Noah hadn't sat down in six hours.
Not properly.
He moved between crime scene photos, witness statements, traffic logs, and phone records like a man trying to outrun his own thoughts.
Coffee went cold on his desk.
Then stale.
Then forgotten.
Every lead bent into another dead end.
Every map folded into confusion.
South side. East side. Industrial roads. Bridges. Alleys.
Nothing lined up cleanly.
His phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
He ignored it.
It buzzed again.
Then again.
He finally answered.
"If this is about parking violations—"
"Kai stole my lunch."
Noah closed his eyes.
"Put him on."
"No."
"Rhea—"
"He ate the part with my name on it."
"I didn't see a name!" Kai shouted in the background.
"You saw the heart sticker."
"That could mean anything!"
Noah sighed.
"You're both alive. That's good. I'm busy."
"Just checking," Rhea said more softly. "You haven't replied since yesterday."
"I'm working."
Kai leaned into the call. "He means he's emotionally constipated."
"Hang up," Noah said.
Rhea laughed.
It surprised her.
"We're coming by later," she said.
"Don't."
"We already decided."
The call ended.
Noah stared at the phone for a second.
Then went back to work.
At the hospital cafeteria, Kai slid a tray across the table like he was offering peace.
Two juices.
One pastry.
And, suspiciously, a chocolate bar.
"For the trauma of having your lunch eaten," he said.
"You didn't eat it," Rhea said flatly.
"You labeled it emotionally."
She narrowed her eyes.
"I hate that I like you."
"Character flaw," he agreed.
They sat.
Sunlight filtered in through tall windows, dust floating like tiny, harmless galaxies.
Rhea stirred her drink.
"Do you ever feel like everyone around us is breaking quietly?" she asked.
Kai tilted his head.
"You mean the detective with chronic exhaustion or the man who collapses like a haunted Victorian child?"
"That."
Kai sighed. "Yeah."
She looked down.
"I don't know how to help."
Kai poked at his pastry.
"I tell jokes until the room breathes again."
"Is that what you're doing with me?"
"Partially."
She smiled despite herself.
"And the rest?"
He shrugged.
"I just… don't want you to feel alone in a building full of people."
Her hand paused mid-stir.
She didn't look at him.
But her voice softened.
"You're strange."
"Consistently."
"You make it easier to come to work."
Kai blinked.
Then tried to recover his tone.
"Well, yes. That's my official job description."
Rhea finally met his eyes.
"Thank you."
It was simple.
It was real.
Kai forgot how to joke for half a second.
"Anytime," he said quietly.
They finished eating slowly.
Unrushed.
Two people pretending the world wasn't sharp for a moment.
Noah returned to the station after dark.
The lights buzzed overhead.
Paper waited for him.
The city waited too.
In the infirmary wing, Evan slept under a thin blanket, face pale, chest rising carefully like breathing itself had become a negotiation.
Noah paused outside the door.
Just for a second.
Then turned away again.
Work first.
Always work.
Down the hall, laughter echoed faintly—Kai and Rhea, arguing about vending machine ethics.
The sound felt illegal in a building like this, and made Noah smile.