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section7mfuI'm having to post in two parts due to length.
llya's carefully made plans don't quite go right!
Link to Part Eleven (A): http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/239682.html
Second Section Of Part Eleven Below The Cut.
They had all been with Illya and Rebecca for over an hour, when the doctor came in and suggested it was time they go.
“I’ll let you know if anything changes. A bit of fresh air will do you all good.”
Illya refused to leave, he wanted to be there for when something did happen.
“We're going to follow the doctor’s advice and see what it's like to be a tourist in London, do you want anything Illya? Books, journals…… food?” April asked.
The Russian smiled at the last suggestion.
"I would like something to eat that has some flavor, as you said, Napoleon, I will be no good to Becca, if I do not look after myself.”
"Hallelujah," Napoleon whispered; glad to see his friend had found his appetite again.
“Okay, we’ll see what we can do, partner mine.”
Illya sat back in the chair holding onto her limp hand, the sudden quietness enhancing the sounds in the room; the noise of the ventilator, and the steady beeping of the heart monitor, and as he listened to their rhythm, they eventually lulled him to sleep.
Later on, the doctor came in, checking Becca's vitals, sensing someone else in the room, Illya woke instantely, shifting slightly and watching silently.
"Sorry if I disturbed you Mr. Kuryakin."
"No, you did not. How is she?"
"No change, I'm afraid; which, in a way, is good. Erm, Miss Andrews has another visitor, she just arrived."
"Oh, who?" Illya felt concerned, not knowing who else would want to visit Becca.
"It's Miss Andrews' Mother."
Illya immediately stood up, gently replacing Rebecca’s hand on the bed, and went to the door; a middle-aged woman was standing outside, and he could see the resemblance between mother and daughter quite easily.
"Mrs. Andrews? Forgive me, please come in."
"Thank you, Mr. Kuryakin, and please, call me Emily. I didn't want to just walk in on you, I knew you wouldn't know me and I didn't want to cause you any undue worry."
"Thank you, but you are just as entitled to see her, more so than I am, and call me Illya. Becca has told me about you. I believe your husband was a field agent too?"
The Russian pulled a second chair over and motioned Emily to be seated.
"Yes, he was, he died on an assignment when Becca was a teenager, I didn't want her to follow in Elijah's footsteps, but she was very stubborn, even back then."
"Yes, I have found she can be at times," he smiled before continuing, “Did you know that my name is the Russian form of the name Elijah?” He smiled at her.
"No wonder she thinks so much of you then, she idolised her Dad. She's told me much about you; you've made her very happy, and I can see you love her very much."
"Da, I do, she means a lot to me."
They sat for a while watching over Becca together, Emily holding her daughters hand, every now and then rubbing and squeezing it a little bit. Finally Emily stood, sensing it was time to leave Illya and her daughter alone.
"Look after her; Rebecca and her brother Phillip are all I have left now." She embraced the Russian briefly. "I'm glad to have finally met you."
"And I you. I promise I will look after her to the best of my abilities. And when we are back in New York, you must come visit us.” Illya replied, refusing to believe in the possibility of returning without her.
"Thank you Illya." She smiled and squeezed the Russian's hand as she left.
Later in the evening, Illya was woken again, this time by his partner.
“You really need to practice entering a room more quietly you know.” The Russian whispered.
“Well, not everyone can be as perfect as you," Solo grinned, “I’ve come bearing gifts.”
Napoleon held up several paper sacks of take away that smelled very enticing.
“The others went to get some plates and cutlery and will be here shortly. Any change in Becca’s condition?” Napoleon asked.
“No, but she is stable, so that is good. I met Rebecca's mother earlier.”
"What was she like?"
“A strong woman, and I think Becca is very much like her, that includes a very strong family resemblance. I liked her and she seemed to like me. Apparently, she's heard a lot about me."
"Oh dear." Solo grinned.
"All good I think," Illya answered, a half smile reaching his lips. "You will notice I am still standing."
"Yes, but is that because she tanned your hide and you can't sit down?"
The Russian rolled his eyes and threw him an exasperated look.
Their banter was interrupted with the arrival of the others. The Chinese takeaway containers were opened and spread out on a nearby side table, everyone doling out their own portions.
Chicken Chow Mein, and Sweet and Sour Pork, amongst others, were accompanied with sesame prawn toast, spare ribs in syrup and fried rice. The sight made Illya realize how hungry he was.
"This smells good, thank you. It is much better than the stuff the commissary calls food,” and he proceeded to tuck in along with the others.
When they had finished, they helped clean up, and saying their goodnights, retired to their rooms, leaving Illya there and working on a second helping. When his appetite was satisfied he made himself as comfortable as possible in the chair next to Rebecca’s bed.
