A miracle. Divine intervention. Plain, old, dumb luck. Whatever it was -whichever force was operating on Tim's behalf- he somehow made it through the night, coming out the other side without showing a single symptom. By the end of what Dr. Morgan believed to be the incubation window, the experimental vaccine had arrived. He was permitted to leave the room, casting one last, sorrowful look back towards Pete's body before unlocking the door. Dr. Morgan vaccinated him the moment he was out of the room, and it was there that his streak of good fortune ended.

The last thing Tim remembered was swaying on his feet a few steps away from the decontamination tent. He slowed to a stop as he began to feel suddenly ill. In his stomach, he felt a sharp jab of nausea, and although his body wanted to bend in the direction of the cramp, he couldn't move. A second later, the edges of his vision began to blur. A voice called his name, and then everything went black.

His mind woke up before his body did, stirred to consciousness by the sensation of a weight pressing on his chest. There was the unmistakeable sound of rapid gunfire ringing out above him, and still the pressure stayed firm over his body in a protective embrace. When the shots ceased, a kiss was placed to the back of his left hand. Lucy's lips were soft and warm, and her breath ghosted over his skin as she pleaded in a whisper, "Please wake up."

Then she was gone. There was the sound of more gunfire, and this time, Tim could hear screams. It felt like forever before he could move his fingers, and after that point, mobility returned quickly, coursing up his limbs like it was carried on his blood. He bolted upright, located his gun, and kicked open the ambulance door with his weapon held high.

He spotted the shooter immediately. A lone woman in a leather jacket, she carried an automatic rifle, and Tim could see she had Nolan in her sights. He grabbed the railing above him for balance and squeezed the trigger twice. The rounds struck the shooter in the chest, and she fell.

With the danger gone, Tim could pause to breathe. He was still dizzy, still shaky, and his hand remained wrapped around the rail as Lucy raced to the back of the ambulance. Her eyes shone seeing him upright and awake. She subtly offered him help getting down, and once he was on solid ground, she spoke.

"I think I changed my mind about the bad movie you owe me."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. We're gonna go with 'Die Hard', because this little stunt here? Very John McClane of you." She managed a smirk, but it was strained, almost tearful. The danger was still too near for either of them to make jokes in earnest.

They did not get a chance to speak more than that. Almost immediately, Tim found himself once again swarmed by the team from the CDC. Out of an abundance of caution they hurried him to a room in the ICU, and he was once more captive to their stringent monitoring. The hospital had been placed on lockdown following the shooting and as a result, only his emergency contact was permitted to visit. Angela was more than willing to help once he called. She arrived a few hours later, having packed him a bag with items from his home, and did not stay long after dropping off the tote filled with clothes and toiletries. She, like Tim himself, had been up for over twenty-four hours and was ready to sleep. So was he, and after Angela left, Tim crashed, a hard and dreamless sleep that only lasted an hour or two. A member of Dr. Morgan's team stirred him awake before he felt even close to adequately rested.

"Wake up, Officer Bradford," was all she said. He was permitted the chance to change, and after doing so was handed a small meal. As he ate, his phone chimed. A text from Lucy had come through.

I tried to come see you but they wouldn't let me in.

It's okay. Lopez dropped off some of my things and let me know what happened.

How long will you be gone?

He wasn't sure. The last he'd heard, they wanted to observe him at one of the CDC's satellite offices for twenty-four hours. Now that he'd had an adverse reaction, the doctors couldn't guarantee him a timeline.

Don't know.

Let me know when you get to Atlanta, okay?

"Let's go, Officer Bradford." The doctor who'd woken him came in and ordered. He was not given the chance to answer Lucy or finish his meal. The team attending to him had already gathered in the lobby. It was time to leave.


Tim's time in Atlanta passed at a dragging pace. Hours felt like days, days felt like weeks, and he never managed to establish a rhythm or routine while there. He was prodded and poked like a pin-cushion at seemingly random intervals. It felt like the only time he saw another human was when someone came to draw more blood, to run more tests, or to ask him yet more questions. The entire process was disheartening and incredibly isolating. Throughout, he had only one bright spot to rely on: the messages that came from home. Personally, Tim preferred phone calls, where tone was clearer and words could not be misconstrued as easily. Lucy operated differently, and ever since he'd left, she'd sent one or two messages a day that every time managed to put a smile on his face and an inexplicable ache in his heart.

He missed her. Of course he did, but there was more than that, too. He sensed in her messages a candor they'd previously not approached, a familiarity that was so much more than friendship. There was almost expectation in the way she spoke to him in her texts, and that made him just a little concerned. No matter what he'd said, he was still her TO, and his near-miss with death had forced him over boundaries he never would have crossed otherwise. Unsure of how to answer, he said nothing, and although absence did make the heart grow fonder, it also made him really fucking nervous. As he marked a week in Atlanta, Tim regarded his actions at Pete's house as unnecessary and motivated by fear; the feelings he expressed were real, if recent, and while he'd been afraid of dying with them unspoken, justifying his actions with that excuse only went so far.

