"Riley!" Reid urged, running after her. They reached the lobby, and Riley was still heading away at a speedy walk. Those in the reception area watched them with interest, just like those in the sitting room. "Riley!"

"I don't need any explanation, thanks." Riley snapped.

"Riley, please, you're not being rational right now. Just listen to me." Reid began.

Riley turned around. Her curls whipped around ferociously, like they were some kind of weapon. "Spencer, she had no idea who I was! Can you tell me what the rational decorum is in a circumstance like this!"

"I know this is hard to understand-" Reid tried to explain.

Riley cut him off, "You know, I was certain, before we came here, that your mother wouldn't know we were living together, that was a given. And I thought that, at the worst, she wouldn't know I was your girlfriend. But not once… not once did I even consider she wouldn't know I exist."

Reid tried to keep calm, trying to ease her temper down as well. "Okay, I know I handled this badly-"

She stopped yelling, and it was a sign her anger was reaching dangerous levels. Her tone stern, "Handled this badly? Spencer, you write her a letter almost every day. You've been to see her three times in the last year. You didn't mention me once. And to top it off, you didn't even bother warning me. Handled badly is an understatement. I thought I meant more to you than that."

He hesitated a long time. Reid might have an engagement ring and a plan to propose, but that wouldn't do him any good right now. He couldn't find the right words, not wanting to say the wrong thing.

"You know, your lack of a response does not inspire me with a lot of confidence." She continued towards the door.

"Riley, wait, please don't leave." Reid cried.

Riley turned back around, her fingers on the handle. Both were fully aware they had a captivated audience around them. Riley certainly did not care. "Spencer, I'm going back to the hotel. I'm going to pack my bag and I'm going back to Quantico today. If you're with me, that's fine, but I am not waiting for you."

She headed out the door before he could say anything. Reid hurried through the silent lobby to say goodbye to his mother. He didn't have much time to catch up to her.

"Miss Archer," a voice said outside the dressing room.

The stage hand stood in the doorframe, trying to get the young actress's attention. She should have been looking over lines, but instead her attention was on the mysterious letter that had arrived this morning.

As a celebrity, Lila was used to all kinds of fan mail. Some were flattering and others were not so savory… but this was extreme even for hate mail.

Lila would never pretend she was an innocent person, but what "sins" could she be associated with that would be considered horrible and demoralizing? "Can you imagine," it read, "the lives affected because of you? The deaths. You are too close to this evil. This disease, it must continue to be cleansed. With you. The horrible, demoralizing sins from the whore…" Certainly, the words couldn't mean she was the whore? She wasn't a pure girl, but she was far from a whore.

"Miss Archer?" the stagehand said again.

Lila turned surprised. "Yes?" she exclaimed.

"They're almost ready to shoot," he explained.

She nodded, trying to shake the bone chilling fear the letter infused in her. "Thank you," she replied. "I'll be right there."

The stagehand stepped away, leaving her alone. It was probably just a threat. She tossed the letter on her make-up counter and stood up, checking her appearance over one more time before leaving. Still, it wasn't easy to shake from her mind.

Something like this had happened before. When Maggie, her friend from college, had become obsessed over her. And that brought her mind onto a person long since gone from her life. Spencer Reid.

They hadn't spoken since they had said goodbye six years ago. Spencer had been her hero. Lila had hoped he would call, but he never had. Most men would have jumped at the chance to date her. That just made him all the more special. They had both moved on, and wherever Spencer was, she hoped he was happy.

It was probably just a letter. It had to be nothing, just something to get under her skin. But maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was something much more serious, maybe something that would bring Spencer Reid into her life again.

Close to four o'clock that afternoon, the work week was almost to an end. Usually, the team would be making plans on heading out for drinks by now. Instead, Morgan and JJ stood shocked in the bull pen, their attention completely focused on Hotch's door, which had closed moments before.

"What's she doing here?" Morgan voiced, amazed.

"She didn't say," JJ informed. "She just… walked into my office five minutes ago and demanded to speak to Hotch." She paused, wondering. "Have you, I mean…"

"I haven't seen her for…" Morgan thought back. "…four years. She cut off contact with everyone on the team as soon as she quit."

"Since who quit?" Rossi asked as he appeared. Emily was right beside him.

"Elle Greenaway," JJ said. "She's talking to Hotch in his office."

"Who is she?" Emily asked. She took a glance at the closed door, as if it were about to open and the woman would over hear them.

"She was a member of the team a few years ago." JJ explained. "You were her replacement, actually."

"Elle was shot when we were working on a case." Morgan continued. "She was never really able to recover from that… she ended up having a kind of melt down."

"Wow," Emily replied. She had never actually suspected to meet the agent she had replaced at all, let alone today.

