"The Oubliette part 3"~ for the PicFic Tuesday Challenge 3/11

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Split into part 3 & 4 because the file was too large...sigh.



                                   

Napoleon was nearly cross-eyed as he sat in the chair next to his partner's hospital bed. The steady beat of the heart monitor had an almost hypnotic effect, though the American agent fought against the pulsating sound to keep from falling asleep. He needed to be awake just in case Illya needed him.

The medical staff told him it was unnecessary, as Washington D.C. headquarters was as well equipped as New York's medical facilites and the Russian was receiving excellent care.

Illya wasn't awake to appreciate that fact, or perhaps it was better he wasn't awake yet as the man and hospitals didn't exactly get along.

Napoleon wasn't fond of hospital stays himself, but he made do by flirting with the nursing staff. Not Illya though. If he were awake, there'd be yelling, cursing in Russian and assorted other languages. Food trays and anything else within arm's length might be hurled as Illya's impatience would get the better of him. Though there was a 50/50 chance he'd be calm instead, one never knew with the wiley Soviet.

That was the only time Kuryakin ever lost his cool, otherwise the nick name given him when he first arrived at UNCLE...and that was the Ice Prince, always seemed fitting enough.

New York Medical was accustomed to Illya's cantankerous ways, but down here Napoleon hoped there'd be no antagonizing the help. That was something Illya was quite good at, among his many other talents to irritate people.

Solo rubbed his face with one hand taking a sip from his now cold cup of coffee that he finally put down in disgust.

A nurse stuck her head through the door, smiling at him.

"Sugar, I wish ya'll would just go to bed for a bit. He's in good hands, and we'll call when he wakes up."

Solo looked at his friend, seeing so many tubes attached to him...one for fluids, another for antibiotics, and a morphine drip. The physicians wanted to insert a feeding tube, but Napoleon fought them on that one. Illya would have no trouble eating once he came to; right now the most important thing was that the Russian was resting peacefully.

He had seen his partner delirious and half-starved before but to have been deprived of any viable source of sunlight and fresh air for so long had taken it's toll on the Russian as well. Illya's normally placid face was paler than usual, more gaunt with the weight loss and those dark circles around his eyes made him look almost skeletal; every once in a while Kuryakin would grimace, as though he were in pain or perhaps having a bad dream.

He suddenly gasped, calling out in Russian. His arms began to flail as if he were tyring to keep something away from himself.

"Neyeet ! Poluchit' ot menya! Ostanovit' kusat'sya mne, pozhaluysta_get away from me! Stop biting me please! Krysy! Derzhite ikh podal'she ot menya . Derzhite ikh podal'she . Oni yedyat mne Papa! Papa, gde ty?

All the bells and whistles began to go off as Illya became more agitated, prompting the nurse to act; she pulled a syringe, preparing to inject a sedative.

Napoleon understood now. His partner was dreaming he was being attacked by rats, and was calling out for his father."

Solo leaned forward, whispering in Russian."It's all right. I'm here and you're safe. Focus on my voice...you're safe and I'm watching over you."

Illya slowly relaxed, with his sleep being calm once again. The heart monitor settled as back to a normal sinus rhythm.

"I don't think that'll be necessary. He's all right now. It was just a bad dream." Napoleon breathed a sigh of relief.

"Ya'll understood what he was saying?"

"Yes, he was talking about being attacked by rats….which you know from the bites on his body he had a nasty run-in with them." That was all the American would say about what had happened to his partner, the rest was really none of her business.

She nodded, recapping the needle and returning it to her pocket. She checked Illya's vitals and found them all within normal parameters.

"Well that was pretty amazing,"she said. "Are you sure though I can't convince you to go get some sleep. You'll be no good to him if you can't stand on your own two feet."

"No Charlotte, Mr. Kuryakin and I have a mutual pact and that's to be at each other's side when one of us wakes. I'm not going to break with tradition just because I'm tired and as you saw, it helped that I was here to calm him. I tell you what you can do for me, and that's get me a fresh cup of hot coffee...black please. That is if you don't mind. I know that's not your job, but I'd really appreciate it."

