Hotchner called Morgan. "We've found our guy, so meet us here. I'm going to need you help. Something's happened."

"You need help? Reid? Is he okay?"

"He's fine," Hotchner said, glancing down at the man who still sat in the visitor's chair, tearing himself apart. "I'll tell you when you get here."

Reid felt horrible. No wonder Hotchner felt that he didn't belong on the team. The unsub had practically come up and introduced himself, and Reid had run away from him, because the guy felt creepy. He couldn't help but imagine the glee the unsub must have felt, seeing him retreat like that. He had won and BAU had lost, another woman had lost her life and it was Reid's fault. He simply should have known.

When Elle and Morgan came, Reid let Hotchner explain everything. They were very sympathetic and assured him that it wasn't his fault and that they would have done the same thing, the same mistake. But all Reid could hear was the pity in their voices.

The rational part of his brain was screaming at him to shut up and stop being so stupid, that he couldn't have known, but Reid disconnected it. He simply couldn't help but feel responsible. But his determination to catch this unsub only grew stronger so he swallowed his momentary self-pity and stood up on shaky legs ready to throw himself into his work again.

--

Hotchner handed Morgan the information about their unsub. "Call Garcia and ask her what she can dig up, okay?"

"Okay." He looked at the paper. "Eddie Willis… huh… that was a great movie."

"What movie?" Hotchner asked.

"The Harder They Fall from 1956. Humphrey Bogart's last movie. He plays a sport's writer called Eddie Willis. Do you think it's a coincidence?"

"I don't know. Probably not. He has to find his aliases somewhere. We'll see when we find out his other aliases."

Morgan turned away and called Garcia.

"Penelope's house of wax. How can I melt you today?"

"Hey Pen, it's me. We have an ID here that we are pretty sure is fake. Can you run it for us?"

"Sure thing, Cookie. Let me have it."

"His name is Eddie Willis…"

"Oh, that was a good movie."

"I didn't know you were a sport's movie fan, Garcia."

"I'm not, I'm just a Humphrey-girl. That voice sends shivers down my spine every time I hear it. What else have you got?"

Morgan rattled off the social security number and the other information. "We'll be back in a couple of hours. Can you have it by then?"

"Are you questioning my computer skills?"

"Never."

"All right then, I'll see you in a couple of hours."

--

They then spent some time questioning the rest of the hotel's staff. They all had pretty much the same things to say. Eddie was a great guy, very funny, very neat, a little flirtatious maybe but not in a bad way. Generous and social. Yes, he smoked. They had to be mistaken, he couldn't possibly be a serial killer, he was much too normal. No one had heard him talk about any family or friends. No one knew where to find him now. He had come and gone and everybody had liked him.

Having found what they were looking for, they got into the car and headed back to Quantico.

--

Reid and Morgan knocked lightly on the door to Garcia's room and let themselves in and then stopped and stared.

"What are you wearing?" Morgan asked, mouth hanging open.

"My amateur theatre group is putting on 'A Christmas Carol' tonight, and it helps me get into character."

"Funny," Morgan said. "I don't remember Tinkerbell from hell being in 'A Christmas Carol'. Who are you supposed to be?"

"I'm the Ghost of Christmas past. And we're not traditionalists. What do you think?" she asked Reid, twirling around once.

He eyed the black tutu skirt, the fishnet stockings, the bright-red bicycle shorts, the clogs, the Hell's Angels emblem on her top, the black and white feathers in her hair and the glitter on her cheeks.

"Sometimes you scare me."

Garcia beamed at him. "Ah, thanks Bubbles, I adore you too."

"Bubbles?" Morgan questioned.

"I thought I'd try out a new nickname for Reid!" Garcia explained cheerfully.

"Oh fun, can I play too?"

"No!" Reid's answered very firmly, wondering if asking for an immediate transfer to Antarctica would get him far enough from this living nightmare, but Garcia was in a merciful mood and turned very professional, presenting her findings.

"This is a fake, just as you thought. But it's a very, very good one. You would have to know it to see it. This guy is probably as good as I am. But if you follow the trail, you can see that Eddie Willis only existed for four short weeks. He was created on a computer at a hotel in New Orleans."

"Which is where the murder prior to Arlington took place. Do you have the name of the hotel?" Morgan asked.

"Sure thing, Peanut. I already sent it to JJ, who called the FBI office in New Orleans."

"And the photo?" Reid wanted to know.

"Has been sent out to every law enforcement office in the country."

"You're a pearl," Morgan said, kissing her sparkly cheek.

They turned to go when Garcia cleared her throat meaningly. When they turned back she stuck her cheek out at Reid, who dutifully kissed it too and mumbled his thanks.

--

They gathered in the round-table room, where JJ told them the same things Garcia had already told Morgan and Reid. She had mobilized the FBI in every city where there had been a murder to show the photo around all the hotels in the same district as the one where the murder had taken place. Then Hotchner filled her and Gideon in on what they had and hadn't learned in Arlington.

