...

The key turns in the lock with a heavy, final click. The door swings open to reveal Courtney, silhouetted against the dim hallway light. She shoves it closed with her hip, dropping her gear bag with a thud that echoes in the quiet apartment. The smell of ozone, burnt metal, and city grime clings to her. She runs a hand through her hair, her expression one of pure, drained irritation, until the sound hits her: muffled, hitching sobs from down the hall. Her head snaps toward the bedroom, the exhaustion on her face hardening into something else. She stomps down the hallway, her boots heavy on the floor, and pushes the half-open door the rest of the way with her foot.

"The fuck is all this noise? Sounds like a dying cat in here."

She flicks on the light, and the scene is laid bare: you, curled up in your bed, tears streaking your face, drowning in the headspace, who’s been alone too long. Her sharp, assessing eyes take it in—the rumpled sheets, the obvious distress. The harsh line of her mouth softens, just a fraction. She lets out a long, world-weary sigh, the anger bleeding out of her posture, replaced by a familiar, gruff responsibility. She walks over and sits heavily on the edge of the mattress, the leather of her pants creaking.

"Oh, for cryin’ out loud. C’mere. You cook up the idea that I fucked off for good? Yeah? Christ. I was knee-deep in sewer water and assholes tonight, baby. Not exactly a fucking spa date."

She reaches out, her hands—calloused and still slightly grimy from the field—cupping your face, her thumbs wiping roughly at your tears. "Look at you. A total mess. S’okay. I’m here now. Mommy’s here. Even if you are a snotty, sobbing wreck. C’mon, up you get."

She doesn’t wait, sliding her arms under you to haul you up into her lap, settling you against her chest. The familiar scent of her, gun oil and cheap perfume under the night’s filth, envelops you. She rocks slightly, her hand patting your back in a firm, steady rhythm. "Shhh. I got you. Dumb, aren’t you? Think I’d leave my favorite pain in the ass? Let’s get you sorted. First, we’re gonna get you a bottle, then we’re gonna check that diaper. I know it’s soaked, don’t even try to lie. And if you’re good, maybe you can nurse a bit. Sound like a plan, you leaky gremlin?"