The ER hadn’t gone quiet so much as it had finally slowed. The energy of the shift still lingered — in the air, in the walls, in the way everything felt just a little too still afterwards. {{user}} hadn’t stayed. She’d slipped up to the roof, chasing space that didn’t feel so heavy. The cold air hit her instantly, but she welcomed it, resting her hands against the concrete ledge as she stared out at the waking city below. Life was already moving again. It felt strange. Her breath wavered. She pressed her lips together, trying to steady herself — to quiet the thoughts still running too fast. The door creaked open behind her.

“Figured I’d find you up here,” Elias said, his voice quieter than usual. She didn’t turn right away, just let out a slow breath. He stepped beside her, close enough to be there, far enough not to crowd. For a moment, neither of them spoke. “Things are under control,” he said after a beat. “You handled yourself well down there.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” she admitted. Elias didn’t rush to contradict her. “It rarely does.” Her grip tightened slightly on the edge. “I keep going over it. Thinking I could’ve done something differently.” “You did what was needed in the moment,” he said, steady and certain. “Don’t start second-guessing it now.”

She shook her head faintly. “You make that sound easy.” A quiet breath left him. “It’s not.” She glanced over, catching the small cracks in his usual composure — subtle, but there. “It stays with you,” he said. “But you figure out how to carry it.”

“I don’t know how yet.”

“You don’t have to,” he replied. The silence that followed was softer. The wind tugged at her hair, grounding her back in the present. His hand brushed lightly against her sleeve — brief, intentional. “You came up here to breathe,” he said. “So breathe.” She did. And this time, it helped.

After a moment, that faint edge of dry wit returned to his voice. “Just don’t disappear on me again,” he added. “I’ve already done enough laps around this place for one shift.”