
Rating: PG13
Word count: ~2000
Author: Rose of Pollux
If you prefer reading there, cross-posted to ff.net and AO3.
Illya had been keeping his eyes closed even after waking up some time later. He did a mental check now, trying to get his bearings.
What happened…? he asked himself. He winced as he moved and felt the pain flare up in his side—where he had been wounded. …I was shot…!
His breathing suddenly quickened as the memories from the night before returned, but he was soon aware of a gentle hand on his face.
“Hey,” he heard Napoleon say, softly. “It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m here.”
Napoleon’s words were punctuated by soft murowrs, and Illya relaxed, realizing that both his partner and their cat had obviously been looking after him while he slept.
Illya opened his eyes now, seeing that it was clearly daytime, but Napoleon had closed the blinds to allow Illya to sleep some more.
Illya looked up at Napoleon with a wan smile.
“After our last mission, I should have been the one looking after you,” he mumbled. “Napoleon…”
“Don’t think about that,” his partner said, gripping Illya’s hand. “I’m fine. But how are you?”
“As good as I can be for being shot at,” Illya said. He sighed. “I suppose you wish to know what happened?”
“That would be good.”
“Alas, I cannot say much,” Illya sighed. “I had just gotten the bagels and had been taking a shortcut through the alley to get to the nearest subway entrance to come back here. I admit, my mind was… elsewhere, and I was not as vigilant as I should have been. Whoever it was took me completely by surprise.”
“Do you have any description of your attacker?”
Illya shook his head.
“It happened so quickly, and the lighting in the alley was dim,” he said. “And the attacker spoke to me in a harsh whisper; the voice was well-masked.”
“The attacker spoke to you? What did they say?”
“Nothing much. Taunted me for not seeing it coming, and…” Illya trailed off, shuddering.
“Illya?” Napoleon asked, softly.
“They said they wanted me to bleed out—die a slow death.”
Napoleon swore under his breath.
“Napoleon, please… I am fine now. …I hope you did not worry too much.”
“Well, I breathed easier when you started snoring a few hours ago; that was when Baba Yaga took a catnap, too.”
“I do not snore.”
“Au contraire!”
Illya smiled in spite of himself, and then he sobered.
“I still don’t know what the attacker was after. I seem to remember Mandy saying last night that the reports were still intact.”
“They were,” Napoleon said. “Whoever it was stole a piece of my bagel. And before you ask if it was someone hungry who took it from you, they only took one piece of my bagel; they left yours and the rest of mine alone.”
“…What.” Illya’s tone of voice wasn’t even questioning; it was flat disbelief.
“We were just as puzzled, believe me.”
“It sounds as though someone shot me and then took the piece of bagel just to taunt me,” Illya muttered.
“That was my thought—sounds like the kind of thing THRUSH would do,” Napoleon said. “April and Mark have been out looking for clues; hopefully, they’ll be able to find something so we can find out which feathered fiend did it.”
Illya sighed.
“And how long am I to be stuck here in this purgatory of Medical?”
Napoleon grinned; if Illya was complaining about being in Medical, then he was most definitely on the mend.
“Can’t help you there—though I’ll do my best to convince the staff that you’ll be best recuperating at home. Maybe I’ll tell them that I’ll rest, too, if they let you go home… We can malinger together.”
“I thought you said you were fine,” Illya said, suddenly concerned.
“I am,” Napoleon assured him, now pulling a cart with a covered tray beside Illya’s bed. “It was Mr. Waverly who thinks I need to rest. Personally, I’ve never felt better. And I bet you’ll feel much better if you get something to eat. You want lunch?”
“Don’t you mean breakfast?”
“No, I mean lunch,” Napoleon said, showing Illya his watch.
Illya’s eyes widened.
“I slept in until two in the afternoon!?”
“Well, you did just spend half the night getting shot at and then going under the knife,” Napoleon reminded him.
Illya grumbled and complained under his breath some more, and it was music to Napoleon’s ears as he uncovered the tray of food.
The sight of the food did slightly improve Illya’s mood, and he began to eat, pausing as Baba Yaga meowed and started staring at his tray very intently.
“…I think she wants you to share,” Napoleon mused.
Illya shook his head in amusement, but caved in and gave Baba Yaga part of his filet of sole, which she happily accepted.
“She has me wrapped around her paw, and she knows it,” he sighed.
“You’re just a great dad to her.”
“So are you.”
“Yes, but you’re the one who spoils her,” Napoleon teased.
Their conversation was soon halted by a knock on the recovery ward door. Napoleon momentarily panicked as Illya indicated Baba Yaga; Napoleon quickly scooped up the cat in his suitjacket to hide her from view, who protested as she dropped her piece of fish because of the sudden movement.
“Come in!” he called. “Oh, it’s you guys?”
He put Baba Yaga back down to reclaim the fish as April and Mark entered, followed by Mandy and George. Illya greeted them.
“How are you feeling?” April asked.
“Much better,” the Russian assured her. “Now, perhaps, you can tell me something about my attacker?”
“Sorry, Chum,” Mark said, sympathetically. “Whoever it is knows a lot about how to cover one’s tracks. There wasn’t a shred of evidence at the site or on either the papers or the bagels.”
“They must have worn gloves and shoe covers,” April said. “There were no footprints, either.”
