--

And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said;
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

--

The doors of the elevator slid open, allowing its lone occupant to exit swiftly, adjusting his hold on the brown paper bag in his arms as he made his way through the glass doors into the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit.

Derek Morgan glanced up from his paperwork and immediately wished he hadn't as fellow FBI profiler, Spencer Reid, entered the bullpen, a large paper bag in his hands and a Santa hat atop his head. Morgan sighed, shaking his head in a disbelieving fashion as his friend spotted him.

"You do know you're a federal agent, right?"

Spencer smiled as he placed a candy cane on his partner's desk.

"Happy holidays to you, too, Morgan."

Morgan picked up the candy cane, eyeing it with some amount of distrust.

"No offense, kid, but I think you're a little tall for the elf gig."

"Are those candy canes?" JJ asked, walking down the steps from her office, a smile on her face as she studied the package in Reid's hands.

Reid speedily fished another treat from the bag, holding it out for the media liaison. JJ accepted the candy cane gratefully, her smile growing. "Thank you, Spence." She grinned. "Nice Santa hat."

The young genius' hand raised self-consciously to the red and white cap on his head as Morgan smirked.

"Did you know most people contribute the modern image of Santa Claus to the Coca-Cola Company and their portrayal of him in a 1931 ad campaign?" Spencer remarked, his grip on the paper bag tightening as his voice squeaked with enthusiasm. "But the artist, Haddon Sundblom, actually based it on a pre-existing image of St. Nicholas set down over the previous century by a multitude of writers and artists."

JJ chuckled, by now quite used to the young profiler's impromptu lectures.

"I take it you're excited for Christmas?" she queried, leaning against Spencer's desk as she unwrapped the holiday treat.

Reid nodded, the Santa hat slipping forward on his head.

"Christmas was always my mom's favorite time of year. She used to say that you could feel a change in the air that just made the world seem happier. I guess I adopted the same point of view."

Morgan shook his head.

"Christmas is for kids who don't know any better. Now, I know you're too old to believe in Santa Claus, Reid."

"You're never too old for such a thing, Derek Morgan," Penelope Garcia reproached as she and Gideon neared the trio. Her eyes immediately landed on the bag in Spencer's hands and narrowed jokingly. "Dr. Reid, are those candy canes? You know better than to withhold tribute from your computer goddess."

"Sorry." Reid's face flushed as he quickly extracted a treat for the blonde-haired tech. He held a second one out to Gideon who politely refused.

"Oh, you know I could never stay mad at that face," Garcia grinned, slowly unwrapping her candy cane. "Now, what's all this about Santa Claus?"

Morgan smirked, and gestured towards Spencer. "I was just explaining to the genius here that we're all a little old for the whole 'Christmas magic' thing. I mean, it's all fine and good for kids, but eventually you realize it's just a story."

"How can you not enjoy Christmas?" Reid asked, frowning. "It's the time of year when anything's possible."

"You don't really strike me as the religious type, Reid," Morgan commented.

"I may not celebrate Christmas in the religious sense," the younger profiler countered, "but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy the spirit of it. I don't believe in a magical man who goes around leaving presents under trees, either, but I do believe that something about Christmas brings out the best in people."

Morgan gave a small laugh. "Don't be getting all 'real meaning of Christmas' on us, Linus. I'm just saying most people grow out of all of that."

"I think it's sweet," JJ defended, pretending not to notice the small blush on Spencer's face at her words. "There's nothing wrong with believing in the spirit of the season."

Derek eyed her with a small air of incredulity, turning his gaze to the rest of the group. "You guys can't tell me you actually believe in all of that 'holiday special' stuff."

Gideon shrugged, his eyes half-lidded. "Everyone has their own beliefs and traditions about the season, religious or not. For me, Christmas is a fireplace, a warm cup of cocoa, and a good friend."

JJ nodded. "Yeah, my aunt always said that everyone should be free to celebrate the season in their own way." She smirked. "Of course, that didn't stop her from dragging me to midnight mass every Christmas Eve.

Morgan's pleading eyes landed on his last potential ally. "Baby Girl, you too?"

"Afraid so, my Chocolate Grinch." Penelope's cheeky grin held only a glimmer of an apology as she waved her candy cane about like a wand. "The holidays have become overly commercialized, but that doesn't mean there isn't still good in the air."

Agent Morgan heaved a sigh, "Believing in Christmas magic is like believing in the Tooth Fairy - sooner or later, you realize it was all a lie your parents told you."

The media liaison smiled jokingly.

"Jeez, lighten up, Morgan. How do you spend your Christmas - knocking down snowmen and trashing lights displays?"

The team's chuckles died off as Hotch approached, the grim look on his face squelching all feelings of merriment.

"I need to see all of you in the conference room in two minutes."

--

"Groverton, Pennsylvania. Two boys, Dillon Mackelray and Jason Daley, ages six and eight, kidnapped within the last six weeks."

