The End - For Sinthia

[red_peril]

(Takes place one week after this entry. http://red-peril.dreamwidth.org/2504.html)

He tucked his shirt into his pants, the bulletproof vest with it's squib packs of blood in place. Illya didn't even have time to text Sinthia to let her know that the conclusion of the mission was happening now. His handlers had intercepted him on his way to work as he stopped to get coffee that morning before heading to Ivan's restaurant.



"Are you ready for this, Kuryakin?" his FBI handler asked. Amanda was a petite older woman. She was just over five foot and had to crane her neck to look up at the very tall Russian agent.

"Da," he said curtly, adjusting his tie and putting on his jacket. The new thin fabric bulletproof vest was well hidden beneath his clothes. "Are you sure this is going to work?"

"Nervous?" She asked, her cool green eyes searched his face for any trace of anxiety.

"I would be fool not to be," he told her. His face unreadable. "Listen if anything happens to me," he said pulling a hastily written note out of his pocket, "Get this to Sinthia, please." When she was about to protest, he continued, "She knows about the mission, I already told you that. Sinthia won't do anything to compromise it. And this only goes to her if something happens to me. If everything goes as planned, you can just throw it away."

"Just be careful in there, handsome. Don't make me have to deliver this," she said to the FSB agent as she slipped the letter into her bag.

With that he put his gun in its shoulder holster, buttoned his jacket, and stepped out of the trailer. It was parked in a vacant parking lot behind the coffee shop. Illya went in the back door, ordered coffee and by 7:00 am he was at Ivan's side as the old man picked up his grandchildren to take them to school. The rest of the day went fairly routinely.

"The Chechens new leader wants to meet," Ivan announced. "This afternoon. In a neutral location," Ivan said, amused. There was no such thing as a neutral location in New York. As it was, they would meet at a warehouse on the dock in Brighton Beach. There had been squabbling among the Chechens faction of the Vor since Anatoli, their previous leader, had been assassinated earlier in the week. Apparently some sort of truce seemed to be in order. The new man was wanting to heal old wounds between the two Vor factions.

They arrived at the warehouse exactly on time, Illya getting out of the car ahead of Ivan, as usual. Illya recognized the old warehouse. It was not the first time it had been used as a meet. It was strangely deserted. A single shipping container was sitting in the middle of the warehouse floor. "Wait," Drawing his weapon, Illya checked around the container and there was no one.

"There is no one here. Something is wrong," he said looking around the dark warehouse. He returned to Ivan's side. This was supposed to be a routine meeting and yet the Chechen were not here. "It feels like an ambush, boss. You need to get out of here."

Taking his advice, the old man headed back toward his limousine. Just as he was about to get in, a bullet zinged off the door frame and Illya shoved Ivan inside the back seat of the car. "Stay down! Drive!"

Everything after that seemed to happen in slow motion. Illya knew he would be hit, that was the plan. He turned to return fire but didn't have a chance. Of course, that was when the Chechens decided to join the party.

Three bullets slammed into his chest exploding the squibs and making it look as though he had been fatally hit. But even with the bulletproof vest on, it felt like someone hit him with a sledge hammer. Gasping for air, Illya slumped back against the open door of the car.

