"You're serious?" Morgan said, startled. "The NSA wants our help? I thought that agency liked to pretend not to exist."

"We're leaving in fifteen," Hotch replied. "Garcia is coming with us."

Reid was the first one out of the conference room, going to his desk and slipping some files into his messenger bag. No one thought anything about it.

When they arrived, they were met by the Director himself. All shook hands, except for Reid. That wasn't so strange.. what was strange was that the Director didn't need introductions. "And Dr. Reid, of course. We've met."

Reid smiled slightly and tapped on his messenger bag. The Director appeared to know what that meant, though.

"You've finished? Thank god. I didn't think we'd ever solve that one."

Reid snorted. "I'm not going to say it was easy. Code was based on the Periodic Table."

The Director frowned. "We did have a chemist look it over."

"He used a different algorithm for every classification. Metal, noble gas, halogens.. Everything. It took me fourteen hours to crack it."

"Reid?" Hotch frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Reid shrugged. "It's not the first time I'm here."

"Dr. Reid!" a man in his late thirties said. "I didn't know you were coming."

Reid smiled. "Tim," he greeted. "I'm here as FBI, now. These are my teammates – SAC Hotchner, SSA Rossi, SSA Prentiss, SSA Morgan, SSA Jareau and TA Garcia. Everyone, this is Tim Franks. He usually liaises between the computers and me."

Tim snorted. "One way of putting it. Nice to meet you. Dr. Reid talks about you a lot. Although I thought you were dead," he said to Prentiss.

"She wasn't," Reid grumped.

The Director interrupted. "Agent Franks, sit down and we'll start the briefing." Tim did so. "Over the past month or so, an unknown body has been making a hole in our secure network. Although we can counter them, we want to identify this body. CIA is working the foreign angle, we're working domestic. I'd like for Miss Garcia to work with our task force on the hole, for Dr. Reid and Agent Franks to work on cryptology, and the rest of you to identify possible moles in our organization. With your permission, of course, Agent Hotchner."

"Of course," Hotch said. "Where can we set up?"

"Dr. Reid and Agent Franks can use their usual workspace on the eight floor, although they are free to use space on the second. Miss Garcia will be in the workspace of the task force, on the second floor. The rest of you have a conference room on the second floor. Dr. Reid, do you have your files for me?"

"I have," Reid said immediately and handed the Director three plain, brown folders.

The Director nodded. "Thank you. Can you show the other BAU members to conference room 6B?" He gestured to Tim and Reid.

"We will," Tim promised.

"Come on, then," Reid said after the Director had left.

Hotch blinked. "Reid, do you come here often?"

Reid shrugged. "Once every one or two weeks, I suppose? Why?"

"You have a workspace," Prentiss said dryly.

"My office, yes. But I'll set up at second, otherwise it'll be a lot of running around. Six exists of two adjoining conference rooms and an office. I'll set up in the latter." Reid sighed. "I know you all have a lot of questions, but can that wait until this case is finished?"

Hotch frowned. "I don't like it, but alright."

Reid nodded as they arrived at the elevator. "If you need something and you don't have clearance, tell Tim.. he'll arrange something."

Soon, they arrived at the second floor, where Reid first led them to the task force that dealt with the hole in the network. "Garcia, if you see a useless line of code, send it to Tim. It may be a coded message."

"Will do, my sweets," Garcia said.

Conference room 6B was large. Reid pointed to a door. "Tim and I will be in there." They then disappeared through the door.

"What is Pretty Boy up to?" Morgan raised his eyebrows.

"No idea," Prentiss said.

"Focus on the case, please," Hotch interrupted.

They started familiarizing them with the case files.

After thirty minutes or so, Reid flew into the conference room. "I'm pretty sure this is from an organization led by someone who calls himself Thor. We don't know a lot about him, though." Reid frowned.

Tim spoke from behind Reid. "You want me to run down to the cyberlab?"

"Please," Reid nodded.

Tim disappeared through the door.

"How are you coming along?" Reid asked.

"We were just about to go and interview some people of the list of possible moles we were handed," Hotch said. "Can you tell us about them?"

