Funny how this is the most alive I've felt in years. Hotch thought to himself as he sat on the bed that he and Haley had shared. He held the gun in his hands. Every sense seemed heightened. He could feel the cold steel as he positioned the barrel under his chin. He felt the sweat drip down his brow. He could hear his own heart pounding, the blood rushing through his veins. It was as if he could feel every ragged breath that entered his lungs.

He was about to kill himself. The thought sent a thrill down his spine. He briefly pondered over how ironic it was: as he was ending his life, how this was the most alive he had felt in a very long time.

This was not an impulsive decision. He had been thinking about this for a while. When Haley left him, suicide crossed his mind. But he'd quickly dismissed the idea. His team needed him. And maybe, someday, he would be able to win her back...he had never stopped loving her.

But then she died.

She was murdered.

Because of him.

This time the thoughts were harder to reject. In the first week he had been so blinded by grief, he had come very close to ending it all. But he didn't. Maybe things would get better. Maybe he would be able to move past this.

But it only became more difficult as time went on.

All the horrible, horrible things he saw every day...and the thing he had come to dread the most was his own reflection.

Aaron Hotchner couldn't stand himself.

If he had just taken the deal, Haley would still be alive...he could still hear Foyet's words. "Stop hunting me, and I'll stop hunting them."

But no, his pride got in the way. His stupid, stupid pride. His pride had gotten her killed.

He was useless as a profiler, useless as a father, useless as a husband...USELESS.

Enough thinking. He'd thought this through a million times. Imagined it, fantasized about this moment, planned it in detail...it was time.

He tensed his finger on the trigger.

"I'm sorry."