A/N: Descriptions of sexual assault.

23 August.

Midnight.

2 hours remain.

"I'm real sorry 'bout all a this..." the younger Unsub cradled Emily's bleeding body in his arms as he carried her to a dry corner of her concrete cell, "Told him you's different. But he don't believe me. Never believes me."

"Why do you listen to him?" Emily's voice cracked painfully as she spoke, dehydration and starvation leaving her throat raw.

"I gotta. Can ya keep a secret darlin'?" the boy retrieved her now tattered and blood-caked clothing and balled them into a makeshift pillow under her head. Emily weakly nodded in agreement. Cringing, she braced herself for the worst as the man reached behind him, retrieving something from his waistband.

A bottle.

"I like ya an I want ya to make it. If you pass bossman's test, maybe ya can come stay with me in my room when he don't need ya. I'll treat ya nice, so long as ya mind." He unscrewed the cap and lifted the bottle to her lips, watching over his shoulder anxiously as she drank, nearly too weak to do so. The water ached against her throat, but she was grateful. A groan escaped her chest as the bottle disappeared, her body demanding more. The younger Unsub confused her. Originally so brutal and twisted, he'd grown to be kinder to her. As his assaults worsened, his other treatment of her improved. He spoke to her kinder, smiled at her more often.

"Jus' don't fight him, okay?" his voice sounded small, boyish. Emily nodded weakly. She couldn't fight back anymore even if she wanted to.

"What's your name?" her voice came out as a croak as he left her side, moving towards the door.

"Johnny." he smiled over his shoulder at her for a moment before approaching the table by the door. She immediately closed her eyes, preparing for whatever torment would follow.

The BAU agents sat in silence around the conference table, each with their head in their hands. They were out of leads. 2 more hours, and they'd get a call reporting the dead body of their colleague. They had failed her. Emily had been there for each and every one of them on countless occasions, yet they'd failed her. They were too close to this now, unable to analyze the situation in ways they normally would. The shrill telephone ring snapped them all out of their trance.

"Go ahead, Garcia." Morgan's monotonous voice was far from his normal chipper answer, but no one could blame him.

"One of the vehicles was registered to Robert Clayton, a lawyer from Washington State. 9 years ago he adopted his nephew after his brother was murdered, get this, by his wife! Jonathan Clayton is now 27 and has been in inpatient facilities for treatment of Borderline Personality Disorder and Schizophrenia 6 times in the last 9 years. Jonathan was released from his last treatment six months ago, in Madison, Wisconsin."

"Clayton's gotta be our guy. Do we have an address?" Hotch rose from his seat, pulling his suit jacket from the back of his chair.

"Well... that's the thing. Neither them or anyone related has any properties within a 7 hour radius..." Garcia trailed off, anxiety clear in her tone.

"Dammit!" Hotch's first hit the table, causing all the other members of his team to jolt upright. They weren't used to any expression of emotion from their leader, much less anything to this degree.

Johnny hauled Emily to her feet gently, brushing dirt from her bare body. Every touch sent pain shooting through her entire body, yet she stood still, not willing to threaten his sudden kindness. Wrapping one arm around her waist, Johnny hauled her to the center of the room, where he'd placed the now empty table. It was smaller up close, just a regular wooden table now that he'd removed the objects from its surface.

"Here, bend..." Johnny mumbled quietly, as he guided her torso down onto the table top, bending to secure her ankles to the table legs. The strain on her legs made her eyes water, but she was too dehydrated to cry anymore. A rope slid over her back and beneath the table top, anchoring her, the rough rope lying directly on top of the stab wound Johnny had delivered some time earlier.

"This is the worst part, sorry..." the boy, now concerningly submissive, timidly pulled her wrists behind her and secured them at the edge of the table by her hips, arching her back painfully and increasing pressure on her fresh wounds. Crowching beside her head, Johnny smoothed her blood-matted hair back from her face, "Jus... stay still, okay?"

