She'd sat silently at the end of his bed listening as he cried himself to sleep as he had done every night for a month. She had no idea how to help and no sure way of making things better. It's said that time heals everything, but she didn't believe it. And, judging by his silent tears and shaking body, he didn't believe it either. She got up and walked towards him, automatically smoothing out the blanket that was crumpled around his body and, bending over, kissed his hot forehead. He murmured something and she bent even closer as she heard him repeat the phrase:

"Haley, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please don't go".

Haley Hotchner, who died four weeks ago that day could only look down at the broken man who was once her lover then her husband and listen to his words – the same words he'd said on the phone when he received the divorced papers.

She'd loved him and then left him because she didn't see a way forward with their life – him in the BAU dealing with death and destruction on a daily basis and she as a wife and mother staying home with their son. Aaron had loved her and married her – and their divorce almost crippled him. His love for her was strong but the bond with their son was stronger and Haley's only wish, her plea to him on the day she died, was that Aaron, her dearest, quiet, loving, passionate Aaron, should show Jack what love meant. She hoped, she prayed, that he could. Kissing him once more, she left the room – left before once more the plea echoed round the room's confines and broke the part of her heart that Foyet didn't destroy.