The two nuns stopped in their tracks. The one in front was wearing a cream colored habit. She held her lamp in front of her and said, "Who are you and what are you doing here?"
Illya gasped, "Please, Sister, I am hurt and I came in here to rest! I was being chased by, chased by…" He stopped speaking and slumped against the hallway wall. He didn't know if the sisters would have heard of THRUSH. "Chased by bad people," he finished lamely.
"Mother Superior doesn't approve of strangers being down here, especially strange men. You will have to go."
The Russian looked past the young woman to the older nun behind her, or at least, who he assumed was older as she was wearing the black and white habit he associated with the Catholic religion. She stood just outside the circle of light emanating from the lamp. That is why I cannot see her face. "Mother Superior," he implored, "I promise I will leave as soon as I am able. I just need rest. Please." His plea was met with silence.
"Mother Superior doesn't speak to anyone outside the Order." She looked back at the still silent, unmoving figure. Looking back at Illya she said, "Mother Superior is losing patience. I beg you: Leave now. Go back the way you came. Now."
"But…"
Suddenly, the Mother Superior was in front of the novice, directly in front of him. "You were told to leave twice," she said in a voice that cause chills up and down his spine. "Now you must stay."
He looked into her face and screamed in terror. He turned to run and felt the skin on his back being ripped apart. "NO!" His nails dug into the wall as he struggled to escape.
His eyes popped open just as he heard a noise at his feet. It took a moment for him to realize that he was in his bed. Whipping around to look, he saw Napoleon standing at the end of it. He was still breathing heavily as he flopped onto his back which sent a wave of fresh pain through it.
"That must have been some dream, Illya! Roll over and let me look at your back," he said in his CEA voice and the blond complied immediately. "You've popped about half of your stitches. Come on, let me clean you up and then we're going to Medical to get you fixed up."
"I do not want to return to Medical; I will be fine."
"Then it's a good thing I didn't ask you what you wanted. Mother Fear whipped you to within an inch of your life and you're definitely going to have the scars to prove it, but they'll be really bad if you don't get re – stitched, plus you risk getting an infection without them. And besides, you're bleeding all over your sheets. Get up and get dressed while I strip the bed. I'll put the sheets in the tub with cold water."
The Russian growled in frustration, but he knew his partner was right. If he didn't move soon, his blood would dry and he would be stuck to them. "Fine, but I want to get something to eat afterwards and I do not want any more pain pills. They give me strange dreams."
