Chapter 4! Poor Napoleon, I wonder what's happening to him... I hope you guys enjoy this chapter :)

Half an hour later, in the car

"Could you stop checking my pulse every five minutes, Peril? You're making me nervous."

"Your heartbeat is fast."

"It's fast because you're making me nervous."

Illya reluctantly let go of his partner's wrist. Napoleon was still holding the handkerchief to his nose but it was now saturated with blood and starting to drip onto his clothes. At least Illya had been able to change the gauze pad on his chin.

"Is he still bleeding?", Gaby asked, glancing at Napoleon in the rear-view mirror.

Illya removed the handkerchief from Napoleon's face and tilted his chin up. Blood was still trickling steadily from his nose. Another trickle of blood was coming out the left side of his mouth.

"Still bleeding from his nose and his mouth. It doesn't look like it's going to stop."

"It will stop eventually…" , Napoleon uttered in a tired voice. "When there's no blood left in my body."

He closed his eyes and rested his head against the seat.

Illya frowned.

"You're not falling asleep, Cowboy?"

"No, no… I'm just not feeling so well, my head is killing me…"

"Keep pressing that to your nose.", Illya said, putting the handkerchief back in his hand.

"It's not doing much good though, Peril. I have blood on my clothes and I'm redecorating the car seat…"

"Do as I say, Cowboy. And no sleeping."

The Russian looked down at his hands, his fingers were covered in Napoleon's blood. Visually, the stains on the American's clothes looked alarming, but Illya knew he hadn't actually lost that much blood.

So why does he look like he's going to pass out?

His gaze shifted again to Napoleon's face. He was even paler than when they had left the hotel.

Twenty minutes later, still in the car

"Illya, please stop tapping your fingers against your leg, it's not going to make the car move faster.", Gaby said, irritated.

"Sorry."

"How is he?"

Illya studied Napoleon's ashen face for a while before he answered. His partner's eyes were closed, his jaw was clenched. His skin was covered in a sheen of sweat.

"He's really pale…"

At that moment, Napoleon's hold on the handkerchief loosened and his hand dropped into his lap. Illya immediately slapped the American's face.

"Hey, hey Cowboy! No sleeping."

"Ouch… I'm not sleeping, Peril."

"Good. Then put that back against your nose.", Illya instructed, picking up the handkerchief.

"No…it's useless…and I don't want to…"

Before Napoleon could finish his sentence, Illya had already twisted both ends of the handkerchief and inserted them into his partner's nostrils. The American looked ridiculous and Illya would have been tempted to make fun of him if he had not been so worried. He suspected that Napoleon had dropped the handkerchief because he was too weak to hold it in place. The Russian was confused by his partner's rapidly worsening state.

This should not be happening. He hasn't lost enough blood to be feeling dizzy and weak.

Illya used the sleeve of Napoleon's jacket to gently wipe the sweat from his brow. He shook his head.

Stupid, delicate, fragile American… You'd better not be dying.

He sat in silence for a moment, listening to Napoleon's breathing. It was a bit rapid and shallow. Was it because of the pain in his head? Or because he had trouble breathing with the blood in his nose and mouth? Or was it a sign of something worse?

After a while Illya realized that he was drumming his fingers against his leg again. He knew it wasn't like him to react that way. He prided himself on being stoic. And patient. After all, chess was his favorite game. Occasionally he would go into a fit of murderous rage and wanted to destroy everything around him, but he was getting better at controlling that. But worrying. That was still new to him. It had started when their team had been put together. Gaby and Cowboy were his partners. They had become his friends. They were precious to him. He didn't want to see his friends get hurt. He didn't like seeing Cowboy suffer. He felt a strange, unfamiliar tightness in his chest at the thought that his partner was in pain and he didn't know what to do to help him. This wasn't good. Illya hated being powerless. He could feel the anger and frustration building up inside him. He needed to do something to occupy his mind. He grabbed Napoleon's wrist, frowned…adjusted his grip…his frown deepened.

"You're…doing it again, Peril…", came Napoleon's weak voice.

"Quiet!"

"What's going on?", Gaby asked, nervously.

Illya spread Napoleon's unbuttoned shirt open and pressed his ear to the American's chest. He concentrated as he listened to Napoleon' heart. It was beating fast, too fast.

"Damn Peril…you could use a shave." Napoleon's voice was shaky, his breathing still rapid and shallow. His poor attempt at keeping his tone light wasn't fooling Illya. Looking straight into his partner's eyes, the Russian could see the fear and confusion in them.

"You can talk, your chest is much hairier than my face, Cowboy. Keep your eyes open."

Illya took hold of Napoleon's wrist again. He could feel his pulse if he concentrated hard enough but it was much too weak for his liking. The Russian was no expert but he knew that Napoleon was rapidly getting worse and that he needed medical care as soon as possible. He didn't understand how his partner's condition had worsened so quickly. Surely a nosebleed, even a prolonged one, couldn't have triggered all that. And Cowboy had already been complaining about a headache and nausea so there had to be something else. Whatever it was, Illya was not going to wait until Napoleon died to find out.

"Gaby, Cowboy is getting worse. His pulse is too fast and weak. We need to get him to the hospital now."

"Okay…but what am I supposed to do? I can't magically make traffic disappear, can I?", Gaby snapped. She instantly regretted it. Illya only wanted to make sure Napoleon was going to be okay, and so did she. But here they were, stuck in traffic, unable to help their friend. It was infuriating.

"How far are we from the hospital.", Illya asked.

Gaby checked the map on the seat next to her and handed it to Illya.

"We're really close now. But in this traffic…it might take a while to get there."

"Park the car as soon as you can."

"What? But…"

"We will get there faster on foot."

Gaby was going to argue when she caught Illya's eyes in the rear-view mirror. She held his gaze for a second, then nodded silently and started scanning the street for a parking space.

Napoleon let out a pitiful groan. Again, Illya used the jacket sleeve to wipe his partner's sweaty brow.

"Hang in there, Cowboy.", he said softly. "We're going to get you to the hospital…one way or another."

End of chapter 4.