Gideon was correct that the waitress had seen Noah. With him standing impatiently off to one side, Emily carefully quizzed her about that day after some encouragement. The girl, like many people, wanted to help but was hesitant about getting involved in something that really wasn't any of their business. But once Emily assured her that Noah wasn't in trouble with the law and that they were simply worried about his welfare since he hadn't been heard from in quite awhile, which was unusual for him. After that the waitress was a regular chatterbox.

"Well what did she have to say?" he asked in a more conciliatory tone after Emily had thanked the waitress and gave her a tip for her time.

Emily gestured that they continue strolling along the boulevard as they talked. She knew he was working hard to rein in his impatience and figured the walking would burn off his excess energy, allowing him to stay focused on the task on hand and not jumping down her throat over every minor incident.

"She did confirm that she did wait on Noah and Rolf on the day we assumed they disappeared on. I showed her the group photo of the guys Dieter emailed me and she pointed both of them out."

A smile tugged at his lips. "Your own little version of a police lineup?"

"Yup," she agreed with a smile of her own. "And it worked too. I got a positive ID on both. Anyway, she said they were getting along just fine. No raised voices or heated words; just some joking and good nature ribbing. They were friendly to her and she thought they were cute…very cute."

"Did she happen to overhear what they had planned for the day, like where the hell they were going?" It was becoming crystal clear to him that the waitress knew absolutely nothing and was wasting their precious time. She was only doing it because she enjoyed being the center of attention. If he had vocalized any of his sentiments, Emily would have scolded him for jumping to conclusions before hearing al the facts.

"Unfortunately no, but she did say that Rolf was the first to leave. About five minutes later Noah ran off after him. And before you ask, she didn't know the reason why."

"What good is she?" Gideon huffed, his frustration showing again.

"Well she did drop a little tasty tidbit. Remember that case we had in New Orleans?" He nodded. "What was the one thing we determined that would make a guy separate from his friends?"

His eyebrows rose. "A girl. There was a girl with them."

"Yes and she appears to be with Noah. She didn't leave when Rolf left."

Gideon felt a surge of hope and excitement. Finally another tangible lead. "Please tell me you got her description and better yet…her damn name."

Emily hated to disappoint him, but she about to so she didn't hold back. "Sort of and no." She ignored his darkening face as she scratched her ear. "The waitress only had eyes for the guys. She could describe them to a T, down to the mole on Rolf's elbow. Their female companion was of average height, average complexion, any length blonde hair and no idea on eye color. If she heard the name, she can't remember what it was."

"So that leaves us with over the half of the female population of Paris to weed out," he groused.

"I'm afraid so," Emily agreed, flipping her notebook shut and stowing it in her pocket. "I'm willing to bet it's a local girl and they could be holed up in her apartment until everything blows over."

"That doesn't help."

"I know."

Gideon stopped in the shade of an awning and stared off into the distance, gazing at nothing in particular as he shifted through the myriad of thoughts swirling in his head. Emily stood quietly at his side, equally discouraged at the lack of progress. They had numerous sightings, but no concrete evidence pointing to Noah's exact location. Gideon also had sent multiple text and voice messages to the disposable number in hope of getting a response, but nothing so far. The phone was either still turned off or thrown away.

"So what do you want to do?" she asked, eventually breaking the silence and tossing the ball back in his court. Noah was his nephew so he was the one to make the final decisions. "Do you want to keep looking or should we head back to the hotel and let the police handle it from here?" The second suggestion left a bad taste in her mouth. Emily hated giving up, but they were quickly running out of options and didn't have the clout of the Paris police, or the Bureau for that matter, to back them up.

Gideon was of like mind and quickly answered. "We keep canvassing in this area. There's bound to be others who have seen Noah. I'm not leaving Paris until every stone had been turned over, even if it takes me months to do it."

Emily was relieved to hear him say that. She wasn't ready to quit…yet. "I'll stay as long as it is feasibly possible for me to do so. Hotch is going to need me back at some point."

"Understandable." He blew out a breath. "Lets stay together this time. We may cover less ground, but we won't have to do any backtracking because I needed you to interpret. And if we're real lucky and find some cameras, you might be able to sweet talk them into allowing us to view the video."