Hotch pressed a button on the remote, and the two children appeared onscreen. He pressed another button, and two more photos appeared, this time of their corpses lying in bloodstained snow. "Their bodies were found one week after each abduction, in a public park near the middle of the city. They'd been dead less than three hours. No signs of sexual assault. Cause of death was exsanguination."

"A week?" Reid frowned, looking up from his case file. "That's unusual. Most child abduction murders occur within the first twenty-four hours."

Morgan nodded, turning to Hotch. "If there's no sexual assault, what was the unsub doing with them all that time?"

"There were indications of minor physical abuse," Hotch replied. "And both bodies showed signs of exposure prior to death. Marks on their wrists indicate that they were restrained."

He clicked the button and the photos vanished, a new one taking their place, portraying a smiling sandy-haired youth.

"A third boy, Tyler Fibbs, age 7, went missing from a Groverton shopping mall at nine o'clock this morning local time."

"So, assuming it's the same unsub, we've got seven days to find him," JJ commented, her face grim as she perused the details of the file.

There was a short moment of silence, each of them glancing at each other as they counted the days. They had only until Christmas Eve to find Tyler Fibbs alive.

Hotch paused, taking a moment to look at each of them in turn, ensuring he had their full attention.

"I know that we're supposed to have Christmas off this year, but this case is the priority. I want each of you giving this your full attention. It's going to be a rough one." He nodded, an air of finality about him as he began to gather his files. "Wheels up in thirty minutes."

--

The atmosphere on the plane was muted, each of them absorbed in the details of the case files before them. Gideon glanced up at Hotch, who sat across from him wearing a troubled expression upon his face as he stared at the photos of the victims.

"You spending Christmas with Haley's folks?" He questioned, momentarily drawing Aaron's thought away from the brutal images.

Hotch looked up, temporarily confused, before shaking his head.

"Haley's parents are in Florida this year, so Christmas is at our house. Her sister is coming on Friday, and Sean's going to spend the day with us. Haley's been going crazy with preparations - the house is a disaster zone. I'm actually a bit relieved not to be there at the moment."

It was a lie, and they both knew it – there was no place Hotch would rather be than amidst all that chaos, decorating a Christmas tree with his family – but Gideon simply nodded, his eyes returning to the reports in his hands.

"All three of the boys were abducted from public places," Morgan commented, taking a sip of his coffee as he sat on the armrest of one of the chairs. "Each of them was with one or more family members, but there were no witnesses. Whatever the unsub is doing to lure them, he's doing it quietly."

Reid shrugged from his seat across the aisle.

"It's the holiday shopping season. No one's going to notice a boy wandering around by himself or with an adult."

JJ sifted through the papers in front of her, her tone calm and professional.

"There's been a lot of media attention with the first two murders. It won’t be long before the press gets a hold of the third kidnapping."

--

"I only turned my back for a second, and he was gone."

Moira Fibbs bit her lip, attempting to control the emotion in her voice.

Reid and Morgan sat in the Fibbs' living room across from the worried parents. Cody, the couple's younger son, was on the floor nearby, playing quietly with his Tonka Trucks, seemingly oblivious to his parents' dismay. The room was already brightly decorated for the holidays. Strings of red and silver garland lined the papered walls and a large pine tree sat in the corner, swathed entirely in handmade ornaments, most of which appeared to be the work of the two sons.

"When did you first notice Tyler was missing?" Morgan questioned, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees.

"I got to the cash register and he wasn't next to me," Mrs. Fibbs' eyes filled with unshed tears as she recounted the experience. "I- I thought he'd stopped to look at the toys...But I couldn't see him anywhere. I called his name--"

She stopped, her head falling as she struggled not to cry. Her husband put his hand on hers, offering her a comforting expression before turning his gaze to the profilers.

"The news said something about other boys," he stated. "Do you think the man who has Tyler is the same one who took those other kids?"

Morgan and Reid shared a brief uncomfortable glance, neither wanting to worry the parents further.

"It's possible," Derek conceded. "The other kidnappings were similar and Tyler does fit the description."

Jeff's grip on his wife's hand intensified as the two parents exchanged grief struck expressions. Cody looked up at his parents, confusion evident on his young face as he gripped his toy truck to his chest.

"When's Tyler coming home?"

This time, Mrs. Fibbs couldn't hold back the rush of tears, her hands covering her mouth in an attempt to stifle her strangled sobs. Jeff squeezed her hand one last time before rushing to pick Cody up.

"Hey, Sport, why don't we let Mommy finish talking to these nice men? We'll go play with the trucks in your room."

The pair disappeared from sight and the profilers returned their attention to the weeping mother. Over her shoulder, Spencer spotted a line of stockings hanging over the nearby fireplace. Tyler's name was stitched neatly on a green and red one, in between his brother and father's. A small lump formed in the young genius' throat as he forced himself to look away, Moira Fibbs' breath hitching once more.

Compassion filled Morgan's eyes as he reluctantly attempted to restart the conversation.

