(Ooh look at me go! Another update, and my longest chapter yet! Anywho, here's chapter 8, and PLEASE REVIEW! LET ME KNOW YOU ARE OUT THERE AND YOU LIKE THIS STORY. PLEASE. Jordon.)

"Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires." William Shakespeare

We've been in Seattle for roughly 48 hours and it doesn't feel as though we are any closer to catching this guy. Every lead we unearth either falls flat or else turns up another question that we don't have an answer for. We know that we're looking for a male, white, probably late twenties to mid thirties, targeting women in their twenties of all racial backgrounds. He finds them in a variety of places- one went missing on her way home from a yoga class, a few disappeared while bar hopping, one girl, only twenty-one years old, was last seen on a security camera in a laundromat. We also know that they leave with him willingly.

I drum my fingers against the conference room table, staring at their photos tacked to the board. "They're all so beautiful. How can he possibly lure them away?" I murmur.

"What makes you say that?" I turn in my chair to face Hotch.

"Well, I mean they are. They're all very conventionally attractive. And in great shape, I mean Heather Matapang was a cheerleader at the University of Washington."

"That's true. Zoe Martinez was a life guard, Ashlyn Alexander was last seen at a yoga class… All of his targets shared the same slim physique." Morgan supplies as he flipped through the folders.

"But what did you mean by the second part?" Hotch leans forward and places his elbows on the table.

"Well… These are pretty girls. I'm sure they get hit on all the time. It's going to take a lot more than a standard pick up line to interest them. They don't need the confidence boost provided by the male attention."

Spencer pushed his glasses up his nose. "Actually, that may not be true. Women who are seen as attractive by their peers are just as likely to have low self confidence, if not more so. Some scientists actually did a study regarding women whose facial dimensions fit that of what's considered beautiful or attractive and their data suggested that these women were potentially more at risk for low self esteem and it's associated risk behaviors."

Morgan takes a drink from his coffee. "Such as?"

"Most commonly, eating disorders, depression, numerous sexual partners, and binge drinking."

"Wait, what if that's how he's getting them to come with him? Something in him is able to sense their insecurities, and he exploits it?" Rossi propositioned.

"Okay so I'm this unsub. I'm in an environment, surrounded by plenty of girls to pick from." Morgan stands and begins to pace in front of the board. "I'm looking, looking, then I see a pretty girl, sitting alone." He comes to stand next to my chair. "Why's a pretty thing like you sitting alone?" He acts out, throwing in a charming smile.

"Just waiting for a friend, thanks." I shoot back. Morgan pulls out the chair next to me.

"Y'know, I think you are one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. I would love to get to know you better." He even throws an arm across the back of my chair, leaning in.

"Okay no." laughs Emily. "No girl would fall for that line. That's like, guys to steer clear of 101."

"Wait guys I think he might be negging." We all turn our heads to look at Spence. "It's a technique where the guy subtly insults the girl he wants. It makes her look for validation."

Derek took his arm off the back of my chair. "Soo… instead of complimenting her, I bait her." He turns back to face me. "Man it's a shame that you're not into running. You could probably be really pretty if you worked out." Even though I know it's just a stupid exercise we're using to get inside the mind of the unsub, the smile slides from my face and my stomach tightens in shame. Morgan gives me another smile. "Actually, I happen to own a gym. You should come bye, I could give you some pointers on how to lose that muffin top."

"But these girls were tiny. That wouldn't work." Emily threw in. Yes they were tiny, unlike me who was disgusting and huge.

"It doesn't matter how she actually looks. It only matters how she thinks she looks."

Hotch stood up from the table. "I think we're ready to give our profile."

That night I find myself in a bar in the heart of Seattle. It's nearly ten and I'm sitting alone at a table, with a glass of wine. My hair is down and curly, covering the earpiece I'm wearing.

"Do you see anyone who fits the profile, JJ?" Hotch's voice is quiet but firm. I take a sip of wine while surreptitiously glancing around the darkened room. I look down at my phone as if I'm texting.

