A/N: I suck at updating: proven fact. But I LOOOOVE reviews! So, let's make a deal…? (Not like Foyet, this benefits us both ;)) I update in a week, but ONLY (and I mean ONLY) if you give me twenty reviews for THIS chapter. How does that sound?

Don't forget: 100th reviewer gets a one-shot! Any plot!

P.S. Does anyone know what TV show the character Godot (bartender from last chapter) is from? ;) If you guess correctly, I'll give you a drabble of your choice with prompt!

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His head pounded relentlessly and his stomach churned at every thought. He tried to stand up, but he saw stars. He fell back onto his bed and a few seconds later, leaned over and emptied his stomach of all its contents from the night before.

Wait, what happened last night, anyways?

Hotch desperately tried to remember what happened last night, but his hangover overpowered him. He remembered a call from Haley, crying, and practically being drowned in various shots of alcoholic beverages. He covered his ears and closed his eyes tightly when his cell phone let out a piercingly loud ring. He cursed and pushed the green button.

"Hotchner," He grunted.

"Hotch? It's JJ. We have a case." The muffled feminine voice said from the other line. He could hear the tiredness in her voice.

"Mhm," He mumbled in an almost dazed tone.

"Hotch?" He could practically hear her frown in confusion. "Is everything alright?"

"Uh…yeah, JJ. I'll be there soon." He mumbled once again. "Hey, could you bring some Tylenol? I'm out."

"Hotch?" JJ questioned her boss's odd behavior.

"Hmm?" He practically moaned tiredly.

When there was no response but the shuffling of sheets, him probably making his bed, she gathered her information and made a connection. "It's Haley…isn't it?"

"Guess you should be the profiler and not me." He heavily sighed. "Yeah…she um…well I don't remember really." He sadly smirked.

"Have you been drinking?" She asked, motherly concern filling her voice.

"Just a few…last night. My hangover's pretty bad." He rubbed his eyes and ran his free hand through his already scruffled hair.

"I'll bring the Tylenol, you bring the coffee. How's that?" She asked after a thoughtful pause.

"Sounds great. Thanks, JJ, you're a saint."

"No problem, Hotch. You might be my boss, but you're my friend first."

"See you soon." He said and hung up, reaching for his black suit and dress shirt. He swore as he tripped face-first over a disarrayed shoe.

He could already tell today would be a long one.

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By the time the aspirin and coffee had taken full effect, Hotch was feeling back to normal again.

Or at least mostly.

He couldn't help but think he was missing something important, something he might have done or seen last night, but thanks to his large alcoholic consumption, he was overruled with confusion.

He also had the worst cold in the history of colds. He was sneezing and rubbing his eyes all day, partially from exhaustion and being ill, and if he wasn't doing that, he was sniffling. He even had one of the trainees run out and get him some medicine because it was so incredibly unbearable.

He couldn't focus on the case, which made Gideon and Rossi highly suspicious, being the trained profilers they are. Half way through the day, the two agents sat Hotch down in the conference room and stared at him with serious, concentrated faces.

"…What?" Hotch asked as he continued to stare at him in complete and utter silence.

"What's up with you today, Aaron?" Rossi bluntly asked.

Hotch was taken aback for a minute, and after pondering his question stood up in frustration and paced the room.

"Well, let's see, Dave." Aaron angrily ridiculed. "My wife is leaving me and taking my son in the process, who, might I add, I haven't seen in two weeks. My head has a constant pounding no matter how many pills I take, plus I have this ghastly cold. And the worst, I can't remember a damn thing I did last night!" He ended his rant, with a furious, but now less tense, scowl on his face.

"You can't focus on your work, let alone this local case and bodies are constantly appearing, Aaron!" Rossi raised his voice at the man who was equally angry, his fuming voice trying to be heard atop his. Gideon tried to be a mediator, raising his voice at an attempt to calm the two agents down, but failing miserably. Gideon walked out the door, frustrated and determined to solve this case-even if he had to do it himself.

Then he saw her walk past the glass pane windows and approach his co-worker's desk. She greeted her with a shy, yet firm handshake. He saw her sneeze into her sweatshirt, she was dressed casually and relatively modestly besides her low cut shirt, and thankfully take the Kleenex Elle offered her. He sniffled; his own cold bothering him, and blinked…it had all come back to him, just like that.

The phone call…the bartender…the park…the picnic bench…and her.

It seems not only Hotch had connected the pieces, but Rossi, too.

"She's the prostitute who witnessed one of our victim's abductions." He paused and continued his thesis after a pregnant pause. "You slept with her."

He merely nodded, collapsing into a chair and burying his face in his hands.

"What the hell were you thinking, Aaron?!" He spoke harshly, too harshly. "You got drunk. You slept with a prostitute, which by the way, you aren't officially divorced yet. And all the while we were working on catching a cold-blooded killer who's currently on the loose."

"You sound like Strauss." He mumbled, irritated.

"Sometimes I have to so some sense gets through your thick skull."

Neither one spoke for a while. They processed the now-known facts and settled down before Rossi spoke in a kind, brother-like tone.

"Aaron…I know you're lost. Believe me; I've been there three times." He almost chuckled. "But prostitutes and alcohol…it's not the way to go. You've got a job and a son who looks up to you-"

"And whom I also never see anymore." He growled.

"But once this blows over and everything is sorted out you will be able to see him whenever you want." He looked at his still skeptical friend. "It gets better, Aaron. Take it day by day."

"What do you expect me to do?" He asked, finally meeting his friend's eyes before he left the room.

"Focus on this case, take care of that cold of yours, and like I said: take it day by day."

The door shut, leaving Hotch alone and deep in thought.

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A/N: I know, I know…it takes me 3-4 months to update, and you get this barely 1,000 words, unexciting chapter. I suck. But I don't think this story does, does it?

The Profiler's Choice Awards 2013 have just been announced! If You like this fic and want to see it awarded, please make sure to vote! It's super easy and all you need to do is go to the Profiler's Choice Awards 2013 forum! Thanks in advance my supporters!