Hotchner sighed and looked at his watch. "Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. Why don't we just call it a day and meet back here on the 27th. We'll fly out to Atlantic City then."

"But…" Reid started.

"No buts, Reid," Hotchner interrupted him. "We chase serial killers all year long, we are going to spend Christmas with our families. You are not allowed to stay here and work. I'll see you all in a couple of days. Merry Christmas."

His Merry Christmas was echoed by the others as they gathered their things and left the room, listening to Morgan brag about his sister's cooking for the holidays. In the door, Gideon turned and noticed that Reid still sat at the table, fiddling with a pen. Gideon went back in and sat next to him.

"Hotchner told me about you and the unsub. Are you okay?"

"Sure." Reid sounded tired.

"It's not your fault, you know."

"I know."

"Is there something else you'd like to talk about?"

Was he imagining it, or did Reid hesitate for a moment before answering?

"No, everything is fine."

"What about Christmas? Do you have any plans?"

Suddenly Reid broke out in a huge grin. "I'm going to Fairmount to spend it with the Sanderses. I'm flying out tonight."

"Really? That's great." Gideon felt relieved. He hadn't actually expected Reid to have any plans, since he didn't really have any family besides his mother or friends outside the BAU. "And you're sure everything is alright?"

"Yes. I have to go now, if I'm going to make my plane. Merry Christmas, Gideon."

"Merry Christmas." Gideon stayed in his seat as Reid exited, hoping that the younger man would be ready to talk about what was bothering him soon. Because Gideon did not believe that he was as fine as he would like people to think.

--

Reid set down his duffel bag on the floor inside his front door, sighing. As wonderful as Christmas had been, it had also been exhausting. He had offered to stay at a hotel, but the Sanders' wouldn't hear of it. They had met him at the airport and Bailey had immediately thrown himself in his arms. They had come home to a house full of family. There was a grandmother who kept calling him 'young man' and pat his cheek, and an aunt who took to stuffing food into his mouth every time she laid eyes on him, making him start to peek around corners before entering a room. There were lots of little cousins, wide-eyed with awe at being in the presence of a real life FBI agent and a dog that lay down on his feet every time he sat down. He'd helped decorate the tree, eaten gingerbread cookies, built snowmen, had snowball fights and drunk hot chocolate with a little something extra in it, courtesy of Uncle Robert. There had been laughter, caroling, storytelling and lots and lots of hugs and sloppy kisses, and not all from Bailey.

Because of all the guests, all children had been put on mattresses in their respective parents' rooms, but Bailey had promptly moved his mattress into Reid's room, making three other little boys follow his lead. The parents had been apologetic, but Reid had asked them to let it be. The sound of four children breathing through their mouths and mumbling in their sleep had made Reid sleep better than he had in a long time. He had even brought Einstein, the teddy bear his team had given him at the hospital in Fairmount, and Bailey was overjoyed and had slept with both Einstein and his stuffed dog Pox in his bed.

And there was an indescribable joy in being pounced on at six in the morning by a five-year-old shouting, "Get up, get up, there are presents!" And there were presents. All the packages he'd brought had been duly examined and then ripped open accompanied by pleasured shouts. He was accused of spoiling the children, but took it in stride. There were also presents for him. Knitted sweaters and gloves, Kindergarten-projects, homemade cookies and candy. He felt like he was the one being spoiled.

Bailey seemed to be doing well, he was a very happy and healthy child during the day. But at night he'd come out in his pajama and want to sit on his lap with his thumb in his mouth until he fell asleep. His mother told Reid that he had started this behavior when they had moved him back to his own bedroom, but for now Reid was happy to comply. The warm body, heavy with sleep, healed something in his own heart he had not known was broken.

There had been plenty of tears when he left, and he had been profoundly thanked over and over again for giving them the chance to celebrate Christmas as a whole family. He had promised to come back for Bailey's sixth birthday party in April.

But for now he had a whole day until his Christmas break was over, and he knew exactly how he would spend it. An hour later he was at the BAU headquarters, picking up where he had left off a few days ago.

Reports had begun to come in from their national-wide hotel search and Reid read through them all. All FBI offices had been able to find the unsub's records in a hotel in the same district as the murder had taken place. But it was Wentworth's report from Las Vegas that disturbed him the most.

Wentworth had first gone to the hotel where they had been staying, and where Reid and the unsub had met, but the personnel manager there hadn't recognized them man on the photo. So Wentworth had taken his inquiries to other hotels and had found him at the Mastriano, next-door to Lohan's. Reid again felt a wave of failure wash over him. That meant that the unsub had gone to their hotel and dressed up as a waiter just to taunt him. If only he had seen it…

The unsub had used different aliases every time. Bill Starbuck, Tom Garrett, Burt Hanson, Charles Benton… When he looked them up on the Internet he found out that they were all leading characters in movies from 1956. What was so significant with 1956, he wondered. It couldn't be the unsub's birth year. He was much younger than that. A parent's birth year maybe?

He spent a lot of time researching 1956, but couldn't find anything that would be relevant to the case.

