A/N: Another short chapter but it has plenty of action. Standard disclaimer and all that lot. I'm sorry for any mistakes. I tried to catch them all, but I'm sure some got by me. Thank you for reading!

The blast shattered the stairwell, throwing Lanka, Serge, and Elizabeth into the wall at the bottom. As the debris rained around them and the heat stole the oxygen from their lungs, Lanka struggled to her feet, her head throbbing and her ears ringing. She couldn't hear Elizabeth yelling for Neal or Serge shouting as he used the wall to pull himself up. She was paralyzed by the wall of flames growing in front of them, thrown back to another time of smoke and fire and ash.

She caught sight of Sofia, screaming and crying thick tracks down smoke-stained cheeks, clinging to Neal even as she screamed for Lanka. The image shifted and now she saw Sofia five years younger, her tiny face struck with the same terror, the same helplessness, wrapped in Nadya's arms as the flames surrounded them.

"No!" Lanka screamed, terror of past and present colliding in her chest, "Nadya! Sofia!"

"Lanka, snap out of it!" Serge yelled, shaking her shoulder. But Lanka was too far gone, sobbing Nadya's name over and over again.

"Neal," Elizabeth screamed, "You have to get out of there."

From behind the flames, Neal stumbled up to the middle of the stairs. Coughing and trying to shield Sofia from the heat, he waved them back.

"Go," he yelled, "We'll find another way out."

"Neal, we can't leave you!" Elizabeth protested.

The stairwell groaned a moment before a chunk of the ceiling gave way and collapsed between them. Serge yanked Elizabeth out of the way, narrowly avoiding being crushed himself. Neal waved at them frantically.

"Serge, get them out of here!"

Knowing there was no other choice, Serge reluctantly pushed Elizabeth to the stairs and grabbed Lanka around the waist. As she was pulled away from Sofia, Lanka suddenly came alive, struggling like her life depended on it.

"No! Sofia! Let me go! Pozhaluysta, dayte mne umeret' vmeste s nimi!"

But Serge, despite the pain and blood loss, refused to give in to her tearful pleas and pulled her down the stairs and out of the building. His knees gave out as soon as they cleared the doorway. Lanka fell to her hands and knees, sobbing in Russian as Elizabeth rushed to Serge's side and pressed her hands against his wound.

"Lanka," Elizabeth called, "What do we do? Lanka?"

Serge groaned, fighting against the pain to stay awake, and reached for Lanka, his hand falling just inches short of her wrist.

"Lanka!"

But Lanka couldn't hear them. She could only hear the crackling of the flames and the dying screams of Nadya.

"Prosti," she sobbed, "Prosti. Prosti menya, sestra."

Inna sighed as she read Dmitri's text, giving her the time and address of Tyen's home. Not that she needed that. They'd known where Tyen lived for the past six months. But they couldn't just stride up to the front door, ring the bell, and walk right in. They needed access, and now they had it.

It was so close to being over.

"How exactly is this going to work?" Peter asked from his side of the car, "How do you know Tyen won't kill Neal on sight?"

"Tyen has had this grudge for many years," Inna answered, "and he is not a nice man. He will want Mr. Caffrey to suffer and he will want to watch. But he will not have the chance."

Peter regarded her with an observant eye, "You plan to kill him."

"Did you think otherwise?"

"I can't be a part of this," Peter said shaking his head, "This is murder."

"What you call murder," Inna said softly, "others will call justice."

He glared at her, "It's murder. You are planning to kill a man. How is that anything else?"

Inna turned her face to the passing amber glow of the street lights and watched the slight drizzle of rain run down her window, "There was a man named Nikolai Kasyanov. He was a decorated war hero. When he returned home on leave to visit his mother, a 73 year old widow who ran a grocery store, he discovered that she was being pressured by Tyen to pay protection money. She was struggling, barely having enough to pay for bread. Nikolai was furious and the next time Tyen's men came for money, he refused and forced them out. He thought he'd won, he thought he'd protected his mother and everything he loved. But the morning he left to return to duty, Tyen attacked."

Inna turned to Peter, determinedly meeting his eyes, "He and his men spent two hours at the shop. They cut off every one of Nikolai's toes and fingers, sliced his flesh with hundreds of cuts and let him bleed out on the floor of his mother's store. And right before he died, Tyen slit the mother's throat in front of Nikolai. And then he burnt the store to the ground, but not before he sealed the bodies in the freezer as a warning to anyone who dared to disobey him."

