When Plans Don't Go To Plan - Part Eight

[avrovulcan.livejournal.com]

llya's carefully made plans don't quite go right!

Link to Part Seven: http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/222767.html

Part Eight Below The Cut.

Chapter 8: A bit overboard on the explosives.

They ran back down the tunnel, hoping they wouldn’t meet resistance on the way out. Hopefully anyone intending to come from that direction had already been caught by Mark and Penny.

They were almost near the entrance when the generator blew, the blast coming down the tunnel with such a force it knocked them off their feet and dislodged some of the heavy oak beams supporting the walls and ceiling of the tunnel.

Picking themselves up from the floor, they brushed themselves down, Napoleon glancing around to check that everyone was okay.

After examining the damage to yet another suit, he looked to Illya and noticed he was inspecting a bloody tear in his own jacket sleeve.

"You're hurt?”

"I am fine, it is nothing."

“A little overboard on the explosives don’t you think?”

Illya grinned, eyes sparkling and pointed to his friend's  damaged jacket.

“Another suit ruined, I see. You must keep those Italian tailors in business, single-handedly.”

Napoleon gave him a despairing look. “If you didn't like your big bangs so much, I wouldn’t need to keep going back to them.

“ILLYA, watch out,” Rebecca shouted rushing headlong into him, pushing him over.

There was a loud rumbling and clouds of dust and debris billowed out as one of the large oak beams, suddenly came crashing down.

He picked himself up from the floor for a second time and gazed behind him at the settling dust cloud.

“Rebecca, are you alright? Becca speak to me, where are you?”

There was no answer as he searched for her through the haze.

“Napoleon, can I have some help please?” He asked, almost in a whisper.

The quiet calmness of his partner’s voice set alarm bells ringing in Napoleon’s head, and he went quickly to where Illya was standing.

The dust had settled and they could now see Rebecca lying on her side, the huge oak beam crushing her, she was barely conscious.

They tried to move the timber from her; knowing it could aggravate her injuries to remove it, but they couldn't leave her there. It was heavy and the confined space, caused by the debris around them, made it difficult, but they finally moved it.

The Russian immediately went to her side, a tightness in his chest, fearing the worst. He sat cradling Rebecca’s head in his lap, smoothing her hair, and talking quietly to her.

Her breathing was very shallow, with a slight gurgling sound. Blood trickling from her nose and mouth stained the front of his shirt as he held her.

Lizzie made her way over to them. Kneeling down, she felt for Becca’s pulse. It was extremely weak. She could see the pain Illya was feeling reflected in his eyes and her heart went out to him.

April and Napoleon looked inquiringly to Lizzie as she got up and walked towards them, she shook her head slightly; tears welling up in her eyes.

Napoleon knelt down next to his friend, putting his hand on the Russian's shoulder offering his support, while April and Lizzie comforted each other. They knew Rebecca was dying.

Suddenly, her eyes flickered open. Slowly they focused and locked onto Illya's.

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” she whispered, smiling up at him as her eyes closed once more.

Her breathing became more laboured, then finally stopped as she went limp in his arms. He held her tighter, rocking her as silent tears fell. His worst fear had happened. He’d lost her.

Comments

[jkkitty.livejournal.com]

The Russian always seem to lose what he truly loves. Lucky he has friends to see him through

[avrovulcan.livejournal.com]

Yes, he has good friends, they'll help him. Thanks for reading.