The fallout from Detective Jenkins being placed on the Brady list was not isolated to a single day. It wasn't isolated to a single week. The effects rippled through the department in consequences that were intense and far-reaching. It affected every officer to some extent, but the impact it had on the TO units was both surprising and heartbreaking. Learning Talia was facing disciplinary action for leaving her foster brother (who had a criminal record) off of her personal history questionnaire came as a shock to everyone, but especially to Tim and Angela. They had never known her to step a single toe out of line. While he couldn't say the scrutiny she was facing was totally unjustified given the circumstances, it did strike Tim as a bit unnecessary, and he went so far as to agree when Lucy said something to that end. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done about it. He and Angela supported Talia how they could (mostly just offering a listening ear if she should need it), but Tim knew what this probably meant for her career. Talia's hopes to make chief by forty were all but dashed, and that was a tough pill to swallow.
On top of that, the brass turned their focus to patrol, taking a closer look at the probationary officer process in particular. Despite previously allowing rookies to take the six-month exam regardless of the status of their training and experience checklist, the higher-ups made the choice to require a completed checklist before a probationary officer could even sign up to take the test. The news caused internal panic to flare inside Tim, and that feeling grew as Grey relayed in the roll call which items were still missing from all of the rookies' lists. Nolan got lucky and had no items missing; West had three. Lucy, with seven to go, had the longest list. They had two days to complete her checklist. Without it, she would be held back, and at least another month would be added to her probationary period.
Over the next two days, they did their best to complete the checklist. On the first shift, they only managed to check one off of the list (ethical dilemma). Tim sensed how downtrodden she felt and tried to stay positive for her sake, but he was worried too, even if he did not say so aloud. They had a stroke of luck midday during their next shift, and he had the bruise on his shin to prove it. She crossed off five more items in a single arrest. Their luck ended there, though, and the workday closed with her only one item short. Lucy trudged off with their gear as they returned to the station, her head lowered. Tim almost followed, ready to comfort her, but changed his mind, pivoting towards the sergeant's office instead. Sergeant Grey didn't take much convincing as Tim pleaded with him to allow them over time. Once he secured the senior officer's approval, he hurried to the kit counter, intercepting Lucy just as she handed over the equipment.
"We fight until the bell rings, Chen," he declared. "Come on. Grey approved the OT. We're getting you that meth possession. Get our shop loaded up. Roll out in five." After that, he headed down the hall at a purposeful jog. He burst into the dispatch office without knocking, his moves so sudden, everyone jumped.
"Bradford?" Nell said, turning in her chair to face the door. "What's wrong?"
"I need your help," he replied, walking closer to her desk. He noticed her computer was shutting down, and she'd placed her purse on the desk. She'd reached the end of her shift, then, and now he was going to have to plead with her to stay late. "It's for Lucy."
"I see." She turned away, drumming her fingers against her desk for a second before asking, "What kind of favor?"
"She's one item away from completing her training checklist. She can't take the six-month exam without it. We just need meth possession or anything you suspect might turn one up."
"Tim, I'm already clocked out."
"Please, Nell?" He shifted uneasily from one foot to the other before lowering his voice. "Look, I know I have no right to ask for favors from you, but she's a good officer and they fucking changed the rules on us mid-game. She deserves better than getting held back on a technicality." When she remained uncertain, he begged, "She's so close to finishing. Come on, Nell. Please. Lucy needs this."
Nell sighed. For a second, she gazed past Tim towards the open door. A smile slowly spread over her face before she finally agreed. "I'll do what I can for her. Okay, Bradford?"
He clapped his hands together once. "Yes! Thank you. You're the best." Turning to go, he spotted Lucy in the corridor just outside the door. She must have come looking for him when he didn't return within the time frame he'd given. He wondered whether she'd have anything to say about him begging dispatch on her behalf (she'd had a lot to say the last time he'd asked dispatch for favors). This time, though, she didn't say a word, and he commanded, "Come on, Boot!" before they both returned to the shop with renewed vigor.
Tim was prepared to settle in for as long as it took to check off the final requirement. Fortunately, with Nell on their side, it didn't take as long as it could have. A DUI tip led them to an intoxicated woman shortly after midnight. When she refused a breathalyzer, it gave Lucy probable cause to search her. She located the small stash in the pocket of the woman's skirt and held up the baggie for Tim to see while grinning widely.
"Meth possession," she said.
He reached for his radio. "7-Adam-19 to dispatch. Go on home, Nell. She did it." His heart swelled with pride as he repeated, "She fucking did it."
"I feel like I owe you a drink for the late night," Lucy said as they headed towards the locker rooms after they finished processing their last arrest.
"Just a drink? I'd say you owe me dinner," he replied, adding, "How does tomorrow night sound? I'll cook?"
