21 August.

40 hours remain.

Emily's body hit the hard concrete with a heavy thud and she cried out, pain exploding from every inch of her body. She didn't know what hurt worse, the wounds he'd inflicted upon her, the rope-burn on her wrists, or the sudden release of her shoulders.

"Git up." he barked from above her, his boot harshly colliding with her spine. Whimpering, she rolled to her front and managed to push herself to her knees. She was still groggy and disoriented, unable to grasp her bearings. His hand embedded in her dark hair, yanking her roughly to her feet. Every movement sent stabbing pains throughout her body.

"Ya feelin like ya can keep yer wits about ya?" he hissed in her hear, his other hand tightly gripping her bare thigh.

"Y-yes. I won't fight you." Emily nodded weakly, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. The Unsub pushed her through the heavy metal doorway, into a long hallway. Weak from lack of food, she stumbled in front of him, her entire body screaming in protest. Halfway, he paused at another metal door in the cinder-block wall. His hand clamped over her eyes before she was shoved through. The rough cold concrete beneath her feet was replaced with warm carpet, soft against her feet. The chill was replaced with warm, enveloping her body like a blanket. A soft cloth replaced his hand over her eyes, and, as his hands left her body, she was left entirely blind to the world around her.

"We gonna play a little game, little miss FBI." his voice came from a few feet away, "I'm gon' ask you questions, and you can ask me one back. Sound good?"

Emily nodded in response.

"What's yer name?" his voice moved further away.

"Emily. How long have I been with you?" she timidly reached a hand out around her, hoping for some indicator of the room around her, yet she found nothing.

"40 hours. Married?" his voice was almost inaudible now, and the absence of her captor made her anxious:

"No. Where am I?"

"My livin' room. Kids?" Still almost inaudible, he had be in a separate room.

"None. Why did you choose me?" her hand timidly moved towards her blindfold, praying he wasn't watching her.

"Jus' followin' orders. How long you lived here?" his voice was inches from her face, and he landed a hard blow to the back of her knees as he spoke. She crumbled to her hands and knees, gasping for breath as her body protested in pain.

"I-I don't live here. What are you going to do to me?" Emily shook her head slightly, trying to clear her head from the pain.

"Whatever I want ta, till bossman comes. Ya think yer too good for a man? That why yer not married?" she felt his hands begin to roam over her body threateningly.

"Not at all. I move too much to be married. Who's your boss?" her jaw locked as his hands moved along the injuries he'd inflicted on her.

"Dunno his name, he just told me to hold on ta ya and train ya to please him. Enough questions."

Emily fought back a shudder at his words, but couldn't think too much on them as she felt the familiar steel blade tracing lines along her chest and abdomen. He can't kill me, she thought, at least he can't kill me.

"Could you un-blindfold me?" the breath was knocked out of her the moment the question left her lips as he plunged the blade into her back, just beneath her lung. She gasped for breath but found none, pain clouding her already blind eyes.

"I said no more questions!"

Spencer Reid sat alone in Emily's hotel room. Her bag laid open on the bed, a now damp towel tossed carelessly onto the mattress beside it. Lifting an olive green shirt from the top of her bag, he fingered the material anxiously. It smelled like her. He missed her smell.

"You good, kid?" Morgan's voice from the doorway jarred him from his thoughts, causing him jerk sharply:

"Y-yeah. I-I'm just thinking."

"What's goin' on in that big brain of yours?" Morgan leaned against the generic hotel desk, hands splayed on the scratched wood behind him.

"I-I'm just realizing how much we don't know. Normally, we interview families and build a profile of the v-victim..." the word made him stumble, not willing or ready to consider his friend a victim, "But we are her family and we don't know anything."

The small break in the boy's voice pulled at Morgan:

"Well, let's go over what we do know."

"This feels personal. There's no sign of struggle anywhere, and E-Emily... she wouldn't have gone willingly. But if someone was targeting her, why would they have gone through such lengths? Pull us all the way here, stage a whole scenario big enough to attract the FBI?" his hands idly folded and refolded the shirt in his lap.

"Maybe it isn't her, but what she represents." JJ's soft voice came from the hallway, the tiny blonde anxious to enter the room, "Hear me out. We know the Unsub's a sexist narcissist. He believes women are meant to serve him. What if Emily's position of power as a woman is what provoked him? He could have seen her at a crime scene and, his anger at being tracked combined with her job with the FBI, maybe that's the key? It's not about Emily at all. She's symbolic of everything he thinks is wrong with the world..."

"I-I think I've got something..." Reid mumbled to himself, placing the shirt back into her bag and quickly scuttling out of the room.

Spencer Reid looked up from his book, sounds of children squealing drawing his attention.

"You okay?" His raven-haired coworker startled him, approaching him from down the sidewalk.

"Emily? How'd-how'd you know where to find me?" Folding the edge of his page, he closed the book in his lap.

"That's my apartment building." With a soft smile, she pointed to the high-rise that flanked the right side of the park, "Mind if I sit?"

He nodded, shuffling to the side to make room for her. Her presence beside him was nice. She smelled like some sort of flowers, mixed with her natural scent.

"You never answered my question, you know?" lifting the coffee cup to her lips, she smiled briefly before sipping at the steaming liquid.

"I-I'm fine. My, uh, my mom had an episode last night so I spent the night on the phone with her. I come here a lot to think."

"Spencer. Have you slept?" Worry creased her forehead as she rested her hand on his upper back.

"N-no..." His voice trailed off, distracted by her soft hand.

"Here. I think you need this more than I do." Emily placed her coffee into the boy's hand gently.

He smiled in thanks, his long bony fingers wrapping around the warm cup. As he lifted the cup to his lips, he felt her head rest against his shoulder. Her presence was nice, though he wasn't quite sure what to do with it. He'd always been fond of Emily. She was always kind to him in a way others weren't - she cared, but she didn't treat him like a child.

They sat there in silence for a while: her head on his shoulder, her coffee in his hand, both quietly watching the people in the park before them.

It became their routine. On their off days, she'd find him in the park, on the same bench each time. Sometimes she brought them both coffee, sometimes she just gave him hers. But they always sat there in silence, her head on his shoulder, comfortable in each others' thoughtful stillness.

Spencer missed her. He wasn't ready for the idea of a Saturday morning park bench without her.

A/N: Thanks for your kind reviews, please keep 'em coming!