TW: Alcoholism, verbal abuse, grief, mourning.

Addiction (n): The fact or condition of being addicted to a particular substance, thing, or activity. Can refer to a physical and/or mental addiction and is not limited merely to alcohol and/or drugs.

Sobriety, meetings, falling off the wagon - don't tell him this, don't drink that, not while he's around. Did I do something wrong? Is today the day he'll fall apart?

Brenda Leigh Johnson had experienced more than her fair share of pain throughout almost 48 years. From pedophiles to serial murderers, she'd seen the worst of the worst, unable to shield herself from the pure evil lurking around almost every turn. But nothing had prepared her for the utter chaos that'd quickly become her life. Here; Los Angeles, Fritz, Goldman, Terrell Baylor - every decision being questioned, constant supervision, always one breath away, one misstep from a lawsuit or some sort of disciplinary action.

It'd taken almost everything she had to continue working, even getting out of bed became a chore. If only she could go back, just for a moment, and erase some of those mistakes that'd seemed so insignificant at the time. But if the City of Los Angeles wouldn't prosecute, how could she ever truly serve justice to her victims? She'd merely picked up the slack. Honestly, they should be thanking her, not assigning her babysitters, second-guessing every confession she acquired, taking credit for successes she'd so rightfully earned. If the lawsuit hadn't nearly broken her enough, Mama's death had nailed the coffin shut.

Weeks had passed and yet she was still unable to shake herself out of the haze, the fog that'd so easily settled - clouding her vision and what little good judgment she had left. The world lost color, turning muted shades of grey and black. Going through the motions, life beyond this grief - the darkness - no longer seemed necessary. Turning inward, she became a shell of the strong, vibrant, stubborn Chief who usually walked the halls of Major Crimes. Everyone had all but disappeared, walking on eggshells, attempting to keep their distance. Of course, initially they'd tried to talk some sense into the woman, encouraging her to share the demons that now resided so firmly in her conscious. But ever the Johnson, she'd shut everyone out, preferring to process in her office, amid candy that never talked back, never demanded an answer to the questions she couldn't even begin to understand. What had Mama wanted to say? How would she move on? When would things actually get better?

Eventually, she was forced outside - she couldn't hide behind her office door forever. Late at night, while Fritz slept peacefully, completely unaware of the internal turmoil his wife was currently experiencing, she'd visit her other friend Merlot. Always the pushover, Agent Howard allowed this pity party to continue well beyond the standard window of grieving. Although, was their really an expiration date on grief? A window of time that was considered socially acceptable before it began to border dangerously close to a full-on obsession?

Yes, Fritz had been a good sport. Allowing his flailing wife time, giving her the space she seemed to demand. Two months later, they'd become really great roommates. With each passing day, they drifted further. Soon AA meetings were coming up almost nightly, Brenda finding herself alone, nursing a gallon of ice cream and her fourth glass of wine. The few times they did interact, feelings usually escalated and full-on blowouts became the norm. Fritz couldn't understand where his wife had gone, how she'd so quickly turned into a skeleton of the woman he'd once loved. Intimacy ceased, Brenda constantly shooting him down, even when he practically begged. After a few too many "no's", he started to let her know, in no uncertain terms, exactly how she'd ruined his life. How worthless and pathetic she was. And soon, with everything else piling around, she began to believe she was truly unlovable.

He'd also started drinking…