Thought I'd try my hand at another unsub...we're jumping into the mind of Benjamin Cyrus of "Minimal Loss" fame from season 4.

Happy reading =)

"It is clear that the individual who persecutes a man, his brother, because he is not of the same opinion, is a monster." – Voltaire

"Comfortable?" I ask from the doorway, watching as she struggles to sit up upon noticing me.

She glares at me for a moment before answering. "I've lived in worse places."

"Many still do. It's why I've worked hard to build this ranch and provide a place for us to live our lives. Somewhere where we can be free of the judgment and scorn of society."

"I have no issue with your beliefs."

"So you and your fellow agent, Dave, keep saying, and yet here you are," I reply calmly, my gaze lingering on the bruises rapidly darkening on her face. She remains quiet but maintains eye contact with me. "Tell me, Agent Prentiss," I say as I enter the room and pull out a chair and sit. "Why are you here?"

"Why do you think I'm here?" she replies, her eyes carefully following my every move.

My tone is calm and even as I reply. "For the same reason officers and agents of the state visit us."

"And what reason is that?"

"They take issue with how we live our lives," I answer simply. "They always have." It's true – if it's not with our beliefs and practices, then it's with how we apparently try to circumvent society's law.

"No," she says slowly. "I think they take issue with you spending a little too much quality time with young girls."

I feel my eyes narrow ever so slightly for a moment at her accusation. I let out a breath before I respond. "Like I said, you take issue with how we live our lives."

"I don't object to anything at this point," she says, her brow furrowing a bit. "Except you taking your anger and surprise out on me," she adds after a moment.

My eyes widen fractionally in surprise. I had thought she'd be quick to judge. The FBI certainly wouldn't send in an undercover agent without cause – even if it is incorrect and they're misinformed. "You don't believe the allegations that have been made?"

"I can't say one way or another," she hedges.

"Surely you must have an initial reaction."

"I prefer to understand a situation before casting judgment."

"So people always say, but the deaths here today speak a different truth," I point out. I watch her carefully as she processes my argument. Her eyes and posture are not angry, she almost seems irritated – as though this is just a large inconvenience to her. How common was being beaten and tied up in her line of work? Despite how much current television and movies like to dramatize the profession, my own brushes with law enforcement have shown me that it is career that is not remotely as glamourous as advertised.

"Your actions today are not innocent," she replies quickly, but her tone is not accusatory. She's working very hard to maintain a certain level of diplomacy, evidently. Perhaps my earlier actions had been rash. "You accuse outsiders of not allowing you to live as you so wish, and yet your first reaction to me was to enact your rage. Not exactly the epitome of patience and understanding."

I take a moment to consider her words before answering. "Deception is a dangerous beast."

"Maybe so," she answers, shifting around slightly, "but we chose a non-violent means of dealing with the allegations."

"For what gain? The outcome of the investigation would have been the same whether or not the FBI was present."

"According to you."

"You don't share that opinion?"

"It doesn't matter if I do. The fact is, I'm here."

"Yes, you are," I say thoughtfully, leaning back further against the chair. "But you haven't answered my question. Why did the FBI feel it necessary to lend such credence to these allegations that they'd send an undercover agent in?"

"We're a resource available to all forms of law enforcement."

"That's not an answer."

"It's not the answer you want," she counters. "Contrary to what you might believe, we're not in the business of coming in guns blazing."

"Yet that's exactly what happened here today."

"I had nothing to do with that."

"Perhaps you didn't, but that's not to say it wasn't coordinated with the FBI."

"Trust me, it wasn't," she says, her jaw tensing and her expression shifting again to irritation and frustration. So it seems I've hit a sensitive spot. "It doesn't make much sense to send in an agent and then put them in danger, now does it?"

"It does if you were the one to signal them," I point out, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my legs.

"Signal them?" she says with a scoff. "What kind of unique information could I possibly give them?"

"When the women and children were out of harm's way. The timing of your visit is more than suspicious."

"Coincidence," she says dismissively. Her body language has shifted – she's beginning to get frustrated, I think. But I'm not sure whether it's because I don't accept her explanations, or because she's restrained and the element of control is very much out of her hands.