The next few days repeated the same pattern with Illya staying by Rebecca while everyone else took the rare opportunity to explore London with Mark leading the way. Emily would call in and stay for a while and sometimes shared the takeaways the others brought throughout the day.
The Russian spent the days reading to Becca, even if it was from the science journals Napoleon had bought. Sometimes singing to her, when he thought no one would be listening, other times he just sat holding her hand or stroking her hair.
By the middle of the week, they had to think about returning back to New York on Friday, as their vacation days were just about over.
Illya had been thinking about the return a lot and had spoken about it with Emily, she had listened to him and had given her blessing to his plans, and he informed his partner of them as well.
“Napoleon, I want to take Rebecca back with us.”
Napoleon looked at him, seeing his determination.
“Have you talked this over with Dr. Parker? Won’t it be risky taking her on such a long flight in her condition?”
The Russian looked down at the floor avoiding his friends eyes.
“I have mentioned it to him; he is against it.”
“Then it’s probably safest for her to stay. She'll be cared for here just as well as if she was in New York. What about her Mother, what does she say?”
“I have discussed it with Emily, she is happy for her to return and will sign an authorization to allow it. I want her back with us, Napoleon. I cannot be there for her if we are on opposite sides of the world, and I would rather have our own doctors look after her, they know her. She will be better back with us.” The Russian was adamant.
“I don’t know, tovarisch, will she last the flight? Seven hours is a long time and she's going to need all that medical equipment travelling with her. It’s a lot to ask.”
“The jet can be converted to a medivac plane, to support her.”
Napoleon could see that he was in a losing battle, and knew that Illya wouldn’t back down.
“I’ll have to speak with The Old Man first, if he agrees to authorize the transfer, Dr. Parker will have to abide by his ruling. But Illya, Mr. Waverly will have the final word on this. If he refuses, that's the end of it. Understood?”
Reluctantly the Russian agreed.
Napoleon contacted Waverly and discussed Illya’s request with him. It took some persuading before The Old Man agreed – but with some conditions: Rebecca had to be stable enough to be moved; a doctor had to accompany them; Lizzie was to help with Rebecca’s care during the flight and Dr Parker had to check the equipment used by the plane in its medivac role was suitable for supporting Rebecca. If any one of the conditions couldn’t be met, they had to come back on their own.
"They're the conditions, Illya, if any of them can't be met, then she has to stay here."
"I understand, Rebecca’s health has to come first and I of course understand the need for caution."
They went to find Dr. Parker and discussed the transfer with him.
"I'm not happy about moving Miss Andrews, but the precautions Mr. Waverly had put in place are sensible. I'll look over the jet in the morning and will accompany you to New York myself."
"Thank you Doctor, I appreciate what you are doing for her," the Russian replied.
The following morning Dr. Parker gave his approval for the jet, as the needed medical equipment was brought out of storage at the UNCLE London airport for assessment.
"I haven’t seen a better appointed aircraft than this; it should be more than capable of supporting her." The doctor commented as he looked around the plane.
"It is the newest version and very well equipped." Illya agreed.
With the doctor satisfied with the preparations; they returned back to Medical to ready Rebecca for the move. The doctor called his staff into his office, advising them of the preparations needed.
Illya continued to spend most of the time with Rebecca, reading, singing and talking to her. On Thursday afternoon April and Napoleon stopped by and tried to get the Russian to join them for dinner in London.
“It will do you good, tovarisch, to get out into the fresh air and get a proper meal into you. Even you can’t survive on take-aways and we've arranged to meet Emily there too.”
“If you can call London air ‘fresh’. I think the air in here is probably cleaner.” He finally relented, admitting he could do with a good dinner. “I am starving. Plus I do not want Emily told any tall stories about me."
"Good, darling, I knew you'd see sense in the end." April remarked as she put her arm through Illya's, dragging him through the door alongside her.
They all spent the last evening in London together, but even after a good meal and a night of comradeship, Illya insisted upon being allowed to return to his chair in Rebecca’s room.
When he arrived back in medical, he saw she had been connected to equipment for the return flight on the jet. He was glad Napoleon had made him go out; it had done him good, and he was relieved he didn’t have to see her being transferred to the new life support system.
He gently stroked her hair and kissed her forehead before making himself as comfortable as possible in the chair, while he leaned in, holding her hand.
He whispered softly to her, hoping she heard his voice.
“I love you Rebecca, and will not let you go, I believe we have luck on our side. Sleep well moya lyubov, we are going home tomorrow.”
He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the equipment that was keeping her alive; it’s methodical rhythm again lulling him to sleep.
llya's carefully made plans don't quite go right!
