A/N: You've probably all been waiting for this. I don't know if it turns out the way you expected. See for yourself.

I have to admit that I went a little experimental on this chapter concerning the breaks. I figured, if fast cuts and parallelism do awesome things for television, why not try them in literature as well?

I hope that you'll enjoy this chapter, even despite its angsty touch.

The door slammed shut behind him and Kate sagged against the nearest wall, letting her body sink slowly to the floor, defeated. A tear dropped from her chin into her shirt, but no sob escaped her mouth, no sound made it out of her closed up throat.

Her trembling hand came up to press against her heart, where it hurt and burned and ached, her rib cage bruised from the shot, her pulse hammering forcefully.

She wouldn't follow him. Not yet. Not when he had just shattered her into a million pieces like this.
She needed time to put herself back together. She didn't even know whether she could.

This was the reason she didn't like to open up. This was the reason she'd never let anyone in - because it gave them the potential to hurt her. She had been broken so many times, and she'd fought hard to glue her pieces back together, but now she feared there were too many pieces and not enough glue. She had nothing to start on. She had been reduced to dust.

Outside of her apartment, Rick was banging his forehead against the mirrored elevator wall, his fisted hands at each side of his head, clenched so tightly that his knuckles stood white and harsh against his skin.

He wouldn't run back to her. Not yet. Not when it hurt so much to look at her, to be reminded of her face beneath him as she'd laid on the ground, her eyelids struggling to stay open.

She'd gotten shot today. A real gun, a real bullet, and if it hadn't been for her Kevlar vest, she'd be dead now.

His mother had been right when she'd told him that death wasn't something he could write away with his words, and that he couldn't charm his way out of bullets.

She'd be dead now.

He'd never get to bring her coffee again, he'd never get to see her smile, her eyes as they lit up, her lips as they curved. He was sure he'd forget that smile quickly - every time he'd think of her he'd only see that look of fear, of shock, those eyes rolling back in her head.

He'd forget about her soft laugh until only the sound of that gunshot would be on the forefront of his mind.

He'd die with her. Of this he was sure. If she died, taken away from him by a murderer's bullet, or knive, or hands, he'd die right along with her.

He had been wrong. She could in fact admit that she needed someone. She needed him.

She loved him so much. The way she had never loved anyone else, apart from her parents. Unconditionally. Fully.
He'd yelled at her, he'd said mean things and true things and wrong things. Still she loved him.

Because a world without him - where would that leave her?

She'd drown without him. He wasn't just dry land beneath her feet, he was her foundation, the ground she walked on, everything she leaned on, the sky above her head, the light in the darkness of her life.

His love was what had saved her from herself. It sounded so overly dramatic, even in her own head, but as another tear rolled down her cheek, Kate acknowledged that it was the truth.

She would most probably kill him some day.

And yet he needed her.

He couldn't stay away from her, not even now, not after almost losing her, not when she was actually alive and her warm body was there to prove it. Everything inside him ached for her; only a small part of his brain kept telling him that it was stupid to love her, that she wasn't good for him, that she would rip him apart over and over again, until there was nothing left of him and even childish hope and unconditional love couldn't put him back together.

He'd ignored that part of him for most of his life, and he wasn't going to start listening to it now.

He loved her. He couldn't change it now, couldn't help it, couldn't pretend that he didn't.

He just needed some time to clear his head. To shake off this devastating image of her fearful eyes, awaiting death in those brief seconds before she'd been able to breathe again. He needed to slow down the erratic beating of his heart.

And then he would talk to her.

And maybe she'd finally understand what she meant to him.

And suddenly something clicked in her head.

She couldn't live without him. Not if he died because of something she could have prevented.

If he died because she'd brought him into danger, because her job had put him into a certain situation, because she hadn't been careful enough - she'd never survive that.

And that was most probably exactly what Rick was feeling, too.

She didn't doubt his love for her. If she did that, after all they had been through, after all she saw in his eyes every time he looked at her, then her life would be pointless, worthless, meaningless.

He was fearing for her. She understood that now.
He'd latched out at her, yelled at her, screamed ugly and hurtful things at her, because as much as she couldn't bear to live without him, he wouldn't be able to live without her.

He loved her.

