A/N: This is what happens when I start thinking about last season's finale...and CI's not mine, and I'm leaving before I upset myself again.

I didn't know what had possessed me to go up to the prison that day. All I knew was that I'd told my detectives I'd be gone for the rest of the day, and that it had been early afternoon when I'd left. I'd seen them exchange glances as I hung up that seemingly forever-ringing phone in my office, but neither of them had said anything about it, which I was grateful for. They didn't yet know what I would end up doing; all they knew was that I was into it with IAD. There wasn't yet anything else for them to know.

I hoped there wouldn't come to be anything else for them to know. But as I made my way inside, and told the guards who I'd come to see, I wondered if there would be. Wondered if maybe I was the idiot, for coming here, to give Frank Adair another chance to drag this grudge he had against me out even longer. And then I realized that unless I got this over with, I would be left wondering what might have happened, instead of knowing what had happened, and which way I was going to go.

When he appeared, he sat, and picked up the phone that would allow us to talk, immediately starting in, some rant about his 'true friends'. I had been one of them once, I wanted to yell at him, until you started falling, until you finally went far enough that not even I could have brought you back. I wondered as I listened to him how anyone could let their own success go to their head like that, and wondered if I appeared the same way he did to some people.

I hoped I didn't. But there was no telling. This whole incident had started to make me doubt myself, and it wasn't something I wanted…wasn't something I liked, either. He probably knew better than I did how it felt to doubt yourself, how it felt to feel as if you had to keep on a certain façade so that the world wouldn't see you for who you really were. So that they wouldn't see you vulnerable, weak, even. So that they would see you as you wanted them to see you, someone to look up to, not someone to look down on in disgust.

But he had already reached that point, and I had yet to see if I had, and if I would. I wondered if it was really so hard to see through people, and knew that it was. Some people were just impossible to see through, no matter how hard one tried. The problem, I mused, as I finally said something in reply to whatever it was that Frank had said, was that I hadn't tried. My detectives had. They had seen what I had not, and only at the end was I willing to see this man before me for what everyone else already knew he was.

It was his last question that really got to me, that mocking tone, that smug look on his face that made me want to punch him, even though I was already in enough trouble as it was.

"Did you think you were worth it, Jimmy?"

I had been sitting back for most of the conversation, but at this, I leaned forward, meaning to say something else to him, but before I could, something caught my eye.

It was my reflection, in the glass that separated us. His voice faded slightly as I looked at myself, ignoring him, but listening at the same time.

It was in that moment that I wondered who the person I saw was…and at the same time wondered if I was still who I thought I was.