"Bozhe moi, spacibo"
He was spiraling out of control, holding on desperately to the stick as the helicopter plummeted, there were screams...children, Elliott. A crash. But wait, they weren't there in the chopper with him? The children? The children..."
Illya Kuryakin weakly opened his eyes, he had been dreaming again, but it was so real. Then he looked at his surroundings; he was in a hospital bed, but not in medical. This place was unfamiliar.
His head hurt...no pounded and every muscle in his body ached. He looked down, seeing his arm in a cast, then suddenly realized he couldn't move his head, he then reached up, exploring with his free hand and touching what felt like a neck brace.
He exhaled deeply, thankful that he had survived the helicopter crash. Everything seemed as though he were in a fog. It was raining. He could see the drops of water sliding down the large window to the left of his bed. It was raining, yes it was raining that day. Then an overwhelming sense of panic filled him.
"Elliott?" he cried out with desperation in his voice.
A blond-haired nurse rushed into his room.
"Mr. Kuryakin, you need to settle down. Everything will be alright, " she assured him, gently patting his shoulder with her hand.
"Where am I and where are my wife and children...where are they?" His voice showed signs of agitation. And where is Napoleon, why is he not here? He is always at my bedside when I wake up."
"We've gone over this before sir, you're in Coney Island Hospital and I told you Mr. Kuryakin, umm...your family, they're okay. Remember you were in a car accident?" She tried speaking positively and soothingly to calm his fears.
"No, you are lying. Now where is my family? I want to see them," he insisted, trying to lift the covers to get out of bed.
"I've told you before, you cannot get out of bed," she said, pulling the blanket from his hand and covering him with it again. "Mr. Kuryakin, your wife and son were released, and they've been here to see you. Your daughter is still hospitalized, understand? And Mr. Solo has been with you, he just stepped out for a few minutes.
"Nyet, there was no car accident...it was a helicopter crash and they were not there. Why are you lying to me...where is my family?" Who are you? He grabbed the nurses wrist, holding onto her. Why will you not tell me where they are?"
Now he was becoming completely distraught.
"Mr. Kuryakin, we have gone over this before," the nurse gently insisted.
"Will you stop repeating my name...I know who I am!"
"You and your family were in a car accident. You all were brought by ambulance to Coney Island Hospital, and you've been here for three days. Your wife and son were released yesterday and your daughter is in ICU. You sustained a broken arm, head and neck trauma and had abdominal surgery. You are having difficulty remembering the details. You need to calm down now."
"I will not calm down...I want my family!" His voice was going up in pitch and was beginning to crack.
"Now if you don't let go of my wrist, I'll scream for an orderly and he'll put you in restraints and I'll have to sedate you. Is that what you want?"
He let go of her, but did not believe her story for one minute.
The nurse rubbed her wrist then turned to leave, passing the handsome dark haired man who was coming into the room. She remembered he'd been at the patients bedside all night long until he came to. "He's at it again Mr. Solo," she whispered.
"Tovarisch, you're awake." The American smiled at his partner.
"Napoleon, please you have to help me. I need to find out where my family is, they will not tell me the truth." His voice was filled with desperation.
"You need to calm down buddy and compose yourself. Look, you've suffered a quite lump on that stubborn Russian head of yours and you're having trouble remembering, not to mention a neck and back injury and your broken arm and they had to sew up a pretty big wound in your gut. You were in a car accident with Elliott and the kids. Ellie and Demmy have been released with only minor contusions and abrasions. Lala..." he hesitated," Lourdes Mary is in intensive care."
Illya looked dumbfounded. This was his partner...his friend and had to be telling him the truth. "I was not in a helicopter crash?"
"Not recently... no," Napoleon answered, knowing what was coming next as he'd had this exact conversation with his partner several times.
"When...where did it happen?"
"On the Belt Parkway near Coney Island Avenue, three days ago."
"We were going to Brighton Beach," the Russian suddenly remembered.
"Good, that's right you were taking the kids and Elliott to Olga's friends house for a birthday party for the woman's grandson."
"It was raining just like today was it not?"
"Yes it was."
"What happened again?" Illya, though remembering bits and pieces still looked lost and confused.
"You were in a taxi with Ellie and the kids when a sizable delivery truck rear-ended you."
Illya closed his eyes trying desperately to recall the event.
They were all in the back seat of the yellow cab. Demya was seated between his mother and I. Lala was in my lap and I was playing pat-a-cake with her, holding her hands and clapping to the rhyme.
"Laduski, laduski
Gde byli?
-U babushki.
Chto eli?
-Kashku.
Chto pili?
-Brazhku
Kashka masleri' ka
Brazka sladen'ka
Babushka dobren'ka!
Da Da Da!
.
"Pat-a cake Pat-a-cake
Where are you?
At granny's
What did you eat?
-porridge.
What did you drink?
-a little home-brewed beer!
The porridge is buttered
The home-brew is sweet
Grandmother is kind!
