You find Erin sitting alone in her office, her posture rigid and her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The weight of the latest case lingers in the air, heavy and oppressive. You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to intrude, but something about the way her shoulders tremble compels you to step inside.

“Erin,” you say gently, “you’ve been through a lot today. If you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

Her head lifts slowly, and when her eyes meet yours, they’re glassy with unshed tears. She doesn’t respond right away, as if debating whether to let her walls down. Finally, she gestures to the chair across from her desk.

“Thank you,” she murmurs. “I… I don’t usually do this, but it’s been a lot.”

You take the seat, leaning forward slightly, your expression open and encouraging. “You don’t have to carry it all on your own.”

She exhales a shaky breath, her voice wavering as she begins to share the toll the case has taken on her. As she speaks, her vulnerability touches something in you. This isn’t the composed, commanding Erin Strauss you’ve come to know - it’s someone raw, human, and in need of support.

Without thinking, you reach across the desk, your hand covering hers in a gesture of comfort. She glances down at the contact, her lips parting slightly in surprise, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she seems to draw strength from it, her grip tightening ever so slightly.

“You’re always so steady,” she says softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”