The force of the blast threw Illya back several feet. He came to to find himself lying amidst scattered debris from the explosion with almost unbearable pain in both ears.
The next thing he knew, Napoleon was standing over him, looking at him with a worried expression on his face. He felt a cold chill go down his spine as he realized that his partner's lips were moving, but no sound seemed to be coming out.
"I cannot hear you." He couldn't hear his own voice either.
Moments later, he was lifted onto a stretcher and taken by ambulance to Medical. As he was wheeled through the familiar doors, he tried to calm himself by telling himself that he'd been injured more seriously before and made a complete recovery, but he was still unable to shed his trepidation.
The physician examined his ears and spoke to a nurse, who wrote the prognosis on a tablet and handed it to Illya. 'The blast from the explosion was so loud that it damaged your hearing. It's too soon to tell whether or not the damage is permanent. It will be a few weeks before we know for sure.'
Alone in a well of silence, Illya had never felt more isolated before in his life. Never one to shy away from cold, hard facts, he now had to face the possibility that he might be permanently deaf. He may never hear his beloved jazz again. He could still play the guitar or balalaika, but the sweet strains of the music would be unable to pierce the wall of silence that now surrounded him. He realized that his cheeks were damp with tears and turned his face to the wall so that nobody would see him crying.
Napoleon came to visit him, and with a start he realized that unless his hearing returned, he could no longer work as a section two agent. He would either be re-assigned to desk duty, or placed on permanent medical leave and probably sent back to the Soviet Union. He found the thought of either situation unbearable.
Night fell, and the lights went out in Medical. Hello darkness, my old friend. He drifted to sleep and dreamed of walking a narrow cobblestone street beneath a street lamp. Suddenly he was nearly blinded by the light from a neon sign, in which he saw a crowd of many people, their mouths moving but not a sound coming out. He awoke with a gasp, cold beads of perspiration on his forehead.
Over the next few days, he taught himself sign language from a book and, being a fast learner, picked it up in no time. He also learned to read people's lips, and in his new world of silence, found that without the distraction of background noise, he paid much closer attention to their words.
The pain in his ears faded, and was gradually replaced with a humming noise, which over time became sounds he recognized.
A month after the explosion that had changed his world so drastically, Illya sat with Napoleon in the cafeteria, chatting.
"It's great to have you back, moy drug," Napoleon told his friend. "It was starting to get very lonely without you."
"It is wonderful to be back," Illya replied. "Never again will I take the world of sound for granted."
He knew that he would soon be re-entering a world of danger, one in which he risked losing much more than just his hearing, but for now he was happy just to sit enjoying a leisurely chat with his partner and friend.