Author's Note: Wow! I'm amazed by the response I've gotten on this story! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I will tell you that next Wednesday I will be posting another original work that takes place in the Cataclysm universe instead of updating this (it will be on AO3 but not here, obviously), just to give me additional time and allow me to focus on Sparkling Eyes and Cigarette Burns. If you want to keep up with the progress of this story, definitely follow my tumblr. Thanks for reading!

July 21st, 2012 - Present Day

Ed didn't know what to expect when he finally answered Agent Rossi's question. He had interacted with Rossi the least, and his three days of observation had offered no method of self-defense. They only told him he was more out of his depth than he realized. He didn't even think that Father character they had met mere days earlier would know what was going on.

Agent Hotchner—Hotch, the other teammates called him—seemed normal enough, but he didn't wear any kind of uniform. Clearly, he had some sort of position of power in the mysterious FBI, but he wore a suit and tie with no insignia or rank to be seen. Maybe in this new place, there were no ranks. Maybe there were, but they were secret, or communicated in some other way.

Agent Prentiss' shirt on the second day was low-cut. It didn't bother Ed, it just struck him as weird. He knew civilian women who wore more revealing clothes, and he had no problem with it. Winry, of course, was an automail mechanic, Paninya worked in construction, his teacher was a housewife, and—who was that woman in Dublith? Martel? She was a gang member. But he was used to military women on the job being largely covered up. Though, when he had spoken to Lieutenant Hawkeye off duty just a couple nights before he woke up in this place, her shirt had been somewhat low-cut. But again, she was off duty then, and Agent Prentiss clearly was not. Maybe it was normal. But it looked weird to him.

Agent Jereau, who insisted he call her JJ, had talked to him quite a bit about her son, Henry. Ed didn't mind—he liked to hear the stories, as it helped him pass the time—but he didn't understand so much of what she said. He wanted an eye-pad for Christ-mas? His godfather had promised to get him into Yail? It was all gibberish to him, and Ed couldn't even remember how many times the soldiers had grabbed small, dinging rectangles from their pockets and looked at them or even talked to them. It was those kinds of things that made him think he really was in some other world. On the other side of the Gate, perhaps? Or maybe somewhere inside it?

"Ed, could you run that by me again?"

Ed blinked a few times, pulling himself from his thoughts and restating his answer. "My name is Edward Elric, and I was born on February 3rd, 1899."

"Where were you born?"

Ed hesitated again, his brain filled with so many red flags he could hardly see two feet in front of himself. "I, uh… it's a small town in the countryside. Resembool. I don't know what country we're in right now, but I'm from Amestris."

"You grew up there, in Resembool?"

"Mostly. I left when I was twelve, but I go back sometimes to visit." He shrugged his shoulders and then winced. He should have learned by then that moving his automail was a terrible idea. He hadn't been able to sleep in days due to the pain in his stumps.

"Where did you go when you were twelve?"

Ed stared at Rossi for a few seconds, and then he decided he didn't have much to lose. If they thought he was crazy, at least they would stop suspecting him of murder and find the real killer before any more kids got hurt.

That was the part that was eating at him the most. Somewhere out there, a psycho was planning to torture and kill an innocent little kid, and the military was investigating him. He closed his eyes, and he saw those pictures Agent Morgan had showed him. It made him sick.

"I joined the military."

Rossi frowned slightly. "Really? How'd you swing that one? I mean, you seem a little young."

Ed allowed himself a grin, sniffing slightly. "You bet. Youngest State Alchemist in history. I'm pretty much a genius." Not that he was bragging or anything.

"State Alchemist? Is that some kind of special program?"

Ed shut his mouth and watched Rossi's face carefully. He knew he wasn't in Amestris anymore, but most other countries had still heard about State Alchemists. After all, hadn't Ling come from Xing because he had heard about the alchemical prowess of Amestris? Then again, Ed had already determined he wasn't in any country he knew. No one had asked him about alchemy—and in three days, they had asked him about almost everything—and Ed took that to mean there was no concept of alchemy at all. He should have known it was a bad idea to bring it up.

"You think I won't believe you?"

Ed paused for a second and then nodded. Rossi seemed trustworthy enough. Ed would see where telling the truth got him.

"Well, let me put your mind at ease. This is the year 2012, and there is no country called Amestris. There never has been." Rossi leaned back and folded his arms behind his head. "But I'm still listening to you, aren't I?"

Ed stopped, mouth hanging open for a moment as he struggled with his words. 2012? That was almost one hundred years! Not to mention, one hundred years wasn't nearly enough time for a country as large and influential as Amestris to be decimated and forgotten.

