"You can't have a light without darkness to stick it in," –Arlo Gunthrie

As soon as the little light bulb in his head switched on, which he of course knew wasn't actually a light bulb, just the sudden knowledge of something clicking in his mind, Spencer Reid phoned Derek Morgan, hoping the other agent picked up before the third ring. He was becoming antsy with what he had just discovered.

"Morgan," the voice on the other end of the line said, almost immediately cut off by the spurt from the young genius.

"Looking up anagrams of those words did me no good, Morgan, but Tool has around three songs when names of people, made up or not, are song titles. Jimmy, Message to Henry Hanback, and Lost Keys (Blame Hofmann). Well, there's also Wings for Marie, but I'm pretty sure our unsub is a male between the ages of 25 and 55, roughly. I know that's a large scope, but I did more treading. See, an anagram of Jimmy Henry Hofmann is John Fayer Norm Mhimn. Okay, so Mhimn might not seem like anything, but they're actually to separate names! John Fayer and Norm Mhimn are apparently two aliases that a FBI agent, sometime in 1998, used when he was overseas in Eastern Europe. I've called further into the bureau, but I can't get anything on the guy's actual identity. He has houses in Europe and America under both name, along with credit cards and full insurance policies." Reid had spent about ten minutes from the time he ended the phone call from Morgan and the time he hit six on his speed-dial looking through the information he had gathered to decide what was even important enough to bring up in conversation. He got most of it; well, everything he thought was good enough to be said through one agent to another. He really didn't feel like wasting Derek's time on trivial matters for the time being. He normally did it, but this wasn't exactly a normal occasion. At that was different; mostly to annoy him or prove something that could help them on the case they were working on. He wondered if this was even considered a case. They weren't working with the 'forms, only the bureau, and kind of against the bureau in another way. He shook the odd thoughts from his head and went back to the real world, finishing up his miniature lecture. "I'm not sure what else this guy might be hiding, but it's probably big if he's going through all this trouble to make sure no one can track him and no one can figure out who the heck he actually is."

"Have you talked to Gar-"

"Sorry, Morgan, but Garcia was the first one I touched base on," Reid said, interrupting Morgan once yet again. The older agent didn't get annoyed by it anymore. It happened too often to throw a fit about. "I wouldn't have bothered you this soon unless I knew for sure that I could find him or the opposite. In our case, it's the latter. I've talked to Strauss. Nothing can come out of this, and I'm not allowed any information regarding the man."

"Do they know that this FBI agent has been killing people since October? Or maybe before then?" Morgan questioned, a small sound of annoyance in his voice. Okay, maybe he was annoyed with Reid, but it wasn't about being interrupted; not anymore. More like the fact that that Spencer Reid could never get to the point. Doesn't this boy know that we have precious time before someone could be killed?

"No, she doesn't, but neither do we," Reid argued, hoping that Morgan would give it up. There was nothing on the guy, and they couldn't dig any deeper. That was it. The man needed to shut up about it.

Reid heard Morgan's breath catch in his mouth before he moved on to clear his throat. Maybe he wasn't expecting such a reaction from Dr. Reid. "Thanks, Pretty Boy. If you get anymore leads, or what could possibly be a lead, make sure you keep me in the loop."

The genius gave a smile he knew Morgan could see, well, sense. "Will do," Reid said, clicking the small glowing red button on the edge of his phone and snapping it shut.

After setting his phone lightly on the conference room table, he shuffled the papers on the table, setting them together on the wood and picking up his coffee mug. Taking a sip of the caffeinated beverage, soaked deeply in endless pure cane sugar, the boy who Garcia called Junior G-man was giving a small smirk from under the glass.

Aaron Hotchner hadn't been doing as well as he normally was considering Haley's death was still a little fresh in his mind.

He also hated the fact that he was being stalked again. Followed, shadowed, trailed; whatever word fit best at the time. Even if it wasn't only him that was being pursued, he just hated the feeling he was always being watched.

There was no doubt in his mind that whoever was killing at the locations they visited knew where the entire team was on a regular basis. The fact that someone must've taken their time to track each one of the agents separately was simply appalling. Point meaning, who would want to get rid of people who went the same places FBI agents went? And what was the motive to even do it in the first place? Hotch didn't see one. Right now, that was Reid's job.

Rossi stood next to him, both surrounded by paperwork and about to leave the room to have Garcia check some things for them. Endless amounts of manila folders were lying everywhere around the office; on the table, desks, thrown atop chairs, scattered all over the floor. Everywhere.

"What do you think, Hotch?" David Rossi asked, leaning over to pick up envelopes full of information and setting other papers back in them.

Hotch glanced over at the man closes to his age, watching him from the side.

David Rossi wasn't the type of man that Hotch thought would be a profiler, but he was damned good at his job. Maybe it was the look, the attitude, or maybe just his air. No one on their team really looked like someone who could do this job every day. Well, maybe Reid, but that's just because he's a genius, and looks the part of a genius.

"I'm guessing the unsub was or is a part of the FBI. It could be another branch, but I doubt it. He's probably closer to us than we think," Hotch said, flipping through files he needed Garcia to run through. "Let's go to Garcia and see what she can get for us."

Rossi nodded his head and walked away from the mess that was thrown around Hotch's office.

"Hopefully she can make something out of all of this. I'm pretty sure I can't," he replied, walking from the room and shutting the door behind him.

"At times one remains faithful to a cause only because its opponents do not cease to be insipid," as said by Friedrich Nietzsche.

Sadly, I don't like this chapter very much. I wish I had more a muse tonight/early morning. I'm grateful for the reviews, keep them coming! I should have chapter five up fairly soon.

The main reason I'm posting an end note on this chapter is because I have an announcement. I start school really early this year, August 12th. Ugh. Posting chapters might be a little more, well, difficult if I don't finish this before the school year. Hopefully, I do, but I can't make any promises. In the next week, I might not be able to post as much. Might not. I think I still will. But only in the day time. I have... other obligations at night now. And no, I'm not going to do anything weird, because the human mind might have already floated to whatever the hell you're thinking about now.. I just have to help my dad with some stuff and he works in the day time, and well, I don't have a license or anything yet -YET. I WILL GET IT SOON. :D- so I'm kind of worthless unless I can help his load and unload when we can do it on his hours. Anyway! Thank you for this weird.. .what ever it is. And yeah, later, I guess.