A/N: Disclaimer can be found in the previous chapter.
Because the chapters are 'shorter' it is harder to divide them accordingly, so I hope the chaptersaren't too disjointed.


"How long has this been going on, exactly?" Hotchner inquires as Gideon closes the door behind them.

"Initially, the murders began in February." Virginia Police Captain Neil Henderson replies, sitting confidently behind his desk. "At first we thought it was because of Valentine's Day. I'm sure you're well aware of the statistics pertaining to murders and suicides surrounding and during that day in particular." He adds with a tight frown.

"This isn't the work of your average Joe. The evidence suggests that we are dealing with a serial killer." Hotchner states as he sits in one of the chairs.

"Look, all we have to work with are five three week cycles and ten bodies." Henderson snaps. "The kicker is that forensics have yet to turn up something of significance that will crack the case. We literally have nothing as far as DNA samples, foreign fibres or anything else that yields a suspect. It seems to us that shy of a ghost; we haven't a single individual to pin these murders on. Seriously gentlemen, do you honestly think that we would call you if we had the slightest idea of who we're looking for."

"Well, now that we are here, I'm sure that you will allow us to do our job." Gideon remains cool. Henderson stares at him, long and hard.

"I know what you are capable of, which is why we need the ace in our hand. Agent Gideon, you and your team are the best and quite frankly, we need the best in our back pocket." He shuffles through a few papers before standing. "I presume that you will need access to our files?" Hotchner nods and they follow Henderson to the main office. "Agent Jareau warned me of how the BAU works." He utters under his breath. "Take over." Both Gideon and Hotchner ignore his snide remark.

"Everyone. May I have your attention?" Henderson stands in front of his officers. "The FBI's BAU team are here to assist us with this latest case. I know that you will be accommodating. Please offer them any notes you have, access to the crime scene photographs, even discuss with them any ideas or theories that you may have. Any information that we can provide them with will inevitably assist us in catching this bastard." He turns the floor over to Hotchner.

"Thank you Henderson." He pauses, a tactic employed to read his audience, to know how much information to reveal at this time. "We appreciate any assistance which will facilitate in our establishing a working profile with which you will be able to use in apprehending the un-sub. Hopefully we will work seamlessly together and have our un-sub in interrogation, a quick confession, and a closed case."

"Agent Gideon is it?" a voice comes from the back of the room.

"Yes?" he replies, acknowledging the officer.

"This came for you." He weaves through the mass of people and hands him an envelope.

"Thank you." Turning back to the group. "We hope to have the working profile available to you this evening. Tomorrow morning the latest." He smiles and everyone returns to their desks and whatever mountain of paperwork they had been working on prior to the FBI's interruption.

Leading the team into a smaller conference room that had been set up prior to their arrival, J.J. quickly opens the file of their latest victim. She tapes the crime scene photographs onto the board at the front of the room. Elle sits herself in a seat beside Derek Morgan and together, they sift through the forensics reports.

"It says here that they didn't find evidence that would assist in locating their suspect." Morgan tilts his head in thought.

"Is it possible that the un-sub doesn't have a criminal record? A first timer perhaps?" Reid wonders aloud. "Granted, the skill with which is employed seems as though a great deal of study had to occur in order to achieve this result." He points towards the photograph. "The coroner's report states that the victim had been drugged; only enough to be overpowered. That would indicate a smaller un-sub. If not in height, it's possibly in girth."

"How many more days do we have left in this cycle?" J.J. inquires as she sits herself between Reid and Hotch.

"If the un-sub holds true to their pattern of behaviour, then I would say two days and one more victim at the very least." Gideon replies leaning casually against the wall. He runs a hand through his cropped hair and then steps closer to the board. Mentally shifting the information, lips part ever so slightly as he tilts his head in thought.

"Here we go." Morgan states under his breath.

"In terms of the physical evidence found on the scene. Has there been any reoccurring theme or themes?" Elle inquires.

"Reoccurring themes?" Hotchner looks at her for a moment.

"I wish I could see something, but other than the fact that each crime scene is literally wiped clean of any trace evidence, that's all we have to work with."

"An obsessive mind." Gideon interjects.

"Not much help." Elle sighs heavily. "We are missing something very significant." Standing, she leaves in need of a change of perspective. Sensing her vibe, Gideon follows and they end up in the break room.

"Coffee?" she doesn't look at him while she reaches for a paper cup and fills it with the steaming liquid caffeine.

"Please." He replies and she hands him the cup, he adds some cream and stirs it with a thin plastic stick. "So what's going on?"

"I just have this feeling that once we get that missing piece the case will break open." She replies and they sit in the chairs, a small coffee table between them.

"You look absolutely exhausted."

"Thanks." She sips her coffee and rolls her eyes. "I need a good solid eight hours of sleep, then I'm sure I'd have a better perspective," she pauses. "Before you say anything. I know, that I can't do that and will get used to this. I just need a break from chasing monsters. I chase them in my waking hours and when I ought to be asleep."

"Elle, we all experience nightmares. I know that it's probably one of the more difficult aspects of the job, yet at the same time, we win." He leans towards her and gently touches her arm. She nods and slowly matches his gaze.