They waited impatiently. Elle had left this unit and everything in it behind. She had to do what was best for her, and they understood that. So any reason she felt the need to return today… it had to be serious.

Waiting anxiously, they didn't speak much to each other. Time passed slowly with no results. Finally, after about a half an hour, they received another surprise when Reid walked in and went to his desk.

"Spence?" JJ asked. "What are you doing here?"

"We thought you were in Vegas until Sunday," Morgan added.

"Well," He muttered, ignoring their questioning eyes. "We had a change of plans."

Hotch, like the rest of the team, hadn't seen Elle in four years. He remembered vividly their last conversation, leaving her badge and gun on her desk, and leaving this place like it meant nothing to her. She had barely changed. Her hair was much longer, having possibly not been cut in the last four years, and it was back to it's original color, and her already skinny body was thinner. Hotch suspected it was the result of light eating and heavy drinking.

Her arms were folded over her chest in annoyance. She had a cold stare about her, like her soul had been removed and stashed somewhere for safe keeping. The silence in the room lasted for several long expectant minutes.

"Look, you know I wouldn't be here if I weren't desperate." Elle finally admitted.

"I understand that, but I'm not sure there's anything we can do." Was Hotch's reply. "If you still worked for the FBI, that would be one thing-"

"I knew this was a waste of time." She said, standing up, grabbing her jacket from the other chair.

"Elle, please wait." Hotch called as she reached the door. "I want to help you, I'm just don't think that's possible."

Elle turned around. She leaned on the door, folding her jacket into her arms. "I didn't say I wanted police details or a full federal investigation… I just want a professional opinion. Maybe something I can show the police that this deserves more attention."

With a nod, Hotch thought carefully. If Elle had been fully sane, she'd probably still be working with the BAU. In the light from setting sun, he could see how pale she was. The poor woman was not well; probably a mixture of both physical and mental illness. He had an idea.

"I know the team would be more than willing to help you." Hotch said, standing up. "But I'm reluctant to bring this to them … until we're certain you're reasons are entirely objective."

She gave a disbelieving chortle with an edgy smile. "I cannot believe you are going there. You think I'm crazy."

"If you want our help, you'll do it my way." Hotch stood before her, that same serious look he used to stare his subordinates down. "Before I bring this to the team, you will undergo a psych analysis."

"I'm not talking to a shrink." She stated.

"No one's forcing you." Hotch explained. "But if you want answers, you will speak to a psychiatrist. I don't mean something serious, just one simple interview."

Hotch took a glance to the window into the bull pen. Everyone stood around, curious as to the sudden reappearance to the former Agent Greenaway. He heard a conceding sigh from Elle as she answered, "When?"

"I'll call someone I know, she won't mind doing me a favor." Hotch explained, watching as Reid walked toward the break room. "I have a feeling she's back in town."

Reid's emotions were seeking to escape out of the surface. He knew Morgan was close behind him. "Reid," Morgan cried, rushing to catch up.

Reid went over to the coffee, grabbing a mug to serve himself. His hands, however, shaking slightly, did not get a strong grip on the handle. The porcelain mug slipped from his grasp onto the floor, shattering into a dozen pieces.

Heaving a sigh, Reid bent down to pick up the mess. Morgan stood watching the commotion. "What's going on, man?"

"What's going on is a need to get this cleaned up." Reid snapped, taking a quick glance at his friend. "A person can suffer terminal injuries including a severed artery just from one small shard of glass."

"And that would be important if anyone in the office walked around in their bare feet." Morgan stepped further into the room. "Riley said 'no', didn't she?"

"No," Reid said, standing up to discard the smashed mug.

Morgan was confused. "No, she didn't say no or… no that's not it?"

"I didn't ask her yet." Reid explained. "We didn't get that far…"

"Well then what happened?" Morgan stepped in, making their conversation a bit more private. Reid's hand sloshed the glass into the garbage, annoyed he just couldn't be left alone. It swished from his hand too quickly, slicing a few layers of skin.

He uttered a swear under his breath, going to the sink to wash off the emerging blood. Morgan decided a change of subject might help him calm down a bit. "Elle's here, by the way."

He looked up in shock, wondering if this were some ploy to catch him off guard. "What for?"

"She just showed up," Morgan said, going to grab himself some coffee. His blood began to clot, the wound barely noticeable. Reid took a second attempt at getting a cup, wondering.

This was odd. His parents were threatened, his old friend murdered, and now Elle Greenaway shows up out of nowhere. Three random things were not random, he was sure. He'd been an agent far too long to believe in such things. It was a huge jigsaw puzzle in which Reid was being handed only one piece at a time. So far, he saw no picture.