Yes yes yes"
"Da Da Da" Lala repeated the last line then erupted into a fit of giggles as he tickled her tummy while he made a quacking sound at her. He remembered how wonderful her laughter made him feel, the sense of joy that it filled him with when he always heard it.
Suddenly the vehicle was jolted hard from behind and they were thrown wildly about inside the cab...he remembered hearing screams but he was trapped, surrounded by crumpled metal and he could hear Lourdes howling at the top of her lungs from somewhere in the wreckage.
"Lala!" he called out to her, trying to move towards her voice but there was pain, lots of pain, he couldn't move and then it all went blank.
.
"Lala! He blurted out.
"Illya are you alright?"
"Da, I remember it now. How is my daughter?" he whispered as he was beginning to shiver.
This was the moment that Napoleon had been dreading, giving his partner the bad news. "I have to tell it to you straight. It doesn't look good. I'm sorry tovarisch. She has a head injury and she's in a coma. The doctors say it doesn't look good."
Illya's jaw tightened, then he covered his eyes with is hand. "I need to see her," he said wiping them with his pajama sleeve.
"They won't let you up yet. They're watching you for signs of internal bleeding." Napoleon told him that, trying to bluff. He was in bad shape and pretty banged up but the main concern was really for his head injury and the upset of seeing the condition of his baby wouldn't do him any good.
"Since when has anything ever stopped you from helping me out of a hospital bed? Please, I need to see my daughter. Napoleon what if she...?"
This was the most lucid Illya had been since the accident, as well as the most he'd recalled about it. "Maybe he did deserve to see her. He was right,"Solo thought, what if she did die. Her father had a right to see her."
"I know, don't say it." He cut Illya off, as if not speaking the words would deny the truth of it, and somehow make not happen. He knew it was against his better judgement, but if he didn't help his partner then the man would do it by himself, and probably get hurt in the process.
"Look, I'll figure out something okay. Now just relax before the nurse comes in and sedates you? I'll be back in a little bit. Promise me you'll stay calm?"
"Da, ya obeshchayu." He gave his word.
Napoleon left, wondering how he was going to do this.
Illya lay alone looking out the rain falling like tears against the window pane, as he fought back his own tears. "I cannot lose my little girl...no this is not real. This could not be happening," he tried to convince himself.
Twenty minutes later a slightly winded Napoleon walked through the door pushing a wheel chair in front of him.
"Thank you my friend," Illya tried smiling.
"You have no idea the promises I had to make to get this. And don't thank me until we have successfully completed our mission partner."
"I could just imagine," Illya said letting his imagination run wild. "Please I would not have you making any promises on my account that could jeopardize your marriage."
"Please give me some credit for creativity. Just tickets to some sporting event...that won't be cheap. But I figure this is worth it."
"I owe you my friend."
"Yes you do." Napoleon smiled. He helped Illya slide out of bed; the man letting out a hiss of pain as he was lowered into the wheel chair. Napoleon pulled the sheet from the bed, draping it across Illya's lap, then he put on a white doctor's coat and draped a stethoscope around his own neck, assuming his role of physician in this ruse. He unlocked the brakes and pushed his partner from the room.
Solo navigated the wheelchair down the hall with purpose, looking like he was the man in charge and knew what the hell he was doing.
"Hello Doctor," a nurse greeted him as she walked past, one he didn't recognize. And as she continued moving along; he breathed his first sigh of relief, though he knew they weren't out of the woods yet.
Somehow the plan worked and he was able to get Illya up to ICU. He wheeled the chair into the room but knew as soon as he saw the baby lying there with all the tubes, monitors and bandages that it was a mistake.
He'd seen his partner upset before, frightened and crazed out of his head after being drugged, but the look on his face was one of sheer devastation. Illya reached out, touching his baby's cheek with a trembling hand, not saying a word. His jaw stiffened and he kept his composure, not showing any sign of tears.
But Napoleon could hear him whispering to her in Russian, then uttering a plea to God for her life to be spared. "Please do not take away from me again? Take mine please if you must have a life and spare her?" Bozhe moi...palzhuista_dear God please!" He let his exclamation be heard by his partner.
A nurse walked in at that moment, halting in her tracks the moment she saw Illya in the wheelchair. Speaking softly to them, though she showed definite signs of anger in her voice.
"What the hell are you doing in here Mr. Kuryakin? Do you want to kill yourself? And you Mr. Solo, you should know better!"
She turned on her heels, returning a moment later accompanied by an orderly to take Illya back to his room.
Once outside in the hall she gave Napoleon a definitive evil eye and a piece of her mind to go with it.
"I know you U.N.C.L.E. agents think you can do as you please, but not on my watch. Now if you don't want to lose your visiting priviledges, I suggest that you don't pull a stunt like this again Mr. Solo. Am I clear on this?"
"Yes ma'am." Though he showed no signs of remorse in his tone of voice. He then turned away from her, following the orderly back to the elevator with his partner.