Disclaimer: Me own nothing, no.

A drink to win the game ~

Hotch looked at the glass in front of him, his eyes almost closing, biting down on his lower lip as he reached for more of the burning liquor. He knew how wrong this whole thing was, the logical side of his brain telling him to put the drink down and just walk away but then the other side of him, was just telling him how much better he was going to feel, how much better he was feeling by the drink.

He shook his head and sighed, putting his hand on his forehead before bringing the drink to his lips again and quickly swallowing it. He shook his head, tilting his head back and groaning out loud. He knew how much of a headache he was going to have in the morning, but that still didn't stop him as he reached out for the bottle again, and again, and again.

He laughed bitterly to himself when he was done, walking to the other side of his office to collapse onto the couch, wishing he didn't have to do this to himself every time after a hard case.

He wished he didn't blame himself for everything and anything; the way his team was slowly dying, he laughed again and shook his head – they thought he didn't know, but he did, he knew everything that went on around him.

He observed them every single day, watching them sink deeper and deeper into a state of depression. He sighed at the thought, knowing he was doing the same, which was the only reason he had never said anything.

He would watch Rossi tap his foot in annoyance and then be running out the doors within the second, to have what he thought to be a secret smoke. He looked over at the bottle on his desk, Rossi smoking was the least of his problems.

He closed his eyes as he thought about the rest of his team, wishing the old team would come back, along with him – they had all gotten lost along the way, and none of them knew how to get back.

He opened his eyes to look at the photograph he had of all of them, smiling a little and then shaking his head, running his fingers through his hair. He wanted to go out there when they all got in tomorrow and tell them that he knew – that he understood, that he wanted to help them, if they could help him too.

He thought about Reid – the youngest member of the team – and frowned, he saw the way he would shake, his pale face, he knew exactly what was wrong with him, he knew how Reid would deal with any pain. He wasn't stupid.

Then there was Morgan, the problem was the same, just not as severe – he knew Morgan did it to feel good about himself, about his job. They all just wanted to forget what happened during the cases that seemed to be getting worse and worse. He noticed the distance in Morgan's eyes, the way his hand shook when he was getting ready to leave and go home.

And then Emily; he shuddered at the thought of those cuts he had seen running up her arm, just the once, she had never let a jacket slip up her arm again. He wondered if she knew that he had seen them, shaking the thought of, knowing she would have tried to explain them.

JJ... he loved her but of course she didn't know. The change in her was obvious, from the moment her husband left her, he saw something change in her. It wasn't long until it became obvious to him. He would watch her eat something, even an apple sometimes, and then nearly run into the nearest bathroom, coming back half an hour later with a smile on her face, just to prove to herself that she was fine.

He wanted to hold her in his arms, telling her that he knew, he wanted to look all of them in the eyes and tell them that he knew about all of them – that they were all hurting. But he knew he couldn't, it was their way of dealing with it and he knew that just telling them he knew about it wouldn't stop them.

He put his head back on the couch and heaved a deep sigh, an addictions an addiction because it always hurts the same.

~ The End ~

A/N: Review, good ending or not?