4 October. 42 Days later.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Muffled sounds came from around her, but Emily couldn't bring herself to open her eyes. She sensed a presence beside her and feared the worse:

Where am I? What happened? What is he waiting for, why hasn't he killed me?

Gingerly, she tested her eyelids. They fluttered and opened slightly, enough to make out the hospital room around her. Her arm was in a sling, braced against her chest. A blanket hid the rest of her body, inhibiting her assessment. Her head throbbed and nausea plagued her stomach.

"Emily?" the familiar voice filtered through her thoughts. Aaron Hotchner stood in the doorway, arms slightly outstretched with his palms forward. With a nod of his head, he dismissed whoever was behind him. "May I come in?"

Emily opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. Nodding slightly, she winced at the pain it brought her.

"How are you feeling?" he approached her slowly, eyeing her response, and stopped a few feet away. Again, she nodded.

"May I sit?" he nodded to the chair by her bed, maintaining his cautious posture. Her response was an eye-roll and slight nod. She tried to sit up, her body immediately refusing by sending sharp shooting pain throughout her entire body, forcing a soft whimper from her lips.

"I-" Hotch froze in place, his eyes fixed on his subordinate, "I'm sorry. Do you want me to go? I could get JJ for you. That would probably be better..."

"Stop." the word was barely audible and the painful protest of her throat made her regret the action immediately. The man remained in place, unsure of how to proceed:

"Do you want me to go?"

She shook her head: No.

"You want me to stay?"

She nodded: Yes.

"Do you want some water?"

She nodded: Yes.

Hotch moved slowly, filling a plastic cup and bringing it back to her bedside. He awkwardly bent the straw to her lips and avoided eye contact as she gratefully relieved the dry ache in her throat.

"You know I'm not going to spontaneously shatter, right?" her voice was soft and scratchy, but the action less painful now.

"I-I. Yes, of course. I just don't want to make you uncomfortable. After what you've been through, waking up in a strange place with a man in your room must be disorienting..." he trailed off, resuming his seat by her head.

"Don't profile me, Hotch." she said it with a soft smile, but her words were firm, "I'm a big girl, I can handle myself."

He nodded somberly, slowly moving his hand to rest atop hers.

"I'm okay, Aaron." her voice was softer this time, seeing the pain in his face.

"I thought we'd lost you, Emily. Nothing we did, nothing we uncovered, nothing got us any closer to helping you. We were ineffective when we should have been on top of things. I'm sorry." her superior avoided her eyes, looking down at the bed beside her.

"But I'm okay. What'd the doctor say?" wincing at the protest from her arm and shoulder, Emily turned her hand over to squeeze his gently.

"Emily..." he stood awkwardly, his hand falling helplessly to his side.

"Just tell me, Aaron." her voice was shaky, her lungs protesting too much to allow her a calming breath.

""You were in surgery for a long while. Things didn't exactly go well, and your body needed time to heal itself. You've been in a medically induced coma while your internal injuries healed. But the doctors said everything was successful in the end, you should make a full recovery fairly quickly from this point. You should be up on your feet in the next few days." The guilt was evident on his face, adding a layer to the wave of emotion that flooded her mind as she attempted to process this new information.

"... how long?" a barely audible whisper from the woman, eyes blinking slowly to control any emotion that threatened to bubble to the surface.

"42 days."

Forty-two days. She'd been unconscious for nearly six weeks, yet she was almost certain she'd still been with her captor moments before. Forty-two. Days.

Emily slowly forced her lungs to accept a deep breath to steady herself:

"What are my injuries?"

"Severe concussion. Left and right shoulder dislocation. Severe tissue damage in your right shoulder. 4 rib fractures. They repaired internal bleeding in your stomach and lung. Your lower spine was inflamed. Multiple infected superficial wounds that presented as septic. And... uh, y-you presented with severe pelvic and vaginal trauma." her superior looked away at the end, unable to confront the reality of his subordinate's experience.

Emily nodded slowly, taking inventory of her injuries.

"And I'm healing?"

"Yes. The swelling in your brain has returned to normal. Your left shoulder is stable, but still healing. The right will be able to come out of the sling in the next few days. Your ribs are healing. Surgical repairs to your internal organs are healing, as are the incision sites and superficial wounds. They're still treating a recurring infection in your arm and abdomen, but the doctor seems confident it's under control. As far as the rest... I think you should hear that from someone other than me..." her superior trailed off, looking towards the door uncomfortably.

"Just tell me, Aaron."

"You required a partial hysterectomy to stop internal bleeding. They're watching the progress of a significant pelvic fracture, but said the likelihood of damaging things are slim."

Emily nodded slowly, refusing to acknowledge the waves of emotion threatening to knock down her facade.

"On the bright side, they anticipate you'll be able to be discharged by the end of the week, assuming you're able to follow specific care instructions and have someone to help you."

Emily remained silent. On the bright side. Bright side? There was no bright side. She'd been through the worst 72 hours of her life, kept in a coma for 42 days, and Aaron was offering her bright sides? She was broken. There is no bright side to that. He should have just killed her when he had the chance.