"You'll cook?" Lucy smirked. "How is that me owing you dinner?"
"Good point. I guess you'll get the next one." He said it quickly and easily, and it was only after the words left his mouth that he considered the implication. It wasn't that long ago that he had declined to see her after work, refusing her offer to return his money clip in exchange for one drink together. Now look at him; he had included her in his dinner plans (not for the first time, either) and knew with certainty that there would be many more evenings spent in one another's presence. Hell, if it all played out like he hoped it would, there would be a whole future filled with them.
Although Tim couldn't wait for that, for now, he tried to focus on tomorrow. The next day, he picked up steaks and fresh vegetables to cook outside on the patio. After work, he cleaned the grill, fired it up, then straightened up the backyard as the grill warmed up. He was a little nervous in the minutes leading up to Lucy's arrival, and when she knocked on the front door a few minutes after the agreed-upon meeting time, he stopped to check his reflection in the bathroom mirror before going to answer.
"Hi," she said when he opened the door.
"Hi," he replied and said no more, leading her to laugh.
"Aren't you going to let me in?"
"Oh, shit. I mean. Yes. I mean," he stammered, then held the door wider for her. "Come in." Lucy walked through, her skirt swirling around her legs with each step. She wore one of those long, flowing floral skirts that sat high on the cinch of her waist. A black t-shirt was tucked into the waistband, serving to amplify the gentle dip between her hips and breasts. Her hair was down and wavy, just how he liked it, and a smile was on her lips as she turned to present him with a six-pack of Landshark, the first drink they'd ever shared. He wondered if she'd done it on purpose, but didn't ask. Instead, he took the drinks as he welcomed her inside, stopping in the kitchen to place the beers on the counter. "I was thinking we'd eat outside," he said. "It's supposed to be a nice night."
"Okay." Lucy followed him out, gasping, "Oh, this is beautiful," as she looked over the backyard in one sweeping gaze. Gesturing to the Edison bulbs, she said, "I love those," and a moment later, her attention turned towards the hammock. She walked toward it, letting Tim follow a few steps behind as she sat and rocked forward and back twice. The hem of her skirt dragged on the ground as she grinned at him. "Come sit with me."
He wished he could, but declined. "I should get the steaks started. You relax though." You want one of those beers?"
"Sure."
Tim went inside and opened two beers, then grabbed the small Bluetooth speaker he kept in the kitchen drawer. He carried all three outside and deposited them on the patio table, then synced the speaker to his phone before selecting an Ella Fitzgerald playlist. Lucy grinned up at him as he walked towards her with her drink.
"Thank you. And Ella Fitzgerald?"
He nodded. "You approve?"
"I do. Nice choice, Bradford."
He excused himself a second time, grabbing the steaks and vegetables from the fridge. When he walked outside again, Lucy stood from the hammock. She made herself comfortable at the patio table, sitting just a few feet away from where Tim stood at the grill. She was close enough that he could hear her humming along to the music, harmonizing as Ella and Louis Armstrong duetted on "The Nearness of You".
Midway through the second verse, Tim commented awkwardly, "You sing a lot." He meant it to sound like praise, but it didn't quite land how he intended.
Fortunately, Lucy laughed and did not appear insulted. "I do?"
"You didn't know? You sing a lot in the shop."
"Sorry," she replied, and he glanced back to see her tuck a strand of hair behind her ear while looking a little sheepish. "Guess it's a habit. Why haven't you asked me to stop?"
He placed the first steak on the grate before responding. "I didn't say I didn't like it. You have a pretty voice. Was it something you ever thought of pursuing?" He looked over his shoulder again. Her smile had tightened at his question, now bordering on a wince.
"Yeah," she replied, a little haltingly. "… Once."
"What happened?"
"My parents." She shook her head with a sigh before drawing a deep drink from her beer. "Believe it or not, I wanted to go to school for musical theater. I even auditioned for a conservatory on the east coast, but mom and dad had other plans for me."
He turned his back to the grill, facing her fully. "You never told me that."
Lucy shrugged, and at last, her smile was real again. "It was a long time ago. And it was for the best, anyway." Again, she brought her beer to her lips, smiling against the rim before saying, "I ended up right where I'm supposed to be."
After that, the conversation pivoted elsewhere. Lucy talked about her apartment, discussing what she planned to do with the extra room and how she was thinking of painting. Tim found himself roped into that chore with very little pleading on her part. She mentioned her upcoming exam, informing him that she had one last study date planned with Nolan and Jackson the next night. Tim brought up their recent paintball game and how much fun it had been, then suggested they go again sometime soon.
"Meh," she teased, "I'll go again if you want me to."
"Not if you're going to hate it."
