Author's Note: I finally saw the movie last night, and I have to say that I thoroughly enjoyed it. Quite possibly the best spy movie of the year and there have been a large amount of them. Take into mind that I am in love with the mission impossible movie as well, but this one won my heart. If you have the time, feel free to leave a review and I appreciate you reading! (Might be movie spoilers, but you probably already knew that)
Also going to put a trigger warning here just in case, as I just don't want to upset anyone.
He had been so worried for Solo when they had managed to make it back to the hotel, after here success (yet somehow still not success) search for radiation. The cowboy had set off the alarm, even though he had claimed there wasn't on. Illya wasn't quite sure if he actually hadn't thought there to be an alarm or if he had just blissfully forgotten on his quest to look smarter than he was.
Either way, they had set off an alarm, which had a big possibility to blow Solo's cover, as he had reviled himself as a thief. Victoria would no doubt take measures of some kind to ensure that it indeed hadn't been Solo there tonight; the problem was that she would no doubt move fast and they were far away from those cozy hotel rooms.
She had already been in the lobby by the time they had arrived and while Solo sprinted towards his room with an amazing amount of grace, Illya had made straight for his shared one. This was going to have to be played very carefully or it would risk Solo's head. Which is why he ignored Gaby upon entering the room and rushed to get his bug listening device; because something would be going down ad no matter what he was going to be ready if Solo needed his help at any point. Not that the proud American would ever ask for such a thing, but that's what this partnership was all about; having each other's backs.
As the machine focused, all that could be heard was moaning; some coming from a lady who was no doubt Victoria and some desperate groans that by process of elimination had to be Solo. Gaby was making a snarky comment in the back ground and moving off to bed; he watched her go without really saying anything in his embarrassment. Then he took a seat next to the door in case he really did need to spring into action and hunkered down to listen to the sounds coming from over the com.
Illya briefly wondered if Solo had actually known about the bug and just left it there for situations like this (well not exactly like this, but one where he might need a little help), after all he had gracefully found all the other ones almost immediately. He almost wished that Solo had found this one as well as he sat and listened to the desperate moans, waiting for a sign of distress.
It was quite obvious that Victoria was in control of whatever was truly happening because the whimpering and small pleas, where much too deep toned to be hers. It was unsettling to hear the usually proud man begging, and not even knowing what was making him beg. His heart rate started to raise much like it did when he lost his temper, but this was for a bit of a different reason. Whether the two of them got along in the slightest didn't matter, right now his partner was begging in the clutches of a terrible and evil woman and he had no way of being sure what Solo was thinking. Could this even be called consensual? Was Solo just going on like this with his easy playboy American ways, or was he begging with tears in his eyes, feeling used and abused. Doing what she wanted to stay alive and wishing that Illya would come and save him.
His heart pounded at the sense that he didn't know what he should do and Solo could paying for it. A scary thought, even if he didn't much care for the other man. Which was why when a pathetic and quiet whimper of "no" was sobbed out over the speaker, Illya sprang into action. This would ruin the mission, but sometime saving a fellow agent was more important. Head strong and playful American's needed to stay that way; not jaded and broken. It was like he needed to preserve a little of unbridled innocents for the world.
He broke the door down in his rage, entering to briefly see a smug Victoria holding knife over a naked, slightly bloody and crying Solo. He was tied to the bed in a way that could in no way ever being mistaken as comfortable. He only saw her for a few seconds through his red raging view; before he picked her up by the throat and chucked her across the room, effectively disarming her of the knife. He didn't stop there though, stomping over to pick up and smash her head across the ground once and twice for an almost added effect. She went unconscious after the first hit.
She would have body gauds coming to check on her eventually, but he had until then to come up with some kind of plan. He wasn't sure what this meant for the mission, but it was clear that he had most likely just saved the American's life. Illya considered it worth it, as he untied a still sobbing Solo whom was trying his best to now stop the tears. Like he was embarrassed to be crying in front of him, which was perfectly understandable but they didn't have time right now for things like this.
Solo looked defeated and small even after he was freed from the terrible ropes and binds, and he hissed when Illya tried to get him to move. All it took to notice what was still wrong was taking a sweeping glance over his partners full body; and his mouth went desert dry when he saw the large scotch bottle shoved in where nothing had a reason for being. It even still had some liquor in it, and the glass had noticeable blood in the outside rim.
Not too much, but there being any indicated tearing. It was worrying, and made Illya's stomach turn at the thought of Solo just having that bottle roughly shoved into his insides, with even the liquor still sloshing about in it. It had to come out as well, because that scotch was probably burning the blood rips, which would also need to be looked at. Illya wasn't even sure what he'd do if Solo needed stitches. They weren't in any position to be able to go to the hospital, and this kind of wound would be treated badly in public view, probably getting the poor man in more trouble.
"Hold still cowboy, we have to get bottle out of you." Solo flinched slightly and then mewled from the pain. Illya was at least doing a good job of controlling his temper at the moment, because he would have liked to turn around and stomp on that woman a few more times; until she was unrecognizable to even her closest loved ones. Solo was more important at the moment, and he took a few deep breaths that sometimes helped controlling his emotions.
Pulling that bottle out of another man could have been explained as one of the most sickening things he had ever done, lubricated with blood and scotch that dribbled from his swollen hole after it was out. Illya's stomach dropped when Solo had cried out and clutched onto him, like he had no other option at all in life.
And just like that it was over, it was out. Though Solo was still clinging to him like his life depended on it, and his heart couldn't even handle the thought of pushing him away. It was sad to think that Illya was the only person here in this man's time of need and they didn't even get along. He would stay here as long as Solo needed though, because he counted himself as a good man and good men didn't abandon their friends, even if one could count them more as an enemy then friend.
Thoughts of having to beat the men that were no doubt now heading their way after the lady Victoria hadn't turned up. And Illya took a moment to tug the already clinging, injured man into a hug; even being careful not to squeeze too tightly. The rest of the world could wait for a few more moment, because right now Solo needed something strong to clutch onto.
Illya had always been strong, even from childhood as aftermath of dealing with his deranged father; so he would protect the American. Protect him from the world and heal what was broken.