"This is Houston's Fifth Ward. It accounts for a large percent of the city's growing homicide rate due to gang violence and a bustling narcotics trade. Although in the last 48 hours, there have been three distinctive murders in the Ward."

Images of the area appeared on the screen.

"Distinctive?" Derek asked.

“Three men, three different socioeconomic groups, all killed on the street with their necks snapped,” reported JJ.

And now pictures of the three victims could be seen.

"There appears to be no other injury and there's no apparent connection between the victims or motive–"

JJ stopped and everyone looked at the door. The meeting started long ago, but Spencer shuffled into the room and sat down without a word of explanation or apology.

Since no one said anything, JJ cleared her throat and continued talking.

"The Ward's detectives are inundated with homicides. Gang violence is a big problem. Shootings, armed robberies, is an everyday occurrence, but this type of street attack is new to them."

Although no one says anything to Spencer, Parker wouldn't just let it go.

"We'll talk later," said Parker inaudible.

The young genius rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the conversation.

“Could it be gang-related?” Emily wanted to know. "Maybe some new type of initiation rite?"

"The gangs in the Ward use guns. In fact, no known gangs exhibit this type of MO."

"What about dope?" Derek asked. "These guys come up with pretty freaky ways of killing the competition to get their message out."

"Yeah, but there just doesn't seem to be any connection between the victims and the drug world," said JJ.

"Homeless man, a construction worker. Security guard."

"Just three dead men and no witnesses."

"We're looking for a homicidal serial criminal in a neighborhood populated by criminals. The challenge will be separating him from the rest."