“After they checked the reports and the envelope for fingerprints, I went over them and even had two people from the cryptology department go over them in English and Portuguese,” Mandy said, shaking her head. “There were no codes or any sort of hidden messages in those reports.”
“And I haven’t had a chance to test the bagels yet,” George said. “Someone’s already using the lab’s analysis equipment; I have to wait until they’re done. But the fingerprint check came up empty, and all the preliminary tests show that, so far, the bagels are just regular, ordinary, edible bagels without any adulteration or secrets.”
“And Illya didn’t get a good look at his attacker, either. Great; so we’ve all hit nothing but dead ends,” Napoleon sighed.
There were a couple of sheepish apologies all around him, and Napoleon managed a wan smile.
“It’s alright,” he said. “You’re all doing your best, and I appreciate it. Whoever did this knew what they were doing to avoid being identified. But we’re still going to find out who did it.”
“Anything in particular you want us to do now?” April asked.
“See if you can pick up any news on THRUSH sightings in the New York area,” Napoleon said. “If you and Mark can get a list of names, maybe we can deduce which of our suspects is most likely to have done this. …But, ah, get some rest if you need it; I know you two have been out there searching since early this morning.”
“It’s for Illya; we don’t mind,” Mark insisted.
“We want this creep captured too, Napoleon,” April agreed. “But we’ll be sure to pace ourselves.”
“Okay,” Napoleon said, with a grateful nod. “Mandy, I know you said cryptology went over those reports--”
“You want me to go over them one more time?” she asked.
“If it’s not too much trouble—compare them to the previous set of reports and see if there’s anything different. And George, as soon as that lab equipment is available, see if there is anything amiss with that bagel.”
“Right.”
“And what I said to Mark and April goes for you, too—you’ve both been busy since early this morning, too, so take as much rest as you need.”
“And we want to find out who did this, too,” Mandy said.
“So if there’s any small way we can help, we want to,” George added.
“Thank you,” Illya said, quietly. “All of you.”
The others insisted they were glad to do it, and Napoleon just smiled at him.
“See, Tovarisch, it isn’t just you and me against the world; we’ve got a whole team on our side—the very best there is!” He winked and gently touched Illya’s cheek. “If you’re feeling up to resting by yourself, I’d like to get out there and shake a few trees myself.”
“What do you have in mind?” Mark asked.
“I have it on reliable authority that Victor Marton has been setting up a new THRUSH front in Newark,” Napoleon said. “Perhaps I can cash in on his former partnership with Mr. Waverly to get some information on who was in Manhattan early this morning—or who would have enough of an axe to grind to go all the way to Manhattan just to confront Illya.”
“Good luck,” April said. “We’ll let you know over Channel D if we find anything important.”
“That goes for us, too,” George said.
Napoleon and Illya both thanked them as they headed back out, and Illya turned his attention back to his lunch.
“So…” Illya said, as he ate. “What happens if you meet with Marton, and he does not wish to divulge any information? You know how difficult he likes to be.”
“I normally don’t like to involve my Special in an argument, but I have found that it can be quite persuasive; if it means finding out who did this to you, I’ll gladly resort to that, even on Marton himself.”
Illya paused, hearing the underlying anger in his partner’s voice—a rare occurrence, and, therefore, significant.
“Napoleon…” he said, softly.
“Sleeping darts,” Napoleon promised. He paused. “Unless you’d prefer that I stay with you.”
Napoleon glanced back at him, and Illya stared into his partner’s eyes. Of course, Illya wanted him to stay; Napoleon’s presence was always the biggest comfort whenever he was shacked up in Medical. Yet he could also see the burning desire in Napoleon’s eyes to bring whoever did this to justice.
“Go on,” Illya encouraged him.
“Are you really sure? Just say the word, and I’ll stay right here.”
Illya smiled at him.
“Da, I am sure, Napoleon. I’m still rather tired; perhaps if I sleep some more, I can convince the staff to let me rest at home.” He paused. “Are the stories about our last mission still circulating?”
“…I haven’t really been around the building since you were brought in here, but I assume—and hope—that your latest misfortune has pushed those aside for now,” Napoleon said. “Look, ah… As soon as I’m back from Newark, I’ll pull rank for a bit and convince them to let you go home.”
“I would appreciate that very much.”
“I thought so,” Napoleon mused. He felt a sudden twist in his gut, as though his sixth sense was telling him that he should do that sooner rather than later. “Actually, you know what? Why don’t I do that now—drop you off at home and then go to Newark?”
“While I would appreciate that very much, as well, would it not make more sense to try to pick up a trail before it goes cold?”
Napoleon blinked.
“I guess you’ve got a point there…” he said. He smiled as Illya put the empty food tray back on the cart, and Napoleon obligingly tucked him in as he laid back down on the bed. “I’ll see you later.” He gave Baba Yaga another scratch behind the ears as she curled up again next to Illya’s wounded side and resumed purring. “And I’ll see you later, too.”
“Good luck,” Illya offered, as he closed his eyes.
“Thanks; hopefully, I’ll return with some good news.” He paused on his way out, looking back at his partner, who was resting while absently petting the cat. Once again, Napoleon pushed aside the nagging feeling that he should take Illya home now, bid him goodbye, and headed out of the recovery ward.
There was work to do.
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Date: 2017-02-09 10:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-02-10 09:47 pm (UTC)