"Works for me, but first I need to buy a disposable phone. I want to call in an anonymous tip about Rolf. The poor boy needs to be identified so he can go home to his family."

After placing the call, Gideon was amazed at how easily Emily disassembled the cell phone and discretely disposed of its remains along their route. He wanted to ask where she had learned that particular skill, it wasn't something generally taught at the FBI Academy. Most people would simply toss the whole phone in the trash, but she wiped each piece clean of fingerprints before dropping them in separate trashcans. It was like she was making sure the phone and the call couldn't be traced back to her in any way. But in the end he didn't because he didn't want to anger her again and have her change her mind about staying. He sorely needed her; he needed her level headedness to keep his own anger and impatience in check. Of course, he would never tell Emily any of this because it was something he never would do.

They resumed their canvassing and kept doggedly at it until darkness descending forced them to stop. Their sources began to dry up as many of the places that didn't depend on the Paris nightlife shuttered their doors. Emily and Gideon were disappointed that all their effort had generated very little results. All they got were a few vague sightings, and, when allowed to view video surveillance, the images were too grainy to make a positive identification. Defeated but vowing to return tomorrow to pick up where they had left off, they decided to grab a bite to eat; neither had eaten since breakfast, before heading back to the hotel. Dinner with confit de canard, red Bordeaux and a French strawberry pie, was a quiet affair. Each was so lost in their own thoughts that the only brief conversation was over how good the food was. The silence continued on Sebastien's somewhat more sedate drive back to the hotel and on the elevator ride up to the suite. There they said their goodnights and turned in, each hoping for a restful sleep.

Emily stood in the shadows staring at the old apartment building across the street. She had no clue why she returned to this particular place. She thought she had seen the last of it when she hastily packed up to return to the States to rescue Jack from Doyle. Yet here she was. After a long and frustrating day turning over every stone in a futile search for Noah. She had been unable to relax and go to sleep. Swimming laps in the hotel pool hadn't been therapeutic this time around. After tossing and turning for two hours, she gave up and decided to get some fresh air, hoping it would settle her mind. Emily threw on some sweats and took the stairs down to the lobby instead of the elevator, figuring if one of their tails were still there, he would be watching the bank of elevators. She poked her head around the corner and there was not a soul loitering in the lobby, only the night clerk on duty at the front desk. Passing by she gave him a friendly wave and slipped out into the Paris night.

She had only planned on taking a walk around the block, but her feet had other ideas as her mind wandered back to Noah. Of their own accord they had brought her back here. Why? To confront her past? Or simply curiosity about the place she had been holed up in for two of the longest months of her life? It was probably a little of both, she decided. Maybe if she faced some of her demons that dwelled here, some of the nightmares would go away or, at least, lose some of their power over her.

As she continued to study the building, it occurred to her that it seemed more decrepit than she remembered; like it had aged considerably in the six months she had last been here. Emily's hand slipped into the pocket of her jacket to wrap her fingers around the keys within it. She hadn't even realized she still had them until she was digging through her go bag looking for the charger to her cell phone. She pulled them out and gazed thoughtfully at them, wondering if they still worked. Odds were that the locks had been changed long ago, but as her eyes drifted up to the windows of her old apartment, Emily sensed the air of abandonment permeating it.

"Just go back to the hotel, Emily," she said aloud, but found herself walking across the street and up the partially opened door.

Emily hesitated for a brief second before stepping inside. The vestibule was still dingy, but now trash had accumulated in all of the corners. The Super might have been completely worthless in regards to getting things fixed, but she always kept the vestibule swept. She could never figure out why the woman did it because it only showed off the peeling and flaking paint and the carpet so worn, you could actually see all the holes. Now it appeared the Super didn't care how it looked to potential renters. Before she could chicken out, Emily slowly made her way up the stairs, remembering where to place her foot on each tread so that it wouldn't creak.

When she reached the fourth floor, Emily realized she didn't need the keys to get into her old apartment. The door hung askew on one hinge from being kicked in, which was quite an accomplishment since it was solid oak. Reaching down, she brushed back her jacket and wrapped her hand around the grip of the Glock resting comfortably on her hip. Even though she had all the necessary paperwork to legally carry her weapon in France, this was the first time she removed it from the suite's safe except at night when she slept with it on the nightstand. In this neighborhood it was better to err on the side of caution.