"Mrs. Fibbs, I know this is difficult, but can you remember seeing anyone strange hanging around you? Maybe someone who was paying special attention to Tyler?"

She shook her head; her tears subsided for the moment.

"No, no one." She locked eyes with Reid, her expression full of confusion and pain. "Who would do this to a little boy? What kind of person does something like this?"

Spencer was at a loss for words, but was thankfully saved from responding.

"Mrs. Fibbs, I promise you, we're going to do everything in our power to find Tyler."

Moira nodded at Morgan's soft but determined words, her lips set in a firm line.

A few minutes later, the pair of profilers found themselves walking down the front steps of the house, each of them braced against the biting winter cold. They made their way to the SUV, Reid wrapping his arms more tightly around himself as the wind intensified. Morgan stalked angrily towards the rental, tearing the door open, stopping only briefly to glance up at his partner.

"Still think Christmas brings out the best in people?" He questioned, his fury at the injustice of the crime radiating from him in droves. Spencer had no reply, his eyes on the ground, and his thoughts still on the empty stocking. They got into the car, neither caring to say another word. The rest of the trip was made in silence, each man lost in a sea of his own reflections.

--

"What do we have so far?"

Hotch brushed into the room local police had given them to work out of the past two days, Reid and Morgan not far behind him. JJ looked up from the press reports she'd been reading to glance back at Gideon, who was studying a map of the abduction and dumpsites.

"We know he's not asking for a ransom," Morgan commented, sitting across the table from JJ as Reid silently made his way over to the map without looking at anyone. "That implies that there's some sort of personal reason for the kidnappings."

"He has a victim type," Gideon mused, his arms folded across his chest. "He takes boys with blonde hair and brown eyes, six to eight years old, who're with their families."

Officer Martin frowned, eyeing the profilers. "That mean something?"

Hotch glanced at him.

"If we know what type of victim he looks for, it may give us a clue as to why he's kidnapping them in the first place."

"What's this district right here?" Reid interrupted, a curious expression on his face as he pointed to an area on the map. The officer moved closer, following the profiler's gaze to a region of downtown Groverton.

"An old commercial development," he replied. "The city bought up all of the business down there a year ago. There were plans to build a new shopping center, but negotiations fell through. Most of the buildings are abandoned now."

"Are we certain the latest kidnapping is connected?" JJ questioned, bringing things back on track.

Gideon turned from the map to glance at her. "Tyler Fibbs fits the victim profile. He was taken in a similar fashion. The odds of two kidnappers with nearly identical M.O.’s operating simultaneously in a town this size?" He shrugged, Reid giving a sign of agreement beside him.

Hotch nodded. "JJ - you help Reid with victimology. Morgan - call Garcia and see if she's gotten anything from the mall surveillance. Gideon and I will go talk to Jason Daley's family."

--

"34th Street - what's your miracle?"

Morgan allowed himself a small chuckle as he adjusted his grip on the phone.

"Princess, you know you're a miracle all on your own. Did you get anything off of the surveillance footage?"

He could hear her fingers clicking rapidly across the keyboard as she replied.

"I'm sending you the video right now. It looks like our scumbag approached Tyler when his mom's back was turned."

Derek turned to his laptop, which had begun playing the footage, the image of a busy department store appearing onscreen. He could see the boy lagging behind his mother in the crowd, wide-eyed at all of the busy excitement around him. A man in a dark colored jacket walked up to him, an action figure in his hand, and pointed to something off-screen. He handed Tyler the toy and guided him off into the crowd. The entire interaction took less than thirty seconds.

"What happened next?" He prompted the tech-goddess.

"He led our boy to the nearest parking lot exit. There aren't any cameras outside of the building, so no lucky shots of a vehicle. And he kept his head down the whole time, so I couldn't get a clear shot of his face, but I did manage to get a partial grab just as he was leaving."

A blurry new image filled the screen, depicting the unsub with his head turned back over his shoulder in the direction of Tyler's mother as he led the boy away. Morgan sighed, rubbing a hand across his eyes tiredly. It was an obstructed picture, not enough for a good identification, but they'd done more with less.

"Alright, Baby Girl. Stay beautiful."

"As if there's any doubt."

--

The town was bustling with people, colorful decorations coating every store window and streetlight as they drove along the snowy road. Morgan sighed as he stared out the window of the SUV, watching as a middle-aged couple bogged down with shopping bags greeted a Salvation Army Santa. It never failed to amaze him how life could continue on so normally during their cases. Young boys were being murdered, and the town hadn't changed a bit. Even after JJ's press briefing the previous day, calling for anyone with leads to come forward, the atmosphere of the medium-sized city had remained infused with holiday cheer. Children were running up and down the sidewalk, lobbing snowballs at each other, not a care in the world. How could they all act as if nothing was happening? How could they just ignore it?

That’s the holiday spirit at work, Morgan mused bitterly. Act like everything’s fine, no matter how messed-up the world really is.

