Rossi moved closer to the bed and the unsavory little item nestled beside Hotch's cell.

He was glad he carried more than one set of gloves with him. He planned on collecting the used condom and discarding the gloves that touched it into the same evidence bag. Pocketing Prentiss's phone, he shook out one of the bags and, lip curling in distaste, picked up the little, latex treat the unsub had set out for them to find. And hesitated. His brow furrowed. He brought the limp, gummy condom closer to his nose, sniffing.

"Jeeeeeeez, Rossi! Bag it already!" Reid's look of disgust said he didn't think this was an appropriate time to turn bloodhound.

"No…wait…" Dave peered at the condom with narrowed eyes. "This might be a little too personal, kid, but…have you ever known a guy to fill one of these up that much?" He turned, extending the rubber toward his teammate.

Reid flinched backward, lips compressed into a disapproving line. "I'm not exactly a connoisseur of birth control devices, Rossi. And I really don't want to stick my nose in another man's…you know…"

"But that's just it. I don't think it is." The older agent squeezed the reservoir at the tip of the condom, inspecting the texture of its contents. Dangling the little trophy, he turned on his heel and headed back toward the bathroom.

Reid retrieved Hotch's phone, checking for messages or clues of any kind as he followed Rossi at a slower, less enthusiastic pace. Spencer was a little reluctant to examine the condom's load. He was also making an effort to stay away from speculation about how his colleague came to be such an expert on such matters.

Before he reached the bathroom door he heard Dave's triumphant exclamation.

"I knew it!"

Reid turned the corner to see Rossi at the marble-topped counter, sniffing at a creamy, pale droplet on the gloved tip of one finger. The younger agent held back. He didn't want whatever it was shoved in his face so he could give it a smell, too.

"Hand lotion, kid. She filled the condom with hand lotion. I thought it was weird that the only thing on the counter when I was in here last time was that." He motioned toward a bottle labeled 'cocoa butter and aloe body lotion.'

Dave shook his head, frowning. "What the hell kind of game is she playing?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Prentiss and Morgan continued in their efforts to grant unconscious Hotch some dignity by not staring at his nakedness.

Various sounds came from whatever lay beyond the door through which Megan had disappeared. After a while, they heard what could only be another cork popping its way free of yet another bottle of the woman's pricey champagne. Footsteps approached.

Megan stepped through the door, freshened drink in hand. She'd slipped a light sweater over her shoulders. It's dainty, embroidered rosebuds looked incongruous covering the black lace of her lingerie. Under one arm she carried a thick book. Her eyes went immediately to the agents bound to their chairs. She was hoping to surprise them as they stared at their boss's genitals. It would mean their previous aversion had been an act for her benefit.

Her mouth puckered in a sour, little moue. They were both studiously avoiding what Megan considered a fascinating view. But who knows? They might have taken a good, long look while I was gone.

She curled down into her place beside Hotch, tipping her head to one side as she appraised him. "You two really are missing a nice show, you know."

"You're sick." Prentiss filled the words with contempt.

"Emily." A soft cautioning from Morgan. All it did was elicit a bitter laugh from the female agent.

"Well, she is. And she's so keen on the truth…aren't you, honey? I'm sure you're not so two-faced that you'd want me to just tell the truth about Hotch, and not do the same about you? Would you? Huh?" Prentiss's jeering tone made Derek's stomach do a nervous, little flip.

It made Megan's eyes narrow. She sipped champagne and watched her captives. "Look at me."

"No." Emily raised her chin, defiant…staring at the ceiling.

Morgan could feel this was turning into some kind of feminine showdown. He was glad to take a position out of the direct line of fire. But he was witness to the onslaught. And he was worried about what Prentiss might bring down on them.

"Look. At. Me!"

"Go to hell. If you're smart enough to find the way…stupid bitch."

"Stop it! Look at me!"

Instead, Morgan and Prentiss looked at each other. Megan's shrill demand sounded like a fretful child on the verge of tears. It didn't jive with the image she'd been cultivating of a seductive murderess.

"Stop ignoring me!" It was a child's wail, not an unsub's demand.

Prentiss began to put some things together. The girlish, little sweater. The penchant for games. More…the need to win at games, to best the other players. The infantile cries for attention. Searching the depths of Morgan's dark eyes, Emily hoped he'd made the same connection. Her voice was firm when she spoke.

"If you want us to pay attention, then act like an adult. Otherwise, go play by yourself." Prentiss lifted her chin even higher, resting her gaze on the ceiling almost directly overhead. She heard rustling and muttering…a few grunts of effort.

"Okay. Fine. You can look now." Sullen resentment in every word.

In cautious, slow increments Emily and Morgan brought their eyes to bear on Hotch. Megan had pulled his pants up. She'd done that much, yet they still gaped open, as did his belt. But he wasn't exposed anymore.

The unsub was in full pout mode. Bottom lip thrust out. Fists clenched. But her eyes were infinitely sad. It sounded so gentle when she said, "I could kill you, you know. All three of you."

"But then you'd be all alone again. And where's the fun in that?" Morgan had abandoned his bad cop persona. He thought he saw some of the building blocks from which Megan was made. The most damaged ones, upon which the entire structure of her psyche teetered in precarious balance, were at the foundation. Her childhood. A Daddy who failed her. She's punishing all these men when she's really hitting back at the only one she can't free herself from. He'll always be her father.

Derek looked at Hotch's peaceful face. They'd never really talked about it, but he was pretty sure he knew things about the Unit Chief's past that could establish a bond with their unsub. Hell, if I tell it right, they'll practically sing to her! Make her think she's found a soulmate.

He gave Prentiss a sidelong look. He was also sure that Hotch would prefer to keep his personal life and any dirty, little secrets he guarded private.

Morgan swallowed his burgeoning anxiety. In the end he would be no better than Megan. She'd exposed Hotch's body.

But Derek was about to expose the man's heart and soul.