The place was a disaster zone. Whoever had broken in had trashed it while searching for anything of value. Surprisingly they had even found her hiding spot under the floorboards of the closet. The few pieces of furniture had been overturned, the cabinets in the tiny kitchen open and their contents dumped on the floor. It was obvious from the amount of dust covering all available surfaces; nobody had occupied the apartment after she had left. That feeling she had on the street was true, the building was now abandoned. Emily righted the armchair by the windows she had spent many a sleepless night sitting in staring out into the darkness and sat down. As her troubled gaze drifted over the sad apartment, she wondered why she had even bothered to come back here.

After several minutes of deep contemplation, Emily had her answer…well she hoped she did. Seeing the apartment the way it was now, kind of represented how she felt then; like a real mess. When she was holed up here, things were tough and there was no end in sight for her misery. She felt so alone, so isolated from friends and family and everything she held dear to her. All she had for company were her own sad thoughts and the fear that Doyle would find her and finish the job. On her really bad days, she wished he had. The person she was then wasn't one she ever wanted to be again. It was dark and depressing, a far cry from where she was today. So much had changed for her. She still had her moments, but she had grown and learned not to focus on that time in her life. She was back among the people who cared about her and was moving past that. Maybe that was why she ended up there today. Emily needed to see what became of her past and to say goodbye to it.

With that thought the apartment ceased to represent her personal hell for two months and morphed into simply a place to hang your hat when not at work. It no longer held any power over her. Feeling lighter in mind than she had in a long time, Emily rose to her feet. It was time to go home. As she was leaving, her eyes fell on the books she had left behind. They laid scattered over the floor, their pages bent and spines broken. They didn't deserve this fate. They may not be valuable to the thieves who had broken in, but they were to others who cherished them for what was between their covers. Emily scrounged around until she found a bag to put them in, planning on taking them back to the hotel. If she couldn't get them to fit in her carryon bag, she would ship them back to the States like she had done with the gifts for her friends. The books would make nice additions to her future library in her new house. Dropping the keys she no longer needed on the counter, Emily walked away from a piece of her past with her head held high and with no regrets. The time she had spent here had made her a stronger woman and she would always be thankful for that.

Capitaine Dubois paused outside the door to compose himself. He hated coming here with every being of his body, but when he was ordered to make an appearance, you did so without hesitation. The man he personally reported to was not one to be trifled with. Precisely on the hour, he knocked on the door and waited for the invitation to enter. When he received it, he marched into the office and up to the desk, standing stiffly at attention with his hands clasped behind his back.

The man seated behind the large desk ignored him as he scanned the report on his blotter. When he was finished, he took off his reading glasses, leaned back in his custom leather chair and steepled his fingers. "Bonjour Capitaine." a man greeted. "I hope you come to me with good news. What is the status of our… problem?"

"Monsieur," Dubois said with a sharp nod. "We have learned the identity of the body we uncovered, the one once believed to be Noah Eisenberg is a Rolf von Grimmelshausen."

"A native?"

"No, a German national."

"How did this information come about?"

"Anonyme pointe."

"Do we know who this anonymous person is?"

"No, Monsieur. All we know for certain that it was a woman with an indeterminable accent"

The man behind the desk began tapping his fingers together in a way that Dubois found a tad unnerving. "What about the Americans that came to view the body?"

"I put my best people on the Americans. They were to follow them and report back, just like we discussed."

"Ah, magnifique. Tell me they led you to the boy." He received no answer. "Dubois? Tell me you know where the boy is!"

The Capitaine stared at a spot on the wall. "I am sorry, but no. The man and woman both lost their tails. Then they got in a car with a crazy driver," he said. "Fou. Absolument fou."

The man felt his anger rising. He expected results from his men, not excuses. "This is not what I like to hear."

"I know, Monsieur. I will find him."

"It is of the utmost importance that he be found and brought to me."

"I understand, Monsieur."

He leaned forward to rest his now folded hands in the center of the desk, eyes stony and voice flat. "No, I don't think you do. I am sorry to say, Capitaine Dubois, that if you are incapable of doing this job, I will have to find someone better suited to get things done." It sounded more like a threat than a kind push to get on top of things. "Get me results now, or I find someone who will."