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The Love of Ivan	By : miladygrimm Category: Marvel Verse Comics > Iron Man Views: 3144 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Iron Man 2, X-men (comics) Omega Red, Marvel, or Paramount Pictures, nor do I own any of the characters from the comics or the movies, this is a work of fiction and I do not profit from these writings.

Chapter List
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Ten hours after the patients started pouring in, Rita was sending people home. Okay, sending was probably a nice word. Ordering was a more apt description of the way Rita was charging around telling people to sign off and get the heck out.
“Get out of here Sylvia,” Rita commanded. “Ya been here almost 30 hours, and you look dead. I don’t need a nurse who is dead on her damn feet.”
“I’m not dead yet.” Sylvia said. She hurt too much to be dead. Home sounded like heaven right now. Complete with a hot shower, some reheated pasta, and bed. She had a cat who was probably dying for attention and a glass of wine with her name on it.
“Bullshit. Get home, get sleep. I don’t want to see you for at least 16 hours. Rest, food, and a bath. You stink.”
Sylvia wasn’t going to argue with that. 10 hour deodorant was not built to handle the stress and heat of an emergency room during a full blown emergency. She did stink and her scrubs were covered in god knows what. She held her hands up, “I’m just gonna check in on 314 again.”
Rita raised one black brow and gave a ‘humph’ sort of sound, “I just bet you are…go on girl…I ain’t gonna stop ya.”
Sylvia shook her head, “It’s not like that.”
“Whatever…I gotta get home and screw the hell out of my husband before he forgets who I am.”
Sylvia doubted anyone could forget Rita. Still, Sylvia waved at her boss and headed for the elevator.
She wasn’t entirely sure why she cared so much about this particular patient. He had been out almost the entire night. She had no idea who he was or even where he was from. Sylvia assumed he was with the expo, though she couldn’t imagine a scientist with that many marks.
She stepped into the white room. A clear plastic tent had been placed over the burned area keeping his chest free of bacteria and infection. The wound had been cleaned and bandaged. X-ray’s had found that several ribs had been cracked, two broken, his ankle had been broken, not to mention all the lacerations, and bruising.
“If I hadn’t known better I’d say this man had been in a death match…but the X-Ray’s tell me he’s used to it,” the doctor had told her during her second visit upstairs.
Sylvia hadn’t asked what the doctor meant by that. The look said everything. The tattooed foreign man had all the bone markers for someone who grew up in an abusive household. Somehow, Sylvia hadn’t been surprised.
The doctor had told her that despite everything the John Doe was in excellent physical condition and that he was confident that the patient would recover. It was just going to be a matter of time.
Sylvia wanted to make sure; see it with her own eyes. She let her eyes fall away from all the bandaging to the monitors that told her his heart was beating slow and steady. He was breathing that soft shallow breath of a man deep in sleep. It was a comfort to know he was sleeping easily.
“I see now…you like bad boys.”
Sylvia didn’t need to turn around to know it was Ray talking. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Please, you’ve been coming in here every hour to check up on him.”
“Ray, you sound jealous.” Sylvia said moving forward to pull out the medical sheet attached to the end of the hospital bed. His vitals had leveled out. The John Doe was on a regiment of broad spectrum antibiotics, Naproxen, and a few others. Everything seemed okay.
“Is it the tattoo’s? Gotta be the fucking tattoos.” Ray snorted.
Sylvia pushed the chart back into it’s slot and tried very hard not to raise her voice in front of the patient. “Ray, I’ve tried to be nice. I’ve told you that I’m not interested. I feel like I have made that really clear. I’ve never tried to lead you on. I don’t understand why you think you have any right to even think about asking about anything personal.”
Ray put his hands on his hips and snorted again. Sylvia watched his pretty face contort into an ugly parody of his angelic face. “You’re so full of shit.”
“ ‘Ey…”
Sylvia and Ray both jumped as the bed occupant called out.
“Why you don’t lea’f lady alone, uh?” The voice rumbled once more. Sylvia turned and saw the John Doe starring Ray down. The tattooed man was laying out in bed; half of him bandaged up, looking like he couldn’t move, but that glare held a weight behind it. “She not interested.”
