CHAPTER TWENTY:
BITE THE HAND
( aka 04x03: minimal loss )

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

DALLIS SAT BESIDE REID in the back of the police car as it careened across the rocky Colorado terrain. Dust coated the windows in a light film, obscuring Dallis' view of the vegetation sprawled along the hillside. La Plata County was isolated. Their late-night flight had led into a two hour car ride that thankfully was coming to an end. As they closed the distance between themselves and the fringe religious group -- who called themselves the Separatarian Sect -- they were about to investigate, the three profilers poured over every detail they'd been given.

"Tell us about the 9-1-1 call," Reid requested from Nancy Lunde, the Child Protective Services officer who had approached JJ with the case.

"I believe the 'he' they refer to is the church's leader, Benjamin Cyrus," Nancy said. She had one hand guiding the steering wheel and the other propped beneath her chin as she rested her elbow on the edge of the door. The outdated air conditioning system was working overtime against the sun beating through the windows. The last place any of them wanted to be was out in the middle of nowhere.

"Benjamin Cyrus," Reid's slim fingers traced the list of names they'd been given. "No criminal record. No record at all, really. What else do you know about him?"

"Well, it's rumoured that he's practising polygamy and forced marriages."

"Lovely," Dallis grimaced.

Only a few days ago, 9-1-1 had received an anonymous report from somebody claiming to be part of Benjamin Cyrus' community. They accused him of coming into their bedroom to 'lay with them' at night, then went on to say they were fifteen but Cyrus looked past this as it was 'God's will.' It was safe to say the Colorado PD were alarmed, hence why Hotch had decided to send in Dallis, Emily and Reid. It would be their job to confirm whether the BAU would be able to contribute anything to this particular case. So far, Dallis wasn't sure what to think. It wasn't often they went into an investigation already knowing the name of their unsub. In fact, they knew more about him than their victim.

"Any idea who the caller is?" Emily asked.

Nancy's brows were knitted in a prominent frown. "Jessica Evanson is the one who the age fits but we can't be sure, so I negotiated interviews with all the children. It wasn't easy."

"Well, considering their view on outsiders," Dallis said while removing her holster from her belt. Emily did the same thing, passing her gun back for Reid to conceal beneath her seat. "It would be better if you didn't identify us as FBI. Just call us by our first names and introduce us as child victim interview experts if anyone asks."

"And they're just going to believe that?"

"They will if they get close enough to see these," Dallis flashed the two fake ID cards that each of them had been given. One was a Colorado driver's licence and the other was a Child Protective Services card. She was quick to pocket them as they swung into the guarded driveway of the place they referred to as the ranch. A middle-aged man in a blue chequered shirt and low-hanging jeans held up a hand to stop them, then approached the wooden gate to let them in. "It's showtime, ladies and gent."

At first glance, there wasn't anything special about Liberty Ranch, though Dallis had to wonder why they called it a ranch when it was much more extensive than the name let on. There were several red-brick houses grouped together along with various work sheds. Pick-up trucks stored sheet metal and timber in their trays, indicating a self-reliant group of people who had taught themselves the lay of the land. There were women tending to crops in meticulously organised gardens. Behind them were rows of solar-panels, confirming Dallis' initial theory.

At the centre of everything was the church. It was the beating heart that brought life into its people, drawing them towards it like moths to a flame. Outside, they found another man dressed similarly to the one who let them through the gate. He sat on the edge of the steps with a weathered book propped open on his knee.

"I'm looking for Mr Benjamin Cyrus," Nancy announced upon exiting the car.

"You've found him," the man answered with a fleeting glance in their direction.

He only sat to attention when Nancy introduced herself. "I'm Nancy Lunde. We spoke on the phone regarding the allegation."

Slowly, he stood, pocketing his reading glasses and tucking his book under his arm. "'Savages, they call us because our manners differ from theirs.'"

Nancy's mouth flattened into a thin, impatient line. "We didn't come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr Cyrus."

"Actually, it's Benjamin Franklin," Reid corrected under his breath, earning himself a glare from Nancy and a look of appraisal from Cyrus.

"And you are?"

"Emily Prentiss, Spencer Reid and Dallis Cohen," Nancy pointed to each of them in turn. When she gestured to Dallis, she forced a quick nod, more focused on his body language than her own. "They're child victim interview experts."

Cyrus let out a sigh. "How far from God's word must we have strayed for there to be the need to invent a job called 'child victim interview expert.'"

"We wish we didn't have to be here," Emily told him.

"So do we, but you are welcome nonetheless."

Dallis was keenly aware they had attracted attention. A man picking apples from a fruit tree had stopped to openly stare at their backs. Two long-skirted women kneeling in the dirt of the garden were whispering in each other's ear. Yet there were no children anywhere.

"Does your community have a school, Mr Cyrus?" she asked, maintaining vague curiosity.