"You really believe in coincidence?" I say doubtfully. A federal agent chalking it up to a matter of chance? Not likely. She doesn't seem the type to just let things be and see how they play out. I would wager she's an influencer – always wanting to have an impact on things, and valuing action.

"Bad luck then."

"I find that hard to believe."

"You shouldn't. Do you really believe with all the resources at their disposal the FBI would have to resort to using an undercover to signal? Surveillance would be more effective, and much safer."

I consider her words carefully. While they seem to make sense, I have to take care not to believe her words too quickly. They deceived us once, they could easily do so again.

"Why don't you just end this peacefully?" she continues, her tone shifting to calm and diplomatic. "You gain nothing by holding hostages."

"I am not the one who initiated this standoff. It was the ill-advised actions of your colleagues that did."

"I told you already I didn't have anything to do with that," she protests quickly, her tone once again becoming frustrated. Definitely a sore spot for her.

"And so it is your word against mine – who am I to trust? My own person, whom I know and understand, or an unknown stranger who deceived me at every turn?"

"But that's what you've thought all along, isn't it? Your own word, disguised as the guidance of God. I never had a chance of having you hear me out."

My jaw tenses at her accusation. "I have prayed to Him for guidance, and He has provided just that."

"Right," she says with a roll of her eyes. "And He told you to keep all these hostages?"

"These are His people, and they are under my protection – they are not being held here against their will. If there be non-believers among us, they are free to leave."

"Then why not let the man I came in with go?"

"He's perceptive and open to our beliefs – he is not being held against his will."

Her brow furrows in thought. I'm surprised that she isn't surprised by this fact. She is a bit of an enigma.

"What are you hoping to accomplish by doing this?" she asks, breaking my train of thought.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand," I answer with a wave of my hand.

"Try me," she challenges. And that's exactly what it is – a challenge. Gone is her diplomatic tone. Now she's pushing my buttons deliberately.

"We didn't ask for this. We are completely self-sufficient and have no need of outside influences," I answer calmly, refusing to engage in the anger she's trying to bring to the surface in me.

"You didn't answer my question," she replies simply, clearly unimpressed with my response.

Slowly I get up and put the chair back in its place, my movements careful and deliberate. "Understanding," I offer, wondering what her response to that will be.

"I think holding hostages might not be the best strategy for accomplishing that," she remarks drily.

"We were forced into this position by the rash actions of people who steadfastly refuse to listen or be open to the concept of our way of life."

"I'll accept that the sequence of events has led to the current situation, but your reaction was not that of someone seeking to be understood. You talk if you want to be understood, you don't bring guns."

"God helps those who help themselves – words have no meaning when they come from us, so we must use other means of action to speak."

"And the guns? What do they say?"

"They say we will fight for what we believe in, and for God's will."

"But you've contradicted yourself now," she says, an almost triumphant tinge in her voice. "You said it was never your intention to begin this violence…why have the guns for such a purpose then?"

"FBI agents carry guns too," I refute. "And as you so ardently claimed – it is not your way to come in, how did you put it… "guns blazing" I believe it was."

She lets out a breath heavy with frustration and I know we've reached an impasse. She had impressed me with her diplomacy and apparent ability to hold back quick judgments initially, but it turns out she's no different from the agents who had stormed the compound. She believes staunchly in society's morals and enforced laws, and is unable to accept that there might be a different way to live life.

She opens her mouth to respond, but I cut her off. "I believe we've reached an impasse. Just as they mean nothing to your colleagues, my words mean nothing to you. I'll have some food and water brought up for you."

She holds my gaze, her eyes fierce with a mixture of determination and frustration. When she offers no reply I make my way out of the room, stopping to instruct Harry to resume guarding the door. I take one last moment to glance at her form, noticing her eyes are still fiercely locked on me, before I head back to the church. My conversation with her had only reinforced our need to move forward with our plans – they could never and will never understand us. It's a pity that the two of them would have to die alongside us – but just as I'd sought solace in it earlier, I know that God will forgive me for what I have to do.

So...did I get his 'voice' right? How was this for a missing moment from the episode? Let me know.

Still not back to a regular posting schedule, I'm afraid. I'm doing my best though, I assure you.