(Hey guys! Can I just start by saying that I should be doing lots of things. I should be reading a book for my Acting Technique's class. I should be working on my sonnet and monologue for my Shakespeare class. I should be watching a film for my Actor's movement class. Hell, I should be putting away my laundry. HOWEVER, instead of doing any of that, I wrote this chapter and watched more Criminal Minds. So please do me a favor and help me justify that decision by taking a few seconds to leave a review. Lots of love. Jordo.)

"The best way of keeping a secret is to pretend there isn't one." Margaret Atwood

"JJ… you look awful." I look up from the folder on my desk to see Derek and Emily standing in my doorway. Three weeks have passed since the night at the diner. Three weeks and ten pounds. The scale this morning had read 120. Pleasure had rushed through my veins but it was quickly eclipsed by exhaustion. Pure exhaustion that I could feel in every muscle, every tendon. Looking into the mirror, I could see dark bags under my eyes. But worse than that was what else I could see in the mirror. 120 was my goal weight, it was supposed to be my ending point. But looking at my body in the mirror I could only see failure. My pale cheeks were chubby, my waist was thick with fat spilling over the waistband of my shorts. Stepping back to see my lower half, I cringe at the sight of my thighs pressed against each other, huge and immobile. Even my ankles seemed swollen and gross. How could this be happening? Why wasn't I thin yet?

I force myself to meet Morgan's concerned eyes. "Wow Morgan. You really know how to make a girl feel good."

Emily steps forward. "No seriously, JJ. You don't look good. Are you feeling okay? You look sick."

I shuffle my papers around. "I'm fine guys. Just tired."

"No… I am just tired. Morgan's tired. We are all tired. You're pale, kind of shaky… Do you need to take a day? I'm sure Hotch would be okay with you heading home." Emily sits on the edge of my desk.

I clear my throat. "I'm okay. It's just been-" I stand up from my desk and feel a wave of dizziness. The world swims in front of me and I put my palms down on the desk, trying to steady myself. Instantly I can feel both of my colleagues beside me, Emily's hand against my lower back. "-been a long week." I finish lamely. I squeeze my eyes shut, and take a few shaky breaths trying to steady myself.

"JJ, you are obviously not okay-" Morgan starts but I force myself to stand up straight and cut him off.

"I said I'm fine. Drop it." I gather the files and walk out of my office, making sure to not look either of them in the eyes as I go.

I lock myself in a rarely used bathroom next to a stairwell. My heart is pounding and I soak a paper towel in water, placing it on the back of my neck. My body is shaking and try to calm down but I can't. Looking into the mirror, I can see that the bags under my eyes look even darker than they did this morning. I hadn't lied to Em and Morgan. I was tired. Last night I had run three miles, until the stitch in my side felt like my very soul was ripping in two. Add that to the 648 calories that I had consumed during the day, and I was so fucking tired. 1200 calories a day had been working for a while, but it wasn't enough. I wasn't losing enough, or fast enough. So I had restricted my food further, and began exercising more. And it was working. But at 120 pounds all I could see was how far I had to go. I smooth my hair back and straighten my clothes and head back to my office, making sure to avoid walking through the pen, past my coworkers' desks.

Once at my own desk, I immerse myself in work. As the hours pass, my stomach begins to ache with hunger. It seems as though it's been hours since my breakfast of coffee and two hard boiled eggs. No creamer now, no sugar. Just black coffee and the two eggs, 142 calories. I ignore the pain and push through it, guzzling water from my water bottle and punishing myself with images of suffering and hate. It's almost three when I receive the file for a string of murders in Seattle. Reading through the police officer's statement, I knew that we would be headed there within the hour. I drain my water bottle and print the email along with the photos before placing them in a file and heading to Hotch's office.

We are on the plane within thirty minutes of the briefing. I take care to sit apart from Emily. We bounce ideas back and forth, hypothesizing on what the unsub wants, why he's choosing these particular victims, and what his endgame is. With two hours left until we land, we fall into silence, each of us concentrating on the file in front of us.

Once in Seattle, we are set up in a conference room. Hotch sends Emily and Morgan to canvass the latest discovery site, indicating that he and Rossi will go to the M.E.'s office to see what could be discovered from the bodies of the dead women. This left Reid and I at the police station, him providing a geological profile, me cross referencing witness statements. We sit in silence at the table pouring over our respective paperwork.

"They didn't mean to upset you, y'know."

"What?"

Reid looks up from his map. "Morgan. Emily. They didn't mean to upset you this morning. They're just concerned."

"Well I appreciate their concern, but I am fine. I'm tired. It's an occupational hazard."

"It's not just them. I'm worried about you, too. You're pale, irritable, secretive. Not to mention you've recently lost weight. JJ, you can talk to me. About anything. I can keep a secret… Especially if you're in trouble."

I furrow my eyebrows at him, feeling defensive. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Jayje, I know addiction when I see it. You can talk to me."

I can't help but feel relief that Reid doesn't actually know. "Spence, I am not an addict."

"I beg to differ."

"I am not addicted to anything. I'm not using drugs, I'm not drinking alcohol, I haven't even had a single glass of wine in weeks, maybe even months. I am fine."

"Okay so it's not addiction. But you're not fine. I can see it. We all can."

I can feel anger and panic begin to course through my bloodstream. "Oh, you can all see it? What, do you sit around and talk about me?"

"What no, we just-"

"I am fine, Reid. I am fine, I have been fine, and I will be fine. So how about instead of you and Morgan and Emily examining my life and my problems you all focus on this case and try to figure out how to catch the son of a bitch killing women all over the city, okay?"

Spence looks back at me, mouth slightly agape with shock. I can't remember ever speaking to him like this, but I can't help it. How dare they sit around talking about me and my problems? But as angry as I am at them, I'm more angry at myself. How could I be so transparent? I need to pull myself together before everyone realizes how close I am to falling apart.

(Tell me what you thought! Review!)