Peter swallowed hard, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and fighting the bile rising in the back of his throat. The imagery alone made him want to throw up.

"That is only one account of what this man has done," Inna whispered harshly, "That is only one family he as murdered, maimed, or mutilated. So tell me, Agent Burke, do you think Nikolai Kasyanov would consider Tyen's death murder or justice?"

"It's horrible," Peter conceded, "but killing him only makes you like him."

"Do you let a rabid dog roam the streets?"

Peter shook his head, "You're over simplifying this."

"You are one to talk," Inna scoffed, "Every day, you over simplify the world. There are good and bad, cop and criminal, angel and demon."

"Saint and sinner," Peter said, remembering her earlier words, "So because he is worse than you, that makes him the demon and you the angel?"

She shrugged, "Your words. We do not see ourselves as angels, only soldiers."

Peter ran his hand over his face, "Yeah, you don't look like a bunch of angels."

"People see angels as little children flying on white clouds or as beautiful women with their arms opened wide. They often forget that in the Bible, they are portrayed as very different beings."

"How's that?"

Inna met his eyes, "As soldiers. Warriors. They battled, carried out God's will. Destroyed the evil and demons."

Peter frowned, but as he was about to speak, Mikhail suddenly slammed on the brakes, swearing under his breath. Inna slammed into his seat, letting lose her own string of curses.

"Mikhail-"

"Inna, the building."

It was burning. The world around them was lit by its hungry flames, leaking out from every window, blocking the door way, reaching for the sky. Inna tore out of the car like the devil himself were on her heels and ran for the building.

"Inna! Over here!"

She veered her course to the left where Elizabeth was waving her over. Serge was propped against the wall of a neighboring building, bleeding profusely from a shoulder wound and far too pale. Elizabeth had her arms around Lanka who was sobbing and cradling her left arm.

"What happened?" Inna demanded as she fell in front of them.

Elizabeth let go of Lanka, latching on to Peter, "We were attacked. We just got out. Oh, God-"

"Where's Neal?" Peter demanded.

"Sofia," Inna breathed out, "Where is Sofia?"

"They were caught on the second floor," Elizabeth said, barely holding back sobs of her own, "We couldn't get to them."

Inna was already running for the building. Mikhail grabbed her arms, pulling her back as she frantically fought to get away.

"Inna, you can't," he yelled.

"No, I must get to her," Inna screamed.

"It's too late," he shouted. She stilled in his arms, going still as death. Mikhail wrapped both arms around her and dropped his head to her shoulder, saying softly, "It's too late. I'm sorry."

"Nyet," Inna moaned, "Nyet."

Sofia couldn't breathe. It was just like last time. The smoke was so thick that it felt like water choking her lungs, blocking and burning her throat. She buried her face in Neal's shoulder and clung to his neck as he crawled with one hand to the back of the second floor. The fire surrounded them, eating at the walls and burning everything it touched.

"It's okay, Sofia," Neal coughed, panting with exertion and effort, "We're going to be fine."

Sofia whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut as fire rolled across the ceiling through the thick cloud of smoke that hovered above them. She remembered the last time. She remembered how her mother had held her close, whispered in her ear that everything would be fine, that it would be over soon. But she'd lied. Everything was not fine.

They reached the windows and Neal jimmied it open with a heavy grunt. A wave of fresh air hit them, causing Sofia to cough and hack as her lungs tried to dispel the black smoke marring them. Neal leaned over the window sill, coughing right beside her.

It was so far down. She shuddered and pressed back against Neal's chest.

"What are we going to do?" she whimpered.

Neal kissed her forehead and looked her in the eyes, "Do you trust me?"

Sofia nodded without hesitation and didn't protest as he sat her on the window. She looked down, closed her eyes as more tears threatened to fall, and tried not to sob. Neal wiped the tears away with his thumb and held out his open palm. Sofia gave a small smile as she took the coin from him.

"There's that magic," he whispered and kissed her forehead, and then he dropped her out the window.

Sofia couldn't help the scream that flew from her mouth as she dangled from his hands against the rough brick of the building. Terrified, she glanced down at the concrete and screamed again.

