A/N: I do not own Criminal Minds nor the characters within. Alrighty, confession time: I came up with this idea almost two years ago, but shelved it and never actually sat down to write it. But l recently rediscovered Criminal Minds fanfiction, and remembered the idea. As I've been exploring all sorts of things with my writing lately, I figured, why not go ahead and type it out? What's the point of never taking a chance?

So this is me taking a chance. Enjoy~

The metal gleamed in the harsh fluorescent light. With dental retractors forced into her mouth and pulling the muscle far past what was natural, the UnSub hummed in contentment as the scalpel sliced through and off.

Chest heaving with loud, disjointed moans that quickly changed into burbling, choking noises as blood filled her mouth, spilling out over her lips and swallowed with her hyperventilation, Emily's eyes rolled up in the back of her head.

Still humming contentedly, the UnSub brought the tongue up in the air to look at it, making a gruesome trophy for him to study. "You've done well, Emily," he smiled, satisfied, taking a moment to pat the top of her head almost as an afterthought. Barely paying attention to her shackled, shuddering body, he removed the retractors and untied the leather straps keeping her neck immobile. With a waterfall of thick, dark red pouring down her chin and neck and chest, splattering on her lap and bound hands, Emily pitched forward as far as she could. Sobbing, ugly sounds reverberating from her lungs and throat, she didn't react to the sudden plunging darkness that signified she was alone once again.

Undaunted, the silent witness switched to night vision, allowing the live feed being fed directly to Garcia's main computer continue to show, without prejudice, the agents crowded in Garcia's office just what was happening to their missing teammate in real time.

The camera had started recording five minutes before he'd even entered the room, obviously a remote connection. Garcia, already on edge from the forbidding video that had suddenly popped up in her e-mail, watched in horror as an unidentified man dragged Emily's unconscious body into the concrete cell, bound her quickly and expertly into the only other piece of furniture aside from a low table that took up the far wall, then waited almost patiently for her to wake up. Quickly contacting Hotch and the rest of the team, none of whom even aware of Emily's kidnapping, they'd arrived just in time to see Emily moan and move, the UnSub immediately drawing her into a running conversation.

They'd watched as every so often the man paused to accent his words with quick, flashing slices of his scalpel along her neck and shoulders, anywhere not covered by her camisole. They'd watched Emily, able to keep her own without angering him unnecessarily, try all she could to free herself, obviously in pain but too stubborn to give up the few times he'd left her alone. But as the hours passed, as no solid leads or information came to the team, dooming her to achingly alone captivity, Emily's desperation grew. Normally hidden behind her compartments, it had been painful watching her realize just what danger she was in – and what danger she was going to be in.

And then they watched him cut out Emily's tongue.

Pure shock and sickening nausea welled up inside each agent as they realized the reality of the action. What that meant for the proud and cultured woman; what it meant for their friend. It wasn't something that could be fixed or treated once she was rescued, and the slump of her body as she shook and wheezed seemed to tell them that in brief moments of awareness, Emily knew this too.

It was horrible and it was senseless. But it was permanent. A lifelong sentence.

Which made it all the more unbelievable when ten hours later, during Reid and Morgan's turn to man the video feed, the young doctor continuing to scan the room for a clue, any clue he may have missed, the darker man shifting with coiled energy, frustrated that there was nothing he could do to help the slowly deteriorating woman on the screen, they watched as Emily coughed up what seemed to be an inordinate amount of black, oily blood, licked dark red stained lips, and worked her jaw to whisper hoarsely, "Damn, that one hurt."