After carefully closing the door to her room, he had marched back to his office for the first time of the day. It had been a long, long day and it wasn't even close to being finished. He directed himself towards the chair behind the massive oak desk and sat down. He leaned back, his arms behind his neck and he breathed in a couple of times. He closed his eyes letting the sizzling afternoon rays warm his face as took a moment for himself; he needed to get his spirits back before continuing. After a moment, he repositioned himself steadily in the chair and picked up the phone. Searching for the little yellow post-it in his desk and verifying the digits he had taken down, he composed.

After 2 rings the person on the other end of the call answered, "Hello?"

"Hey Jim, it's me. Ste-" the doctor started.

"Yeah. I know. I recognized you Marx. Is my daughter ok?" he asked even though he seemed to have given up. The doctor understood where the hopelessness was coming from, their last couple of conversations hadn't been easy and he felt bad for his friend. Jim sounded exhausted; he hadn't been sleeping well since his daughter had been committed. Steve, concerned for his well-being, had offered to write him a prescription for sleeping pills, but Jim had shrugged it off, so he didn't push it.

Steve was happy to be the bearer of good-ish news today. "It's actually why I called. We spoke today. Nothing very coherent, but we spoke. It's a very big step in the right direction. I thought you'd like to know."

The doctor could make out a loud sigh of relief on the other end. "You don't know how happy I am to hear you say that. So, this means she's doing better?" His tone seemed lighter, to the great pleasure of Dr. Marx. This man hadn't had the easiest past couple of years.

"She's engaging which is a very good sign, but I can't tell you she's not confused. I'm hopeful, though." The doctor had chosen to omit some of the events of the day. He wasn't lying, but there was no need to worry the man even more; Jim had enough on his plate already.

"Thank you. Thank you so much Stephan. I should have come to you sooner. I should never have let it get that bad. I never…"

"This is not your fault, Jim. None of this is."

"Oh, but it is. I should never have…" and his voice wandered off, he was clearly lost in his thoughts.

FlLASHBACK

3 YEARS AGO.

As he heard the sound of clinking keys, he could make out the movements of someone clearly struggling to unlock the front door. He jumped from the couch. Approaching the entrance, he watched as his daughter came through the door. He was still slightly startled by her looks, he could never get used to it. He could barely recognise his girl with smudged up make-up, tussled hair and a skirt that was barely long enough to cover her ass.

He wasn't sure yet how this would all pan out, but he wouldn't let her flee the confrontation like she always managed to do. They were going to talk. Tonight. He quickly approached her, the relief predominant in his voice, "God, Katie. You had me worried sick. Where were you?"

"I was out," she answered as she tugged on her heels, one of her hands steadily pressing on the wall beside her, needing its help to prevent herself from falling over.

"No kidding you were out. You've been out for 2 days. I was about to call the cops, Kate," he suddenly sounded angrier. He loved her, but she was seriously pushing his buttons.

"Geez, dad, just relax," she said as she finally managed to bare her feet from the heels and headed towards the bathroom.

She had him wrapped around her little finger from the day she was born, but that was it. He had waited; he had tried to be patient. He knew her mother's death had been hard on her, but enough was enough. He grabbed her by the arm, making her turn around towards him and halting her route. "Sit down," he commanded as he pointed the couch.

She rolled her eyes and smirked. "What's this about, dear old dad?" she asked as she approached her face from his, their noses barley an inch away, and pinched his cheek, like this was all a joke.

Looking into those green eyes, he suddenly lashed out, "You're high again, aren't you?"

"So?" she answered with defiance but avoiding his stare.

"Katherine Houghton Beckett, this has to stop. It has to stop right now. I can't take it anymore. I was fine with you dropping out of Stanford and coming back home after your m-"

"Don't." she loudly cut off with rage, but he was still not letting go of the grasp he had on her wrist.

"It's been almost 2 years, Katie. And what are you doing? Nothing. You need to get a grip, make something useful of yourself."

"I'm 21, dad. Nothing wrong with having a little bit of fun."

"Bringing random jackasses in my house every other day is NOT a little bit of fun, Katherine. It's plain disrespect. Getting high daily is NOT a little bit of fun. It's dangerous and reckless, especially considering the crowd you're hanging out with." he uttered. "I have nothing wrong with a little bit of fun, but this is not what this is. This is not fun," he continued as his hand motioned towards her.

As she was about to storm off, he tugged her towards the couch and sternly said "Sit."

When he gave her a little push so she'd fall back on the couch, a small bag fell out of her skirt's pocket. They both watched as the bag hit the living room carpet. Kate slightly moved her feet over so it would be concealed from his view, but he had already seen it. Calmly removing her foot, he picked it up and closed his eyes. For a couple of seconds he concentrated on his breathing. The girl was going to be the death of him.

"Coke? You're doing cocaine now?" he roared out, clearly those breathers hadn't calmed him down, at all.

"It's nothing dad."

"Nothing? Seriously? You have got to be kidding me here, Katherine" he was riled up now. He wished Johanna was here, she would have known how to handle this. He could already feel himself losing his cool. "Who? Who gave this to you?" he screamed as he shook the drugs in her face. "Samuel? Brandon? Harrison? Or one of the other 20 low-life guys that've passed through here this month?"

"You're making me out as a slut, dad!"

"Taking drugs, random guys. This isn't you, Kate."

"Maybe this is me, the new me."

"Katie, this is it. You either get your life under control or you're out. There will be no drugs in my house, do you understand?"

"Fine!" she bawls out as she grabbed her purse and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door on her way out.

To this day, Jim wished this conversation would have ended differently.

PRESENT DAY

Heading to the common room area, he decided to take a slight detour to walk past Kate's room. He needed to make sure she was okay. He had told the nurses to take the constraints off after she had fallen asleep again and he hoped it had been a good call. As, he peaked through the glass, he was surprised to find her sitting on the bed, cross-legged.

As he opened the door and peaked his head in, she looked at him, faked a smile and said, "Hey, Doc. I think I'm ready to talk."

Any thoughts? Complaints? Ideas?