"I didn't hate the game. I hated the heatstroke. How about we wait until the fall to go again, okay?" To that, he agreed, and a moment later, Lucy chuckled. "You know, when you told me you'd cook, I imagined you slaving over a stovetop in a frilly apron. Not grilling."
"My frilly apron is at the cleaners, and grilling counts as cooking."
"Uh, grilling is grilling."
He turned to offer her the tongs. "Do you want to take over?"
"I'm just kidding, Tim. It looks good," she said, then leveled one last, harmless joke at his expense. "Whatever it is."
"I'll try not to be offended that you sound shocked."
She walked back toward the hammock as his attention returned to the steaks. They were seared on all sides, a nice crust forming on the meat; now, it was just a matter of waiting and keeping an eye on the zucchini while it roasted in an envelope of aluminum foil. When he had the chance, he glanced back to see Lucy had once more claimed the hammock as hers. This time, she stretched out across it. Now, she swayed side to side with her eyes closed. Her full lips were upturned into a slight smile, and she'd folded her arms above her head. Even clothed, the position in which she lay gave Tim a complete image of her figure; of the soft, rounded curves of her body beneath her plain t-shirt, the strong legs underneath the flowery fabric. The hem of her skirt fluttered over the ground as she rocked, so silent and still, he wondered if she'd fallen asleep. It was nice having her here, he thought. Nice, how after months of fighting it, she fit into his life with ease. In some ways, it felt like they'd finally stopped circling one another. There was so much more unity to their interactions, more consideration. There was more understanding, and at least on Tim's part, there was love. Every time he looked at her, there was love, and it flooded his senses to the point he almost blurted it out at that very moment.
He didn't, though, keeping a rein on his mouth if only barely. It was still not the right time for that kind of declaration, and he'd made up his mind to keep that particular confession back until he was able to put action behind it. Not now, when he still oversaw her education, and not here, when they'd gathered as friends (even if he knew it was sort of dumb to call her simply a "friend"; they were well beyond friendship at this point). For the moment, all he said to Lucy was, "Sleeping while I do all the work? Rude, Chen. Rude."
She looked at him, smirked, then rose from the hammock. "I'm gonna get another beer." She grabbed her empty bottle. "Do you want one?"
"Yes, please."
Lucy had been inside for less than a minute when she called to him through the kitchen window. "Someone's here."
"Can you answer it please?" Tim asked. "I can't walk away. The zucchini will burn." A few minutes later, the back door opened a second time. "Who was it?"
"Just me," a voice that was not Lucy's replied.
Tim whirled around quickly, his eyes landing on Isabel at once. She stood just a few feet away. Behind her was Lucy, and all the cheer in her demeanor had melted away. She didn't seem angry, per se, but there was a notable, almost practiced lack of emotion on her face, and that was not typical for her.
One thing at a time, though, he thought. "Isabel. I… I wasn't expecting you. Understatement of the whole fucking year.
"Just wanted to grab some of my things," Isabel replied, which made him instantly suspicious. She'd already taken everything she said she wanted, so there had to be another angle to her sudden appearance. She glanced at Lucy once before looking at Tim with a knowing expression, commenting through a smirk, "I didn't realize you had company."
Isabel leaned on the word with a great amount of pleasure, and Tim realized immediately just what it was that she was insinuating. It was the same assumption she'd made the last time she'd been over when she'd drawn the line connecting protecting my future to Lucy without hesitation or difficulty. Back then, she hadn't been incorrect in thinking so as much as she'd been premature. Her conclusion was right but had been made early. Referencing it now was her way of teasing him, of making him squirm for the hell of it. If they hadn't had an audience, he was half-convinced Isabel would have winked at him for no reason other than the amusement she derived from ribbing him.
"Just a little get-together between a TO and his Boot," he fibbed, contradicting her flatly just before handing the tongs to Lucy. "Watch the steaks, please?" Then, he led the way inside with Isabel not far behind. The moment the door closed after her, he asked in a whisper, "Why are you really here? You didn't leave anything behind."
"That's what you think." She led the way down the hall to the room where he'd last stored her belongings, sighing in relief when she saw it was all how she'd left it. "Thank goodness you still procrastinate."
Tim leaned against the door jamb and crossed his arms before muttering, "I do not procrastinate."
She snickered at that before kneeling and picking up the vase containing the rose petals from her wedding bouquet. "There was something…" she mumbled as she stirred a hand through the petals, "I hid in here… ah! There we go!" A moment later, she withdrew a necklace; a gold oval locket on a chain. "It was my mom's. I wanted to hide it from myself so I wouldn't sell it."
"Guess it worked."
"I'll say," Isabel laughed again as she stood. "I forgot where I put it until yesterday."
"Well, is that all you were looking for? I should get back to the grill if you're finished. Want me to walk you out?"
She briefly appeared hesitant. "That's not all."
"What else are you missing?"
