AN: Thanks you to everyone who commented and has guessed at the unsub. Your comments spurred me on to try and get this part polished up and out tonight. Think of it as a last hurrah of the weekend; a salve to that icky Monday, tomorrow.

Plus, all is finally revealed! Well, mostly revealed; the back-story comes in the next chapter.

Those of you who guessed the unsub correctly, win one internets. YAY!

The rest of you, well, I hope you enjoy it ;-)

Chapter Seven

"But we're not getting anywhere," Derek said into his phone. Penelope listened to Derek's side of the conversation, missing her tech job. Even when she was in another city to the team, she felt much more like a team member than she didn't right now.

Today marked ten days since she had come to New York and still, they had no viable leads. The only people that she saw more than once, were always in the same place. Even the young man who they had spotted twice on their street, turned out to live nearby and there was nothing suspicious in his background.

They had also run checks on every man they had identified but none jumped out as suspects, although a few did fit some parts of the profile.

Still, running all over the city, even with the divine Derek Morgan, was quickly becoming old. She also couldn't shake the thought that if she was the analyst digging up the dirt on these guys, she would have found something.

She knew that wasn't logical, and she knew that she had been looking for leads for nine days before she was asked to act as bait, but the lack of results was starting to get to her and she was even questioning her own work.

As well as putting in an hour or two on the computers each afternoon, when they visited HQ, she also tried to put in a few hours when they got home, which had the added benefit of freeing Derek up so that he could go for a run. She felt a little bad that he was lumbered with being her protector and that she was keeping him from his regular routines but by staying in the apartment for two hours (and promising faithfully not to open the door to anyone) Derek was free to do what he wanted for a little while.

Her laptop in the apartment was hooked into the FBI computers, so although it wasn't anywhere near as good as her setup at Quantico, it was enough to work with.

"Okay, we'll be there in thirty."

She turned away from the laptop as he hung up the phone.

"Hotch wants us downtown for a meeting," he explained.

"I'm kind of in the middle of a search," she explained.

He hesitated for a moment. "You can continue that while we meet, can't you?"

"I suppose, but if i stay here, i promise not to answer the door."

Derek hesitated. "We've been here ten days, Penelope, I'd really rather notleave you alone right now, she any reason."

She didnt want to cause him any more worries, so she smiled. "No problemo, daddy-o."

He smiled. "I'll get your coat."


"We're getting nowhere fast," Hotch said, his exasperation was mirrored by the rest of the team.

They were all seated around the conference table, save for Penelope, who was seated at the bank computers, digging up background information on the various men she had encountered in New York.

"We're missing something," Rossi added, his gaze focused on the victim's photographs, where they were taped to the whiteboard.

"Okay, well we've been over the profile a dozen times, so let's go over the victimology again," Blake suggested. "Maybe we'll find something we missed."

"All right," Hotch went to the board, where the victim's pictures were displayed. "The first victim was Kelly Anderson, 27 years old and she worked as a supervisor at OrkTech. She-"

They went through each victim, one by one, with Reid reciting most of the data from memory. At the same time, Penelope went through her programs, to see if they had found anything new about each victim.

"So, where does that leave us?" Hotch asked once they were finished.

"Guys, what if we're looking at this wrong," Reid suggested, his brow furrowed, as it often was when he was thinking. Clearly he hadn't completely ordered his thoughts yet. "What if the murder isn't getting turned on by the killings? There is no sexual assault, after all."

"But they're starved, beaten and left naked. The unsub is getting off on these killings," Rossi countered.

"I know that's what we assumed, but what if these women aren't his 'type', what if these are mission-oriented murders?"

"So the unsub is wiping out overweight women?" Rossi sounded more than a little sceptical.

"If there's one thing that watching Garcia for the past week has taught me, it's that I had no idea how much disgust is aimed at the overweight." Reid turned to Garcia. "No offence."

She turned away from her computers long enough to say, "None taken, sweetie."

"I've been doing some reading online," Reid continued, "and the amount of prejudice overweight people, especially women, receive is overwhelming; I don't think it's unreasonable to make the leap, that someone out there could hate large women enough to kill them."

Rossi steepled his fingers as he considered Reid's points. "Assuming that you're right, what kinds of people might target them?"

"From what I read online, especially from various comments left on blogs about this, the reasons given to excuse the abuse vary, although one common excuse seems to use the costs of H.M.O.s."