It had never sat right with him how people treated the holiday like a fix-all. In his mind, it was naïve to act like one day could make the world a better place. Bad guys didn’t stop being bad just because people hung lights on their houses.

Derek's thoughts were interrupted as Gideon turned the car into a busy parking spot. The two profilers got out, making their way through the crowd of people. The park where the first abduction had taken place was near the middle of the city, and was filled with activity. A small ice rink had been set up on one end, children and couples gliding cheerfully across the shiny surface. Christmas light displays were set up throughout the area, unlit during the day. On the other side of the park were lines of horse-drawn carriages, waiting patiently for customers.

Jason led the way towards the scene of the abduction. Dillon Mackelray had been visiting the park with his parents six weeks ago when he was taken. According to the boy's mother, Dillon had shown an interest in the horses, and had gone for a closer look. His parents had been in discussions with a carriage driver about taking a tour of the city's decorations when Dillon's father had noticed he was missing.

Checking the file in his hand once more, Gideon led Morgan towards the furthest buggy to the right. The writing on the side of the carriage read 'Wilcox Horse & Buggy' - the buggy the Mackelray's had been soliciting. A stout man in a black winter jacket and top hat was checking the tacking on the gray mare when they approached.

"Excuse me, I'm Agent Gideon, this is Agent Morgan - we're with the FBI. Is this your carriage?"

The man turned, frowning. "Yeah, it's mine."

"You're Edward Ramsey?" Gideon questioned, consulting his file again. "You were working here the morning of November thirteenth?"

"Call me Ed," the man replied. "And if this is about that kid that went missing a couple weeks ago, I already talked to the police."

Derek met his gaze. "Do you remember seeing a man hanging around that day? Anyone that seemed to be paying a lot of attention to the kids here? Maybe standing around the carriages?"

Ramsey shrugged. "There're lots of people hanging around here. They're all skating and petting the pretty horses. It's a busy season."

Morgan held out the blurry printout Garcia had sent them.

"He look familiar to you?"

Ed took the picture from the agent, inspecting it briefly.

"Yeah, that's Lenny Hansen," he replied, handing the photo back.

Gideon and Morgan exchanged a glance.

"You know him?" Gideon pressed.

"Sure - he does odd-jobs around the city. Fixes the carriages for extra money. ‘Lotta breakdowns during this season, with the snow and all. He takes 'em and patches them up right again. Pretty cheap, too. Used to be a carpenter."

Morgan was already on the phone with Garcia, turning away from the other two as he gave her the name to run. Gideon turned his attention back to Ed.

"Do you happen to know where Lenny is right now?"

"Well, if he's not somewhere around here, he's at home," the carriage driver replied, turning back to his horse. "Between you and me, the guy doesn't have a whole lot going on in his life."

--

The police car pulled up behind their SUV just as Hotch was stepping out of it, Reid following suit on the other side. The driveway was long and winding, the house surrounded by a sparse forest of trees, neatly sprinkled with freshly fallen snow. Further up the driveway, a man in a red winter coat was loading firewood into the back of a pickup truck. He turned upon their approach, still some feet away as the police officers exited the patrol car behind them. Hotch stepped forward.

"Leonard Hansen?"

The man didn't wait for Aaron to pull out his badge - an instant later he was running towards the woods next to his house, Hotch in quick pursuit.

The inch of crunching snow beneath their feet did little to impede either man, merely accentuating their rapid footsteps as they raced through the cold winter afternoon. Hotch could hear Officer Martin not far behind him, while Reid and Officer Dubois brought up the rear, the latter radioing for backup as he followed.

Hansen knew the territory well, but Hotch was a fast and determined runner. He kept pace with him easily, darting around the occasional tree or snowdrift with practiced ease. They were nearing a rocky hill, and Aaron wondered whether there was a plan in mind or if this was simply panic running. The suspect began to climb, his pace slowing as he was forced to find footholds in the stony escarpment. Hotch reached the bottom, hesitating for only an instant before racing up the snow-covered hill. His foot slipped on an icy stone, causing him to lose his balance, but he quickly recovered, his hands groping in front of him as precaution.

Hansen was only a foot or two ahead of him now, having nearly reached the top of the mount. Turning quickly on heel to gauge the progress of his pursuers, Lenny lost his footing on an ice-coated rock. Hotch watched as he struggled for a moment to regain his balance before crying out as he vanished over the side. Mere seconds behind him, Aaron reached the top, ensuring he had a steady footing before peering over the edge.

Lenny Hansen was spread-eagled at the base of the hill some feet below, his head caved in from bashing against the rocks as he fell. Hotch could do little more than stare at the sight as Officer Martin came up next to him. After everything they'd gone through the past four days, their one lead to finding Tyler was gone.

Hotch turned and began making his way back down as Officer Martin radioed the status of their suspect. Reid and Officer Dubois were some feet away, their running slowing to a confused stop at his actions. Aaron numbly trekked past them, walking back in the direction of the house, ignoring Reid's inquiries as to what had happened as sirens wailed in the distance.

