"What I did, it was...it was for the school. Can you believe that?" The elderly woman was dying in Illya's arms, making her confession and trying to alleviate her guilt with one last noble moment; nullifying the mind controlling effects of the music box lullaby that had sent the girls in pursuit of Napoleon with vicious intent.
The blond head nodded in response to the feeble question. Something stirred in his memory and emotions; a recollection of another question that had been put to him, asking if he understood why...
Miss Partridge was able to rescind the command, calling off the students from their assault as the usually unflappable Solo flailed in the pool. To their surprise, he appeared in front of the girls without them recalling their actions just seconds prior.
The old woman died in the Russian's arms, his cheek hovering near her forehead as she breathed her last through words that asked forgiveness. Mr. Waverly, who had driven himself and Illya to the school, saw the momentary lapse of control in his young agent's eyes, the waiver in the normally stoic expression.
'What would cause this abnormal reaction?' he asked himself, daring not to mention it to Mr. Kuryakin. Indeed, the fleeting nature of the uncharacteristic emotion was over in the same instant the woman breathed her last breath, leaving no hint of the unguarded moment he had observed.
There was a great deal of noise as the girls ushered in the dark haired man, now soaked from his dip in the pool. All of them were equally wet, something they forgot upon seeing the trail of dead bodies that greeted them on the steps leading into the main entrance. Illya came out front and halted any further intrusion on the scene inside, gathering up his waterlogged partner and turning the young ladies over to Miss Burgoyne. It would remain for her to break the unhappy news of the death of Miss Partridge.
A clean up crew was brought in to handle the aftermath of the confrontation that had taken place, and Illya was only too glad to ride back in with them; he wasn't in the mood for celebration or questions, and certainly not the flirtatious Miky. The incident had been unsettling to him, the memory of that long ago scene too similar to this afternoon. It would be better to try and forget it, refuse the role of repository for these hurtful visitations from his past.
Illyusha, I couldn't protect you, but I tried. What I did, it was for you, but I have failed, and now you will be lost to me. Can you forgive me?
Yes, better to forget.