Emily and Gideon approached the hostel, each crafting their own approach in their head. They didn't want to freak out any of the guests, all probably foreigners in a new place when terrorism wasn't all that uncommon. Neither wanted to go in guns blazing and scaring anyone who heard what they were asking about.

"Let me take the lead," she told him, opening the door and walking in before he could put in his two cents.

She led the way to the front desk all the while taking in as many details about the place as she could. Gideon did the same. "Excusez-moi, Michel," she said, reading the man's nametag.

"Oui comment puis-je vous aider?"

"Parlez-vous anglais?"

"Yes, I speak English," he said with his accent still heavy. "Are you checking in?" He eyed them warily. They got older couples on occasion, but it was always best to be cautious.

"No," Gideon interrupted, no longer comfortable taking a backseat in this conversation.

"No? So how may I help you? Is one of our guests expecting you?"

Ignoring the man's question, Gideon asked, "How long have you worked here?"

"The past few years. Why?"

"Were you working two weeks ago?"

Michel was taken aback by Gideon's gruffness, but still answered. "Oui. Probably. I work almost everyday for a few hours."

"Good. Then you can answer a few questions for me."

"Regarding what? I may not give specifics about our guests."

"You better answer," Gideon gruffed.

"I'm sorry," Emily butted in, shooting the older man a warning look. "He's having a rough few days. See, his nephew, Noah is missing. He was staying here with some friends and now we can't seem to find him. We're not here to cause any trouble; we just want to ask a few questions. Would that be okay?"

Eyes still slightly narrowed, the man began to warm to Emily. "I can try."

"Great," she beamed at him and he relaxed further. "Do you keep any records of comings and goings like when the guests leave their rooms or where they go?"

"No." Emily didn't think so. It was a hostel, not a hotel. Keycards weren't exactly the norm.

"Okay. Would you happen to remember Noah Eisenberg? I can show you his picture." Emily motioned for Gideon to show him a picture from his phone.

Michel studied the photo for a long time before handing the phone back. "I do remember him. I last saw him two weeks ago. He left in the morning and never came back. When we realized he wasn't returning, we charged his credit card for the days he was here."

That explains the last charges on his bill, Emily thought as Gideon asked in a friendlier tone, "Did he happen to say where he was going?"

He felt bad for the American. "I'm afraid not, Monsieur. He just gave a friendly nod on his way out. That was the last time I saw him."

"Did he seem upset or in a hurry?" Gideon pressed, desperate for any news about his nephew.

"Actually the opposite. He was happy and excited."

Definitely sounds like he wasn't running from something so maybe he left behind a clue. "Did Noah leave any personal items behind that we might be able to look at?"

There was a shake of the head. "No. We recommend taking all possessions when you leave. We provide lockers to secure valuables, but theft still occurs. It's best to take everything with you."

So much for that line of investigation. Emily absently drummed her fingers on the counter. "He was assumed to be traveling with three other men: Rolf van Grimmelshausen, a Dieter and a Sven. I'm sorry. I don't know their last names."

"You might be referring to Dieter Schmeling and Sven Ahlstrom. I have not see Rolf van Grimmelshausen for several weeks."

Emily and Gideon shared knowing looks. Rolf also seems to be missing around the same time. Perhaps the two were hiding out together…or, Emily hated to think, he was the body recovered from the Seine. A chat with the two remaining men might clear that up.

"They wouldn't still happen to be here?" she asked hopefully.

"Oui," Michel said with a nod. "They are in the common room."

She glanced over his shoulder hoping to catch a glimpse of them. "Could we talk to them?"

Michel shrugged. The common room, like a restaurant, was open to the public so he legally couldn't bar them from entering. He pointed the two men out and returned to his duties. It took all of their restraint not to rush over. This was their first tangible lead and they didn't want to blow it by spooking them.

Just before reaching the two men watching them with a mixture of curiosity and nervousness, Emily took Gideon by the arm and said firmly, "I've got this, Gideon. You're too emotionally involved. Cool off."

Gideon huffed in frustration, but nodded his assent. Alone, Emily approached the table. "Entschuldigung. Sprichst du Englisch?" She addressed the dark haired one she assumed to be the German.

Dieter shook his head. "Nein. English not good." Then he pointed to his friend. "Sven only Swedish."

Wonderful, she thought. This is going to be fun. She was going to have to conduct the entire conversation in German while Dieter translated it into Swedish for Sven. And German wasn't one of her stronger languages, but it was better than her Russian. If it weren't for her regular chats with Dave's housekeeper over the last couple of months, her German would be much worse. Emily decided not to include Gideon because it would make it more complicated with everyone translating that something important could literally get lost in the translation. He won't like it, but she'll fill him in when she's done.

Emily gestured at the empty chair. "Kann ich hier sitzen?" Both men nodded. "Danke," she said, pulling it out and sitting down. Folding her hands on the table, she leaned forward with a friendly smile and started the interview.

