Napoleon was also going through the motions. Luckily, his version of "auto-pilot" did not result in carelessness that could wind up killing him. In four days, the THRUSH birds were thwarted and he was coming home. Exhausted, he couldn't sleep. It didn't take the mind of a rocket scientist nor a quantum physicist to figure out Ilya's disconcerting tranquility indicated that he'd given up.
Sidney's perusal of nearly every medical journal was not going to help them in time. It was too late for elegant procedures. Too bad he couldn't call on some of the gonzo meatball surgeons he'd encountered in Korea. Sitting up suddenly, Napoleon thought again. Maybe he *could*. "Open Channel C..."
NS*IK*NS*IK*NS
When Napoleon's helicopter touched down on the roof of UNCLE headquarters, he hit the pavement at a run. Sidney was waiting for him in the suite. "Where's Ilya?"
"In the infirmary. Relax Napoleon. I thought it too risky at this stage to move him around any more than we have to. Physically, he's okay."
"Physically."
"You've noticed too?"
"Yeah, I'm in love with the guy. He's given up hasn't he?"
"It appears so. Do whatever you can to snap him out of this."
"Did you get my message?" Napoleon quickly changed out of his field clothes and threw some cold water on his face.
"He's waiting downstairs, come on." The two men almost ran for the elevator.
A tall, gangly man with an unruly mop of black hair was waiting in Sidney's office. "Dr. Pierce? This is Ilya's partner, Napoleon Solo."
"Please, call me Hawkeye." The surgeon shook Napoleon's hand. "I'd thought I'd seen some wacko stuff in Korea, but this takes the cake." Hawkeye grinned and shook his head.
"Do you think you can help us?" Napoleon was somehow reassured by the former Army surgeon's manner.
"Yeah, but *I'm* going to need some as well. Geoff is a good man but we need the best. Do you think you could whistle up some transport for a former colleague of mine? He's in Los Angeles: Dr. B.J. Hunnicut."
"He'll be here, yesterday." Napoleon pulled out his communicator and made the arrangements. He left the two docs to their technical discussion and went to see Ilya.
In less than a week, Ilya's condition had deteriorated. His face was gaunt. Bluish smudges ringed his eyes. The pain had returned full force. Even in sleep, Ilya's brow was furrowed. Napoleon sat on the edge of the bed and gently caressed his lover's cheek. A pair of sad blue eyes looked up at him. "I love you, Polya. Never forget that."
"As if I could. Come on, mon vieux. What's bothering you? You look like a week-old corpse. Sidney, everyone is busy choosing what they're going to wear to your funeral." Napoleon tried to smile.
"Don't wear black, Napasha. It makes you look jaundiced. Maybe that brown suit I like so much?"
"Since when have you been in a position to give me advice on my wardrobe?"
"Since always. I may not care how *I* look, but I've always paid attention to what you were wearing."
"Ilya, I'm serious. According to Sidney, Vashti has come up with half of what they need to pull both of you through this. The other half is in Sidney's office right now. Things are going to work out beautifully, trust me."
"I do Polya, but I think you should prepare yourself for the worst."
"Damn it, Ilya! You've taken everything THRUSH and God knows who else could throw at you and survived! Please liubov, you're frightening me. I cannot let you do this to yourself. Please, my love come back to me." The urbane facade was shattered. Napoleon didn't care if Ilya thought he was too needy. The vulnerable man that was usually well camouflaged behind the witty manners was known only to his lover.
"Napoleon unashamedly wiped his face. "Ilya I love you so very much. I know I made it difficult for you to believe me in the beginning, but by now you must know I'm lost without you. I need your strength, dushka..."
"Shhh." Napoleon felt some warm drops on his hands. Ilya was a very strong man. In his relatively short life, he'd endured hardships that would have shattered others. There were very few things that could break through his personal iron curtain. One of them was Napoleon. Ilya looked up at him, his eyes glittering. His partner's honest expression of need merited similar truth from the Russian. "Polya, I don't think I'll have the stamina to get through this. I've been in pain almost from the start of this nightmare. I'm worn out from fighting it. If I seem distant it's because I don't have the energy needed for emotional displays. I want to get through this; but I'd be lying to you if I didn't admit to not being sure if I will be able to." It was ironic. The worst that THRUSH agents could do to him, was generate a severe annoyance. The idea of leaving Napoleon behind to cope alone, terrified the younger man.
NS*IK*NS*IK*NS
The person Hawkeye Pierce was counting on to pull Ilya out of his depressed state landed at LaGuardia and was raced to UNCLE headquarters. Dr. Hunnicut was not what any of them were expecting. He was tanned, dressed in an expensive suit; the picture of a successful Hollywood plastic surgeon. He greeted Hawkeye as if he were a long lost brother. When the Californian shook hands with Napoleon, the agent saw a strength in the surgeon's gaze that contrasted sharply with his smooth manners.
"Hawkeye briefed me. Can I meet your partner?" Dr. Hunnicut shed his suit coat and put on the lab wrap Sidney held out to him.
"Come on, Beej." Hawkeye grabbed Hunnicut by the arm and headed to the isolation room.
