Disclaimer: As always, I do not own Criminal Minds, just my OCs.

Expect trouble as an inevitable part of life and repeat to yourself, the most comforting words of all; this, too, shall pass. - Ann Landers

"Spencer, please, I can walk on my own!" Jemma insisted as she hobbled through the door of his apartment on her new set of crutches, pushing Reid away. "You're lucky I'm even using these damn crutches, which by the way aren't even big enough for me and will probably do more harm than good!"

Reid sighed and let Jemma limp ahead of him, into his small, tidy apartment. He had to admit, he had been lucky that Jemma had agreed to use crutches. The doctors had originally wanted her to use a wheelchair, but she had refused, arguing that her legs were not broken, merely sprained.

Jemma was trying her hardest to be strong, but it was clear to Reid, as much as he would like to deny it, that she was suffering more than just the physical pain of the nightmare she had lived through. She flinched at sudden movements and words that reminded her of the horror. In her sleep her emotions were free to come out and it pained Reid to see her in such pain.

Spencer set Jemma's small bag of belongings on the floor and waited for her to slip her shoes off before leading her to the couch.

"Um... stay here while I clean up, alright?" Reid said.

Jemma nodded and Reid disappeared down a dark hallway. Sitting in the dimly lit living room reminded Jemma of how her father had been murdered. She stared blankly at the wall until Spencer returned.

"The bedroom's all ready for you." he said.

"The bedroom?" Jemma repeated. "As in, you're giving up your bed for me?"

Reid nodded.

"Spencer, you don't have to do that."

"You're in enough pain as it is," Reid said. "My couch isn't the most comfortable to sleep on."

"I feel like I'm intruding." Jemma sighed.

"Don't worry about it, Jem." Reid said. "Just get some rest. I'll be right out here if you need anything."

Jemma nodded, grabbed her crutches and made her way to the bedroom. She struggled to change out of her clothes and into her pyjamas. Her many bandages made her clothes tight and uncomfortable. Exhausted, Jemma collapsed on the bed. She wanted to sleep, but she knew that in her dreams, the Beast would return and she would have to relive the horror. Jemma grabbed a book off of Spencer's nightstand, Dante's Inferno and began to read. Despite her best efforts though, she did eventually fall asleep.

Spencer tossed and turned on the couch for what felt like hours. He was exhausted from sleeping in plastic chairs and the flight home (after so many years of the BAU jet, a commercial flight just could not compare), but his couch, although nearly brand new was terribly uncomfortable in comparison to his bed. After trying to read then figure out several complex math equations in his head, Spencer still could not fall asleep so he turned on his television (which he rarely used) and found a Star Trek marathon.

A couple episodes in, Spencer heard a strange noise. Since he had the entire series committed to memory, he knew that the noise had not come from the television. He got up and went to the bedroom to check on Jemma.

Jemma was crying in her sleep, screaming for help. Spencer sighed. He knew from experience that if he woke, it would only make things worse. Physical contact only upset Jemma more. He leaned on the door frame, watching to make sure Jemma did not hurt herself.

When Jemma awoke the next morning, she forgot for a moment where she was. Her heart filled with panic until she noticed Spencer sitting on the floor, snoring lightly with his head rested against the door frame. She got out of bed and approached him cautiously. Kneeling on the hardwood floor beside Spencer's sleeping body, she got as close as she could to him before her muscles began to tense up. Jemma wanted to push the boundaries of her new fear of contact as far as she could, so she extended her hand and tucked a strand of Reid's long brown hair behind his ear.

"Have you been here all night, darlin'?" she asked as he opened his eyes.

"Huh? Oh, not all night." he replied, looking directly into her eyes for the first time since that fateful night back in Morrow Springs. They were still just as beautiful, but now they held a tremendous amount of hurt instead of innocence.

"So why were you watching me sleep?" Jemma asked.

"You were crying. I wanted to make sure you didn't hurt yourself." Spencer replied.

"Why didn't you wake me?"

Spencer wished that he could have. It's not like he enjoyed watching Jemma suffer. "You know what happens when I try to touch you, Jem." he said.

