The Quiet Russian - Chapter 4 (Final part)
Aug. 6th, 2014 03:37 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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section7mfuThank you to everyone who has stuck with this story and thanks for all the positive comments.
Chapter 1 -http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/688508.html
Chapter 2 -http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/690577.html
Chapter 3 -http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/691349.html
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Napoleon span round and saw the VW van careening towards him. Thanks to his excellent reflexes he managed to dive out of the way with only inches to spare. The van crashed into a wall with the sickening sound of metal scraping against stone. Solo quickly regained his composure and ran to check on the driver of the vehicle. One look at the unfortunate man told Napoleon that he was beyond help; nobody’s neck should be at that angle. Turning back to Illya, he found him hugging himself and shaking.
“Thank you Tovarisch, you saved my life yet again.”
Illya looked his friend in the eye and tried to tell him he was more than welcome, but he couldn’t form the words. They were there in his head, but they refused to reach his mouth. His confusion was evident in his expression. He’d somehow managed to call out to Napoleon but was once again silent.
“Hey, we’ll work it out,” Napoleon soothed. “I’ll tell you this though; I am not putting myself in mortal danger every time I want to hear you say something.”
Despite feeling incredibly lost and anxious, Illya smiled at the joke. He just couldn’t understand how he was able to shout out, but it gave him hope. Having not brought his pad out with him, Illya had to resort to pointing towards HQ in order to ask if they could go back.
“In a few minutes,” Solo told him. “I’ll have to talk with the police first about this crash. Are you ok to wait a while, or do you want to head back on your own?”
Illya pointed to the ground, indicating that he would wait. His need to get back was almost as strong as his need to get out had been, but he was a professional. The police would need their witness statements, and he was perfectly capable of answering yes/no questions if need be. While his partner consulted with the police, he leant against the wall and tried to figure out how he’d managed to say anything.
Concentrating hard, Illya formed his mouth into the shape needed to say the first syllable of his name. He was shaking with the effort but he finally made a sound.
“Ee,”he said, ignoring the strange looks he got from people nearby. “Ee, ee, ee, ee.”
The Russian had never felt joy like it, and, after trying ee a few more times, he moved on to the next syllable.
“Lee, lee, lee, lee, lee. Ee lee, ee lee, ee lee ya.
By this time, some of the people who had been gawping at the crash had turned to the weird man make weird noises. He looked fairly normal but you never could tell these days.
“ILLYA!” He yelled, with a maniacal grin on his face. “Illya.”
Napoleon returned and found the Russian shouting his name at random strangers. While he was very pleased that Illya was finding his voice, he really didn’t need all the attention.
“Let’s go Chum; you’re scaring the nice people.”
“Illya,” replied the blond agent, pointing to his mouth.
“Tovarisch, it is marvellous that you’re starting to speak,” Napoleon said, as he steered his partner in the direction of HQ. “But you need to practice somewhere a little less conspicuous.”
By the time they reached Del Floria’s, Illya had progressed to being able to say his whole name, as well as Napoleon’s and Mr Waverly’s. His joy vanished though just before they stepped inside.
“What’s the matter?” Napoleon asked, suddenly concerned.
Illya carefully arranged the words in his head and slowly began to speak.
“Broke rules,” he uttered, dropping his head in shame. “Can’t leave. I left. Punished?”
“No Illya,” Napoleon assured him. “You won’t be punished. Come inside and let me explain a few things to you.”
MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU
Agent Davies was waiting in Illya’s suite when they arrived. He was rubbing the back of his neck where Illya had delivered his incapacitating blow. The Russian took a deep breath while he formulated his apology.
“Sorry . . . if I hurt you,” he said contritely. “Please forgive . . . me.”
When Davies had woken up and found Illya missing, his first thought was that he was going to get fired. Then he remembered that it was precisely what was supposed to happen. The agent immediately had his tracker located before contacting Solo. Everyone had been surprised about just how quickly Illya had been able to get out of the building. It had only taken him three and a half minutes, which had prompted Mr Waverly to initiate a comprehensive security review.
“No apology necessary Little Comrade, it is great to hear your voice again,” Agent Davies beamed as he spoke. “Just remember though, next time we spar, I’ll be looking for revenge.”