"Depends on who they are," Reid shrugged. "Who's the first?"

"Lila Simpson," Hotch read.

Reid frowned. "I don't get along with her. To be honest, I don't see what she's doing with the NSA. She wants recognition and that's not something you get here. She doesn't care what the recognition is for, either – whether it's for something she actually did or something she wasn't a part of."

Hotch nodded. "Samuel Dente?"

This way, they worked down the whole list, although Reid didn't know all of them. Reid gave them a warning as they finished. "Take care not to accuse or to insult anyone. Just make friends, ask them what they think. Treat them all as though they are Philip Dowd's. Just don't kick your partner." Reid let a smile show. "And don't flirt as a pre-emptive measure."

Hotch nodded. "Alright."

Just then, Tim went inside. He sighed. "Cyberlab doesn't know anything. We have someone on all notable agencies asking about Thor."

Reid nodded. "Good. Let me know if they have something." He thought for a moment. "I'm running to Garcia for a moment."

"I'll go with you," Morgan offered.

Reid frowned. "I don't think they'll allow you entry. It's likely they are airtight, and you're basically a civilian."

"I'm a Federal Agent," Morgan protested.

"You don't work here," Reid explained. "You don't have clearance."

Reid turned and left, not explaining further.

Morgan raised his eyebrows. "What was that about?"

"He's right," Tim said. "You wouldn't get inside. Reid had to do a lot of talking to get your TA inside. Even now, she's not allowed to do anything except for analyzing and advising."

"Let's go and interview the people on our list," Hotch said. "Morgan and Prentiss, you take the first four. Rossi and I will take the last three."

After ninety minutes, all returned. Tim and Reid were in the other conference room.

"Reid asked me not to disturb him," Tim said when Hotch entered the conference room. "He's in the office. Go in only if it can't wait."

Hotch raised his eyebrows. "You're sure?"

Tim nodded. "He needs time for uninterrupted thinking, I suppose. You should have seen him when he was working on this one difficult code. He worked for thirty hours straight, then passed out from a lack of food and water. Of course, he was still recovering from anthrax by then, so he wasn't hundred per cent."

Before Hotch could answer, Reid came out of the office carrying a file. "I think I've got something. Can you fax this through the cyberlab and to the Director? And to server management. I'll stop by there as soon as I'm finished, but I know which servers are going to be attacked next." He handed Tim the files, then blinked when he saw Hotch "Oh. Hi, Hotch. Didn't see you there."

Hotch snorted. "That was clear. Do you have something?"

"Not for the profile, how about you?"

"Not a lot," Hotch said. "I'm not even sure there is a mole."

"There is one. Focus on those with access to server management. I can take you there? I have to go there anyway."

"I can get in there?" Hotch asked, tilting his head slightly. "I thought you said everything was locked down tight."

Reid frowned. "Not server management. Tim, can you increase security there? No one goes in without two guards, everyone signs in, and everyone states their purpose. Security should make sure the purpose is carried out, nothing else. And no one makes notes of the lay-out of the room."

"Got it," Tim said, taking his phone.

"Let's go, then," Hotch said.

Server management was on the third floor. "Most of Cyberlab is on the second and third floors," Reid commented. "From down to up, it's the gym, archives, library reception, recovering, sorting, decoding, analyzing, directing."

"And what are you?" Hotch asked, curious.

"Eight floor," Reid said. "I think just about everything else I can tell you would be classified."

"And Tim Franks?" Hotch asked.

"He's Garcia and JJ's old role combined," Reid said. "Only he's that to me, not to a unit. Oh, here is server management."

"Identification?" a guard said – one of four.

Reid held out a badge. "Dr. Reid, eight floor. Escorting SSA Hotchner, FBI, consulting."

Hotch held out his credentials. The guard nodded. "Purpose?"

"I need to see the lay-out of the room to apply a new algorithm. I asked Agent Hotchner to accompany me so he can act on any information I may learn."

The guard nodded and allowed them entry. Two of the guards followed with them.

Reid flew through the room, tapping servers now and then. Hotch looked on, bemused. The guards looked fascinated.