Ed pressed his lips together and considered Rossi's words for a moment. Even though Ed had no evidence to back up what he was saying, Rossi was still listening to him. Maybe once he explained everything, he could show them some alchemy, and they would believe him.

Maybe.

"Come on, kid, you can talk to me."

Ed narrowed his eyes but started talking nonetheless. "State Alchemists are… well, they're alchemists who work for the state. During times of war, they're used as weapons against other countries, and during times of peace… well, there aren't many of those." Ed shrugged his shoulders. "I only joined so I could access the military's research material."

Rossi frowned slightly, drumming his fingers on the table. "Alchemist? Like, turning lead into gold?"

Ed shook his head. "No. Making gold is illegal. It would hurt the economy. You know, inflation and all that." He shook his head again, placing his uncuffed hand on the table palm up. "Alchemy is the science of constructing, deconstructing, and reconstructing matter. Most alchemists have to use circular arrays to make their alchemy work, and with those arrays, they can manipulate materials into different shapes and forms."

Rossi nodded thoughtfully, but Ed still wasn't convinced the man believed him.

"So," Rossi started. "Theoretically, you could use alchemy to make a gun out of this table."

Ed rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. "No, of course not, and even if I could, I wouldn't. I don't kill people."

"Why can't you make a gun, Ed?" Rossi seemed genuinely curious, but Ed got the feeling the man was trying to show him a fault in his logic; he was hoping Ed would have a continuity problem he could use to convince Ed of his delusional state.

Too bad, old man.

"I can't do that because—based on what I can see—there isn't anything in here I could transmute into working bullets. I would need the components of gunpowder to do that. So, yeah, I could make something that looked like a gun, but depending on what this table is made of, it probably wouldn't work, and even if it did, it would have no bullets." Ed leaned back in his chair, glancing at the overhead light and squinting at the brightness. "It's called the Law of Equivalent Exchange. You can't make something out of nothing, even with alchemy. If you have a pound of steel, you can only transmute it into another object made only of a pound of steel or its components."

There were exceptions to that, of course, but he was hardly going to tell another military about the Philosopher's Stone.

Rossi hummed to himself and glanced up at the ceiling. He appeared to be lost in thought for a few moments, and then he asked another question. "Steel is made of iron and carbon, right? So, you could use alchemy to transmute a pound of steel into a pound of iron or carbon."

Ed shook his head again. Yeah, he's definitely trying to trip me up. Either that, or he's stupid. "No. Steel is mostly iron with less than one percent carbon. I could transmute it into something made of iron weighing slightly less than a pound, or something really small made of carbon. I already explained this—I can only change what is already there."

Rossi nodded his head with an 'aha' expression. He thought for another moment or two, and then he moved on to a new topic. "Okay. I can see how, with the right components, your military could use alchemy to make weapons. But how are the alchemists used as weapons?"

Ed swallowed briefly and bowed his head. "They…" He pressed his lips together in a tight line, and then he looked at Rossi again. "I've never killed anyone. But… State Alchemists usually have a specialty. I work under someone whose specialty is flame alchemy. He wears gloves with flint in the fingertips and an array on the backs. He snaps his fingers, which creates a spark, and transmutes the air around his target. By shifting the chemical make-up of the air, he's able to… destroy entire buildings and towns… just by snapping."

Ed swallowed again, thinking briefly of what Hawkeye had told him about the Ishvalan War of Extermination just a couple nights prior. He imagined what it must have looked like at the time, and it made his skin crawl.

"Sounds like he did some pretty terrible things," Rossi said, unperturbed.

"People say he's a war hero, but… I tried to ask him about it once." Ed frowned, thinking back to his early days in the military. "He said, 'History is written by the victors, and victors always think they're heroes.' He got really quiet after that, and I got the idea I wasn't supposed to ask."

What does any of this have to do with whether or not I'm crazy? Why do they want to know this stuff anyway? Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut… But then he thought of the kids. Kids who would die if the real killer wasn't caught soon. He thought of the pictures and how that much blood should never be able to come out of a body so small. How is this helping? What am I supposed to do?

Ed sighed and wished, not for the first time, that Al was there with him.

July 21st, 2012

"What has this kid been smoking?"

"He's surprisingly calm given the vivid nature of his delusions."

"I don't think he's delusional," Reid murmured, looking down at the small collection of notes he had made. "Delusions aren't this consistent or inconsistent."

