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Penelope Garcia was stressed. The usually cheerful and optimistic blond was at the end of her metaphorical tether and it infuriated her. She had spent almost her entire day chasing leads and checking parameters and she had come up with nothing. Nada. It wasn't often that Garcia considered giving up, but today it seemed she was constantly coming up short and no matter how much love and passion she threw into her work, nothing was coming up. Perhaps it was because she was so emotionally involved in this case, having watched her new friends in New York's White Collar Division run themselves ragged in their frantic search for their friend and tried to keep up with their own constant intake of exhausting work. It was only made worse when Morgan had revealed to her Reid's own personal connection to Neal Caffrey; leaving her feeling more and more desperate to save a man she now felt she knew like the back of her hand.

Part of her job had been to investigate the ex-con, to weasel her way into every detail of his life and see if she could find any further links in their unsub's victimology; but so far all she could see from her hours of research was that they all looked similar with their dark hair and blue eyes. The further she pried the sadder she became, reading past case reports about his work-most of them written by the pained agent sat opposite her-witnessing the fruits of the young man's labour in the FBI and discovering long forgotten psych-evaluations and therapy sessions from his time in imprisonment. To Garcia, Neal Caffrey seemed like a hopeless romantic; a fallen angel willing to sell his soul to the devil and fight his way back to heaven for the one he loved and she had to choke back sobs when she read the tragic end to their fantastical love story, the words written like some beautiful fiction about a love that Garcia had once believed only to have existed in the fanatical movies of Hollywood. Garcia felt like she should hug the guy, offer her shoulder for him to cry on even though she knew perfectly well that to him, she was but a stranger. What was it they always said about good people suffering the most? Being taken from the world too early? Garcia had expected to somehow hate the young man, knowing that he had deceived people into trusting him, cheated them and left them with nothing but the haunting blue eyes etched in their memories; but he was nothing like she had anticipated, just a guy with a talent for the arts who lacked the support of a loving family to keep him on the straight and narrow.

Glancing up, Garcia caught the wearied, worried expression of Peter Burke and a smiled licked at her lips. It seemed the con had found a family here; people who cared deeply for him and were driving themselves into the ground to save him…perhaps because they knew that no one else would, that otherwise the brilliant star would fade away with the knowledge that no one was looking for him, no one was coming. Garcia's face grew sombre and she ducked her away from the older man. It wasn't fair for her to think such things when he was working so hard; and Garcia was going to make damned sure that she met Neal Caffrey and at least thanked him for helping out one of her dearest friends. Her eyes narrowed determinedly as she stared darkly at the screen of her laptop, daring the answers to leap out and hit her in the face but still nothing came to her. She was aware that every so often a shadow would pass over her shoulder, reaching to place another hot, steaming coffee on the costa beside her but she was too engaged in the puzzle to pay particular attention to anything specific; occasionally mumbling a grateful reply before taking a large gulp of the invigorating liquid.

"Hey baby girl. Any luck?"

Garcia was startled so badly she almost tossed the coffee fitted snugly in her hands and collapsed in a hysterical pile on the floor. Morgan just chuckled tiredly at her reaction, looking stiff and tense as Garcia steadied herself and pushed the chair beside her out so that he could sit. She was surprised to see it was dark outside; the wind howling as clawed and scraped at the walls of their safe confine and the rain felted the windows mercilessly. The storm had certainly picked up and Garcia grew teary-eyed at the prospect of Neal's life shortening, wondering how much longer he had left. Thunder rumbled through the room, making her ribcage vibrate with the deep, emptiness of the sound and lightning flashed in a bright arc across the ebony clouds.

"The storm's getting worse." was all Garcia could whisper as she looked forlornly at the alien landscape out of the office window, feeling the oppressive power of Mother Nature.

Morgan's eyes flicked up and through the window before he quickly averted his gaze "Yeah."

"He doesn't have much time…" Garcia turned to look at her friend directly in his chocolaty brown eyes "…does he?"

Silence was her only reply as Morgan chewed nervously on the inside of his cheek and shuffled his feet anxiously, slowly stepping forward and sliding into the seat beside the analyst. Garcia wiped away the moisture from her eyes, finally noticing that the office beyond was practically empty save for a few members of the BAU and the higher members of the White Collar Division, including Peter, Jones and Diana.

"What are we going to do?"

"If worse comes to worse…" Morgan looked at the others over his shoulder with a solemn expression before sighing "We catch this guy and do our best to help them move on."

Garcia frowned slightly, her nose scrunching up delicately "You don't sound very hopeful."

"How can I be? This is the reason we don't promise people we can save their loved ones; sometimes we're too late. All we can do is make sure that Caffrey is the last person to get hurt."

Garcia's breath hitched involuntarily and she shook her head, brushing away a loose lock of hair that had crept across her face. Morgan sat forward and placed a comforting hand on the small of Garcia's back, his soft hands moving in calm, soothing circles as she held back her tears.

"We cannot give up." she gushed, sitting straighter and turning back to the lines of information on the monitor, her voice growing bolder and more even "Talk to me…give me the profile."

"Garcia…don't do this to yourself-"

"Derek!"

Morgan visibly flinched at the force of her words, catching her eye as he pondered his next actions before sighing deeply and sitting back in his seat in acquiescence; knowing arguing with the feisty blond would get him nowhere.

A deep voice echoed from behind them "Our unsub has an aim; there's a reason why he kills these men. We find that…we find our killer."

Spinning round, they turned to see Rossi stood nonchalantly in doorway, arms folded over his chest and a wizened expression on his face.

