In that moment, John realizes he doesn't know how to fall apart.

There had never been cause with Jessica, not when he had been so happy. When she had died, he'd hardened a part of himself and he'd taken to drinking, hoping to end his life without having to work too hard at it. There had been no chance to break down, no reason, not when there wouldn't be anyone to help him back up. When Carter had died, he'd done everything to block off the pain and had instead thrown himself headlong into ending the life of the man who'd taken her from the world. That had seemed so much smarter than losing himself to the sadness, knowing he would never allow anyone to be there with him through it, knowing the one person who could have helped him was the one lying dead.

This is different. Finch isn't dead, but he's gone and for the first time in his life, John has someone who'll support him if he lets her, but he stands there for a moment and realizes he has no idea how.

"Harold," he says finally. It's a start. Even if he doesn't know where to go from here, he can start and see where it takes him. "He's gone."