"Excuse me? Henry Mills?"

Henry startled at the sound of his name being called, flinching at the appearance of the two people suddenly beside him. Roni saw his momentary distress, ever observant, and the mostly-failed writer pushed down the fondness that rushed up when the bartender immediately looked like she was ready to fight on his behalf.

"My name is Derek Morgan, I'm a Supervisory Special Agent with the FBI," A tall, buff man greeted him with a polite smile. "This is SSA Jennifer Jareau. We're with the Behavioral Analysis Unit."

The BAU?

As Henry began to try and piece together why FBI agents would know his name, Roni drifted closer - waving for Remy to take over watching the bar. "Everything alright over here?"

"Yeah, Roni, I'm fine," Henry was quick to assure her, shooting her a quick smile as he closed his laptop and turned to face the agents fully, manners around cops instilled from growing up in foster care coming back in a flash. "Please excuse me, I was just …"

"Startled?" Agent Jareau, a pretty blonde woman with a gentle smile, supplied for him, not unkindly. "Don't worry, Mr. Mills, you're not in trouble. We would just like to speak with you."

"Oh?" Henry relaxed, even if out of the corner of his eye he could tell that Roni hadn't. "I didn't think I was, but you know the automatic reacti-"

"Henry!"

Of all the times for Lucy to barrel into the bar, it had to be when Roni's liquor license could be put on the line.

"Lucy!" Henry was completely sidetracked by the chipper kid. "I've told you a hundred times, you can't be in a bar . You're like ten!"

" Eleven ," She corrected with all the righteous fury of a preteen. "And anyway, Roni doesn't mind."

"No, Roni doesn't have any power over you," The woman herself cuts in, tilting an eyebrow as she spoke in the third person. "But Roni does have Jacinda's phone number. And some … guests… ?"

"But Roni … " Lucy whines, and Henry abruptly remembers - thanks to Roni's pointed remark - the two FBI agents watching the interaction with amused and very insightful eyes.

Crap.

"Whatever you need me for, would you prefer it to be private?" Henry finally pulls himself together, glancing at how Roni was making Lucy a hot chocolate (and he's still convinced the reason she keeps stocking the stuff is because of the kid, no one else drinks it). "We can talk in Roni's back room or …"

"Wait, why do you need Henry?" Lucy suddenly pipes in again, eyes narrowed at the Agents and probably three seconds away from a curse-related spiel. "Did you work for my Grandma?"

"I don't think we know your grandma - Lucy?" Jareau answers, her voice going up at the question of the girl's name. "We're with the FBI."

"Oh," Lucy's eyes went wide. "Are you gonna arrest the people who killed my grandma, then?"

" Lucy ," Roni hissed, suddenly looking very defensive. Her glare at the agents was half anger and half scrutinizing.

"Lucy?" Agent Morgan spoke in a softer voice, crouching down to be at eye level with the kid. "What's your grandma's name?"

"She was Victoria Belfrey," Lucy informed them primly, and Henry wanted to dissolve into the floor at the familiar tone Jacinda's daughter was taking. "But she was also Lady Tremaine, and Rapunzul, and the Wicked Stepmother."

"O- kay ," Henry shoved his laptop into his bag. "Lucy, tell your mom I'll be by later for board game night; Roni, please make sure she doesn't run out half cocked again. Agents?"

He none too subtly nodded towards Roni's back room, and didn't even check to see if the strangers were following before he collapsed into his usual chair, burrowing his face in his arms - if only for a moment. He had a long week.

Why hadn't Rogers given him a heads up about this?

"Sorry about that," Henry apologized after a moment, when he had gathered himself. "Lucy's been through a lot in the last couple days."

"It's not a problem," Morgan assured him, smiling in sympathy. "That was Ms. Belfrey's granddaughter?"

"Step-granddaughter if you want to get technical," Henry clarified with a twitch of his lips. "She believes that her Mom is actually Cinderella, and that her horribly mean - and now dead - step-grandma was the Wicked Stepmother from the story."

Henry shook himself, putting on his I'm-talking-to-a-publisher-please-pay-me-money face. "But that's not why you're here. What can I do for you, Agents?"

"You wrote and produced the popular podcast H-Town, correct?" Jareau checked with him, and continued at his nod. "Then you are aware that you've referenced several of the central factors in this … "Candy Killer" case in your early episodes, the ones that have come out so far."

