"Emily, this isn't something that I want to discuss over the phone. Too complicated. Now, I really have to be at work and I'm sure you have things you need to do. So, why don't we…"

"Why don't we cut to the chase then, Mom?" You are not fobbing me off with some 'we'll talk later' ploy, Mother! Not this time. "Why don't you just tell me about your side of the family and those names…and anything else that you're hiding?"

When she replied, the outrage in the ambassador's voice was both genuine and strategic, dredging up ancient history as a diversion. "Hiding?! Oh, please, Emily…If you want to start tossing around accusations and dramatics, I'll be forced to bring up some of the unsavory secrets you kept from me the whole time you were growing up…still keep from me!" There was an undertone of hurt in her mother's words that made Prentiss go very, very still.

She had kept secrets.

One in particular from her teenage years had left scars that still hadn't faded. Would never. She'd uncover them every now and then when she was feeling low; look at them, touch them and marvel at how they still hurt. And wonder if maybe she deserved the pain.

But I never told her! I never told anyone except Matthew and…Emily's eyes closed in terrible recognition of betrayal. Father Gamino! But…but he was a priest! He wasn't supposed to tell anyone anything, no matter how much he despised the idea of an abortion...

The bottom dropped out of her stomach. But I didn't tell him I was pregnant in the confessional. I just went to him for advice. It wasn't protected information. He must have…he must have…Oh, God…all this time she's known…every time she looked at me, what she must have thought…all these years she knew?…

XXXXXXXXXX

"All these years you've …you've…and…and never said anything?" It was a stumbling block that caught Hotch and threw him to the ground, robbing him of breath and logic. There was something cringe-worthy in imagining that people were looking at you, talking about you…knowing things you had buried and kept as painful, guilty secrets. Thinking about them every time they had to deal with you.

If he was such an open book, Hotch wanted to know what he was doing to betray himself. It had to be some sort of 'tell,' but he was so very, very careful; always viewing himself like an out-of-body observer. Always critiquing himself. Always doubting himself. Always working on being above his self-appointed position of unwanted error roaming the face of the earth. He'd thought he was safe from being discovered and seen for what he'd been taught he was; a colossal disappointment.

Rossi ran his arms up and down his friend's shoulders and back, trying to bring warmth into a chilly situation; determined to hold on until he could inject a fresh perspective into what he was beginning to think was a version of social anxiety. He thinks he's not good enough as is to associate with the rest of the world. Has to maintain a façade that'll keep everyone at a distance so they don't see the wanting, lacking thing he believes himself to be. Thinks he has to be perfect to be deserving of normal, everyday affection. Dave's arms cinched tighter. Idiot. Poor, sweet, damaged, noble-minded idiot.

"Would you have wanted me to say anything, Aaron? Do you wanna talk about it now?"

The question set Hotch back. Blinking, he forced himself to regain some emotional control. "N-no. No. I…no."

"Well, there you are." It was said softly, accompanied by a briefly tighter squeeze.

Rossi's nonjudgmental, easy acceptance was his foot-in-the-door. It gave the Unit Chief a safe place and a small respite from his own harsh self-image. So Aaron breathed, and tucked his shock and discomfort into a nice, neat compartment, rendering them manageable; trying to trick himself into seeing them as momentary instead of monumental. He pushed himself upright and away from the older man's embrace.

But there were no words. He could only stare into Rossi's eyes inches away; dark eyes filled with confusion and fear looking into those exhibiting only open warmth. A small smile tickled the edges of Dave's lips.

"You want to know why I never mentioned your past before." Statement, not question. Hotch nodded. Rossi shrugged. "Because it matters to you more than to anyone else. Like I said: those who know you, know the important part of you…the you of the here and now…they don't give a rat's ass damn. The past hurts you, and for that I'm sorry, but it doesn't have any effect on those of us who follow you, and admire you, and…love you." He sighed, pushing some of Hotch's stray cowlicks down. Or trying to. "And the second part of your question would be…why do I bring it up now?"

Again, the Unit Chief nodded.

"Because I don't believe in fairytales, and feelings from both your past and present are making you vulnerable and susceptible to them. That's why."

Hotch searched his friend's face for several beats, finding only sincerity and concern. It encouraged him to open up and let just a little of his lingering doubts out. "But…the dreams and…and it wasn't even a dream when Prentiss and I were hiking. It was something else. And it was real. And…"

Rossi took the younger man's shoulders in a gentle, but firm grip, holding eye contact. "Listen to me, Aaron." He took a deep, preparatory breath. "Your childhood and adulthood are connected. I never said anything against Haley, because I knew you loved her. You probably still do; probably always will. But, she played on your vulnerabilities to try and get what she wanted. She made you feel guilty for your job and for the effort you expended on it rather than on being home with her and Jack."

Hotch's brows rose, but Rossi wouldn't allow interruption. "Let me finish. Haley didn't do anything other wives don't do who want their men safe and close. She loved you. The thing is, you had all these buttons installed since childhood that were all about guilt and feelings of failure. So what she said bridged the gap in a really cruel way…a way neither of you could have known. Haley just used a common tool in every woman's arsenal. And you…" He released his hold on Hotch, making another attempt to smooth the man's cowlicks; failing yet again. "…you, in effect, had all that time in between being a kid and being a man, when you should have been healing, ripped away. You're at square one, Aaron. That doesn't happen often.

"Now, you come here and everything you've been bottling up, is roaring down like an avalanche. You're just a dad with normal, parental concerns, but that bridge Haley unwittingly built is finally demanding you deal with it and all the connecting emotions from childhood. That's all this is. Not an otherworldly existence as some kind of pack leader whose family was also taken."

Hotch swallowed. Hotch licked his lips. Finally, Hotch nodded.

It made sense.

But deep in his heart and his soul and his marrow, he didn't believe it for a second.