"I normally have things under control. A routine that has never failed me," she sighs, sips her coffee, "until now. It's just that we hardly have the Wisconsin case under wraps, then we're off to San Francisco, and when we finally get a home case, it's just as heinous as the others. When are vacations in order?" her dark eyes hold hope of some time away from the monsters.

"Soon, I promise. Hotch and I have been trying to work something out so that the team will have a couple of weeks off. We have all worked very hard. Take a breather. We'll get this un-sub, just as we did the others." His expression is kind and holds a warmth she finds endearing.

"Sounds wonderful. I can't wait." She returns his kindness with a soft smile of her own. "By the way," she pauses, choosing her words carefully, "are you all right? You seem more intense somehow. I know it's not my business."

"That's never stopped you before." He says with a glint in his eye, she looks down for a moment.

"It just seems to me that once you received that letter, you haven't quite been yourself. Just an observation."

"A bit of bad news is all. Everything will be fine." He replies, brushing the thought aside. She nods her understanding. That was the beauty of their relationship, one always understanding the other beyond mere words. She reaches out once more and rests a comforting arm on his broad, strong shoulder and he covers her hand with his own.

"I suppose we had better get back." He takes her paper cup and puts it in the trash with his own. Morgan stands frozen in the doorway. Both Elle and Gideon are unable to read his expression.

"Hotchner was wondering. Never mind." He stammers, something very out of character for him, they watch as he quickly makes a dash for the conference room. Shrugging, they follow rejoining the team.

"Gideon, I think that we ought to break for dinner. We'll be able to return to Quantico, split up and work undisturbed, which will allow us to assemble our preliminary profile." Hotchner suggests. Gideon; however, is well aware of the fact that they had already agreed upon the suggestion while he and Elle were in the break room. Because the evidence had been packed into three boxes and their notebooks, pens, and other papers tucked away as well, Gideon merely smiles his agreement. Instead of further discussion, Gideon nods his agreement and they make their way to the SUVs. Hotchner drives one and Morgan the other.

Managing to get through a meal at a local restaurant with conversation that for one didn't encompass cases past and present, they agree to stop at a popular coffee shop to pick up deserts and coffee for the long night ahead. Arriving at Quantico, they aren't surprised to find that most have gone for the night. Claiming a conference room, they unpack some of the photographs from one of the boxes, then the files from another.

"Morgan, you and Reid will head to the media room and work through those photographs. Morgan, we'll get you access to the last crime scene in the morning." Hotchner begins. "Gideon, I think it best that you work with Elle, we have Garcia on call and I'll work with J.J. on getting her press kit prepared. We don't want to connect the dots for the media. Right now, we have the upper hand and if they in any way, shape or form connect these cases, we'll loose that advantage."

"Reid, I also want you to go through all of the forensic reports. That way when you go with Morgan tomorrow, you'll have a better idea of what to look for." Reid nods his understanding. The team split into their groups and begin working through the evidence. Once Morgan and Reid are finished, they switch rooms with Gideon and Elle, and so on, until each pair has had the chance to review and sift through the evidence. Gideon's gaze falls on Elle, who leans over an open file, propping her head with her hand, she then rubs her temples.

"Elle I think it's probably best for you to head home."

"We still have so much to do." She protests, trying to stifle a yawn. He glances at the clock on the wall. Closing the distance between them, he rests his hand on the back of her chair and leans in towards her.

"I think we all ought to get some rest. I'm sure we've put a good dent in the information and we'll have a complete profile in the morning." He says warmly.

"You already have a profile. It's just a matter of how long it takes the rest of us to figure it out." She tilts her head.

"We'll discuss the profile in the morning." He winks and the team reassembles in the main conference room.

"Tomorrow morning we will meet here at ten." Hotchner says, closing the file in front of him.

"Ten?" Reid's eyebrows furrow.

"Unless you and Morgan want to head to the last crime scene earlier?" Gideon arches a brow.

"Ten is good." Morgan answers quickly cutting Reid off and the group gather their jackets before breaking for the evening.


The dance floor is packed with people moving gracefully to the pulsating music. She twirls within the skilled arms of her partner and continues to sway to the music's hypnotic rhythm.

"Let's say we get out of here?" he doesn't have to yell over the music and she looks him in the eye and nods her ascent. Letting him lead her off the floor, they easily make their way through small groups of people, past the bouncer and into the night.

He opens and closes the door quickly behind them, wrapping her up in his arms, locking lips. Kicking off her heels, her feet hardly touch the floor as she is whisked towards the bedroom. Clothes are unzipped, unfastened, and fall to the floor in small puddles. He sets her down on the bed and holds up a hand.

