A/N: Chapter 4, thankyou to everyone who has reviewed or added the story to their alert list please continue to do so. As Always Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds, CBS does! I do own Cameron Mansfield.

The team was deafly silent and desperately trying to think of what to do next. It was a few minutes before Cameron realized the team was taking turns looking at her, expecting her to say something.
She grimaced and took a deep breath, "I'm sorry guys, I just… I'm not sure what we should do next." She messaged her temples and shut her eyes. "Just give me a minute, okay?" She stood up and walked out of the room.

"Hotch, what's up with her?" Morgan asked. Hotch looked towards to door and held up his hands unknowingly.

Morgan turned his attention to Reid, "How about you Reid, any idea what's going on there?" He shook his head and glared at Morgan. I'm not a mind reader; I've no idea where she'd go. He really didn't want anymore attention drawn to himself and he was starting to feel crabby and nauseous. It was about the time that withdrawal would start setting in.

J.J. tried to get back on track so they could focus on the case, "Why would he completely change his MO?" she asked flipping through the case folder.

"Like Emily said, maybe he has a new purpose for the children." Morgan reinstated.

"Maybe the pictures aren't working for him anymore." Reid spoke up, "Maybe he's looking for a different type of pleasure."

"Let's hope not," Cameron said as she reentered the room, "if he can't control his sexual urges, who's to say how long he'll be able to control any homicidal urges he has." Cameron finished grimly taking a nervous sip from her apple juice.

Her sudden juice break elicited several strange looks from the team and she blankly said, "I don't think as well when my blood sugar's low."

They seemed to hit a road block, they couldn't really form a standard profile. With nothing real to go on, the team was relieved to hear the office phone ring, Hotch spoke to the officer on the other end for a few minutes and then hung up. "The police department is out canvassing, one person said something about a man, a coworker, who fit this description. His name is John Harshmalo. Emily, you and I will go talk to him."

"We're assuming he's still around." Emily added.

"Let's hope so," Hotch turned to Morgan, "Call Garcia, have her run a background check for sexual offenders in the area, make sure to check outside of the town."

"I'm on it." Morgan said grabbing his phone on the way out of the station.

"J.J. I need you to give a brief press conference in the Town Hall. Make sure you put a lot of heat on the guy, turn the town against him. If he's as cowardly as we think he may just let her go to avoid the police."

J.J. nodded and made a series of quick notes to herself. Hotch turned to Reid and Cameron, "You two met with Clarissa's family, you know the most about this girl. Work on victimology, try to find a reason for this man to keep this girl in particular, maybe a specific connection."

"Of course, absolutely." Cameron assured looking at Reid, "We'll start looking right away."

Hotch, Emily and J.J. left to the room with a purpose, to interview suspects and inform the town. Cameron and Reid didn't know what to do, so they just stared at the white board of pictures and information. They took turns flipping through notes and reading the case file and writing down, then scratching out their ideas.

About half an hour had passed and all they'd accomplished was a few seating changes and a couple pages of scribbled out notes.

"We're missing something," Cameron said standing up and walking past the white board, "There has to be something here we can't see." She turned to where Reid had been sitting for 15 minutes, he had moved minimally and he was crouched over the table like he was trying to keep himself warm. �

"How are we supposed to find it?" Reid asked, absently running his hands up and down his legs for warmth. "We don't have a starting point." He remembered why he hadn't been talking, he felt nauseous. It felt like he was producing a massive amount of saliva, something that always happen to him before he vomited. He took a deep, shuddering breath.

"God, are you okay?" He shook his head weakly. Cameron snapped into action and she walked over to Reid. She put a hand on his shoulder. "You're really pale."

"I'll be fine." He smiled weakly and attempted to stand up.

"Don't even think about it, sit back down." She ordered.

"Cameron, I'm fine. I don't need to sit down." He was starting to feel light headed again.

"Listen, I don't want to have to tie you down, but I will. Now sit." She gently took hold of his wrist, as he lowered himself back into the chair. His pulse seemed faster then it should be and he started shivering again.

"Are you satisfied?" He felt like crap, but the last thing he wanted was to drag more people, especially her, into his mess.

She shook her head and with a sigh, pressed her lips lightly to his forehead. Her long hair fell in his face, it smelled like honey and raspberries. He felt his heart start racing wildly and he prayed she couldn't feel it pounding on his ribcage.

"Well it doesn't feel like you have a fever." She said after she removed her lips from his forehead, he was a little clammy though. She suspected that she knew why he took ill so suddenly. "How are you feeling?"

She took notice of the expression on his face, "Don't look so violated!" She smiled, "The lips are very sensitive to temperature. It's what I always did with—" she stopped herself. "It's just what I've always done."

He smiled in bemusement at this woman, "I think I'm fine, a little tired maybe and have you noticed how cold it is in here?"

