Around lunchtime their plane touched ground in Atlantic City. They were met by their liaison, Agent Louise Fisher. She was a short woman, about Gideon's age, with jet-black hair pulled back in a strict bun. She had an air of no-nonsense about her that the BAU would soon come to appreciate.

As they were walking across the tarmac to the waiting cars, Morgan jogged up to Reid. "So, Reid," he said amiably. "You're not banned from any casinos in Atlantic City, are you?"

He never got answer, however, because at that moment, his phone rang.

"Morgan."

"I've got good news," Garcia chirped in the phone. "Five out of seven labs have found matching epithelial cells on the bedspreads. They sent me the DNA-profile and I ran it through CODIS and got a match."

"That was fast, exceptionally fast actually. How did you do that?" Morgan said as he got into the back of one of the cars that were waiting for them.

"I've got my connections. Ask no more, you'll just get jealous. Anyway, his name is Lucas Heller and he has been in prison twice in the last ten years, both times convicted for rape and assault with a deadly weapon. Last known address… Atlantic City! I'm sending you all the information now."

"Thanks a million, baby. Keep digging on him, would you?"

"You've got it."

When they got to the FBI office and the conference room that had been put aside for them during their stay, the team gathered around a laptop set up on the table and watched as Morgan opened the file Garcia had sent. The face that stared back at them from the screen was familiar by now, but Reid couldn't help but feel like something was off.

"That's him all right." Morgan sounded elated.

"But a convicted rapist?" Gideon sounded doubtful. "That doesn't fit the profile."

"It's enough for a warrant, anyway," JJ said. "I'll find out who to talk to about that."

"If the evidence doesn't match the profile, then which is usually right?" Elle wondered aloud, but nobody answered her, as the same question burned in all their minds.


As soon as JJ handed the warrant over to Hotchner, the team got into the car, with Hotchner driving, Morgan riding shotgun trying to read out the directions and keeping and eye on street signs, and Elle and Gideon in the back seat with Reid between them.

On the drive over to Heller's apartment building, Reid was a ball of energy. His fingers kept tapping against his leg, his foot kept moving and his head swiveled around to look out of every window at the same time.

"Calm down, Reid. Please." Elle said.

"I'm calm," Reid reassured her, making Morgan snort in amusement. He turned his head and looked at the people in the back seat,

"Yeah right, and I'm SpongeBob."

"What's a SpongeBob?" Gideon asked, putting a hand on Reid's knee to keep it from bouncing.

"Seriously, you don't know who SpongeBob SquarePants is?" The look on Elle's face was one of incredulous surprise. "Where have you been for the last couple of years?"

"Out on cases, mostly. And what self-respecting person would call themselves SquarePants?"

"Actually," Reid began, "Did your know that the sponges you can buy in the market are actually skeletons. Once the diver's have picked them out of the ocean they let them lie around until all the tissue have naturally decomposed, after that they just wash it, bleach it and sell it."

"It can't be a skeleton," Morgan objected, "A sponge is soft!"

"That's because the skeleton of the sponges is composed only of spongin tissue and contains no hard spicules and…"

"We're here." Hotchner was more than happy to be able to say those words. He wondered if any other team leaders had to put up with these odd conversation topics, but at least the impromptu lesson seemed to have relaxed Reid a little.

They had stopped about a block away from the apartment building, so that Heller wouldn't be able to see them through a window. Agent Fischer had arranged for a SWAT team from the local bureau to meet them there. They were already waiting for them and Hotchner went over to their captain, Bertrand Greene, to coordinate the operation. It was decided that Elle and Gideon would go with two of Greene's men to cover the fire escape and any other possible back doors, while Reid, Morgan and Hotchner would follow the team that went through the front door. He turned back to his team and frowned. Reid already had his gun out, although it was hanging limply at his side, pointing downwards, and he was still bouncing. Reid was much too excited about this. He would have to keep a close eye on him.

They moved briskly to the door of the apartment building. Heller lived on the third floor. When they got in, Reid suddenly shot off up the stairs, not waiting for anyone. Of course the others weren't far behind. Reid took up position next to the apartment door, anxiously waiting for the all-clear signal. Captain Greene knocked hard on the door.

"FBI, open up."

There was a sudden noise inside, something falling over, and Greene nodded to two of his men, who were carrying the battering-ram. The door splintered, and Reid all but threw himself through it.

Hotchner swallowed his irritated curses and followed the flow of law enforcement personnel into the apartment. He heard Reid shouting.

"FBI, freeze. Put the gun down."

His heart froze as he and Morgan hurried to the bedroom, where Reid stood just inside the door. A man, Heller, was on the other side of the bed, a gun trained on Reid, and Reid was positioned so that they could not come into the door. Instead they had to stand outside, watching over his shoulder.

Heller was moving towards the window.

"Drop the gun and put your hands on your head," Reid shouted, his gun in a perfect two-handed grip, following his every move.

Heller turned his back and went for the latch for the window, only to come face to face with Elle, also with her gun ready, out on the fire escape.

