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section7mfu2013-02-15 10:48 pm
avrovulcan.livejournal.com) wrote in section7mfu2013-02-15 10:48 pm
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When Plans Don't Go To Plan - Part Eleven (A)
I'm having to post in two parts due to length.
llya's carefully made plans don't quite go right!
Link to Part Ten: http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/235739.html
First Section Of Part Eleven Below The Cut.
Chapter 11:
The return to London went far slower than Illya wanted it to, he was just too impatient to get back to Rebecca. Not knowing if she was alive or not, tore at his heart; he never knew he could feel as deeply about someone as this and wasn't sure how to handle the strong emotions running through him.
Once they arrived in London HQ, they immediately made their way to Medical. On entering the waiting room, they saw Lizzie and Penny sat together; the worry and concern showing on their faces.
"Any news on Becca?" Illya asked, the anguish evident in his voice.
"She's still in the operating theatre," Penny replied quietly.
"Blimey, that's over four hours now," Mark exclaimed.
"Erm, we had an update about half an hour ago." Lizzie started nervously, glancing towards Napoleon for support, not sure how much to tell the Russian about Becca's condition, Solo put his arm around her offering his strength and comfort. "It's taking so long because she's so weak."
Taking the Russian's hands in hers, she took a few deep breaths to steady herself, and blinking back the tears that threatened to fall, continued.
"Illya, her heart's stopped three times. It was harder to restart after the last time, they don't think she'll have the strength to survive if it fails again. The doctor said it'll be at least another hour before they're finished, if nothing else happens, and that was half an hour ago."
Illya hung his head at this news, feeling like someone had just ripped his own heart out. He had finally found someone he wanted to share his life with; now it looked like she would be taken away from him.
Napoleon sat by his side, placing a hand on the Russians arm.
"Tovarisch, she's strong, I really think she'll come through this."
"I hope you are right, Napoleon," he replied, "I hope you are right."
"I know I am, I'm the optimist, and just maybe some of the ‘Solo luck’ has rubbed off on her."
This brought a slight smile to Illya's lips.
"Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen."
Harry Beldon walked into the room. Dressed flamboyantly in a long dress coat, garishly patterned waistcoat and fur hat, his presence filled the room.
He had just returned to HQ from a meeting and went directly to Medical for an update on Rebecca's condition. He had grown quite fond of the agent during her time at London and had been disappointed to lose her to New York.
"I understand Miss Andrews is still undergoing surgery. I also know that you four....," he looked towards Napoleon, Illya, April and Mark, "... have not yet made yourselves available for your required post assignment checkups. Please do so now."
He looked at his watch and glanced at each agent as they sat there unmoving, blatantly defying him.
"You have exactly two minutes to follow my orders or I will be calling security to escort you all there, kicking and screaming if they have to. Am I understood?"
"Sir, we have not been on assignment, and, apart from Illya, we are uninjured, I do not see why we need checkups."
Napoleon knew he was speaking out of order, but he was so tired and wound up with worry, that right now, he didn't care.
"As I know you are stressed, tired and very concerned for your friend, I will overlook that outburst Mr. Solo. But I will not accept a refusal to obey a direct order."
"Mr. Beldon, we're fine and haven't been exposed to anything. Please, can we be let off this time?" Mark asked, spurred by Solo's stubbornness.
In response Harry pulled his communicator from a pocket with a flourish.
"Security, please."
"Security, Saunders here sir."
"I want Jones and Roberts to report to Medical now, we have a situation here that needs dealing with."
"They will be there shortly."
"Err, we'll go, please call the guard dogs off, sir," Napoleon relented.
Beldon smiled to himself, "It seems the issue has been resolved, you can tell them to stand down Saunders."
"Yes, Sir. Saunders out."
"Good, I knew you would see it my way, eventually."
Satisfied that they would do as they were told, he left. He was more than ready to change into comfortable clothing and make full use of his personal steam room in his office.
Napoleon watched as April and Mark made their way to an examination room and then turned to his partner who hadn't moved.
"Illya, you too," He said sternly.
"I am fine, you dealt with the wounds, they are fine," the Russian groused.
"It isn't a request, it's an order. Go. Now."
"I hate it when you pull rank."
"Being CEA does have its privileges," Solo grinned.
"From what I understand you are under orders also, are you not?"
"Yes, I guess so."
"In that case, I will go only if you do."
Napoleon sighed, "I doubt we will get away without going anyway, he's probably sat in his office watching us on the security cameras."