Garcia allowed a small, bright smile to touch her lips as she dabbed at her puffy eyes "Rossi."

Rossi smiled in return, moving further into the room as Morgan sat up straighter "But we don't know how he's killing them?"

"True, but we do know our unsub has a very specific type and we now know that the only contact between him and his victims is through sight." Rossi pressed on, wandering to the other side of the table and lounging in another spare seat "He abducts them for a reason, one that almost certainly is incredibly important to his motive."

"Okay…so he sees them…and he can't control himself…so they must represent someone to him?" Garcia muttered vaguely, her manicured nails hovering over the keyboard as her mind raced to find something to search.

"Exactly, we need to focus on who this person could be that he feels so much hate toward them."

"A loved one or a friend then?" JJ stepped into the room with Blake at her side, flicking back her loose hair and coming to sit beside Garcia.

Morgan grimaced and shook his head in disagreement "He would have left some kind of message or made it more personal. The drowning is probably linked to something in his own past."

"Then maybe he sees these men as…versions of himself?" Blake answered quickly, her eyes darting to the others seated around her "But why would he wish to punish himself like that?"

"It's far too remorseful to be guilt for murder and there are no other murders for at least twenty years similar to this one." JJ chewed on the end of her nail as she thought, inviting the others to share their own opinion.

"So what if it's not that kind of guilt," Rossi's voice heightened with enlightenment and he sat forward in his seat "Maybe this is regret…our unsub see's these as younger versions of himself who should have died. He's recreating a memory…a past scenario as he feels it should have happened."

Morgan's eyes lit up at the revelation, his own brilliance shining through as his idea formed as he turned to Garcia excitedly "Garcia, search for deaths similar to drowning in New York city in the past five years…maybe our unsub lost a loved one."

"Sorry hot stuff but that's still too broad." Garcia apologised hesitantly, clicking her tongue as she fiddled awkwardly with her pen.

There was a quiet cough from the doorway and everyone turned to face a sheepish looking Jones, the stitches still evident across the side of his face "I was thinking about…the method of…you-know the killing…"

His statement was met with silence and the others watched him expectantly as he trailed inside, shifting nervously under their steely gaze. Jones was all obviously all too aware that he was talking to a room of experienced profilers about his own amateurish ideas about their expert field and Garcia knew all too well how that felt.

"There are storm pipes under the city, used for draining the excess water off the streets during these kinds of disasters. They're definitely large enough to fit people in and they've been used for trafficking by cartels for years however they flood regularly so they're less usable nowadays."

"So, you think that our unsub's taking our victims underground and leaving them there?" Blake asked quizzically, gesturing slowly with a free hand as she rubbed the wedding ring with her thumb.

"It makes sense, and it explains how he's killing our vics." JJ agreed sensibly, as she removed her finger from her mouth and nodded, her hair flicking as she moved "But where does he take them? I mean the tunnels have to be well maintained, right? And it still doesn't explain why he's killing them."

"Some of the tunnels are abandoned, cordoned off because they don't pose any danger to the public if they flood." Jones informed them, looking more confident know that his theory had been appreciated.

Rossi pursed his lips and stroked his beard thoughtfully "So he takes them down to one of these abandoned pipes…he must have some kind of history there, a reason why he takes them down there that links to victimology."

"If they're abandoned, then they're probably in bad shape, right?" Garcia intervened in the discussion, looking to the others hopefully "Maybe, our sicko had some kind of accident there?"

"Garcia, look up any fatalities linked with one of the tunnels in the last few years?" Blake asked clearly, narrowing her ideas at the analyst as she sat forward and began to type frantically.

"Okay…three recorded deaths in the last five years…the nearest one was two years ago…" Garcia frowned as she clicked on the file and her eyes skimmed over the information "…a couple…Alexander Reader and Laura Teller…they fell in through a broken grate whilst walking down an alley on the outskirts of the city…they were in there for thirty-one hours before someone heard Reader's screams for help, by which point…oh no…Laura had drowned and he was pulled out of the water clutching her recently dead body…firefighters said it was a miracle he was alive and he was admitted to hospital for three weeks with severe hypothermia…his therapist said he was incredibly guilty for Laura's death and has never gotten over it."

"Matches the profile," Morgan stated clearly, turning to the others and watching their mirrored expressions "Do we have a picture?"

"Yep, here."

Garcia swivelled the screen and the profilers leaned forward to stare at the screen and the picture of a young man with dark hair and bright blue eyes staring back at them.

"Alexander Reader is definitely our guy." Morgan smiled and clapped Garcia on the shoulder, his own personal gratitude reflected in his eyes.

"Can you pull up an address, Garcia?" JJ asked politely, her blue eyes sparkling with new energy as she was cheered up by the prospect of a rescue.

Garcia clicked her tongue as she tapped quickly at the keyboard again "Hang on a sec, honey…uhhh nope. Reader terminated all his bank accounts and pulled out all the money before selling his house and dropping off the radar…he did however leave Laura's account open and there have been a number of withdrawals across the city…including a mobile phone contract."

"Can you trace the phone?" Morgan popped up excitedly, jumping out of his chair and coming up behind the blond so that he was leaning over her shoulder.

"Almost…" Garcia paused on the word, as if savouring its taste as she tapped another key with the end of her pen "Okay…it's not on right now but it seems Reader's made a call in the last couple of hours…triangulating from where the signal bounced over the towers…oh my god…"

"What? What is it?"

Garcia turned to look at Morgan with wide, watery eyes "He was here. Our unsub was outside the FBI building."