Hotch set the pace. Slow and solicitous in consideration of Garcia's flashy footwear.

The rest trailed after him as he made his way down Seattle's darkened side streets toward Pike Place Market.

The hour was late. The foot traffic sparse. As they passed various establishments, they could hear the voices of weary bartenders announcing 'last call.' A few times as the group turned the odd isolated corner, they'd surprise what their law enforcer instincts told them were questionable transactions being conducted in the shadows. The perpetrators scattered before Hotch's glare and the clear warning sign sent up by a dangerous-looking man clad in an official-looking, black suit in this neighborhood at this hour.

A woman standing bored sentinel outside a tattoo parlor tried to coax them in. Her good-natured patter about wearable art made Prentiss smile…and consider taking her up on her offer. But they'd promised to stick together, and Hotch's steps didn't falter. The woman's words about having the cleanest needles in town followed them into a broad alley lined with shuttered shops.

Nearly at the end, a weathered, wooden sign reminiscent of old-fashioned shingles hung outside taverns in medieval times, rocked in the breeze. Small, carved faces of what at first glance appeared to be the Disney dwarves circled the perimeter. Upon closer examination, the creatures' faces weren't nearly as jolly as those in the animated Snow White tale.

A police cruiser was visible at the end of the lane, parked on the cross-street.

Leaning down, Hotch peered through one of the windows. Satisfied, he opened the door and handed Garcia through, holding it for the rest to file in after her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Morgan released a deep sigh of contentment.

The interior of the Seven Dwarves was warm; cozy, even. A fireplace sent up cheerful sparks. The pop and sizzle of pine-scented logs played counterpoint to the quiet conversation of a scattering of patrons. Four uniformed cops were gathered in one corner, nursing mugs of coffee and slices of pie.

Hotch nodded at the two men behind a counter laden with a variety of baked goods under glass domes that glittered as they caught and reflected the firelight. He led the team to a round table situated to one side of the fireplace. Morgan was quick to claim the chair closest to the blaze.

"Why didn't you bring a coat if you're so cold?" Prentiss removed her own, draping it across the back of her chair with an ostentatious air; a visual aid to her criticism.

"Didn't think we'd be sidetracked between PD headquarters and the hotel." Basking, Morgan squirmed a little closer to the warmth. "Why do you like that kind of stuff anyway, Baby Girl? I don't get it."

Garcia had made a complete recovery from her gruesome reading. She removed her flagrantly purple raincoat and took the seat closest to Morgan. "Because, my Chocolate God of Thunder, it's fun."

"But it made you cry." J.J.'s voice was soft, but her observation was undeniable. "Made me cry, too."

"Okay. Maybe not all of it's fun, but it makes you think. Pushes you to…"

"It gives you hope. That's why you like it." All eyes turned toward the person they'd least expected to interrupt…or even contribute. Hotch stared into the flames, unblinking.

One of the men manning the counter approached, putting a temporary halt to the conversation. "You folks hungry or just wanna get out of the weather?"

"I'm hungry." Morgan took one of the menus their host was holding.

Prentiss, Garcia and Rossi also opted for food. The others didn't show interest in anything other than coffee. Once they were assured of some privacy until their orders arrived, Dave picked up the thread of their discussion.

"What do you mean, Aaron? About hope?" Rossi sounded gentle, coaxing. It was a rare opportunity to get the Unit Chief to open up.

Hotch's eyes closed. He shook his head.

"I think I know." Reid fidgeted with the strap of his ever-present satchel. "Maybe…sorta..." He shrugged. It was second nature for the young doctor to downplay himself in social situations. He was never sure what was appropriate…and more sensitive than anyone knew to tiny signs of rejection or condescension when his opinions set him yet farther apart from the average person.

Morgan roused himself from imminent torpor in the warm glow from the fireplace. His second nature was to protect those he believed needed it. A list that included Garcia, Reid and Hotch at the top. "Go ahead, Pretty Boy. Amaze us like you always do."

"Well, it's just things like what we did tonight push people to alter their perspective. The intimation that there's a world beyond what we know that has an affect on us nonetheless…that there are powers and processes moving with purpose. It takes the random cruelty of life and renders it purposeful…even benevolent. And the idea of multiple lives, of the soul's transmigration…"

"It's a second chance." Hotch's deep voice interjected, converting Reid's enthusiasm that was headed for a diatribe complete with sociopolitical and scientific footnotes and references, to the simple basics. "Belief in things like past lives means there could be future lives, too."

Having said his piece, Hotch crossed his arms on top of the table and laid his head down like a schoolboy at naptime. Whether it was the long day, or the way he always drained himself during even a short case, or the emotional weariness resulting from the Sobrani's reading, or if something canine lingering in his depths was responding to a warm corner in front of a fire on a rainy night, he sounded exhausted. His last judgment on the subject was muffled against his sleeve. "Second chance. A chance to get it right next time…or to fail again…and keep on failing…"

Without thinking, Rossi and Prentiss who bracketed the Unit Chief in the seating arrangement, placed companionable hands on his bent back, caressing and patting messages of comfort.

"Oh…Sir…no…" Garcia couldn't bear the mournful note in her boss's voice. "You heard Madame Sobrani. The point is to learn. And you said it yourself: there's hope. Always…always…" Her eyes misted over, words growing softer. "So there's hope that maybe…maybe sometime you can get through life without hurting anyone…anyone at all…"

"Or losing anyone…" J.J. breathed it out on a sigh.

"Or making the wrong decisions and leaving people and places you shouldn't," Rossi added.

"Or never finding out where you belong." Reid was gazing into the fire, brain traveling paths the others could never know.

Morgan shook his head. "Sure a second chance'd be great. But that doesn't make me wanna go find some crystal ball reader."

"I dunno." Prentiss was still rubbing Hotch's back, trying to ease some of the knotted muscles she could feel all the way through multiple layers of clothing. "It doesn't change how I'm gonna live my life, but something about that old lady made me sort of look inside a little more. Don't usually get time to do that. I enjoyed it, Pen."

Garcia gave her a grateful smile. "She said you had wings. How cool is that?!" Her expression slid into sorrow, though, as her gaze fell on their leader's dark head resting on his arms. Images of abused puppies and children threatened tears once more.

The tech analyst gave herself a shake, refusing to end the adventure on a sad note.

Rossi's grave eyes saw her struggle. Saw all of them looking at Hotch. He returned his hand to his best friend's back, and spoke with a firm tone that belied argument.

"She said he had a faithful, loyal heart. We already knew that. And she said he needs to let kindness into his life. Let people love him. That's what I heard anyway."

"Rossi, I think he's asleep." Prentiss felt deep, even breathing beneath the palm of her hand.

"Good. He needs it." Dave lowered his voice as he looked around the table from teammate to teammate. "I think we overwhelmed him earlier. He needs the hugs and kisses, but he's not used to that kind of open display."

"But he needs to learn to let us in more." J.J. gave her boss a fond look.

"We can't push him. He'll close off to protect himself," Reid pointed out.

"So what do we do?"

There was a charged silence as Hotch gave a weighty sigh. When he mumbled something indiscernible, sinking into deeper sleep, the team released breaths they hadn't realized they were holding.

Rossi smiled. "We do what I think that wise, old woman was trying to tell us when we asked how to pay her. We stick together. We stand by him through the darkest times. And we take care of him…we take care of each other…" Dave raised his brows at the group and felt his smile widen when the response that would be their motto for the rest of their time together…in this life, at any rate… was whispered in unison.

"Just…like…a family…"