He watches her from the break room of the precinct. Watches her and the boys explain to their captain what happened. Watches as she has moments of fear flit across her face as she thinks about yet again what happened. He's been giving her space, but he's ready to stop. Ready to pull her into his arms and get her to talk to him. He understands that if he had barged into that room before she had taken the shot, he could have spooked the suspect, caused Ryan or someone else to be shot in the confusion. But he also needs her to understand that he was worried, that they were taking too long, that he just wanted to help.

Rick watches them file out of Montgomery's office. Watches as the older man stops Kate with a hand to her shoulder, says something that makes her nod, and then disappears back into his office. She heads his way with her arms crossed over her chest, or maybe they're just wrapped around herself.

"Hey," he says softly. "You're not in trouble are you?"

She shakes her head, her gaze focused down on her feet. "I did what I had to do. Montgomery said the Brass will understand. But Eliza Todd may never get answers about her husband's murder now. And I know how much that sucks."

He wants to hold her to his chest and bury his head in her hair, but this is her place of work and he promised to be professional. But does professionalism go out the window when she's had the kind of day she's had?

"I'm sorry I didn't stay in the car."

She finally looks up at him, her gaze soft, and she reaches out to touch his arm.

"You were worried, I get that."

"Kate, if I blew it today - if you want me to stop -"

"No," she says, shaking her head again. "Not every day is like this. Don't stop before it's barely begun."

He nods, covering her hand on his arm with his own. "So how are you doing with all of this?"

"A man is dead because of me. It's a lot to take in."

"Are they letting you leave for the rest of the day?"

He wants to take her home, take her mind off of the day, get her to smile again.

She scrubs a hand over her face. "No, I have to fill out paperwork. But you can leave. There's not much to be learned from me sitting at my desk anyway."

"Will you come over when you get off?"

"Rick -"

"I just want to make sure that you're okay."

"I'm fine."

She's not. She's definitely not. He's known her for long enough, knows her well enough, to know that she is not fine.

"Rick, I have to go deal with this. Can I just - I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Yeah okay."

She squeezes his arm before walking over to her desk. Detective Beckett may still need her space, but he hopes that his Kate will come to him later.

She doesn't. It's nearly eight and he really doubts that she's still stuck at work. He wonders how long she's going to let Beckett rule her headspace.

Rick heads down to her apartment and knocks, waiting for her to answer. When she does he takes note of her wet hair, curling around her shoulders.

"I was going to come up," she tells him, stepping out of the doorway so he can come inside. "I just wanted to eat and shower first."

"I'm just worried about you is all."

She exhales a sharp breath. "Don't be. I told you, I'm fine."

"You're not fine, Kate. I know you well enough to know that."

She closes the door behind him before leading him over to her couch with her hand at the small of his back

"I don't know what you want me to say, Rick. I'm dealing with it the best that I can."

He knows that she's dealing with it. But she's doing it silently, keeping it all bottled up inside. He wants to see some other emotion beyond her police facade. So he keeps prodding, praying it doesn't end up biting him in the ass.

"If I hadn't been there today, would you have even told me what happened?" he asks, sitting down next to her.

She's silent, folding her hands into her lap.

"I don't know," she says after a moment's hesitation. "I killed someone today isn't something I would want to work into a normal conversation. But you probably would have noticed that something was off with me and asked about it."

"Something's off," he repeats. "See, you're not fine."

"No, no I'm not Rick, but what do you expect? I had to tell Mrs. Todd today that I had been forced to kill the main suspect in her husband's murder. That we can keep looking, but our only lead is dead and we never got any answers from him before it happened. And I have to go talk to IAB tomorrow and explain what happened, something which I am really not looking forward to. So no, I'm not fine. But the more we talk about it, the more I think about it, the worse it's going to get. So just let me say that I'm fine and move on."

There it is. Anger. His something more.

Rick pulls her against him and she immediately repositions herself so she's sitting on his lap, curling into his chest. Her head hits his shoulder and he doesn't speak, just listening to the sound of her breath. It's almost weird to think that her work persona is so different from the person he's known for years, but the longer he holds her, the more he feels her detective shell cracking off. Kate is the one pressing her nose against his neck, not Beckett.

"When I heard that shot go off," Rick starts, scraping his hand up her back, "I worried that you were the one who had been shot. And I started thinking about what I would do if it had been you. About what I would do if I lost you."

She props her chin up on his shoulder to look at him, waiting for him to continue.

"I can't lose you, Kate. Not again and certainly not permanently."

She runs her hand up his chest. "I'm not going anywhere."

He turns his head to make eye contact with her. "I don't want you to lose me either. I'll stay in the car."

"You can't always stay in the car. It sort of defeats the purpose of what you're doing this for. We'll get you a vest, a bullet proof one."

His eyes widen in excitement. "Can it say writer on it instead of police?"

That finally gets her to laugh. "Whatever you want. But you have to stay back, let us lead. I'm glad we avoided putting you in that room with us today, but I can't promise that's always going to happen. You have a daughter to think about. You can't try to be the hero. You can't forget that you're there to observe and not to participate."

"Kate, if we get stuck in some situation and I'm your only backup for some reason, I'm not just going to stand back and let you die."

"You can't sacrifice yourself for me, Rick. I don't have a kid like you do. I will not let Alexis go through what I went through. I won't let you get taken from her."

He goes silent for a moment, stuck on the mental image of Alexis as Kate crying over him the way she cried for Johanna. He doesn't like it. Not one bit.

"I shadowed a CIA operative and lived to tell about it," Rick offers up as a consolation. "I think I can handle a homicide detective."

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, but what were her cases like?"

"How do you know it was a her?" Rick challenges.

"Because I've read Derrick Storm. Clara Strike. She was CIA."

"Oh. Right. Well, some of her cases were pretty intense and I handled them just fine."

Kate sighs, settling back against him. "Just be careful, okay?"

"I will if you will."

She lets out another sigh, this one more content than the first. "So what was her name?"

"Whose name?"

"The real Clara."

He smiles, nudging her just under the ribs. "Is someone jealous of my previous muses?"

"I'm not jealous," she says defensively. "It was just a question."

"Right," Rick says with a smirk. "Her name is Sophia. Sophia Turner. And before you ask, sure she was pretty, but not as pretty as you."

She groans, nudging him back. He smiles down at her, almost afraid to ask what he wants to, worried about bringing back down her mood.

"Look I know you said that you didn't want to talk about it, and I won't push, but you know that you can talk to me about anything, right?"

She nods against his chest. "I know. Believe me, if I wanted to talk about it period, you'd be the one I'd turn to."

"You used to tell me everything," he says softly.

She stretches her neck upwards, her lips connecting with his jaw. "I still do."