To be continued.

"How do we even know if he was the right guy?" JJ asked, her eyes sweeping the small kitchen the team was inspecting. "Do we have any proof besides the carriage driver's statement?"

"For right now, we have to assume that he was," Gideon replied, fingering through Hansen's day planner. "We have to exhaust every lead; our victim might not have very long."

Hotch stiffened slightly. The house and surrounding woods had been searched from top to bottom, but there had been no sign of Tyler Fibbs. The previous victims had shown signs of exposure, and with Hansen dead there was no way to be sure Tyler had access to a viable food source. Every second was precious.

Reid stood near the kitchen table, sifting through papers. "He certainly wasn't very organized. It'll take hours to go through all of this."

"Somewhere in here is a clue as to where he was keeping them." Hotch stated as he inspected a nearby bookshelf. "We just have to get inside his head."

Officer Martin stepped into the room. "CSU just found a pair of knives in the garage. They're clean, but we found some blood on the rags they were wrapped in. I just sent it to be processed."

JJ glanced up at the officer, moving to help Reid sift through the papers. "Good. With any luck, it'll match one of the first two victims."

She glanced sideways at Spencer, whose face had darkened. He ignored her questioning look and picked up another pile of papers, rapidly reading through them.

"Garcia just sent over the bio on Leonard Hansen," Morgan informed them, earning the attention of the profilers. "He used to run a carpentry shop downtown. It went under about a year ago. His wife, Tanya, filed for divorce three months later. It was finalized at the beginning of November. Get this - the couple also has a son - seven years old - named Joseph. The judge asked Joseph who he'd prefer to live with, and he chose the mother."

Hotch frowned, his eyes on something behind Morgan. He walked towards the filing cabinet that lay there, picking up the framed photograph that sat atop it, inspecting it for a moment. Turning back to the curious team, he held the picture up for them to see.

"Look familiar?"

The photo showed Lenny standing next to a young, sandy-haired boy, the pair of them standing in front of a run-down stretch of buildings. Lenny was smiling; the boy was not.

Hotch pulled the back of the frame off, reading the caption scribbled on the backside of the photo paper. "'Leonard and Joey, 2005.'"

"So he was kidnapping kids that looked like his son?" There was more than a hint of disgust in JJ's voice as she eyed the photograph. Beside her, Reid's grip on the papers in his hands intensified.

Gideon sighed tiredly, picking up an address book. "Well, we know why he did it. We just have to figure out where he did it."

--

The mood in the small workroom at the police station was gloomy. The blood on the rags had been a match to Jason Daley - the second victim. Now absolutely certain that Leonard Hansen was their unsub, they'd intensified their efforts. They had carted most of Hansen's papers and pictures back to the station the previous day, still searching for a clue as to where he'd kept his victims. The stables he'd used to repair carriages had been cleared, as had a storage unit rented in his name. Tyler Fibbs had been missing for six days, and they had hit a dead end.

"Just got off the horn with the ex-wife," Gideon informed them sullenly as he entered the room and took a seat next to Hotch. "Aside from some colorful comments about her ex-husband's business skills, she had nothing useful. She said she hasn't even talked to Hansen in over a month. He never showed up to take Joey on his last visitation weekend."

The other profilers resumed their reading, each of them despondently absorbing the information. The case had been one frustrating disappointment after another. Every time they thought they were getting somewhere, there was another setback. With Christmas only a day away, and the thought of not being able to save Tyler Fibbs looming over each of their heads, the misery in the room was palpable.

Morgan sighed angrily, breaking the renewed silence.

"This is ridiculous. We've got no leads, and Tyler could be anywhere."

JJ looked up from the file she was reviewing, a pitifully hopeful expression on her face.

"We can still find him, though, right? I mean - there's still a chance?" There was a hint of desperation in her voice as she searched her team for reassurance.

In the corner of the room, Reid scoffed in a decidedly uncharacteristic way.

"Yeah, we'll definitely find him. We'll get him back to his family, he'll be perfectly fine, and nothing bad will happen to any of them ever again."

Everyone looked up at his sarcastic and bitter tone, so out-of-character for their youngest profiler. Reid's eyes remained glued to the pages before him, a dark expression on his face; completely oblivious to the attention he'd drawn from his teammates. JJ, for her part, looked stung, confusion and pain evident in her crystal blue eyes.

Gideon's face was full of concern as he watched the genius turn another page. The case was hitting them all, but none more so than Spencer. His mood had been growing steadily worse over the course of the week. He'd been more brooding and depressed with each piece of bad news they'd received, so much so that even Morgan was regretting his earlier words to the young profiler. Gideon noted with disappointment that the genius had lost the spark of joy and faith he'd displayed so readily only six days before. Every member of the team had cases that affected them adversely, but this one seemed to shake Reid's naïveté to the core.

Hotch carefully observed the youngest profiler, coming to a decision. He cleared his throat, his voice distinctly casual.

