Reid's curiosity was running rampant.

His brain itched with the desire to delve into whatever Hotch and Prentiss had experienced as a result of the hypnotherapy session. He also wanted to get online as soon as possible and translate the snippets of…Latvian?...that he'd heard Prentiss utter. He had a feeling that if they unearthed enough puzzle pieces, he'd be able to discern a pattern.

And he was sure that pattern would be one of the most intriguing he'd ever encountered. He couldn't wait to interpret it.

Morgan, J.J., and Garcia were more concerned than curious. What Reid found to be intellectually stimulating, they found discomfiting to the extreme. They milled about in the hotel lobby, watching their silent leader.

Hotch seemed bent on communing with the ground. He kept his gaze downward. The very hunch of his shoulders said he wanted time to absorb whatever doors in his psyche had been unlocked on the therapist's couch. No…not unlocked, he brooded. More like thrown open…torn off their hinges. And there's no way to close up the gaping holes into God-knows-what, and God-knows-when that were behind them.

He mumbled thanks and apologies and something about sleep, although that was farther from his unsettled mind than ever, and made his way toward the bank of elevators that would take him to the seventh floor and his room.

"Why don't you guys get us a table in the dining room? I'll be back down in a minute. We'll talk." Rossi tossed the suggestion over his shoulder as he followed slow-moving Hotch. Prentiss was already trailing him. She'd seemed like Aaron's quiet shadow ever since they'd left Barton's office.

No words were spoken for the first six floors. As they reached the seventh, Hotch roused himself from his reverie. "You guys don't need to come with me. I'm fine. I'm just gonna go to bed."

Both the other two noticed he hadn't said 'go to sleep.' It was a tiny distinction, but to profilers it indicated the Unit Chief was anything but 'fine.' He'd likely spend hours brooding alone until exhaustion claimed him. The adrenaline rush at the doctor's was still in effect. It would decide when his body would be allowed to rest. Until then, his mind would be a churning version of Hell.

"You sure? You want me to get you anything?" Rossi's concern was palpable. He wanted to help; he just didn't know how. He was having a hard time processing the transformation he'd witnessed during the hypnosis. He'd been expecting to see a victim of childhood trauma emerge; not a ravening beast. And definitely not a beast that Prentiss could control with a word.

They reached room 712. "No. Thanks, Dave, but I…I don't know…I'm sorry. I need to be a-alone." Hotch's voice cracked on the last word. He paused before the door, giving his teammates a look filled with regretful confusion.

"I'm not leaving." Prentiss locked eyes with him. She didn't blink. Neither did he. At last, Hotch nodded and unlocked the door. He passed inside. Emily turned at the threshold. For a moment Rossi thought she had something to say to him, but then she seemed to think better of it. With a shrug and a shake of her head, she followed Aaron, closing the door with a soft, definitive click, leaving Dave on the other side.

He stood in the hallway for a moment, head bowed, listening. There was only the susurrating hiss of the hotel's air conditioning. Rossi plodded back to the elevator, feeling as though a personal crisis of faith was looming over him.

Hotch wasn't the only one who needed some time to sort things out.

XXXXXXXXXXX

A faint, lemony fragrance told the agents that housekeeping had tidied the room in their absence.

Without turning any lights on, the Unit Chief made a beeline for the freshly-made bed. He kicked off his shoes and huddled as close to the far wall as he could get, curled on his side, back to the rest of the room…the rest of the world…but particularly back toward Prentiss. His voice was muffled. "You don't have to stay. I'm fine."

She crossed the room and took a seat on the mattress edge. After a moment, she reached out and rested her hand on the indentation that was his waist. She could feel his tension. He was struggling to control himself.

It was the last thing she wanted.

"Hotch, I can't leave." She felt a quiver run through him and pressed her hand down more firmly, as though underlining her presence and intention to remain. "I don't know why…but I can't. I need you to explain it." She could feel his respiration grow ragged beneath her palm. "You said I left you before. I have to know what you saw…or…or felt. You know something now that you didn't a few hours ago. The hypnosis brought it out. I can't…I won't…" She took a deep breath, expelling it through pursed lips in a long, slow exhalation.

Hotch heard it and knew it was her 'tell.' It only surfaced when she was truly upset. As much as he was hurting inside, he couldn't ignore her need. He never could. Only this time he knew why.

"It…it was like a pact…" His words were low…private…yet they pulsed with emotion. "…I don't know how or when it began, but it was our law. Once you took me as your partner, your companion, we were tied to each other. Neither of us would ever be a-alone…ever…again." He hesitated, trying to get his inner turmoil under control. Emily spoke into the pause, softly, like something from the dim edges of memory…

"I had your back…"

Hotch snuffled, rubbing his nose before continuing, but still refusing to look at her. "I took you to see my family…my pups…my…my m-mate…" Prentiss felt her throat tighten. She knew what was coming. "That's when they came. And I trusted you. I thought we'd fight them together." Aaron's voice broke on a sob, quickly suppressed. "But when I fell…when they got me, I looked back and you were gone."

Emily's hand squeezed his waist. The body beneath her hand was taut with tension…or maybe it was the desire to escape her touch.

"They took my family. They made my children kill each other. They made me watch." She could tell he was crying now. Not even bothering to try and hide it. "I never saw you again. You left me…you left me…a-alone…" He gasped the loneliness that was the underlying theme of his life even today… "Alone…I'm alone…"

Hotch curled in on himself in a miserable, little ball and gave in to his grief. It didn't matter when or where or what he was when it had happened. It was lodged in his soul. Inescapable.

Prentiss had nothing to say. She felt overwhelmed; buried beneath waves of shame and guilt. I couldn't have done something like that, could I? She bit her lip until it hurt, watching one of the finest men she'd ever known hurting because he believed she'd betrayed him.

She wanted to talk to her mother. She wanted to touch bases with the rest of the team. She wanted to hide away from her own growing dread that Hotch might be right about her…but it wasn't really me, was it?...it was some bird-creature I'm not even sure really existed, right?...Is this for real?...

But his grief was real. And in the end, all she could do was stroke his side and whisper over and over and over…

… "I'm here…I'm here…I'm here…"