"No one yet."

"It's a negative for the other locations as well." Emily, me, and basically every female cop on the Seattle force were sent out tonight to canvas and hopefully catch this guy. I take another sip of wine. I haven't eaten anything other than the oatmeal I had for breakfast and the banana I had found for lunch. My stomach growls and I ignore it. What's harder to ignore however is the way the wine is affecting me more quickly than normal, with nothing in my stomach to soak it up. My face feels warm and as my body calls out for food I can't stop my brain from entertaining the thought of ordering food from the bar. This is why you can't drink. You're a stupid weak fuck up who must remain on high alert-

"Are you waiting for someone?" I nearly jump out of my skin, not having sensed someone walk up to my table. I look up to find a man, early thirties, smiling at me pleasantly.

"Uh… no. I just figured I would stop here for a nightcap on my way home from work." I let my eyes take in his blonde hair, his brown eyes, his scruffy facial hair.

"Let me guess, accounting?"

I chuckled, making sure that my hair stayed in place over my earpiece. "No I'm in Public Relations actually."

"Would you mind if I joined you? I'm Nate, by the way."

"Well thanks Nate, but I think I'm fine alone. I'm probably about to head out." I could hear Hotch in my ear, warning me to be careful.

"Are you new to the area? I haven't seen you in here before."

"I recently moved from Pennsylvania, yeah."

"Have you found a good gym?" Now I could hear Hotch advising Morgan, who was outside the bar to prep for action.

"No… No I haven't."

"Well I'm a personal trainer, I could hook you up. Actually, I know of a great plan that would help you burn off some of that weight you're carrying in your legs." I can feel my face flush and I swallow thickly.

"Uhm… Thank you?" I offer back.

"No, no! I don't mean anything by it, it's just that I'm a professional, we can see these things. Actually, I have my card and a brochure for my program in my car, let me walk you out and I can grab them for you."

I agree and throw down some cash onto the table. I follow him outside. In the parking lot he leads me to an older model Ford Explorer where he grabs the papers from the backseat. As I go to reach for them, I see him go for my extended wrist. I quickly counter and pull back so he reaches for my top pulling me closer to him. He gets in a slap across my face before I strike out hard, catching him in the nose. Blood begins to flow and he angrily punches me in the stomach. My breath is completely knocked from my body but I still manage to land a punch across his cheekbone. He whips his head back to me but right as he begins another attack, Morgan is there, slamming him against the SUV. I place my hands on my knees, still trying to draw in a breath. I can see the lights of cop cars and ambulances as they speed onto the scene. Soon I can hear Hotch's voice as he barks for Morgan to get the unsub into the car. Then he is next to me and I force myself to straighten up, not wanting to show him how weak I am.

"JJ are you alright?"

"Yeah Hotch, I'm fine." I try to keep my voice level but it comes out as more of a gasp.

"You're getting checked over by a paramedic."

"Hotch-"

"I mean it." I can tell by his tone of voice that he won't hear otherwise, so I let him escort me to the back of an ambulance. As they take my blood pressure and gently prod my face, I have to physically keep my eyes open. I'm exhausted. They have me lie back on the stretcher and lift my shirt so that they can look at where he punched me for bruising and swelling. I hear the door open and I anxiously tug my shirt back down.

"What's the diagnosis?" Hotch asks the EMT.

"Agent Jareau's going to have some bruising to her face and stomach but other than that she should be fine. Her blood pressure is pretty low though, you may want to get that checked out." He says, not addressing me until the end.

"But she's okay to travel?"

"Yeah, shouldn't be a problem." I thank the EMT and allow Hotch to give me a hand out of the ambulance. We get in the SUV to head back to the hotel. It's too late to fly back tonight, so we'll have another night here in Seattle. I rest my head against the window and finally let my eyes fall shut. The ache in my solar plexus does nothing to hide the hanger pangs and all at once I just want to cry.

"Are you okay, JJ?" Hotch asks from the driver seat.

"I'm fine," I lie. "It just been a long day."

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