"Yet we have no evidence, no apparent interaction between the UnSub and the victims pre or post-mortem, and an indistinguishable MO. Should be simple," commented Spencer.

~~~~

"Our life is made by the death of others."

Leonardo da Vinci.

"We got a construction worker, outsider in the community. We got a security guard, that's an authority figure. And then we've got a homeless man that's a powerless victim that no one would notice missing," summarized Derek, as the Jet was in the air.

"So who is he targeting?"

"Let's see if any of the victims frequented the same stores or sites."

"He used blitz attacks, which means he most likely lacks the interpersonal skills needed to coerce his victims into coming close."

"He also used the element of surprise which means he may have stalked his victims before killing them," Parker added.

"Well, if that's the case, I want to go to the last crime scene and see where he may have been hiding," reported Derek.

"I want to see the neighborhood for myself. I'll go with you."

"Good, the rest of us will go to the precinct and set up shop," Hotch instructed.

"I'll map out the area and see if I can find any places the victims would have visited in the neighborhood," said Spencer.

"Good, maybe we can find a connection between them. I'll help you with that," Emily suggested.

"I can handle it," Spencer replied.

"I wasn't suggesting that you couldn't."

"Isn't that what 'I'll help you with it', means?"

"Spence, Emily just wants to help," Parker tried to settle the little argument.

Emily looked confused between Parker, who was sitting next to her, and Spencer, and the others were also observing the situation.

The couple looked at each other, having a silent conversation.

"Reid. Prentiss will help you with the geographical profiling and victimology," Hotch interrupts the discussion.

"Fine."

"Remember this is a high-crime area. Be vigilant. Nobody goes anywhere alone."

~~

Even in the police station there was no peace from the noise of the construction machines that were demolishing buildings, re-grading streets and so on all over the neighborhood.

Parker and the others were just finishing getting settled in when JJ re-entered the room.

"What's that?" Hotch asked.

"One of the detective's wives made us cookies," JJ explained.

At the word 'cookies', Emily and Parker perked up.

"Wow, homemade cookies?"

"Yeah, I guess that's what they mean by Southern hospitality," said the blonde woman.

She spoke the last words with an accent and placed the plate in the middle of the table.

"What are you saying?", Spencer wanted to know.

The young genius stood at the board with the map a few steps away from the others.

"Southern hospitality!" Emily repeated a little louder.

Spencer went to the small window and closed it, but not without a bit of struggle.

"How can anyone concentrate?" How can anyone hear anything with all this work going on?"

"Well, you're going to have to get used to it. Construction crews are working around the clock," said JJ.

"We saw it on the way in, Spence," Parker reminded him, grabbing one of the cookies. 

"Are you sure about the cookie?"

And suddenly it was dead quiet.

Parker's head snapped in his direction. Spencer pinned the last pin to the board and turned back to the others.

"What?"

Emily and JJ were too stunned to speak. Hotch looked like he wanted to say something, but Parker motioned for him not to interfere.

The young agent stood directly in front of Spencer, took a bite of the cookie and made a not-so-friendly gesture.

Then they turned around.

Spencer was confused about what just happened.

Why was Parker suddenly so angry?

He just said that Parker couldn't concentrate, if they ate too much sugar (which was true).

And Parker would be frustrated when they could help effectively.

"The city's trying to return to its splendor and that means that Houston's poorest are being kicked out of their homes," Parker changed the subject.

As if on cue, Derek, Gideon, and Detective Fuller walked into the room.

They looked around the latest crime scene.

"UnSub might be homeless," Gideon said without wasting any time. "He appears to have been living in a building."

The older profiler joined Spencer at the board.

"Next to where the security guard was attacked."

"These are the locations of the last three murders. All near abandoned buildings."

"He knows the neighborhood. Maybe he was recently displaced."

"That could be a motive," said Emily. "A construction worker, a security guard at a construction site. Payback?"

"What about the homeless man?"

"Well, we get a lot of beefs down there among the homeless. That one could have just been a fight about space or food," explained Detective Fuller.

"Let's get a list of residents who have been kicked out of their homes by the gentrification. Parker, you and Reid check the shelters."

"We need Parker here," Hotch said. "Prentiss, are you going with Reid?"

"Yeah, we're on it," Emily replied and stood up.

"Unless... Are you okay with that, Reid?" she asked him just to be sure.

"I'm fine with that."

The two grabbed their things and walked off.

"We should check to see if there are any mental hospitals in the area. Maybe it was someone who was recently released into the streets."

"Got it," Parker said and left the room.

~~

It didn't take long for Parker to read through the files. Only ten people have been released from a mental hospital in the last four weeks and 'only' three of them are now living on the streets. And none of them fit the profile.

"Parker?" Hotch addressed the young profiler.

They looked up from the last file and saw Hotch sitting down at the table.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Just asking," Hotch replied.

"They found a new body," he then changed the subject. "Morgan and Gideon are on their way to the car right now. If you hurry, you can go with them."

Parker nodded, stood up, grabbed their jacket and was about to leave when Hotch stopped them again.

He pushed the plate of cookies closer to Parker. They smiled, grabbed another cookie and then hurried to catch up with Derek and Gideon.

~~

"The victim's name is Travis Overby. That's his buddy over there," explained Detective Fuller. "He was working a jackhammer on a new trunk line. He said one second Travis was going down the sewer, the next second he was down at the bottom dead."

"From one second to the next."

The investigators stopped at the sewer cover where Travis climbed down, seconds before his death.

"Someone has to go down," said Gideon and looked at Derek.

"Oh, see, this ain't cool. Why me and not Parker?"

"Because my shoes are new," they replied jokingly. "But I can go down there if you don't want to."

"No, it's okay," he assured before turning to Gideon. "I'm putting in for hazard pay."

"Good luck with that."

It took a few moments for Derek to climb down and report what he could see down there.

"It's pretty clean for a sewer. Trash is pretty much cleared away. Yeah, I got a dirty blanket and something else rolled up in the corner. It's obvious he made himself a place to sleep, but he cleared it all away. It looks a lot like the last place he was in."

"New temporary home," Gideon murmured.

