Well, three worlds are about to collide as Emily & Dave try to make their way to find help, Hotch and the team start the search & rescue, and George and Frank decide to get revenge. Nothing goes as planned for the bad guys and Emily's prayer for a miracle is answered. This is for all those who cursed me and had no faith in my ability to weave the ends in to make it all work.

Despertar

Morning hadn't even dawned when Emily and Dave started making their way back to the cabin. Dave figured that once they got there, he could notify OnStar to contact either the Sheriff's department or the FBI. If that failed, he could stay behind and Emily could get to the road and flag down help.

Emily had remembered her cell phone was in her purse, but it, like her hopes, was on it's last bar. It wouldn't have mattered anyway since they were so far in the woods, there was virtually no reception. It had taken everything she had not to throw it as far as she could and scream every bad word she knew in five different languages. At the last second she came to her senses and realized that it wasn't the phone's fault… she desperately wanted to hurt someone or something and make them hurt as bad as she felt.

It had taken everything she had to get Dave to his feet and get started. Although cognizant of his surroundings, the infection from the gunshot was starting to take its toll. Standing outside the shack, he stared up at the stars to figure out their coordinates. Northeast was their quest.

Faltering steps forward, Dave finally got his balance after a couple of minutes and they were on their way.

"So are you sure this is the right way?" Emily asked her arm slightly around Dave's waist.

"Emily Prentiss, are you questioning my knowledge of these woods?"

"Well…no," she admitted reluctantly.

"You think we should have started out yesterday."

"Yeah."

"It was a pretty good idea, and considering how bad I feel right now, it probably was something we should have done, but I didn't think it was wise to head out in lightning." His words weren't making much sense, but Emily figured as long as he talked, he would stay conscious.

"True."

"Although I think that with the way I have disappointed you on this hunting trip, you may have wanted me to walk out in the lightning."

Emily looked at him in complete shock. "Dave that thought never crossed my mind."

Dave shrugged with indifference. "You wouldn't have been the first woman to wish me hit by lightning…or something worse."

"Well, let me be the first woman to wish otherwise," she responded, her tone firm and full of truth.

Dave continued talking as though Emily hadn't spoke. "Considering some of the things my ex wives shouted at me during the divorce hearings, walking in the woods during a thunderstorm would have seemed like child's play."

"Dave, aren't you being a little dramatic?"

Dave snickered. "Funny you should say that; my ex wife--I forget which one right now--complained that I always seemed to have a flair for the dramatic."

"Perhaps you do, but it worked in your favour; you are a best selling author and speaker, and you teach a helluva interrogation class at the FBI. She was just jealous because she didn't understand you," Emily replied defensively. Her heart had constricted painfully as he confessed his deep dark secrets and she felt her temper flare. How dare them! She made a mental note and put them on the list of people she would give a peace of her mind to…once they got back home.

Home! Was there ever a more wonderful word? Nope, she told herself, as visions of a shower popped in her head. She promised never to curse smog and traffic congestion again. But at the same time, she had finally understood what it was that kept Dave coming back to the woods. The peace, the quiet, the serenity---fresh air tinged with maple and pine that wafted in soft breezes. And the stars---she had never seen stars as bright and clear as they were after the storm had moved out. She had fallen in love with the woods…and with Dave.

The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. But as she thought it thru, it all made perfect sense. Especially when she made the first move and kissed him. Or tried to before he pulled away. She wasn't sure what she had wanted him to do at that moment, but it had hurt to think that he didn't feel the same. Emily, she chastised herself, now is not the time to be thinking like a fourteen year old!

She shook her head, disgusted at herself. Regardless of how Dave did or didn't feel about her, he was still her partner and he was hurt. He was her responsibility and he was dependent on her keeping her wits and getting them to safety. But she was so hungry, and her body hurt from lying on that tiny cot, and her thoughts were jumbled from shock and fatigue.

Stopping for just a minute to get their breath and recharge, Emily felt Dave's forehead. Very warm. Not good. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a Kleenex and held it to the corner of her eyes. Pull it together Emily! Just pull it together, get Dave safe, get help, then think about all of this later, okay? She ordered herself harshly. Looking at Dave, she could see the beads of sweat on his forehead.

Determination filled her. Shoving the Kleenex into her pocket, Emily decided to stop feeling sorry for herself as the sun started to break thru the dark horizon and she realized that they probably weren't the only ones out in the woods. Tightening her grip around Dave's waist, she urged him forward. They had to keep moving.