Morgan looked at him for a moment and then shook his head. "What?"

"I mean he's been talking for five hours now, and he hasn't contradicted himself a single time." Reid glanced down at his sheet again and then up at the glass. "Delusions don't usually stick to rules—even their own, even the ones the delusion itself created—and they definitely don't make logical sense."

Emily gestured toward the conversation with nothing less than bewilderment on her face. "Are you saying this does?"

"Yes and no." Reid continued to watch the blonde boy, words falling rapidly from his tongue while he stared. "The Ishvalan War of Extermination and the militaristic state of the country he described are reminiscent of Nazi Germany during and around World War II, but if he had a delusion about being in an alternate version of that era, the year would be different. He talks about the conflict as a past event, so his delusion should put him somewhere in the mid-fifties, not 1914. On the other hand, if he were just picking bits and pieces of the real world and rewriting them to fit his delusion, we would have hit an inconsistency by now. Even his alchemy, which clearly defies the laws of physics as we know them, sticks to its own set of laws perfectly. Rossi has tried to trip him up multiple times, but the rules for his non-existent art are solid and actually make some sense scientifically."

"Reid, you've got to be kidding." Reid could hear the arched brow in Morgan's voice. "You don't actually think he's from another dimension, do you?"

Reid shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't say I did, but he's a rational human being. Remember when he said making gold was illegal because of inflation? That's why printing money is illegal. So even his alchemy, which presents itself as some kind of magic, can't be used to get around certain laws, like inflation and recession. It also can't be used to create things out of thin air. It's bound by some laws of physics, and it is consistent. You can't deny that."

Emily's mouth opened and shut a few times. "Well—" She looked between them a few times and then looked at Reid. "If he's not delusional, what is he?"

"Telling the truth." Reid snatched up a blank piece of paper and rushed into the interrogation room without waiting another second. "Ed, can you transmute a flower from this for me?"

Ed blinked in surprise. "What the—where did you come from?"

Reid pointed at the two-way mirror. "I was over there."

Ed's head snapped to the right, every muscle in his body going tense. "You were spying on me?"

Reid shook his head rapidly, anxious to get on to the part where Ed showed him whatever it was his brain had turned into an art of science-magic. "It's for your protection and Rossi's. Imagine if you really were a violent criminal and got out of your handcuffs. Or imagine if Rossi was like Morgan and lost his temper with you. Someone is always outside watching to make sure nobody gets hurt. Now—" he tapped the blank piece of paper, "—can you transmute this into a paper flower for me?"

Ed looked at the paper for a few seconds, and then he looked up at Reid, squinting suspiciously. "Why…?"

"Because what you're saying is scientifically unfeasible according to the laws of our science." Still excited, Reid tried to slow himself down. "I'm a scientist, and observation is an important part of science. I want to see the art you're describing."

Ed scowled at him, then at the mirror, and then back at him. "I don't use a transmutation circle. I… have another way of doing it. So that won't be what you're expecting." He moved his free hand toward his cuffed one, giving Reid another dirty look. "You're a scientist, huh?"

Reid's brow creased, confusion drawn across his features. "Yes?"

"I know you don't think it's gonna work, but when it does… you aren't gonna… experiment on me or something, right?" For a brief second, the distrust tapered away into fear before returning with a tinge of anger.

Reid gave a sideways sort of smile. "I, uh, I don't know about laws where you're from, but experimenting on people is highly illegal here."

Ed gave him one, final look, and then he brought his hands together and clapped. He pulled them apart and pressed his free hand flat on the paper, blue sparks and light coming from beneath his palm. He kept it there for a second, the paper drawing together in the center and growing upward until it was set in the shape of a rose.

Ed took the flower and placed it on their half of the table. "There."

Reid blinked. So did Rossi.

That was unexpected.

July 22nd, 2012 - After Midnight

Ed drummed his fingers on the table and tapped his foot, impatient. He had been sitting in the interrogation room by himself for at least an hour, and he was bored out of his mind. He showed them what they wanted, and they had to know by now that he wasn't their killer, so why was he still handcuffed to a table?

I can't stay here forever. I have to figure out how to get home. Al must be so worried… He grit his teeth, tilting his head down and inwardly cursing his inability to get things right. He needs me to get his original body back, and I up and disappear on him. He's probably freaking out, and he doesn't have anyone there with him. He won't even be able to research ways to find out where I went because I'm the one with the pocket watch.

Sighing, Ed drooped in his chair and idly kicked his right leg. He hadn't moved his left one in hours, and despite that, it still ached. Granted, it wasn't as bad as the sharp pain he got when he tried to move it, but it was annoying nonetheless.