"Yes, Mr Solo, you're quite correct, do I need to contact security again?" Beldon's voice crackled over a speaker.
"Come on, partner. Let's get this over with."
Napoleon followed the grumbling Russian down the corridor to an examination room, ensuring that his injury was checked over; knowing that Illya, like most Section 2 agents, hated going to medical, and the CEA included himself on that list.
The first bullet wound was just a graze, and the second had passed through; exactly as the Russian had said.
They were properly cleaned with new bandages applied and grudgingly, Illya admitted they felt better. After his treatments were completed, he and Napoleon made their way back to the waiting room, hoping there would soon be news on Rebecca's condition.
"What's the time? I'm beat," April yawned.
"Nearly one, and the boss wants to see us." Mark replied, trying not to let his own fatigue show.
"Don't they ever go home?" April complained.
"Not that I know of," Solo grinned.
The journey to the chiefs office took them along several corridors and up three levels in the elevator. The final corridor leading to Beldon's office contained hidden security monitors which scanned for unauthorised weapons and for the correct level of clearance on anyone approaching.
Within ten minutes they were standing in his sumptuous office. Harry, dressed in a luxurious dressing gown, reclined in his chaise longue, glass of expensive brandy in one hand.
"I know you're concerned about Miss Andrews and want to stay nearby so I've assigned you guest accommodation here, I hope you don’t mind sharing, as you know, our facilities are limited."
"No, not at all, thank you. I think I can speak for everyone in that we'll just be glad of a bed," Napoleon replied.
"The commissary is closed now, so there is no hot food, I'm afraid; but there should be some sandwiches and such in the kitchen, please help yourself and get some rest."
"Thank you, sir," April said gratefully.
"If you do not mind, I would like to return to Medical?" Illya asked.
"Mr. Kuryakin, I know what you're like, but you'll do as you are told and get some rest, you're exhausted. Anyway, Miss. Andrews will be unconscious for a long time when she returns from surgery. "
"Yes, sir," he agreed reluctantly.
They retired to their allocated rooms after first finding something to eat.
Napoleon and Lizzie found a room for themselves, April and Penny stayed together in another, while Mark and Illya shared the remaining guest quarters.
The Russian flopped down on a bed and stared up at the ceiling; thinking about the events of the day, unable to rid himself of the memory of holding Becca as her heart stopped beating while she lay him his arms.
He was still lying there on his back several minutes later, when there was a knock on the door.
Mark, seeing Illya not moving, got up to answer it and let Napoleon in.
Solo looked to his friend, as he lay there lost in his thoughts, and sat down on the bed next to him.
"Have you eaten?"
"No, I am not hungry." Illya replied as he continued to stare at the ceiling.
"That's not like you, you really are out of sorts, but you need to eat something, my friend. Here, try this." Solo offered him some of the food brought back from the kitchen.
"I said I am not hungry."
“Tovarisch, I know you're hurting, but you’ll be no good for Rebecca if you make yourself ill by not looking after yourself.”
Illya sighed. “I know, Napoleon. It is the uncertainty. She has not even come out of surgery yet, even at our worst, we have not been this long.”
“We’ll go see her first thing in the morning. The medical staff will be busy looking after her when she comes out from surgery and you'd only get in the way. By the morning things should be calmer.”
“I suppose you are right. I will eat something. Good night Napoleon.”
“Good night.” He stood up and made his way to the door, saying good night to Mark on the way.
“Napoleon?” Illya called quietly, turning onto his side and facing Solo.
The American turned back, his hand on the door handle. “Yes?”
“Thank you.”
"For what?"
"Being there for me, as always."
“You are most welcome. Eat and then get some sleep,” he replied shutting the door behind him.
Illya ate the offered food and realised how hungry he’d been. When finished, he lay back down in bed, bid good night to Mark, and was asleep within seconds.
Mark shook his head, the Russian was the only person he knew that could nod off instantly.
It was 8:00 a.m. when Illya woke finding Mark was still fast off. He showered, shaved and dressed quietly so as to not wake the sleeping Brit.
Feeling somewhat refreshed, Illya left the room; heeding Napoleons comment from the night before, he made his way to the commissary, grabbing something to eat before heading to Medical.
As he approached, the doctor called him over. “Mr. Kuryakin?”
“Hello Doctor, how is Rebecca?”
“She's in a critical but stable condition at the moment. She's in a coma and on a ventilator. Her ribs were broken in several places, one puncturing her lung, as you know."
Illya nodded, a lump in his throat preventing him from speaking, and allowing the doctor to continue.