"You say 'excuse' but don't they have a point, though?" Alex asked.

"Actually, probably not. Back in 2003, in the region of Flanders, Belgium, they studied seventy two of the eighty two local sports federations, and discovered that their sports related injuries cost the local health care system over fifteen million euros, and the indirect costs were estimated to be over one hundred and ten million euros. If you factor in all the people who do sports or exercise but aren't members of a sporting federation, the costs could easily be double or triple that. If costs really are a basis for discrimination, then people who play sports or engage in any high risk activities, should be discriminated against too."

"You said 'one type'," Hotch interrupted, eager to get the conversation back on course. "What are the other types?"

"The second type are mainly women, usually those who work hard to stay slim and think that if they can do it, everyone should be able to."

"Surely if our victims had faced that kind of prejudice, they would have said something," Rossi argued. "These women had friends, spouses, even blogs, and no one has said anything about it."

"I re-interviewed the families," Blake added, "and they didn't say anything like that. In fact, the women were all doing well, described as happy with their lives, successful in their careers and mostly settled."

"The types of abuse that I've observed and been reading about, vary greatly, from disgusted looks, to passive aggressive comments, outright name calling, and even just well intentioned meddling, such as suggesting alternative items off a menu or lower calorie items while shopping."

"Well, assuming that Reid is right and they were facing this kind of bullying, why wouldn't they tell their loved ones about it?" Rossi asked.

The question went unanswered and as silence reigned for a few moments as everyone thought about the question.

"Shame." Garcia finally spoke up, although her tone was far from her usual perky voice.

"Shame?" Hotch asked, turning to her.

Penelope nodded.

"I don't understand."

Penelope looked to Reid. "You were bullied and teased as a kid, right?"

"Almost every day."

"Because you were a genius?"

"Mostly, why?" he asked.

"I'll get to that. What kinds of things did people say when you told them you'd been bullied?"

"Most were sympathetic. They told me that kids were horrible and liked to pick on the weak, that they were jealous, that I should be the bigger person and turn the other cheek, and that things would get better as I grew up."

"And what about you, Derek." She turned to him, where he sat beside her. "You must have experienced racism."

"What black kid doesn't? In my case, because I had a white mom, even the black kids picked on me."

"And what did people tell you to do about it?"

"Similar things to Reid, I guess, except I was also advised to bulk up and fight back."

Penelope nodded and turned her gaze to the whiteboard, so she didn't have to look anyone in the eye.

"When I was in high school, the cheerleaders seemed to make it their mission in life to make me miserable. A classmate found me crying one lunch time and asked what was wrong, so I told her. It wasn't anything terrible, just the culmination of weeks of insults and oinking noises as I passed them in the hallways. Do you know what she told me? That maybe they had a point and I could stand to lose a few pounds; and she was far from the only person to hold that view. My teachers never chastised them and even my friends suggested I go on diets, or told me how much prettier I'd be if I dropped a few pounds. We fat girls soon learn that there's no sympathy for our plight out there."

"Is it really that bad?" Alex asked.

"It is. Even those who don't mean to be hurtful, can be." She could see that they didn't really understand what she was trying to say. "You know when people find out that Reid's mother has schizophrenia? And they get this sort of frightened look in their eyes, like all mentally ill people are dangerous and schizophrenics especially, are either psychos or split personality?"

"Split personality-" Reid began to correct her.

"I know, sweetie," she assured him quickly. "The point is, that most people get their impression of mental illness, from things like TV, which is often mis-informed, and the news, which is usually sensationalist and ends up demonising things like mental illness. Programs like Fat Club and all these magazines promising to help you lose 8 pounds in a week, they all give the impression that losing weight is easy, and that anyone can be slim if they just put enough effort in."

She could see in a few people's eyes, that they too believed it was easy.

"People are given the impression that weight is a black and white issue, just a case of calories in verses calories expended and if you can't manage your weight, you must be lazy, unhealthy and have zero willpower. Then there's the fact that we aren't represented well in the media; we're never the heroine, we don't get the job of news anchor, we're never the romantic lead, we're lucky to be the lead actresses' fat friend, or the butt of the jokes. Laughing at anyone who is even a little bit overweight is not only allowed, but positively encouraged as cheap and easy humour. Now you've got so-called health campaigns that try to shame fat kids into losing weight, literally trying to bully them from a distance and encouraging other kids to bully them. It makes them feel bad, which makes them eat more, then they get picked on more by other kids (for their own good, of course) which makes them feel even worse…"

Realising that she was verging on a rant, she took a deep breath before continuing. Most of her friends looked surprised, never having heard her speak about weight before, but most fat people quickly realised that speaking up about these issues, just made you a bigger target. She had learned early on to keep her opinions to herself, or hide behind an anonymous username on the web when she really had to speak out.