She stood beside him, propped up against the table, "I don't think that's what it is."

He pressed his lips tightly and gave her a look. She cleared her throat, "Fine, fine, I get the message. You know what? I'm cold too. Think I'm allowed to turn up the thermostat?"

He gestured towards the thermostat, "Go for it."

'Rub my magic lamp and your three wishes are my command.' Garcia chirped when she answered Morgan's phone call.

"Hey Baby Angel, are you sure that's what you want me to rub?" Morgan said mischievously.

She gasped, 'Don't tease me! You know I can't refuse an offer like that.'

"Alright now, let's get down to business. I need you to run a search on sexual offenders in the area. It's a small town so try and focus on other towns in the area."

'Your wish is my command. Any specific types of crimes you want me to look for?' Garcia asked as she twirled a pink pen in her fingers.

"No, go as broad as possible. We have no idea what this offender is doing anymore."

Hotch and Emily stood towards the back of the factory, shouting over the noise. "You think he's still here?" Emily asked with her fingers in her ears.
"The foreman thinks so. If he's still here, he's probably not our guy though." Hotch yelled through the grinding of metal.

A tall, thin, man with grey hair and wire glasses walked over to them. "John Harshmalo?" Hotch asked.

The man took his eyes off the ground, "Uh yeah, the manager said you wanted to see me."

Emily looked at him, "We need you to account for your whereabouts at the following times: 7:40 am to 9:20 am on Friday January 18, 3:30 pm..."

The man looked at Emily awkwardly, "I work from eight to four everyday, it takes me 45 minutes to get to work." He looked quickly at Hotch. "I've punched in on time everyday and haven't missed a day of work since last winter. You can check with him." He pointed to the foreman.

Hotch and Emily looked at each other, they had no reason to consider him as a suspect anymore. "You can go back to work." Hotch said. "Thank you for your time."

As John Harshmalo walked away, Emily sighed, "Looks like another dead end sir."

J.J. stood at the podium in the Town Hall, she was speaking to the three stations that showed up.

"This man is a coward, if you passed him on the street he would look away. He takes children because he's too afraid of people his own size." She stretched the truth to help shape people's opinion of this bastard.

"This man is probably about 30-35 with absolutely no people skills. Be on the lookout for a van in poor condition. He probably doesn't have a steady job and may live of a government check." J.J. looked up from her notes and looked directly at the cameras. "If the town works in accordance with the FBI we can catch this man and put him away. Be aware of anyone who fits this description. Let's get Clarissa Strauss back to her parents."

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Inside their family home the Strauss' sat in front of the TV holding onto each others hands. Mr. Strauss closed his eyes, Ms. Strauss did too. Their eyes filled with tears while they whispered the Lord's Prayer, simply praying for their daughter to be returned.

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Cameron walked back into the small back room of the police station with two coffees. Reid was scanning to board with his eyes waiting for something to pop out at him. Cameron stood beside him silently, she frowned at the bored and handed him a hot coffee. "We both know this is crazy," she said matter-of-factly, taking a sip of her coffee. "He hasn't given us anything, we have five living victims who saw his face. But we have nothing that would help us find him. It's insane."

Reid eyes lit up and his mind began to race. Something she'd said had given him an idea.

She continued her one sided conversation, "Let's hope Garcia found Morgan something helpful. Then maybe we'll—"

"Stop talking for a second." Reid interrupted, "Please," he quickly added, "You just made me think of something."

Cameron looked at him curiously, "Well? Spill it Spence, the suspense is killing me."

He turned away from the bored and looked at her, "Did you know that something like 26.2 percent of adults in the United States has a diagnosed psychiatric condition?"

"No… I didn't. But I also didn't know that you would say that off the top of your head," her eyes wide and bewildered. "It doesn't matter anyways, someone who is psychotic wouldn't have been able operate as efficiently as he has."

"First, I didn't say he was psychotic."

"Alright, I see your point. But I still don't understand where you're going." Cameron rubbed her eyes and waited for him to continue.

"Most psychiatric diseases are at the very least treatable. You have mood stabilizers, therapists, clinical trials, ser—" Reid's words raced to keep up with his mind.

"Okay, I get it. So you're saying we're looking for someone with a psychiatric condition…" Cameron waited for him to finish.

"Who was receiving effective treatment." Reid finished then paused. "But what if he stopped his treatment?"

Cameron's face lit up, "He's getting better on the meds, he goes off of them, he gets worse, and then he snaps."

Reid nodded enthusiastically, "Exactly, and the meds probably weren't prescribed for his sexual urges."

"So the illness isn't why he's abducting children, he's a pedophile with or without treatment." Cameron added.

"All the meds did was keep him stable enough to return the children. Until he stopped using them, until he took Clarissa Strauss."

