A.N. : Well, the time has come to submit my small part to the wonderful world of Criminal Minds. I kinda got inspiration for this fic from reading a whole bunch of h/c and watching "100". Anywho, the plot is to tell the tale mainly in regards to the aftermath of torture, but there will be plenty of flashbacks to tell all. I'm not quite sure yet how far I'm going to take stuff (it won't be overly graphic, but certainly uncomfortable) but I'm keeping the M rating to be safe. As always, I do not own Hotch (damn), Morgan(damn), Spencer (double damn), or the rest of the BAU, I'm merely borrowing them for my own sick or twisted amusement. So, please, read, enjoy, and review!

bold italic= random statement/place

italic= thoughts/flashbacks.

It had been thirteen days.

Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid pondered on how so short a time, when relavistically compared to say a month, a year, much less a person's life spam, could seem so long. He stood, pondering the complex mechanisms by which the human body was made to feel and express emotion, the chemical imbalance caused by a sudden release of hormones into the critical places of the brain and body. All interpreted by the frontal lobe into simple, common words: anger, fear, doubt, relief..... For a moment, he mused on a fading connection between the jarring changes in time perception each of these feelings produced and Einstein's theory of Relativity. If he had wanted to, he might have developed an argument that the various "chemical engines" of the human body moved it at varying rates causing the so called variability in time perception. He could have, had Special Agent Dave Rossi not just shoved a steaming cup of coffee into his hand.

"How are they?" the senior agent asked, carefully studying the younger man's profile.

"Hotch has entered and awoken from four REM cycles in the past three hours, Morgan from three," replied Reid, his tone mechanical. Rossi frowned slightly, but made no mention of it. He knew Reid needed the detachment to process the condition of not only his best friend, but his replacement father figure as well.

"And the girl?" he asked, looking through the hospital window. From his view, he could see both Special Agents Hotchner and Morgan lying eerily still on two adjacent hospital cots. Both men were covered by a standard cotton sheet with their arms gently placed at their sides over the cover, giving access to the IV's in each man's arm. Sitting between them in a hard chair, with lime green, synthetic leather covering, was a young woman no older then twenty-three at the most. Though her back was turned to the two agents standing outside, Rossi could easily picture her medium length, sandy brown hair hanging lankly around a long, pinched looking face. Her eyes were large and a lovely shade of sky blue. At one time, he thought to himself, they were probably her best feature. That was before he met her, however. Long before the once innocent young woman had been dragged down into a nightmare beyond her control.

It had been thirteen days.

"The only times she's moved are when the nightmares start," Reid replied. This time Rossi thought he heard a twinge of guilt in the young genius' voice. It was a feeling he understood all to well. While they had managed to find Hotch, Morgan, and the girl alive, they had been too late to save them from the worst damage. God only knew what would happen to the three of them from this point on.

"He barely recognized me," Reid said suddenly, his face becoming paler then usual, "Morgan, I mean. He wouldn't let me near him till Audrey assured him who I was."

Rossi glanced up at the other profiler, his expression unreadable. The reaction wasn't something either profiler was surprised by, necessarily. Both understood on a clinical and a personal level the effect nightmares had on a person's perceptions, especially waking up. They were both certain, given what Hotch and Morgan had gone through, it would be difficult for a long time to readjust to reality after such dreams. Rossi feared it would be even worse for the girl Audrey. Though she had physically come out of the ordeal relatively unscathed (the doctor had to give her fifteen stitches for the gashes along her left thigh and right arm, bandaging for her wrists, and minor painkillers for the aches and bruises from her stay in the Unsub's bunker), Rossi feared the Unsub had played heavily on her psychological terror rather then physical torment. It was in keeping with the profile and made the older profiler's stomach turn. While he couldn't help but be impressed at the strong front the girl had put up since their rescue, Rossi had also noticed he hadn't seen her sleep more then the doctors had initially induced.

With a sigh, he reached up to give Reid's shoulder a gentle squeeze. Out of the entire team, Reid was probably the most lost at the moment and Rossi felt it his duty to fill in the role of friend and mentor at least until Hotch or Morgan were ready for the mantel again. If they ever wil be, he thought privately as he walked past the young man's still frame and turned to enter the room's doorway.