Mitchell and Roman sat in a parked car on the abandoned street. Roman looked through the night vision binoculars at the building across from them. While Mitchell poured more coffee from the thermos.

"Anything?"

"Nothing," Roman replied. "I don't know if anything is going to happen." He lowered the binoculars and turned to Mitchell. "Why do you think it will be this one?"

"I don't. It's just a feeling. Besides, we can't be in three places at once."

Roman reached down into his bag and held up a package toward Mitchell. "HobNob?"

"What?"

"It's a biscuit. I also have some Viennese whirls if you fancy more of a sweet."

"I'm a marine," Mitchell said with authority. "Marines have run across German fields directly into machine-gun fire, we raised the flag on Mt. Suribachi, I, personally was in the Second Battle of Fallujah. We are the ones America calls when they want the job done right. We take green boys and turn them into men. We drink our coffee black, and god damnit, we like our cookies sweet. Give me one of those whirls."

Roman's mouth hung open, and blinked his eyes a few times. "Here, take all of them," he said, pushing the package into his hand.

Mitchell took a bite from the cookie and then drank his coffee. "You wouldn't happen to have any pink wafers, would you? Those are the best."

"No, unfortunately. My girlfriend loves them too, and she's always devouring all of them."

"That's Amanda, right?"

"Amelia."

"That's right. She's the cop, er, constable."

"She's recently been promoted to Detective Sergeant."

"Well, that's impressive."

"So, you thinking about nailing that down?"

"Nailing? Oh, you mean getting married. Yeah, I've thought about it. But you know how it can be. Two professionals in extremely demanding jobs. There will be things we won't be able to tell each other. Some couples can handle that, and some can't."

Mitchell nodded. "Yeah, I've been there."

"Is that why we're here?" Roman asked delicately.

"Here?"

"In this particular location? I mean, you said you had a feeling. Would that feeling belong to the person who is inside the building?"

"Are you suggesting that I would put my personal feelings before the mission?"

Roman held out his hand defensively. "No, not saying that. What I am saying is that it wouldn't matter which building we were at, so it might as well be this one, right?"

"It just so happens that this building is in the middle of the three. That if anything were to happen at either of the others that we are already in close proximity to get there versus coming from any of the others. It has nothing to do with the person inside."

"Ah, I see. I guess that makes sense then."

"Exactly," Mitchell nodded, then went back to looking out the driver's side window."

"I guess that explains why you told her to be in this building," Roman said nonchalantly. He then turned his head to look out the other window.

Mitchell started to turn toward him and stopped. "I might have made a tactical suggestion of where she should be."

"Well, then, there's the other thing to consider."

"What's that?"

Roman turned to Mitchell and looked him in the eye. "What if it really is this building that's hit?"

Mitchell tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "I've lost men in battle."

"Soldiers, yes. But Emily?"

"She's an FBI Agent. She's aware of potential dangers her job could bring," he said distantly.

"Yeah. Another reason I wish Amelia would give up her job and start doing kiss-o-grams or something."

Hugh met with Rossi after the interrogation for an update. "Here, hold onto this, kid. I need to check with Hotch about something." Rossi handed over a stack of folders and then checked his watch. "We are all meeting soon for an update at 10."

"Wait! What time is it?" Hugh glanced at his wrist. "There's someplace I have to be. I'll be back." He ran off down the hall, still holding the folders. Hugh swerved around people in the hallways and then pushed open the double doors that let out into the atrium garden.

Paul was standing along one of the large planters. He turned when the doors slammed shut to see Hugh coming toward him.

"I am so sorry. I won't be able to stay that long. There's a situation… actually a couple, and I need to get back."

Paul smiled and looked down to the shine on his black shoes, then back to Hugh. "I didn't know you were alive."

Hugh's face sunk. "Yes, I know. I wasn't able to explain the situation I was in." He took a breath. "I am profoundly sorry that I did not reach out to you to let you know that I was alive. And even if I did, I wouldn't have been able to continue to see you. I took the easy way out, making me a cretin and a louse."

"The word 'bastard' comes to mind," Paul said with a smirk. "What did you mean that you wouldn't have been able to see me?"

"Because of my job. It was extremely complicated. And when I met you, I wasn't even honest about who I worked for."

"Of course. You can't just go around telling people you work for the CIA."

Hugh paused and looked into his eyes. "You knew?"

"Of course, I knew. This is also why I knew that if you had died, there would be no report of it. I didn't even know if Hugh was your real name."

"It is."

Paul nodded. "Well, let me at least congratulate you on not being dead. I'm glad."

"I am still astonished that someone can be so unbelievably kind."

"I wouldn't normally. But since you recommended I read Marlowe, I made an exception."

Hugh's face lit up. "Oh? Did you enjoy it?"

Paul took a step forward, held his hand to Hugh, and grazed over his fingers. "Come live with me and be my love, and we will all the pleasures prove."

Hugh took an audible gulp and then dropped the folders from his hand. "Shit!" he called out and crouched down to pick them up.

Paul moved down to help. "If I had known I would get that reaction, I would have said it earlier." He picked up a few papers and opened the folder to put them back in. "Oh, you know Brandon Shaw?"

"Yes, I do. I wasn't aware you would have been acquainted with him." The two of them stood up with the out of sorts papers in their hands.

"Yes, he has been working with us for a few years. Your own Major Grant set it up."

Hugh shuffled the folders around, pulled out a picture, and held it up in front of Paul. "This Major Grant?"

Paul's eyebrows furrowed. "No."

Hugh grabbed hold of Paul's forearm. "You need to come with me right now."