"Hey, guys, it looks like the jackhammer must have knocked some of the ceiling loose. It fell down all around him. I'd be pretty scared, too."

"It's about survival. He carved out a place of his own. Saw a threat. He attacked."

"That's got to be why the victims were so random," said Derek when he was back on the surface.

"He didn't have a relationship with them. They just happened to be intruding on his home."

“We need to see the other crime scenes,” Gideon explained to Detective Fuller.

"Sure. Let's go."

"You all right?" the older profiler asked Derek as he dusted himself off his clothes.

"Yeah. You owe me."

~~

It was already dark when Hotch contacted Gideon.

"He left a distress signal on the roof of one of the buildings."

"The quick strikes are consistent with trained military tactics."

"He must have served in a place that looked or sounded like this ward," said Emily.

"Well, we were right about him being homeless in a sense. Wherever he is in his mental state, he's certainly not at home."

"He may not even be aware he's killing."

"Now, how's that?" asked Detective Fuller 

"When soldiers suffered from anxiety, depression, and flashbacks in World War I, it was called shell shock. In World War II, battle fatigue. Now we refer to it as PTSD. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. War-related. A side effect of which is slipping into dissociative states."

"The mind divorces itself from reality so it can cope with the trauma."

"He's reliving a memory. He's trapped in his head, in some war zone."

"Hiding and defending himself from the enemy."

"Okay, so how do we find a man who's trapped inside his head?" JJ wanted to know.

"He's got a wedding ring. Someone's missing him."

The UnSub wanted to attack someone again, but the man's daughter was there. He Unsub had asked her why she was crying and then she recognized the wedding ring.

"Good. I'm on the way in with Parker and Detective Fuller. Morgan has one last crime scene to check," said Gideon and hung up.

It was a short drive back to the police station.

Parker went straight to the coffee machine to -surprise- make themself some coffee. They were just pouring way too much sugar into the cup when Emily stopped next to them, looked at Parker a little unsettled.

"Hey Emily, what's up?" Parker asked.

The black-haired woman hesitated for a moment.

"Um, do you have a moment? I need to talk to you for a second."

~~

JJ looked at the missing person reports and now the team spoke to Dana Woodridge and Max Weston. Dana's husband Roy disappeared Tuesday and Max was Roy's best friend.

"He was on his way home from work. He called before he left the office and said we needed to talk when he got home. He sounded upset. That was the last I heard from him," reported Mrs. Woodridge.

"What was he upset about?", Emily wanted to know.

"He didn't say."

"Dana called me that night when Roy didn't show up. So, the next morning we filed a missing persons report," Mr. Weston added.

"Mrs. Woodridge, where does your husband work?"

"He's a consultant at a security firm downtown."

"Did your husband ever serve in combat?" asked Gideon.

"Excuse me?" said Mr. Weston.

"Is he a war veteran?"

"Yeah, we both are. We were in Special Ops," Mr. Weston replied. "75th Ranger Regiment. Bravo Company, Third Battalion. But Roy, he retired shortly after things went bad in Mogadishu."

"That was back in 1993," Spencer said. "Let me ask you this, does he display any sort of behavioral ticks? Certain everyday things that make him jumpy or startled?"

"Why?"

"Does he?"

"Is this going to help find him?", the woman wanted to know.

"Mrs. Woodridge, please. We need to know everything we can about your husband."

"We all had a hard time over there," Mr. Weston began. "You... You bring some things home with you."

"Like what?" Parker asked.

"He has a hard time with loud noises," replied Mrs. Woodridge. "He can't be in crowds. He has nightmares and wakes up in cold sweats. The smells are the worst. He… If he smells something burning, like a barbeque or gas or fire, he gets sick. It really only got bad about a year ago."

"What happened to him in Somalia?"

"Nothing," said Mr. Weston. "Combat happened."

"What does that mean?"

Mr. Weston did not answer the question and excused himself to get a glass of water. Gideon followed him so the two could speak in private.

~~

The team gathered back in the briefing room while JJ attended to Mrs. Woodridge.

The conversation between Gideon and Mr. Weston didn't last long, but it seemed to have been very informative.

"We need to put a SWAT team together. Plan a grid search to go building," Gideon explained as he joined the others in the room.

"He's relieving the war, isn't he?"

"A specific incident in which he killed a child."

"Guys," Spencer said. "The SWAT team's gonna have guns, right? What happens if he tries to fight them?"

~~

"Reid, what are you working on?" asked Hotch.

Spencer stood at the blackboard when Hotch and Parker walked back into the room.

"Three days ago police shut down the freeway at 5:00 p.m. for 10 minutes. Cars were stalled and Roy must have tried to exit onto a surface street. Sadly, he ended up in an unfamiliar area with a flat tire. He was changing that tire when an eight-storey building on Market imploded five blocks away. He heard the explosion and the ground rattled like a mortar bomb had landed nearby. This explosion is what triggered his dissociation. Since then, he's been stuck in that state. Running when he needed to, sleeping when he could, camouflaging himself into his surroundings and hiding from his perceived enemies."

"So, he’s reliving the worst moment of his life," Parker summarized. "He's got to be terrified."

"Yeah."

Hotch left the meeting room. Parker wanted to follow him, but then their phone rang and they stopped and put it on speaker.

"Penny, what do you have for us"

"Why isn’t Derek answering his phone?", the technical analyst wanted to know straight away.

"Yeah, he's probably stuck underground somewhere," said Parker.

"Underground?"

"I'll explain later," Spencer explained.

"Okay, so I finally got through all those recent police reports he asked me to check, which by the way as no hopscotch through the park because that precinct you're at is kind of tragically behind in their paperwork," reported Garcia.

"Yeah, they're undermanned."

"Oh, jeez, really? I can't imagine what that feels like. Oh, no, wait. Yes, I can, because–"

"Garcia, do you have anything?" Spencer interrupted her.

Parker gave him a warning look, which he simply ignored.

"Well, he told me to look for anything unusual, and it's all usual. Minor break-ins, apartment burglaries, televisions, stereos, car thefts, and smash-and-grabs. Common stuff in the world of burglaring."

"Nothing a guy lost in the streets might use for survival?" Parker asked.

"No. Nothing reported. Like... Like I said, it's all petty. There's some vandalism at construction sites. Communications radio missing from one of them."

"Wait, did you just say radio?"

"Yeah–"

Spencer didn't need to hear anything else and he ran out of the room.

"– A construction foreman reported that one of their trucks had been broken into and a handheld radio was stolen. Yesterday. 12 hours ago. Is that what you're looking for?"

"Yeah, thanks Penny," Parker ended the call and hung up.