Illya smiled and shook Davies’ hand. “I look . . . forward to it.”
As they had passed through reception, Napoleon had asked Janine if she would call Mr Waverly and Dr Francis and ask them if they would come to Illya’s room. Both men arrived shortly after they did. Illya instantly became agitated, thinking he was definitely in some kind of trouble.
“Please don’t fret Mr Kuryakin,” the Old Man told him. “We actually wanted you to leave.”
This puzzled Illya. Why then did he have all the rules and security?
“We knew that, once you started to regain your sense of self, you would try to get away from here. It would be a sure sign to us that you were on the road to recovery. There is also the added bonus of your voice returning.”
“And all it took was for me to almost get run down in the street,” quipped Napoleon.
“Well if nothing else,” Dr Francis added, “We’ve discovered a new therapy technique.”
“You . . . wanted me . . . to escape?”
“Yes,” Dr Francis affirmed. You’re imprisonment and subsequent slavery made sure that you would always obey orders without question. The Illya we know, also obeys orders, but will occasionally question them or disobey them completely.”
“Not that I condone that sort of behaviour,” Mr Waverly muttered gruffly. Although, he often allowed his senior agents a little leeway, because their judgement was usually sound.
“You decided for yourself that you’d had enough,” the psychiatrist continued. “Despite the fear of punishment, you broke your conditioning and did what you felt you needed to.”
“So I’m . . . cured?”
“Not quite, but you’re well on the way and I’ll still need you attend a few therapy sessions. Illya, you haven’t mentioned any nightmares. Have you been having any?”
Napoleon winced at the question. He knew that the Russian was plagued by nightmares, and had been since childhood. Somehow though, he managed to not let them get to him too much. He had long ago learned a way to manage and dismiss his night terrors, even use them to his advantage sometimes.
“Some,” Illya admitted. “But they are . . . nothing compared to the . . . ones I usually have.”
“Usually?” Dr Francis asked, making a mental note to dig deeper during Illya’s next few consultations.
“Illya’s family were killed by the Nazis,” Napoleon explained. “He was raised in a Soviet state run orphanage.”
Dr Francis didn’t need to be told any more. The atrocities of those years were well known to most of the world. If the man had come through all that, it was amazing he was as sane as he was.
“I’m going home,” Illya suddenly announced, loudly and clearly. His tone told the other men in the room that he would brook no argument.
“I personally would prefer you to stay a while longer,” Dr Francis stated. “But I understand if you would rather not. Just promise me, that if you find yourself unable to cope with the outside world, you will tell one of us.”
MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU
Illya had to wait a few more hours before he could go. As a gift to his friend, Napoleon and a couple of the housekeeping staff went to the Russian’s apartment to give it a bit of an airing. No-one had been there for a while and it felt a little damp and musty. Not that Solo did any actual cleaning; he was just there to make sure no-one looked into anything they shouldn’t.
While he waited, the Russian looked into the background of the man who had been killed in the van. He wanted to check that there was no connection to any of their enemies. It turned out he was simply a man who had taken something highly illegal before deciding to go out for a drive. It had been miraculous that no-one else was hurt.
Finally, after being away for several months, Illya Kuryakin stepped back into his apartment. He’d never been happier to see his little sanctuary.
“There’s food in the fridge, vodka in the freezer and coffee in the pot,” Napoleon told him. “I was thinking we could maybe get a some celebratory chinese food delivered, unless you want to be left to your own devices.”
“I would love chinese food,” Illya agreed. “As long as I can order it.”
Napoleon couldn’t help but smile. “Why do I get the feeling you’re going to be a lot more talkative in the future?”
The End
Chapter 1 -http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/688508.html
Chapter 2 -http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/690577.html
Chapter 3 -http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/691349.html
MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU
Napoleon span round and saw the VW van careening towards him. Thanks to his excellent reflexes he managed to dive out of the way with only inches to spare. The van crashed into a wall with the sickening sound of metal scraping against stone. Solo quickly regained his composure and ran to check on the driver of the vehicle. One look at the unfortunate man told Napoleon that he was beyond help; nobody’s neck should be at that angle. Turning back to Illya, he found him hugging himself and shaking.
