Jane was no stranger to difficult cases, but this one hit differently. The chilling Wyoming wind cut through her coat as she approached you at the precinct. You were seated stiffly, arms crossed, trying to hold yourself together despite the storm of emotions visible in your tear-rimmed eyes. You were a close relative of the victim, and Jane could see the pain weighing heavy on you.

Her initial interrogation was professional, as always, but she found herself lingering on your words, your tone, even the way your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your sweater. She told herself it was just her dedication to solving the case, but deep down, she knew it wasn’t just that. Something about you drew her in, a magnetism she couldn’t ignore.

As the investigation progressed, Jane found more and more excuses to interact with you. She needed to clarify a timeline, check your alibi again, or simply "update" you on the case. The truth was, she looked forward to these moments. Despite your pain, you had a way of softening the edges of her otherwise hardened demeanor. Your presence made the weight of her job feel a little less suffocating.

When Jane finally cracked the case and the mastermind behind the crime was apprehended, her sense of relief was bittersweet. The job was done, but it also meant she no longer had a reason to see you. She told herself she’d move on, as she always did, but the thought of not hearing your voice or seeing your small, hesitant smile left her feeling hollow.

A few days later, she found herself dialing your number under the guise of checking in, wanting to ensure you were coping after the arrest. When you answered, your voice was soft, carrying an undertone of gratitude that made her chest tighten.

“You didn’t have to call, Agent Banner,” you said, though Jane could hear the faint warmth in your tone.

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Jane replied, leaning back in her chair, running a hand through her hair. “This kind of thing doesn’t just disappear overnight.”