TITLE: Rescue me
Chapter 04
AUTHOR: Ceindreadh
EMAIL: ceindreadh@eircom.net
CATEGORY: drama/angst/gen
WARNING: none
RATING: PG-13
SPOILERS: none
DISCLAIMER: They're not mine, I'm just borrowing them and I'll return them to Norman Felton and Warner Bros when I've finished with them
Thanks to FatCat and Kelly for Betaing this for me.
Part 04/07
"Some Chinese food would be nice," said Illya, his headphones hanging round his neck as he took a break from listening to the bugs that he had planted the previous night. "Perhaps some steamed shrimp dumplings, Cashew Chicken Stir Fry, or maybe some Shredded pork with Stir-fried noodles and Spicy Wonton."
"I noticed a very nice deli only a few blocks away," said Napoleon as he pulled on his coat. He had lost the coin toss deciding who would go and fetch lunch but he was determined to win the choice of where to get it. "Some freshly made sandwiches would be just as tasty...and less messy than eating with the chopsticks you always insist on."
"The Chinese restaurant is only two blocks away...the nearest deli was at least twice that distance," replied Illya stubbornly. "Let me guess, there was a pretty counter assistant working there, no?"
"No," said Napoleon, an air of injured innocence in his voice. "Actually she was working the cash register." He saw Illya roll his eyes. "C'mon Illya, heads I go to the deli, tails I get you your stir fry."
Illya had eyed him with a suspicious air, but had agreed.
"If only I had lost that toss," thought Napoleon as he sat by Illya's bedside. The deli had indeed been several blocks further away, and not only that, but Napoleon knew that he wouldn't have spent as much time conversing with the swarthy man behind the counter at the Chinese takeaway as he had with the pretty young deli assistant. He could have returned to the building in half the time, and even if he had still been too late to prevent the fire from starting, he would have surely been able to get Illya out before he had succumbed to the smoke.
On reaching the hospital, Napoleon had reluctantly allowed a doctor to check out his own injuries while Illya had been whisked away to be seen by the specialists. Mild smoke inhalation and a few first-degree burns had been Napoleon's verdict. The doctor had wanted to admit him overnight for observation, but Napoleon had refused. All he wanted was to find out how Illya was and when he was going to wake up. Checking in with headquarters, he had been informed that agents had been dispatched to check out the scene of the blaze for clues to its origin. He had also found out that the THRUSH scientist whom he and Illya had been listening in to had made a sudden departure soon after the fire had started. Not that Napoleon really cared where the man had disappeared to, nothing like that mattered...not now, not until he knew Illya was going to be all right.
It was probably just as well that the nurses on Illya's ward had been informed of Napoleon's identity and connection to their patient, as he was in no mood to turn his usual charm upon them in order to gain access to Illya's room.
But now, as on many previous occasions, it was a case of just sitting and waiting for Illya to regain consciousness. As always though, there was the fear at the back of Napoleon's mind that this time it wouldn't happen...that maybe this time his injuries would prove more than he could take. Napoleon swallowed hard and tried to pretend that the lump in his throat was an after effect of the smoke he had inhaled. It didn't make it any easier to hear the hiss of the ventilator as it forced the air into Illya's lungs...
Illya's doctor had assured Napoleon that everything possible had been done for his partner and that all they could do now was wait and see if his body would prove strong enough to survive. His minor burns had been treated, he was being monitored closely, but from here on it it was a waiting game. So all Napoleon could do was sit and wait and toy idly with the communicator he had taken from Illya in the ambulance. It was almost as battered and smoke stained as its owner, but amazingly was still functioning. Napoleon could only hope that Illya would be as resilient.
---------------------------
To be continued
Chapter 04
AUTHOR: Ceindreadh
EMAIL: ceindreadh@eircom.net
CATEGORY: drama/angst/gen
WARNING: none
RATING: PG-13
SPOILERS: none
DISCLAIMER: They're not mine, I'm just borrowing them and I'll return them to Norman Felton and Warner Bros when I've finished with them
Thanks to FatCat and Kelly for Betaing this for me.
Part 04/07
"Some Chinese food would be nice," said Illya, his headphones hanging round his neck as he took a break from listening to the bugs that he had planted the previous night. "Perhaps some steamed shrimp dumplings, Cashew Chicken Stir Fry, or maybe some Shredded pork with Stir-fried noodles and Spicy Wonton."
"I noticed a very nice deli only a few blocks away," said Napoleon as he pulled on his coat. He had lost the coin toss deciding who would go and fetch lunch but he was determined to win the choice of where to get it. "Some freshly made sandwiches would be just as tasty...and less messy than eating with the chopsticks you always insist on."
"The Chinese restaurant is only two blocks away...the nearest deli was at least twice that distance," replied Illya stubbornly. "Let me guess, there was a pretty counter assistant working there, no?"
"No," said Napoleon, an air of injured innocence in his voice. "Actually she was working the cash register." He saw Illya roll his eyes. "C'mon Illya, heads I go to the deli, tails I get you your stir fry."
Illya had eyed him with a suspicious air, but had agreed.
"If only I had lost that toss," thought Napoleon as he sat by Illya's bedside. The deli had indeed been several blocks further away, and not only that, but Napoleon knew that he wouldn't have spent as much time conversing with the swarthy man behind the counter at the Chinese takeaway as he had with the pretty young deli assistant. He could have returned to the building in half the time, and even if he had still been too late to prevent the fire from starting, he would have surely been able to get Illya out before he had succumbed to the smoke.
On reaching the hospital, Napoleon had reluctantly allowed a doctor to check out his own injuries while Illya had been whisked away to be seen by the specialists. Mild smoke inhalation and a few first-degree burns had been Napoleon's verdict. The doctor had wanted to admit him overnight for observation, but Napoleon had refused. All he wanted was to find out how Illya was and when he was going to wake up. Checking in with headquarters, he had been informed that agents had been dispatched to check out the scene of the blaze for clues to its origin. He had also found out that the THRUSH scientist whom he and Illya had been listening in to had made a sudden departure soon after the fire had started. Not that Napoleon really cared where the man had disappeared to, nothing like that mattered...not now, not until he knew Illya was going to be all right.
It was probably just as well that the nurses on Illya's ward had been informed of Napoleon's identity and connection to their patient, as he was in no mood to turn his usual charm upon them in order to gain access to Illya's room.
But now, as on many previous occasions, it was a case of just sitting and waiting for Illya to regain consciousness. As always though, there was the fear at the back of Napoleon's mind that this time it wouldn't happen...that maybe this time his injuries would prove more than he could take. Napoleon swallowed hard and tried to pretend that the lump in his throat was an after effect of the smoke he had inhaled. It didn't make it any easier to hear the hiss of the ventilator as it forced the air into Illya's lungs...
Illya's doctor had assured Napoleon that everything possible had been done for his partner and that all they could do now was wait and see if his body would prove strong enough to survive. His minor burns had been treated, he was being monitored closely, but from here on it it was a waiting game. So all Napoleon could do was sit and wait and toy idly with the communicator he had taken from Illya in the ambulance. It was almost as battered and smoke stained as its owner, but amazingly was still functioning. Napoleon could only hope that Illya would be as resilient.
---------------------------
To be continued