"I knew you were in the BAU for a reason." Cameron said with a grin.

Reid put his hands in his pockets, "You think you can call Hotch and tell him our theory?"

"Uh huh, we should also call Morgan. Ask him if Garcia can get us the names and addresses of any psychiatric facilities in the area. And we'll need a warrant for the records. I'll call a judge." She looked at the wall clock it was quarter to five. "If we hurry we can probably get the records before everyone leaves."

Reid walked over to his messenger bag and pulled out his cell to call Morgan.

Cameron pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, "Reid, what's Hotch's number?"

He quickly rattled off the number before Morgan picked up on the other end.

She dialed Hotch's number while Reid talked to Morgan, who talked to Garcia, who was typing into a search engine all the way back in Quantico.

'Hotchner.'

Cameron rolled her eyes, what a way to answer the phone.

"Who is this?"

She shook her head, "Aaron, it's me, Cameron."

'Oh, sorry about that Cameron. Did you come up with anything on victimology?'

"No, nothing on victimology, but Reid came up with a theory about our perp. Based on his behavior we think he might be someone with a psychiatric condition who recently stopped taking his meds. Reid's on the phone with Morgan right now getting the locations of nearby psychiatric clinics. We're going to try and get a hold of the records, maybe get some potential suspects."

'Okay, good work guys. Malcolm and the officers are on their way back. J.J., Prentiss and I are going to grab a quick bite to eat. When we get back we'll update the everyone. You call us as soon as you come across someone that fits the profile and we'll track them down.'

Reid was jotting down information from Morgan who was at the library in town because the police station didn't have an internet connection.

"Okay, will do. I have to go, but Morgan should be back soon." Cameron hung up the phone and quickly scribbled a note for Charlie Malcolm telling him she was borrowing his personal car for the case and promised to reimburse him for the gas. She grabbed his keys out of his top desk drawer.

Reid snapped his cell phone shut, "Morgan found one clinic and two hospitals in neighboring areas that treat psychiatric patients." He grabbed their coats off the back of their chairs.

Cameron took her coat, "Thanks." They headed out the door of the station and it was already pretty dark outside. She pointed to Charlie's car, "It's the black one."

She hopped into the driver's side and Reid got in beside her. They sat in silence for several minutes while she waited for the engine to warm up.

Reid stared quietly out the window while Cameron watched him intently. She hated to seeing someone is such bad shape, though he did his best to cover it up. She knew he was going through hell, she understood that. But she swore that each time he smiled there was the hope for recovery.

She resisted the urge to tell him that she was going to help him. She wanted to comfort him and let him know that she would help him get better. But she knew that it would be inappropriate in the situation. She shook herself back to reality, remembering that she had a case to solve. She started driving to the first clinic.

Reid was starting to feel antsy and car sick, he was not in the mood to go for a long drive.

Cameron turned away from the road quickly, "Are you alright?" Reid remained completely silent.

She frowned and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

Reid squinted at nothing, "What are you trying to avoid?" His tone sounded caustic to her.

"I'm sorry?"

"Your presence here isn't logical. People don't just investigate potential cases for their old friends when they haven't worked in law enforcement for five years."

"Spencer, I know this probably goes against everything you've ever learned, but some things cannot be explained logically."

Reid turned his head, "Why'd you leave your old job?"

Cameron took a deep breath, she didn't want to get mad at him. He was sick and that's why he was acting this way. "Sometimes people just burn out, it happens."

Reid rolled his eyes, "Sure."

Cameron turned indignant, "Hey, do me a favor? Stop pretending like you know me."

Reid smirked, "I'm a profiler."

Cameron shook her head, "Whatever."

But Reid kept pushing, he was being uncharacteristically cruel now, "Something happened to you at your last job and it really screwed you up. Now, you won't work anywhere with high emotional stakes. Even if you wanted to, you're afraid to care about a job again. This case must really suck for you."

Cameron raised her voice a little, her eyes glued to the road, "Do you hear yourself? I know you think you're being a profiler, but you're really coming across as a jerk." She stared forwards, "You should cut the crap Reid. You're only insisting that I'm screwed up because you're every bit as damaged." Her expression was somber, "Takes one to know one."

Reid's face fell and he held his arms close to his body and looked down, he was emotionally and physically spent.

Normally Cameron was endlessly patient, but the last thing needed was someone profiling her and reminding her of how life had dealt her a crappy hand.

She was mad at him but she was madder at herself. He hadn't said anything that was untrue. But she was right too, the more vulnerable you are, the easier it is to sense other people's vulnerabilities.

Ever familiar with the mood swings of addicts, Cameron cleared her throat, "You know Spencer, for one it's worth, you're a damn good profiler."

He turned to face her, almost smiling. That's the thing about damaged people, no one could ever understand them better then their own kind.

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