Her gaze lowered, fixating on the necklace as she wound and unwound it around her fingertips. "I didn't know Lucy would be here."
Tim felt his brow crease with concern. "I didn't think it would be a problem."
"It isn't," she said quickly. "It really isn't. I don't mind at all. I just… I wouldn't have done this tonight if I'd known she was here."
"Done what?"
She looked up. "My sober sponsor is in the car. She has something for you."
"Oh?" At first, he didn't understand. After a moment, it dawned on him. "Oh."
Once more apologetic, Isabel tugged gently on his hand. "Come on, Tim."
He followed her down the hall and out the front door. A car had been parked at the end of the driveway, and in the driver's seat sat a woman he did not know. When she spotted Tim and Isabel leaving the house, she stepped out. In her hands, she held a large manila envelope, and her lips tried to smile as he approached.
"We don't have to do this now," Isabel whispered at his side, and while he appreciated her offer, he declined.
"Isabel. It's okay," he said, and the woman with her took it as her cue.
"Hey, I'm Chloe. Isabel's sponsor." She walked toward Tim with her hand held out. He reached for it, shaking it once.
"Tim."
"Tim. Nice to meet you." He couldn't tell whether Chloe meant that, but whatever sincerity had been lacking in their introduction came through in the apology that followed it. "Sorry, man," she said, handing him the envelope. "You've been served."
It was over. It had been over for weeks (months? years?) now, but with the divorce papers in hand, the end of his marriage was official. After seeing Isabel and her sponsor off, Tim had taken the envelope inside, walking it back to his bedroom. He knew he should've waited until later to read through the contents, but curiosity got the better of him. They'd worked with a mediator only to hammer out the specific language, but the agreement appeared exactly as they'd discussed. Isabel was issuing him a no-fault divorce. She had waived all of her rights to the home they'd previously shared, to his VA benefits, and to his pension. Her name would be taken off of the deed, making the house his property alone. For his part, Tim agreed not to seek damages of any sort. Once he signed the papers, there was nothing more they owed each other.
It was almost impossible not to view the dissolution of his marriage as a path to freedom. A path to the future, in a way, and that struck him as especially true when his soulmate was literally just outside. Despite knowing this divorce was a good thing, Tim returned to Lucy pretty subdued. During his absence the steaks had burned, so they went to In-n-Out Burger for dinner instead. He intentionally did not make a single reference to the divorce papers throughout the remainder of the evening. She sensed that something was up but only commented on it once, asking, "Are you okay?" as she handed him his burger.
Tim had replied that yes, he was. That was the truth, for one thing, but even if he weren't all right, he probably wouldn't have brought up the existence of the papers to Lucy. She'd done enough for him and for Isabel; had been given no choice but to get involved when circumstances thrust her into the middle of their drama against her will. By comparison, the end had been easy; he didn't see the point in involving Lucy when he didn't need to. Even so, there was no denying a sort of tension hung about him for the rest of the night. He had expected to feel more bereft when his divorce became official. So far, that sensation eluded him. He could not pinpoint why the lack of grief made him uneasy. Did it mean the years with Isabel meant less if he could not be as sad about them as he expected to be? Did it make him callous or cruel to be so enamored with the idea of his future that he could not grieve for the past? Tim wasn't certain, but one thing he knew for sure as Lucy hugged him goodbye at the end of the night: it was hard to mourn when it felt like he'd gone from the valley to the mountaintop in no time at all.
"What are you doing tonight?" Tim asked the morning of Lucy's exam. "Thought we'd celebrate after you take the exam. Maybe get some pizza? You can make fun of my movie collection again."
Her answer was coolly distant and non-committal. "Yeah. I don't know. Maybe."
He took his eyes off of the road for a second, glancing her way just long enough to take note of her rigid posture, her lack of expression. "Something wrong, Boot?"
The smallest cringe bent her lips into a frown before Lucy replied, "We can talk about it later."
Well, that didn't reassure him in the slightest. Growing worried, he asked, "Chen. What's going on?"
She made a second, half-hearted attempt to avoid the question, but he got the truth out of her eventually. In a low voice, Lucy said, "Look, we've started spending more time together lately."
"And that's bad?"
"No, it's not bad… but your ex-wife comes over and you call me your Boot."
Had that bothered her? He hadn't meant it as an insult, had only picked that word to try to get that smug, satisfied look off of Isabel's face. "You are my Boot."
"And that's all?"
"What exactly are you asking me?"
"Just that," Lucy said. "Is that all? Is that all I am? Is that all I'll be?" When he didn't answer quickly enough for her liking, she added more questions. "I'm halfway through my probationary year, Tim. What's going to happen after? Is there, like… a future here?"
