A/N: I began this idea prior to the airing of 3x08 & the 3x09 promo, just FYI. But, either way, hope ya'll enjoy this. It's my first multi-chapter Chenford/The Rookie fic. It was inspired by 3x06 when Tim said he'd just "work on his tan" (or something to that effect) when Lucy asked what he did at UC conventions while Isabel attended the sessions, LOL.

"Karma's a bitch," Nyla Harper joked to newly minted P2 Lucy Chen.

Lucy rolled her eyes, ready to make a witty comeback when Nyla gave her that look. "Don't," she warned, eyes narrowing.

Lucy did not, biting her tongue and turning back to her locker. "I just thought you'd be the one going with me is all." She knew she probably sounded whiny, but she didn't care. It's not that she didn't want to work with Tim, it's that she really did. She didn't think that she'd miss him that much, but, here she was, weeks later, reminiscing about his stupid tests or how she'd manage to one-up him at times. Don't get her wrong, she loved being paired with Jackson West for the time being, but, they're already such good friends and roommates. There's no...challenge. There's no lively banter or crackling energy. It's simply not how it used to be, and she missed how things were.

Nyla's voice drew her out of her thoughts. "I'm not your type, not Nolan," she winked. Lucy watched as her eyes darted over her shoulder.

"I'd have to agree," new mom Angela Lopez concurred. "Besides, that cartel's notorious for liking...and unfortunately killing, wealthy couples. Two party girls might be fun, but they don't have the cash flow to be secured as buyers."

Lucy pouted. "See, this is why you should go." She nodded at Angela, who held up her hands.

Lopez smirked. "What part of modified desk duty in the detective bureau don't you get, Chen?"

Lucy fought off another eye roll, scoffing instead. "Yeah, yeah," she grumbled, slamming her locker door.

She didn't miss the look Angela and Nyla shared though. Always cop eyes, Tim had taught her. Damn him.

Jackson hadn't finished laughing. And Tim couldn't give him the whole "tough training officer" routine because a) he was now a P2 and b) he was Lucy's roommate.

West finally calmed down, catching his breath. "Sorry, sir. It's just almost too easy. Course, I'm also trying to picture you and Lucy as a moneybags type of couple. I'm seeing gold chains, Rolexes, and suits in your future."

Tim huffed. "Uh huh."

"You guys will be fine."

"I know that; I'm the one that trained her." Apparently, Tim still had a little bit of that routine hardwired in him.

Jackson simply nodded before dismissing himself. What Tim didn't know was, he passed Angela, Nyla, and her former rookie John Nolan in the hall. Bets were made, and looks were exchanged. It seemed everyone but Tim and Lucy knew something would happen.

"I don't even know what a rich woman wears to a resort in Malibu," Lucy talked herself through things as she was packing up a bag. "Probably something worth more than my entire apartment." She groaned, regretting her decision to do this assignment. Logically, she knew she was more than capable. She'd proven that to Harper, Bradford, and most importantly, herself. Logic wasn't the issue; her feelings were. And she was so good at compartmentalizing them when there was a clear, hard, and fast boundary. Rookie and training officer. That's what it was; that's what they were.

Now? Now, they lived in different worlds, even though they were still in the same building. She was on the streets with West; Tim was behind a desk for the time Sergeant Grey was on leave. She knew he was probably going crazy, just dying to do something else besides sitting around. She welcomed the change in scenery and pace too. She just wasn't expecting the company to bring up all these weird feelings again. Because now, there were no rules. Well, none that could get them in major trouble. Now, she wasn't under him - work wise, that is - and yet she still couldn't kick the nerves out of her system.

Pull it together. This is just business. It's work. It's just Tim, for crying out loud, she tried to reason with herself. Yeah no, that wasn't working. Because he was "just Tim" to her anymore. Maybe he was for a time, way back when, but they'd been through so much since then. She couldn't imagine thinking of him as "only her training officer."

Sure, he annoyed her. And frustrated her. And was sometimes harsh. But, he also had moments of softness, or levity. He had times where she could see through the cracks in the figurative armor he wore to protect himself. She could see who he was underneath all the bravado. For whatever reason, she didn't think a lot of people had the opportunity to see that. Or, maybe they didn't think to look.

Speaking of looking, if she didn't start looking through the depths of her closet for more appropriate attire, she wasn't going to do well on this op. She smirked when she thought of Tim's advice. Think like a crook. Yeah, well now, she had to think like a rich snob. She wasn't rich. Or snobby, for that matter.

"Okayyyy," she began talking herself through it. "I need...flashy." She rifled through her closet, bypassing hangers of neutrals or florals. She was thinking either vibrant color, metallics, or black. Black was a fail safe. She pulled out a little black dress, and her black boots. Next to come was a strappy silver sequined top and jeans. She was not, under any circumstances, wearing a miniskirt. She grabbed her favorite sweats and academy tee to sleep in, and added a red tank top, along with another pair of jeans, and put them all in the suitcase. Of course, because it wouldn't be California without a beach or the ocean, she decided to throw in a swimsuit, in case there was a second of downtime to spare.

She was zipping up her bag when her phone buzzed. She answered it without thinking; she assumed it was Jackson, since she had texted him a "911, fashion emergency" text earlier.

"'Bout time you called me," she started in on him.

"Already playing the demanding wife, boot?"

She knew that voice. And that voice did not belong to Jackson. Besides, there was only one person who would still call her boot, just because he could.

"Tim?" She asked into the phone. "Gosh, I thought you were Jackson."

"Hi to you too, Lucy. Sorry to disappoint you, but Grey wanted me to call and tell you how we'll communicate back with the rest of the division. We've got burners, and they'll be able to track us in our car. If we go mobile or we get separated, we've got ears we'll wear, and obviously a safe word we'll use if it comes to that. But, under no circumstances should we break cover until we have them in custody. Is that understood?" The last part came out with his TO voice.

"You know you can't boss me around anymore, Bradford," she quipped, and she could just picture his grouchy expression on the other end of the phone. Ha ha, got ya.

"Chen," he warned, his tone clipped. "This is serious."

"I know that," she reassured him. "Lighten up, sheesh. Y'know what? I've decided I'm gonna make it my personal mission that you have some fun on this trip."

"Oh, hell," he griped.

"Mhmm," she reiterated, not caring if he didn't like it. "You just wait and see, Tim."

"How is it that I already want a divorce?" He taunted, and she feigned hurt on the other line.

"Rude."

"Uh huh. Bye, boot."

She shook her head as she dropped her phone into her purse. Maybe this would be harder than she thought. Only one way to find out.