Sorry for the delay, it's finals season here at college.

Chapter 10

Rossi shivered slightly on a dewy bench, and pulled his wrinkled suit jacket closer around his shoulders. He gazed over the manicured grounds outside the hospital, lackadaisically looking for someone that looked less tired than himself. The early morning serenity was occasionally punctured by a wailing siren, and Rossi was only reminded of the unceasing tragedy that was present in the world. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps broke into his sleepy fog.

"What do you want?" He said, turning around. Expecting Hotch or Reid, he was surprised to find Morgan holding up his hands defensively.

"Relax, Rossi. I just came to see if you wanted company."

"I don't," Rossi said, turning back around and folding his arms.

"Talk to me, Rossi. This case has everyone upset." Morgan's dark eyes softened. "You feel guilty. I get it. You brought her in to join us; you were with her when she was taken. You can question everything you did, and every second, but you can't change anything that you've done."

"That's not it, Morgan." His voice wavered, and this scared Morgan. He had never seen Rossi so shaken up. "I teach," he said simply. "I mentored her, taught her everything I know about victims, and now she's one too. I couldn't teach her enough."

"It wasn't your job to teach her about this. She's not a profiler, Rossi. She noticed the signs, it was just too late." He sat down on the edge of the bench, sitting on the edge so he could watch the older man.

"I can't teach them everything." He looked defeated. "I don't know everything. Everyday, someone comes up with a new evil for us to counter. And sometimes, we can't until it's too late. It was too late for her, Derek. We saved her, but she's broken. And the other men, what can we do for them? What justice is it that their killer is dead?"

Morgan leaned back into the damp bench, now following Rossi's gaze across the empty horizon. "We do everything we can, and when that isn't enough, we try to do more. We change just like they do Rossi. We get smarter, we add more to ourselves. We try to prevent people from getting hurt, but we also know how to heal. Cailyn's not going to be broken for long. She's going to get over it, and move on."

Rossi frowned, a mixture of guilt and helplessness still searing through his veins. He stared brazenly into Morgan's eyes. "But move on to where?"

Reid tucked a damp strand of hair behind Cailyn's delicate ear. The doctors had cautiously declared Cailyn out of the woods, and had given the two some time alone. He still held her hand, and glanced at it awkwardly. "Is…is this alright?" She nodded and smiled.

"Will you stay with me?"

"O-of course," Reid stammered. "How are you feeling?"

"Can't complain!" She laughed. "Other than…well, you know."

"Are you okay?"

"Spencer, you just as asked me that….Oh. you mean…emotionally. I…" Her eyes were suddenly frantic, searching for something in her mind. "I don't know if I can answer that." She unconsciously touched the bandage at her neck, gently caressing the rough cotton. "I will be I'm sure. Right now…I's not sure."

"Do you want to talk about it? Or I could get JJ, or Blake, or Rossi."

"No time like the present." She said weakly, not able to hide her fear.

"Cailyn?" She forced himself to look into his eyes, and was pulled in by their gentle safety. "We got him. Peter's dead." She shivered at the name, and at the memories of the dark room. "Cailyn, you're safe now."

"Alright. So I just…talk?" He nodded, scooting his chair closer. He still held her hand, and she took comfort in the unyielding warmth and security. "I was so confused at first. I couldn't figure out why he had taken me, or where I was, or what was happening. We were driving…he kept talking…he was taunting me, talking to me like I was stupid. Spencer, I was so scared."

He sat down on the edge of her bed, careful to avoid her leg. "You're doing amazing Cailyn. I know it's hard." His voice was almost a whisper, but the urgency that coursed through it spurred her to continue.

"He told me that he killed his brother, for money. I thought he was rich…"

"He was, at one point, but his company was tanking."

"Oh." They sat in silence, but Reid didn't push her to continue. She closed her eyes and Reid stood up, sure that she had fallen asleep again.

"When he knocked me out with his gun, I woke up in the room. It was freezing, and he was just pacing. The knife…he had it with him the whole time. He laughed, like he was enjoying it."

"He was a psychopath, Cailyn. I don't think I need to tell you what that means."

"He enjoyed it." She said flatly. "I could tell. When…when he stabbed me, he just left the knife there, and watched me." Both of their eyes shot to her leg, still hidden underneath the blankets. "When he pulled it out…it was worse than when it went it. It was like…and electric charge through my leg." Her voice shook, and Reid sympathized with her—he remembered the last time he was tortured. He knew what it was like, watching someone as they watched you die. She took a deep, shuddering breath. "I fell onto my side, and he pulled me up…He was going to do it again…that's when we heard the sirens. When he pulled me up, he…"Her voice was disgusted. "He was turned on." She closed her eyes, turning her face slightly away in shame.

Reid didn't say anything, just sat and stroked her hand. Eventually, her eyelids closed, and her breathing evened. Reid slowly lowered himself next to her still, battered form on the bed. When Hotch poked his head in an hour later, the two were fast asleep on the bed, still holding hands.