"Reid, why don't you go down the street and get some coffee for everyone? We're going to be at this all night," the unit chief commented, ignoring the way the rest of the team glanced up once more, all anxious to see how the genius would react to being sent out.

Spencer closed the file he'd been reading, making no eye contact as he stood silently and walked to the door, grabbing his coat on the way. Four pairs of eyes followed him through the glass as he made his way to the front of the precinct and disappeared from sight.

--

Reid pushed the café door open with his free hand, absentmindedly balancing the tray of coffees with his other one as he stepped out into the night once more. The sidewalks were mostly shoveled, and in full use, as last-minute shoppers tried their hardest to find open stores.

The precinct was a ways to his right, but Reid felt himself drawn in the opposite direction, his eyes glued to the large and brightly lit Christmas tree in the center of the square. Numbly, he walked towards it, his mind on the bittersweet decorations that had filled the Fibbs’ home. He felt as if he was seeing the world for the first time, all of the town's former cheeriness having been ripped away. Nearby, a young girl in an expensive dress coat whined as her mother dragged her away from an overpriced toy store’s window; an elderly man, poorly dressed for the weather, sat near the entrance of an alleyway, a hat before him, as countless shoppers passed him by without so much as a glance; a group of teenage boys harassed a Salvation Army Santa, jeering and throwing cigarette butts in his collection pot. Was this the goodness of people that Christmas brought?

The tree shone brightly through it all, mocking him as he drew nearer. He stood at the base, staring up at the once-comforting image, an inexplicable mixture of anger and sadness filling him. Tyler Fibbs' family was going to celebrate Christmas without their son, and it wasn't fair. They would wake up Christmas morning to the sight of that empty stocking, haunted by the knowledge that their seven-year-old was scared and alone, if he was even still alive. What had the boy done to deserve that? He should be at home, anxiously counting down the hours until Santa's arrival, not slowly dying in some unknown locale.

Christmas had always been special to Spencer. No matter how difficult some aspects of his youth had been, Christmas had granted him the freedom to feel like a normal child. Even after his father left, Reid's mother had strived to make it as enjoyable as she could. In her lucid moments, she had read him stories next to their small plastic tree, her voice unwavering as he drifted to sleep beneath its branches, visions of snowy wonderlands dancing before his eyelids. At Christmas, it had always seemed like anything was possible.

But Morgan was right - the world was still full of the same evil they dealt with day in and day out, no matter how much snow lay on the ground. How could there be peace on earth when Tyler was out there somewhere, starving to death? How could Reid believe in the goodness of people when men like Hansen stole innocent children away from their families?

"Do you have the time?"

Reid jumped, whirling around to face the man next to him. He had been so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn't seen him approach.

"Uh...yeah," he stumbled, juggling the tray of coffees as he glanced down to read his watch in the glimmer of the Christmas lights. "It's 7:13."

"Thanks," the man smiled. "I love this time of year, don't you?"

Reid made a noncommittal noise, glancing back in the direction of the police station. How long had he been gone?

"Seeing all of the old buildings covered in snow; all the decorations everywhere," the dark-haired man continued, his eyes boring into Spencer. "Everything just seems better, doesn't it?"

"Sure," Reid replied hesitantly, frowning in confusion at the man's peculiar forwardness.

The man smiled, rubbing his gloved hands together for warmth. "I mean, when you think of all the people without jobs or families, it really makes you appreciate what you have. You know?"

Reid's eyes widened as something inside his brain clicked. His mouth moved, forming and reforming the words as he thought, a sense of certainty falling upon him unlike any he'd ever experienced before. He began to walk again, the wheels in his head continuing to turn at lightning speed, all thoughts of the strange man forgotten.

"Merry Christmas!" The dark-haired man called out, unnoticed behind the departing genius as he disappeared into the crowd of pedestrians.

Spencer began to pick up speed, walking faster and faster, his thoughts everywhere but on his actions. A detached feeling of purpose filled him as walking became sprinting, the tray of coffees falling from his hands without a second thought as his pace quickened again into a run. Clumsily, he pulled his cell phone from the outer pocket of his coat, unwilling to slow for even a second as he hit the speed dial. The phone rang once, and then was answered.

"Hotchner."

Reid darted around a pair of women loaded down with shopping bags and presents.

"The commercial district." He panted, forgoing any preamble, the crisp winter air biting his lungs. "It makes sense."

"...Reid?" Hotch's confused reply went almost unheard by the young profiler over the sound of carolers singing on the sidewalk, a small crowd of people listening to them. Reid pushed his way through.

"The picture with his son, in front of a building downtown," he continued as he rounded a corner, narrowly avoiding a collision with a young couple as he skidded on an icy patch. "It was his old carpentry shop. All the buildings are abandoned now."

Hotch paused as he finally caught the meaning behind Reid's disjointed ramblings.

"Where are you?"

"Corner of King and Weeber."

"We'll be right there."

