"Escape from the End of the World"~ Part 6 ~ for PicFic Tuesday

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

                                 

Now, when do we eat?" Kuryakin asked, sitting up on the bed." I am famished, though the food given to me while in Medical was more than palitable, my hunger has not been assuaged. I am happy to say at least while hospitalized, they did not give me lime jello.”

“Really, none of the green stuff?”

“No it was lemon, which was not that bad...I must admit.”

Napoleon picked up a pitcher of water on the dresser top. He poured a glass of water and bringing it over to his partner; he pulled the bottle of meds from his pocket.

“Pill time tovarisch, and please don’t give me a hard time. They’re antibiotics, and if you don’t take them, you’ll get an infection and end up back in a hospital bed.

Kuryakin held out his hand, taking the pill with a sip of water,

“Did you really swallow it?”

“Napoleon…”

“Hey, just checking. I know you.”

“And I know you as well,” the Russian chuckled. He skooched himself up on the bed, burying his head on the pillow. “Please tell me we will not be having any female visitors?”

“You’ll be pleased to know there haven’t been any and won’t be. I’m pretty beat too you know.”

Illya didn’t answer as he was already asleep.

“So much for room service,” Napoleon smiled. He removed his tie and jacket, hanging them up on the valet and retreated to the sitting room.

Flopping down on the plush sofa; he pulled his communicator.

“Open Channel D-overseas relay. Waverly.”

“Yes Mr. Solo?”

“We’ve arrived at the hotel sir. Illya...Mr. Kuryakin is already asleep and I’m happy to report he took his medicine without incident.”

“Very well,” Waverly hesitated.” I’m sorry to say that I must move your departure date up by one day. The U.N. Security Council is meeting as we speak and is discussing the disposition of General Machado. It looks as though he will be given asylum in Cuba.  Sadly, no repercussions for his misdeeds...still we must take satisfaction in the fact that your and Mr. Kuryakin’s actions started the ball rolling for him being deposed.”

“Yes sir. So will we’ll still be returning the General to New York?”

“No, you’ll be bringing him to Cuba instead.”

Napoleon was surprised by that. “And the hand off?”

“Is to take place at Guantanamo. The Americans have obliged us by offering the use of the base. You’ll be taking a private jet to Caracas, and there switch to a different jet that will be flying with United Nations credentials, and from there in Venezuela you’ll head to Gitmo.”

“Things are a bit dicey there still, what...the missile crisis was only a year ago?”

“Precisely, and that is why you will be identified as being with the United Nations. It is deemed safer to land on the American base as the situation with Cuba’s airport is somewhat and antiquated. Given the trade U.S. embargo has been in effect for two years now, the Cubans have been forced to repair and recycle any necessary parts. It seems their Communist compatriots are slow at delivering such things.”

“Yes sir I understand. Solo out.”

Not giving the change of plans a further thought, Napoleon ordered room service, deciding to keep the meal simple but enough to satisfy the Russian’s hunger.

He had to admit, he was a little hungry himself. A nice bottle of wine Brazilian wine would do for him, nothing alcoholic for Illya, though he knew his partner wouldn’t be happy about that.

He went to a full-length mirror hung on the bathroom door, standing and gazing at his profile. Napoleon turned, patting his stomach with his hand, and pulling his shirt tight. He was too thin, though not like Illya.  He always watched his weight, and this was the first time in his life he needed to gain instead of lose.  Enough booze and desserts would take care of that.

The food arrived and after tipping the bellboy, Solo locked the door and took a quick peek under the lid of the steam tray He'd ordered Galinhada Mineira, a stew made with chicken, saffron rice and vegetables. Beneath another covered dish was dessert, Pudim de Leite Condensado...Brazilian flan, the slices sprinkled with shredded coconus a melted caramel sauce and garnished with mango. That, would definietly please the Russian's sweet tooth.

