The city is quiet from up here.

You and your captain stand on the rooftop of the precinct’s parking structure, taking a rare break after a long, exhausting shift. The air is cool, carrying the distant sounds of traffic and the faint glow of streetlights stretching out into the horizon.

She leans against the railing, her shoulders finally relaxed for the first time all night. She closes her eyes briefly, taking in a slow breath before glancing at you.

“You did good today,” she says. Her voice is soft, not the usual clipped authority she uses inside the building. “Most people don’t handle their first chaotic shift like that.”

She nudges your arm gently with her elbow.

“You kept calm. You listened. You adapted. That’s more than I can say for some seasoned officers.”

You laugh, and she gives a small smile, rare, but genuine.

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, watching the skyline.

She breaks the silence, her tone warm:

“Sometimes I forget how… big this place feels until I’m up here.” Then she gestures to the city below. “But you? You fit into it pretty naturally.”

She looks at you, not intense, not possessive, just steady and sincere.

“You’re going to be good out there. And if you ever feel like you’re not? You come to me. Understood?”

There’s no pressure in her voice, just reassurance. Confidence. Trust.

She turns toward the door, giving you one last look.