"Oh, yes," Henry nodded, back on familiar ground - though still confused. "But anything that was in those episodes Detective Rogers also knows. Have you met Detective Rogers?"

"Yes, we have," Morgan confirmed. "But you see, it has to do with jurisdiction. We managed to come help with this case due to a technicality. There have been three victims, but not three deaths - and they may not all be victims of the same killer. What we want is to make as few waves as possible."

"So you want to get as much outside information you can before you get into the stuff only the police know, so you step on less toes," Henry nodded, understanding "Well, anything to help find a killer. Where would you like this done?"

"Careful," A lilting voice called up from above them. "Looking too closely tends to mean that you miss the obvious."

Rossi and Reid both looked up, tearing their eyes away from the inscribed circle on the greenhouse floor - both pairs of eyes landing on an open window. An open window with a blonde, scruffy looking woman hanging out of it.

"Oh?" Rossi asked, voice light. "I apologize. I don't tend to look up."

"You should," The woman - girl, really - nodded with authority. "Maybe try looking upside-down, too. I find that that helps."

"What's your name?" Reid asked, smiling up at the woman with amusement.

"What's yours?" The blonde shot back, not defensive but playful - before getting suddenly serious. "And anyway, names won't find the monster that did that ."

She nodded at the circle, turning her eyes away from it quickly.

"Did you see what happened here?" Reid asked the nameless woman. "And I'm Dave. This is Spencer."

"Are you Davy Jones?" She asked with interest. "I like pirates, I think."

"No, I'm not a pirate," Rossi smiled, trying to be patient - using his talking to the ill voice. "Do you know any pirates?"

"I used to, but I don't now," She looked pensive, then shook herself out of it. "Pity you're not. We could use a pirate."

"Did you see what happened here?" Reid repeated Rossi's question, stepping slowly closer to the floor under the window - closer to the girl.

"Tilly," She states suddenly, adjusting her bag and throwing up her hood. "Tell Weaver I think you're alright."

And then she was gone.

"Agent Hotchner, I don't know why you think you're needed here," Hotch watched as the Detective - Weaver - practically ground his teeth together as his younger partner watched on. "This is outside of your jurisdiction, and I know full well that no one called you here."

"Because you would've stopped them?" Hotch replied levelly. "Detective, I understand that you are unwilling to ask for help, but I have to insist that since you have a third victim that you allow us to help."

"But there are two different killers," The partner - Rogers, maybe - spoke up for the first time. "The Cult and the Candy Killer are two different bodies altogether."

"We don't name serial killers," Emily corrected swiftly, sharing a look with Hotch. "It gives them power they don't deserve, and disrespects the victims."

"Trust me, I don't like it either," Rogers huffed quietly. "But the men have started to call him that and it stuck before I could stop it."

"More to the point," Hotch brought them back on track. "Yes, the two groups of unsubs are distinct from each other, but they are also working in tandem with each other. That makes it our jurisdiction."

"Fine," Weaver growled, gesturing to a room off to the side of the station. "All yours. Make yourself comfortable ."

"Let's see what we got on this Mills guy," Rossi suggested, flipping through the book in his hands, gazing at the heavily annotated pages. "With all the red ink, I'd say that he's not our killer, but Mills may be able to give some insight into our unsub."

"Garcia," Hotch greeted once their technical analyst answered the phone. "See what you can find on a Henry Mills. He's an author who wrote a book called Once Upon a Time ."

"Oh!" Garcia exclaimed eagerly, more bubbly than usual. " I love that book!"

"You're familiar with it?" Rossi asked as he passed it to Reid to read.

" Oh yeah, it's great. Didn't sell well, but well loved in the right circles," Garcia expanded, typing heard at the other end of the line. " Let's see. Henry Mills … current Seattle resident, works as a Swyft driver to pay his bills … He hasn't written anything since Once. Does some occasional catering gigs …"

"What connection does he have to the victims?" Emily cut into her musing. "Dr. Sage, or Ms. Braeburn? Ms. Belfrey?"

" Well he's no connection to the first two," Garcia clarified. " But according to social media, our writer spent Halloween drinking with Victoria Belfrey's daughter, Ivy."

"We need to talk to this man," Hotch decided.