"We've done our best to stabilise her ribs and realign them. They will heal, but it's going to take some time. I'm sorry, but I don't know if she will recover and to be honest, with what she's been through, I've no idea how she's survived so far. “
"She is stubborn and strong willed, maybe that has something to do with it," Illya replied. 'the Solo luck has hopefully had a hand in it too,' he thought, and wished it were true, so it would continue for her.
"Obstinance seems to be a trait most of you section two's have,” the doctor said as he lead Illya down the hall. “This is Miss Andrews’ room. I must warn you that it may be distressing to see all the life support equipment around her.”
“Thank you for the warning, Doctor. I have seen it on my partner several times and it has been used on me on occasion as well. I will be fine.”
The doctor shook his head and opened the door, leaving the Russian and returning to his office.
Illya stepped inside and froze. Although he knew what to expect, it still came as a shock to see all the tubes, pipes and machinery around his Rebecca, the sight made his heart ache.
She was almost a pale as the sheets she was lying on; IV drips running into her arms, a proper chest drain had replaced the temporary one, a feeding tube running into her stomach, the ventilator making a steady rhythmic ‘whoosh’ and monitors measuring her heart rate, blood pressure and other vitals.
He slowly walked over, taking her hand in his, he held it and gently kissed her on the forehead.
“Hello zavetnyy. I am here now.” he whispered, before settling in the chair next to her bed.
Illya was watching the monitors around her and trying to make some sense of the information they were displaying.
The Russian thought of all the times he had stayed in a room like this waiting for Napoleon to come round; though, more often than not, it was the other way round, and for the last year and a half Rebecca had been there as well.
He, too, had sat vigil for Rebecca after she returned from assignments with injuries, though it had never been as bad as this, and this time it wasn’t even in the line of duty, but while on a holiday.
There was a knock on the door and his fellow agents appeared.
“How is she Illya?” April came over and gave him a kiss on his cheek.
“Not good, she is in a coma. The doctor does not know if she has the strength to recover.”
“Tovarisch, you know Rebecca, if anyone can survive, she will. ”Napoleon replied.
Putting his hand on his friend's shoulder, he tried to believe in his own words for Illya’s sake, but after talking with Lizzie and seeing Becca lying there with all the tubes and machines, he knew it was going to be difficult to be optimistic this time.
Link to Part B: http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/239905.html
llya's carefully made plans don't quite go right!
Link to Part Ten: http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/235739.html
First Section Of Part Eleven Below The Cut.
Chapter 11:
The return to London went far slower than Illya wanted it to, he was just too impatient to get back to Rebecca. Not knowing if she was alive or not, tore at his heart; he never knew he could feel as deeply about someone as this and wasn't sure how to handle the strong emotions running through him.
Once they arrived in London HQ, they immediately made their way to Medical. On entering the waiting room, they saw Lizzie and Penny sat together; the worry and concern showing on their faces.
"Any news on Becca?" Illya asked, the anguish evident in his voice.
"She's still in the operating theatre," Penny replied quietly.
"Blimey, that's over four hours now," Mark exclaimed.
"Erm, we had an update about half an hour ago." Lizzie started nervously, glancing towards Napoleon for support, not sure how much to tell the Russian about Becca's condition, Solo put his arm around her offering his strength and comfort. "It's taking so long because she's so weak."
Taking the Russian's hands in hers, she took a few deep breaths to steady herself, and blinking back the tears that threatened to fall, continued.
"Illya, her heart's stopped three times. It was harder to restart after the last time, they don't think she'll have the strength to survive if it fails again. The doctor said it'll be at least another hour before they're finished, if nothing else happens, and that was half an hour ago."
Illya hung his head at this news, feeling like someone had just ripped his own heart out. He had finally found someone he wanted to share his life with; now it looked like she would be taken away from him.
Napoleon sat by his side, placing a hand on the Russians arm.
"Tovarisch, she's strong, I really think she'll come through this."
"I hope you are right, Napoleon," he replied, "I hope you are right."
"I know I am, I'm the optimist, and just maybe some of the ‘Solo luck’ has rubbed off on her."
This brought a slight smile to Illya's lips.
"Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen."
Harry Beldon walked into the room. Dressed flamboyantly in a long dress coat, garishly patterned waistcoat and fur hat, his presence filled the room.
He had just returned to HQ from a meeting and went directly to Medical for an update on Rebecca's condition. He had grown quite fond of the agent during her time at London and had been disappointed to lose her to New York.