"Anyway, not only from my own limited experience, but also from the counselling that I do with victims and survivors, I can tell you that there is so much more it than that. The reasons people overeat are many and varied, but an awful lot of it seems to be emotional, or as a coping mechanism." She wasn't about to confess that she felt the reasons for her own weight gain, were due to the degrading and sometimes threatening sexual harassment in her early teen years. She hadn't even told her parents about those, or her brothers.

"That's true actually," Reid added. "Survivors of sexual assault have been shown to have a much higher tendency to gain weight, even if they were attacked late in life and were of a normal or healthy weight previously."

Penelope nodded sadly. He was correct but it wasn't just assault survivors, food seemed to serve as a comfort for many types of trauma, from the loss of a loved one, to the loss of a job, and even low self-esteem and depression. Not to mention other causes for weight gain, such as pregnancy, hormonal changes, ageing, or just liking food too much.

"I was lucky really, my parents and my step-brothers never minded my weight and they never tried to change me, but some of you know my friend, Sylvia? Her mother put her on a diet when she was seven years old. I've seen pictures of her as a kid and she did not need to lose weight. Now she's bigger than I am."

"Seven years old?" Reid sounded shocked. "Do they have any idea how unhealthy that is? Children need added weight so that when they get a growth-"

"Reid," Hotch cut his scientific rant off, knowing that it was tangential their case.

Rossi turned to Penelope. "Overall, would you say that there is more hostility towards the overweight from men or women?"

"Women. Men just tend to ignore women that they don't find attractive, women are usually the ones who make catty remarks."

"What are you thinking?" Hotch asked, Rossi.

"I'm wondering if Reid might be right and this is a mission-oriented killer and if so, might it be a woman that we're looking for?"

They began to talk the theory through so Derek leaned over to Penelope.

"You okay, Baby Doll?"

She reached out for his hand and squeezed it. "I'm fine, but thank you."

She still wouldn't look him in the eye however, so he got up.

"Come on," he said, and she allowed him to lead her out of the room and into the interrogation room next door. He closed the door behind them and pulled her into his arms once they were alone. She put her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest.

"Are you really okay?" he asked again.

"Some of this stuff's not easy," she admitted. "But thank you."

"For what?"

She tilted her head back so she could look into his eyes.

"You've never looked through me, like I wasn't there."

He chuckled. "Are you kidding me? You were the hottest woman on our floor, hands down. Still are, in fact." He smiled. "And I'm sorry I didn't notice what was going on when we're out together."

She looked confused. "Morgan, I don't need you to rescue me."

"I know but the truth is, I did notice, I just assumed that the looks we got were because you were with me."

"Well, much as it pains me to say it, that isn't an unreasonable assumption, even in the twenty first century. Unfortunately, I got almost the same amount of looks and comments when I was out with Kevin."

"You know that you can talk to me about this stuff, right? I am never going to turn around and suggest you lose a few pounds."

"Oh, baby, she reached up and cupped his cheek in her hand. "Thank you so much for the offer but these days, most of it is like water off duck's back. I notice the looks and the comments but I try not to pay them much mind."

"Really?"

"Really. My confidence might take a knock now and again but I like who I am, and I like how I look."

Suddenly he frowned.

"What?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," he answered honestly. "I just realised that these victims remind me a lot of you in that way."

"How so?"

"They don't seem to have let their weight become an issue in their lives. They were all described as confident, had good careers, some even went to the gym."

"Hey, you can be big and healthy, you know."

"I know, but you weren't exactly thrilled at the idea of going someplace that was filled with fitness freaks, were you?"

She shrugged. He had a point; as okay as she was with her size, she was still uncomfortable around those she thought were more likely to be prejudiced against her, and gyms consisted of mostly thin or slim people. Some of the victims in this case had definitely been braver than her in that respect; she would rather have have bought a home gym, than work out in public.