Link to Part Eleven (A): http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/239682.html
Second Section Of Part Eleven Below The Cut.
They had all been with Illya and Rebecca for over an hour, when the doctor came in and suggested it was time they go.
“I’ll let you know if anything changes. A bit of fresh air will do you all good.”
Illya refused to leave, he wanted to be there for when something did happen.
“We're going to follow the doctor’s advice and see what it's like to be a tourist in London, do you want anything Illya? Books, journals…… food?” April asked.
The Russian smiled at the last suggestion.
"I would like something to eat that has some flavor, as you said, Napoleon, I will be no good to Becca, if I do not look after myself.”
"Hallelujah," Napoleon whispered; glad to see his friend had found his appetite again.
“Okay, we’ll see what we can do, partner mine.”
Illya sat back in the chair holding onto her limp hand, the sudden quietness enhancing the sounds in the room; the noise of the ventilator, and the steady beeping of the heart monitor, and as he listened to their rhythm, they eventually lulled him to sleep.
Later on, the doctor came in, checking Becca's vitals, sensing someone else in the room, Illya woke instantely, shifting slightly and watching silently.
"Sorry if I disturbed you Mr. Kuryakin."
"No, you did not. How is she?"
"No change, I'm afraid; which, in a way, is good. Erm, Miss Andrews has another visitor, she just arrived."
"Oh, who?" Illya felt concerned, not knowing who else would want to visit Becca.
"It's Miss Andrews' Mother."
Illya immediately stood up, gently replacing Rebecca’s hand on the bed, and went to the door; a middle-aged woman was standing outside, and he could see the resemblance between mother and daughter quite easily.
"Mrs. Andrews? Forgive me, please come in."
"Thank you, Mr. Kuryakin, and please, call me Emily. I didn't want to just walk in on you, I knew you wouldn't know me and I didn't want to cause you any undue worry."
"Thank you, but you are just as entitled to see her, more so than I am, and call me Illya. Becca has told me about you. I believe your husband was a field agent too?"
The Russian pulled a second chair over and motioned Emily to be seated.
"Yes, he was, he died on an assignment when Becca was a teenager, I didn't want her to follow in Elijah's footsteps, but she was very stubborn, even back then."
"Yes, I have found she can be at times," he smiled before continuing, “Did you know that my name is the Russian form of the name Elijah?” He smiled at her.
"No wonder she thinks so much of you then, she idolised her Dad. She's told me much about you; you've made her very happy, and I can see you love her very much."
"Da, I do, she means a lot to me."
They sat for a while watching over Becca together, Emily holding her daughters hand, every now and then rubbing and squeezing it a little bit. Finally Emily stood, sensing it was time to leave Illya and her daughter alone.
"Look after her; Rebecca and her brother Phillip are all I have left now." She embraced the Russian briefly. "I'm glad to have finally met you."
"And I you. I promise I will look after her to the best of my abilities. And when we are back in New York, you must come visit us.” Illya replied, refusing to believe in the possibility of returning without her.
"Thank you Illya." She smiled and squeezed the Russian's hand as she left.
Later in the evening, Illya was woken again, this time by his partner.
“You really need to practice entering a room more quietly you know.” The Russian whispered.
“Well, not everyone can be as perfect as you," Solo grinned, “I’ve come bearing gifts.”
Napoleon held up several paper sacks of take away that smelled very enticing.
“The others went to get some plates and cutlery and will be here shortly. Any change in Becca’s condition?” Napoleon asked.
“No, but she is stable, so that is good. I met Rebecca's mother earlier.”
"What was she like?"
“A strong woman, and I think Becca is very much like her, that includes a very strong family resemblance. I liked her and she seemed to like me. Apparently, she's heard a lot about me."
"Oh dear." Solo grinned.
"All good I think," Illya answered, a half smile reaching his lips. "You will notice I am still standing."
"Yes, but is that because she tanned your hide and you can't sit down?"
The Russian rolled his eyes and threw him an exasperated look.
Their banter was interrupted with the arrival of the others. The Chinese takeaway containers were opened and spread out on a nearby side table, everyone doling out their own portions.
Chicken Chow Mein, and Sweet and Sour Pork, amongst others, were accompanied with sesame prawn toast, spare ribs in syrup and fried rice. The sight made Illya realize how hungry he was.
"This smells good, thank you. It is much better than the stuff the commissary calls food,” and he proceeded to tuck in along with the others.
When they had finished, they helped clean up, and saying their goodnights, retired to their rooms, leaving Illya there and working on a second helping. When his appetite was satisfied he made himself as comfortable as possible in the chair next to Rebecca’s bed.