Jemma looked away from him and stood up. She walked to the window where she stared out at the city. Spencer stood up and followed. Jemma looked so beautiful in the morning light. Her hair matched with the orange, red and pink of the sunrise. Spencer wanted mare than anything to put his arms around her now fragile and battered body, but knew it would not go over well. He stood as close as he could and stared at Jemma.

"Are you going back to work today?" Jemma asked, continuing to stare out the window.

"Yeah," Spencer replied. "But not if you don't want me to."

Jemma was silent for a moment before responding, "No, I'll be fine here. Your team probably misses you."

"Alright." Spencer sighed. "They uh... they want to interview you as soon as you're feeling up to it."

"I don't think I'll ever be able to talk about it." Jemma said solemnly.

Spencer was not sure what to say to this, but he supposed it was probably true. He sighed and left Jemma at the window to shower and get ready for work.

"You've got my cell number if you need anything." he said to Jemma when he was ready to leave.

Jemma was still standing like a statue at the window in Spencer's bedroom. She turned to look at him and nodded with fear in her eyes.

"I don't have to go if you don't want me to." Spencer told her once again.

"Go. I'll be fine." Jemma said quietly.

"Alright. Make sure to lock the door behind me, alright?"

Jemma nodded and followed him to the door. After locking the door, she returned to the bedroom, closed the curtains and sat on the bed, knees drawn up under her chin, staring out the bedroom door, straight down the hallway at the door to the apartment.

"Hey kid, how's Jemma doing?" Morgan asked Reid as soon as he entered the BAU bullpen.

Spencer sighed and shook his head. "No better than before." he replied.

"What are the chances of us getting her to talk about it anytime soon?" Morgan pressed.

"You're horrible!" Prentiss exclaimed. "After what she's been through, all you want is for her to relive it?"

"Yeah because I want to catch this sick fucker!" Morgan snapped.

"She's not ready to talk about it." Spencer said, sitting down at his desk. "I'm going to try to get her to go to therapy, but I doubt it will help her much. She's still having violent nightmares."

"Has Garcia found anything new?" Prentiss asked Morgan.

"Yeah, another family killed the exact same way just outside of Nashville two days ago." Morgan replied.

"He's changed his route." Spencer said. "He's coming after Jemma."

"How could he possibly know she's in Virginia?" Prentiss asked.

"I have no idea." Morgan said. "As far as we know, Jemma's the only survivor since he began killing."

"We need to get her to talk." Prentiss said, looking at Reid.

"How am I supposed to get her to talk?" Spencer demanded. "I can't even get within two feet of her without her freaking out!"

"I dunno, kid, but you're going to have to figure something out," Morgan said. "Her life depends on it."

When Jemma finally realized that no one was going to come through the door and kill her, she got off of the bed and looked around the apartment for something to do. There had to be close to a thousand books scattered throughout the apartment, but none of them were of much interest to Jemma. There was nothing on the television except talk shows and there was not even enough food in the refrigerator for Jemma to make herself breakfast. Without many other options, Jemma decided to take a bath.

She rolled her eyes when she entered the bathroom. Of course a tiny apartment like this would have a shower instead of a bathtub. She took off her pyjamas then realized she would have to remove all her bandages then re-dress her wounds when she was finished. If she was not so worried about what Spencer thought of her, she would have skipped the shower.

Once Jemma managed to remove all her bandages, she stepped into the shower and turned on the water. It felt good on her skin, but without being able to hear what was going on in the rest of the apartment, Jemma was slightly on edge. She took a deep breath and decided to get this over with as quickly as possible. She reached for the shampoo then realized that it was mens' shampoo. Apparently Spencer never had a woman in his shower before.

The faint scent coming from the open shampoo bottle made Jemma think of Spencer and how much she missed him. Tears came to her eyes at the thought of him. Not only did she miss him, but she wanted the feeling of security that he gave her when he was around. She felt so vulnerable in the small apartment. She felt as if someone were watching her since Spencer had left.

