Okay, so I finally got internet after two weeks without (Verizon sucks), and my introduction to Virginia included an earthquake and a hurricane in only a week of living there. Yeah, it's been interesting. Also determined that we won't have TV of any kind, so if anyone knows of a good virus-free site to watch CM on, please let me know!

So, onto the story. Thanks for everyone for hanging in here during my little break! Please review!

Morgan didn't know what had woken him up, but he still found himself staring up at the ceiling through the darkness. Emily was beside him, body pressed close to his, head resting on his shoulder, and her hand on his chest, almost directly over his heart. She must have had a nightmare at some point. With the exception of last night, she only ever curled up with him after a nightmare. The rest of the time she was content just for them to be near each other.

He enjoyed this-holding her while she slept. His arm was loosely around her, his fingers absently stroking her silky hair, and he found he didn't really mind being awake. He found himself thinking about what Reid had said earlier, and he knew the kid wasn't wrong. It wasn't a comfortable thought though. Not for a man that had spent the last twenty years avoiding romantic entanglements like they were certain death. Though romantic wasn't quite the way he'd classify this.

If he were completely honest, which frankly, he was loath to be, he'd admit this was not platonic. It hadn't been entirely platonic since before Bennett abducted her. Now, it was much less so. But, romantic it was not. When you'd seen as much of the world as they had, romance was nothing but a fantasy played out in overly-optimistic films. What they had was different. It was closeness, it was genuine affection for each other, and it was a trust neither of them had granted anyone in a long time. And, that was a lot.

Morgan turned and studied her face, she looked relaxed, open even as she slept, and that was a gift. Neither of them allowed others to see their vulnerability often. He leaned forward, and pressed a kiss to her head, allowing himself to linger and inhale the scent of her hair. He almost jumped at the sound of knocking.

"Morgan...Morgan." JJ knocked again. Her voice was soft, but loud enough for him to hear. He gently shifted out from underneath Emily, relieved when she only briefly stirred before falling back asleep. JJ knocked again. "Morgan-"

"What's going on? It's not even four." He pulled open the door and frowned at the almost frantic look on her face. She was trying to stay calm, but seemed to be losing the battle.

"I'm waking everyone up, there's been another attack, the woman was beaten badly, she's in the hospital."

"Are we sure this is out guy?"

She nodded. "Killed the dog." He ran a hand over his head. "But, more importantly right now, I can't find Emily. She didn't answer her door, and I can hear her phone ringing in her room, but she hasn't answered that either, and after last night..."

"She's fine, JJ," he assured.

"Morgan, she isn't in her room, and she left her cell. The last time she didn't answer her cell Bennett had her." JJ's voice cracked and it was clear she was both very upset and scared.

"She's safe, I swear," he promised, and opened the door wider, stepping to the side so she could see in. Emily's head and shoulders were just barely visible beyond the blankets.

He watched the blonde's mouth open, and then close abruptly. She turned to him with look that was warring between amused and disapproving. "How long has this been going on?"

"It's not what you think. She has nightmares, and hotel rooms...you know, and then last night..." Morgan sighed. "She needs to feel safe if she's going to get any sleep."

JJ's gaze softened. "You better wake her up and get her across the hall before Hotch sees. He won't be happy no matter what your reasons."

"Thanks," he said, already feeling the relief flow through his body.

She turned, but froze, and looked back at him. "Morgan...she's okay, right?"

"She's getting there," he said. Then she left and he closed the door and returned to the bed. He took Emily's hand in his, brushing away the hair that had fallen in her face. "Time to wake up, Princess. Unsub attacked another woman."

She stirred at his touch, and blinked awake at his voice. "What's going on?"

"New victim, she's at the hospital."

She sighed. "What time is it?"

"Not quite four. And, you gave JJ a scare, you left your phone in your room, she thought you went missing. She's knows you're in here." He watched her face carefully, surprised that she seemed only tired, not upset or even annoyed.

"I better get back to my room," she said.

"Hi there, Agent Morgan, Dr. Reid," Morgan gestured to himself and Reid while displaying his credentials.

"You're here for the rape victim?" The nurse looked to be in her early forties, with a short, boyish haircut, clear skin, and eyes that said she'd probably been working at that hospital for fifteen years or more. She was shuffling through folders, not really looking at them.

"Yes, ma'am," Reid said.

"Caroline George, 29, white. She's stable, but not good. The doctor is in there now doing the SASE."

"Can you tell us more about her condition?" Morgan asked.

She shoved a folder into a rack full of them, and then turned and gave them her full attention. "He beat her so severely that poor women will probably never wake-up, let alone speak or walk again."

Reid couldn't stop his mouth from falling open a little. They knew the killer was going to start in on the victims themselves, and that it would be bad, but he hadn't anticipated this level of violence so quickly.

"Alright, can you ask the doctor if he could speak with us after he finishes with her?" Morgan asked, hiding whatever he felt at the nurse's admission.

