Author's notes: I really expected I'd only have one more chapter, but it got wordy - I got wordy - so I'm posting this part now. Still...almost there. Hope folks enjoy and if you do please let me know.

Part 10

The conference room at the Reno sheriff's office was filled to capacity with a dozen officers, four helicopter pilots and the five remaining members of the BAU. All eyes were focused on Garcia as she started projecting images from her laptop onto a portable screen.

She quickly outlined the layout of the facility and the known security conditions, providing the exact coordinates to the pilots. She then turned the meeting back to Hotchner.

"Our team will be on the first chopper in," Aaron explained. "We will set small charges on the northern entrance to remove the door, then proceed immediately to the living quarters and main tech room to secure the facility. We need to assume the occupants are armed and dangerous, so proceed with caution. Team Two is to land next to our helicopter and follow us into the facility. Team Three is to land here," he said, indicating a western side of the facility. "There is an emergency exit located there, and your job is to ensure no one escapes. Similarly, Team Four is to cover the southern exit. Any questions?" he asked.

"Do you think they have any 'hired muscle' there?" a deputy asked from near the back of the room.

"Given what we know of the unsubs' physical prowess, that is highly likely. For our own safety, we should assume so. However, we want to make every effort to not use deadly force. Our ultimate goal is to extract the unsubs and any hostages they may still have with no loss of life. We don't want this turning into a situation where the unsubs use the hostages as protection," he added grimly.

"You don't want us going in the west or south entrances?" a different officer asked.

"No, your task is to prevent any unsubs from escaping. If we have people coming in from three directions, it may cause more confusion than anything else. We have no idea how many people are in there. Could just be the three owners, or it could be over a hundred people. Until we know the scope of the situation, we need to limit the confusion."

Giving a moment to allow for further questions, Hotch continued. "Garcia, you will be coming in with Team Two, you are to remain with a deputy outside the facility until the all clear is given," he advised her.

Penelope's face paled a bit as her mouth fell open. "I…I….me? You want me there?" she asked in confusion.

"From what you reported, there is a lot of technology being used to run the place. You're our best bet at figuring it out," he explained.

"I understand, yes Sir."

"We have decided on a strike time of 3:00 a.m., when it is most likely that the residents will be asleep, so I advise all of you to go have a meal, get some rest. We will meet at the airport at 2. And thank you, all," Hotch said sincerely, nodding his thanks to various people as they headed out to take his advice. With only his team left in the room, he turned to them with a sigh.

"We need to take the same advice," he noted, indicating the door. "Dinner, then some rest."

CMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCM

Penelope reclined on her bed, dressed in her black pants and dark top, her hair bundled into a neat ponytail, and her vest waiting on the chair beside the door. She knew sleep would be impossible, but she still tried to relax. But worry about her favorite non romantic boyfriend, the man who always seemed to 'get' her, no matter what, filled her mind and body with unease.

Then there was the memory of what went down the last time she was in 'the field'. She'd shot a man, something that still horrified her. Oh, sure, it was to protect an injured Spencer, and it saved both their lives, but still….she'd shot a man. SHOT him. With a gun. On purpose. And the man she shot had ended up being executed. Well, technically not her fault, and she'd done all she could to prevent it. All to no avail: he'd died as scheduled, and she'd been there to see it happen.

She turned to her side, reaching for a stuffed unicorn that sat on her bedside table. She always tossed Hubert in her luggage when she traveled to a case. The small toy had been given to her by her mother when Penelope was twelve. By chance she had read 'The Last Unicorn', and young Garcia had fallen in love with the mythical beasts. The idea of them being able to exist, unchanging and unsullied, in an ever changing world appealed to the child. She swore she'd be like a unicorn, and not let the things that happened in life make her forget who and what she meant to be.

Of course, tragedy – in the form of her parent's deaths – and time had proven the futility of that idea, but still, she clung to Hubert as a talisman against the evil that bombarded them daily. And she still tried to be like the unicorn in the book, who told Schmendrick that unicorns never regretted. They could sorrow, but that wasn't the same thing.

JJ hung up the phone, a small smile still playing around her lips. She'd called her 'boys' at home, and enjoyed a spirited report of their day. Henry was growing so fast! And every day it seemed she missed something. He'd innocently asked about his godfather, and JJ didn't flinch as she lied that Spencer sent his love and looked forward to seeing him soon.

With Will, however, she could tell him the truth, and she appreciated his attempts to buoy her spirits. It helped that she knew Will genuinely liked Derek and Spencer, and he respected her fellow agents' abilities and resourcefulness. Still, the truth was, they really didn't know if the unsubs were keeping the people taken alive or not. It might end up with them finding their friends in a shallow grave.

Pushing the disturbing thoughts aside, JJ settled on her side, checking the alarm was properly set, and began the deep breathing exercises she'd learned when struggling with morning sickness years ago. She'd found it also helped bring sleep, when that seemed an impossible task.

Kate clicked through the dozen channels their motel provided, finally settling on an episode of "Friends" to while away thirty minutes, at least. She might be new to the team, but she'd quickly grown fond of her coworkers, and Derek and Spencer in particular. Derek, with his mercurial changes in manner: grinning prankster to tormented profiler deeply empathizing with the victims. The man had a depth often overlooked when confronted by his good looks and easy charm.