"I'll be right back. Don't move." He says smiling wickedly, she bats her eyelashes and makes her way to her purse. The vile is small and she sets herself back in the bed, vial concealed when he returns with two glasses and a bottle. He climbs into bed and pours the wine. Turning to put the bottle on the nightstand, he does not see her tap some of the vials powdered contents into his glass. They toast each other and the wonderful evening ahead. Hardly having the chance to touch her, his eyes feel incredibly heavy and he drops the glass. Kissing his forehead, she smiles more to herself as she gathers her props. Her routine now down to a science, she raises his arms above his head, and snaps the restraints in place, gathers the glasses, the bottle and turning off the light, finds the kitchen. Placing the dirty glasses in the dishwasher, not caring as to whether or not the dishes are clean or dirty, puts the powder in the cup and closes the steel door, popping the button. Satisfied that she has ridden herself of the key evidence and that her evening dance partner is more than likely coming to, she opens the bedroom door.

Not taking the time she has with her slue of previous victims, she notices the clammy cold sweat dampening his brow. She's far more confident, more forceful than with the last victims, she realises she's in full control. Straddling him, she deftly touches his face with slender fingers and the sly smile that tugs at the corners of her lips widening ever so slighting then forming a toothy grin.

"This is quite the predicament." His voice is horse, his laugh throaty. "Although, I must admit isn't exactly what I had in mind. But I'll play." He is confident despite his position of almost complete submission. She merely leans down, her lips pressing into the crease at the base of his thick neck; she nips at the sensitive skin.

"Play? Is that what you think this is?" she grasps the knife she had placed on the bedside table. His expression changes almost as quickly as her mood, to utter shock.

"Listen, this really isn't what I had in mind." He stammers unable to get his wrists out of the restraints. "I just thought that we'd come back to my place for some fun."

"Perhaps you misunderstood." She replies as she rips a piece of bedding, screwing it up, creating a fair sized clump and shoves it into his mouth as she has with her previous victims.


Reid ducks under the caution tape and slips his hands into a pair of latex gloves. An odd feeling runs through him as he mentally notes that it is very similar to the others; nothing taken, nor left behind. Moving though the room, he observes the crime scene photographer taking the numerous and necessary pictures, the medical examiner as he makes his notations, and Elle and Gideon walking around the room while Hotchner and Morgan must be elsewhere.

"Estimated time of death?" Gideon inquires. The M.E. looks at the thermometer, then raises his eyes towards Gideon.

"Judging from the core body temperature and based on the fact that there is air conditioning," he pauses, "I would have to guess that the time of death fell in around one and three this morning." Gideon nods, closed lipped and their attention seems to be drawn towards Elle, who has managed to detach herself from the main room and slip into the adjoining bath.

"Gideon, would you take a look at this?" they all hear her call. Hotchner and Morgan enter the room and stand behind with Reid. "I suppose this is the needle that we're in dire need of?" she points to her finding. He tilts his head, glancing around the room.

"Could we get the photographer in here please?" he calls and the photographer arrives, camera and yellow plastic plaques in tow. He places the plaque beside the lone piece of evidence and snaps a few photos. Gideon gets a plastic bag from his pocket and carefully places the lone raven strand within.

"At the very least, it may lead us to an un-sub." Finding the head forensic scientist on the scene, he hands him the baggie to be processed.

"I'll put a rush on this, but keep in mind that it could take anywhere from a couple of days to weeks." Gideon nods his understanding and the team gather in the main room.

"I think we have our preliminary profile." Hotchner announces. "We should head back to Quantico and prepare it."

"I'd like to stay behind and get a better feeling for the crime scene. I don't wish another to gather what I need." Morgan says.

"Morgan, would you mind if I stayed behind with you?" Reid pipes in.

"No, of course not." He replies as the rest of the team file out into the hall in silence.

"What do you think?" Reid inquires standing before the bed and watching as the coroner begins to shimmy the body into the thick black bag. Morgan's lips twitch in thought and he turns to face the scene.

"I think it's safe to presuppose that this victim has been drugged like the rest." Morgan sighs.

"Even so, the un-sub would have to have some major upper body strength to get their intended victim here." Reid follows Morgan's train of thought.

"An accomplice perhaps?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. I find it very odd that the only thing found this time round is that hair."

"Do you think that our un-sub has begun to regress?"

"Mistakes are common when that occurs; however, in this case, it seems highly unlikely." Reid looks at the blood soaked bed and shakes his head. "Elle's right. There is more to this. This murder should never have happened." He adds with a deep frown.

"What do you mean?"

"The un-sub was sloppy. If this murder were meant to occur, had it been planned it would no doubt have gone on without a hitch. The hair Elle found was the hitch." Reid replies gently picking up the boxed bed shirt.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't know. Thought I might find something that would help." He replies letting the skirt fall back into place.

"Okay, presuming that I don't have an accomplice, I drug my intended victim. How do I go about doing this? Its obvious that the victim would not be able to get back to his place if he were sedated."

"Right, so I would have done that here."

"Exactly!" Morgan exclaims. "I would get my victim to get us something to drink and slip something in it."

"That's possible." Reid replies. Morgan seems to pace for a moment.

"If I'm the un-sub I'm definitely female."

"That's too far out in left field!"

"How so? Every other angle leads us to major road blocks." Morgan replies.

"Then you're suggesting that the team has the wrong profile."

"Everything about the un-sub is correct. We just got the gender wrong." He replies and they duck under the caution tape and Morgan dials Hotchner's cell while Reid drives back to Quantico.

To Be Continued…