It was too much, and happening too fast. He was newly divorced and already in deep for a beautiful and extraordinary woman. Newly divorced, and already craving her touch and presence. Now that the feeling had been confessed -now that the word "love" was out there between them- Tim felt uneasy. He knew only too well how suddenly things could fall apart, had been reeling from the heartbreak of his failed marriage until just a few months ago. Left on his own, his mind spun through the scenarios, counting and recounting all the ways that this (that they) could fail. No matter their intentions, his or Lucy's, there were no guarantees. That thought alone would have been enough to leave him feeling haunted, and perhaps just as daunting was considering all the ways it could go right.

Tim had always wanted a family; he had, even as a younger man, dreamed of a house, of getting married and having kids. He'd once thought he'd have that life with Isabel, and had discarded the dream after she left, writing it off as foolish. Giving up his hopes for the future felt like a tragedy at the time. To feel that that flame rekindled, to have that hope return now? That was fucking terrifying. He'd never been closer to having every desire of his heart, but that realization was not a comfort when another followed it: never in his life had he had so much to lose.


It was another week before the CDC decided they were bored with him and returned Tim to Los Angeles. He arranged to have Angela pick him up, and she took a half-day off work to accommodate his request.

"You're making it back just in time," she said as he opened the door. "Sergeant Grey says the six-month exam scores are in."

"Nice." He buckled his seatbelt. "Guess I better give Daya a call." Every time a rookie passed the six month exam, he had his friend on the bomb squad rig up a harmless IED. It was practically a tradition of his, a way to keep his current recruits on their toes during the back half of their probation.

Angela's nose wrinkled as she asked, "You're going to prank Lucy?"

"Why wouldn't I? I do it for every rookie," Tim replied, then corrected, "Also, it's not a prank. It's a teaching tool."

"It's a powder bomb."

"It gets the point across, doesn't it?"

She scoffed. "Whatever." After a moment, she added, "I've gotta say, I was a little surprised that you asked me to pick you up. Thought for sure you'd call Lucy."

Tim turned away, looking out the window. "We haven't spoken since I left," he answered simply.

"Really? That doesn't sound like her."

"I mean, I haven't talked to her. She texted me, but there was a lot happening."

"So… you ghosted her?"

"I did not ghost her," he insisted, clarifying, "I… took a break. A beat."

"And did you tell her ahead of time about this 'beat' of yours?"

Tim met her question with silence. It was all the answer she needed.


Sergeant Grey was the first to welcome him back to Mid-Wilshire, intercepting Tim as he walked towards the locker room the next morning before his shift began. After a few questions about his health and time in Atlanta, the sergeant asked him to come to his office once he was in uniform.

"That sounds bad," he commented flatly, which Grey answered by assuring him all was well.

"Everything is fine. Officer Chen submitted her report from Pete Langston's house while you were gone," he replied. "I wanted to review it with you before I submit it."

Shit. Tim had a sinking feeling he knew what the sergeant wanted to say. Lucy would've been thorough on her report (she was always thorough, and this case in particular held personal significance for her). No doubt she'd made mention of his singular comment; his plan to, if the worst happened, end his own life rather than suffer the full effects of the virus. If she'd done as he guessed she had, he was looking at mandated therapy, possibly facing yet another period of leave until he could be cleared for duty. He entered the office and braced for the bad news, but all Grey did was hand him a file.

"Chen's report seems pretty clear," Sergeant Grey said as he leaned back against his desk, allowing Tim a moment to read through the contents. "I just wanted to see if there's anything you'd like to add."

He read through it quickly, noticing at once the absence of his suicidal ideations. With anyone else, it might have been oversight. A mistake, carelessly made. Not with Lucy, though. Tim was sure of that much. She'd obfuscated on purpose, with intention. To protect him? Most likely. He couldn't think of many other reasons why she'd exclude a detail that noteworthy, and remembered the last time she'd declared she would protect him. That had been months ago and at the time, he'd refused. This time, she'd taken the choice out of his hands, She'd covered for him without question and without asking. Unfortunately by doing so, Lucy had, probably without realizing it, put him in an impossible bind.

As he continued to skim the file, Grey prompted, "Is there anything you'd like to add to the report, Officer Bradford? Any clarifying details Officer Chen might have missed?"

What could he say? If it affected no one else, Tim would've revealed his ideations, however brief and circumstantial, and taken whatever leave they felt was necessary. But this was Lucy, and Lucy's report; contradicting her would undoubtedly create a negative perception around her work ethic. Her decision to conceal for his sake had the potential to cause blowback on multiple fronts. For one thing, she'd lied to protect her training officer. For another, she'd lied to protect her soulmate. Tim knew how Captain Andersen would've reacted to deception of this sort. Hadn't she warned him of the consequences directly? He knew he couldn't expect grace from Sergeant Grey, whose sense of integrity was just as firm as the captain's had been.

He closed the folder and handed it back to the sergeant. "No, sir. I have nothing to add."