It's nothing like the surgery. I could handle that, so I can handle this.

Ed barely finished the thought before the door swung inward, Agent Hotchner walking in and standing across from him. Ed blinked. "You're not sitting down. Man, I really hope that's a good thing."

"You're no longer a suspect, but this is still a delicate situation. I'm sure you understand that. We can't allow you to leave our custody for multiple reasons, but unless you give us a reason to think you'll run, we won't detain you." Hotchner gestured toward the door behind him. "If you're ready, we can take you back to our hotel. I'm sure you could use some sleep after these last few days."

Ed blinked a few more times, surprised by the hand of kindness being extended. Then he nodded, sitting up straight and waiting for the soldier to uncuff his hand. "Uh, you're going to keep looking, right? For the killer, I mean."

Hotchner removed the handcuffs as he answered. "We kept looking for other possible leads while questioning you. Some members of my team went to get our latest suspect and bring them in for questioning."

Ed heaved a sigh of relief and went to get to his feet. "That's g—"

His left leg collapsed beneath him, pain shooting up his leg into his hips, and he hit the floor with a loud string of angry curses.

"Edward, what's wrong?"

Ed cracked an eye open, the other screwed shut in pain, and saw Agent Hotchner hovering over him. "Just Ed is fine." He sucked air through his teeth and tried to sit up. He was somewhat successful, but when he tried to get his legs beneath him, his left one gave again. "It's my automail. I can't tell if it's the weather… or if it's just 'cause it's cold in here… or something else, but it hurts. Boy, does it hurt."

Hotchner frowned. "Do you need me to carry you?"

"Do I—? No! I don't need anyone to carry me! I'm not an invalid, my leg just hurts! I can walk myself, you know, I'm not a little kid! I'm practically an adult!" Ed fumed, steam practically shooting out of his ears.

"How do you propose you get to the hotel then? Because it looks to me like you can't walk." Hotchner crouched down, extending his arms.

"Hey, I don't need help!" Ed pushed him away angrily, and with an expression of extreme pain on his face, he got his feet beneath him. "If you think this is bad…" he slowly got himself into a standing position, though he had to lean against the table for support, "… you should have seen me when I first got my automail."

"I take it it's a painful process." Hotchner said, holding out his arm in the direction of the open doorway. "I'm surprised your parents allowed you to go through such a thing."

Ed took careful steps toward the door, pain shooting up his leg and into his hip. "I don't have parents." He took another step, and he started to wonder if his body was rejecting whatever process had dropped him in this alternate world.

"Who do you live with?" Hotchner asked.

Ed stepped into the hall and started to look around, wondering which way he was supposed to go. "I live out of hotels, mostly. I travel a lot."

Hotchner didn't ask another question after that, stepping out and pointing down the hall. "We're going this way."

Nodding, Ed started to walk, keeping his hand on the wall. "So… you seem like the guy who's in charge…"

"Yes, I am."

They stepped into an open area, and it reminded Ed of Mustang's office. There were desks, and even though some of the contraptions were foreign to him, he knew paperwork when he saw it. It must have been some kind of military office where they investigated crimes.

"Morgan. Reid." Hotchner called out the names, looking across the collection of desks to some doors on the other side of the room. "Edward is ready to go to the hotel."

Responding to the words, Agent Morgan and the floppy-haired guy who didn't introduce himself but asked Ed to make a paper flower stepped out of one of the rooms. Ed immediately tensed, taking a half step back.

"Easy, kid," said Morgan as he walked around the desks. "I don't actually hate your guts, even though my nose is still killing me. It was just an interrogation tactic." He walked up to the duo and held out his hand, and while he didn't quite smile, he definitely didn't seem as angry as he had during previous encounters. "In case you forgot, I'm Agent Derek Morgan."

Ed looked at the hand for a moment, and then he reached out and shook it, pain throbbing in his shoulder. "Ed." He looked at the floppy-haired man. "I guess that makes you Reid."

Reid smiled and nodded. "Yup. That's me." He lifted his hand in a wave. "Sorry. I don't shake hands."

Ed couldn't deny he was relieved he wouldn't have to move his arm again, but he just offered a nod and started looking around for an exit.

"Hotch." Morgan lowered his voice and leaned a little closer. "I told the local police that we found evidence showing Ed was in another state at the time of the first two abductions. That's why we're letting him go, and none of them know he's going to be at the hotel with Reid and me."