"I understand Miss Andrews is still undergoing surgery. I also know that you four....," he looked towards Napoleon, Illya, April and Mark, "... have not yet made yourselves available for your required post assignment checkups. Please do so now."
He looked at his watch and glanced at each agent as they sat there unmoving, blatantly defying him.
"You have exactly two minutes to follow my orders or I will be calling security to escort you all there, kicking and screaming if they have to. Am I understood?"
"Sir, we have not been on assignment, and, apart from Illya, we are uninjured, I do not see why we need checkups."
Napoleon knew he was speaking out of order, but he was so tired and wound up with worry, that right now, he didn't care.
"As I know you are stressed, tired and very concerned for your friend, I will overlook that outburst Mr. Solo. But I will not accept a refusal to obey a direct order."
"Mr. Beldon, we're fine and haven't been exposed to anything. Please, can we be let off this time?" Mark asked, spurred by Solo's stubbornness.
In response Harry pulled his communicator from a pocket with a flourish.
"Security, please."
"Security, Saunders here sir."
"I want Jones and Roberts to report to Medical now, we have a situation here that needs dealing with."
"They will be there shortly."
"Err, we'll go, please call the guard dogs off, sir," Napoleon relented.
Beldon smiled to himself, "It seems the issue has been resolved, you can tell them to stand down Saunders."
"Yes, Sir. Saunders out."
"Good, I knew you would see it my way, eventually."
Satisfied that they would do as they were told, he left. He was more than ready to change into comfortable clothing and make full use of his personal steam room in his office.
Napoleon watched as April and Mark made their way to an examination room and then turned to his partner who hadn't moved.
"Illya, you too," He said sternly.
"I am fine, you dealt with the wounds, they are fine," the Russian groused.
"It isn't a request, it's an order. Go. Now."
"I hate it when you pull rank."
"Being CEA does have its privileges," Solo grinned.
"From what I understand you are under orders also, are you not?"
"Yes, I guess so."
"In that case, I will go only if you do."
Napoleon sighed, "I doubt we will get away without going anyway, he's probably sat in his office watching us on the security cameras."
"Yes, Mr Solo, you're quite correct, do I need to contact security again?" Beldon's voice crackled over a speaker.
"Come on, partner. Let's get this over with."
Napoleon followed the grumbling Russian down the corridor to an examination room, ensuring that his injury was checked over; knowing that Illya, like most Section 2 agents, hated going to medical, and the CEA included himself on that list.
The first bullet wound was just a graze, and the second had passed through; exactly as the Russian had said.
They were properly cleaned with new bandages applied and grudgingly, Illya admitted they felt better. After his treatments were completed, he and Napoleon made their way back to the waiting room, hoping there would soon be news on Rebecca's condition.
"What's the time? I'm beat," April yawned.
"Nearly one, and the boss wants to see us." Mark replied, trying not to let his own fatigue show.
"Don't they ever go home?" April complained.
"Not that I know of," Solo grinned.
The journey to the chiefs office took them along several corridors and up three levels in the elevator. The final corridor leading to Beldon's office contained hidden security monitors which scanned for unauthorised weapons and for the correct level of clearance on anyone approaching.
Within ten minutes they were standing in his sumptuous office. Harry, dressed in a luxurious dressing gown, reclined in his chaise longue, glass of expensive brandy in one hand.
"I know you're concerned about Miss Andrews and want to stay nearby so I've assigned you guest accommodation here, I hope you don’t mind sharing, as you know, our facilities are limited."
"No, not at all, thank you. I think I can speak for everyone in that we'll just be glad of a bed," Napoleon replied.
"The commissary is closed now, so there is no hot food, I'm afraid; but there should be some sandwiches and such in the kitchen, please help yourself and get some rest."
"Thank you, sir," April said gratefully.
"If you do not mind, I would like to return to Medical?" Illya asked.
"Mr. Kuryakin, I know what you're like, but you'll do as you are told and get some rest, you're exhausted. Anyway, Miss. Andrews will be unconscious for a long time when she returns from surgery. "
"Yes, sir," he agreed reluctantly.
They retired to their allocated rooms after first finding something to eat.
Napoleon and Lizzie found a room for themselves, April and Penny stayed together in another, while Mark and Illya shared the remaining guest quarters.
The Russian flopped down on a bed and stared up at the ceiling; thinking about the events of the day, unable to rid himself of the memory of holding Becca as her heart stopped beating while she lay him his arms.
He was still lying there on his back several minutes later, when there was a knock on the door.