It was the final question that left him speechless. Speechless, because it never once occurred to Tim that despite assuming they were in lock-step with one another, Lucy was uncertain. It never once occurred to him that his feelings and intentions had come across as vague or unreadable. Even without giving them a voice, he'd (maybe stupidly) figured they were obvious. Did she really not see the effect she had on him? Did she really not know the sway she held over his life? It was a conversation he wanted to have; hell, it was a conversation long overdue at that point, but once again, the timing was all wrong. Off. Talking about it in the shop -and on the clock- was a mistake on multiple levels, and doing so would not afford him the time to plot out what he wanted to say. Tim had hoped for something else. Something… different. Something romantic, maybe, after dinner beneath the stars, with her hair down and her hand in his. Not like this, with the crackle of radio static to his right, the collar of his uniform feeling tighter every second as nerves and stress made it difficult to swallow.
"You're right," he said at last. "We shouldn't talk about this right now."
"Wow." His answer had frustrated her. Her retort -and the scoff that followed it- left no question.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Yeah, right. What?"
Beside him, Lucy tensed, inhaling deeply before she spoke again. "What is it you want from me, Tim?" she snapped. "I tell you I don't want to talk about it, and you press it. I start to open up, and then you say it's not the right time? Can you please not jerk me around like this today."
"'Jerk you around'?" he began to defend. "Since when do I-"
"-Only since the day I met you! 'I don't believe in soulmates'. 'I can always see you'. 'Let's talk about it'. 'Never mind, it's the wrong time'. I swear I need a neck brace from the whiplash I've gotten the past six months."
Her anger, unfiltered and ultimately justified, stung. "Fine. Guess I just won't say anything." It was not the most mature response he could've given, but Lucy didn't pay it any mind, turning away to look out the window as silence filled the car. They did not speak even as they were ordered back to the station. Their unit, among others, was being directed to a briefing led by Sergeant Grey and an agent with Homeland Security named Jessica Russo.
The situation was laid out quickly and somberly. The body of a man named Corey Valance had been discovered at a nearby bus station. According to intelligence, he belonged to a homegrown terrorist cell. Homeland Security believed that Valance and his co-conspirators were planning to attack Los Angeles with biological warfare. Valance, whose death had been a homicide, was killed shortly after arriving in the city. There was no indication that the group he worked with had postponed or canceled their plans to attack. At that point in the briefing, Agent Russo handed the platform to a doctor from the CDC. Doctor Morgan had more information concerning the method of attack, and although the situation was still very obviously dire, she offered the team a small relief by acknowledging that the weapon had so far not been utilized. That didn't mean they got to rest on their laurels, though, because she followed this fact with another.
"Our intelligence says they plan to strike within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours," she explained before describing the group's plan in greater detail. They were traveling with a weaponized strain of hemorrhagic fever, she said, and the primary symptom (uncontrollable bleeding) was also the virus' primary method of spreading. The time between exposure and infection was quick. Dr. Morgan finished soberly, "The pathology is gruesome, and if not treated quickly, it has a ninety-percent fatality rate."
It was an all-hands-on-deck moment, with as many units as could safely be spared excused from patrol. While the CDC and Homeland Security established a command center, Mid-Wilshire officers were assigned to be the eyes on the street; the rookies' six-month exams were postponed for now. Officers were permitted to warn immediate family only, and even then, they were limited in what information they could share. If anyone revealed too much, they risked creating panic in the city. The only person Tim could think to call was Isabel, and he left her a voice mail, his voice one of dozens in the anxious chatter that arose. He said no more than he was allowed, essentially telling her, "Stay put and be safe" before hanging up.
The bus charter company provided a passenger manifest and from it, Grey handed out new assignments. LAPD officers would make contact with the other passengers with the hope that field interviews would help them identify Corey Valance's partner. Tim was given the names and addresses of two people for their unit. The first was a man named Pete Langston.
"Did you call your parents?" Tim asked Lucy as they pulled away from the station.
"Just my mom. She didn't like that I couldn't tell her details, but I think she'll listen." After a pause, she wondered, "Who did you call?"
"Isabel." He glanced at her then. She'd grimaced at the name. "Don't be like that."
"I didn't say anything."
"You didn't have to."
"Okay, I'm not going to dignify that with a response," she bit back, "but maybe next time your wife can call you before she comes over while I'm there."
"Do you even know why she was there?"
"To pick up her things."
He almost groaned. "That's half of it," Tim replied, and after a breath, revealed, "She came to serve me divorce papers. Her sponsor was in the car."
Her pity, a turn on a dime from her anger of just seconds before, was the last thing he expected. He heard it in Lucy's voice as she asked, "Tim, why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"Seriously? I didn't want you involved."
"Because you don't trust me?"