Cyrus nodded, waving a hand behind the church where a modest building peeked out of its shadow. "Just over here. You can go on through if you like."

Nancy led the way with Dallis and Emily falling into step behind her. Reid hung back a second to have a word with Cyrus, and after a nod from him at Dallis' hesitant expression, she left him to it. The two men caught up to them before long, though Nancy had Cyrus wait outside in the corridor while they settled in with the first child. 

It was Jessica Evanson.

Everything about Jessica was pruned to perfection, like a freshly cut rose with its thorns picked away. She wore a modest, high-collared blue shirt and a knee-length grey skirt made out of wool. Both items of clothing looked hand-made. Her blonde hair was shoulder-length and curly. As she spoke, she maintained eye contact and kept her hands folded on the tabletop.

"We go to school, we do our chores, and we treat ourselves and each other with the respect God demands."

In truth, just looking at her made Dallis feel uneasy. She didn't know many children who strived to bury their innocence in the dirt. This wasn't a girl who would seek to 'betray Cyrus' by calling the police. "Have you ever been off the ranch, Jessica?"

"I brought Jesse here when she was two," Jessica's mother, Kathy, shared. She hovered beside her daughter, a mirror-image of her youthful features. Her answer was quiet, composed, rehearsed.

"You've talked to lots of children in your work," Jessica stated. It wasn't a question. No doubt she'd been informed beforehand, like the rest of the children and their parents who waited in the corner, that Child Protective Services would be coming to check on them. Would each of them talk just like this? "Tell me, are their lives somehow better than ours?"

"We devote ourselves to God," Kathy said. "That doesn't mean we're not devoted to our children."

"We are not here because of your religious beliefs," Emily assured them both.

"Then why are you here?" Jessica's eyes narrowed.

"We received a phone call alleging that an adult male member of your church was having inappropriate relations with the younger women here."

"You're talking about Cyrus."

Dallis arched an eyebrow. "You seem confident. What makes you say that, Jessica?"

Kathy tried to silence her daughter with a squeeze of her shoulder, but Jessica was having none of it. She shrugged her away. "Is it 'inappropriate' for a husband to share a bed with his wife?"

Emily was slow to respond. "You're... married to Cyrus?"

"Yes," her nod was one of pride. "Cyrus is my husband and a prophet. It's an honour to bear his children."

Dallis watched Kathy as her throat constricted in a heavy swallow. Her wispy fringe shielded the flutter of her eyes but Dallis didn't miss the twitch of her fingers before she hid them behind her back, as if she wanted to shut Jessica up with a hand over her mouth. She knew this was wrong. It was in her blood as Jessica's mother, the urge to protect her, yet she was so... compliant to the whims of her teenage daughter.

"Jessica, you're fifteen-years-old," Reid said. "The state of Colorado requires parental consent."

"But you gave consent," Dallis addressed Kathy. "Didn't you?"

Kathy didn't get a chance to answer, not that it would've made a difference. The door to the classroom ricocheted off the wall, leaving a chip in the cream-coloured paint from the force of the metal handle. In entered several of the ranch's men, including Benjamin Cyrus. Each held out an assault rifle, the presence of which was enough to have the parents and children scrambling to their feet well before the men ordered them to stand.

Then they turned to Dallis, Emily, Reid and Nancy.

"What's going on?" Nancy asked them.

"We just got a very strange phone call from a news reporter," Cyrus stood with his arms folded. Dallis tried not to flinch as unfamiliar hands started patting her body down. They'd find nothing, but her skin still crawled from the prying fingers moving across her thighs and over her hips. "Is there anything you want to tell me? About a raid, maybe?"

This was the first Dallis had heard of it. She glanced at Emily and Reid, who looked equally as lost.

"They don't know," Cyrus stated.

He wasted no more time standing around when he knew they'd have no answers for him. Dallis' jaw clenched as the same man who searched her then latched onto her wrist hard enough to leave a bruise. The others did the same to Emily, Reid and Nancy, and they were forced along with the parents and children to follow Cyrus into an underground tunnel.

"What's going on?" Emily hissed in Dallis' ear once their guards had released them.

"I don't know," Dallis whispered back. "Nancy?"

The case worker gave a helpless shrug.

"Just stay calm, guys," Reid insisted from in front of them.

There was little else they could do but wait and see what Cyrus had prepared at the end of this tunnel. Somewhere above, they heard the relentless rat-a-tat of gunshots. The gut-wrenching sounds only grew louder as they emerged in a windowless brick room overflowing with dozens of weapons; guns ranging from rifles to pistols, not to mention the sharp-edged hunting knives. Cyrus stood front and centre, his words rising to rival the echoing bullets.

"Have faith."

Dallis kept her voice low enough that only Emily and Reid, who stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her, could hear her. "How did we not know about their gun collection?"