"Sofia, stop kicking. It's okay. I've got you. Look up at me."

She tore her eyes away and obeyed, locking eyes with Neal. Smoke curled out of the window above him, swirling into the dark sky. He tried to smile but it had a grisly affect against his smoke smudged face.

"You're going to be fine," he panted, "I promise."

"Neal, I'm scared."

"It's okay. I'm scared to," he grunted, hissing as something inside the building hurt him, "but it's going to be fine. We're going to do a magic trick now. Alright?"

Sobbing, Sofia nodded.

"I'm going to make you fly," he said, smirking, "You ready?"

"Neal, I don't want to-"

"Trust me, Sofia."

And because she did, despite only meeting him a few hours before, Sofia nodded and closed her eyes. And when Neal let go of her hands, she didn't even scream.

Inna was still wrapped in Mikhail's arms, pleading with him and God to let her reach Sofia, when she appeared from the alley.

"Inna!"

At first, Inna didn't dare believe her eyes, believing she was only seeing what she wanted to and not what was possible. But there was Sofia, nearly black from smoke, dressed in a thin tattered and torn pink night shirt that reached her ankles. Her tangled blonde hair flew around her as she ran, stumbling barefoot over the rocks and trash.

Mikhail finally let her go and Inna dropped her kneels, enveloping Sofia in her arms and swearing to never let her go again. Sobbing, Sofia buried her face in Inna's shoulder, mumbling something Inna couldn't understand. It was unimportant. The little girl was alive and that was all that mattered.

Then Sofia pulled away, her eyes still full of tears but now a blaze with determination.

"Neal's still inside," she said, pointing behind her, "He's at that window."

"How did you get out?" Inna asked.

"Neal dropped me in the dumpster," Sofia said impatiently, "You have to get him, Inna. He saved me. Please."

Inna nodded, "Go to Lanka."

Sofia didn't wait, but ran to Lanka and Elizabeth. Peter moved forward, but Inna waved him away, ordering him to stay with the girls and Serge as she and Mikhail took off for the alley.

"Up here!"

Neal sat perched on the window sill of the middle window. He clung to the frame, but Inna could see the fire burning just inside, so close it nearly touched him.

"Der'mo," Mikhail muttered under his breath.

"Any suggestions?" Neal yelled.

Something inside the building exploded.

"You must jump," Inna shouted, "Jump into the dumpster."

"You gotta move it back," Neal pointed to where the dumpster had rolled away after he'd dropped Sofia into it, "I can't make it from here."

Mikhail quickly ran to the half-empty dumpster, rolling it back along side the wall. Inna looked up, intent on telling Neal to jump, jump now, when a second larger explosion shook the building.

And Neal fell.

With a half-choked yell, he tumbled out of the window, clawing at the air for a purchase, but coming up empty handed. Smoke and fire billowed out of the window in his wake, and the building groaned and shifted. It was collapsing, finally giving in to the damage wrought to its insides.

"Mikhail, grab him!"

Mikhail was already reaching into the dumpster and hauling a semi-conscious Neal out of it. Blood dribbled down the side of his face, whether from his old wound or a new one, Inna couldn't tell. They didn't have time to find out. The building was coming down.

They ran from the alley, dodging flaming debris and shouting for their comrades. Peter was already behind the wheel of the car, screaming for them to hurry. Above the clamor of the falling building, Inna could hear the wails of sirens in the distance. They crammed into the back of the car next to Lanka and Sofia. In the front, Serge was wedged between Elizabeth and Peter, his head hanging limply against his chest.

"Drive," Inna ordered, "Go, now."

With a quick glance at Neal, Peter obeyed. Inna turned to Mikhail.

"Is he alive?" she whispered.

Mikhail nodded, cradling Neal carefully, "But I am not certain of his injuries."

Grimly, Inna nodded and turned to watch as the building they had once called their home became nothing but smoldering ash.

A/N: The next chapter will explain who Nadya is, though most of you have probably figured that out by now. There should only be a few chapters left, but if your worried that this is the last of the whump for Neal, put your worries to rest. There will be more whump. Much more.

Pozhaluysta, dayte mne umeret' vmeste s nimi- Please, let me die with them

Prosti- I'm sorry

Prosti meny, sestra- Forgive me, sister

Der'mo- shit