Jemma's legs began to pain from standing so long so she sat on the floor of the shower.

I am so pathetic! She thought. Why couldn't that bastard have just killed me? I don't want to live like this. I don't want to be some broken shell of a person. I'm completely useless. Spencer doesn't want me anymore, I'm a burden on him, he has to take care of me like I'm a child. He'll never want to have sex with me, I'm a rape victim, I'm filthy. I might as well be dead. What do I even have to live for now?

It was almost two o'clock in the afternoon when Spencer turned his key in the apartment door. After realizing that the unsub was probably on his way to Virginia, he had tried to call Jemma to make sure she was alright. Despite Hotch and Rossi's warnings that telling Jemma might make the situation worse, Spencer felt he had to tell her. He had kept a secret from her before and it had not resulted well. He did not want to hear her tell him that she hated him ever again. After he was unable to get an answer, he decided to skip work for the rest of the day. Jemma was probably bored and lonely anyway.

"Jemma?" he called, stepping through the door.

No answer. Spencer tried to push back the fears inside his mind.

"Jemma, where are you?" he tried again, stepping cautiously down the hallway, gun raised.

He sighed when he heard the familiar sound of the shower running. His relief was short lived when he realized that Jemma was crying. Quickly, Spencer debated whether or not it was a good idea for him to go into the bathroom, but Jemma sounded hurt. He put his gun back in its holster and opened the door.

Spencer found Jemma sitting on the floor of the shower, knees tucked up under her chin, sobbing with the water still running. He grabbed a towel and walked towards her, hoping she would not freak out when he got too close. He opened the shower door and turned off the water then reached a hand out for Jemma.

Jemma looked up at Spencer with her big, sad eyes and took his hand. He helped her up then wrapped the towel around her. She was shaking and he was not sure if it was because she was cold or still sobbing. He pulled her close to him and rubbed her back soothingly.

"Shhh... Jemma, it's OK." he said. "You're alright."

"No I'm not." Jemma choked. "I'm not alright. I wish he'd killed me."

"No, don't say that, Jemma," Spencer begged. "Please don't say that."

"Shoot me, Spencer, please!" Jemma cried.

"No, I'm not going to shoot you, Jemma! Do you have any idea how lucky you are to be alive?"

Jemma broke free of Spencer's grasp. "Lucky? You think I'm lucky to have to live like some kind of fragile, broken person? You think I'm lucky to have to relive that nightmare every time I close my eyes? You don't know what it's like to live through that hell!"

Clutching the towel around her dripping wet body, Jemma stormed out of the bathroom. Spencer sighed and followed her to his bedroom where she was sitting on the bed, crying even harder.

"Y-you're wrong." he said. "I do know."

Jemma stopped crying and wiped her eyes with the towel. "Y-you do?"

Spencer sat down on the bed beside her and nodded. "A few years ago, I was kidnapped and tortured by an unsub with multiple personalities. One of his personalities, the real him actually, gave me dilaudid to cope with the pain. I got hooked on it. I still have nightmares sometimes."

"I'm sorry, Spencer." Jemma sobbed. "I didn't mean to be so selfish."

"It's alright, you didn't know."

"I'm scared, Spencer. I'm scared that I'm going to be this weak, broken, pathetic person for the rest of my life."

"You won't be." Spencer told her. "The Jemma I know is strong and smart and beautiful and amazing. You're going to get through this, I know you are. I promise I'll do whatever I can to help you, Jem."

"Thank you." Jemma said tearfully.

They held eachother in silence for awhile until Jemma began to nervously pull away.

"Spencer, can you leave the room?" she asked.

"Why? What's wrong?" he asked.

"I'm uh... I just realized that I'm naked under this towel." Jemma blushed.

Spencer's cheeks turned bright red. "Oh, yeah sure. I'll just be in my office if you need me, alright?"

Jemma nodded. She waited until he left the room and closed the door before she got off the bed and went to her duffel bag that sat open on the floor by the closet. She picked out some clothes, a pair of faded blue jeans and a purple tank top and put them on after she re-dressed her wounds. She left the bedroom and crept quietly down the hallway and opened the door to Spencer's office. He immediately turned around in his chair, hiding the computer screen.

