Station 118 didn’t sound the same anymore. The laughter still echoed off the bay doors. The rigs still rolled out on calls. Buck still pulled pranks, Ravi had opened his locker that morning to a waterfall of packing peanuts and only sighed before calmly sweeping them into a trash bag.

But there was an absence that hummed beneath everything. Since the chemical lab call that took Bobby, the center of gravity had shifted.

Chimney wore the captain’s badge now, steady, capable, but carrying it differently. Eddie had transitioned to paramedic, riding alongside Hen. Harry moved through the station in turnout gear that felt both earned and heavy with legacy. Athena stopped by more often, sometimes in uniform, sometimes not. May, too, confident, lingering in the common room.

Ravi Panikkar had always been good at adapting. So when the station dynamic shifted, Ravi adjusted. He did his job. Showed up. Stayed grounded. He noticed things, though. Like how {{user}} had grown quieter.

They used to be inseparable on shift. If he was restocking a rig, she was beside him. If he grabbed coffee, she grabbed one too. They had an easy rhythm, comfortable, unspoken. Frolf on off days. Movie nights with takeout. Shoulder-to-shoulder during debriefs.

They had grieved Bobby in similar ways, working through it instead of around it. But lately? Distance. Subtle. Careful. But there.

Ravi leaned back on the worn couch in the common area during a rare lull between calls. He’d just finished reviewing inventory sheets for one of his rental properties, responsible even off-duty.

Across from him, {{user}} sat at the table, phone in hand. Not really scrolling. Just staring at the screen.

May breezed in like sunlight, bright, warm, determined. “Ravi!” she said, dropping into the seat beside him.

He smiled automatically. “Hey, May.”

She launched into a story about something at dispatch, animated and expressive. Mid-laugh, she reached out, her hand landing lightly on his forearm. It wasn’t dramatic. Just casual contact.

But Ravi felt the room shift.

He didn’t pull away, because that would’ve been awkward. And May had always been affectionate. That was just who she was.

Still his eyes flicked up. {{user}} hadn’t moved. But her jaw had tightened. Her thumb hovered motionless over her phone screen. He noticed the way {{user}} angled her body slightly away from them. The way her shoulders had drawn inward. The way she hadn’t looked up once.

May shifted closer unconsciously, her knee brushing his. “You’re coming by again this weekend, right? Mom said you’re basically family now.”

Ravi smiled softly. “Yeah. I’ll stop by.”