Reid had rushed in as soon as Heller had turned around, Hotchner and Morgan right on his heels. His gun was now aimed at the man's unprotected head.

"Drop your gun, or I will shot."

Recognizing defeat, Heller did as ordered.

"Put your hands on your head." Reid made sure that Morgan and Hotchner still had their guns trained on Heller, before holstering his and taking out his handcuffs and securing the suspect.

Hotchner called for Greene's men to transport Heller, and Morgan opened the window to let Elle and Gideon climb through.

Reid handed over the prisoner to the other agents, looking rather pleased with himself, but Hotchner was livid.

"All right," he said. "Start looking through this place. You…" he stabbed his finger at Reid, "…come with me."


Reid felt that things had gone well. As a part of him working harder he had decided to take a more active part in the field work and this opportunity had been too good to pass up. He had used all the moves he had been trained for, and there was a certain adrenaline induced thrill in storming a residence belonging to a potential serial killer. He had stood firm in the face of a threat, without either his hands or his voice trembling and he had restrained the suspect, something he rarely got the chance to do. All in all he was quite pleased with himself and he hoped that his efforts to better himself hadn't gone unnoticed by Hotchner.

That was when Hotchner ordered him out in the hallway, looking very upset.


Hotchner marched out into the hallway, his strides long and angry. Reid followed, suddenly unsure and insecure, wondering what was going on.

As soon as Reid was out in the hallway, Hotchner turned to him.

"What were you thinking? Were you even thinking? What kind of harebrained stunt were you trying to pull?" He sounded like there should be smoke coming out of his nose.

For a second, all Reid could do was stare at him, eyes wide in shock, but suddenly something fired up inside him and all other emotions he had ever felt suddenly disappeared and were replaced by red-hot anger.

"What I was doing? My job of course! I am an FBI agent, or have you forgotten?" They were both shouting now.

"An FBI agent is a team player and waits for orders before rushing into a situation like that. He could have shot you."

"He could have shot any of us, whoever came in first. And I was wearing my vest."

"That's not the point. You were not ordered to go in like that!"

"Neither was I ordered not to. Why did you even bring me to the raid if you didn't want me to go in? I am supposed to be a valid member of the team, why should my job description differ from the others? You would never yell at Morgan or Elle for taking the lead."

"Again, you are missing the point! How can someone so smart be so dense? Your job is to gather intelligence and assess information, not to go running into unknown situations."

"How dare you?" Reid's eyes were burning. "I am more than just a brain on a pair of legs to be consulted whenever you are too lazy to google something. I have taken the same courses as the rest of you, the same tests. I have passed the firearms qualification and still you don't trust me!"

"Don't trust you? Believe me, if I didn't trust you, you wouldn't be on my team."

"You may think you trust me, Hotch, but you don't. You have demonstrated that over and over again ever since I came back. What other reason do you have for not letting me out of your sight? For constantly checking up on me? I'm barely allowed to cross the street without holding your hand!"

"Are you questioning my authority? I take care of my team the best way I know how. And you have just come back from a long sick leave, caused by a very stressful incident, so excuse me for wanting to keep an eye on you."

"You said I wouldn't be evaluated. Were you lying?"

"That was before I knew how much you had changed. Running around interviewing hobos, withholding information, working 24-hour days, and now trying to take down an armed suspect by yourself. I don't know who you are anymore!"

"I wasn't by myself! I had the whole team and an entire SWAT team with me. I gain a little self-confidence and suddenly I'm a menace to society?"

"A little self-confidence? Superman didn't have this much self-confidence. And why do you think we brought the SWAT team, if not to go in first?" Hotchner's face had taken on a red tone and in between shouts he kept clenching his teeth together.

Reid threw up his hands. "There's just no pleasing you, is there?"

He turned around, merely wanting to pace off a little energy, but Hotchner seized his arm, pulling him back around.

"What do you think you are doing? You do not walk away from me!"

Reid looked at the hand around his biceps before pulling it away violently. "Don't touch me."

"You cannot speak to me like that. I am your superior."

"Oh, my superior. Like the unsub think he's his victims' superior?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it. I am your boss and as such I demand respect."

"In real life, respect goes two ways, you know."

"What do you know about real life? You're just a naïve little kid."

Reid's head snapped back and he looked as if he had been slapped. "You… You have no right…"

His face had gone stark white, and this time when he turned around, Hotchner didn't stop him. He watched him run down the stairs, before his head drooped on his shoulders. That hadn't gone the way he'd planned. He'd wanted to chastise Reid a little, discourage him from taking unnecessary risks in the future. Where had all that hostility come from? And why was Reid so angry? He should go after him, he really should. But instead he squared his shoulders and went back into the apartment.

The team had obviously heard every word. Elle's eyes looked glossy and her cheeks were red. She deliberately kept her head down, searching through a dresser drawer.

Gideon's face, as per usual, revealed nothing, but his eyes made Hotchner uncomfortable as he turned his see-through-all gaze on him.

