Suited Up, Part 2 - PicFic 10/7

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Part 1

:~~~~~:~~~~~:

As Illya lay in Medical beneath the watchful eyes of the nurses, Napoleon headed for the gym for a quick workout, something to help ease the tension and give him time to think.  Afterwards a  shower and change of clothes.  The suit, the one he had tried to protect, was now ruined. Between Illya throwing up on it and the grime from the ladder on that ominous tower... he no longer cared.  The suit had been the catalyst for Illya’s exposure to the virus.

“The damned suit saved you, Solo.”  With the water pummeling his body with jets of hot, spikey shards, he pressed his hands against the glass door and was tempted to bang his head into it as some type of self-imposed punishment.  Napoleon chastised himself for the self-loathing.  How could he catch the villains responsible for trying to kill his partner if he was busy trying to do himself in?

When he was dressed and had resumed his CEA demeanor, Napoleon headed for the meeting being held in the Chief’s office.  He joined three other men seated at the round conference table: Alexander Waverly; Dr. McGinnis, and Dr. Simpson* from Section VIII.

“Gentlemen, how serious is this virus to which Mr. Kuryakin has been exposed?”  Waverly had received a preliminary report but he wanted to hear it now from his top Lab man and the attending physician. Dr. Simpson cleared his throat before committing to the news he had to share.

“Mr. Waverly, doctor... Mr. Solo... ‘ he sighed before continuing.

“This is a very nasty thing that has caught Mr. Kuryakin.  As I wrote in my report, the lifespan of this viral entity is very short, it must enter a host within a few seconds, perhaps ten at the most.”  Napoleon shut his eyes, seeing again the puff of smoke and Illya collapsing almost immediately from its effect.

“How does it work so quickly.  Illya barely had time to breathe it in before he was down; it acted almost like a super-charged sleep dart.”  He was confused, concerned and mad at something he couldn’t lay his hands on.

“Mr. Solo, that is exactly the way it works, like a sleep dart.  It has some of the same components combined with this deadly virus.  The victim has no time to step away or create any distance between himself and the substance.”

Waverly tapped his pipe absentmindedly, the reassurance of its presence registering subliminally as he considered the horrendous possibilities of what Simpson was describing.

“Mr. Solo, were there any other samples of this .. um... ‘ He looked at Simpson questioningly.

“How exactly is this categorized, doctor?  Is it a germ or a drug?  Or both?”

“I suppose it is a combination of both, although the most dominant characteristic is its viral nature.  It is a form of germ warfare, and if it loosed upon a population of any size at all the consequences would be devastating in a matter of days.”

Waverly looked again at his top agent, the implication now clear in his demeanor.  It would be up to Napoleon to find the source and put an end to this threat and those who were causing the threat it represented.

“Mr. Solo, gather together your team and do whatever you must to track down the lab where this ... this weapon is being produced.  And hurry man, we have no time to lose.”

Napoleon stood, acknowledging the men at the table as he acknowledged the task ahead.

“Yes sir, I have already been strategizing for this eventuality.  I’ll submit the names of my team to you and the proposed agenda for getting this taken care of.”  Waverly nodded, his stern expression unyielding as he listened to Solo.

“Very good.  And, Mr. Solo...’ Napoleon leaned in slightly at that.

“Be careful, all of you.  We do not want anyone else exposed to this virus.  That is all.”

“Yes sir, we will be ... very careful.  Sir, I would like to check in on Mr. Kuryakin before ...”  Waverly was nodding his head.

“Yes, of course.”  Dr. McGinnis rose from his chair and reached over to place his hand on Solo’s arm.

“Let me go with you, Napoleon.  I’d like to discuss a few things with you concerning Illya’s condition.”  That made the agent slightly apprehensive, but he welcomed the opportunity to know everything about his partner’s situation.  Waverly waived them both off and settled in for the rest of Dr. Simpson’s thoughts on developing an antidote to the virus to help combat its effects on anyone else who might be exposed.  The labs were also working on a vaccine; both of these efforts were based on blood samples from the stricken Russian.

As Dr. McGinnis and Napoleon walked away from Waverly’s office, heading for Medical, the doctor began to describe to the young man next to him the probabilities of some type of permanent damage to Illya’s system.  It was encouraging, he stated, that Illya had survived the exposure at all; his ability to fight off the worst of it was a good sign that he would eventually pull through.

“So, what are you telling me doctor?  Is Illya going to have some health issues related to this?  Will he be able to come back into the field as a Section II?”  Napoleon was a little confused by the conversation, and suspected that there was more to come.

“Napoleon... ‘ the pause was made more dramatic by the surroundings; the starkness of the corridors and the constant hum of the building’s undercurrent of activities.

“The virus created a very high fever, and one of the after effects is a swelling of the brain, similar to encephalitis.  We’re working on bringing down the fever, and the swelling.”  Napoleon stopped in mid-stride, turning to face McGinnis.

“What are you trying to tell me Paul?  I know a little bit about encephalitis, the loss of memory and confused state of mind that can occur.  That’s just temporary though, isn’t it?”  Paul McGinnis took a deep breath.  Lord, he hated having to deliver bad news to these agents, especially when it concerned their partners.

“Napoleon, the nature of this virus is something we’re unfamiliar with, and the characteristics of what we’re calling encephalitis may or may not be more acute than what we normally encounter.”  He was hedging, didn’t want to have to say what he feared was the case at hand.

Napoleon was getting the impression that Illya’s condition could still get worse, that he wasn’t out of danger just yet.

“Is Illya going to be permanently affected by this virus?”  The doctor shifted his stance, trying to find the words that would be direct and yet compassionate.  The emotional bond between partners was at once affirming and, at times, disarming.  When one of them was down the effectiveness of the one remaining was often impaired as well.

“There may be some permanent damage.  The frontal lobe is currently pressing against his skull, and the possibility of damage to that area... We just don’t know at this point, but if the swelling continues without abatement... I'm sorry Napoleon, but damage to that part of the brain will most probably result in Illya having to be removed from the field, possibly even retired completely from the Command.”

A lump the size of a grapefruit welled up inside of Napoleon’s throat.  His mind reeled with recollections of what he knew of the frontal lobe, the devastation to a person’s memory and even personality if it were damaged.

“Damage to the frontal lobe can cause increased irritability, loss of memory and often an inability to make decisions effectively.  Should Illya’s ability to anticipate and act when faced with a situation in the field... well, he wouldn’t be safe.  You, Napoleon, wouldn’t be safe with him.”

Napoleon almost laughed at the prospect of Illya becoming more irritable, something that quickly passed as he considered what it would mean for the Russian to be unable to make a decision or calculate appropriate actions for his survival.

“And you think this might actually be the case?  When will you know for sure?”  McGinnis shrugged his shoulders, a most unhelpful gesture in Napoleon’s estimation.

“It’s a matter of waiting it out, continuing to try and reduce the fever and the swelling.  He’s heavily sedated right now because the intensity of the pressure would create a nearly unbearable headache.  We will continue to scan and monitor... We’re doing everything we know to do, Napoleon.”

The top agent in Waverly’s human arsenal nodded, his handsome face was tense with worry and his own mission now fueled by an even more adamant need to find the rest of this vile substance and destroy it... and the people responsible for it.

The two men silently resumed their walk towards the Medical unit, one contemplating a course of action for his patient, the other a course of revenge for the sake of his friend and partner.

Conclusion

*Dr. Simpson is the head of the Lab as written by David McDaniel, author of the most popular ACE MFU novels.

Comments

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

We must remain as optimistic as Napoleon and always expect a good outcome ;) Thanks, the prompt made a nice visual reference for Solo's anguish.