Ed's eyes widened slightly, and there was a little part of him that was suspicious. Why did they want him all to themselves? Were they going to do something illegal to him? Or was it that the 'local police' couldn't be trusted? Though… maybe it was best if only a few people knew about him being from another universe.

"I'm going back to the conference room," Hotchner said, not giving Ed much time to think things over. "I take it you can handle Edward from here?"

"You got it, Hotch." Morgan started walking.

They're more casual than our military… so maybe they run things differently. Maybe they don't do experiments on people… like the ones Dr. Marcoh did when he created the Philosopher's Stones. Maybe… Ed followed along, wishing he still had a wall to lean against, and he started to look around, wondering what the world was going to look like outside of the military building. I still remember those huge buildings, and the cars were completely different, and…

Ed continued ruminating.

July 22nd, 2012

Reid held out the liquid gels and a paper cup of water, giving Ed a somewhat awkward smile as he tried to get him to take something for his aching body. Reid and Morgan had decided, without words passing between them, that it was best if Reid got him to do it, given Ed's history with Morgan. But standing there with relief in his hands, Reid found it didn't much matter who offered it.

"What is that?"

"It's Advil." Reid extended his hand a little more. "It's for pain."

Ed gave the pills a scrutinous look, golden eyes flickering between the Advil and Reid's face. "Does it knock me out?"

"Nope." Reid gave another smile, and keeping in mind that it looked like this kid might be from another world, he tried to explain. "It's nothing bad. It just works with your body to reduce inflammation. I thought it might help with your automail." If he recalled correctly—and of course he did—that was what Ed had called his metal prosthetics.

Frowning, Ed looked at the medicine a little longer, and then he slowly reached out his flesh hand. "Okay… They're normal pills, right? Just swallow them whole?"

Reid nodded. "Yeah.

Ed slowly grabbed the pills and, after a final look of uncertainty, popped them in his mouth. He grabbed the water with the same hand and took a drink, struggling for a moment before swallowing. He coughed, making a face, and then he shook his head.

"Eugh." Ed handed the cup back. "Thanks?"

"Sure." Reid took the cup and set it on the nearby nightstand. "You can take a shower after you eat something. It might help with the pain, too."

Ed gave him a guarded look. "Yeah." He took a half step back and half-sat, half-collapsed onto the bed. He grabbed at his left thigh, face screwing up in pain. "Are you—are you gonna find that guy who's killing the kids?"

Reid sat down on the bed across from the one Ed was seated on, placing his hands on his knees as he peered across the gap with curious, honey brown eyes. "Well, we can never guarantee it, but we're pretty good at what we do."

"Right…" Ed gave him a curious sort of look. "And… what is it that you do, exactly?"

"We profile killers." Reid gestured with his hands, as he often did when he talked. "Because of research gathered over the years, we've determined there are certain traits and habits almost all killers have, and that enables us to narrow down possible targets. For example—" and he probably wasn't allowed to share case details, but under the circumstances, he didn't really care, "—we realized there was more than one killer based on the kind of torture that was used as well as the fact that there were witnesses at some of the abductions but not others. We have two personalities and skill levels associated with the same deaths, so the logical conclusion is that there must be two killers." He spread his hands slightly. "Then we look at the necessary traits of killers who are willing to work with other killers. They tend to have different backgrounds, different jobs, different lifestyles, and the result is something we call a profile that helps us figure out who our suspect is."

Ed blinked, looking at Reid with wide eyes, and for the first time since Reid had met the boy, he smiled. "That's really cool. What branch of the military are you?"

"Not military." Reid shook his head. "Just law enforcement."

Frowning, Ed gave Reid a confused look. "Aren't they… the same thing?"

Reid shrugged. "Maybe where you come from, but here we have different branches of military, and then different branches of law enforcement. We work together sometimes, but we're different." He put a hand on his own chest. "I'm with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, and we're a part of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. We're run by the government."

Ed once again looked impressed. "So, your military doesn't run your country?"

"No. We're—"

"Got the food!" Morgan came through the door with a bag from McDonald's and a tray of drinks. "Sorry about the wait. There was a line at the drive-thru."

Reid was disappointed by the interruption, but it really was important for Ed to eat something, so he just moved toward the head of the bed and patted the lower end for Morgan to sit on. "Thanks, Morgan."

"Sure." Morgan sat down and started digging through the bag, pulling out some fries and burgers and distributing the food. "I don't know what kind of food you have where you come from, but this food is really popular here."