The next few days repeated the same pattern with Illya staying by Rebecca while everyone else took the rare opportunity to explore London with Mark leading the way. Emily would call in and stay for a while and sometimes shared the takeaways the others brought throughout the day.
The Russian spent the days reading to Becca, even if it was from the science journals Napoleon had bought. Sometimes singing to her, when he thought no one would be listening, other times he just sat holding her hand or stroking her hair.
By the middle of the week, they had to think about returning back to New York on Friday, as their vacation days were just about over.
Illya had been thinking about the return a lot and had spoken about it with Emily, she had listened to him and had given her blessing to his plans, and he informed his partner of them as well.
“Napoleon, I want to take Rebecca back with us.”
Napoleon looked at him, seeing his determination.
“Have you talked this over with Dr. Parker? Won’t it be risky taking her on such a long flight in her condition?”
The Russian looked down at the floor avoiding his friends eyes.
“I have mentioned it to him; he is against it.”
“Then it’s probably safest for her to stay. She'll be cared for here just as well as if she was in New York. What about her Mother, what does she say?”
“I have discussed it with Emily, she is happy for her to return and will sign an authorization to allow it. I want her back with us, Napoleon. I cannot be there for her if we are on opposite sides of the world, and I would rather have our own doctors look after her, they know her. She will be better back with us.” The Russian was adamant.
“I don’t know, tovarisch, will she last the flight? Seven hours is a long time and she's going to need all that medical equipment travelling with her. It’s a lot to ask.”
“The jet can be converted to a medivac plane, to support her.”
Napoleon could see that he was in a losing battle, and knew that Illya wouldn’t back down.
“I’ll have to speak with The Old Man first, if he agrees to authorize the transfer, Dr. Parker will have to abide by his ruling. But Illya, Mr. Waverly will have the final word on this. If he refuses, that's the end of it. Understood?”
Reluctantly the Russian agreed.
Napoleon contacted Waverly and discussed Illya’s request with him. It took some persuading before The Old Man agreed – but with some conditions: Rebecca had to be stable enough to be moved; a doctor had to accompany them; Lizzie was to help with Rebecca’s care during the flight and Dr Parker had to check the equipment used by the plane in its medivac role was suitable for supporting Rebecca. If any one of the conditions couldn’t be met, they had to come back on their own.
"They're the conditions, Illya, if any of them can't be met, then she has to stay here."
"I understand, Rebecca’s health has to come first and I of course understand the need for caution."
They went to find Dr. Parker and discussed the transfer with him.
"I'm not happy about moving Miss Andrews, but the precautions Mr. Waverly had put in place are sensible. I'll look over the jet in the morning and will accompany you to New York myself."
"Thank you Doctor, I appreciate what you are doing for her," the Russian replied.
The following morning Dr. Parker gave his approval for the jet, as the needed medical equipment was brought out of storage at the UNCLE London airport for assessment.
"I haven’t seen a better appointed aircraft than this; it should be more than capable of supporting her." The doctor commented as he looked around the plane.
"It is the newest version and very well equipped." Illya agreed.
With the doctor satisfied with the preparations; they returned back to Medical to ready Rebecca for the move. The doctor called his staff into his office, advising them of the preparations needed.
Illya continued to spend most of the time with Rebecca, reading, singing and talking to her. On Thursday afternoon April and Napoleon stopped by and tried to get the Russian to join them for dinner in London.
“It will do you good, tovarisch, to get out into the fresh air and get a proper meal into you. Even you can’t survive on take-aways and we've arranged to meet Emily there too.”
“If you can call London air ‘fresh’. I think the air in here is probably cleaner.” He finally relented, admitting he could do with a good dinner. “I am starving. Plus I do not want Emily told any tall stories about me."
"Good, darling, I knew you'd see sense in the end." April remarked as she put her arm through Illya's, dragging him through the door alongside her.
They all spent the last evening in London together, but even after a good meal and a night of comradeship, Illya insisted upon being allowed to return to his chair in Rebecca’s room.
When he arrived back in medical, he saw she had been connected to equipment for the return flight on the jet. He was glad Napoleon had made him go out; it had done him good, and he was relieved he didn’t have to see her being transferred to the new life support system.
He gently stroked her hair and kissed her forehead before making himself as comfortable as possible in the chair, while he leaned in, holding her hand.
He whispered softly to her, hoping she heard his voice.
“I love you Rebecca, and will not let you go, I believe we have luck on our side. Sleep well moya lyubov, we are going home tomorrow.”
He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the equipment that was keeping her alive; it’s methodical rhythm again lulling him to sleep.
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Date: 2013-02-16 07:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-16 02:16 pm (UTC)