Sorry it is taking me a while to write more, I just couldn't choose which road I wanted to take this story down, but hopefully this is the right one. (Oh, and I want to add, I forgot to write in J.J... oops. So I guess we will just have to pretend that she was indeed in the past two chapters- sorry about that)

Warning: language, and this might have descriptions of victims, and other things(not entirely sure yet) and may also have descriptions of anxiety, and murder. There may also be other things... (ps, I'm actually not sure what all will be in this chapter- this story may or not be very accurate, but it's just the way I dreamed it up)

Thank you for the encouragement, it's the motivation I need to actually get this done. With love to all, here's the next part:

Walking into work Monday, I felt... well, happy. It was Penelope's day back, and I had finally got a big chunk of the weight off my shoulders. I ended up being a few minutes late (which was kind of a habit), but I knew everything was under control. I rushed up to join Pen, wondering where the others were. On my way, I noticed they were all in the briefing room, (side note: if it's called something different, I can't remember... so yeah)

Sliping in with a sheepish smile I took my seat hoping I hadn't missed much. Morgan slid a tablet over so I could catch up with the case. I nodded my thanks as J.J. continued.

I swiped through the information quickly, reading everything that had been put together so far, and memorizing it.

"This is Jean Dwight, just turned seventeen," J.J. said pulling up a picture of a smiling brunette woman, "she went missing two years ago, which makes her now, nineteen."

"And, she was just found dead," Pen said bringing up some more pictures.

"Hands and feet were bound, she was gagged and according to the med reports, she was raped, starved, and beaten. Lacerations and bruisings all over her body, and what looked like a few stab wounds, also some head wounds. The cause of death was strangulation."

"Well didn't they do a rape kit? They'd be able to find out who it was.." Morgan asked confused.

"Well, they did, but the body was clean. Really clean. Except for the dirt and grass from where they found her. The clothes were the same that she had gone missing in, and they had been thoroughly cleaned as well." J.J. explained.

"Even her hair is done," Reid said studying the photos, "whoever did this wanted her to look pretty."

"Is there anything else to go on?" Hotch asked.

"Not really, according to the reports from two years ago, she didnt have many friends and no boyfriend. The parents say she was normally happy." J.J. told us.

"What about a phone or computer?" Emily spoke up.

"The phone is gone and so is the computer," Penelope said shaking her head.

"So we are probably looking for a male," Rossi said looking at the others for our thoughts.

"Yes, probably in his twenties to late thirties," Hotch added gaining nodds from the rest of the team.

"Who is into pretty brunettes, but who aren't very popular." Morgan interjected.

After a little more discussion, Morgan and I were headed to the girl's home to talk to her parents and look at her room, while Reid, Emily, and Rossi went to talk to the local police. Hotch and J.J. stayed with Penelope, waiting for more information.

Nothing much was said on the way to the house, but I was tense. I hated these cases.

"I'm Agent Morgan, and this is Agent O'Neal," Morgan told the girl's parents when they opened the door, "FBI." We showed our badges and were invited inside.

"Please, have a seat, I'm George Dwight, and my wife," the father said motioning, "Karla."

"Do you know what happened to Jean?" Karla asked, though she already knew the answer.

"No, Mrs, Dwight," I said gently, "but we will do everything we can to find who did this."

Morgan nodded in agreement.

"Is there anything you can tell us about your daughter?" He asked after we all settled in the living room. "Even if it seems unimportant, it may be helpful."

The couple looked at each other, not knowing where to start.

"Jean was always positive, she didn't have many friends, but it didn't seem to bother her." Karla started trying to remember anything that could help.

I smiled softly, "did she have maybe a best friend? Or a boyfriend?" I asked.

"She hung out sometimes with one girl, Lanie Ray. She had a crush now and then, but Jean didn't have a boyfriend." Karla reminisced.

"Do you think she might have hidden anything from you?" Morgan asked not trying to be disrespectful.

"I don't think so," George answered slowly thinking back. "She was very open to us, sometimes she would act a little down, but it didn't seem to be anything serious."