On the far side of the woods, two other people were preparing to enter the woods. After careful consideration of the route Dave and Emily could have taken, George decided to head east. Frank had once again voiced his concern about seeking revenge and maybe heading out. The sound of a helicopter in the distance only added to the paranoia brought on by the pain and fever racking his body.

Stumbling to keep up, Frank tried to make conversation---anything to keep focused and his mind off his thigh. It had taken everything to get his jeans on that morning and go down the stairs. The night before he had swallowed a handful of Motrin to help take away the pain, but nothing seemed to help. In fact, he felt worse.

George skillfully tuned out Frank's ramblings about the helicopter and wishing he was back in jail by keeping his mind on finding and killing David Rossi. Until he found the quick bio in the back of the book, George just thought he and Frank had lost their edge. But as the realization that the guy he had nearly beat down was a best selling crime author and FBI agent, made it understandable that George would have lost the upper hand.

But George knew that the tables had turned and now he was the one in command because he had shot David Rossi. He knew that the bullet, although missing all vital organs, had found a home somewhere. When he had done a quick search after the fight, he had not come across a body. Two days out in the woods without supplies, wounded, and in the rain, George was pretty sure the expert FBI agent was in pretty bad shape and would be easy to finish off.

And his old lady? Two days ago George would have gladly hit that, but now he just wanted to finish her off along with her husband. The both of them deserved his revenge. They thought they were so smart and cunning, well, let's see how they felt as they begged for their lives before he pulled the trigger and put them out of his misery.

George's thoughts played out various scenarios of how he would take care of them once he found them. As he finally settled on a plan, he heard a noise. Looking around, he noticed that Frank was not behind him.

"Frank!" he called out in a loud whisper. "Frank, answer me. Where are you?"

A small groan was the reply. Rushing over to his fallen friend, George looked at the ashen faced Frank.

"I can't go on," Frank panted. His leg felt as though it was being stabbed with hot knives and his body was so cold. It was all he could do to lean against the tree trunk.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Get up!" George commanded.

"I can't; I can't move my legs. Let's just head back. I need a doctor. Forget about that guy."

"How do you want me to get you out of here? He has the keys."

"George, let it go. I want to turn myself in. This didn't turn out the way we planned. I want my mama." Tears ran down Frank's cheeks as he continued babbling incoherently. George felt his forehead and realized that he was burning up badly.

"Son of a bitch!" George bit out. There was no way Frank could continue. He thought about putting Frank out of his misery, but decided that death was so close, it might just be better to leave him and finish his mission.

Stripping the rifle and pistol from his friend, George patted him on the head. "It was nice knowing you Frank." Then George continued on his way.

Emily was doing what she could to keep Dave focused and conscious but she also tried to work in a little down time so they could both rest and update the strategy for their escape. She could tell that she was losing Dave with each step that passed. He was burning up and although she had found a packet of Life-savers in the bottom of her purse, it wasn't enough.

She was torn. Part of her wanted to leave Dave and try to make it out, but another part reminded her that she was only allowed one time to leave her partner behind and that chance had already been used. Besides, if the shoe was on the other foot, Dave would keep going---of course he would have probably thrown her over his shoulder, but he would have kept tracking.

Emily sighed. She very well couldn't carry Dave over her shoulder. She wasn't even sure she could drag him. What she needed was a miracle--something to make Dave want to continue until they could find help or help found them.

Popping a Life-Saver in her mouth, Emily prayed for that once in a lifetime miracle. Feeling Dave slow down, she lessened her pace when a noise caught her ear.

"Dave," she whispered. "Stop. I hear something." Straining to hear what and where the noise was coming from, Emily braced herself against Dave and reached for her pistol. Slowly the sound made its way closer. It didn't sound like footsteps.

Oh God, what if it was a bear? Were there bears in Virginia? Emily racked her brain to remember. North Carolina had the black bears, but what did Virginia have? Grizzlies? Dear God! Was her prayer for a miracle going to be a painful death at the hands of a beast known to rip car doors off in a couple of seconds?

Well, whatever happened, it would have to come thru her to get to Dave. Aiming her weapon, she waited for the pending attack and nearly jumped out of her skin as a deer walked into the clearing. Holding her breath, she watched in amazement as the animal stopped and made eye contact. Then with a single bound, it disappeared into the brush.