"How could I refuse such a gallant gentleman. Would you like a slice of hot apple pie to go with that? We just brought some upstairs from the commissary."

Napoleon flashed her a genuine smile of gratitude, one that would make any woman's heart melt. He sighed deeply, "That would be great, thank you."

"I'll be right back with everything," Charlotte returned his smile with one of her own.

Minutes later the nurse returned with a tray, setting it on the bed table beside Napoleon.

"Sure you don't want to lay down after you eat?"

He chuckled at her hovering over him. "I'll be fine, thanks."

Napoleon took a long sip of his coffee. "Nothing like the odor of coffee to stimulate the senses, and intermingled with that of the apple pie made him suddenly feel downright relaxed.

Just as he put a forkful of pie to his mouth, a familiar voice spoke up.

"Is that apple pie I smell?"

"Sure is chum, want some?"

"Yes please?" Illya's voice was tiny, almost child-like.

"Just give me a sec buddy. Let's prop you up." Napoleon helped his partner slowly sit up, tucking extra pillows behind his back."

He offered a small mouthful of the pie, feeding Illya as if he was a toddler, sitting there with his mouth open like a little bird and watched as his partner rolled his eyes, savoring the flavor.

"Mmm, good."

"Can you handle more? This might be a bit heavy for your stomach...I wouldn't want you to lose it," Napoleon gently spoke.

"Da, bol'she, pozhaluysta_yes, more please?"

Before long the apple pie was gone for the most part; Napoleon reserving the crust for himself as he figured it might be too coarse for Illya to handle.

"How's that pie Sugar?" The nurse said as she walked in the room; spying Napoleon feeding it to the patient.

"Oh Lord, I don't know if that's such a good idea. Mr. Kuryakin's stomach may not be able to handle that."

"Mr. Kuryakin has cast iron stomach and will be judge of that,"Illya announced, his accent unusually heavy. "How do you do, my name is Illya."

"And welcome back Illya. I'm your nurse, Charlotte Beauford. I'll let your doctor know you're awake." She quickly checked his pulse, his pupilary responses."How do you feel?"

"Tired but very hungry. May I have something, and please no jello I beg you...and something more than broth perhaps?"

"Yeah but no Ratatouille," Napoleon snickered.

She looked at him like he had two heads. "We don't serve anything called that here."

Illya tried smiling, getting his partner's joke, though he said nothing.

"That Mr. Kuryakin, I'll have to check with your doctor. Now Napoleon I'll have to ask ya'll to let the patient rest...and ya'll need to get some yourself as your work here is done for now. We have an empty bed down the hall and I suggest it best to take advantage of it now that your partner has awakened?"

"Yes Ma'am," Solo saluted her. "Just give me a few minutes with Illya before you evict me."

"Fine, but only a few minutes for both your sakes." She silently spun around on her heel, heading out in search of the physician on duty.

Napoleon leaned forward, scooching his chair closer as he rested his elbows on his thighs, clasping his hands together.

"You feel up to talking."

"Yes but first may I have a drink of water? My mouth feels as though an army has marched through it."

"Sure pal," the American poured a glass of water from the pitcher, offering it to see if Illya could handle it himself.

He took it, though his hand was a little shaky, and downed the water in several gulps. "Spacibo my friend."

"More?"

"No that will suffice for now."

"Okay, can you tell me what happened? Mr. Waverly is anxious to find out."

"He is aware that it was Labé?"

"Yes and would you believe after he dumped you and then me into that oubliette, Labé had the nerve to try and ransom us in return for his former art collection. Of course the Old Man refused."

"But of course,"Illya broke a shy smile, coughing slightly."Apparently he is unaware of the Command's policy of not paying ransoms, as we agents are considered expendible. And even if Waverly agreed, you and I were as good as dead men, Mr. Mephisto- Labé would have never surrendered us."

"No, I got that chum. It was all about revenge from the get go. You know we're going to have to look over our shoulders for this one until he's taken care of...permanently."