Emily nodded weakly, praying for a loss of consciousness.

The older Unsub entered through the groaning heavy door then, now in only a dirty white t-shirt:

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? Making friends? Get away from her, you little shit." He growled, crossing the room quickly and enclosing his hand around her throat, "What, you think you can manipulate the boy? Little miss FBI agent still think she's gonna get out of this mess? You're gonna leave this table wishing you were dead. Then Johnny-boy here is gonna finish the job, aren't you son?"

Johnny watched from the corner, wide-eyed as Emily's face became tinged with a light blue. She gasped desperately for air, as his hand disappeared, her contorted position making it hard to recover. His fist collided with her jaw, and with that, the world went blank.

"Excuse me...? I-I'm lookin for the FBI?" a scrawny man stood in the doorway of the local police station, ringing his hands anxiously.

"Yes, sir? How can I help you?" JJ approached from the back of the station, Reid following close behind her.

"I... I gotta talk to ya 'bout somethin'? But... in private?" the man was visibly uncomfortable, his blue eyes darting between the two federal agents, "It's... bout yer friend..."

Both agents paused and exchanged a glance before motioning for the man to follow them, "Yes, of course. Right this way, sir."

Stabbing pains along her spine ripped Emily into consciousness, a strangled cry bursting from her chest.

"How nice of you to rejoin me, Emily." the man spoke from behind her, his hips colliding against her. She was quiet, her fingers white knuckled against the table edge behind her. No idea how long she'd been out, she winced as she felt the pool of hot blood on the table beneath her. Her entire body ached so that she no longer knew where anything came from.

For the first time in her life, Emily prayed for death.

Aaron Hotchner sat in a booth across from her, his typical harsh expression replaced with a smile. It wasn't often she saw him smile, though she always appreciated it. They laughed together about some irrelevant discussion, both watching their coworkers drunkenly stumble together on the bar's small dance floor.

"You should join them!" Emily shouted over the loud music, laughing before lifting her beer to her lips.

"No, thank you. I'm fine where I am. Though I'm sure you'd fit right in." His tone was the same serious monotone she'd come to expect, but his eyes smiled. His hand reached for hers, where it rested on the table between them. A quick squeeze was all it took for her to sit a little taller and an uncomfortable heat to spread across her cheeks.

"You know you won't win, right?" Spencer's timid chuckle from across the table made her smile.

"Yes, I'm fully aware that I have no chance against your mighty-brain. Doesn't mean I shouldn't try." Emily chuckled, moving her bishop three spaces.

"No one else is every willing to play me, not that Gideon's gone. Everyone knows they'll lose."

"Spence, I'm not spending my day off playing chess because I want to win." she smiled softly, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

"Then... why?" Confusion covered his face, but he was met only with an eye-roll of explanation.

"Emily! Tell me!"

"Forget it, Spencer." Lifting her glass, Emily retreated to her kitchen for more water.

"Emily! You can't just leave the board in the middle of a match!" He rose and trailed behind her, launching into a list of ways her actions violated official chess rules. Turning the corner, he stumbled into Emily who'd paused at her refrigerator to retrieve a pitcher of water. The pitcher hit the floor with a thud as she lost her balance, Spencer's hands landing securely on her waist.

"S-sorry..." he muttered anxiously, quickly beginning to retreat from the dark-haired woman before him, yet her hands caught him, pulled him back to her. Turning slightly to face the anxious man, Emily rested a hand against his chest and smiled reassuringly up at him.

"It's fine, Spencer. Really." she stretched up to close the few inches between them, her lips landing on his cheek softly.

Emily's heart ached as memories flooded into her mind. The pain her body felt blurred her thoughts, but she knew she wanted death. She couldn't bare the though of leaving her team behind, but nothing was worth this pain.

A/N: Drop me a comment and let me know how you'd like things to progress! Think of it as sort of a choose your own adventure!