In his New York bedroom, he lies wounded and confused. Watching the nine o'clock news, waiting on a late night call, knowing the phone will never ring; she won't ring. He doubts it's what she wants, but he's tired of waiting. He picks up his jacket and runs downstairs to hail a cab, giving the address to her apartment. It takes ten minutes before he's standing at her doorstep. He picks up the phone and calls her.
She says, "I was fast asleep."
He slumps against her door and apologizes. "Kate. I need you to know that I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to be here for you, through this. This depression you're feeling…it doesn't have to control your life, love."
"Everything I've heard, everything I remember…tortures me. How can I kill what does not bleed? Rick, I-I'm such a mess, I'm so b-broken. Can you tell me what it is you need? 'Cause I've been trying to understand why my mother is dead and still I cannot see."
These wasted moments bring him to his knees, crumpling against her door. He wants to give her everything she needs. He wants to run into her apartment and hold her, kiss her, take away all her pain. Most of all, he wants to bring her mother back from the dead.
Morning is her darkest time; in the night like this, she finds, there is comfort without light. Since the death of her mother, she's been living with no hope. 'A shame to let it go,' she told her therapist. It was drowning her so slowly. Why live if her mother couldn't? But, she's never felt so far away from the person she used to be, the person she wants to be. "I wonder what she'd see, from the corner down the street; if she met me today."
She's breathing on the other end of the phone, waiting. "Rick, can you tell me what it is you need?"
He knows she's trying to let him go, pardon him from having to be here with her.
"I just need you Kate. I want to give you everything." He whispers, crying. "In the letter that you wrote me last, those words…they burned to read. Do you remember what you said?"
"Loving me is a great mistake, 'cause I do not love myself. I'm sorry if you felt that maybe you could offer help to someone like me." Her voice trembles, and he knows she's crying now, too.
"Katherine Beckett, I love you with all of my heart and all of my soul. I will love you with everything I have until the day I take my last breath. You are an extraordinary person; this depression doesn't define who you are. Losing your mother doesn't define who you are. The pain you feel is human, and the ability you have to feel this loss, this weakness in your soul, makes you strong, Kate." He pushes himself up off her door and digs into his pocket for his keys, searching for the spare key to her apartment. He can hear her breathing through the phone, though she says nothing.
Unlocking her door, he quietly enters and shuts it behind him, relocking it. He startles when he turns around and sees her standing there, small and vulnerable in her oversized shirt and baggy pajama pants. Her cheeks are stained with tears and her eyes are watery. He clicks off his cell phone and throws it towards her couch; whether it lands there or not he doesn't care. He's wrapping his arms around her sniffling form, hugging her tightly, running a hand through her hair, and kissing her forehead softly.
"Rick." Her voice is broken, crumbling. "I lost my mother." She breaks down in his arms, sobbing.
"I know. Sssh, I know. It's okay to feel broken Kate; I'm so sorry baby. I'm so sorry." He murmurs in her ear, holding her tightly so she doesn't collapse to the floor. He gathers her up in his arms and holds her against him, barely faltering under her weight. Slowly making his way to her bedroom, he keeps whispering in her ear and kissing her forehead.
It's when he's tucked her in bed and he's lying there next to her, arm around her waist, that she speaks again. "I've been searching for a meaning. But every word feels meaningless. And I just have this ache in my soul that I can't kill."
He moves in closer to her, strokes her cheek. He murmurs, "The hardest part of losing, is the memory of the win. And the hardest part of letting go is when you think you never can or want to. But someday Kate, you'll be able to think of your mother and smile and laugh and remember the years of happiness you had with her. And when you're ready to let her go, I'll be here, right here beside you."
She shifts her head slightly, looking up at his face. "When mom died, so did my heart. But you're slowly putting it back together. Thank you." Her voice is quiet and timid, but he hears the sincerity behind it, and pulls her tighter against him.
"Always, Kate."