The call was disconnected just as Spencer ran out onto the crosswalk, hardly noticing as a car slammed on its breaks to avoid hitting him. He braced his hands on the vehicle's hood for an instant, regaining his balance, ignoring the angry driver's honking as he took off running once more.

He was nearing the abandoned district, the number of fellow pedestrians dwindling and being replaced by increasingly run-down buildings. His eyes scanned the streets for the building from the picture, his eidetic memory working overtime as he recalled the layout of the region from the city map. The lights shone less brightly there, no dazzling Christmas decorations or colorful shop fronts to guide his way down the street of decrepit buildings.

By the time he reached Cedar Street, his lungs felt like they were ready to burst. He coughed, his breath a fine mist before him, the strange sense of purpose keeping his pace steady. He rounded the block, relief flooding him as he spotted a familiar stretch of shops in bad repair. He ran across the street, squinting to read the worn signs in the dim light. Rushing towards the one that said 'Hansen Carpentry' above the boarded-up window, he forced the rickety door open.

The main floor of the shop was shrouded in darkness. Spencer felt his way forward, his eyes slowly adjusting to the absence of light as his pulse continued to race.

"Tyler?" He coughed again, his lungs still worn from his run in the cold winter air. "Tyler Fibbs?"

He strained to hear a reply, but none came. Feeling his way past the counter, he looked around again. "Tyler? If you can hear me, Tyler, please try to make some noise! Tyler?"

A faint rustling noise came from above him and Reid's heart skipped. He turned, spotting a staircase behind him. He jogged up the steps, a heavy door at the top halting his progress. Grabbing the handle, he unsuccessfully to open it.

"Tyler?" He pushed against the door.

The rustling noise was louder this time, and was accompanied by a small cough.

"Just hold on, Tyler. I'm going to get you out of there," Reid promised, using his shoulder as a battering ram. The door was giving bit by bit, the old wood groaning in protest. He shoved again, and this time stumbled forward as the door finally gave in. The room was bitter cold, a draft from the broken window on the far wall chilling the air. He spotted a dirty, blonde-haired boy in the corner of the room, staring up at him with scared eyes.

"Tyler," Reid panted, swallowing hard and walking towards him cautiously. "My name's Spencer. I'm here to help you. Are you hurt?"

The boy shook his head, another cough escaping his lungs. He was dressed only in a torn sweater and pants, a thick leather strap tying him to the floor. Reid pulled off his coat and was relieved to hear sirens drawing closer. He knelt next to a small pile of moldy bread scraps, wrapping the jacket around the boy.

"It's okay, Tyler," Reid comforted, gently checking him over for injuries. "We'll get you back to your family. It's over now."

The sirens wailed outside the building, and Spencer could hear voices shouting on the streets below. Help had arrived at last.

"We're up here!" He cried hoarsely, pulling the coat more tightly around Tyler's shoulders. "It's going to be alright, Tyler. It's okay now."

--

Hotch nodded, thanking the police officer before turning to join the rest of the BAU standing a bit of a distance from the ambulance where Mr. and Mrs. Fibbs were reuniting with their son. Moira was sobbing again, this time tears of overwhelming happiness as she held Tyler's hand.

"He's got mild hypothermia, a few cuts and bruises, and he's a little malnourished, but the paramedics think he'll be alright."

The other profilers smiled thankfully at Hotch for the update, glad to be done with it all.

"Thanks to Spence," JJ commented, beaming at the now-bashful genius shivering next to her. "How did you know where he was?"

Reid shrugged, the relieved smile never leaving his face. "I- I don't know. I was talking to this man- something he said about families and buildings. I just... knew."

The media liaison shook her head, still in mild disbelief. "It was really lucky. I was beginning to think we'd never catch a lead."

Spencer just nodded, his thoughts drifting to the strange encounter.

Morgan patted him on the shoulder, his grin somewhere between playful and proud. "Well, looks like you're the hero of the hour, man." He chuckled lightly. "I still can't believe you ran eleven blocks."

The ambulance started up, and Gideon gestured towards their rental cars.

"Let's get out of here, huh?"

--

The bullpen was almost empty by the time they got back to Quantico. Even Garcia had left for the night, assured that her services were no longer needed and eager to begin her Christmas festivities. Reid hurried ahead of the group, quickly making his way to his desk and opening his messenger bag, filling it with various papers and files and placing others in neat piles.

Morgan chuckled at his friend's behavior as Hotch and JJ headed up the stairs to their offices.

"Hey, Reid, what's the rush? Forget to mail your letter to Santa?"

Spencer ignored the teasing tone in Derek's voice as he stuffed a few more files in his desk drawer and began re-wrapping his scarf around his neck. He looked up at Morgan, a small smile on his face.

"The plane to Las Vegas leaves in an hour and a half," he said, buttoning his coat and pulling the strap of his messenger bag over his head. "If I hurry, I might still be able to make it."

Gideon smiled from the walkway as he closed the door to his office, proud of Reid for finding that childlike giddiness once more. He waved his goodbyes along with the others as the young genius made his way out the door. Hotch gave a rare smile as he rushed down the steps from his office, a bag thrown over his shoulder and a colorfully wrapped present in his hands.