The afternoon vanished and turned into night. When became too hungry to be able to ignore it anymore, he went down a couple of floors and found a vending machine that wasn't completely empty. Together with break room coffee and Morgan's secret snack stash, he filled up and went back to work and morning crept up on him without him noticing.

--

For the second time in less than a week, the BAU team arrived at the office, finding Reid already at his desk, looking just as dejected as he had done the last time. This time he didn't have any good news or new breakthrough discoveries to tell them about, though, and he seemed to be almost ashamed about that fact.

They settled down for a morning meeting. After they had gone through the findings of the other offices, Morgan spoke up.

"I've thought about something," he said. "The bedspreads."

"What about the bedspreads?" Hotchner wanted to know.

Morgan turned to Reid. "Remember what you told me in Vegas, Reid, about the Tyson trail? How much DNA there could be on a hotel bedspread?"

Reid nodded, not sure where he was going with thought. "Yeah…"

"Well, the bedspreads from the crime scenes haven't been tested. And look at the crime scene photos. In every one the bedspread is neatly folded into almost the same size, laying somewhere near the bed. Maybe the unsub did it. We know he's almost pathologically neat."

Elle checked her the files on her laptop. "The bedspread is logged as evidence at seven crime scenes, but have only been cursory checked. There was blood splatter on four of them, but no other tests were done."

"Contact the forensics offices that have bedspreads and have them test them immediately. Tell them to send their findings to Garcia and have her compile it. Good thinking, Morgan." Hotchner patted him in the shoulder.

"I… but…" Morgan gestured to Reid, wanting to acknowledge where the idea had come from, but Hotchner had left the room, and Reid was talking to Gideon and not looking at him. Elle smiled at him though, so his generosity didn't go unnoticed.

--

An hour or so later Hotchner came up to Reid.

"Can you come into my office, please?" he said quietly.

Reid felt a stab of panic, but got up and followed him.

Hotchner let Reid precede him into his office and then closed the door behind him, but he didn't move, he stayed in the door opening. Did he think Reid was going to make a run for it?

Reid waited, while Hotchner seemed to be collecting his thoughts.

"I… I was just down to the security office and checked your log-in status."

"Why?" It sounded more like an accusation than a question, and Reid winched at his own tone. But Hotchner ignored the question.

"It said that you came here at midday yesterday and hasn't left the building since. Why is that? I believe I told you you weren't allowed to stay and work over the Christmas break."

Reid shrugged, looking away. "I just thought we had a lot to do, that's all. I guess I just forgot about the time."

"Give it a rest, Reid. Take a break. There's no need to work yourself into the grave."

"Yes, there is." Oops, he hadn't meant to say that and he mentally berated himself for the slip.

"Why?"

"It's personal."

"What do you mean it's personal?

Reid didn't want to talk about it, but Hotchner stood firm in the door opening. Reid sank down on a chair, leaning his head in his hands, looking at his shoes.

"I mean that it's private. Please, let it be."

"No. There's no such thing as private in this kind of investigation. You will tell me now, or so help me, I'll have you pulled from the case."

Reid looked up, staring at him. Was this it? Was this what he had wanted to do all along? Maybe he had just been waiting for an excuse. Was he actually serious? The arms crossed over the chest and the little wrinkle between the eyebrows said that he was. He looked down again and said softly,

"I knew her."

"You knew who? One of the victims?" Hotchner uncrossed his arms, surprise written all over his face.

"Yes, the fifth one. Ann Shava. We went to school together."

"Dammit, Reid. You have to tell us things like that!" Hotchner had unconsciously raised his voice, making Reid flinch. Seeing this, he deliberately lowered it again, as he walked further into the room and put a hand on Reid's shoulder. He tensed, but did not pull away.

"Were you friends?"

Reid gave a small laugh. "Oh, no. She was a bully. She used to steal my lunch money at least three times a week. I guess she figured that if she ate with my money, she could spend hers on make-up. She had this goth-look going on. She'd lock me into the girl's locker room too, every once in a while. I couldn't stand her. Luckily I graduated before her. But look at her file. A pro-bono attorney, a foster parent. She grew up and became a great person that I never got to meet."

"And?" Hotchner prompted.

"And… I've never known a victim before, never outside the investigation. It's… different."

"I know. It makes it more difficult, makes you wish even more that you were omnipotent. But you can't let it get to you. I'm not saying to forget about it, but try not to think about it too much. It could distract you horribly at the wrong time. And you can always come and talk to any of us about this. Or go back to your physiatrist. Just don't let it get to you too much."

Reid looked up. "So, are you going to pull me?"

"No, but don't take on too much. We're a team, we're supposed to do this together. And don't keep things to yourself anymore. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

But inside he flinched at the lie. He knew he should confront Hotchner with what he had heard at the plane, but at times, like right now, Hotchner behaved as if nothing was wrong, and Reid started second-guessing himself. Maybe he wanted him to stay after all.

He would just have to work even harder, to prove he belonged. To keep the benevolent part of Hotchner appeased.

--

TBC