How had she come to that conclusion? "Because you've done enough," Tim countered. "You've done enough for me. For Isabel. My divorce, it's…" he sighed, "it's just not something I wanted to drag you into. After everything that's happened…" Everything. There was so much contained inside that word because, from the moment they met, she'd been a catalyst for change. He had been aimless, almost rudderless when she came along, and only through time spent in her sphere had he discovered the strength and will to course-correct. He knew it was not right to need so much from her so soon. He knew it was not fair for things to be so unequal. A hidden fear gnawed at his insides, the worry that she would one day conclude he could not provide what she deserved. "I don't know. Sometimes it feels like I've been waiting for you to wise up and walk away."
"'Wise up and walk away?'" She repeated his words with disbelief.
"I wouldn't blame you. Can't say I wouldn't be tempted if it were me in your place."
"Well, we've already established that I'm a better person than you, Bradford," she joked, but beyond that, her teasing did not last. "Haven't you figured out by now that you're not going to scare me off?"
Tim would have loved the chance to answer that (even if the way she managed to touch on his fear directly did leave him a little speechless). He couldn't, though, because her reply came just as they arrived at the first address on their list. Pete Langston spotted their shop as they rolled to a stop in front of his house, and he approached before they had a chance to knock, already keyed up and anxious as he asked them to come inside. Tim shot a look towards Lucy; she, like Tim, was a bit surprised by Pete's greeting. Unless they'd been mistaken, Mr. Langston should not have been expecting a visit from the police.
Tim opened with a question after Pete led them into his living room. "Sir, we're here about the bus you took from Phoenix."
"No kidding," Pete snarked. "I called you about the bag like six hours ago."
"Bag?"
"The bag from the bus. Looked just like mine. So you don't have mine?" Both Tim and Lucy shook their heads. "Damn it," Pete groaned. "My computer is in there." He gestured then to an open door; it was a bedroom that branched off of the living room. On the bed sat an open backpack. Tim followed him into the room, listening to Pete's explanation as they walked. "I tried to find an address, but all I found was this weird science shit. I cut my finger on some sort of vial."
Tim froze. It felt like time did, too, as he glanced down at Pete's hand. The cut in question was leaking through a towel, staining the paper a bright, ruby red. He took a half-step back as Pete began to cough. Behind him, Lucy said his name.
"Tim."
He held his hand out, palm extended towards her. "Stay there," he ordered just as Pete's cough intensified. Tim took another step back, then another.
It was not enough space. Not enough distance. As Pete coughed again, a mist of blood splattered onto Tim's jacket. A few droplets landed on his neck. The memory of Dr. Morgan's warning about the virus floated through his mind, her speech about pathology and fatality coming to him in hazy pieces.
The pathology is gruesome…
If not treated quickly…
… Ninety-percent fatality rate.
Ninety-percent.
If Dr. Morgan was correct (and he had no reason to believe she wasn't), then statistically speaking he was already fucked. He was fucked, Tim thought as he looked out the door to where Lucy stood just a few feet away. Her face was covered with concern. She bit down nervously on her bottom lip as she gazed at him with worry. Beneath her stare, Tim softened. There was still a chance this wasn't the end, he knew. Yes, blood (and in all likeliness, the virus itself) was on his jacket, on his neck. Was that enough to make him sick? Probably. Maybe not. Even so, there was only one way he could be sure the fever stayed contained. There was only one way he could be sure the city -that Lucy- remained unharmed. When he framed it that way, the decision was easy. He would entertain no other choice.
He allowed himself to stare for a second or two longer. No more than that. Into those final moments, Tim imbued all the feelings he had not yet gotten the chance to voice while drinking in every last inch of her with his gaze. He lingered longest on her eyes; on the amber irises that had scored a mark into his soul the instant they first looked into his.
"Lucy." His mouth formed her name, so quiet it was barely above a whisper. He spoke it like a prayer.
Then, he shut the door.
He'd seen death before. It went with the job, unfortunately, and Tim had rolled up to accidents or crime scenes to find a body more times than he cared to count. He'd seen his fair share of deaths in the military, too, and those had been harder to cope with. The easiest (and saddest) death he'd ever witnessed had been his mother's. She had passed in the hospital, the cancer wasting her away by inches. In the end, they'd given her morphine, and the drug had eased her pain to nothing. As she took her final breaths, she had looked like she was sleeping. It was the most peaceful end a person could wish for.
Pete's was nothing like that.
The glass vial containing the virus had been broken in transport. Poor Pete Langston never stood a fucking chance. He was contaminated the second he blindly stuck his hand into a stranger's backpack, colliding clumsily with the shards. Now his breathing was labored. It gargled in his lungs, blood bubbling into his throat as he cried softly for help neither Tim nor the doctors outside were able to give. There was no aiding him, no saving him. Although he tried to look away, Tim couldn't, and after a while he figured the least he could do was witness the other man's passing without flinching, with eyes opened wide. When the last red breath left Pete's lungs, Tim whispered, "I'm sorry," and held a private moment of silence for the man. Then, he knocked softly on the door, trying to catch the attention of the doctors that had gathered outside.
