Prentiss's breath caught in her throat. "Kind of weird we'd both have old, familiar dreams on the same night."

Hotch was silent for a moment, staring into the foggy middle-distance. Then… "What was your dream? Tell me?" He cringed inside. He'd always kept strict barriers in place when it came to accessing others' personal information, except in the line of duty, of course. On a case he was as persistent and perceptive as a foxhound, gleaning the most telling things from the slightest whiff of evidence.

But this was different.

This was personal, and this was Prentiss.

"Unless…you don't want to talk about it," he hedged.

"Are you kidding? I'm with Garcia on this kind of stuff. Only…" She raised one shoulder in an elegant shrug. "…I don't take it so seriously. It can be very cool, but it's likely just coincidences and deep-seated aspects of one's own psychological past…don't you think?"

The past was something Hotch had no desire to exhume. Neither his, nor that of some imagined fantasy. But he wanted to know why Emily had mentioned a leash and the feeling of restraint in her dream, when the very mention of those things made him feel like a volcano inside: all molten and unstoppably destructive.

He nodded. "Agreed. So…?" He arched a quizzical brow, encouraging her to begin.

Her lids lowered and, again, she raised her face to the sky. An unexpected breeze lifted her hair, bringing the imagery of feathers to Hotch's mind once again. "There's not much to tell. I fly. I've always been able to fly in my dreams. And I love it." Prentiss opened her eyes, turning to meet her teammate's dark regard. "It wasn't until you mentioned an enemy that I thought of the other part. The part where someone tries to stop me…to tame me."

She searched his eyes. Unreadable. Their depths reflecting either nothing, or too much, but she couldn't tell which, couldn't decipher his expression.

Hotch licked dry lips and swallowed. "You mentioned a leash."

Emily nodded, looking out over the fog-shrouded land before them. "Something pulls me back. I get the impression of a leather strip. Long. And there's always the sound of bells. Little ones, like…like jingle bells…or those annoying ones that shopkeepers use over their front doors that…"

"Falconry." Hotch's whisper froze her mid-sentence. Her head turned in a slow arc as she looked at him, her lips tracing a bemused half-smile.

"That is so weird." She studied his eyes. "You're right. In the dream and just now, I couldn't put a name to it. But you're right. It was falconry." The smile born of this revelation about an old riddle… faded. "I hated it. I didn't want to be tamed. I fought…I hated the bells. I still don't like them…not the little ones anyway."

Sorrow touched Prentiss's delicate features, but her eyes never left his. Aaron couldn't look away either. "Your turn, Hotch. What comes to you in your dreams?"

He shook his head in small, repetitive denial. "I…I don't know. I didn't know anything until you said 'leash.' Then I remembered being restrained…being angry." One side of his mouth twitched in a mirthless homage to his own ineffective ability to recall. "I guess someone was trying to tame me, too." He expected her to make some wry remark. This was Prentiss after all. But her eyes remained grave, watching him…Like a hawk…Like an eagle…eagle-eyed…but not predatory…just keen…

"Do you want to remember?…Hotch, do you?" She breathed his name out; a sign of uncertainty. Emily didn't know if she was crossing boundaries that should remain intact. They would both hate anything that compromised their professional relationship, but something about this mountaintop and the fact that they shared the need to escape civilization, if only for a few hours, encouraged intimacy. A small voice ran in the back of her mind…Reid said there were no mountains. We can't be very high up, but it feels…it feels isolated...and strange...

"If you want to remember, I could take you through a cognitive. Up here where it's just us…"

The Unit Chief read between the lines. No one has to know about this. Whatever is said stays private. It was tempting, but…

Prentiss read his reluctance. Things were too serious, too personal. She let mischief enter her grin. "Think of this as a kind of outdoor Vegas. What happens up here…stays up here." The challenging glint in her eye lightened the atmosphere. Almost as though the air were in synchronicity, the breeze freshened, scattering shreds of fog in twirls and tatters. A soft, muted blue peeked through overhead.

Taking a deep breath, Hotch studied his teammate for a moment. In the bird-less silence the land seemed to be holding its breath, too…waiting.

"Okay." He nodded.

"Good." Prentiss felt a thrill, like wings beating inside her chest. For Aaron Hotchner to even agree to a cognitive interview of a dream from his childhood was a tremendous demonstration of trust.

"Good," she repeated. Her voice dropping to a soft, lulling, almost secretive tone.

"Close your eyes, Hotch… Close your eyes and listen…"