Me again. Very soon one of our 'teams' will be taking a trip...stay tuned!

Usual disclaimers apply.


The tiny vegetable was staring JJ in the face. At least, she thought so.

"Guys, I don't think I can…" she said, her nose scrunched up to within an inch of its life.

"Oh, come on," Emily said, pouring a very tall glass of milk and setting it next her friend. "Compared to what I have to do next, this is a piece of cake."

The three were back at Josh's house, where the bright green habanera pepper was performing its 'stare of death.' Josh pulled up a high-backed chair and smiled.

"So much for 'junk food'," he said, smiling. "I do beleeve that that weel, eh, 'take your eensides out?'"

"My system's not right, what with having Henry and all…"

"Come on," Emily nudged. "One bite, and that'll be the deciding factor. Either you'll be able to pack it away and mark it off your list, or you won't."

"Eef you do not theenk you can do thees, Miss Jareau, I would not make yourself seek," Josh advised. "I once knew a man, from before…"

Now even Emily was interested. "What'd he do?"

"He was bet one hundred rubles he could not eat a pound of pickled herring, followed by a vodka chasair."

"And…?"

"Half a pound, he, eh, 'tossed cookies'?"

"Wow."

"Thees was back some thirty, thirty-five years," Josh added. "Back then, that was a lot of money—especially in Soviet country…"

JJ screwed up her courage. "Here goes," she said, picking up the small, oily pepper. She took a bite, chewed, then immediately spat it out and ran to the sink.

"No, JJ, here—drink this," Emily said, knocking the water the woman had poured out of her hand. JJ was given the glass of milk, which she downed in one gulp.

"What was wrong with the water?"

"At the risk of sounding Reid-like, the water would have spread the oil that was making your mouth burn. The milk coats it, effectually acting as a smothering agent, and you feel better."

JJ looked at Josh, almost as if looking for confirmation.

"Ees true," the older man said. "Many a Spaniard has tried thees."

"Thanks, guys," JJ said. "So much for finishing my list."

"Well, I'm thinking there's going to be a few gaps in other people's lists too," Emily smiled. "I mean, how much Mackinac Island Fudge ice cream gets sold in this area…?"

----

"Yeah, Mackinac Island Fudge," a hurried voice said. "No, not fudge ripple…look, it's a real ice cream…has little bits of fudge in…no?"

Reid and Hotch looked over at Oliver, who had spent the last two hours on the phone with nearly every grocery store and confectioner in Washington, D.C. The investigator was growing more frustrated with each call that he made, and finally he hung up his cell phone and sighed.

"No luck?" Reid asked.

"None. It's like they don't sell it anywhere but Michigan," Oliver replied. "I mean, half of them thought I wanted fudge ripple, then the other half thought I wanted bear claw or something."

"Is it even real ice cream?" Hotch asked, looking wary.

"Obviously you've never been to Michigan, huh?"

"No." Reid shook his head as well.

"Hmmm….hey, Hotch, how long to you get to keep your son for?"

"Jack?"

"Yeah."

"Well, tomorrow's Sunday," Hotch reasoned. "Considering we're getting an extra couple of days off this holiday due to other teams needing to pick up their slack, I can keep him for three days, if Haley's not going to give me trouble. Why?"

"Cause I've got an idea…"

----

"Oho," Charlene giggled. "I think I know what he plans to do."

"Grow wings and fly?" Reginald asked. "I mean, how does he plan to…"

"Patience. This is one thing I'd like to see him try."

"Isn't that not following the rules?" Gina wondered. "Maybe I should…"

"Nah, honey, let it fly," the matronly Southern angel said brightly. "Something tells me Oliver's already found the loophole to allow it."

----

"Aaaagh!" Morgan shouted, slamming his fist against the horn of the SUV. "This is impossible!"

"Morgan, calm down. It's not impossible."

"Not impossible? We've been trapped here for three hours!"

Chase slumped back into her seat. "The answer's right in front of you, if you'd only look…"

"I can handle drivin' a car, thanks."

"Never said you couldn't. However, it's getting late, I'm starving, and I'm sure if we don't eat soon or get out of this cold they'll find us as starved, half-frozen mummies, killed by someone's own stubbornness." Chase's gaze fixed pointedly at the agent behind the wheel.

"Whoever gave this as a suggestion, I'd like to wring their neck…"

Chase smiled. She knew who was making Morgan's life miserable right about now, and she wasn't telling. On the other hand, a certain young profiler would be thrilled to hear that the self-proclaimed 'master of directions' couldn't make his way out of the maze he was stuck in.

"Okay. Morgan?"

"What?!"

Chase pointed a finger at a little green sign. "What's that say?"

"To Highway 96."

"And where did we come in at?"

Morgan's face fell. "Highway 96."

"So, logically…"

"Zip it, right now," Morgan grumbled. "Now I can't chalk this off my list…"

"Well, you did ask that woman on the street for help…"

"And six other people, none of whom spoke English. I think that last one was…what? Romanian?"

"Could be. But you asked, and that's what counts. Call this a success."

"Between me and you?"

"Oh, Kyle saw me pointing out the signs. Who do you think tipped me off to them when we were working that case?"

Morgan suddenly had a newfound respect for his passenger in the backseat.

----

"I am so mortified," Connie wailed. "Lost?! I save him from falling off trains and being shot and from crazed psychopaths, but you can't save him from getting lost?!"

"That's it," Anya said. "Let's go. We're going to Stephen, right now." The smaller angel grabbed Connie by her wings and started dragging her to the large office.

"Connie, Anya," the head angel said warmly. "How are things going?"

"Oh, the game's great, Stephen," Anya said sincerely. "I'm learning how to be a better angel through it. Could we do this again at Easter?"

"Perhaps. Now, I know you've come for a reason…"

"It's Connie. She keeps whining over how her usual charge is faring, and accusing me of not doing my job. She's obsessed, I tell you!"

"Connie," Stephen said, staring down hard at the young angel. "What did I tell you would happen if you didn't ease up?"

"No, please, don't reassign me," Connie stammered. "I'm trying, really, I am…I don't want to be sent down like Vladimir…"

Stephen was taken slightly aback in surprise. "That's a name I haven't heard of in a long time…"

"I thought the story would snap her out of it."

"It seems to be having an effect."

"I hope so." Anya shook her red hair out of her eyes.

"Connie, are you going to cause more problems?"

The angel shook her head, too overcome to speak.

"Okay then. Go back out and have fun," Stephen said. As the two angels walked out, he began to think on Anya's cleverness. While there had certainly been a 'fallen angel' called Vladimir, he had never thought to use the poor soul as an example to other angels who might follow in that unfortunate fellow's footsteps…