"They're not dead, are they?"

"What?"

"They're not dead."

Cruz kept his eyes on the road while his heart beat wildly in his chest. This man was the one Cramer had sent to bring back confirmation that the BAU team had been killed and no longer a threat to him or his plans. Everything hinged on his report. Cramer trusted this man enough to accept his word and no other confirmation.

"What are you talking about? Didn't you just see that house go up in flames? Nobody could have survived that!"

"I'm not stupid. Why did you make me stay in the hallway instead of going in the room with you?"

"What difference does it make? They're dead!"

"In fact, I don't think there was anybody in that room. That's why you insisted I wait for you in the hallway."

"Really? Come on, kid I think you've been watching too many of those TV crime dramas!"

"Then turn the car around."

"What?"

"If they're dead, then there should be dead bodies lying around, right?"

"With a blast like that…maybe chard body parts…either way there'd be no way to identify them…not without DNA testing, forensics…"

"…And that was the point, right?"

"Don't over analyze this. Cramer wanted the BAU dead and they're dead. There's no Hollywood conspiracy going on here. Trust me."

The young man sat silent for a minute. Cruz wasn't sure if he had convinced him. He knew the plan had a high risk of failure but there hadn't been much time to plan.

"So, what's he holding over your head, son?"

"I killed someone. It was self-defense but he said he'd make it look like pre-meditated murder."

"Damn! All I had was an affair…well not a real affair but…never mind, long story."

"I came home and caught my girl with my best friend. We got into a fight and he slipped and fell over the balcony of my condo."

The two kept driving in silence, the young agent, Trey Smythe, was visibly conflicted he wanted out of Cramer's grip too but he was in an impossible situation; proving his loyalty was his only way out. As he sat he wished he'd gone to the police and taken his chances but now it was too late. Cramer's hook was securely in and he was being pulled in every direction.

"Cramer must really trust you…just your word…that's all he requires. Why?"

"As much as I despised Thomas Cramer he knows I won't double-cross him."

"Really? Why so loyal to a man that at any time could send you to jail for life."

"He's my father."

"But your last name…"

"Yeah. I go by my mother's maiden name. Keeps people from thinking I got the job because I'm a senator's son."

"Damn, son-of-a-bitch." He said under his breath.

The air suddenly became even thicker. Cruz felt doomed and helpless.

"So what are you going to say?"

"About what?"

"What are you going to tell Cramer about tonight? Cruz began.

The young man turned to look at the older agent.

"The truth."

Seven minutes and thirty-eight seconds. That's how long it took the team to escape with an injured agent Morgan out the back of the house across the small back yard and down the short break that divided it from the house on the next street. Still, they felt the rush of heat and force that nearly knocked them off of their feet.

Out of breath they silently held their breaths and shielded their eyes as they watched the house go up in flames. Morgan leaned against the grassy embankment struggling against the excruciating pain crashing out of control through his body. He knew that his ribs were reinjured, probably worse than they were after the accident. It was hard to breath but feeling the heat from the explosion he knew the alternative could have been a lot worse.

"Is everybody okay?" Hotch asked still watching the bright orange and red flames shooting toward the sky.

"Yeah." Rossi answered.

JJ, Reid and Alex shook their heads to the affirmative. Morgan closed his eyes trying to find the strength to answer. Hotch noticed that he wasn't doing well and needed medical attention.

"Hotch, we have to move before first responders get here." JJ urged.

"Morgan, can you move?"

"Yeah…let's get the hell out of here!" He moaned.

"There's a SUV about two houses down. Let's go!"

Strangefellow's Market Parking Lot –

Cruz reluctantly pulled his car into the dark deserted lot and pulled into a space. This was the meeting place that Cramer had chosen for them to meet afterwards. The young agent Smythe hadn't said much since revealing his true identity. Cruz knew that that next few minutes could end with him getting his family back or watching them killed before his eyes. He was tired of it all; tired of trying to cover up his mistakes, playing both sides and he'd forgotten who he really was, what he really was.

He saw the headlights of a car in his rearview mirror. The black Towncar pulled into the space next to him followed by a late model van that parked blocking Cruz's car. The back window slowly descended as Cruz and Smythe exited the car.

Cramer greeted the two agents with a confident smile as they approached his car.

"Well?"

"Senator." Cruz began.

"Has my problem been taken care of?"

Cramer glanced at Smythe then at Cruz.

This was it; the moment that could very well end his life. This young man surely wouldn't cross his father, a man who'd destroy him without a second thought; the fact that he was the young man's father meant absolutely nothing to Thomas Cramer.

"Yes. They're dead." Answered Smythe with deadpan calm in his voice.

Cruz exhaled for the first time since the evening had begun. Cramer looked at both men as if trying to decide whether or not to believe the report. Then a smile cracked his stony glare. Without saying another word to the two, he pulled his cell phone from his suit jacket and pressed a number on his speed dial.

"It's done."

Suddenly the doors of the van slid open. Cruz imagined men dressed in black jumping out with semiautomatic rifles rushing towards them and firing a hail of bullets in their direction. Instead, he saw a sight that nearly brought him to his knees. His wife, daughter and son stepped out and began walking then running toward him. He couldn't believe his eyes, they were alive, well and his tears fell unashamedly from his eyes as he moved toward them.