"I don't know," Reid muttered. "Garcia checked with state police."

"Everyone remain calm, stay together," Cyrus continued. "There is nothing to fear here."

The words sent a shiver down Nancy's spine. She squared her shoulders and tapped her foot in an impatient tune against the concrete floor. "This is ridiculous."

Dallis narrowed her eyes. "Stay calm, remember?"

Nancy's sigh was loud and frustrated but thankfully she said nothing else. The four of them watched with bated breath as one of Cyrus' men approached and whispered something to him. Cyrus' expression gave nothing away but Dallis studied him closely, catching the twitch of his fingers balling into fists. Whatever the news was, it wasn't good, especially for them.

"God will protect you," he declared.

Then he left the room, disappearing down another hallway. These tunnels were an intricate maze they definitely hadn't been informed of before their arrival. Who knew where they ended, what secrets laid within them.

His absence returned Nancy's voice. "It's the state police. I'm an officer of the state."

"Nancy, there is absolutely nothing we can do right now," Dallis shook her head. "There's some very pissed off men between us and the state police--"

"I can talk to him."

"No, you can't."

But Nancy was already pushing her way through the crowd, ignoring their calls of her name as they hurried after her. When they managed to break through to the front, Nancy had slipped under the arm of a towering guard who stopped Dallis, Emily and Reid with a raised gun. A few minutes later, Cyrus returned. Nancy was nowhere to be seen.

"Do not fear. We are on the side of the righteous."

"Where's Lunde?" Emily asked.

"It wasn't us," he answered simply.

Dallis held a hand to her mouth, swallowing against the rapid flutter of her pulse. This was spiralling fast. They had to get word out to the team but their phones were waiting for them in Nancy's car. A car that was on the other side of a firing line along with their own weapons. 

In short, they were sitting ducks.

"You can't shoot it out with the cops," Emily tried to reason with Cyrus. "You have children here."

"I didn't start this," he argued, then started directing his men once again.

Just when Dallis thought the gunshots would never end, there was silence. She reached for Emily's hand, gripping onto her fingers for dear life when they heard the distant sound of someone saying that the police were retreating.

"Not for long," Reid mumbled.

One thing Dallis knew for sure? If they couldn't get out soon, the chances of Cyrus discovering their true identities was high. Media coverage would be pouring over the scene in droves. If it got out that there were three FBI agents trapped inside, things would get very ugly.

Cyrus had them moved to a separate area which happened to be yet another room completely loaded with guns. Dallis stood behind Reid with a hand on his shoulder, trying her best to conceal the trembling of her fingers from Cyrus. Emily paced the length of the space but she stopped when Nancy's body was dragged past the open door.

"Miles is dead," one man declared as he jogged down the stairs in her wake. "He was locking the door when they shot him. Laura and Robert were asleep in their bed, the bullets came through the walls."

"What about the baby?" Cyrus asked. His question was answered when Jessica and Kathy appeared. In Jessica's arms was a restless little girl no older than two. Cyrus sighed at the sight of her, stroking a hand down the side of her face. "Oh, it's going to be alright, honey. Mummy and daddy have gone to God, okay? It's all gonna be alright." His hand moved to Jessica's shoulder next. His touch alone brought a smile to her face. "You take her to the temple and pray."

As soon as she was gone, his soft expression hardened to stone. "Distribute weapons and ammo. I prayed this day would never come, but it is. God will see us through."

Dallis might not have been religious, but at that moment, with Cyrus assessing the worth of their lives, she prayed to a God she didn't necessarily believe in. Please. Let them get out of this unscathed.

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

ROSSI FOLLOWED THE REST of his team into the tent set up outside Liberty Ranch. As soon as news reached them of the police invasion -- one they deliberately hadn't been told about, from the look of things -- they were called into Colorado as lead of hostage negotiation. Everyone was well aware of what happened to be at stake, who happened to be the hostages. Three of their own were inside, only a matter of yards away, yet those yards felt like entire cities to Rossi. 

He let his eyes close. He pictured Dallis' face, one he spent so much time admiring. It was twisted with fear.

"Dave," Hotch distracted him with a hand on his shoulder. "They've left the choice of negotiators up to me."

"I taught most of the hostage negotiation unit," Rossi said. "Do you want a recommendation?"

"I'm making you the lead negotiator."

He frowned. "Me?"

"Why go to the students when I have the teacher?"

"Because the teacher is emotionally involved," he said without thinking. For a moment, Hotch just looked at him. His brow was already knitted in a heavy frown that mirrored Rossi's own but the expression shifted thoughtfully when Rossi's throat bobbed with a swallow. "So is the agent in command."

"I know we are," Hotch sighed. "But this is a unique situation. We have three agents who could affect the outcome on the inside."