“Thank you Tovarisch, you saved my life yet again.”
Illya looked his friend in the eye and tried to tell him he was more than welcome, but he couldn’t form the words. They were there in his head, but they refused to reach his mouth. His confusion was evident in his expression. He’d somehow managed to call out to Napoleon but was once again silent.
“Hey, we’ll work it out,” Napoleon soothed. “I’ll tell you this though; I am not putting myself in mortal danger every time I want to hear you say something.”
Despite feeling incredibly lost and anxious, Illya smiled at the joke. He just couldn’t understand how he was able to shout out, but it gave him hope. Having not brought his pad out with him, Illya had to resort to pointing towards HQ in order to ask if they could go back.
“In a few minutes,” Solo told him. “I’ll have to talk with the police first about this crash. Are you ok to wait a while, or do you want to head back on your own?”
Illya pointed to the ground, indicating that he would wait. His need to get back was almost as strong as his need to get out had been, but he was a professional. The police would need their witness statements, and he was perfectly capable of answering yes/no questions if need be. While his partner consulted with the police, he leant against the wall and tried to figure out how he’d managed to say anything.
Concentrating hard, Illya formed his mouth into the shape needed to say the first syllable of his name. He was shaking with the effort but he finally made a sound.
“Ee,”he said, ignoring the strange looks he got from people nearby. “Ee, ee, ee, ee.”
The Russian had never felt joy like it, and, after trying ee a few more times, he moved on to the next syllable.
“Lee, lee, lee, lee, lee. Ee lee, ee lee, ee lee ya.
By this time, some of the people who had been gawping at the crash had turned to the weird man make weird noises. He looked fairly normal but you never could tell these days.
“ILLYA!” He yelled, with a maniacal grin on his face. “Illya.”
Napoleon returned and found the Russian shouting his name at random strangers. While he was very pleased that Illya was finding his voice, he really didn’t need all the attention.
“Let’s go Chum; you’re scaring the nice people.”
“Illya,” replied the blond agent, pointing to his mouth.
“Tovarisch, it is marvellous that you’re starting to speak,” Napoleon said, as he steered his partner in the direction of HQ. “But you need to practice somewhere a little less conspicuous.”
By the time they reached Del Floria’s, Illya had progressed to being able to say his whole name, as well as Napoleon’s and Mr Waverly’s. His joy vanished though just before they stepped inside.
“What’s the matter?” Napoleon asked, suddenly concerned.
Illya carefully arranged the words in his head and slowly began to speak.
“Broke rules,” he uttered, dropping his head in shame. “Can’t leave. I left. Punished?”
“No Illya,” Napoleon assured him. “You won’t be punished. Come inside and let me explain a few things to you.”
MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU
Agent Davies was waiting in Illya’s suite when they arrived. He was rubbing the back of his neck where Illya had delivered his incapacitating blow. The Russian took a deep breath while he formulated his apology.
“Sorry . . . if I hurt you,” he said contritely. “Please forgive . . . me.”
When Davies had woken up and found Illya missing, his first thought was that he was going to get fired. Then he remembered that it was precisely what was supposed to happen. The agent immediately had his tracker located before contacting Solo. Everyone had been surprised about just how quickly Illya had been able to get out of the building. It had only taken him three and a half minutes, which had prompted Mr Waverly to initiate a comprehensive security review.
“No apology necessary Little Comrade, it is great to hear your voice again,” Agent Davies beamed as he spoke. “Just remember though, next time we spar, I’ll be looking for revenge.”
Illya smiled and shook Davies’ hand. “I look . . . forward to it.”
As they had passed through reception, Napoleon had asked Janine if she would call Mr Waverly and Dr Francis and ask them if they would come to Illya’s room. Both men arrived shortly after they did. Illya instantly became agitated, thinking he was definitely in some kind of trouble.
“Please don’t fret Mr Kuryakin,” the Old Man told him. “We actually wanted you to leave.”
This puzzled Illya. Why then did he have all the rules and security?
