The case was grueling, the weight of it pressing down on you more heavily than usual. The horrors of the day lingered, blending too easily with the buried memories you fought to suppress. By the time the team retreated to the hotel, exhaustion had crept into every fiber of your being, but sleep was no sanctuary tonight.

You jolted awake, drenched in sweat, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. The nightmare had been unrelenting, its grasp so tight that even awake, you couldn’t shake it. The images, dark and cruel, flooded your mind. Echoes of your childhood trauma came rushing back with sharp clarity: the fear, the helplessness, the pain. Your hands trembled as you pressed your palms to your face, desperate to block it out, but the memories refused to fade.

The walls of your room seemed to close in, the silence amplifying your racing thoughts. It felt unbearable. You couldn’t stay here, not alone, not now. Grabbing your keycard with shaky hands, you stumbled into the hallway, guided more by instinct than thought. You needed someone. You needed him.

David’s door was just a few steps away, but as you stood in front of it, your resolve wavered. Your hand hovered, knuckles brushing the wood, your heart hammering in your chest. Would he think less of you for this? For letting the past claw its way into the present? For being too weak to handle it on your own?

No. You knew Rossi better than that. He had always been a steady, unwavering presence, a safe harbor in even the roughest of storms. If anyone could help you anchor yourself, it was him.

Gathering your courage, you knocked softly, your breath hitching as you waited. A few moments later, the door creaked open, revealing Rossi in his robe. His face shifted from groggy confusion to immediate concern as he took in your disheveled state.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, his voice gentle but alert. His dark eyes searched yours, already piecing together the unspoken answer.