"Can someone get Dr. Morgan, please" he requested. A moment later, she answered.
"Officer Bradford. I'm here."
"Mr. Langston is dead."
There was a pause before Dr. Morgan spoke again. "I see. And are you showing any symptoms?"
"No, ma'am," he replied, although he still feared that that was just a matter of time. The room they were quarantined in was small, and the CDC had sealed the vents to keep potentially contaminated air from circulating to the rest of the house. He'd been breathing the same stale oxygen as Pete for hours. Between that and the blood that had landed on his skin, Tim figured if he didn't get sick, it would be a miracle.
"The vaccine is still a few hours away," Dr. Morgan said. "Stay calm if you can and please, please keep your distance."
"Hard asks there, doc," Tim replied. Then, he wondered softly, "Where is Lucy?"
"Lucy?"
"Sorry. I mean Officer Chen. Has she gone?" If she had already left the house, then that was that. In all likeliness, she'd never see him again. If she stayed, well… he looked towards Pete's body, eyes fixed on the round scarlet bloodstain that had formed beneath him as the virus ravaged a ruthless path through his veins. Tim wouldn't go through that agony if he had a choice, and no sooner had the thought occurred to him than his mind went to the gun on his belt. It was gruesome to imagine, but he had an out if he needed it.
Less acceptable to him was the thought of Lucy being present, should he take it.
"She's here," the doctor replied.
"Is she okay?"
Again, Dr. Morgan paused before responding. "She isn't showing symptoms, if that's what you mean. You did the right thing by shutting the door. You probably saved her life."
A worthwhile sacrifice, in his eyes. He'd make that exchange any time, and without any hesitation. "Good. Please send her away."
"Away? Officer Bradford-"
"- Come on, Doc. Do a dying man a favor."
"… I'll talk to her, but I won't make any promises, Officer Bradford." He heard her steps departing and was left no choice but to assume she was carrying out his wish. A few minutes later, there came another soft knock on the door. Tim figured the doctor had returned to tell him Lucy had gone, but the voice that spoke was one he could pinpoint in any crowd, over any noise.
"Are you there, Bradford?" Lucy asked.
So either Dr. Morgan had ignored his request, or Lucy had. All things considered, he should've predicted that outcome, and to have what might amount to his final request ignored was almost amusing.
Almost.
Before that moment, Tim hadn't cried. Upon hearing Lucy's voice, tears sprang into his eyes immediately. They made his throat constrict, and it was a struggle to speak evenly as he answered, "I'm here."
"Wanna know what I'm thinking about?" She dressed up her tone, concealing her worries with a cheerfulness he immediately recognized as forced. "I'm thinking about which bad movie from your collection you should make me watch after I take my exam. 'True Lies'? 'Executive Decision'?"
Despite himself, Tim chuckled.
"Dr. Morgan says the vaccine will be here in a few minutes," she said then, a direct contradiction to the doctor's timeline of "a few hours".
"You're good at a lot of things, you know? Lying isn't one of them."
At least her smile sounded real when she replied next. "I'm good at things? Can I get that in writing?" He heard her breathe so deeply it reverberated against the door at his back. "It's going to be okay. I really believe that."
No, she didn't. He detected it in the way her voice wavered over the end of her sentence. Tim knew it wasn't what she believed so much as a wish she'd spoken aloud. He replied, "I'm sure you do, but if it isn't-"
She interrupted him, shushing him with a plea. "Don't think like that. You're going to be fine. And if you aren't, I'll never forgive you. Pick a movie."
"Um… 'Executive Decision', I guess." He looked down at his hands, lacing his fingers together as his head dipped forward. "Do you want to talk about the other thing?"
"The other thing?"
"What comes after your probationary year. What we would do. Who we'd be."
"No," Lucy replied after a moment. "No, I don't want to talk about that until I can see your face."
"Lucy-"
Again, she interrupted him. "You really think this is it, don't you?"
"… I knew my odds when I locked myself in here. It's worth it if it kept you safe."
"Not to me. Not if it means I lose you."
"You're going to be fine. You're tough." She scoffed, and in response he gently chided her. "Stop it. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for." He leaned against the door, the wood cold and unmoving at his back. He hated the space between them. Hated this goddamn door with his whole fucking heart. He hated that if this was really the end, there was so much he would miss. There was so much of life with Lucy he would never get to have. Tim knew he had been wasteful; knew, to an extent, he had wasted their precious time together, first by flat out pretending soulmates didn't exist, and then by holding himself accountable to promises no one living had ever asked him to keep. Throughout the long hours of his quarantine, he was tempted to view the whole ordeal as some sort of comeuppance. Maybe this was karma coming for him, some twisted form of cosmic justice demanding payment for all of his years of unbelief, for the ways his unbelief had caused harm. The martyr in him liked to think he could bear just about any punishment.