~~~~

"We were right. He had a nest of sorts right near every murder scene," reported Derek when he had also looked at the last crime scene.

"There was a castle of a two-way radio from a construction site recently," said Parker.

"That could be Roy. We only used UHF back then," explained Mr. Weston.

"He's looking for help."

"And he'll keep trying to contact Operations Command."

"Detective, can we get a dozen UHF radios set up in this room and each of them tuned to each of the different preset channel frequencies?" Hotch asked.

"Right away."

"Wait a minute," Mr. Weston stopped him. "When he calls, we need to be very careful with the communication. Because we set up specific responses to contact OpCom so we could avoid hostile interception and to establish no danger signals. And we had specific names to identify our squad to the operator. "

"Do you remember the language you set up?"

"Yeah, I couldn't forget it. Roy and I wrote it. The call out was, "This is John Doe looking for Mark Rypien." Rypien was our hero at the time. Number 11, the quarterback for the Redskins in 1993 ."

"Now we know where he is in his head. If he calls in, we'll be on the other end when he does."

"What if he doesn't call? What if he just kills someone else?" Detective Fuller wanted to know.

"Well, we'll deal with that if it happens."

"Kind of easy for you to say.

"Now, this guy may be messed up, but that doesn't change the fact that he has killed four innocent people. Now, why don't we just do the grid search?"

"If you set up a grid search and he confronts one of your men, you'll be planning a funeral," replied Mr Weston.

"I can guarantee you we're right about his profile. This man wants to get rescued. All I'm asking is that you just give us a chance to bring him in."

~~

Roy Woodridge actually tried to reach the other soldiers on the radio. Luckily, Mr. Weston was able to help locate Roy, but unfortunately that didn't go as planned.

Spencer got the call half an hour after the others left. Parker didn't find out what happened until later, but they were really hoping to help Mr. Woodridge.

"If there must be trouble, let it be in my day, so that my child may have peace."

Thomas Paine.

Finally home," Spencer murmured as the two entered the hallway. "At least we get a few hours of sleep and–"

"What was that?" Parker wanted to know.

They carelessly threw their bag into the corner and crossed their arms over their chests.

"What do you think?"

"Your behavior in the last few days. You've been acting like a complete idiot. What was that about?"

Spencer hung up his jacket and then turned back to Parker.

"I do not know what you mean."

He didn't know - what was wrong with him? Parker wondered.

They hated to admit it, but in that moment, well, the last few days, they didn't recognize Spencer.

"Of course not," scoffed Parker. "Was the way you talked to the woman in the shelter okay? No. You scared her."

Spencer rolled his eyes.

He didn't understand why Parker was overreacting like that. He was just trying to help solve the case, so what was the problem?

"Emily told you."

"Of course she told me. She's worried. I'm worried too-"

Parker paused for a moment. They had to think carefully about what they said now.

"Spencer, I love you and you know I would do anything for you... But I can't help you if you act like a FUCKING ASSHOLE."

"You're mad."

"Of COURSE I'm mad. But that's not the point. The point is that we want to help you-"

"Yeah, well, maybe I don't want your help."

That's it. Spencer had crossed a line.

"You know what? I'm done."

"What?"

"I. AM. DONE!"

Parker walked past him towards the bedroom without another word.

The young genius hesitated at first, but then followed them. He asked several times what they were up to, but Parker remained silent.

Spencer had barely entered the bedroom when Parker handed him his pillow and blanket and pushed him back into the hallway.

"You sleep on the couch for now. I don't want to see you right now."

Then Parker slammed the door in Spencer's face.