Author's Note: Whether you recognize it or not, it's not mine.

Author's Note 2: Old firehorses, for you young whippersnappers – long ago (19th/20th centuries), fire "engines" were horse-drawn, largely because the combustion engine didn't exist yet. Horses are not stupid, and quickly associated the bells in the firehouse with being harnessed up and driven through the streets. Allegedly, at least some horses kept around in the firehouse after retirement would get excited when the bells sounded. True? Dunno, even I wasn't around back then! Anyway, it's sort of "Darmok and Jalad" code for "can't leave it behind when you leave" behavior. Right, that's enough of crossing the streams for one day…

Author's Note 3: I just went back to Chapter 1 to see what age details I'd put into the profile they deliver at the beginning, and realized there's a major inconsistency – in Chapter 1, the killings go back two years. In more recent chapters, they only go back a couple months. Sorry?

Previously, in "Criminal Minds: The Prodigal":

"I can find out, let me call my office and Mariposa County." Phillips got up, stretched, and went out to the porch with his cell phone, while Aaron sat back from the table and looked at Gideon.

"So, is the retired old firehorse hearing the bells again?

"All the SUVs took diesel fuel, I had my girl do some more checking and they were all top of the line with AC, biggest engine available, so you gotta figure pretty low mileage. Think it means anything?" Phillips sat back down at the table, tucking his cell phone into his breast pocket, and leaned over the map in front of them.

"It could be environmental justice, yes. The victims have all been well-off, so they're more likely to have good vehicles anyway, but if all the vehicles fit into the same set of descriptors, that sounds like another part of the picture. Let's assume it's environmental justice, but at the same time let's not get target fixation. How many activists do you have out here?"

"Not all that many, really. Most people around here just sort of live and let live, you know? I mean, there's always some grumbling about the tourists, especially when the traffic jams hit in the summer, but that's about it."

Gideon suddenly bent over the map, fingers tracing the spread of kill sites. "I hope I'm wrong, but I think…. I think I know who this is."

"What!?" "Who?"

"Think about it." He looked at Phillips, ticking off points on his fingers. "Environmental justice – that spells idealism. Apparently doesn't like the internal combustion engine. All the kills are in a fairly tight grouping, suggesting he's either located right in this area or there's something important to him. We think it was triggered by the Gold Creek fire, where we had water bombers coming and going for days and smoke for weeks. Intelligent, happy to stay to himself, physically fit. Who does it suggest to you?"

Phillips shook his head slowly. "No. No, it can't be. God, it'll kill his family."

"But you see why I think it's him?"

Aaron had finally had enough. "Would one of you like to clue me in here?"

"Sorry, Hotch. There's a kid out here – well, he's not a kid, not really, a young man. He served in the Gulf, doesn't talk about it much that I know of. Anyway, if he needs to get anywhere, he rides there. The rest of his family drive, but he goes everywhere – "

"On horseback. That would limit the kill zone, yes. And if he served in the Gulf at the right time, between the water bombers and the smoke he could have really been triggered." He looked at Phillips. "Is this kid close? Can we go talk to him now?"

"Yeah, he lives up in one of the hollows off Worman Road. Your car or mine?"

"Yours would be better. You're a known quantity, I'll let you take the lead and I'll just observed. Jason, will you be here when I come back for the car?" Aaron looked at his old colleague directly, and they both knew there was more to the question than just the words.

"Yes."

A few minutes later they were gone, and Gideon was left with empty coffee cups, an empty table that had just been full of maps and note pads, and an echoing room. He stood there for a moment, gazing at nothing, then shook himself out of the sudden… loneliness? Really?

"Right, time to get to work. What to do today?" Finally he decided that it was time to check the shutters on the cabins, and was halfway up the hill before doubling back to leave leave a hand-drawn map tucked under the windshield of Aaron's bureau SUV.

Author's Note 4: Sorry, all. Yadda yadda yadda, eh? I'm writing this in the short time between getting up, and making my 30-second commute to my home office. More soon, honest, this is just sort of a spacer. This isn't, after all, a story about a case. The case was just there to sucker Hotchner out so he could run into Gideon by chance.