"Hey," he said. "Feeling any better?"

Jemma nodded. "Yeah. Mind if I watch you work?"

Spencer bit his lip. "I'm uh... I'm working on your case right now, Jemma, I don't think you want to see that."

"I won't look at that." Jemma said. "I'll just watch you. I... I don't want to be alone. I... I... nevermind."

"No, what were you going to say?" Spencer asked.

"No, you'll think I'm crazy." Jemma said shyly.

Spencer laughed a little. "Jemma, I catch serial killers for a living and you think I'll think you're crazy?"

"I feel like I'm being watched."

"That's normal for someone who's been through what you have, Jemma." Spencer assured her. "But if it makes you feel better, you can stay."

Jemma sat on the small couch that was crammed into the office and Spencer returned to his work. After awhile Jemma began to notice the hunger pains in her stomach,

"Spencer?"

"Hm?"

"I uh... I haven't had anything to eat since we left Oklahoma." Jemma said.

"Oh! I completely forgot." Spencer said. "I don't think there's any food here, I don't really cook much. Do you want Chinese food? I can order in."

"Sure." Jemma agreed.

About half an hour later they were sitting on the living room floor, laughing as Spencer tried to show Jemma how to use her chopsticks, even though he was terrible at it himself. In the end, they both resorted to using forks, but Spencer was just glad to finally see Jemma smile.

"I'll take you shopping tomorrow." Spencer said. "I feel bad that I left you alone here without food or anything. This is why I can't have pets."

"No, don't worry about it." Jemma insisted. "It's only a couple more weeks until Joey gets home from Iraq. You'll have caught this bastard by then, right?"

"Jemma, there's... there's something I have to tell you." Spencer said. "I don't want to, but I don't like hiding anything from you."

"What is it, Spencer?"

"The unsub, he travels from coast to coast killing families the same way he killed yours." Spencer explained. "Well, it seems like he's changed his route. He's turned around. It looks like he's coming to Virginia. We... we think he's after you. No one's ever survived him before."

Fear washed over Jemma's face. "Y-you'll catch him though, won't you? You'll protect me?"

"We'll try our best, but Jemma, he's been killing for about two decades now and hasn't been caught."

"I... I think I'm going to go to bed now." Jemma said, standing up.

"Jemma, I-"

"No, Spencer. I just need to be alone right now." Jemma said, walking away.

After several hours contemplating the possibility that the Beast could return for her at any moment, Jemma's eyelids grew heavy and she drifted off into a fitful, terrifying sleep.

Spencer awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of Jemma crying. He wearily got off the couch and dragged himself to the bedroom.

"Spencer!" he heard her cry. "Spencer, help me!"

Every time he heard her cry those words, he was filled with guilt. Had she called out for him to save her while she was running from the unsub? Had she begged for him to kill the bastard as he was raping her? He should have been there. He should have been able to protect her, but he had failed her.

Spencer opened the door to the bedroom, but instead of finding Jemma in the middle of a violent nightmare, he saw that she was sitting up, fully awake, sobbing into a pillow.

"Spencer," she cried. "Spencer, please help me."

He did as she said, but was still afraid she might have a fit when he got to close. Instead, Jemma curled up to him and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Jemma, I... I don't know what to do." Spencer said helplessly.

"Just hold me, please?" Jemma begged through her sobs.

Spencer wrapped his arms tightly around her, rubbing her back as she cried.

"Don't let me go." Jemma pleaded. "I'm scared."

"Don't worry, I won't let go." Spencer agreed.

He held onto her until she stopped crying and laid down with her still in his arms as she began to fall back to sleep. He held her through the rest of the night, refusing to let go. He had failed her once and he refused to fail her again.

A/N: Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.

Also, thank you all for the good luck on my business competition on Friday. My team won first place! That's $2,500! I'm so happy! I can't belive we won!

Anyway, don't forget to review! And thank you all for the love and support throughout this and my other stories! You guys are the best!