The Telepath's Daughter

Dreams

Melinda stirred in her sleep.

She'd always been a child who dreamt in vivid, vibrant colors. She loved to fly in her dreams and would often wake with inexplicably sore shoulders as though her muscles had been supporting wings. Sometimes she'd see things that she couldn't explain, or hear things that made no sense. Yet.

Sometimes she felt the presence of others. She couldn't quite reach them, but she knew they were somewhere different. Somewhere else. Waiting.

She was sure someday she'd find them.

In her waking hours, she knew of the forbidden areas of her parents' minds. She'd been warned away from certain memories and, being aware that there would be consequences if she disobeyed, Melinda respected the restrictions that had been laid out for her.

But she couldn't control where her mind went when she slept.

And something was calling to her.

Someplace dark green, cool and quiet in a way she had never known. At the same time it was filled with noise and company. There was a faint echo of familiar voices: Mommy, Daddy, Uncle Aaron, Uncle Dave. It puzzled Melinda's subconscious in a delightful way.

She didn't realize that Mommy and Daddy were talking to the deep-sea sound of the old doctor while she slept. But that green, quiet place called a little louder than usual.

Melinda smiled and snuggled deeper into her lacy, lavender bedding that made her think of magic and mystery and something about a toy unicorn.

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Aaron Hotchner twisted and turned in his sleep.

When he'd left the BAU after a long day, everyone else had already gone home. Except Reid. He'd slowed as he passed Reid's desk and had raised one brow in eloquent query: Need help? The young genius had shaken his head and partially turned away, dismissing the offer.

Hotch didn't give it another thought. He went home, touched bases with his son, Jack, and settled into his current routine: a little homework, a little dinner, a little father-time, and then bed. But late in the night something troubled his rest. It was just out of reach. Faint echoes and colors and emotions that his subconscious still worked hard to compartmentalize.

If that was all there was to it, Hotch would have awakened and shaken off what was merely a vague, bad dream. But there was something lovely about it, too. Something accepting and quiet and peaceful. And that loveliness worked as a balance, keeping Hotch's psyche poised between wakefulness and deep, restorative sleep, keeping him in a stressful balance between horror and wonder.

The night would leave him restless and hungry for something he couldn't quite name.

He would open his eyes and feel a longing for someplace comforting and disturbing.

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Reid and Ana were likewise less than refreshed when morning came.

The old doctor had told them there was no rush, nothing to worry themselves about at the moment, but he wanted to be sure Ana came north for her son's birth. I'll explain everything then. His words were as compelling as the sea, as irresistible as the tides. Besides, Ana had wanted to go there anyway.

They had been using the pediatrician for Melinda that the doctor had recommended based on the man's being one of the gifted few who left the doctor's sanctuary and served in his own way as a safe haven for people whose children were likewise gifted. But he was the only ESP-er medical professional in the area. When it came to bringing a new life into the world, Reid and Ana agreed that you couldn't have enough specialized help with a newborn as unique as they knew their son would be. They didn't like having to wait for whatever mystery the doctor was harboring until they could be face to face, but they both trusted him implicitly.