"Cruz!" Cramer shouted.

Cruz held his place, was this all just a dream?

"Don't think our business is over. I still have a lot more work for you to do."

Second Safe House – Later

It had taken the team 45 minutes to arrive at the second house. The large two-story house was beautiful. The lights were on downstairs and Hotch recognized several unmarked SUV's and sedans parked along the block as federal vehicles. He glanced over at Morgan who had not said a word since they had begun the journey to the new location. The others had engaged in idle chatter while periodically shooting worried glances at their injured teammate.

The team was met by several armed agents as they turned into the driveway. While two of them carefully helped Morgan, the others quickly jumped out and headed inside. JJ was the first to enter and her face lit up when she saw a wide-eyed Penelope Garcia standing in front of her. The two rushed to each other and embraced in a tight hug. JJ could feel Garcia trembling and could hear her crying.

"JJ, thank God! I was so afraid that something had gone wrong!"

"We're all fine and in one piece."

Hotch, followed by Alex, Rossi and Reid entered and smiled when they saw the two women hugging. Garcia looked up and pulled away when she saw the others. She was relieved to see them all with her own eyes but she kept looking past them. Where was he?

Her hands went up to her mouth when she saw him slowly enter the house his arms around the shoulders of two agents supporting most of his weight. Her gasp got his attention and he looked up and into her eyes. He found strength from somewhere. He thought for a moment that he was walking toward her under his own power but he wasn't; it was her she'd closed the gap between them and now was standing in front of him tears flowing uncontrollably now.

Time had momentarily stopped and the others had faded…maybe even disappeared…it didn't matter she was here, safe and sound. That was all he wanted and needed. He felt that the threat against them was still out there and she wasn't trained to recognize danger. He'd tried to teach her to defend herself but nothing he could have taught her would prepare her for what Cramer and his sick plans had in store for them. Besides, she was his solace and after this week he wasn't sure of anything and he wasn't sure whom he could trust. He found himself fighting against the urge to even suspect his own team and that in itself scared him. She grabbed him around his neck and held onto his weak body for dear life. He hurt beyond what made any sense but her touch was like a balm and for a moment the pain no longer registered to his brain. It wasn't until the agents on each side felt him collapsing under their grip.

"Morgan!" She screamed.

His gaze still locked on her as the darkness overcame him taking him from consciousness his eyes fluttering closed to the sounds of her voice pleading for him to stay.

1900 Baxter Ct. – later

The upscale neighborhood lay boisterously quiet behind the iron gate symbolic of the high level of success that those behind the heavy doors had achieved in order to live there. Privilege had made them assume that they were immune from the ugliness of the world. Perhaps because they were the perpetrators of the ugliness done in the name of title, and the notion of entitlement that they clung to with every ounce of their knowing.

Such was the case with the gentleman and his pampered family who'd taken up residence fifteen years ago in the oversized house at the end of the cul de sac. He'd done his dirt, stepped on a lot of toes and necks but it had gotten him what he wanted except he still hungered for more…more money…more power.

The sound of his doorbell interrupted his private moment spent every evening in his study; brandy in one hand cigar in the other. His lovely wife had long retired for the evening so the house was quiet and peaceful.

He looked through the peephole and surprised quickly opened the door. He hadn't been expecting company his business for the day was finally over and very seldom did he accept late night visitors but he was an exception.

"Well, well, look who decided to grace us with his presence. Please come in."

The well-dressed man entered the house and followed him into the study. Cramer took his seat behind the desk and pompously smiled as his visitor entered the room behind him.

"Fix yourself a drink and join me."

"No thank you, I can't stay long."

The smug smile was quickly exchanged for a look of shock and disbelief as the man pulled a gun from under his suit jacket. He hadn't noticed until now that the man was wearing black leather gloves. He saw the silencer screwed securely on the barrel of the gun. He had underestimated his power and influence over him and now his arrogance and pompous pride had come back to bite him in his overweight ass.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? You don't have the balls to pull that trigger!"

"You sure about that?"

"I own you! You're lucky your ass isn't six feet under already."

"You always were a motor-mouthed son-of-a-bitch."

The leather index finger slowly curled around the trigger and the smile was now on the face of the man holding the gun.

"You crossed the line when you took my family, scared the shit out of them for three long months. I can't let you get away with that, Thomas. No, I can't let you get away with that at all."

"Think about what you're doing! Please!"

"That's all I have thought about. I've been waiting three months to blow your brains out."

"No!"

It was done. Cruz took one last look at the wide-eyed corpse of Thomas Cramer seated stiffly in his expensive tufted leather chair. Freedom smelled like gunpowder, he thought to himself. Sweet, heavy…a smell he'd never forget. He replaced the gun in it's hiding place behind his suit coat and walked out of the office into the foyer and then out the front door of the elegantly decorated home, just another expression of the over inflated ego of the late Thomas Cramer. He trotted down the front steps wondering with glee about how the government would spin the poor senator's death on tomorrow's morning news.

If he hurried he could make it home in time to tuck his children into bed and then if his wife wasn't too tired he'd share a nice glass of wine and take her upstairs and hold her tightly in his arms for what would seem like forever. He had so much to make up for and he wouldn't rest until he did.