Kate let her head fall back against the cold wall, sniffling away the last of her tears, her eyes puffy, her nose running.

She needed to get herself back together.
And then she needed to talk to him.

He didn't want to go home yet, so he sent a quick text to Alexis and headed for the park. He walked and walked, feeling his tears dry, his heart slow, his breathing quiet down.

He didn't see the dark blue sky, didn't feel the mild evening breeze, didn't hear the laughing teens and their barking dogs. All he saw and heard and felt was her. Memories of her, of times passed, of their days together, of cherry scented hair and smooth skin, of half smirks and rolled eyes, of glares and kisses and caresses…

It was only as the park cleared out and his feet began to hurt that he realized how much time had passed, how far he'd walked. So he turned around, texted Alexis again, and found himself a cab.

She did unimportant things to occupy her. Menial chores. Her laundry, her nails, her mail. She needed to distract her hands while her head was busy going through visions of her future, memories of her past.

She needed to realign her priorities, think through all the things she wanted to say, needed to say. She knew that they had to talk. If Rick would stay away today until after one a.m., she'd go to his loft herself, or to the Old Haunt, hunt him down wherever he was hiding. It was necessary. If they didn't solve this as soon as possible, they'd nev-

A knock on her door shook her out of her thoughts. A quick glance to her father's watch proved that it was just after midnight. It had been four hours since he'd left. With a steadying breath Kate opened the door, allowed Rick to step inside, not looking at him until she'd locked up behind him.

She'd planned out every sentence, but now that he stood before her, it all vanished into thin air.

He looked terrible. Shaken, haunted, sad and maybe still a hint angry.
"You're here" she whispered, barely audible, a statement said more to herself than towards him, in a voice so unbelieving and grateful as if he'd just cured all illnesses or walked on water.

"Kate" he breathed, the name like a prayer on his lips, an exultation.

Okay, maybe not angry.

Her heart hammered so loudly in her chest that she felt out of breath, like she'd run a marathon or chased a bad guy in her killer heels. He did that to her. His gaze was so piercing that it knocked her entire being completely off balance. He always had.

She simply couldn't stay away from him anymore, so she stepped forward, the signal clear, the shimmer in her eyes even more so.

He closed the distance between them in the blink of an eye, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her firmly into his body, enveloping all of her in his warm embrace. Her head fit perfectly into the nook of his neck, his large arms encircling her shoulders. He held her so tightly that she had trouble breathing, but she didn't care at all - her own grip on him was similar.

There was still hope. They could still make it work. She would never let him go again.

"I…" they both started at the same time and pulled apart to signal for each other to go first. Kate staunchly stayed silent, so he gave in and talked first.

"I'm not going to take back what I said" he warned, stepping away from her, but letting his hands slide down her arms and intertwine with hers.
"I meant it at the time."

Kate nodded. "I know."
Her voice was rough, her mouth suddenly dry. "And now? Do you still mean it?"

"Now I have realised that no matter what I'll try, I'll never be through with you" Rick said. His fingers gripped hers tighter. "I know it sounds cheesy, but you're in my heart, Kate. You're everything. You'll always be."

Everything she'd battled down in the last hours came back to her, the tears she thought she'd run out of suddenly rising back to close up her throat. He wanted to say more, but she stopped him with a slight shake of her head and a tug on his fingers. It was her turn.

"I struggle" she confessed. "Every time I let you in, I struggle. I have to fight down something inside of me, every time I want to share some piece of me with you. I thought I did it to protect you. Now I know that I was selfish, and that I think I did it to protect myself."

He nodded, sadly, knowingly. "I get that" he concurred. "But it's so hard, Kate. It's so hard to keep fighting for you. I thought all you needed was time, so I gave you time. I waited."

He let go of one of her hands so he could run his fingers through his damp hair. He hadn't even noticed that it had rained while he'd been out.

"I waited for three years until you let me in enough to kiss you, to make love to you, to be with you, but I'm still not in your heart, am I?"

She sucked in a trembling breath, shaking her head vividly, her eyes large. A single tear dripped from her lashes.
"Oh don't you dare question my love for you, Rick. Don't you dare it" she whispered.

