avery11: (Kai cat)
Author: Avery11
Genre: Gen
(Written for DTC 2013. Posted in two parts due to LJ size constraints. This is Part 2.

Link to part 1: http://avery11.livejournal.com/40423.html


NY SNOW 2

Oh, Christmas Tree!

(Part 2)


Illya reset the alarm and reclaimed his seat on the Barcalounger. He tried to concentrate on the music – a mellow improvisational track by Duke Ellington – but his restless mind refused to relax. He couldn't stop thinking about Napoleon, out there alone, struggling to dismantle a bomb as the seconds ticked away. I should be there, he thought, feeling angry and frustrated. To make matters worse, the pain medication he'd taken earlier in the evening was wearing off. He ached all over, and his head felt ready to explode at any second.

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avery11: (Kai cat)

Author: Avery11
Genre: Gen

(Written for DTC 2013. Posted in two parts due to LJ size constraints. This is Part I)

Oh, Christmas Tree! 1



Oh, Christmas Tree!

(Part I)

Dr. Rousseau attached the final piece of tape, securing the thick white bandage covering Illya's eyes. He stepped back with a sigh. “We've done all we can for now,” he said. “Go home and get some rest, Mr. Kuryakin. Let nature do its work.”

Illya reached up, feeling the soft, woven texture of the gauze under his fingers, and the heat of the injured flesh beneath the dressing. He traced the singed brows, the cheeks, scored with dozens of tiny cuts from flying debris, and the nasal bone, broken when he fell. His fingers paused, trembling, above the eyes, reliving the blinding flash of green light that had exploded all around him – the last thing he saw before his world went dark. After that came the terror, that awful, floating panic, and Napoleon's voice screaming at him to get up, get clear of the blast zone.

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avery11: (Default)

Author: Avery11
Genre: Gen
written for DtC 9 Challenge





SILENT NIGHT



Silent Night

Napoleon dragged his injured partner through the gathering darkness, every sense alert for sounds of pursuit -- the crunch of footsteps in the deep snow or worse, the dreaded snarl of snowmobiles closing in.

Nothing. Silence enveloped them.

Snow continued to fall, fat flakes swirling soundlessly down, covering the Vermont countryside in a thick blanket of white. Ice coated the trees; their glittering branches bent like bowstrings under the weight. Against the unforgiving whiteness, the agents' bright blue parkas stood out like beacons.

A snap!

Napoleon spun around, Walther cocked and ready, but it was only the branch of an elm tree cracking under the weight of snow and ice. It fell to the ground with a hollow thud. He sighed, and replaced his weapon in its holster.

A few yards ahead, the forest ended. From here on, it was open country in every direction, an endless succession of rolling hills and farmland. They were miles from a major city, their communicators gone, at the mercy of the elements and their THRUSH trackers.

Not the best way to spend Christmas Eve.


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