“We knew that, once you started to regain your sense of self, you would try to get away from here. It would be a sure sign to us that you were on the road to recovery. There is also the added bonus of your voice returning.”
“And all it took was for me to almost get run down in the street,” quipped Napoleon.
“Well if nothing else,” Dr Francis added, “We’ve discovered a new therapy technique.”
“You . . . wanted me . . . to escape?”
“Yes,” Dr Francis affirmed. You’re imprisonment and subsequent slavery made sure that you would always obey orders without question. The Illya we know, also obeys orders, but will occasionally question them or disobey them completely.”
“Not that I condone that sort of behaviour,” Mr Waverly muttered gruffly. Although, he often allowed his senior agents a little leeway, because their judgement was usually sound.
“You decided for yourself that you’d had enough,” the psychiatrist continued. “Despite the fear of punishment, you broke your conditioning and did what you felt you needed to.”
“So I’m . . . cured?”
“Not quite, but you’re well on the way and I’ll still need you attend a few therapy sessions. Illya, you haven’t mentioned any nightmares. Have you been having any?”
Napoleon winced at the question. He knew that the Russian was plagued by nightmares, and had been since childhood. Somehow though, he managed to not let them get to him too much. He had long ago learned a way to manage and dismiss his night terrors, even use them to his advantage sometimes.
“Some,” Illya admitted. “But they are . . . nothing compared to the . . . ones I usually have.”
“Usually?” Dr Francis asked, making a mental note to dig deeper during Illya’s next few consultations.
“Illya’s family were killed by the Nazis,” Napoleon explained. “He was raised in a Soviet state run orphanage.”
Dr Francis didn’t need to be told any more. The atrocities of those years were well known to most of the world. If the man had come through all that, it was amazing he was as sane as he was.
“I’m going home,” Illya suddenly announced, loudly and clearly. His tone told the other men in the room that he would brook no argument.
“I personally would prefer you to stay a while longer,” Dr Francis stated. “But I understand if you would rather not. Just promise me, that if you find yourself unable to cope with the outside world, you will tell one of us.”
MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU
Illya had to wait a few more hours before he could go. As a gift to his friend, Napoleon and a couple of the housekeeping staff went to the Russian’s apartment to give it a bit of an airing. No-one had been there for a while and it felt a little damp and musty. Not that Solo did any actual cleaning; he was just there to make sure no-one looked into anything they shouldn’t.
While he waited, the Russian looked into the background of the man who had been killed in the van. He wanted to check that there was no connection to any of their enemies. It turned out he was simply a man who had taken something highly illegal before deciding to go out for a drive. It had been miraculous that no-one else was hurt.
Finally, after being away for several months, Illya Kuryakin stepped back into his apartment. He’d never been happier to see his little sanctuary.
“There’s food in the fridge, vodka in the freezer and coffee in the pot,” Napoleon told him. “I was thinking we could maybe get a some celebratory chinese food delivered, unless you want to be left to your own devices.”
“I would love chinese food,” Illya agreed. “As long as I can order it.”
Napoleon couldn’t help but smile. “Why do I get the feeling you’re going to be a lot more talkative in the future?”
The End
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no subject
Date: 2014-08-06 03:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-06 05:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-06 04:10 pm (UTC)Isn't it amazing how a story you thought would be but 2 chapters, grew and grew. May you have many more such stories.
no subject
Date: 2014-08-06 05:32 pm (UTC)To be honest, there's probably a lot more that I could have put in it, but I like to keep my stories tight. I generally don't say this, but I'm quite proud of this one.
no subject
Date: 2014-08-06 05:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-06 05:33 pm (UTC)I'm going to have to get a notebook to remind myself of elements which could be used elsewhere. I definitely want Agent Davies to show up again.
no subject
Date: 2014-08-06 05:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-06 06:21 pm (UTC)The bit about Illya managing his nightmares was great. And good for him for remembering to check the van driver. That it wan't a hopeful Thrush was unexpected to me, in a good way.
no subject
Date: 2014-08-06 06:28 pm (UTC)I was tempted to make him a Thrush, but I figured the guys had enough to deal with.
no subject
Date: 2014-08-06 10:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-06 10:34 pm (UTC)