He’d asked for extra portions, knowing Illya should have something hearty and as much as he wanted, as he’d lost too much weight and needed to gain it back. Even the way Kuryakin ate, that wouldn’t happen overnight.

Napoleon hated like hell waking his partner, but figured his eating was the best thing. Illya would have the next few days to sleep to his hearts content in that comfortable bed. He was surprised the enticeing scent filling the suite hadn't awakened his sleeping partner already.

“Hey tovarisch, time to wake up. Dinner’s here.”

Illya raised his head, looking rather groggy and not himself. Normally the Russian when called would be instantly awake.

“Mmmmm,” he managed to grunt.

“You okay chum?” Though something didn’t seem right, as his partner’s face looked a little swollen.

“I am fine.”Illya slowly raised himself up from the pillow. He looked down  seeing his clothes were now a rumpled mess from sleeping in them but didn’t even remember doing that, going to sleep fully dressed. He rubbed his eyes, finding them watery and itching.

“Why don’t you go wash up. There’s a robe in the bathroom for you. Give me your clothes and I can have room service clean and press them for you.”

Illya slowly nodded.”What was that medicine you gave me?”

“Only your antibiotics, why?”

“I feel so groggy as if I have taken a sleeping pill. Something is wrong.”

Napoleon picked up the bottle from the dresser, double-checking the label. “Nope, it says...oh shit. Illya this says penicillin.”

“I am allergic…

“I know chum.” Napoleon immediately pulled his communicator, contacting Doctor Vilar.

“That’s impossible, I did not prescribe penicillin as Mr. Kuryakin’s records indicated his allergy, though he doesn’t have severe reactions to it. What are his symptoms?

“His face is swollen, his eyes are itching and tearing….Illya anything else wrong?”

“Mr. Solo his breathing, how is it?  I am concerned with tightening of the airways and throat. Any vomiting, how’s his pulse?” The doctor rattled off a list of possible reactions.

“Tovarisch, can you breathe okay? Any wheezing. You feel dizzy at all?” He took Illya’s wrist, checking his pulse.

“Napoleon, tell Doctor Vilar I will be fine. It is just a minor reaction, and nothing to worry over.”  Illya knew If he’d taken any additional doses, that wouldn’t have been the case.

Solo’s head bobbed back and forth, listening and speaking to his partner and talking to Vilar via the communicator.

“Perhaps you should bring him in,” the doctor said.

“Nyet,” Illya waved his hand.” I will be fine. Can we get an antihistamine for me to take?That is what is usually prescribed.”

Vilar upon hearing this felt reassured knowing the Russian had dealt with his allergic reactions before.

“Mr. Kuryakin, my profound apologies for the mix up with your medication. I will send someone over immediately with the antihistamine as well as the correct antibiotics.  Rest assured I will find who is responsible for this and have them dealt with.”

“Fine doctor, do what you must.”

A nurse quickly arrived arrived at the hotel, and after administering the antihistamine, she waited, checking his vitals.   He blood pressure was all right, and the puffiness in his face and eyes was improving. She listened to his heart with a stethoscope, though it was cold to the touch and made him flinch. The last thing she did was check his dressing.

“You were lucky sehhor,” she smiled.”Doctor Vilar told me that there was a new pharmacist’s assistant who mixed up the medicine bottles. Someone else was given your pills.”

“I hope they did not have a reaction as I did?”

“No, only you Senhor Kuryakin,” the pretty brunette smiled at him.”

“Umm, Nurse Sabela,” Napoleon looked at her name badge.”Might I invite to dine with us. The Galinhada Mineira, is still hot and there’s extra portions.” He flashed a charming smile to her.

“No thank you Senhor Solo, though your offer is tempting...I have been forewarned about you,” the pretty brunette smiled back at him, packing up the medical bag she’d brought with her.  Sabela said her goodbyes, and Illya saw her to the door.

He turned, shaking his head ready to chastise his partner but after raising a pointed finger, he stopped. What was the point in saying anything?

