Gideon faced the board in front of him, several pictures of bloody, dead bodies in front of him. Shaking his head just slightly, he continued telling his team the information he'd gathered.

"The bodies were dumped in an unspectacular fashion in several places; never the same place twice."

Tapping his finger on a map hanging from the board as well, he indicated the three circles that had been drawn on with a red marker.

"San Leandro, Alameda, and Berkeley. They were found in alley ways, far enough away from the main roads so that no one stumbled upon the bodies for a while. The victims' bodies were bruised, battered, cut, marked as if they had been struggling against restraints - "

"So we're looking for some sadistic psycho who tortures people until they die?" Morgan interrupted, his hands clasped behind his head and his chair rocking back and forth as he watched Gideon turn around to face him.

"I don't think so. Cause of death for all the victims was either starvation or dehydration."

"How long did the victims go without anything to eat or drink?" Elle asked, her tone both shocked and horrified.

Before he could help himself, Spencer chimed in,

"Statistics say anywhere from five days to three weeks, depending on body mass. If and when a person loses 40% of their body mass, the result is death…"

"So what you're saying is the UnSub knew he had time." Hotch said, from across the table, his gaze moving from Gideon to Reid.

"Most likely. Which means he probably had some type of base of operations. Some hide away where he knew he wouldn't be found." Gideon replied, before continuing, turning his back to the group to look at the board again. "All the victims were male, ages around twenty to twenty-four. The first one was Caucasian, the second one, Mexican."

"What did they look like?" Elle asked, and Gideon turned around again, flipping open a folder that had been lain on the table before all of them had gathered.

Inside were three photographs of the men, each photo pinned to a record sheet which also contained snap-shots of the crime scene. Gideon sat down in his chair, resting his elbow on the table and rubbing his temples while Hotch, Reid and Morgan each took a file and began to read. Hotch was the first one to speak up.

"Alright, Gary Garcias, twenty-three Mexican male with a wife and a five year old girl, living legally in San Leandro. Small home, not that much money, job at a shipping company. Average weight, height, no criminal record to speak of."

"Richard Torrent, twenty years old. Caucasian male, divorced, no kids. Lives alone in a small shack just outside Berkeley. Halftime worker at a grocers, overweight, short, arrested twice for public intoxication." Morgan replied.

Reid took a little longer in speaking up, but when he did, his voice was slightly squeaky, and he had to clear it before trying again.

"Says here that Danny Forester was twenty-four when he died. Had a wife he'd married about two years ago, and a baby boy who's about one and a half. Even though he lived in Alameda, he worked full time in security down at the Oakland Airport. Has a short criminal record of petty theft, auto theft, and an attempted bank robbery."

"So there's no real connection between the victims?" Morgan said, looking up at the rest of the unit.

"There has to be some connection." Gideon replied before sighing softly. "We just haven't found it yet."

"Well, maybe it was looks." Reid said softly. "Mr. Forester was lean, very little muscle, blond hair…"

Hotch just shook his head. "Mr. Garcias had black hair, though he didn't have much muscle on him either."

Morgan looked up again before looking down at the paper and reading it through before replying as well, "Mr. Torrent, like I said before, was overweight. He wouldn't have had any muscle in that flab."

"So the UnSub must not want much of a fight out of his victims." Elle voiced.

"Which means our guy either has a disability, or lacks confidence." Reid said, laying down the folder and watching the others.

"But why not go after women then? Men are harder to take down." Morgan shook his head.

"Hey, that's sexist." Elle piped up, but Gideon waved a hand at her, staring at a spot on the table.

"It may be, but it has truth to it. Women generally put up less of a fight than men do. So that means that a male is needed for the UnSub to get any satisfaction from his work."

"And as the age of the victim goes down, the age of the UnSub inevitably goes up." Reid mused softly.

"Which must put our attacker at… around forty to forty-five." Finished Hotch.

"So do we have a profile?" asked Elle, as she looked at Gideon.

Shaking his head sadly, Gideon replied, "Not even close. Grab your things, our plane leaves in two hours."

XXXX

"Light thinks it travels faster than anything, but it is wrong. No matter how fast the light travels, it finds the darkness has always gotten there first, and is waiting for it." - Terry Pratchett

XXXX

Reid could tell it was going to be a long night. Papers were scattered across the table in front of him, as well as on his lap as he looked over the different victims and the way they had been found. Gideon had been dead on when he said they had been 'dumped.' Limbs were askew, sometimes the face was down, sometimes it was up. Like they had been thrown as far as the UnSub could have thrown them, and just left there. So the UnSub didn't feel the need to return to the scene of the crime, which rules out any affection for them. None of the lacerations they had found on the bodies had been hesitant, but they hadn't been life threatening either.

Maybe the UnSub had a split personality disorder; Reid thought. Maybe it was the need for dominance that drove him to starve his victims to death, maybe it was a vendetta of some sort that drove this UnSub to kill like this. Reid's brows furrowed as he reached for Mr. Torrent's picture again. He was standing with his arm around what Reid assumed to be his ex-wife when they were still together, smiling at the camera.

The wife, however, was looking off into the distance, a very faint smile on her face, but it looked more forced than anything. Switching his focus back to the man, Reid had to agree with Morgan; there was no way this man had any muscle under his fat. In fact, he looked a lot older than twenty, maybe about mid to late thirties. Laying the picture back down on the table, Reid brought his hand up to his forehead and began to rub as he closed his eyes. He sat there for a few minutes, thinking over everything when a voice from behind him startled him so much, Reid just about flew out of his seat.

While he ended up still seated, papers went flying as Reid heard Morgan chuckle.

"Little jumpy, are we?"

"Shut up…" Reid found himself saying before he could catch himself, his head turning toward the floor as he hurriedly tried to pick up the papers.

"Relax man, I didn't mean any thing by it." Morgan bent down to help pick up the mess, but Spencer was just finishing up righting them, so he simply stood back up and slid into the seat opposite from him.

Reid kept his head down for a few more minutes as he put the files away, setting them safely on the inside seat next to him, before clasping his hands in his lap and chancing a look at Morgan again.

"I'm sorry - " he started to say, but Morgan held up a hand to stop him.

"Don't worry about it. Like I said, I didn't mean anything." Then he placed his hands behind his head and leaned back, watching Reid. "Why aren't you asleep?"

"I could ask the same of you." Reid replied, staring back at his partner.

Morgan chuckled again before shaking his head. "I was planning on getting a few Z's, but your rustling over here was keeping me awake." But before Reid could stutter out an apology, Morgan was talking again. "Don't worry about it though. Once I get tired enough, nothing can stop me from sleeping."

Reid watched Morgan yawn before saying softly,

"And how tired are you?"

Chuckling, Morgan said just as quietly, "Getting pretty damn tired. What about you?"

Worrying his lower lip between his teeth, Reid debated on how to answer that. Was he tired? Of course. But not only was there a case he should be worrying about, but he didn't know if that strange dream was just a one time thing, or if it would be repetitive. It was just too strange to make much sense out of it. Blinking a few times, Reid realized that Morgan was still waiting on his answer, so he admitted softly,

"Yeah, maybe a little."

Morgan nodded before he got up, then placing a hand on Reid's shoulder for a few seconds, saying, "Get some sleep then," before walking back to his own seat. Reid nodded slightly as well, though he knew Morgan couldn't see it. Maybe there wouldn't be any more strange dreams. Readjusting his position slightly, Reid lowered his head back against his chair and closed his eyes. He hadn't realized how tired he was… Within seconds, Reid was asleep, along with the rest of the unit.