Rossi didn't need to be reminded of that. Ever since he had seen that news report, his heart hadn't dislodged from its ascent into his airway. Every breath was shallow, hard to inhale. The thought of Dallis hurt, Dallis dead... he couldn't stand it. 

When she'd driven that ambulance only a matter of months ago in New York, he had known with such certainty that his affection for her extended beyond friendship. She was the first person on this team to accept him, even when he separated himself and made some questionable decisions. Every damn day since -- not to mention that moment in the hospital, holding her in his arms -- he had fought the overwhelming urge to kiss her, to release the ache of longing to share his heart again.

Something about Dallis and him just made sense. He hoped, deep down, that she would feel the same someday. Look past everything that was unconventional about them being together, but he'd never find out if she entered these Colorado hills only to never come out.

Call it selfish, but he wanted to accept Hotch's offer purely to lay eyes on her. To see her smile because of him, as she always seemed to whenever he was around.

"This outcome depends as much on our ability to predict the moves of Cohen, Prentiss and Reid as Cyrus," Hotch insisted when Rossi remained quiet. "That's why you're the best man for the job."

"Assuming that Dallis, Reid and Prentiss are still in a condition to make moves..."

"I know how bad this is. That's why I want you doing the talking."

Rossi's sigh was fleeting but determined now. "Alright."

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

THE FIRST FRAGMENTS OF daylight poured through the stain-glass windows of the church. Dallis, bleary-eyed, had been gazing in a lost stream of thought at the carefully constructed cross towering above them at the front of the room. On either side of her was Emily and Reid. Once Cyrus had sorted his army, he moved his women, children and guests to wait out the morning inside the church. The wooden seat was hard on Dallis' back but she refused to rest her head on Emily or Reid's shoulders, building up her defences until they were sky high.

Regardless, she wasn't prepared to see Rossi when someone knocked on the door. She let out a gasp, pressing her hands against her knees. Pretend you don't know him, her mind instilled, but her heart wanted to run for him, to find solace in his arms. 

Cyrus led Rossi down the aisle. As they got closer, they were able to pick up pieces of what they were saying.

"I had hoped you'd let me take the children," Rossi remarked.

"No," Cyrus' response was immediate. "They're our protection. I remember Waco. We all do."

Rossi's smile was patient but strained. "This isn't Waco."

"They stay for now," Cyrus insisted, taking up a copy of the bible that Jessica was reading. He held his hand on the front for emphasis. "While I pray for God's guidance. Please don't try to force us out."

"No one's going to try to force you out of here. Trust me."

"Trust is earned."

"It is," Rossi agreed.

The conversation was coming to an end. Cyrus' men had moved in the boxes of supplies that Rossi had organised as a peace offering. There was no need for him to stay, but oh Dallis wished he would. She was grateful for Emily and Reid, she would've blown her cover without a doubt if they weren't there with her, but she desired the normalcy that Rossi reminded her of. The safety of home.

"Tell them I'm not crazy," Cyrus requested. "Tell them I'm just a man living by God's law."

"I will."

They shook hands. Cyrus opened the door for Rossi, then closed the door behind him. The silence was deafening.

Dallis sat back in her seat, subconsciously gnawing on her bottom lip until Emily stood up to move to the back of the room and Reid followed, leaving Dallis to trail behind them. They feigned interest in the design of the intricate window panes, though some were shattered from bullet holes, revealing pieces of the outside world. While they pretended to marvel, Cyrus brought out a plastic bottle with red liquid inside. He claimed it was wine and started to pour.

"We are celebrating," he declared, making his way down each row. "Everyone drinks, everyone rejoices, because today we are one day closer to being with Him."

"Look at Jessica's body language, the way she looks at him," Emily pointed out the girl's devoted, unwavering gaze.

"She literally worships him," Reid and Dallis both frowned. "There's no way she made that 9-1-1 call."

Cyrus approached the altar once he was finished, setting the nearly empty bottle on the edge. "'Trust in God with all your heart. Lean not on your own understandings. Trust in mine.'"

Dallis tilted her head to the side as she watched Kathy kneel in front of her daughter. Jessica leaned forward to look around her, trying to ignore her mother in favour of Cyrus, but Kathy was persistent with whatever she was whispering in her ear. Eventually, she sat down beside her and held her hand.

"Look at how she comes between Cyrus and her daughter," Dallis said. "She's inserted herself between them. Why would she consent to their marriage if she knows the type of man he is?"

Cyrus continued to cite scripture, then raised his glass to his mouth. Without thought, everyone else did the same, even the young children. They were like sheep in a herd. Dallis had initially thought the church was the flame drawing the moths to it but she was wrong. It was Benjamin Cyrus. A man who lived for God so much that he consumed His identity as his own.

"We will be with Him soon," he licked the red stain on his lips and smiled. "We have drank the poison together."