Emily wasn't sure what to think, but knew that wherever they were, they were definitely getting closer to the cabin. She remembered Dave telling her that there was a deer reserve a couple miles north of his place. Hallelujah! They were almost home. That was the second wind she needed as she urged Dave on.

At that same moment a dozen cars pulled up to Dave's cabin. A swarm of FBI and sheriff department personnel filed out and stood around as Hotch and his team finalized the search plan. Breaking into five groups, the mission was to find Dave and Emily, and if paths were crossed with the escaped convicts to shoot to kill.

Hotch had briefed Director Strauss via webcam with the latest update on the situation. The news that Deputy Hayes was presumed dead had left his friends feeling bewildered and vengeful. JJ had quickly calmed them down and made them remember that no matter what they were feeling at that moment, they were still all officers of the state of Virginia and had an oath to uphold the law.

JJ had gone with Sheriff Gonzalez to inform James's parents of the newest evidence. It had broken her heart when they asked if it was still possible that maybe James could still be alive. All she could do was shake her head and tell them what she knew---which was very little. Without a body, there was still hope. But a bloody fingerprint on the patrol car window, blood spatter on the interior, it was highly unlikely. The memory of James's mother wailing in grief still haunted her as she tried to empathize since she was the mother of a little boy. A little boy who was loved and cherished the same way James had been.

Before they left, James's father told her to find the men who had done this to his son. That was one promise JJ could keep.

Once Hotch laid out what they knew, Strauss let him know that the search and rescue team had a direct order from the FBI director to shoot to kill. With one person dead, and possibly more, it was not worth more lives to bring the killers in. It was apparent that they were desperate and were willing to kill to escape capture. No more innocent lives need be sacrificed.

Hotch relayed the instructions for maintaining contact and what to do should they come across survivors, victims, or criminals. A team was left at the cabin to keep watch and to gather evidence while the others broke up and took sections of the woods.

On high alert everyone made their way carefully thru the thicket of trees and bushes. Twenty minutes into the search Morgan's voice came over the radio.

"Hotch, it's Morgan. I want to let you know that we have located Deputy Hayes. From what I can tell, he's been here for a couple of days."

Hotch's face remained stoic. "Thanks Morgan. I'll let the sheriff know. For the moment, leave him there and just collect the evidence." They both knew that the people who should be removing James were his friends and colleagues.

As he relayed the news to Gonzo, and instead of being broken, he watched as the Sheriff stood taller and got a hardened look to his features. Not a word was spoken as they continued with their search. But vengeance hung in the air and Hotch knew that all the scores were going to be settled one way or the other.

"Hotch?" came the question thru his ear piece.

"What is it Reid?"

"I think we may have found something. About 100 yards due west of your location. I hear someone talking."

Hotch snapped his fingers and pointed. "I'm sending back up right now." Carefully and with purpose, Hotch and his team moved to where Reid's team was waiting. Advancing carefully, they could make out the incoherent rants and what appeared to sound like a growl. Ten feet away, Hotch made out the black figure of a dog.

"Mudgie?" he called out. The dog stopped growling long enough to glance at the person who called his name. Happy to hear a familiar voice, Mudgie's tail started wagging, but he still maintained watch over the man lying on the ground.

Quickly armed agents surrounded the scene while Hotch called the dog off. Kneeling down beside the canine, he noticed that Mudgie's coat was covered in mud, debris, and blood. Carefully he tried to avoid dog kisses while doing a quick examination to determine the extent of injury. He could feel the bullet hole as Mudgie whimpered in pain.

"Agent Hotchner," Agent Gibran called out. "I think we got one of the guys here. He's in pretty bad shape."

"Gun shot?"

"No sir, I think it's an infected dog bite. I think it's turning gangrenous. What do you want us to do?"

It took every bit of professionalism and training to not respond the way Hotch wanted, instead he directed a team to take Frank back to the cabin and call for a helicopter to meet them there. Turning to an agent, he asked that Mudgie be taken back to get medical attention too.

Easier said than done. As the agent reached for Mudgie's collar, the dog went on the defense. Hotch realized that there was no way the dog was going to part with any bit of familiarity after all the hell he had been thru, he decided to let Mudgie stay and help with the search and rescue.

Although there were more than enough eyes to try and find Dave and Emily, Mudgie had the one thing that made him superior to even the most skilled agent: a keen sense of smell. Hotch thanked his lucky stars that something right had finally happened.

Now all they needed was one more miracle before it was too late.