Napoleon knew what he was going to say. “Hey, I was just being polite, no strings attached. Didn’t I tell you there wouldn’t be any women? It wasn’t my fault medical sent an attractive nurse.”

Feeling much better, Illya chuckled as he walked over to the serving tray and filled his bowl with the steaming hot the stew. Sitting down at the table, he suddenly looked longingly to the bar.

“Oh no buddy boy, no vodka for you. You just averted a second medical issue, let’s not create another?” Napoleon poured a glass of fruit juice for his partner, and ladeling out a bowl of stew, he joined Illya at the table.

Sipping his wine slowly, Napoleon savored the rich flavor. It was stronger than he thought it would be but still was very satisfying.

The two men were silent while enjoying their meal, other than uttering a yummy sound now and then. Napoleon filled his empty wine glass, emptied it and filled it again and was beginning to feel warm and fuzzy, figuring what the heck.

“You know Illya I was scared out there in the jungle.”

“You were? Why?” That nonchalant question was so typical of Kuryakin.

The Russian was surprised at his partner’s candor; the man wasn’t one for sharing such personal thoughts. Normally Napoleon was confident and always optimistic even under the worst of circumstances.

Though he’d seen Napoleon drunk on occasion, it was usually under the influence of scotch, but not wine. Given his partner had a somewhat drastic weight loss; perhaps the way his body metabolised alcohol had changed?

“I was afraid you were going to die on me.”

Illya was taken aback by that statement.”But did not Dr. Bloom assure you I would live?”

He looked at up at the mural painted on the wall behind the bar, musing to himself at the apropo latin phrase, ‘in vino veritas’..though he preferred the Russian version, ‘Chto u trezvogo na ume, to u p'yanogo na yazyke_what a sober man has in his mind, the drunk one has on his tongue.’

“At the time, listening to a man who had a bag of dried up leaves and weeds wrapped in rags as his medical kit didn’t exactly fill me with a sense of confidence,” Solo answered frankly.

“Really?” Illya asked, hoping it would keep his partner talking, well that and the wine.

Napoleon shrugged.

“And what if I had died?”

“I would have been devastated.”

“And after that? After I was no more.”

“Well, life would have gone on I guess, though I wouldn’t want another partner.”

“Good,” Illya smiled,” I mean that life would go on. Though we are the best of friends, and will mourn each others passing, we still have a job to do. I would hope that is what you would do; continue to fight for the cause of peace and justice in the world.”

“So you’re happy I wouldn’t be pining away for you partner mine?”

“Yes. Life is fleeting and we have a precarious existence you and I; death comes knocking on our door and we can only outwit him so much. Still we must be prepared that In the end we will both die.  I am sure your preference like mine, is to live past retirement age to grow old and fat..”

“Amen to that tovarisch, except maybe not fat. I plan to grow old and be surrounded by gorgeous women,” Napoleon offered up his glass, and Illya his and they chinked them together.

“To another day my friend, and may we live to see it. Me getting fat and you getting laid,” Illya toasted with a grin.

“So,” Napoleon switched subjects,” Speaking of the future, we’ve had another change of plans for our assignment.”

Illya shook his head, indicating for Solo to continue as he wasn’t about to speak with a mouthful of food.

“We’re escorting the General to Cuba.”

Kuryakin swallowed hard.”Where in Cuba?”

“Guantanamo.”

Illya nodded his approval. “ We will not have to take him to New York then; the less distance we have to travel with him, the less likely we will run into trouble.”

“Hey from your mouth to God’s ears old pal…”

Link to Part 7

Comments

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

Hmmm, call me suspicious, but something tells me that the antibiotic mix-up wasn't a mistake. I could be wrong of course. Can't wait for the next bit :-)

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Hee heee heeee....sorry you'll have to wait until Thursday for the answer. Glad you're enjoying the story and thanks for commenting cuz!