Kuryakin shrugged, coughing harder this time. "What else is new?"

"True, true. So tell me what happened...how did he get you?"

Illya's eyes glazed over, giving Napoleon the impression his partner didn't want to talk about it.

"It was rookie mistake," Kuryakin admitted. "I was returning on foot to our headquarters in Washington when I was stopped by an old woman who asked me to help get her cat out of a tree. How could I refuse her?"

"Seriously, you stopped to rescue a cat Illya?" Napoleon was being rather sarcastic, but then given his aversion to cats, that wasn't surprising.

"No…(cough) I was helping an old lady in distress. When I attmepted to climb the tree to get the cat, I was darted. That was the last thing I recalled until I woke up in the oubliette. Labé called to me, telling me where I was and that I was going to die there as payment for refusing to give him the information he wanted," Illya took a deep breath, coughing more heavily this time. "Napoleon it became oppressive there."

"I know chum, and I was there only a short time."

"At first I tried to reach the entrance, but that was of course impossible. I explored the tunnels, keeping track of which way I turned so as to be able to get back to the light. There was plenty of water, and after what I guess was a week...I was forced to start catching rats with my bare hands."

"You told me you'd eaten rat when you were a child…" *

"Yes but those were cooked over a campfire. It was as if this time I had become an animal myself...it was awful. I became an wild thing in the darkness." Illya became visibly upset; starting to cough again.

Napoleon tried slapping him on the back as the cough and accompanying congestion seemed worse.

At that moment Dr. Westerman walked into the room.

"Ah Mr. Kuryakin, glad you are awake." He walked over to the bed, immediately examining Illya's throat and glands, and listened to his breathing with a stethoscope.

"Well I have good news and bad news, which do you want first?"

Both Illya and his partner flashed him dirty looks.

"Hmm, I forgot how you New York agents can be… well your test results are back. You have a severe bacterial infection in your lungs...yes pneumonia. You're very much underweight and have the normal complications associated with malnutriton and dehytration. You are also quite anemic. The bites on your hands and legs were also severely infected but luckily there was no sign of rabies or plague. Very very lucky on your part."

"And the good news is…" Napoleon interrupted.

"The good news is Mr. Kuryakin will live," Dr. Westerman smiled, thinking he was being jovial but his lighthearted attempt at humor fell flat as the agents again scowled at him.

"When many I leave here Doctor?" Illya asked.

Dr. Westerman was not surprised at that question. "Sooner than you think Mr. Kuryakin. We've started you on a course of broad spectrum antibiotics, as well as B12 shots, and iron supplements, so once you begin to show signs of improvement we'll be shipping you to the UNCLE sanitarium in upstate New York to complete your rehabilitation. As I said, you're very underweight and suffering from malnutrition, and those conditions need to be addressed as well. You've suffered a physical and emotional trauma and simply need time to recover your health."

"But…"

"No arguments. This has been cleared with Mr. Waverly and to use his exact words, "Mr. Kuryakin is not to be permitted to coax, cajole, wheedle or threaten his way out of his recuperation under any circumstances. And Mr. Solo is not to try to sneak his partner out of Medical."

"That settles that," Napoleon grinned, trying to cover his embarrassment at being indirectly called out by his boss.

"No one asked for your two rubles worth," Illya snapped at him.

"Hey you have my sympathies chum, trust me. Now if you'll forgive me, a bed is calling my name and I need to get some shuteye. Glad you're back among us," Solo winked before exiting the hospital room, leaving the physician to continue his examination.

* ref "Beginnings"

Parts 5 and 6 ( hopefully the conclusion) will be posted as part of next Tuesday's Picfic response.

Comments

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

OMG! Angst-humor,angst-humor. How am I to read this when I am crying and laughing at the same time? Ratatouille? You are so bad... And if you think the beeping of a single heart monitor is hypnotic, try sitting at a desk and monitoring 20 of them at once! Great addition to the series! Now on to the next one...

[svetlanacat4.livejournal.com]

Ratatouille... Oh, dear...
Love the ""Is that apple pie I smell?"... so Illya...