But the Chechen didn't know the shots weren't being fired in their direction and they opened up on Ivan's car. He felt another searing pain as a slug tore through his thigh. Two more shots hit him in the chest and the shoulder. He felt like he was falling in slow motion as the car moved away and he collapsed just as another bullet struck him, this time in the head. He had no idea if Ivan managed to escape the authorities or if the task force had caught him. Everything went black.

~~~~~~~~~~

Under the circumstances, Amanda didn't think that just a note dropped off at Ms. Schmidt's workplace was sufficient. At least, she wouldn't want to get such a note in the mail with no explanation if her boyfriend had been the one who had been critically injured. She went against orders to track Sinthia down and headed to the auction house where she worked.

"Ms. Schmidt? I'm afraid need you to come with me." Amanda Bergen told her, as she showed the woman her FBI credentials.

Comments

[abyssum_invocat]

"Don't worry," she said. "I'll be here when you wake up." She leaned over, and kissed his cheek gently as he fell asleep; she was content to wait for a while, though she missed her dog and missed being able to sleep in a bed. But Illya was here, and so was she, and she could be happy with that.

She read--something she'd found in a little bookstore across the street--while he was out, and brushed his hair out of its tangled state, left that way from the pillow. One of the nurses from previous night shifts came by and talked with her a while, passing the time. When she saw his eyes blink open slowly, she smiled at him.

"Good morning again, ptichka."

[red_peril]

"Good morning," it was morning this time. His hospital room window faced East and he could see the sun rise. The sleep the morphine gave him made him feel a little better every time. The doctor had told him its effects would only last about 20 minutes, but it had been longer than that and he was not in too much pain at the moment. He wiggled the fingers of his right hand. There wasn't even a twinge in his shoulder at the moment. He noticed that they had changed the bedclothes and his bandages while he was asleep.

[abyssum_invocat]

"It's a beautiful sunrise," she murmured, watching him wiggle the fingers on his right hand.

"I have to go back to the city for a few days. Just one or two, but I have to talk to my boss, and see about boarding Avi if I won't be there," she said, reticent to leave but even less enthused about having to concentrate on something else. "Does it hurt less to breathe now?"

[red_peril]

"It is," he said. "Okay. Not so bad. Morphine helps." Moving the fingers of his right hand did not hurt. The brace kept him from turning his wrist or any large movement of his arm. "Do me favor," he ran his left hand over his jaw. A few days in hospital and he was growing a scraggly beard. "Bring my shave kit back with you? And maybe chessboard and book I was reading, please?" He needed something to occupy his mind. "And say hello to Avi for me." Illya smiled. "I'll be alright while you are gone."

[abyssum_invocat]

She smiled, and drew her fingertips over his jaw, nuzzling him and laughing as he requested his things. "I will bring the chessboard and your book. But I don't know if I like the idea of you shaving. This looks good on you," Sinthia murmured, resting her weight on her knee on the bed and kissing him with a soft hum.

"I know you'll be alright. I'll still miss you, though. I miss sleeping beside you."

[red_peril]

"Thank you," he laughed pressing his jaw into her hand. "You like me looking like scruffy lumberjack, eh?" Illya kissed her. "No, I think you should shave me. It would be very sexy." There was one particular part that had not been injured and was perfectly healthy. Though Illya didn't have enough energy to carry through anything at this point. "I will miss you too. Hopefully, they do not keep me here much longer."

[abyssum_invocat]

"Don't go getting ahead of yourself," Sinthia admonished gently, watching him rub against her hand like Avi did when he wanted to be petted. "It will be a while before you can act on however sexy I might be."

She kissed him again, soft and gentle but hungry for him, like she'd been denied a favorite food for too long. "I'll call you when I'm home." And probably every night she wasn't there in the hospital with him, too, but she had to go back to work for a while. She left him when he'd decided to sleep again just after midday, and left Illya a letter written in neat Cyrillic and French for when he awoke and she was gone.

A week passed uneventfully for her; work was work, she hadn't accepted any new jobs he'd have needed to know about, and while she did share with him the news that Avi was searching her apartment every time she came in for his Russian friend not much happened otherwise. And then the weekend, and finally she could drive up to see him again, bringing with her more comfortable clothes, music, and his book and chessboard. And his shaving kit.

[red_peril]

