Some re-writing and tweaking to this chapter. I wanted to explore a little bit more or Irina's feelings about what was happening and change up the ending a little.

Irina looked around at the three people who were all looking at her intently. Gaby and Illya sitting side by side and Napoleon who had returned to the couch that she had vacated and sat down rather heavily.

Something was tickling the back of her mind. Something about what she saw when Napoleon took her hand and turned her around. Something about the fact that she was staring straight at his shoulder, her eyes exactly on the level with his wound...her eyes were where the sniper's bullet entered...The realization hit her so hard she gasped and her hand came to her mouth. The bullet hitting Napoleon was not a fortunate coincidence that the bullet entered his shoulder. She was now certain that Napoleon either saw or, at least, sensed something and stepped in front of that bullet; the bullet that would have killed her...he had saved her life. "Napoleon," she whispered, looking directly at him daring him to deny what she knew was the truth. "You took that bullet, Napoleon," she whispered. "It was not an accident. You saw something and you protected me...You saved my life," she paused, still grappling with the enormity of it, "You saved my life...and you risked your life to do it...Why?"

She was not sure, but she thought that she detected the slightest flush crawl up from Napoleon's neck and add color to his pale cheeks and his eyes softened a trifle. He looked at this injured shoulder, "This is preferable to what Peril would have done to me if anything had happened to you." He had tried to make a joke; to treat the situation lightly, but his voice caught slightly at the thought of seeing this young woman come to harm.

Irina's hand still tingled from where Napoleon had touched it. How could one simple touch, have affected her so much? Why would somebody she had just met, risk his life for her - somebody who meant nothing to him. Her feeling roiled and mixed with fear into a morass and she was struggling to think through it.

Irina looked at the man on the couch carefully and what she saw worried her. His face was drawn and pale with a fine sheen of sweat. When she stood next to him, she felt heat radiating from his body; he was running a fever. Irina knew that she was as proficient in first aid as any other field agent, but she was no doctor. Perhaps she had done or not done something that had made Napoleon's condition worse. Her heart contracted in sympathy when she saw him shift his weight and cringe at the obvious pain the movement caused him.

Kuryakin was watching the interaction with a quickly-dawning realization. "Cowboy," he started to say. When Solo's eyes met his, he did not know what to say. "Thank you," he said simply and was rewarded with the slightest of nods.

Gaby had been watching and she cleared her throat, shattering the uncomfortable, fraught silence. "Irina," she said quietly. "You were saying."

Grateful to get back on task, although terrified by the realizations that were streaming through her brain, Irina took a deep breath. "Or rather, I had not thought of anybody until just now," she said in a more business-like tone. This kind of problem solving is what she was trained for. She went to Kuryakin and handed him a small cloth that had been stained with blood. "With everything happening so fast," she said with a side glance at Solo, "I had forgotten about this." Kuryakin carefully unwrapped the item, studied it for a full minute, before looking up again. Irina nodded. "That caliber is used in a Dragunov Sniper Rifle…it could be for something else, of course, but under the circumstances…," she trailed off. Staring at it again, she shuddered. That had been meant for her. If Napoleon had not interfered…she would not be here to worry about who was hunting her.

Kuryakin nodded agreement. "That is the most likely weapon." He looked at the confused faces of his partners. "It is a Spetsnaz Sniper rifle. Very specialized." He looked up at his sister, "And very accurate." Irina nodded once, every agent was familiar with the entire Russian arsenal, but while she knew the gun and could easily identify its profile, she had never even touched one. "Ashenko was a sniper in the Army," Kuryakin said quietly. "It was one of the few things he was good at."

Irina nodded. "He boasted about his skill all the time." She considered and said softly, "I do not understand why he wants me dead so much that he would do it himself. There is nothing I can do to him…I pose no real threat."

Solo was trying to think, but it was getting harder and harder to fight the fog of pain and exhaustion. "He did have you sent to the Gulag. For some reason he thinks there is some way that you can harm him."

Kuryakin was sitting quietly, thinking. He then looked up and shook his head. "I do not think so, Cowboy," he said, shaking his head. "Irina," he said. "When you think of Ashenko, what do you think of? What is the first thing you think of?"

Irina chewed her lip, thinking. "Arrogant...and...paranoid," she said with certainty. He was as paranoid as Stalin."

"Yes," Kuryakin nodded agreement. His face then changed as he looked into his sister's eyes. "When you were in the...," he stumbled, not being able to say the word. "What did they do while you were a prisoner?"

Irina looked down, choosing her words carefully. "They tor...," she saw her brother flinch – a movement so slight only she saw it. "They questioned me," she amended.

Kuryakin continued pressing. "How many people?"

"Ten...sometimes fifteen or more."

"Would Ashenko ever trust that many people with information? Had he ever given information to more than one or two people? To his inner circle?"

"No...," Irina did not know what else to say.

"Somebody contacted me to tell me you were in the Gulag," Kuryakin continued. "That does not sound like Ashenko."

"No," Irina said. "He would not."

"Irinachka. They took you. The KGB took you for another reason. To make sure I knew they still controlled me." His face fell as he looked into her eyes. "I am so...,"

Irina cut him off. "Let those bastards apologize...and explain what they wanted from me...If it was only to send you a message, why spend the time questioning me. Why did they keep asking me about my missions and if I knew where Ashenko was." The words were just out of her mouth. "Ilya..."

Kuryakin was nodding.

"Would you two like to let the rest of us in on this," Solo asked waspishly.

Kuryakin and Irina exchanged a look and Kuryakin spoke. "Ashenko has gone rogue. He is hunting Irina and the KGB is hunting him."

Solo was trying to follow the conversation between the brother and sister, but the fog enveloping his brain was making it harder and harder. His shoulder ached terribly and now the throbbing in his arm was echoed by the throbbing in his head. Although, it was a warm afternoon, he found himself shivering and cold.

Solo was struggling to have a coherent thought, but after a while, he was able to determine that, since he was cold, he needed either a shirt or a blanket. He tried to rise from the couch, but found, to his surprise that it was very difficult – he did not have the strength to push himself up. With an extra effort, he managed to leverage himself up. When he stood up, swaying slightly, he realized that Irina, Gaby, and Kuryakin were all looking at him. That was the last coherent thought he had as his knees buckled and his world went black.

What do you think? Out of the frying pan and into the fire for Irina. What do you think? Moving into some territory that is different from the movie, but hopefully it still makes sense and all this still works for you. Please let me know what you think. If there is something that you would like to see or some thoughts or recommendations, please let me know. Thank you for sticking with me.