Gideon resisted the urge to pace and to do it in Emily's line of sight so she could see how perturbed he was. He didn't appreciate being kept out of the loop. Even though he couldn't speak a word of German, he should be sitting at the table with her, feeding her questions he needed immediate answers to. And if he didn't like what he heard, he would make her probe deeper. It wasn't like he doubted her skills. Emily was a seasoned interviewer, but he had many more years of experience tucked under his belt. It was then she produced a small notebook and started jotting down notes in her undecipherable handwriting while the dark haired man gestured animatedly. Good, she's learning something, he thought and wished she would hurry up and fill him in on what he had been shut out of.

After getting over the initial shock of not being invited to the party, it dawned on him that she was conversing in German, causing his eyebrows to disappear into his hairline. He was unaware that she was fluent in that language as well and made sure to ask her when she had wrapped up the interview and returned to the sidewalk in front of the hostel with him.

"I didn't know you also spoke German, Prentiss. How many other languages do you know that you haven't bothered to mention?" he accused, not even trying to keep his annoyance with her out of his voice.

Emily, for her part, didn't rise to the bait. She knew he was pissed off because she hadn't let him sit in on the interview and he had every right to feel that way. But like she had told him earlier; he was too emotionally involved and would intimidate Noah's friends to get the answers he wanted.

"I do, but I don't get many chances to use it like my other languages. Its not one of my best, but it's still better than my Russian. I suck at that one." Before he could say anything in response, she touched him on the arm. "Look, Gideon, I'm sorry I didn't include you but I hope you understand it just would have made things more difficult."

"Excuse me," he scoffed.

"You can't deny it Gideon. Not only are you emotionally charged and way too invested in the answers, but it was already language soup. If we had to add translating into English to the mix, we would have just wasted time. I asked everything we needed to ask and now that it's over, I can fill you in. I know you hate not being in control, but that's something you need to work on. I have the language skills. Sometimes, I have to make the calls and that means leaving you out."

Gideon moaned and groaned for a few minutes longer before asking, "What did you find out?"

Emily consulted her notebook. "Quite a lot. Apparently two months ago they bumped into each other in Italy and hit it off even with the language barrier. Noah knew a little German from high school, Rolf spoke fluent English and Dieter knows Swedish because his mother is from Stockholm. Sven…"

"Could we skip over the family history crap and get to the important stuff?" he huffed in annoyance.

She glared at him. "If you want to know what I've learned, then shut up. Otherwise I'm done here," she warned, threatening to flip the notebook shut and walk away.

Gideon's mouth clamped shut though his lips remained pressed in a thin, disapproving line.

"Thought so," Emily said with a hint of smugness and continued on with her recital. "They eventually made their way here to Paris. Then suddenly about three weeks before he disappeared, Noah started going off on his own."

"Did they know why?" he spoke up, figuring it was a legitimate question.

Emily shook her head. "No, he never said. He would leave early in the morning and come back late at night. They just assumed he was off sketching the architecture since they knew he liked doing that."

"That's very true," he conceded, thinking of the sketchbook found in the backpack filled with drawings. "But it's also a bit suspicious. It sounds like he could be involved in something shady."

"Agreed."

"Anything stand out about the day Noah disappeared?"

"Only that Rolf went with him. This is where things get interesting. Dieter and Sven haven't seen him since. They showed me a picture of him and he bears a remarkable resemblance to Noah. They are of similar build and height, have the same complexion and light brown hair. I think the body in the morgue is Rolf."

"Are you implying that Noah—" Gideon bristled with indignation.

"I'm not implying anything, Gideon," Emily said calmly. "I'm just saying that they looked alike so the UnSub might have mistaken Rolf for Noah and killed him."

"And Noah could have witnessed the murder and ran."

"A strong possibility. That would explain why Rolf hasn't called you back."

Gideon gestured to the hostel. "Why didn't those two speak up sooner about their missing friends?"

"Because they didn't think they were missing," Emily explained. "Dieter and Sven were thinking about going to London, but Rolf and Noah didn't want to go yet. When they didn't come back, the two assumed they went somewhere else so they took the Chunnel over to London. They returned a few days ago, expecting to find Rolf and Noah here."

"And they didn't." Gideon blew out a breath of frustration. "It was good to hear all that, but we still don't know where Noah went after he left here."

"True," she agreed with a nod. "But we know a lot more than we did an hour ago. We're making progress, Gideon."

He knew she was right, but it sure didn't feel like it. "So what do we do now, Prentiss?"

Emily looked up and down the street, halfheartedly looking for their tails and saw no sign of them. Sebastien's erratic driving had done its job as she thought it would. "We canvass the area. Someone else had to see him."

Emily arrived at the designated spot in front of the hostel with a few minutes to spare. She wasn't surprised that Gideon wasn't already there, figuring his unfamiliarity with the area and the language barrier would slow him down some. But knowing him, he hadn't let it get in his way and kept soldiering on. Just as she was looking around for a place to rest her tired feet, her cell phone rang. Emily fished it out of her pocket and almost didn't check the screen, assuming it was Gideon calling that he was lost, but, in the end, she was glad she did. It was none other than the elusive Dr. Spencer Reid. She had tried several times to find out how his meeting with Gideon went before she left, but he had proven to be a difficult agent to pin down.