While she was gone, the doctor removed the catheter and allowed him to get up and move around a bit. The wound in his thigh was healing well and he had weaned himself off the morphine.

Illya read the letter that she had left him several times. He would need to work on his French, but from the Russian, he could figure out what it said.

Amanda paid a visit to Illya. "You are officially dead, Illya. We got Ivan, his crew, and a few assorted Chechen criminals besides," she told him, handing him a newspaper with the lead story about the FBI capturing Ivan and his crew. "With the information you gave us, we found and freed three hundred women and girls from the slave trade. INS is still sorting them out." It wasn't all happy endings, some of the girls would never get to return home. "You did good, Illya," she said and handed him an envelope. "That is a letter and your retirement papers from the FSB." He was mentioned in the article as having died in the shootout.

"It is very strange to be dead," he said, reading the article. It was even stranger to be free. Free of Ivan, free of the FSB. "So what do I do now?"

"When you are released from the hospital, we can relocate you," she offered.

"I will need to think about that," he said. It was not like he could go be a farmer in Iowa. It was not in his skill set. Illya would want to talk with Sinthia about it first, before they decided anything.

Every day that she was gone, they talked on the phone. She even held the phone down so he could talk to Avi. Still he missed her and the hospital bed was uncomfortable and lonely. He could hardly wait for her to come back.

[abyssum_invocat]

The Friday she came back it was evening when she filled his doorway, smiling though she hadn't since she'd heard the news that he'd died; the panic had been obvious in her voice, followed swiftly by melting relief when Illya had answered her. And now she saw him, sitting up and without the morphine drip, and looking more like himself.

"Hello, love," she murmured, setting the bag with his clothes down, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I missed you."

[red_peril]

"Sinthia," he smiled and his eyes actually seemed to sparkle when he saw her in the doorway. Illya was feeling more himself. Though his hair had grown out a bit and he was well on his way to growing a full beard. He pushed his shaggy blonde hair from his forehead, "I missed you too." Then he held out his left hand to take hers. "Thank you for coming back to save me from dreadful daytime television! I have been bored out of my mind."

[abyssum_invocat]

"Well, I brought your books, and clothes," she said in response, taking his hand and squeezing it, kissing his cheek and wrinkling her nose at the scratch. "You need a haircut," Sinthia laughs gently. "And a shave."

[red_peril]

"I knew I loved you for a reason," he teased. "Da, I do. Although I could let it grow out more. One of the nurses said with all the tattoos and the beard and long hair I would make cute 'hipster,' whatever that is."

[abyssum_invocat]

"I'll show you," Sinthia said, pulling out her phone and calling up pictures of exactly that; she could and would freely admit that perhaps those men were very attractive, but they weren't what she was interested in. "I like you better the way I met you. I like the tattoos and your short hair."

She could stand it at this length, though; a little long was one thing, longer than her hair was another. "Do you want to get dressed first, or come with me to shave?"

[red_peril]

He eyed the photos she showed him on her phone, "I think I will pass. I like my hair shorter too. Not so sure I like beard." He ran his fingers over the rough hair on his chin. "I would love to put on pants first and then shave." Illya hadn't worn pants for over two weeks now. "I will need help to get stupid hospital gown off."

[abyssum_invocat]

"I like the length right now, but any longer and you can get it cut when you're able to leave," Sinthia murmured, finger-combing his hair back and chuckling when he mentioned needing help.

"Sit up, then. The gowns are tied with double knots, I'll cut them free so you can change." She leaned in to kiss the back of his neck. "Do you need help getting into your clothes?"

[red_peril]

Illya liked when she ran her fingers through his hair. He sat up so that she could cut the knots off the hospital gown and shivered when she kissed the back of his neck. "I have missed you, so much. I probably will."

He slid out of the bed and managed to get it off his left arm, then turned so that Sinthia could help him untangle it from his right arm which was still in the brace. The swelling had gone down and his face was almost completely healed. Standing there half naked revealed all of his injuries to her. His thigh was healing nicely and he could walk with only a little limp. The bruises on his chest were fading to a rather ugly mix of green and purple. The vest was made to deflect some of the energy of the bullets, but not even the fluid filled kevlar could completely protect the wearer. Especially hit so many times in the same area with large caliber rounds. Illya had been very lucky that it hadn't failed altogether. The surgical scar on his shoulder was nearly completely healed. It would take much longer for the rotator cuff though.