He squeezed her hands, pulled her in, let his forehead rest against hers. His voice was soothing.
"I don't. I know you love me. You might not say it very often, but you show me. We've been all but living together for half a year now, Kate" he rationalized, and even though he tried to say it kindly, she still felt a pang to her heart. It was true, she mused - she didn't tell him nearly often enough.

"I know you love me" he repeated. "But what now?" he asked, his voice somewhere between choked up and desperate and pleading. "I'm supposed to watch you walk into your own death because you love me? I'm supposed to not care about the risks you take every day, because you love me?"

"No" she whispered, another tear sliding down her cheek. "Not because I love you. Because you love me. And because we love each other so much that we can't be apart."

He closed his eyes and pressed his face into hers, his lips just barely brushing hers. So close.
Kate sniffed, cleared her throat, braced herself.

"I'm reckless," she admitted. "I sometimes take very high risks, and I often don't realize it."

He pulled away slightly, needing to look at her, letting her talk it out, say things in her time, the way she saw them.

"I never thought I could hurt you with that. I'm selfish. I always thought it only concerns me whether I die or not, whether I get hurt or not. I always thought that, if I kept you safe, if I managed to bring you back to your family, it didn't matter what happened to me."

"That's not selfish" he told her softly. "That's the opposite."

She shook her head, sadness and grief in her eyes.

"I used to think my life was worth less than all the others. That if I died, not as many people would care. Ever since my mother died..." she croaked, sniffing at another tear, her eyes dark. "I was broken. Broken isn't worth much."

Her quiet statement brought tears to his own eyes. His heart was suddenly heavy, his breathing slow and shallow, restricted by the weight that now rested on his shoulders.

Yet this was exactly what he'd been asking for. That he could carry part of her burden. That she'd let him in.

He could already see how sharing this secret of hers with him visibly lightened the weight on her shoulders. How her breathing eased as she allowed him to look into the deep abyss of her shattered heart.

"You came along and you changed me, Rick. You made me a better person. You made me believe my life was worth fighting for. First your books, then your friendship, then your love. The truth is, I can't do everything on my own. I am horrible at admitting it and even worse at showing it, but I need you. I need you Rick, more than I'd like."

His hand slowly came up to her cheek, tentatively, brushing away the few tears she had shed. He leaned down and she rose to her tiptoes, her old wooly socks brushing his black shoes, and when only half an inch seperated them, they took a deep breath together.

She smelled like clothes washing detergent and he smelled like rain, but as their lips met softly, they only tasted each other. They didn't move, didn't press, didn't caress, just stood there by her front door, mouth to mouth. There was nothing urgent about the kiss, but everything desperate.

"I need you" she repeated against his lips, her nose brushing his as she changed her angle, kissed the corner of his mouth. His raised hand slid from her cheek to lay gently and unrushing against her neck, his other arm wrapped around her, his thumb tracing circles on her lower back.

She guided her lips to his jaw, sank into him, eventually let her forehead rest against his shoulder. He took a shaky breath and she could feel his chest rise and tremble, pressed against hers.

"You know that I run, Rick" she breathed into his ear. "When things get too much, I run. Today, you were the one who left. You can't be a runner too, Rick. This relationship can't survive two of us."

His large hand cupped her chin, lifted it up so he could brush another slow kiss to her lips. His eyes stayed open, locked with hers, everything that had already been said and everything they couldn't say passing wordlessly between them.

"I came back" he whispered when he pulled away. There was no objection in her eyes at his insinuation - he was saying that she didn't usually come back, not unless he ran after her, made her turn around for him - only sadness.

"Promise me that you'll always come back" she asked of him, her voice shy and unsure of herself. It hurt to realize that there was still so much to work through for the two of them, that as many good times as they had, they also had terrible ones, lots of them.

"Promise me that you won't run quite so fast" he wanted to hear in return, his fingertips ghosting along her cheek. She looked straight into his eyes, allowed him to look right into her, see the depths of her feelings.

"Always" she whispered, blinking slowly on the first syllable, so he knew that she was meaning it. He understood her promise at what she intended it to be - a declaration of her love. Like so often, she didn't say the exact words, but she meant them all the same.

"I love you, too" he replied and she smiled at him, glad that he had figured her out, and leaned up to give him a kiss.