Disclaimer: Criminal Minds belongs to ABC and CBS. Not me. I am just borrowing the characters for a little bit.

Waiting

Police Station,

Freehold, New Jersey

"Wait! Wait!" Reid leaned close to the typed up stories, eyes flicking between them and the victims they were written on. "I think… I have an idea."

"Something we can build a profile on?" Prentiss asked.

"What you got, Reid?" Morgan leaned forward.

"Christopher slammed his fist against the tile wall, feeling some of them come lose. One flew up and scratched his cheek. He hit the wall, over and over, until the tiles fell to the floor. Dust covered his dark hair, his dark eyes clenched shut.

"His broad body shuddered with suppressed sobs. He had hurt Chloe, gotten her sent away. He was never going to hold her in his arms again."

The rest of the team blinked.

Reid yanked the story down and highlighted dark hair, dark eyes, broad body, then jabbed the other end of the pen at the victim's pre-mortem photo. "It's just general descriptions but he fits. And listen…

"Chloe cried silently, trying to suppress the sighs and sobs. She didn't want to wake Zoë with her crying and desperately wished that she could get up and wander the halls of the family manor.

"But that life was far behind her now and she had no where to go to calm the storm in her heart and mind. Instead, she bowed her head, her dark red hair covering her face as tears slipped down her porcelain cheeks."

Morgan stood up and pointed at Danielle Lear's picture. "Red hair, pale complexion."

"The Unsub is matching his characters to the victims," Reid said.

"So the clue is in the writing." Rossi leaned back in his chair.

"Hypergraphia!"

"And for the rest of us?"

Reid hands fluttered around him. "It's a compulsive urge to write. Hypergraphia is associated with manic-depressive disorder and schizophrenia and is sometimes called the Midnight Disease. The Unsub is driven to write."

Hotch leaned his elbows against the conference table. "What does this tell us?"

Prentiss glanced at the photos tacked to the board. "Why would he pick victims that look like his characters? And why write in blood?"

Morgan sat back in his chair, trying to clear his mind. His eyes darted to the windows as Detective Marriott walked in and shed her coat. She glanced up at the conference room.

The boy wasn't with her.

His phone buzzed and he jumped to answer it. "Morgan."

"Hey, Sweet Stuff."

"Hey, Mama. What you have for us?" He put her on speaker.

"Not a whole lot, I'm afraid. There doesn't appear to be a connection between the victims, other than they all work at the mall."

"Garcia," Reid leaned over. "Can you go back and see if anyone with manic-depressive disorder or schizophrenia was released before the first victim?"

"Manic-depressive?"

"Bipolar."

"Why not just say that?" she chuckled. "Anything else?"

"See if the file mentions Hypergraphia."

"Hyper-whatia?"

"Hypergraphia, the compulsive desire to write."

"Oh. Sure thing, Reid."

"Thanks, Mama." Morgan hung up. "I need more coffee. Anyone else?"

"I'll get my own." Reid got up and went to the station's break room. Morgan followed at a slower pace, stopping at Detective Marriott's desk.

"Need something, Agent?"

"Morgan or Derek, please."

She smiled and tipped her head up. "Can I help you, Morgan?"

"I just need a break. Get away for a few minutes."

"Got a profile for me?"

"Just about." He leaned against her desk. "Where's your boy?"

"Tyler? He's at day care. My mother will bring him by later."

"What does the father do?"

"I hope he's rotting in jail."

Morgan winced. "Sorry. I stepped in that one."

She shrugged. "Most everyone here knows the story. I was drugged and raped about four years ago. We got him behind bars though." She sighed. "He asked about his dad last night."

"Sorry."

"Not your fault. Well, actually, I could blame it on you."

"How?"

"Tyler noticed that you look the same as him."

Morgan nodded. "Yeah, I'm mixed."

Joy smiled. "Next time he sees you, Tyler's probably going to work up the courage to talk to you."

He laughed. "All right."

"Just a warning, he talks at warp speed."

"I know how to translate that." He nodded towards Reid, pouring creamer and sugar in his coffee.

She smiled again. "Are you supposed to be out this long?"

"Not really."

She gently pushed him. "Go get your coffee. We'll probably talk later."

Morgan waved and went for his black coffee. Detective Scott leaned against the counter. "Don't mess with her."

"Excuse me," Morgan stared at the broad detective.

"Don't… Just don't mess with Joy. She's been through enough."

"Man, I'm just being friendly."

"Morgan?" Reid fidgeted.

"Let's go, kid."

Joy watched the agents walk back to the conference room and glared at Craig. He shrugged and held up his hands. She rolled her eyes and turned back to her desk, checking over the rotation that was circling the Freehold Raceway Mall parking lot. Two cop cars and multiple mall security cars.

Hopefully, they would catch the Unsub before someone else died.