"That's not it," he says, very softly. He gives Malcolm's shoulder a little tug, turning him away from the stove and hugging him close. He's not sure how to even start deconstructing what he wants to say.

He's good with words, with emotions, he always has been and part of that is being a cop used to dealing with victims and part of that is being what he's been to Malcolm. This is somehow harder than telling someone a loved one is dead. It reminds him of sitting on the steps with Malcolm after the revelation that the Girl in the Box was real, watching his kid's face cycle through wonder and relief and heartbreak.

"Your..." He gives Malcolm a small, tighter squeeze. "When you're having trouble. When you're seeing things. I've..."

A pause as he tries to pull the words together again. "I haven't been kind or patient. That's what I'm sorry for."