Once they had the gown off, he waited for her to help him get into a pair of underwear. The elastic banded undershorts he could get up by himself, albeit awkwardly. But not the pants, and he could not button and zip them one handed.

[abyssum_invocat]

She didn't comment much when she had the opportunity to help him into regular clothes; she studied the healing bruises that had fully settled where he'd been hit with the bullets--having an STF vest herself she knew how the stuff worked, and though it did a remarkable job at not fracturing like kevlar plate could it still left some nasty marks--lightly feathering her fingertips over the spots.

"Your shoulder and your thigh look good for healing," she murmured, standing in front of him with her hands resting on the band of his trousers, looking up. "I was so worried when someone came in to see me. I thought you'd be dead when I got here." She'd kept an eye out for any unusual activity around his place when she'd visited to get his clothes, and had an ear to the ground, so to speak, for any chatter about Ivan, but she hadn't called her contact yet, because Valeriy was not a man known for being able to keep his mouth shut.

"Has Amanda come back to talk to you yet?"

[red_peril]

"I am being careful," though at this point, he didn't have much of a choice. Illya definitely didn't want to go through another surgery. And he did want to get out of the hospital soon. "She did. Good news is they got Ivan and his crew, and some of the Chechen Vor as well. They also managed to free over three hundred women. She also brought me a letter from FSB and my retirement papers. I will be getting a whole eight thousand rubles a month. Which works out to just over one hundred seventeen US dollars." He shook his head and laughed. "It was good thing I was not in it for money."

[abyssum_invocat]

She huffed out a laugh. "I told you I'd put you on the list at my bank," Sinthia said, resting her chin on his uninjured shoulder.

"I'm glad it was successful. Just less so that you're hurt." She was allowed to be protective, she thought; he was her lover, the most intimate person she'd been with in memory, and they'd given them little or no notice before setting what was a truly poorly thought-out operation in motion. "What did the letter say?"

[red_peril]

"I know, I appreciate you sharing your wealth with me," he grinned. "Mostly it was 'Thank you for diligent effort in service to the motherland... blah blah blah... You will be remembered as a hero... and here is your measly pension, we wish it could be more. We have sent you certificate of appreciation from President Vladimir Putin, suitable for framing, but you cannot show it to anyone as your mission must remain secret. You can read it if you like. They knew I would not be coming back to Moscow."

When she zipped him up, he grinned, "I have missed wearing pants." Illya leaned down a little to kiss her gently, trying not to bend too much. "Amanda said that when I was ready to leave hospital, they would relocate me."

[abyssum_invocat]

"I wonder if they know your mission was compromised," she wondered aloud, rising up to her toes to meet him for that kiss. It was something she'd missed, and she isn't shy about it as she forms her hand around the back of his neck carefully, drawing them together.

"Relocate you to where?" Sinthia asked.

[red_peril]

"Probably they do not care enough about it. They are very happy to have captured Ivan and freed all the women. But I am just cog in machine." Illya would have shrugged if it didn't hurt his shoulder, but he refrained. "I told Amanda that I wanted to talk to you first about relocation. I would be disaster as farmer in Idaho or Iowa or wherever they grow things. And I have not figured out what I want to do for job now." Despite Sinthia's generosity, he could not conceive of a life spent doing nothing and just living off her money.

[abyssum_invocat]

"You could be a stylist," she suggested, spreading her fingers around his waist. She hadn't moved to pick up the razor yet, momentarily distracted by the idea of relocation. "You've always dressed very well, and you've got more than enough intelligence to do it well."

She nuzzled his jaw, affectionate but gentle. "In the meantime you can live with me while you figure it out."

[red_peril]

"I had not thought about that. Stylist sounds interesting," he smiled at her touch. Illya had no idea how to become such a thing. But he could learn. "I know I do not want be where you are not." He kissed her forehead.

[abyssum_invocat]

She chuckled and stepped back, eyes closing at that kiss, and smiled. "I'd go with you almost anywhere," Sinthia said quietly.

"Take some time, think about what interests you," she said, picking up the razor. "Now, do you want me to help you?"