"Sure. Have a seat, I'll find you when he's done." She didn't physically shoo them away, but she may as well have.

They found a wall of seats and slid into them. Reid felt at once so very tired, and so very guilty that he'd gotten any sleep at all. If they hadn't stopped for sleep, then maybe…maybe this young woman wouldn't have been beaten to within an inch of her life. If they hadn't gotten caught up in that mess this afternoon, the false lead, maybe they would have found something to crack the case.

"He's going to kill the next one, Morgan," he said.

Morgan glanced at him, then back at the spot on the floor he'd been burning a hole into. "Yeah, I know."

"If we can't narrow our field of suspects, he'll attack again before we can stop him."

"No, he won't. We will stop him, just like we do all the others." The older man's tone said he wasn't convinced, or maybe he was just feeling as tired and guilty as Reid.

Reid cleared his throat. "Some we don't stop, not on the first shot. What if he's one of those?"

Morgan turned, and looked almost angry. "We caught Foyet, we caught Frank, and we caught Bennett. We'll get this bastard too, one way or another, kid. You can count on that."

Now, that was the tone of voice he was used to, the one that held conviction. He simply nodded, and sat quietly staring at his hands. Morgan returned to his very interesting spot on the floor. They didn't sit long though, maybe ten minutes, before the nurse showed up, and she didn't look happy.

"Caroline was just rushed back into surgery, she's got another bleed in her brain. You boys might be sitting her a while," she said.

Reid nodded and spoke for both of them. "Guess we better figure out where the coffee machine is."

The nurse expression softened slightly. "The one outside the ER churns out sludge, try the one outside of ICU." Then she disappeared back to work.

"Well, she's definitely single," Prentiss commented, as they combed the room. Hotch turned to see her holding what looked like a fuchsia cylinder, flipping the switch on the side to no affect.

"What's that?" He asked, almost without thinking.

Prentiss froze, and looked at him, face still in an expression that said she wasn't quite sure if he meant to ask that. "It's a vibrator, Hotch."

Only years of professionalism kept him from going pink. And then that pink cylinder began to look so obviously like a vibrator he wanted to slap himself. "Right," he said.

"And, the batteries are dead, so she's been using it frequently."

"She could have just forgotten to change them."

Prentiss shook her head. "It was on top of everything in the drawer, where it's easy to reach."

He nodded. "Fits with the unsub's type…that's she single," he clarified.

She nodded, stowed the device back into a fabric case, and then proceeded to dive back into the drawer. Thankful that awkward conversation was over, he continued searching the vanity in the corner. He wasn't sure what they were hoping to find; some trace of the unsub to lead them right to him maybe, but that seemed a little too hopeful. They all felt like they screwed this one up, maybe he most of all. He was their leader, he decided when to call quitting time.

But, what was the alternative? They don't sleep at all? That would leave his team running on fumes, and agents running on fumes often made dangerous mistakes. No, he'd had no choice but send them for sleep. And, it wasn't like they'd gotten much either, thanks to the loon that broke into Prentiss's room and scared the hell out of her. He imaged after that, many people (women and men) would have flown back home and hunkered down for a few days. But, Emily Prentiss was far too stubborn for that.

Rossi had told him to stick to worrying about the case, and let the other man worry about Prentiss. This way they'd each only have one thing to worry about. Easier said than done. He said she'd been fine yesterday, tense, but she was still focused on the case. Just like she seemed to be now. He was glad for that, and that they'd missed the press this morning.

"Hotch, Emily, Rossi's got something." JJ suddenly appeared, beckoned them, and then vanished as quickly. Prentiss shut the nightstand drawer and followed JJ, Hotch not far behind her.

"I think our unsub's control is waning," Rossi greeted them. He was kneeling by the sofa, and looked as if he'd been looking under it.

"The blood all over her bed suggests as much," Prentiss said.

"Yes, but that we expected, but we didn't expect this," he said, cocky smirk on his face, as he lifted the skirt of the couch.

The two profilers and the liaison all got low to the ground, and peered under the sofa. They were met with two bright yellow-green eyes, and the vague outline of a cat. A small cat, it looked like, that had likely hidden in terror when the massacre started.

Hotch yanked his head back. "He didn't kill the cat."

Rossi nodded. "And, the dog wasn't butchered either, one cut through it's neck."

JJ and Prentiss looked at the two men. "What does that mean?" The Liaison asked.

"He's either making mistakes or he didn't care, either way he's devolving," Hotch explained.

"And, that's good for us?"

Rossi shrugged. "Mistakes are good, devolving means a lack of control, and that's good for us, but not his victims."

"I had a thought," Prentiss said, turning to Rossi. "You remember what we were discussing yesterday about victimology?" He nodded. "What if he isn't choosing these victims because they're weak enough surrogates for him to kill, what if he's not killing his abuser?"

Hotch frowned. "Who would he be killing then?"

"Himself."