A/N: This chapter is a little shorter, but there's a reason for this: Flack finds out what is troubling Angela, and we see a side of him that we aren't exposed to very often. Thank you to my reviews, I truly appreciate it.

Don't own them, never will, original characters are mine, song belongs to Nickelback, haven't we been through this before?

Reviews always welcome

How the hell'd we wind up like this?

Why weren't we able

To see the signs that we missed

Try to turn the tables

I wish you'd unclench your fists

And unpack your suitcase

Lately there's been too much of this

But don't think it's too late

Someday- Nickelback

Angela and I had always said that if we had any problems, we would talk them out like responsible adults. Surely we were old enough and mature enough to do so… weren't we? Well, today, actually for the past few months, we seemed to be falling apart at the seams. I couldn't stand to be around Angela and she couldn't stand to be around me. We were snapping at each other, stepping around each other, actually I think she threw a glass at me before I went off to work.

I couldn't concentrate on work that day. Even Mac noticed that something was wrong. As much as I tried to hide it, it was obvious. My eyes were bloodshot, my tie was loose, my hair was mussed, and I felt dizzy. I tried my best to think of what was going on in this little interrogation booth, how if we got this bastard it would be one less drug dealer on the street, but I couldn't.

I left the precinct that night expecting everything in the house to be empty and trashed, but it wasn't. Angela was patiently waiting at the kitchen table, a bottle of water in hand. We needed to talk this out… it was important. I sat down with her and looked at her solemnly.

"Angela…"

She held up a hand. Clearly it was her turn to speak. Until she was done I had to listen.

"Don, I'm sorry," she signed to me. "I know it was wrong… I'm not sure what it was, but something's changed…" she stopped.

I narrowed my eyes.

"Things aren't the same as they used to be…" she signed to me again. "We're too very different people, Don, but maybe we're too different."

I shook my head. I wasn't sure what she meant by this. Did she want to talk this out? Did she need some time to think about it? What did she want from me?

"We can't keep this up anymore," she signed. "It's no good."

I shook my head. What was she talking about? We had our struggles, all couples did, but we always worked through them. What made this time so different? Why was this different from any other fight we'd ever had?

"It's been happening too often," she told me. "We're arguing all the time; it's not good for Charlotte to hear us…"

"So we've hit a rough patch," I broke in. "We've hit rough patches before, and we've always come through them…"

"But this time, it's the worst it's ever been," she had tears in her eyes. "I threw a glass at you; I've never done that before…" Angela was close to crying. "Don, I'm so sorry… I've got to tell you…"

I waited patiently.

"I'll always love you, Don, you gave me Charlotte, but…" I was still waiting. "But I'm not in love with you anymore." She pushed something toward me, stuck in a manila envelope.

Divorce papers.

She wanted a divorce.

I felt the tears welling in my eyes. I couldn't believe what was right in front of me. Had my wife just handed me divorce papers?

How had it ended up like this? Had we really been in this much trouble, and I just hadn't seen it?

I got up, and retreated to my study in the basement of the house.

And I cried.