Lassiter sat at his new desk, drumming his fingers against the wood and staring blankly into the bullpen. There was something off. It was just far too quiet. Sure the bullpen contained its usual hum of sounds but to Lassiter, it was as if the entire precinct had taken on a mournful silence. There was no familiar clicking of heels, no cheerful ringing of laughter, no sharp voice rehashing the facts from their latest case, or offering a calming word. Not even the distant sound of quiet typing or hundreds of colored pencils against graph paper provided comfort to his ears.
Casting a long look over at her old desk, he swallowed heavily. His chest hurt as if his heart was physically aching. He would never admit it out loud in a million years but he really missed her. He missed his partner. He shook his head. No, that wasn't right. She wasn't just his partner anymore, she was his family and he missed his family like hell.