George looked at his wife and she agreed.

"Jean would always talk with us if there was something wrong, at school or anything."

"It sounds like you had a good relationship with her," I said, "May we see her room?" I asked.

"Um, yes, I guess." The mother said standing.

The parents looked a little confused, but cooperated politely. They led the way up the stairs to their daughter's room; which had been left exactly the way it was when she had been there. It looked normal. Mirror and desk, makeup strewn about, clothes rumpled in a corner where she had tried on different outfits before choosing one, bed mostly made, notebooks, pencils and pens, jewelry on hooks. Purses hung on the closet door, a few stuffed animals on the bed, books on a shelf by the bed, cd's in a stack against the shelf and small keepsakes and pictures pinned to a cork board. Scarves, belts and hats hung from a ceiling fan, and a smaller fan stood plugged in by the desk. Craft supplies was threwn in a large box and other square cubby boxes lined the underside of the bed and in a nine square shelf. Under the desk were more journals and folders, all decorative and organized.

"You mind if we look around for a few minutes? We are just going to look for anything that might help tell us something about what happened." Morgan told them.

"Yeah, if it'll help figure this out, I guess it's ok." Karla said nodding to her husband.

I moved to the desk and carefully began looking through Jean's things.

"Hunny, it's 10:45, if I don't leave now you know how my boss'll be." We heard George whisper, "you'll be ok?" He asked willing to stay home if she needed.

"I'll be fine George," she answered kissing his cheek. "You should go."

Nodding he gave his wife a hug then left nodding to us in turn. Karla stood uncertain by the door for a moment, then decided to leave us alone in the room.

"I'll be just down the hall if you need anything, there's some bottled water in the fridge downstairs if you get thirsty." She looked tired and sad.

After she had left, we started to look more thourouly. Flipping through the journals under the desk I found that they were mostly sketch books, most unused, but four had many drawings and doodles covering their pages. A lot of the images were flowers, some had a photo taped beside it showing what she had drawn.

"Well, she likes flowers," I said moving on to the folders. In these I found tracing paper with a series of overlaying images. "Wow," I handed a few to Derek, "she was good."

"Yes she was," We talked in low voices, "there's some over here too, looks like she was working on coloring them in." He showed a clipboard with colored pencils on her bed.

Putting back the drawings, I stood and looked at the cork board. There were lots of Polaroid pictures and random things from different places she had visited. Taking the few pictures that had someone else in them with Jean, I handed them to Morgan then kneeled down to look inside the cubby drawers she had slid under her bed.

"These are either family, or those few friends she had,"Morgan said looking them over. He was now looking at the nine square shelf. Carefully pulling out one drawer at a time and examined the contents.

"Found anything else yet?" I asked, pausing. Before I pulled out the drawer closest to the head of the bed.

"No, not yet." He answered. Then out of curiosity he asked me a question. "Was your room like this as a teenager, Kate? It must have been full of stuff." He teased glancing over as I sat back on my heels. I stared at him for a moment.

"Not really, most of the stuff from the house was moved to a storage shed after daddy and James died, and I didn't have much to keep in my room." I knew my tone had changed, I also knew he would pick up on that, so I leaned forward to look through Jean's things.

"Where did you live after that happened?" He inquired.

My hand stopped just above the papers inside the drawer and I took a deep breath to calm myself.

"Let's just talk about this later, Derek, please," I asked trying to hide the desperate tone I took.

He looked at me with a look that held confusion and understanding and let the questions drop.

"Alright," he said; I knew he would bring it back up later, and we turned back to what we were doing.

I closed my eyes for a second then looked to see what these papers were. Some were story outlines, some were Marvel's Avengers fan fictions, a few which were checked off and marked posted. The drawer was filled with these, they looked to be just thrown in here. I reached to the bottom and felt a book. Curious, I lifted out all the papers and set them to the side, then stared at the black moleskine notebook underneath it all. Carefully I pulled it out and opened it.

"Hey Derek," I said flipping through the journal, "I think I've got something."

