Next to last chapter! After being somewhat neglectful last week I give you two updates this week. Maybe the final chapter this weekend—although don't quote me on that. I hope that I wrote the action in this scene alright. Reviews are lovely!

Warnings: violent action scene. Not super graphic, but still.

Disclaimer: I own nothing in the MFU universe. I did buy the DVD yesterday.

There were five wolves.

Illya only had a moment to be grateful that the pack was small before von Baasch spat something in German and the pack turned on them.

He took one down with his pistol and shot another in the leg, but then they were too close and he had to concentrate on keeping the snapping, growling jaws from closing around his neck. He whipped the butt of his gun against the side of a smaller wolf's head. It fell away, yelping, but its partner took the opening Illya had left and leapt on him. They both crashed to the ground-he lost track of his gun in the struggle to keep the yellowed teeth from tearing out his windpipe.

He could hear Gaby yell in the background, and a sharp crack. His vision tunneled. He took handfuls of the wolf's fur and jerked as hard as he could, turning over quickly. Illya's hand touched cold metal and he was aiming his gun before his mind caught up with what the object was.

Gaby had taken down one wolf using a rifle she had grabbed from the jeep as a club. The small wolf that had first attacked Illya was creeping up behind her, ready to whirled, bringing the rifle back up, but Illya fired first. The shot clipped its back and it ran, tail between its legs, into the trees.

Illya scrabbled to his feet. They still had to deal with the baron.

Von Baasch was standing calmly, waiting. There was a snarl on his face that echoed that of his pets-and he had his gun pointed at Napoleon's head. Napoleon, who was on his knees and visibly trembling, but otherwise looked unharmed so far.

"I should kill you all for what you've done to my pack," the baron hissed in heavily accented English, "but I will make a deal instead. You," he gestured at Illya with his free hand, "drop the gun and back away, and I won't shoot your friend right this moment."

Illya felt a growl building in his chest. This man was just as bad as Rudy had been, and he was tired of bargaining with criminals and murderers. His grip tightened on his pistol.

"I have different plan," Illya told the man. "You put down your gun, and I won't snap your neck in two. We already have evidence of your experiments. No matter what you try, you won't get far." Von Baasch laughed, sounding like a man who had all the right cards in his hand.

"I have connections you couldn't dream of. You might have evidence, but I have money."

"Is that why all of your guards decided to pick a short sentence over loyalty to you?" Illya asked. It wasn't true-they hadn't even spoken to any of the guards. But the baron didn't know that. The other man's face twisted, and Illya could understand why the villagers were afraid of him.

"Fools. They will regret it in the end. But I tire of this game. Drop the gun, or I will shoot him." He cocked it meaningfully. Illya hesitated, but this standoff wasn't looking good. Every fiber screamed at him to get the baron away from Napoleon, but there was no way he'd be able to bring his gun up and shoot the man before he could shoot Napoleon. He tossed the gun a few feet away, teeth grinding together. The baron smiled.

"Perfect. I think I'll kill him anyway. I don't appreciate people in my business."

Illya lunged forward, heart in his throat, knowing he wouldn't be able to reach them in time.

"Don't-"

The sound of a gunshot rebounded off the rocks.

Illya froze, he and von Baasch staring at one another. Then the baron stumbled and fell heavily to the ground. Illya crossed the remaining distance and kicked the gun away from his outstretched fingers.

Gaby came up beside him, her face set in hard lines and a gun in her hand. She had dropped the rifle earlier, but von Baasch was so focused on Illya-the bigger threat-that he hadn't realized that she also had a handgun. In truth, Illya had almost forgotten it as well. His heart was still racing.

"You alright?" Illya asked her. She nodded.

"I'll keep an eye on this," she nudged the baron with her toe, "go check on Solo." She'd shot von Baasch in the chest, but he wasn't dead. Yet.

Illya turned to Napoleon. He had moved sometime in the past few minutes, although Illya hadn't registered it. He was still on the ground, but now he had his back pressed up against one of the boulders. He didn't seem to be looking at anything. Illya walked over to him.

"Cowboy?" no response. He crouched down beside the other agent, moving slowly and trying to make himself seem as non-threatening as possible. Napoleon was still shaking, and some small scratches on his face were oozing blood. His dark clothing was ripped in places, revealing more cuts and bruising, but Illya couldn't see any major damage. He reached out to pull him to his feet, but Napoleon flinched away, pressing himself harder into the rock.

There was a voice screaming in the back of Illya's head that told him to destroy whoever had done this, but he tamped down on it. Not helpful at the moment.

"Solo," he said quietly, "look at me. Come on, over here" He reached out, ignoring another flinch, and tapped his cheek. It took several long seconds, but Napoleon turned his head to stare at Illya. The Russian was pretty sure he wasn't seeing him, though. His pupils were dilated, and his eyes kept flicking to something over Illya's shoulder, even though the only thing there was Gaby and the baron.

"Illya?" Napoleon's voice was little more than a rasp. "They can't be here. They're dead."

He frowned. "Who's dead?" He didn't think he meant the wolves.

"They died...in the trenches. They shouldn't be here." Illya's eyes widened as the implication sunk in. Von Baasch had used his fear potion on Napoleon, and from what Illya knew about the American's past, he must be seeing something from his service in World War II. It couldn't be pretty. Anger rushed through him, but vengeful wrath wasn't what Napoleon needed right now.

"Come on, Cowboy," he took his arm and pulled him to his feet. Napoleon's legs buckled after a few steps, so Illya hooked an arm under his knees and hoisted him to his chest. A dark haired head rested heavily against his shoulder.

Gaby walked over. Illya raised an eyebrow in question.

"The baron's dead," she said flatly. He glanced to the still form on the ground. Good. He probably would have twisted his way out of a sentence anyway.

"Napoleon?" Gaby brushed a stray strand of hair out of his face."

"He'll be alright," Illya said, answering her unspoken question. "Let's go."

They had what they came for.

I hope you liked it! Please go vote on the poll in my profile on what MFU story you'd like to see next.