"I have what I need," Reid said to the guards.

In the elevator, Reid spoke again. "Garcia showed me how they had hacked the server. There were a few notable things in the code, which I decrypted. They were basically an algorithm to which server would be hacked next."

Hotch nodded. "Why did you tell the guards you're from the eight floor?"

Reid tilted his head. "The building is, in a way, a food chain. See it like this – the rookie to seasoned ratio on the first floor is around two to one. On the eight floor, there are no real rookies. So saying I'm on eight floor is similar to acting like you belong there. Only this works better."

Hotch raised his eyebrows. "There are nine floors. You're on eight."

Reid looked embarrassed. "Uh, there's a rooftop? So you could also say there are ten."

They exited the elevator. "What's Cyberlab?"

"All of second and a part of third," Reid said. "I'm going to check in with Garcia, anything you need to ask her?"

"Her insights," Hotch said. They stopped before the conference room.

"Come with me, then," Reid said. "I'll bluff you through."

"Why wouldn't you let Morgan come?" Hotch asked curiously.

Reid shrugged. "He wanted to say 'hi'. You want to do something useful. And Garcia'll have to fight to have her advice listened to. If Morgan shows up and calls her baby girl, it won't help."

They met two guards by the door of the room Garcia was in. "Identification?"

"Dr. Reid, eight floor. Escorting SAC Hotchner, FBI, consulting. One of his subordinates, TA Garcia, is inside."

Both presented their credentials. Hotch noted that Reid didn't present his FBI credentials – rather those of the NSA.

"I have narrowed it down to three servers which will be attacked next," he said to the 'commander' of the task force. "My advice is to increase watch and possibly security, but only if doing so does not leave a window. I don't want anyone to work on these things alone, everyone will have their code checked by a colleague. We know there is a mole. Don't give him a chance."

"I understand," the man said solemnly. "Who is your companion?"

"SAC Hotchner, Unit Chief of TA Garcia, FBI, consulting," Reid introduced.

Just then Garcia appeared. "Who calls me?" Garcia said. "Reid! Bossman!"

"Garcia, do you have any insights?" Hotch said, immediately going to business.

"This guy is creepy good, but he's also a showpony and thinks he's just a little bit better than he really is," Garcia said softly, so the others couldn't overhear. "Everything he does is watertight, but not airtight."

Back in the conference room, Reid disappeared into the office again while the others kept adding to the profile. When Reid re-appeared, it was finished.

"Who should we present this to?" Hotch asked.

"I'll ask the assistant director," Reid said.

In the end, the assistant director recognized the profile when he saw it and they caught the mole when he was trying to weaken the security around one server. The mole got off with a deal: life in a medium security prison in return for information resulting in the capture of Thor.

The case was a success. Local agents arrested Thor, whose real name was James Bennett.

Morgan insisted on celebrating in Reid's office. Reid also invited Tim. When they arrived at the eight floor, they were surprised. Reid was greeted and congratulated by everyone they saw.

Before they got to Reid's office, they first had to go through an outer office, although Reid had another explanation. "This is Tim's office," Reid said. "Connected offices seemed useful, and given that everything usually goes through Tim anyway, this just made sense."

Reid's office was roomy, spacy, and large. Well, they could at least sit comfortably. Enough space, enough chairs.

"So, how do you get to work for the NSA?" Morgan asked.

Reid shrugged. "You do realize I'm one of the best educated men in the country? I get a lot of job offers. It started as a consult and became more."

"What's your position?" Prentiss asked Tim.

Tim looked thoughtful and didn't reply for a while. Then: "I enable Dr. Reid to do his job."

"What Tim does is a combination of Garcia's job and what used to be your job," Reid supplied. "He's the one who decides priority, emergencies, and what gets send back."

"Why didn't you tell us? After that mess with the Pentagon, and then with Doyle.." Hotch said.

Reid smiled mischievously. "My contract with the FBI has a special clause," he said. "Meaning they can't trade me within government agencies without my consent."

"How did you get that into it?" JJ said, eyes wide.

Reid shrugged. "Wide brown doe eyes. I pretended the possibility scared me. I was twenty-one – it wasn't that hard."

