By unspoken consent, the dynamic shifted.

Like the long-term partners they were, Prentiss and Morgan gradually changed tactics. If before they'd been bad cop/good cop, a strategy designed to let one of them promote a feeling of friendship with the unsub, now they were almost parental. Delicately so in Derek's case.

Being male was a distinct disadvantage in Megan-world.

Unfortunately, Morgan was the one with the plan. Unfortunately, Morgan was the one who had known Hotch longer and had noticed certain things. Things the Unit Chief would never speak of, but that a skilled profiler could guess by virtue of long association and careful observation. Derek just wished Prentiss weren't listening, too.

But this unsub was unpredictable. Her mood swings and casual mention of killing all of them, plus the fact that she'd already proven herself an efficient, prolific murderer, fueled Morgan's decision to do what he must to ensure he and his teammates survived.

What Megan did next, though, gave him hope his reasoning was sound and he was on the right track.

"That's better." Having her captives' full attention made the angry child inside Megan retreat. The wicked seductress could come forward now that she had an audience. Insinuating herself along Hotch's side, she propped the large book she'd brought in against his chest. "I wanna show y'all something."

Prentiss and Morgan exchanged glances, silent communication seemed to flow between them.

Now what?

Beats me…

Be ready for anything…

"Here it is." Megan flipped the book around, leaning it against Hotch's other side so the agents could see the page she'd selected…a maneuver that drew a soft groan from the Unit Chief as the heavy tome impacted his ribs.

"Hey. Careful. Don't hurt him." Emily strove for the voice of adult authority again.

Megan was too immersed in whatever she wanted to display to notice. She reached over the top of the book , tapping the page with a perfectly lacquered nail. "That one. Look at that."

The agents leaned closer, squinting. It was a photo album. The picture their unsub wanted them to take notice of showed a tall, smiling man in a dark suit. Next to him, leaning against his leg and only coming up to his knees, was a small, blonde girl. The expression on her face as she looked up was one of pure adoration. It wasn't hard to guess who the duo were.

"So?" With an unconcerned sniff, Prentiss sat back in her chair.

Megan rolled her eyes. "So he looks fine and upstanding and respectable, right? A good man. A very good man."

Morgan took a deep breath and began, in a gentle, persuasive voice that he hoped would reach this unsub. "Looks can be deceiving. You can't judge people by appearance. You know that. And Hotch…" He closed his eyes, but only for a moment. "Hotch knows that more than most. Especially when it comes to parents…to fathers."

Prentiss's head turned toward her partner. She sensed a strategy, but there was more to it than that. Derek's emotion wasn't an act. Puzzled, she listened as intently as the unsub seemed to be.

"What are you saying?" Megan looked down at the serene features of her plaything. "He is a father." The muscles of her face hardened. "Did he do something to his family? Is that why his wife left him?"

"No." Morgan's stomach rolled at what he considered his own betrayal of a man he genuinely liked. Even loved, on some level. "I'm saying Hotch was the child of a father who looked nice…like yours…but…wasn't. Like yours."

Prentiss's eyes were wide as she detected underlying truth in his words. Or, at least he believes them to be true.

Deep inside, Derek thought that, given a choice between being stripped naked and put on display, or having the scars of his childhood discussed…Hotch might choose the former.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Rossi had bagged the cocoa butter-filled condom, but he was sure analysis would prove him right. It had merely been a twisted joke courtesy of a very twisted woman.

"We have to find out more about her." Reid was surveying the spacious apartment and its elegant appointments. "Someone has to know what else she owns or where else she'd go. And she's got to be close by or have help."

"You're right." Rossi sighed. "She couldn't manage to move three agents anywhere distant by herself. She's a killer, but she's not a pro. She'd slip up and our guys would be on the lookout for their first opening. And they'd take it. But I don't think she has anyone helping her."

"Why not?" Reid began pulling his gloves off. They were done searching. There was nothing left to find here.

"She's a loner. I'd say her trust issues are so deeply rooted she doesn't have any close friends or even casual acquaintances she'd feel she could rely on. She's got her clients…and that's it."

Reid shook his head, genuinely mournful. "And here I thought I was the only one who didn't make friends."

"You've got friends," Rossi protested, draping an arm over the genius's shoulders as they headed for the door. "You've got us."

"Yeah, but I only know you guys because we work together. Otherwise, I'd probably never have met any of you."

Reid comparing his lonely life to that of a hooker was a bleak statement. Exiting the penthouse and heading for the private elevator, Dave tried to raise the younger man's spirits. "Doesn't mean we don't love ya, kid. No matter how it happened, you're one of us."

As the elevator doors slid shut, Dave planted a loud, Italianate kiss on Spencer's cheek.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Elsewhere, Morgan was feeling like the worst friend and teammate ever.

At least he'd captured Megan's interest. "Aaron's father abandoned him? Just walked away like he was washing his hands of a big mistake?" She sounded hopeful, but wary.

"No. His father stayed, but…but it would've been better if he'd left." Derek tried to still the sick feeling of betrayal building inside. "His father was a violent man. I think he took out whatever was eating him on his wife and kids. Hotch got hit. A lot."

"How do you know this?" The question came from Prentiss, but it fit. It added a layer of shameful secrecy that was believable.

Believable because it's true, Morgan thought. "I know because of some stuff he said. To an unsub. Hotch didn't know I was there; that I could hear."

"What unsub?" Emily thought knowing which one might explain a lot.

"His name was Vincent. Professional hit man. Took down hundreds of targets. All of his kills were men up to the end. The one woman he took out was his undoing. He got sloppy and upset and…" Morgan shrugged. "…we got him."

"He killed all men?" Megan had an avid look about her. Male mortality was something she could relate to.

"The point is, Vincent got into the business because his first kill was his own Dad. Guy was like Hotch's father. Beat his family. Vincent liked killing the bastard so much he made a career out of it. I have a feeling every job he did, he was still working off his hate and rage for his father."

Morgan took a deep breath, trying to release the tension in his chest from dragging his boss' personal business out into the light for all to see. "When they were taking Vincent away, Hotch said something almost meant as comforting, which seemed weird to me. That's why it caught my attention. He said that guys like Vincent who grew up in households filled with violence…well…it was no wonder some of them lived violent lives. Vincent caught that qualification: 'some.' He questioned it. And that's when Hotch looked like he'd been hit in the gut, but I think he felt sorry for that son of a bitch, so he explained. Said that some of them grow up to catch the violent ones."

Morgan's voice sounded weary. "Hotch was talking about himself. That's when I knew. And a lot of little things fell into place." Like how he freaks out when we're on cases where kids are hurt or killed. Like how he cries about them and tries to hide it. And the times he sits by himself afterwards on the way home and Rossi's the only one who can reach him.

"Oh, God." Prentiss closed her eyes. "Poor Hotch."

Megan looked down at the still features of her prey. She brushed some of his dark hair back from his forehead. "Now I'm kind of sorry I did this the way I did."

The tender look on her face gave Morgan hope. "Yeah? So, you'll let him go? Let us go?"

"No, you don't understand." She continued to explore Hotch's cheekbones with a delicate touch. "I mean I'm kind of sorry about what I used on him. You know…to make him be still."

Derek's and Emily's eyes made brief contact. "What do you mean? Why?"

Sighing, Megan sat back, taking a slow, deliberate sip of champagne. "Well, he's helpless, but he's not as out of it as he seems. He knows what's going on around him. He can hear us."

Morgan bent forward in his chair. He thought he might be sick.