Morgan wouldn't even look at him. He just waved an evidence bag at him and mumbled something about meeting the forensic people downstairs before almost running out of the apartment.

Hotchner felt desolate. This was not good. It wasn't unusual for there to be arguments within the team, but they were always about a case, differences of opinion. Never personal and vicious like this had been.


Reid was walking so fast that he was almost running, hot tears burning in his eyes. He had really, truly screwed up now. There was no way he would be allowed to stay on the team. What had gotten into him? Why had he said so many stupid things?

Hearing a noise behind him, he saw a city bus come up the street. There was a bus stop right in front of him, and right now he just wanted to be somewhere else. So he flagged down the bus and fumbled a little with his wallet to find change, not caring that a Kevlar vest and an FBI windbreaker wasn't exactly common attire for late-afternoon bus passengers. He was long gone by the time Morgan came out looking for him.


Several hours later Hotchner and Gideon had Heller in an interrogation room. Elle and Morgan was watching and listening from the viewing room, when Reid suddenly walked in.

"Hey… how're you doing? Where have you been?" Elle asked as soon as she saw him. They had been calling him non-stop for the last couple of hours, but his phone had been shut off.

Reid didn't like the pity masked in concern in Elle's voice.

"I'm fine," he said curtly. "How are they doing?" He nodded towards the looking glass.

"Not good. So far Heller claims never to have been in Texas, California or any other place. He says he hasn't left Atlantic City in several months. Agent Fisher is checking out his alibi. What do you think?"

Reid was staring at the man through the glass. "Something doesn't feel right…"

"What do you mean?" Elle asked.

"I don't know… He looks like the waiter… But I don't get the same feeling from him. The guy I met was more… intense… menacing… I don't know, it's just a gut feeling. Can't you call Garcia, ask her what she's found out?" he said, turning to Morgan.

"She'll call when she's finished the back ground check."

"Can't you just call her, please?"

Morgan shrugged. "Okay."

He scrolled through the contacts in his cell phone until he came to Garcia's and pressed yes.

"Candy Land switchboard. Are you in the mood for something sweet?"

"Always am."

"Morgan! You must be psychic or something. I was just about to call you. Do I have news for you!"

"Come on then, spill."

"Lucas Heller has an identical twin."

"Really?"

"Really… mom and dad split when they were three and moved to different parts of the country, taking a kid each. The mother took back her maiden name and so did the brother. His name is Lance Veld, and for the last eighteen months, there's no record of him. No credit card, no addresses, no nothing."

Morgan was frenetically writing down the information. Reid looked over his shoulder.

"Lance Veld? That's an anagram for Cleveland."

Elle immediately picked up on what he was saying. "Where the first murder took place." She went to the intercom. "Hotch, we need to talk."

A minute later they were all crowded into the viewing room. Reid and Hotchner were standing as far apart from each other as possible, neither ready to take the first step.

"Heller has an identical twin who has been invisible for the last eighteen months," Morgan said. "His name is Lance Veld, which is…"

"…an anagram for Cleveland." Gideon finished his sentence, thoughtfully.

"That's right. It's gotta be him." Morgan was adamant.

Hotchner looked back onto the interrogation room. "So we change tactics."


The further interrogation of Heller reveled nothing. He claimed he hadn't seen his brother since before he went to prison. That he was supposed to be in Atlantic City was news to him. Frustrated Hotchner let him go, but ordered surveillance on him, in case his brother made contact.

But even though their unsub now had an identity, they were back to their original method; checking the hotels' personnel and guest lists.

Reid and Hotchner spent the next two days, mostly pretending to ignore each other and waiting. Reid waited for the other shoe to drop, for the consequences that were sure to follow after having blown up at his boss like that. He had said some really bad things, but bad things had been said to him too. Things he didn't think he deserved. Some of the criticisms may have been well-justified, but he strongly felt that there were better ways to communicate them. He was so confused right now. How could this not result in him being fired? Maybe Hotchner was just waiting for the case to be over, and then… The not knowing was slowly killing him and he desperately tried to drown his thoughts in work.

Hotchner was waiting for Reid to apologize, and for himself to find the courage to apologize to him. He just couldn't bring himself to take the first step. He had his authority to think of, after all. And there was also the fact that he was right… well, partially right, anyway. He could admit to that. Whereas Reid had been all wrong. Hadn't he? But deep down, he knew he was just making excuses. And he was still angry with Reid, though he wasn't sure why anymore.

But they still worked together. Hotchner still insisted that Reid would be partnered up with him or be on his team, every time he left the FBI office. The team could do nothing, but stand to the side and watch as their relationship crumbled, and it put them all on edge.


Elle and Morgan watched as Reid and Hotchner exited the elevator in the FBI building after another day of fruitless searching. They immediately separated, walking in opposite directions, without so much as a glance at the other.

Elle sighed. "How long do you think this is going to go on?"

"Until one of them shoots the other," Morgan said dryly.

"Morgan!"

"Relax, it was just a joke."

"Well, it's not funny."

Little did they know that before long, Morgan's joke would become grim reality.


TBC