He joined me on the floor as I sat back and flipped to the last entry. I read the page then handed it to him. It was from the day before she went missing.

"She didn't have a boyfriend, at least one she had met." I said gravely.

He read the page then closed the book.

"She wrote that she had told Janie," he commented, we need to find out who Janie is."

We finished looking through the room, then gathered the few things we had found.

"Mrs. Dwight?" I called down the hall as we exited the room.

She came out of a room and came toward us.

"Did you find something?" She asked indicating the notebook, photos and few papers we held.

I glanced over at Morgan before answering, he nodded, "we think we might have found something to help us," I said reassuringly.

"We were wondering though, if any of these photos were of Janie, and if you are okay with us taking these with us," Derek added holding out the Polaroids.

Mrs. Dwight took them and held one out.

"This is Janie," she explained quietly, "and yes, if you think you need to take them you can."

"Thank you Mrs. Dwight, do you know where we can find her? We think it might be helpful to talk to her." I told her.

"I don't," she said shaking her head. A worried expression formed.

"Don't worry," Morgan said gently taking the photo, "we'll find her. Can you tell us who are in these other three photos?"

"They are my niece and nephews, Haley, and the twins, Sean and Fred," she explained, wringing her hands.

We asked a few more questions about Jean then decided it was time to leave.

"Thank you for your time," Derek said befor we stepped out the door, "we will do everything we can to get to the bottom of this."

"Thank you." Karla said then closed the door behind us.

Morgan snapped a pic of Janie and sent it to Pen, "hey hot stuff," he called, "I'm sending you a pic of Janie Ray, can you find her?"

"Of course I can sugar," Penelope answered in her usual flirty manner, "who is she?"

"She was Jean's friend, we got a lead."

"Ooh, go get em tiger, I'll send you the address."

"Yep you got it, baby girl. You're the best!"

"You know it."

Derek hung up the phone, and we climbed in the vehicle. Putting on our sunglasses, we waited a minute for the address. Getting it, we punched it into the gps and drove out to meet Janie. She was at work in a restaurant.

"No, I don't know who it was," Janie told us genuinely, after we found her, "she wouldn't tell me his name or where she was going. I tried to tell her it wasn't a good idea, but she made me promise I wouldn't tell. I wasn't in the state at the time, I was out visiting with family. I- I really don't know why I didn't tell anyone anything. I guess I just... I don't know." Janie choked up and wiped away the tears that threatened to fall.

Nodding gravely, I reached out a hand and rubbed her arm, "sometimes we don't tell people the things that we should after something happens," I told her, "this isn't your fault, and we will do everything we can to get to the bottom of this. We're sorry this happened."

"Thank you," Janie said, trying to smile, "Jean was always so nice, I wish I had been a better friend, maybe this wouldn't have happened."

"Thank you for your help," Morgan said after a moment. "If there is anything else you think of, here's our number." He handed her a card.

"I will," she slipped the card into her jeans pocket, "I need to get back to work," she told us spying her boss looking at her.

We left and Morgan updated Hotch after we climbed in the car. After he hung up, we sat in semi awkward silence for a few minutes.

"So, it's later now," Derek broke the silence pointedly.

I sighed, "yeah it is.." I said quietly.

"So are you gonna tell me?" He asked gently.

"I was sent to live with my dad's cousin," told him after a moment, staring at my hands.

"You didn't like it there," he said as a statement rather than a question, glancing over.

Quick, hot tears formed and I grimaced, "no, I hate him," I said barely above a whisper. "I'm glad that bastard's dead," the last part was more to myself than for him, but he got the point.

Morgan's brows drew together as he thought for a minute. I felt my anxiety creeping up and I slowed my breathing holding it back. I fiddled with the edge of my shirt, feeling a little claustrophobic. I really wanted out of the car.

"What did he do to you?" Morgan asked slowly, sensing how sensitive and painful the subject was.

My breath caught in my throat as a single tear fell from my eye. It was a good thing we were on a back road because I needed out of the car, now.

"Morgan pull over." My voice shaky and urgent.