"Have a good holiday, everyone. I'll see you all on Wednesday morning."

The rest of them wasted no time, gathering their belongings and heading off for a much-needed break.

--

Morgan turned off the lights in the kitchen, the last of the dishes dried and put back in their place. Sarah had turned in early, and Desiree had gone out to a Christmas party, leaving him with the task of cleaning up. He made his way to the family room where his mother sat, guided only by the dim light of the Christmas tree, which cast a multicolored glow on everything in sight. Fran Morgan cradled a warm cup of coffee, hardly noticing the entrance of her son as she stared out the window into the cold Chicago night.

Moving closer to perch on the armrest of her chair, he followed her captivated gaze. The snow had just begun to fall outside their window, but the Weather Network was predicting six inches by morning. The big fluffy flakes drifted softly to the ground, the lights from the street giving them an almost heavenly glow. Derek felt his mom's hand pat his knee, and he smiled, his eyes never leaving the sight.

He had to admit - it was pretty damn beautiful.

--

'...Once again, as in olden days, happy golden days of yore...'

"More cocoa?"

Doris smiled from her seat near the fireplace, her eyes following Gideon's movements about the cabin's kitchen.

"Please."

Gideon carefully picked up the steaming mugs of liquid, handing one to his companion before taking his seat next to her on the couch. The fire crackled as they softly clinked their cups, Doris sighing in contentment as she leaned back against him. Jason's fingers found the stereo remote, turning the volume up slightly before stretching his free arm across Doris' shoulders. The pair watched the flames roar, the sultry tones of Mel Torme luring them into a comfortable ease.

'...But 'till then, we'll have to muddle through somehow. So, have yourself a merry little Christmas now...'

--

Garcia pierced another kernel with the needle, smiling as it made its way down the string to join the others. Convinced that it was finally long enough, Penelope cut the needle free, tying a knot next to the last piece of popcorn. Standing, she made her way to the colorful tree, looping the finished product around its branches. Her work finally completed, she stood back to admire the technicoloured decorations. The star sat crookedly on the top, adding character to the pine monument.

The blonde-haired tech nestled down into her couch, pulling her laptop onto her lap, completely satisfied with the way things had turned out. She was due to volunteer at the soup kitchen in the morning, but for now the night was hers. She had her tree, her precious computer, and if she listened carefully, she could hear the sounds of carolers making their way through the snowy streets.

--

"Merry Christmas, you wonderful old Building and Loans! Merry Christmas, Mr. Potter!"

Jennifer Jareau blew lightly on her hot chocolate, pulling the warm blanket more tightly around her shoulders. Curled up on her couch, she smiled as George Bailey kissed the heads of his wife and children, the black and white classic flickering on the walls of her apartment. A small aluminum tree sat in the corner of the room, underneath which lay a carefully wrapped gift from her aunt, no doubt another hand-knitted sweater to add to the collection she only wore when visiting the older woman.

'Auld Lang Syne' filled the air, the credits rolling as she sipped the steaming liquid cheerfully. The night was young, and there was still time for 'Miracle on 34th Street'.

--

"Hey, buddy," Hotch called playfully, holding his son in his lap. "Do you know who's coming tonight? Is Santa going to bring you presents?"

The toddler smiled openly at his father, still not old enough to appreciate the idea of Santa Claus, but easily finding happiness in his parents' excitement.

"Come on, Jack! Let's get you ready for bed." Jessica scooped her young nephew up into her arms, heading toward the stairs. Haley made to follow them, but Aaron grabbed her wrist, pulling her back into an embrace as her sister rounded the corner.

"What about your present?" Hotch asked quietly, wrapping his arms around hers. He raised his eyes to the ceiling, a barely-contained smile on his lips as she followed his gaze to the sprig of mistletoe above them.

Haley Hotchner smirked coyly.

"So, you planned this, did you?" She drawled, entwining her fingers behind his back to deepen the embrace.

Aaron lowered his head to meet hers, kissing her softly before leaning his head against her forehead, both content just holding each other.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Hotchner."

--

"'There are many things from which I might have derived good, by which I have not profited, I dare say,' returned the nephew. 'Christmas among the rest.'"

Spencer's voice was soft in the quiet of the common room, but more than sufficient for Diana Reid's ears. The two sat across from each other, the dying light from the window guiding Reid's eyes along the pages of the book as he read.

Diana, for her part, seemed captivated, even as the room's other occupants slowly disappeared into their bedrooms, visiting hours drawing close to an end. The meager decorations that surrounded them did little to inspire holiday cheer, but the pair took no notice, both of them transported back to the small living room couch of long ago, when the whispers of their readings had been accompanied by the soft glow of a garland-covered Christmas tree. Diana Reid closed her eyes, her thoughts focused on the sound of her son's voice as he recited the words of the beloved tale.

"'But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round, as a good time: a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys...'"

Fin.