Hurting Lucy in the process, though? That wasn't justice, and as far as punishment went, it was almost too much to take.
"And if this is it," Tim continued, "I don't want you holding on to me forever. You deserve more than that."
"I wish you wouldn't say things like that."
"I'm serious."
"And if it were me in there?" Lucy wondered. "If I were the one…" He caught her pause, could hear clearly how she choked on the word dying, "… would you be able to move on? Forget me?"
He heaved a heavy sigh, and the answer formed on his lips with the exhale. It was all of the words he'd been saving, holding them back for just the right time, only to realize almost too late that a "right time" might never come. Not for them, at least. Of all the moments possible, Tim wouldn't have chosen this one. He wouldn't have chosen the one that saw them separated by a door and surrounded by medics, the specter of death hovering nearby with Tim squarely in its crosshairs. He knew Lucy deserved more than what amounted to a deathbed confession. He knew she deserved so much better than this.
But he also knew that this could be the last chance life afforded him. With that in mind, Tim refused to leave anything unsaid. "I don't think any man could forget you once he's loved you, Lucy."
"Tim…"
"It's obvious, isn't it?" His vision blurred, and tears again pricked the corners of his eyes. One rolled down his cheek, and he brushed it away with his fingertips. "That's where this was all headed. That was the 'after'. It's not just me who thinks that, right?" Please, say it's not just me.
Lucy's response came softly, muted not just by the door but by her own grief. "No. It's not just you. It wasn't supposed to be like this," she whispered.
"I know, honey, but this is what we've got." Nothing, not even the next breath, was promised to them. He looked at Pete's body, at the circle of blood beneath him. The day had seemed so ordinary when it began. At its start, he never would've imagined saying the words that came next. "And if it comes down to it, I'm not going out like Pete did.
"What do you mean? Tim? What are you saying?"
He thought again of the gun at his side, the city-issued 9 mm that hung from his hip every day. He'd loaded it himself that morning, had inspected it before placing it in the holster. There were seventeen rounds total inside the gun, and all it would take was one. It was a grim truth, and one he wouldn't have shared with anyone that wasn't Lucy. Even then, he only voiced it not to scare her, but to spare her. He was trying to mitigate her pain where he still could. While he still could. "If the time comes, I'm going out on my own terms, and if that happens, I don't want you here. I don't want to do that to you. I can't."
She was silent for a long time. Long enough that he began to think she'd left without another word. She hadn't, and a few minutes later, Lucy's voice once more floated through the door.
"Do you know what happens to the timers when a soulmate dies?" she asked. Tim looked at his left wrist at the mention. He undid his watch as she continued to speak, running his thumb over the timer's screen. "The zeroes turn the dashes the moment it happens. You can pinpoint it down to the second if you know what to look for. If you know what's coming. Isn't that the worst fucking thing? I swear, these clocks are cursed." He heard her laugh, but there was no joy in it. She almost sounded angry.
"Tim," Lucy continued, "it doesn't matter if I'm right here, or down the street, or across the country. If the worst happens, it's going to feel like the world's dropping out from under me. All that to say, I'm not going anywhere. I'm in this until there are dashes on your timer or mine. Whether that's now or in fifty years, I'm with you till the dashes."
He heard her sniffle then, a soft sound that he would've missed had he not been listening intently to every whisper, to every breath. It just about broke Tim's heart to learn she was crying. He so badly wished he could console her; so badly wished he could wipe away each tear. His hands burned with the ache of a hundred times he could have touched her and didn't.
"I'm glad it was you," he said.
"What do you mean?"
"My soulmate. It could've been anyone, but it was you." As he spoke, Tim looked down at his wrist, at the zeroes still across the screen, the green light glowing faintly. How had he ever looked at it with disdain? How had he ever regarded it with anything but wonder? Being linked to Lucy had been lucky. Loving her and being loved by her? That had been a privilege. If this was truly it for him, at least he could go out with that in his heart, with her name on his lips.
"I'm glad it was you, Lucy."
"I'm glad it was you, Tim.
A/N: I'm a little late on posting this one and for that I'm really sorry. In my defense, it's the longest chapter yet (we're over 100k now, people!) and I really needed to get it right. I mean, I want to get ALL of the chapters right, but this was a big one in Lucy's POV and it's a big one for Tim, too. I wanted it to resonate with you, and I've worked really hard to make that happen. Please, if you enjoyed this chapter, comment and let me know!
Many thanks to Heather and Mari who read the first half and encouraged me as I wrote.
Only a few more days until season five, you guys! Thank you for reading!