Ed grabbed some of the fries and sniffed them before putting them in his mouth. He chewed for a moment, and then his eyes widened slightly, and he nodded. "That's good."

Taking his own burger, Reid took a big bite and started to chew, wondering if Morgan would have his own questions to ask the boy who was, apparently, from somewhere not of their world.

"So…" Ed swallowed, looking down as he hesitated. "You both… carry guns."

Reid glanced at Morgan, who lowered the burger he had been about to bite and spoke.

"Yeah, we do."

Ed nodded, keeping his gaze down. "I… don't like guns."

Reid wet his lips. "Lots of people don't. There's nothing wrong with that." He cleared his throat. "Unfortunately, we need to keep these on us. We're still on duty."

"I know. I just…" He looked up at them, and while the look in his eyes wasn't fear, it was still something uncertain and uncomfortable. "Have you ever killed someone?"

Exchanging another look, Morgan and Reid both nodded.

"We have to." Morgan shrugged slightly. "When you're standing there, across from your killer, and he's got a knife to someone's throat… you don't really have much of a choice."

Ed nodded again and took a big bite of his burger, and it looked like he didn't have anything else to share on the subject.

Hotch sent us a text saying Ed claimed not to have parents. Maybe they were killed in a shooting of some kind. Or maybe the kid just didn't like guns. It doesn't matter. What does matter is that this kid has powers beyond anything we've ever seen, and if he really is from another world, we need to find a way to get him home.

They mostly stayed silent after that, and once Ed was done with his food, he went into the adjoining bathroom to take a shower, moving in a stiff way that said he was still in pain.

"Reid."

Turning his head, Reid looked at Morgan and popped the last bit of burger into his mouth. "Yeah?"

"This is… insane. I mean, this is really, really—" Morgan put his food down, and Reid wondered if he had just been eating to make Ed more comfortable. "How did he do what he did with the paper? And those limbs; those electronic, mechanical, highly advanced limbs?"

Reid pursed his lips and shrugged. "I mean, it's definitely out there, but… is there another answer? Magic is real? And some kid learned how to use it and made up this imaginary world with alchemy and militaristic rule and wars that never happened to go along with his magical powers?"

"I know, but come on, Reid. This kind stuff doesn't happen in the real world. It happens in movies." Morgan put a hand to his head, massaging for a moment before he tried to finish "How are we supposed to believe that—that he's actually—?"

Reid slowly opened his mouth, and he knew he was probably the most receptive person on the team due to his extensive knowledge of science and what the true possibilities were… but there was also a very large part of him that thrived on logic and predictability and the explainable. "If we deny the truth in what he's telling us despite the evidence he's shown, then we're going to be the delusional ones."

Morgan wet his lips. "Yeah, I know, Reid, but—" He heaved a sigh and shook his head, dropping his hand down to the mattress. "You know what? It doesn't matter. If he really is from another world, we've gotta get him back." Unsurprisingly, his protective instincts were influencing his thought process, even around the shock of alternate dimensions. "He's putting on a brave face, but he's gotta be scared out of his mind. If I were him, I would've run and stayed silent through interrogation, too."

Nodding, Reid lifted a hand and tapped his chin. "We definitely need to keep an eye on his emotional state." He paused then, considering Morgan's first statement about getting the boy back to his home world. "Hopefully, it'll be some kind of one-sided occurrence."

"What do you mean?" Morgan asked, squinting slightly.

"If both… dimensions, shall we say, have to do something at the same time in order for the crossover to happen, we're in trouble. We have no way of communicating with the other side and getting people to do what they need to do on their end. But, if it's one-sided, we just need to figure out what Ed did on his side and then have him replicate it on this side." Reid looked toward the closed bathroom door, a frown pulling on his lips. "But it's possible he doesn't even know what he did."

Morgan hummed. "On top of figuring all this out, we can't stop hunting for our second killer." He grabbed the empty food boxes from the bed and started putting them in the to-go bag. "I'll head back to the station, see if there's anything new on the table, and you stay here with Ed."

Reid was not-so-secretly excited by that prospect. It wasn't that he didn't care about the kids being killed, he was just burned out from days of no leads, and… there was another world out there, and he wanted to know all about it. "Text me updates. I know we don't want Ed to run off, but if you need me, we can figure something out. Maybe have an officer watch him?"

"You got it, kid." Morgan carried the bag of garbage over to the trash can by the door, dropping the waste and leaving the hotel room behind.

Reid pulled his legs up onto the mattress and leaned back against the headboard, watching the bathroom door carefully. I need to find out more.