As for Spencer, she felt his welcome from even before she was hired, and she couldn't help but like the gangly, nerdy genius, who didn't even seem to realize how handsome he was. Never noticed the admiring glances from assorted women, wherever they went. Just thinking of his clueless meandering through social situations brought a smile to her face.

She absently checked her gun, shield and vest, anxious to get going and rescue her coworkers. Her new friends.

Aaron had called Jack, enjoying his grumbling about tests in school and soccer practice. But, then he'd reported that Beth had come by and taken him and his aunt out to dinner, which he'd enjoyed a lot, since he was allowed to order whatever he wanted. And he'd wanted a steak with French fries and no broccoli. And two scoops of chocolate ice cream for dessert. Hotch made a mental note to thank his girlfriend for her generosity.

Hanging up the phone at last, the team leader picked up the thick file, filled with Garcia's research and assorted other information, and began to read it through again, making sure nothing had been missed.

He knew full well his missing agents' lives, as well as the lives of the rest of the team and a dozen deputies, depended on it.

Rossi opened his own file, not filled with case notes, but with the latest chapters of his new book. He still preferred to do his proof reading on paper, and with that intention, took out the requisite red pen and began to read. But within moments, he realized he couldn't do it. The chapter dealt with a long ago case that went very wrong. He had completely believed that they would find the missing brothers, ages ten and eight, alive. The evidence had been that the unsub kept the children alive for five to eight days, and it was only day three. But when they got there, they found the unsub in a hidden room off his basement. Along with the bodies of the two boys, who had been tortured to death.

His mind, blessed with an all too vivid imagination, easily superimposed Derek Morgan's face on the elder brother, who had bled out internally from a ruptured spleen. The younger brother became a smaller version of Spencer Reid, dead as a result of electric shock.

Groaning, Rossi tossed the file back in his suitcase, and looked longingly at the bottle on the dresser. But that wasn't going to happen, not with him going out in the field in a few hours. Normally he despised television, but there was little else to distract him, so he turned it on, eventually settling on a HBO special about the prostitute trade in Nevada. Appreciating the irony of it, he settled in to watch, anxious for it to be time to go.

CMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCM

Outside Winnemucca Ronnie Calloway shut down his computer, stretching out his stiffened muscles. He was the 'night owl' of them. William rarely made it more than an hour or two past dinner, and Dylan was usually gone by midnight. But Ronnie was often up and about until two or three in the morning. It was now 2:16, and the facility was quiet and peaceful. He slipped out of the room and padded quietly down to the kitchen, where he found his stash of fudgesicles. Happily grabbing the icy treat, he headed back, shutting down the lights in the main room and entering his quarters.

Fifteen minutes later the last light in the facility darkened, even as in Reno the teams were preparing to head out.

CMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCM

"You, Deputy McCay," Hotch said, singling out a young deputy. "I want you in charge of Ms. Garcia," he ordered.

At his side, Rossi noted the name and had to ask. "Are you related to Judge McCay?"

"Yes sir, she's my aunt. Is she the one who signed the warrant?"

"Indeed."

"McCay," Hotch barked, getting the young man's attention. "Ms. Garcia will be unarmed, so it is your job to protect her. If things go bad, it's your duty to get her to safety and keep her safe. Understood?"

"Absolutely, sir. And if things go well, I don't bring her inside until you give the all clear, correct?"

"Yes. Good, you understand your orders. Go join Team Two," Hotch confirmed, checking his notes.

Each team had been assigned and briefed. The pilots had been ordered to drop their team, then fly to a specified area outside the fences, thus eliminating the possibility of an unsub getting control of one. They were all wired for communication and the system had checked out perfectly. Everyone was in a vest, emblazoned with their organization's identity, and everyone was armed – except Garcia – and carrying extra ammunition.

They were prepared for the worst and hoping for the best.

Everyone was hyper aware and ready, and Hotch knew they were as ready as they were going to get. They'd assembled in a conference room at the airport, and were now standing in four distinct groupings.

Aaron took one last look around, then gave the order.

"Let's head out."

CMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCM

Brian Smithers was a light sleeper: a lifetime of living on the wrong side of the law had ingrained that in him. This past year had been the easiest he'd ever had it. "Bodyguard" to three spineless geeks, and controlling 60-70 prisoners who could be taken down with a simple press of a button. Oh, and the weekly grocery runs. For all that he'd pulled in over a hundred grand. Plus said geeks had provided him with a computer and access to the wonderful world of online porn. As close to heaven as the thirty three year old had ever gotten.

Still, he was a realist, he knew it would take very little to kill this particular sweet deal, and he'd carefully arranged for that eventuality. He had no illusions regarding his employers' loyalty: if an authority looked at them cross ways they'd spill their guts. And he'd be the first thing given up. So he did what he had always had to do: plan for disaster.

When he awoke, instantly and fully aware, and recognized the sound of distant helicopters he threw on his clothing and grabbed his .38, hurrying with surprising stealth for so large a man. He knew the corridors of the facility like the back of his hand, and had no problem getting to the south exit, turning at the last moment at the distant sound of an explosion. Sounded like the cavalry had blasted the front door. Well, good luck to the cowardly trio, he'd be in Nebraska before the authorities knew who to look for.

To be continued