Well,
you wonder why I always dress in black,
Why you never see bright
colors on my back,
And why does my appearance seem to have a
somber tone.
Well, there's a reason for the things that I have
on.
They were the professionals. Often local police saw them as their light against the threat. They were perceived as heroes by many. They came to solve their nightmares, make it all better. And it was on those occasions he often met them. Reflections of himself 20 years ago. Eager to learn, fascinated by the cruelty of man. He had lost count of the many times he had signed autographs on books belonging to the far times of his past, when he had been young and eager to aspire quickly. A time when this profession had seemed somewhat thrilling and mildly exotic.
Those days had long passed. He had left the BAU to reflect on his time there. To get some distance from the darkness that could consume him. Eventually it had. He couldn´t run away. That time had changed him. The victims from the cases caught up on him, the distance he had put between them had disappeared. He had immortalized the killers, by writing books about them. And so the victims had been forgotten, but now they were right here, pushing at the boundaries of his mind, forcing him to remember. And so he realized. He had to return to the BAU, to set things straight. So now he was back.
But he still met the occasionally reflection of his old self. And then he remembered the victims. Especially the necklace reminded him the many victims, whose cases were never solved. The necklace he had found on the crime scene of three helpless children, screaming as their parents were butchered with an axe. Every time he closed his eyes, he heard those screams.
But he was out there again. Not as the hero, but as the man who needed to do things right.
Now he was the Man in Black.
Ah,
I'd love to wear a rainbow every day,
And tell the world that
everything's OK,
But I'll try to carry off a little darkness on my
back,
'Till things are brighter, I'm the Man In Black.