Without hesitation he pulled tot he side of the road and switched off the motor. Fumbling with the seatbelt, I basically threw myself from the car, grasping the door as I fell to my knees on the ground. Derek moves quickly and squatted beside me, concern clear on his face. Knowing I couldn't hold back this attack any longer I tried to tell him what I could.

"Th-things, things you should n-never do to a c-chil-d." I managed to rasp before oxygen seemed to abandon me.

Morgan's heart clenched at the words. He didn't even want to imagine what all he had done to me. With new understanding and sympathy, he urgently tried to calm me down.

"Whoa, princess," he gathered me up in his arms, "c'mon, breathe, breathe for me."

I leaned into him knowing already this wouldn't be a long attack. I wasn't lost in the past, I was just panicking at the anticipation of my anxiety, (yeah I know panicking because I don't want to panic). Grounding myself, I forced myself to listen, look, smell, and feel. I heard birds, Derek, and myself, I saw the arms protectively holding me, grass, and the sky, I smelled Derek's cologne, the air and dirt, I felt my heart beat, my friend, and the ground. Gradually I steadied myself and took deep breaths, and my heart rate slowed. I allowed myself to stay in his grasp a moment longer relishing how I felt safe.

I stood and he followed.

"You okay?" He asked after I had wiped my face and sighed deeply, looking into my eyes.

I looked over at him and bit the inside of my bottom lip. I had to be honest with him, I owed him more than that.

"No.." I shook my head speaking softly. "It was bad Derek," tears rolled freely down my face, but thankfully I didn't feel like I was about to lose it.

"The things he did... I was with him until just before my sixteenth birthday. He drank himself to death." I didn't know what to say.

Searching for my words, Derek silently let me think.

"H-he... I've never had a boyfriend and i can't drink, it took me years to not flinch and jerk away when a man touched me, in any way. I broke Friday night.. well actually Saturday morning, but anyway... Hotch is the only person I had ever talked to about anything, and I'm not sure what would've happened if I hadn't called him. He was the first person I had ever told what happened to me. I don't know why I never told, it was stupid of me. I wanted to tell you Friday, but the words just wouldn't come out. I know you were worried and I thank you for that, and I don't know why really you all have been so nice to me, I don't know why you want to be my friends. I've done nothing but hide things since I first met you and I know I'm not good at having fun, and you guys have never been mean to me and I just feel so useless a-and like a failure..."

"Hey, hey, stop," Morgan cut me off gently, turning my head to look at him, "you're not stupid, or useless or a failure, yes you hid things, but so do we all. But sometimes our darkest secrets need to be acknowledged. Sometimes it does feel better to have it all out.. I had to learn that the hard way. I didn't really have much choice when my secret was let out. And you, you hit a low point, but you sought help and you let it out, you are strong. Stronger than most of us. You've held on to this and pushed people away, yes, but you found people you could trust and you started to let down those beautifully constructed walls. And yes trusting is scary. Maybe even terrifying. Letting people into your life after making sure they couldn't for so long must be incredibly difficult, but you're doing it. In spite of your anxiety, in spite of all the pain, you're pushing through. And yeah you almost pushed yourself a little far in the wrong direction, but you've turned around. You will be okay, because you're strong and smart and a success." He smiled reassuringly, wiping away the tears with his thumbs.

"Thank you," I whispered softly smiling back.

"C'mere," he held open his arms and motioned with his head.

With a teary chuckle I accepted the hug, wrapping my arms around his torso, I could hear his heart and I didn't want to let go. He held me tightly before letting go, saying we should get going. I agreed and we climbed back into the car, feeling better and putting our minds back to the case at hand. Leaning my head back, I tried to keep my eyes open. I always got sleepy after a good cry. Propping up my head with my hand holding the seatbelt I unsuccessfully fought sleep.

Morgan smiled when he looked over and saw I had fallen asleep. But the smile faded a little as his mind flowed back to what I had told him. He hated that I had to go through that. He hated how bad it obviously had gotten. And part of him wondered what all had happened to me...