"What if it's that confidence that attracts the unsub?" he wondered. "If this is a mission-oriented killer, there can be no bigger affront than someone who is not only something you hate, but also happy."

"That's a good point."

"Let's tell the others." He took her hand but as he moved away, she stayed where she was. "Penelope?"

"I think you should tell them, alone."

"Why?"

"Because weight has been the elephant in the room since this case began. I don't want people holding back because they're afraid I might offend me and more importantly, I don't want to be offended by anything someone might say in the heat of the moment."

"Penelope-"

"No, Derek. I know you all love me, and I don't want to overhear anything that might make me question that."

"Won't not knowing what we say be even worse?"

"Actions speak louder than words."

"Then what does it matter what might be said?"

"Because words have power. Please try to understand, Derek, that sometimes, for people like me, ignorance is bliss."

"And what if we need your insight?"

"I'm not a profiler! Even if it is socially acceptable, this unsub's hatred is just as irrational as any other kind of prejudice. You've experienced racism, JJ and Alex will know what sexism feels like-"

"But you are the only one who is uniquely experienced to offer insight into… whatever this hatred is called."

"Fatphobia. All right, fine, but if I end up hating one of them, I'm blaming you." She tried to tease but it sounded hollow.

Derek understood her fear, he only had to imagine overhearing one of them utter a racial epithet to know how hurt he would be. Unlike racism however, he and the rest of his team didn't really understand what was and wasn't offense to a larger woman. Still, he had confidence that his team were tactful enough not to insult Penelope, however unwittingly.

As they opened the door into the conference room, the team was clearly refining the profile.

"And she would likely be someone who works hard to stay in shape, denying herself the small treats that a normal woman would, and she'll exercise more than just regularly, perhaps even obsessively." Alex smiled at them she finished her contribution.

A quick look at the whiteboard showed bullet points for the new profile.

Derek presented his theory, that the unsub was drawn to attack these victims because of their evident happiness.

"That's a good point," Hotch said. "All the women were described as happy and confident, and all were in relationships, most of them long term. It's also probably likely that our unsub isn't happy and although the outside is as perfect as she can make it, she's still been unlucky in love."

"Or a recent breakup could have been the stressor," Rossi added.

Spencer added 'Poss single/recent breakup?' to the whiteboard profile.

"I'll get started isolating female faces on the footage," Penelope said, subtly distancing herself from the discussion, even although she was still in the same room.

Most of the people Penelope had seen, she didn't have a name and for those she had met, mostly just a first name. There were a few people that it would be easy to find information on, such as those who had been working. Business websites often listed employee names and for those that didn't, it wouldn't be hard for her to hack their IRS records and find a list of employees.

None of those people would be suspects yet, unless she had captured their image in more than one place, but she certainly couldn't recall having met a woman in two different locations. It couldn't hurt to get ahead of the game and set her programs running, to dig up information on the few names that she did have or could easily find.

The first image she captured was Lindsay, from the sports shop. She was a good candidate, Penelope thought, and once she had a surname, she began a background check running, before moving onto the next female face on the footage.

"So," Hotch turned to Morgan once they had finished. "Have you met anyone who fits this profile?"

Morgan thought back. "There's one woman, maybe."

Despite herself, Penelope couldn't help but keep one ear on the conversation.

"It didn't occur to me before because we were looking for a male unsub, but the trainer from Penelope's gym is a little too friendly."

"With Penelope?" Hotch asked, looking at Penelope but speaking to Morgan. He could tell that Garcia didn't want to be a part of this conversation if she could help it.

"No, she's friendly with Garcia but when she isn't around, she flirts with me. Nothing too overt but considering that she knew we were married, inappropriate. Plus, I've run into her when jogging in the park a couple of times. Penelope wasn't with me and it's not like that isn't a popular running destination, so I didn't think too much of it."

Penelope was seething. "Actually, she wasn't that friendly to me really. Once I got my contact lenses, I could see her giving me dirty looks during the workouts. I realised she was flirting with Derek but let's face it, that's isn't unusual. Now I realise that she's actually a hypocritical, two-faced little bitch!" She glanced over at Hotchner. "Sorry, Sir."

"Do we have a name?" Hotch asked her.

The loudness of her typing was an indication of how angry she was.

"Her first name is Jill, the surname, I'm… working… on.. now… Sir… Jill Warner. I'll have her background information in few."

"Good work."