The bullpen was quieter than it should’ve been, the kind of quiet that came after a case closed too fast and left too many shadows behind. Morgan leaned back in his chair, knuckles still nicked, tie loosened like the day had tried to choke him. You sat across from him, shoulders squared, but your eyes gave away the part of you that was tired of pretending it didn’t get under your skin.

Morgan watched you for a second. “You’re thinking about it again.”

You didn’t flinch. “I’m thinking about what comes after it. After the next call. After the next family that doesn’t get answers.”

He nodded, slower this time. “That’s the trap. You start believing the job gets to decide what your future is.”

You let out a breath, the kind that carried a whole week inside it. “And you think it doesn’t?”

“I think it tries,” he said. “But it’s not the boss of you. Not if you don’t let it be.”

You looked down at the case file on the desk, fingertips resting on the edge like you could keep the nightmares pinned there. “Sometimes it feels like the future is just… more of this. More pain. More evil. More late nights.”

Morgan leaned forward, voice gentler without losing its steel. “Then we build something else on purpose. Not because it’s easy. Because it’s ours.”

Your gaze lifted. “And what does yours look like?”

He hesitated, honest enough to let the silence speak first. “A day where I’m not listening for my phone. A place that’s quiet for the right reasons. People I trust. A life that isn’t only survival.”

Your mouth twitched, almost a smile. “You’re describing peace like it’s a suspect profile.”

Morgan huffed a soft laugh. “Maybe it is. Maybe peace is the thing we keep chasing, and it keeps slipping, and we’ve still gotta believe it’s real.”

You straightened, steadier. “I want that. I want a future where I’m not defined by what I’ve seen.”

Morgan’s eyes held yours, unwavering. “Then you’re already doing it. You’re here. You care. You keep going. And when you’re ready, you’ll choose the rest.”

You nodded once, like a decision clicking into place. Outside, the city kept moving, unaware. Inside, the future finally felt like something you could name.