Mark, seeing Illya not moving, got up to answer it and let Napoleon in.
Solo looked to his friend, as he lay there lost in his thoughts, and sat down on the bed next to him.
"Have you eaten?"
"No, I am not hungry." Illya replied as he continued to stare at the ceiling.
"That's not like you, you really are out of sorts, but you need to eat something, my friend. Here, try this." Solo offered him some of the food brought back from the kitchen.
"I said I am not hungry."
“Tovarisch, I know you're hurting, but you’ll be no good for Rebecca if you make yourself ill by not looking after yourself.”
Illya sighed. “I know, Napoleon. It is the uncertainty. She has not even come out of surgery yet, even at our worst, we have not been this long.”
“We’ll go see her first thing in the morning. The medical staff will be busy looking after her when she comes out from surgery and you'd only get in the way. By the morning things should be calmer.”
“I suppose you are right. I will eat something. Good night Napoleon.”
“Good night.” He stood up and made his way to the door, saying good night to Mark on the way.
“Napoleon?” Illya called quietly, turning onto his side and facing Solo.
The American turned back, his hand on the door handle. “Yes?”
“Thank you.”
"For what?"
"Being there for me, as always."
“You are most welcome. Eat and then get some sleep,” he replied shutting the door behind him.
Illya ate the offered food and realised how hungry he’d been. When finished, he lay back down in bed, bid good night to Mark, and was asleep within seconds.
Mark shook his head, the Russian was the only person he knew that could nod off instantly.
It was 8:00 a.m. when Illya woke finding Mark was still fast off. He showered, shaved and dressed quietly so as to not wake the sleeping Brit.
Feeling somewhat refreshed, Illya left the room; heeding Napoleons comment from the night before, he made his way to the commissary, grabbing something to eat before heading to Medical.
As he approached, the doctor called him over. “Mr. Kuryakin?”
“Hello Doctor, how is Rebecca?”
“She's in a critical but stable condition at the moment. She's in a coma and on a ventilator. Her ribs were broken in several places, one puncturing her lung, as you know."
Illya nodded, a lump in his throat preventing him from speaking, and allowing the doctor to continue.
"We've done our best to stabilise her ribs and realign them. They will heal, but it's going to take some time. I'm sorry, but I don't know if she will recover and to be honest, with what she's been through, I've no idea how she's survived so far. “
"She is stubborn and strong willed, maybe that has something to do with it," Illya replied. 'the Solo luck has hopefully had a hand in it too,' he thought, and wished it were true, so it would continue for her.
"Obstinance seems to be a trait most of you section two's have,” the doctor said as he lead Illya down the hall. “This is Miss Andrews’ room. I must warn you that it may be distressing to see all the life support equipment around her.”
“Thank you for the warning, Doctor. I have seen it on my partner several times and it has been used on me on occasion as well. I will be fine.”
The doctor shook his head and opened the door, leaving the Russian and returning to his office.
Illya stepped inside and froze. Although he knew what to expect, it still came as a shock to see all the tubes, pipes and machinery around his Rebecca, the sight made his heart ache.
She was almost a pale as the sheets she was lying on; IV drips running into her arms, a proper chest drain had replaced the temporary one, a feeding tube running into her stomach, the ventilator making a steady rhythmic ‘whoosh’ and monitors measuring her heart rate, blood pressure and other vitals.
He slowly walked over, taking her hand in his, he held it and gently kissed her on the forehead.
“Hello zavetnyy. I am here now.” he whispered, before settling in the chair next to her bed.
Illya was watching the monitors around her and trying to make some sense of the information they were displaying.
The Russian thought of all the times he had stayed in a room like this waiting for Napoleon to come round; though, more often than not, it was the other way round, and for the last year and a half Rebecca had been there as well.
He, too, had sat vigil for Rebecca after she returned from assignments with injuries, though it had never been as bad as this, and this time it wasn’t even in the line of duty, but while on a holiday.
There was a knock on the door and his fellow agents appeared.
“How is she Illya?” April came over and gave him a kiss on his cheek.
“Not good, she is in a coma. The doctor does not know if she has the strength to recover.”
“Tovarisch, you know Rebecca, if anyone can survive, she will. ”Napoleon replied.
Putting his hand on his friend's shoulder, he tried to believe in his own words for Illya’s sake, but after talking with Lizzie and seeing Becca lying there with all the tubes and machines, he knew it was going to be difficult to be optimistic this time.
Link to Part B: http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/239905.html
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