Sylvia watched Raymond take a step back. He ran his hands over his side as if trying to stuff them into pockets that weren’t there. “Fine, whatever.”
The tattooed man said nothing else. He just nodded his head and watched Ray back out of the room. Only when they both heard the echo of footfalls fade away did he turn his attention on her.
She felt his eyes scan her over. The look was similar to the way a large cat might watch a very small mouse. She shifted uneasily and looked down drawing her thumb over the medical chart.
“Thank you.”
“Welcome.” He said.
She recognized the accent now. The rolling R’s and hard enunciation of a Russian speaker. “Now that you are awake, would you mind answering a few questions?” She asked trying to put on her best business tone.
“Okay.” He started to sit up.
“Oh, no! Don’t do that,” she said moving around the bed. She placed a hand upon his shoulder and pushed him gently against the bed. “You have been badly hurt. You should still be asleep…”
“Not asleep.” He said letting her push him back. Good, at least he was listening. Sylvia wasn’t an idiot. She knew if he really wanted to sit up, her hand wasn’t going to stop him.
“So I noticed, still…you need to rest, you’ve been injured.” She said flipping open the chart, “Your ribs and ankle are…”
“No,” he said flatly. “Don’t need know. Will heal.”
She frowned. In her experience everyone wanted to know what was wrong. However, if he wasn’t ready she wasn’t going to say what’s going on. It was his body.
“Alright. Before we do anything else I need to know a few things. Name?”
“Ivan, Ivan Sokolov.”
“Spell that for me.” She asked eyes on the chart as he slowly spelled out the name. “Thank you. Date of birth?”
“October 15, 1972.”
“Alright.” She scribbled the information down. “Do you have any allergies that we should be aware of?”
“No.”
She continued on that way, asking all the normal medical questions. He answered in that rolling direct tone. No more information that exactly what she asked for. He offered no details and no extras. “Alright, Mr. Sokolov….that’s all for now. You should probably be getting back to sleep.”
He just nodded and ran his tongue along the corner of his mouth. “You are one who brought me to this room.”
“Yes…well…not just me…I thought you wouldn’t have remembered.”
He gave her a blank look that told her absolutely nothing. She was beginning to find it rather annoying.
“You said something to me…in Russian I think.”
“Oh?” he asked raising one dark brow. “What I say?”
“Uhhhh…Ti….priv….something.”
“Don’t remember,” he said tilting his head to one side. He froze mid-motion and straightening his neck back out.
“I don’t believe you.” She said trying to mimic his flat tone. “But fine, have it your way.” She moved around to one side leaning over him to adjust one of the little pads that was monitoring his vitals.
“You have bruise.” He said suddenly, seeing her wrist.
“Yes…you gave it to me.”
His eyes widened. “Did I?” He asked. His tone softer. If she had known him better she might say there was sympathy there.
“Yes, when you came in…you were in pain, you reached out and grabbed my wrist. That’s when you said what it is you said.”
“Not dream,” he responded, confirming something to himself.
“No, it wasn’t,” she said about to pull away. He grabbed her injured wrist again and held it very gently between his thumb and index finger.
“Forgive?” he asked leaning forward. Sylvia was sure he shouldn’t be doing this. It must hurt his ribs and burned shoulder like hell to move at all. But she watched him lean forward anyway and then his lips were pressed to the bruised flesh. They were warm and gentle. The kiss sent an unexpected tingle from her wrist to the rest of her entire body.
“Umm…” she said after a long moment. He looked up at her while his lips still pressed to her flesh. He smiled showing off a set of golden teeth. Sylvia usually hated grill-work. Somehow it suited the rest of him just fine.
“Better?” he asked, his voice a deep purr.
“In a way,” she said before she could stop herself. She cleared her throat and slowly pulled her arm away. “Thank you, Mr. Sokolov.”
He nodded once more and settled back against the bed. He closed his eyes and she was relieved to see him attempt to rest. She slid the file back into place and turned to leave.
“Name?” He asked suddenly. She turned and he was looking at her with one barely opened eye.
“Sylvia.”
“Sylvia, you call me Ivan.”
“Thank you...Ivan.”
*Translations-
Da- yes
Nyet- No
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The Love of Ivan