Lizzie woke up to the sound of the door getting slammed shut and a lot of frantic voices speaking at once. She pushed herself off the bed and dragged herself out of the room to see Napoleon and Illya going head to head, looking like they were going to bite each other's heads off.

"And I'm telling you that you're stupid. You, go to Volgograd alone?" Napoleon goaded Illya.

"You do not have business there anymore, cowboy," the Russian snapped at him. Lizzie glanced to her side to see an irritated Gaby. "What is going on?" Lizzie stepped up.

The two men turned to her, Napoleon's pissed off expression morphed to his professional face, while Illya still looked pissed. At his feet was a traveling bag.

"UNCLE alerted us a few moments ago," Napoleon turned to Lizzie, "that your house in Volgograd was bombed."

She had to sit down as the American and her brother filled her in with the details. The bombers were unidentified, and the agents guarding the house were also killed. KGB has started the investigation, but asked UNCLE to take over. It was, after all, a personal attack to the Kuryakins. Illya was furious.

"The KGB has no idea who bombed the house?" Napoleon was leaning his head on his pointer finger, his elbow on the arm rest. His Russian comrade shook his head grimly.

It was just the four of them, Napoleon, Illya, Gaby and Lizzie, in the shared apartment UNCLE so kindly offered them. The three of them took some time to calm Illya down, who was shaking with anger and was close to jumping into a plane back to Volgograd. Lizzie sat on a one-sitter, Gaby on one of its arm rests, an arm wrapped around Lizzie's shoulders. Across them, the two men were wound tight, planning their next move.

"But," Illya started, "I have an idea who."

"Who?" Gaby sighed, exasperated. She knew what Illya was thinking. She wasn't in the meeting the men had the last time, but they gladly filled her in. "The Bolsheviks?"

Illya didn't answer.

"That's stupid, Illya," Lizzie said in a small voice, looking at her brother. "What is their motive?"

Napoleon shook his head. No one knows. "As far as we know, the Bolsheviks aren't even behind this."

"Sergeyev is our only lead!" the Russian snarled at him.

"So what do we do?" Lizzie shrugged her shoulders, "Attack him in his home, put bullets in his head?"

"We don't have enough intel," she and Gaby said together. Napoleon nodded, eyeing Illya as if to say "See? The girls are on my side."

"There's no 'We'. You're not going," Illya snapped at them, narrowing his eyes on his sister.

Lizzie ignored his comment, "What do you propose we do? Break into KGB, steal the Bolsheviks files and find out their reason for this?"

Illya and Napoleon said nothing, exchanging glances at each other.

"Gaby," Lizzie called, eyeing Gaby who was reading a book from across her, "Have you…have you seen your files here in UNCLE?"

"Hmm," Gaby didn't look from her book, "No, but I was aware that I have a file here."

Lizzie nodded slowly, "So, does Illya and Napoleon have a file here too?"

"Hmm."

"And…me?"

Gaby turned to look at her, narrowing her eyes at Lizzie, "I think so, yes. Why do you ask this?"

Lizzie moved to sit on Gaby's bed, whispering conspiratorially, "I looked for my files in the Archives." Gaby's eyes widened in surprise, leaning close to Lizzie, "And?"

"I found nothing," Lizzie shook her head dejectedly. "I was hoping you'd know the location of my file. Just to know what they've put."

Gaby looked down, thinking. Then, looking up, she nodded, smiling softly, "I'll help you look."

The younger Kuryakin, surprised, shrieked and threw her arms around Gaby. "моя любовь! (My love!) Thank you so much!"

Gaby shushed her as she hugged the girl back, laughing.

"The Statue of Liberty, or La Liberté éclairant le monde, is a colossal neoclassical sculpture designed by Frédéric Auguste Bartholdi, a French sculptor and was built by Gustave Eiffel and dedicated to the United States on October 28, 1886 from the people of France."

Illya rolled his eyes as Napoleon extended his hand out to the statue, smiling proudly. It was four in the afternoon, the four strolling around Manhattan, Napoleon eagerly pulled them to see the Statue. They remained stressed, but Napoleon insisted that an afternoon of sight seeing wouldn't hurt.

"Very technical," Gaby praised, nodding, "Where did you get it?" Lizzie was trying not to smile beside her.

Napoleon smiled, acting confused, "I don't see what you mean."

"He got it from brochure," Illya held up his hold of Napoleon's wrist, showing them the brochure about the Statue of Liberty. Smirking, he nodded to the statue again, "The statue is Libertas, the Roman goddess bearing a torch and a tablet evoking the law, upon which is written the date of the American Declaration of Independence. July 4, 1776. A broken chain lies at her feet," he said, pointing to the design. "The statue is an icon of freedom and of the United States, and a welcoming sight to immigrants arriving from abroad."

"This came from the brochure as well," Lizzie teased her brother.

"No, it came from research and my perfect recall." Illya smiled at her.

Soon, Gaby was growing hungry and the four of them decided to stroll around to look for a place to have dinner. Napoleon and Gaby were still talking about the statue's design and symbolism. Illya and Lizzie followed behind them.

"Are you alright?" Illya wrapped a hand on his sister's arm, noticing her sweating hard.

"I am, brother," Lizzie reassured, "I'm still trying to…get used to the weather."

"Not very cold for you?" he smiled. Lizzie shook her head, smiling back. "No."

Just then, someone bumped into Lizzie, causing her to stumble. Illya caught her in time.

"Hey, you!" He called out to the person. "It's alright, Illya," Lizzie reassured him.

The man turned partially, mumbled an apology and rushed off. Illya's eyes widened in surprise.

Napoleon and Gaby turned to look at them curiously. "What's going on?" Gaby asked. Lizzie told her, reassuring Gaby that she was indeed, alright. She turned to Napoleon, who was watching Illya intently. "What's wrong?" Napoleon nodded to Illya's hand.

It was shaking.

Lizzie immediately placed her hands on each of Illya's upper arms, consoling him, telling him to calm down and talk to her.

"That man," Illya started, as he was taking deep breaths to calm himself down, "I know him. He's Mikhail Kostin."

"Alright," Lizzie nodded slowly, hands still on her brother, "What's wrong with him, Illya?" She was talking to him slowly, taking the same deep breaths as her brother, trying to prevent another psychotic episode from happening.

"He is a Bolshevik. Mikhail Kostin."

"What is he doing here?" Napoleon asked, alarmed.

"Indeed." Illya asked. "He should be in Gulag. I put him there."

This is kind of short and idk? I wanted to add some Nazzie stuff but I figured meh maybe next chapter. Anyway, thank you for all the support, I love all the reviews. Also, writing Gaby and Lizzie makes me want to ship them. Ha.

Stefanie: Thank you for the very long and detailed reviews! I appreciate them and they help me see clearly on how I want this story to go.

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meowma1: Thanks for the reviews my friend! You inspire me, truly.

And to everyone else (Darren, Guest, danielmadcliffe, C.B. Weasley, Guest46, bookangel1624 and Guest#2): Thank you!

(And to all who followed and favorited and took the time to read this fic).

Let me know your thoughts. I'll try to update sooner.