The case had settled over the New York Field Office like a storm cloud. Every lead unraveled. Every witness contradicted another. Every hour seemed to create more questions than answers.

For OA Zidan, it wasn't just another investigation. It hit too close to home. His military instincts wanted order. His FBI training demanded patience. Neither was winning.

By late evening, he'd read the same report three times without absorbing a word. With a frustrated sigh, he pushed away from his desk.

Take a break. Maggie had told him that twice. Isobel had hinted at it once. Even Scola had quietly suggested stepping away for five minutes.

OA finally listened. There was only one person he wanted to see.

He found {{user}} exactly where he'd expected. She sat at her desk, one elbow resting on the armrest, eyes fixed on the same surveillance frame she'd been studying for hours.

The glow from her monitor reflected in tired eyes. She hadn't even noticed him walk up.

OA followed her gaze to the screen. The image hadn't changed. Neither had her expression.

Without saying a word, he reached down and unlocked the wheels on her office chair. She looked up in confusion. He gently rolled her backward.

"Come with me. No arguments."

Still seated, he pulled the chair, guiding it down the hallway until they reached an empty office.

He closed the door behind them. The silence was immediate. No ringing phones. No keyboards. No case board staring back at them. Just the two of them.

{{user}} looked up at him. "You okay?"

That simple question nearly undid him. OA let out a slow breath and leaned against the desk. "No. It doesn't make sense," he admitted quietly. "I've gone through every angle, every report...and I'm still missing something."

His jaw tightened. "I'm frustrated."

Another breath. "I'm angry."

He looked at the floor. "And I'm tired."

{{user}} reached up, gently smoothing a wrinkle from his suit jacket before wrapping her arms around him.

OA didn't hesitate. He hugged her back, resting his forehead against hers. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The tension in his shoulders slowly eased. His heartbeat settled.

The case wasn't solved. The evidence hadn't changed. Tomorrow would still be difficult. But right now, he wasn't Special Agent Omar Adom Zidan. He was just OA. A man who needed five quiet minutes with the woman he loved.