Some things can't be healed by time. Some things can't be processed by talking. Techniques he had practiced, taught, and shown others, yet nothing could help him fill this void.
As Emily left from dropping him off, he stood there in his apartment. Alone. Jack and Haley were gone, and it was up to him and his team to catch Foyet. He found it hard not to give up hope. Such a mammoth task, this guy had such self control, to stop killing for 10 years! All just to torture the previous guy. It's about control, knowing the last officer knew that he had let him off, stopped chasing him. But Hotch couldn't do that. Especially not now. Now his family depended on it.
But it was more than that. As the reality continued to set in, he tried not to the let sombre shadow colour his thoughts. He needed clarity, so the depression would have to wait.
He sat down at his desk and pored over the files, examining every single detail, nothing could be overlooked.
Sleep was a luxury he no longer afforded himself. A few hours here and there perhaps to keep functioning, but he had no time to lose, no time to waste. This wasn't helped by the fact that every time he closed his eyes, he saw Foyet standing over him, stabbing him slowly, explaining his methods, gloating.
He often caught himself wondering how he could go on, he only knew he had to. Ending it was not an option. It didn't matter the damage to himself, his son needed a father, and Haley deserved better than this. He had let her down. All his good work in the BAU shied in comparison to the life he had now stoled from her. All her friendships, support, taken out from under her. He would never forgive himself.
He turned off the light, and sat there, a fixed expression set on his face. The morning light slowly rose through the window, as he heard Emily come to the door. Another day was beginning.