It's a Chrismas miracle! I actually got the next chapter done! Not that anyone will be around to read it, but if you are, here's wishing all of you and your families a blessed holiday season, along with a great new year. And thanks all for your encouragement and support-it really means a lot.

Maria

"I only need five of you" Booth announced tersely.

He looked over the anxious faces of the men and women in front of him, all quietly waiting for his verdict. It wasn't intentional, but his mind automatically went over their personal details. Whether they were married, if they had young kids at home, how much on-field experience they had. He wasn't familiar with every single agent there, but he knew enough about some of them to determine right away whom he wouldn't be taking.

"Markowitz, Harper, Gustavson, Shelby, Perez, Markham: you're with me. The rest, stick with the civilians. Wait out here for the staffers to come out, and then escort them downstairs without going into a long explanation. Orderly, but also don't dawdle. And don't come back up unless you hear from one of us first."

Pulling out a rough diagram of the room, he turned to face Cooper. "This is where I think the main goods are at-there's wires coming out of this closet. It's probably an old-fashioned device, if he's still even using wires, so hopefully it won't be that hard to mess with. Sweets and the others are going to take the focus off you so you can get in unnoticed and do your thing while I cover you. Just try being as unobtrusive as possible-I think there's enough room in there for you to work without being seen."

"I'll get on it immediately, sir. I couldn't bring a full set of tools, but I'm hoping what's in here will do," Cooper replied, holding up a small duffel bag.

"How about the lighting? It's got to be pitch black in there."

"Small but effective flashlight in my cap, plus an additional battery-powered light with a clamp-I'm set. With the other lamps that are already out there, the suspect shouldn't notice."

"Good. Be sure you gauge the situation first," Booth fired off. "Text me your preliminary findings. If you think you can disable it, go to town and text me again when you're finished. If you can't, don't even try-remember you don't have any protective gear on you. I don't want them to have to have to piece you back together like a human jigsaw puzzle back at the Jeffersonian. The staff really doesn't like it-it kills the mood over there like you wouldn't believe."

Cooper smiled. "Okay sir."

"For the ones going on with me, pretend like you're examining evidence-I assume Hacker already explained all this to you. I'm not going to send you a text when I hear from Cooper-too risky. Look over in my direction on the Q.T. every so often. If I give any of you the thumbs-up, start leaving, but not all at once. And that goes for you too, Gustavson-say your piece, and then out."

"Not happening, Seeley" Gustavson scoffed. "Just because I'm retiring soon doesn't mean I'm ready to go gently into the proverbial good night just yet. In two weeks I'll be riding off into a lifetime of Pensacola sunsets with Anne; there'll plenty of umbrella drinks in my warm and balmy future while you're freezing your balls off in DC. But right now, I'm still an agent, and still one of the best guys here. No way am I missing out on the fun. Besides-no matter how much you always wanted it" he added with a sly grin, "you're not my superior officer, so you can't boss me around like you do these other greenhorns. I'm staying on 'til the lights get turned off. Comprende, amigo?"

Booth crossed his arms, mulled over his options, then gave up with an irritated harrumph; they didn't have the luxury of arguing over this. And truthfully, if he was in Gustavson's shoes, he'd be making the same demands as his colleague and long-time buddy.

"You're a pain in the ass, Erik. Fine. But you watch your back-you're not as young as you used to be-don't want you suffering from a slipped disc while you're sipping daiquiris on the beach" Booth said, returning Gustavson's previous dig.

"Hey, you're the one wearing girdles, in case you need to be reminded."

"But sir" Rodriguez said, interrupting the rare moment of levity. It was obvious to Booth that he was still disappointed about being left out of the action, just as all the other agents who had to stay behind. "I did well before-you said so yourself. I can be just as effective now. I'm very familiar with the layout of that room, and most of these other guys aren't."

Without a doubt, Rodriguez had proven himself qualified to join their hunting expedition-Booth couldn't deny that. And his wife had just had a baby six weeks ago.

"Yeah, you did great. But now it's time to let others do their part. You lead the rest of the agents and the civilians out of here-you probably know your way out the best, and speed is of the essence once they start coming. Getting all those people out alive is just as important as dealing with this wacko."

Booth was about to start telling Gustavson and the others to get going, when he remembered something he wanted to do first, while he still had the presence of mind to do it. Once events started cascading into each other, there might not be another opportunity for him to follow through on his wish. He dug deep into one of his pants' pockets, grabbing all that was in it in a single handful. He came up with some odds and ends: loose change, a few paper clips and two other items-the St. Christopher medal that Pops had given him for protection when he joined the army and which had finally made its way back to him from its sojourn to India, along with his wayward brother, and the beat-up, old poker chip he still kept from his gambling days. He handed the medal to Rodriguez in a closed fist, so the others wouldn't see.

"Put that in a safe place" he ordered. "When you get downstairs, you give that to Dr. Brennan for me, okay. Don't forget-I want her to have it."

He put the other stuff back into his pocket along with the poker chip-that little souvenir he would be keeping for good luck.

"Nice chatting with you all, but I have plans to go home and have dinner with my wife sometime before the month is up-I actually have a life," Gustavson said good-naturedly. "So ready or not, I'm going in, fellas. Follow me at your leisure-and remember, I expect all of you at my retirment bash-no lame excuses about deaths or injuries."

"Break a leg" Sweets chirped, his upbeat voice cutting through the tense silence that had once again enveloped the group.

The other members of the team stared at him like he was a little green man freshly beamed in from outer space. Apparently, this wasn't what you said before the start of an FBI operation. Not the best choice of words there, Lance, he concluded, as he saw their perplexed faces.

"It's a showbiz term," he rambled on with increasing mortification. Just how much more did he need to point out to everyone here that he was just a rookie, and not even remotely in their league? He might as well be wearing a clown costume complete with a giant, red nose-not that this would do anything for Booth's blood pressure. "It's a desire that represents the opposite of what you actually want to happen on stage," he added by way of explanation. "What I meant to say…"

Gustavson was having quite the tough time keeping a straight face, Booth noticed archly. By this point, they all pretty much were. Not a bad way to lift the mood there, Sweets, Booth thought, biting down a grin.

"We get it son," Gustavson finally said, throwing Sweets a life-line along with a wink. "Thanks."

Booth saw his handpicked crew enter the room, one by one: Gustavson first, followed by Markham, Harper, Markowitz, Shelby and finally Perez; Sweets was the last of the group to go in.

"Hey" he said, holding his partner back for a fraction of a second. "Break a leg, Sweets."

"You too, Booth," Sweets replied with a nervous smile. A second later he was gone, right along with the others.