The Telepath's Daughter

Into the Woods...Again...

At the old doctor's mention of Melinda, Hotch's scotch-induced haze burned off in a jagged spike of adrenalin.

He sprinted to the guest room, grabbed his shoes and sped back to the doctor's side so he could glean more information about his goddaughter while he put them back on.

"Nathaniel! Tell me what you know. Is Melinda really missing or is this some weird wrinkle in the ESP-er stuff you guys do?"

Telepathy happens in a fraction of the time necessary for other forms of communication. The doctor had already alerted Reid. He'd also made Julio aware of Melinda's peculiar disappearance. Even as his mind kept questing outward, focusing its incredible power on searching for the signature thoughts that were Melinda's, the doctor could still keep Hotch in the loop.

"I don't know. Aaron, I've told you before that when you people visit, surprising developments seem to occur. The child, Melinda, in many ways is a new form of creature."

Hotch froze in the act of tying his sneakers. With slow deliberation and some dread, he raised his eyes to lock gazes with the doctor. "What do you mean, 'new form of creature?' Are you saying Melinda's not...not quite human?"

The doctor raised one quizzical brow. "C'mon, Aaron. I know what you think. I know what all of you think." When Hotch kept a determinedly blank expression, Nathaniel sighed. "You love the child like your own, but admit it: you're afraid of her, too."

Lips pressed into a thin line, the Unit Chief bent and concentrated on tying his shoes.

"Aaron, it's alright. It actually does you credit."

Hotch grunted. "Not sure about that. Doesn't matter. What matters is Melinda." A note of displaced anger entered his tone. "I thought you kept track of everyone in this place, Nathaniel. All that talk about knowing crimes before they even have a chance to go from intent to action. Was that just a big smokescreen? Was it?"

"No. A number of us can sense the thoughts of the entire town. It's hard to explain to a non-ESP-er, but...it's like looking out over an ocean. You see the tide moving. You see waves in various stages of formation. You see flotsam and jetsam surfing the waves. It's a complicated, organic process that occupies multiple tiers that keep weaving among themselves, tossing new things to the top and creating new patterns beneath the surface. Not everyone can grasp the entire, moving existence of it."

"Well then where's Melinda? In all that...ocean?...where's Mellie?"

The doctor sighed and placed an apologetic hand on Hotch's shoulder. "I'm telling you as best I can how things look from my, and a few others', vantage points. But I can't tell you anything when there's nothing to see. And right now...that's your Melinda. I can't see her or even sense her."

Hotch felt himself tremble on some unwelcome, deep, emotional level. "Has that ever happened before? Ever?"

The doctor removed his hand from his guest's shoulder. "Let's not think about that." He fixed a tenuous smile on his face that did little to look hopeful. "Let's go look for your goddaughter."

Hotch's voice roughened. "Nathaniel, tell me."

The lines creasing the doctor's cheeks and forehead seemed to sag, giving him the sorrowful look of a man who'd delivered bad news far too many times.

"It happens when we die."

In silence, the two men grabbed their jackets and headed out into the crisp, autumn night.

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Ana wanted with all her heart and soul to join Reid in the search for Melinda, but two things deterred her. First, she was hardly in any shape to engage in activity that might require speed or stamina, or might risk physical injury. Second, and worse...they had no idea where to look.