"Hey, Handsome. How are you?" she answered with a smile.

"Emily, it's Reid."

"I know. That's why I called you handsome."

He ignored her levity and got right to the point. "Good. I need you to translate your notes on the Franklin case. Your handwriting is atrocious! How can we help people if we can't even read the profile you've built?"

"What?" she stammered in confusion. "Reid, I…"

"That's our job. You have to take it seriously. You can't just scribble words down and expect us to roll with it."

"Reid, calm down. I'm sorry…"

He cut her off mid sentence. "Sorry isn't good enough. These are people's lives you're messing with. You have to control that God complex of yours. You can't dictate how things should be. You can't even dictate your notes right!"

Now she was totally lost. "What's going on, Reid? Why are you upset with me?"

"You can't just make up the rules, Emily. It's not right."

As he continued to berate her over something so inconsequential like handwriting, Emily searched her memory for what she might have done to piss him off. When she returned their relationship was on shaky ground, Reid hurt that he didn't get a chance to say goodbye to her and that her death had been faked. But that was months ago and she thought they had worked through it. If it wasn't that, it must be something more current, possibly in the last couple of weeks. Then it struck her.

"Is this about Gideon?"

Reid's voice rose several octaves and she knew she had hit the nail on the head. "What if I didn't want to talk to him? I got over it. I put him behind me."

"No you didn't, Reid. You only think you did."

"There's that know-all, see-all, God complex of yours. You don't know everything."

Emily pinched the bridge of her nose as she repressed a sigh. Now was not the time or place for this particular argument. This conversation should be handled face to face and in private, not on the streets of Paris where anyone could hear.

"Did you say the Franklin case?" she asked, taking the high road and not responding to his insults. That's what Reid did when he was hurt or struggling; he avoided dealing with it and took potshots at those involved or who was convenient.

"Yes."

"Then grab pen and paper or limber up your fingers," she said and proceeded to give him the profile she had built in exacting detail. She made sure to cross all her 'T's' and dot her 'I's' so he didn't have anything else to complain about.

When she finished, Reid grunted his thanks and hung up, leaving Emily staring at the dead phone. "God complex?" she questioned.

"God complex is an unshakable belief portrayed by unfailing inflated feelings of personal privilege, ability or infallibility," Gideon supplied, coming up behind her.

Emily scowled at him. "I know what it is."

"Then why did you ask?"

"I didn't," she said, shoving her phone back in her pocket. "It was the conclusion I had come to on a consult that Reid took over from me. He just called to verify a few things since he was having some difficulty reading my notes."

"I can understand that. I've seen your handwriting," he said matter of factly.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, shooting him a second dirty look. " I only write that way when the notes are for my eyes only. I write much neater when someone else has to read them."

"I believe you, Prentiss." Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she wondered if he actually did or if he was just humoring her. "How is Spencer?" he asked, changing from one sticky subject to another.

"Uh…he seems fine. I really didn't get a chance to talk with him before I left." The little stinker had avoided her like the plague.

"Good. I was a little worried about him."

"On the plane you said the meeting went fine. Now you're saying it didn't?" she accused, her big sister protectiveness kicking in.

Gideon frowned at the accusation and spread his hands in appeasement. "It did, but at times it was difficult and we had to work through it. It felt good for both of us to get everything out in the open."

"Good."

She was truly happy that the young genius had been able to work out some of his abandonment issues with Gideon. She only wanted to help him because he was a dear friend and knew it was still troubling him. And how does he thank her? He gets his nose out of joint and accuses her of meddling. Well, there was nothing she could do about it now. It would have to hold until she returned stateside.

"It is," Gideon agreed. "Any luck on your canvassing?"

After interviewing Dieter and Sven, the two had decided to canvass the surrounding streets in hope that someone else might have seen Noah or Rolf and give them a couple of new leads. They also agreed that it would be best if they split up. They could cover more territory alone than together even though Emily had some misgivings about it since Gideon's knowledge of French was nonexistent. So she taught him a few key phrases like 'have you seen him' and 'do you speak English'. Then armed with a hastily bought French/English dictionary, she sent him on his way with the agreement that they would return to this spot in three hours time.

Emily shook her head as she gazed glumly down the street. "Not really. A few hits here and there, but nothing recent. I got the same results when I inquired about Rolf." The longer the day dragged on, the more she was convinced that the German was the John Doe in the morgue. "You?"

"Pretty much the same. Though a waitress at a small café thought she might have seen Noah and Rolf having breakfast together the day of or a couple of days before they both disappeared."

"What else did she say?" she asked, perking up at the news.

Gideon gave a helpless shrug. "I'm not sure. Her English wasn't so good and you know my French…" he tailed off.

Emily resisted the urge to grab his arm. "Do you remember where the café is?"

"Of course," he said with an indignant snort. It wasn't something he would forget. It could possibly be the last place Noah was seen.

"Take me to it."