Rossi was, apparently, the only one who was relatively unsurprised. Hotch directed him a questioning glance.

"C'mon, it wasn't that hard. You all forget he's not twenty-one anymore." Rossi said. "But what is your job, exactly?"

Reid smirked. "Classified," he deadpanned.

"Reid –" Morgan started.

Tim snorted. "You think he's lying?"

"All NSA matters are classified," Prentiss said.

"What's the story behind you anyway?" Tim asked curiously. "And I hope there is one, because otherwise I'm going to punch someone. Reid was in a real mess."

"We gave her a new identity," JJ explained. "Until things were safe again."

Tim gave her a strange look. "You didn't. I checked. Reid checked."

JJ averted her eyes.

"What do you mean?" Morgan frowned.

No one spoke for two minutes or so. Then Reid sighed. "If someone is in danger, the US Marshals protect or relocate them. What our team members did was smuggling her out of the country, telling us she's dead, telling us she's alive and then having the gall to tell us the Marshals did it. Do you see now why I was angry? It's one thing to lie to protect a friend, but then to lie for no reason at all? Then apparently, they also played online scrabble." Reid glared at JJ, hard. "I tracked down your accounts, by the way. CheetoBreath. It wasn't all that difficult, given that you had used your regular e-mail address to sign up. Then, I asked someone to hack into the website." Reid stood and rummaged in a drawer. "It took him eight minutes. These are all your conversations you had while she was supposedly dead. Just to remind you, it's not exactly a state secret that Garcia calls Morgan 'Chocolate Adonis', so that's not a good alias to use when talking about him."

JJ flinched. Morgan looked angry. "Is it true what she's saying?"

"Yes, but –" JJ started.

"Forget it," Morgan said angrily.

Meanwhile, Rossi turned to Hotch. "I didn't take you to be so stupid."

"How did you find out?" Hotch asked Reid.

Reid shrugged. "Prentiss had resigned, remember? So it didn't really make sense that you knew about her location. Nor did it for JJ, because she might be your contact with the DOD, but not with the Marshals. Still, that one made a little more sense." Reid snorted. "You know Tim and I actually used to laugh about it. In those grief sessions, you used to tell me I didn't have to hide, I should say what I want to say, blah blah blah. Then Prentiss is alive after all and I can't be angry. I behaved extremely professional in my anger, yet I get reprimanded when someone brings personal problems to work." Reid sighed. "I'm going to the roof. Be back in twenty."

Rossi stared at Hotch incredulously. "If that's all true, you have fucked up big. How are you gonna fix it?"

Hotch stared after Reid. "Summed up like that, I feel like I should hand in my resignation."

"If I may give you a piece of advice – wait ten minutes and go after him," Tim supplied. "When Reid says 'I'm upset, I'm going to that direction, and I'll be back in x minutes' it's actually an invitation to join him once half that time has passed. And he hasn't lost trust in you completely." He spoke solely to Hotch.

"He has in us?" Prentiss was clearly referring to herself and JJ.

"In you, not initially. At least, he initially attributed it to Stockholm Syndrome. But when you basically told him the ulcer you got in Paris was his fault.. well, he lost that, too."

"Stockholm syndrome?" Garcia asked. Her lower lip was nearly trembling at all she'd just heard.

"She'd been reliable on Jareau only for so long it became second nature to support her lies," Tim shrugged. "Hey, don't glare at me. Don't shoot the messenger. And don't rip the message if it's truth."

"Oh what a tangled web we weave, when we first practice to deceive," Reid said from the doorway. "Sir Walter Scott."

"You're back early," Tim said mildly.

Reid shrugged and sat down. "It's cold on top. Hotch, do you have any idea what I should do with the paperwork concerning this case?"

"How so?" Hotch shook himself from his thoughts.

"Technically I did this case as an FBI agent, but half the stuff I did is classified. I can hand my reports to the Director, but I doubt he'd appreciate that."

Hotch thought for a moment. "Don't add the classified things."

"Okay," Reid agreed. "I'll add a note anyway, that those who want to read the whole thing should get clearance from NSA.