The patient wasn't what BJ had been expecting either. Ilya was lying on his back; his stomach seemed huge. Hooking a stool with his foot, BJ scooted over to the Ilya's bedside and introduced himself in Russian. Ilya's eyes stretched wide. He gestured for the head of the bed to be raised.
"Wait a couple of minutes. While I've got you at my mercy, I might as well examine you and junior." BJ pulled a stethoscope out of his pocket and went to work. He took Ilya's pulse, listened to his heart and finally, moved the bedclothes aside and placed the stethoscope against Ilya's abdomen. After a few moments, the surgeon sat back and grinned. "This is unbelievable. I can't wait to get in there and see how this nut managed to pull it off. The baby's heart rate is fine. Yours is a little high, but that's to be expected."
"Why are you here, doctor?" Ilya asked as he was raised into a semi- recumbent position.
"To help my fellow docs. Your surgery is going to be a lulu and Sidney figured a couple of gonzo hotshots who are used to thinking fast on their feet are just what you need. Besides, when this is all over, I'm sure you'll want the best plastics man in Beverly Hills to perform the tummy tuck. Piece of cake." BJ grinned boyishly and whistled.
"You're very confident." Ilya observed narrowing his eyes.
"You betcha. The unit I worked in during the Korean war had the highest survival rate for combat casualties, bar none. I'm part of the team responsible. The main reason is standing on the other side of your bed. Relax, buddy. You've got nothing to worry about. This time, the generators won't cut out, bombs won't be falling, and the temperature in the OR will stay well above freezing. Hawk and I could do this one in our sleep. Oh yeah that's another one. We're both well rested. It's not as if you are our forty-fifth surgical case and we've both been on our feet for ten hours or more."
"We also won't be half hung over from drinking homemade vodka." Hawkeye grinned.
"Speak for yourself. I had two martinis on the plane." BJ stood up and grabbed Ilya's chart. "Where's the prep room?"
"You're going to operate now?" Ilya was having difficulty accepting BJ's blithely casual attitude.
"Of course. As a consult, I'm charging your uncle fifteen hundred bucks an hour---half my usual rate. He wouldn't want me to hang around any longer than necessary.
"Yes, but can you keep this confidential?" Ilya was still trying to digest someone being paid three thousand dollars an hour.
"Well, I don't know. Half of the beautiful men and women of the silver screen have been through my clinic and only *I* know what for and how old they really are. Good enough?"
"Da." The outrageous salary made sense now.
"In a couple of hours you'll be back to your old fighting weight. That's a promise. Come on Hawkeye. You've been in this burg long enough to tell me where a good bar is. After we get the job done, I'm buying."
"You're on." The two surgeons left the room laughing as Napoleon came in.
"Polya, where did Sidney find them?"
"He didn't. I did. Well, Hawkeye anyway. Some of us passed through his MASH unit and lived to tell about. Considering how the men looked when they went in, that was recommendation enough for me."
"You weren't wounded."
"Not so as it'd show. I lost some good friends, though."
"That explains your mother hen complex."
"Shhh. That's one of my secrets. Ah, here comes the delectable Nurse Jenkins to send you off to dream land." Napoleon took Ilya's hand in his. "These guys are the best. Close your gorgeous baby blues, and don't worry. I love you, Ilyusha."
"Napasha, dushka moi..." Ilya closed his eyes as the nurse administered the first stage of the anesthetic. For the first time in a long while, he smiled.
NS*IK*NS*IK*NS
"Well done, Beej. I think your bedside manner did the trick." Hawkeye scrubbed his hands. "Three thousand an hour?"
"Are you kidding? I had to say something." BJ was completely serious now. "I looked at the sonics and x-rays and I still don't believe it."
"So that makes it unanimous. What some folks won't do in their spare time. The doc that knocked up Ilya must have been a first-rate section-eight. Shit! Pregnant men! What will they think up next?" Hawkeye shut off the water with his elbow. "How's he looking to you?"
"Like a dying man." BJ said bluntly, holding up his hands. "Odds are not in our favor, Hawk. This guy's at the end of his rope and too weak to hold on in any case." Nurse Jenkins came in with sterile gloves and gowns and assisted the two surgeons.
"Let's get the show on the road. The sooner we finish the sooner we can hit that bar." Hawkeye's eyes gleamed above the surgical mask.
"Some things never change." BJ backed through the doors to where Sidney, Geoff, and Vashti were already waiting. Nurse Jenkins had the dubious honor of shaving Ilya and preparing him for surgery. She proceeded quickly and very carefully. Ilya's skin was stretched so tight, the least nick could cause a serious rupture. Napoleon watched her every move.
The sight of his partner, white-faced with sunken eyes was upsetting. The doctors had told him that time was running out. They hadn't mentioned the patient's heart was beginning to be affected by the strain of bearing this unnatural burden. When Ilya was wheeled into the OR, Napoleon followed up to the door and stood looking in the small window. Sidney waved to him and from the expression in his eyes, grinned. BJ held up his thumb and index finger in an "OK" sign. The medical team went to work.
[Reviews - 0] [Kudos - 140]
Download story PDF format or ePUB format or MOBI format
Table of Contents
Download story PDF format or ePUB format or MOBI format
Table of Contents