He was one of the first to arrive to the roll call, waiting with his arms crossed as other officers filtered in gradually. Most were happy when they greeted Tim, expressing their excitement at seeing him back. A few ribbed him for his long absence, asking whether he'd enjoyed his "vacation". Even good-natured teasing didn't put him off being irritated, and the feeling spiked when Lucy entered the room.

A blend of emotion crossed her face when she saw him, confusion mixed with cheer, disappointment with relief. She looked at him with joy, with apprehension, and seemed perplexed by his subdued response to her welcome. After Grey dismissed the roll call, she took off to set up their shop without speaking to him further, leaving him open for Angela to approach and brag about the exam scores. She was certain her boot had managed to wrangle the highest marks, a fact she lorded over him proudly for a minute before asking, "Did Daya make you that itty bitty bomb?"

Tim nodded. "You know it," he replied, but both fell silent as Lucy approached. After dismissal, she'd changed into short sleeves. Protocol dictated that the earliest a rookie could wear the short-sleeved uniform was after the six-month mark, but uniforms were subject to the training officer's discretion for the entire probationary period; a fact Tim voiced sternly before ordering her to go change back into long sleeves.

Angela waited until Lucy had walked away to swiftly nudge him in the ribs. "You're being a little harsh on her," she noted.

"No harsher than I would any other rookie."

His friend's brow furrowed. "I mean… she's not any other rookie, though. Right?"

He glanced at her. "What are you implying?"

"Nothing, I'm just saying-"

"I know what my Boot needs, Lopez," he retorted dismissively, then stalked away before she could say more.

The shift that followed was filled with as much, if not more, tension than their first ever shift had been. Daya's device worked perfectly, as Tim had known it would. Lucy did not see the humor in getting surprised with a face-full of white powder nor did she seem all that appreciative of the surprise lesson about how radio frequencies could interact negatively with explosives. They continued on the road with scarcely a word said between them, and in the silence Tim began to steam over her lack of honesty on her police report. At first he'd been angry, but now he was disappointed and maybe even a little embarrassed. It was clear to him that for every inch he'd given Lucy, she'd helped herself to a mile. Clearer still was the fact that she, too, sensed the tension approaching a boiling point, but she wisely refrained from addressing it while they were on the clock. As he got out of the shop at the end of their day, Lucy asked sharply, "What are you doing?"

"Clocking out and heading home."

She walked around the front of the shop, blocking his path. "No. I mean, why are you treating me like it's day one all over again?"

"It is day one. It's day one of stage two of your training."

"I'm not just talking about my training, and you know it," she snapped through a glower. "Why are you doing this? Have I… have I lost all the respect I've earned from you."

"You lost that when you lied on a report."

Lucy's eyebrows shot upward. "When I did whatnow?"

Did she really forget so easily? "At the quarantine house. When I thought I was infected, I told you I'd rather take my life than die from the virus, and you failed to report it."

"And that was your main takeaway from that day?"

"Suicidal ideations from a law enforcement officer are extremely serious and should have been reported.

"You weren't even actually suicidal!"

"You should have detailed everything, regardless of the consequences, and instead you opted to protect me. That's unacceptable, and you know it."

"Fine. Maybe I was protecting you." Lucy conceded as she shifted onto her back foot. "Maybe I should have reported it 'regardless of the consequences', like I should have every single time I watched you cover for Isabel. If you want to rake me over the coals for the next six months, you go ahead," she seethed, "But don't act like it's because you've got some code."

With that, she stormed away, turning on her heel and leaving him behind. Tim watched her go and, as she departed, felt tempted to follow. It was his own stubbornness that kept him still, that rooted him firmly in place. She was angry. So was he. They both needed a chance to cool down; they both needed some time to level out before they said something they couldn't take back.

Again.


Angela was waiting for him when he arrived home after work. His friend's face was without its usual smile, not even her typical smirk on her lips as Tim pulled into the drive. She was leaning against the front door, which he privately found silly. She knew where he kept the spare key; if she wanted to go in, she should have. He could tell by her expression, by her posture, that it was not a friendly visit. Her crossed arms hinted at a confrontation, and her lack of smile deepened into a full frown as he approached.

"What's going on?" she asked as he walked up the driveway.

Tim shrugged. "You tell me. You're the one who showed up uninvited."

Her eyes narrowed into a glare. "Don't be an ass, Tim. I've let you get away with acting like a punk today because it's your first day back. I know something's up, so tell me the truth: what's going on?"

"Nothing."

"Lie."

He fiddled absently with the strap on his back pack. "Fine," Tim hedged. "Nothing I can't handle."

"Another lie. Come on, man."

"Look, if you're going to grill me, can we at least go inside?" He gestured towards the door.

Angela agreed and followed him inside. She gave him the courtesy of a few minutes to get settled, waiting on the couch as he put away his backpack and got them both a drink. Her patience waned as he began speaking, an exasperated sigh or two leaving her mouth as Tim stumbled through a few false starts and half-formed explanations. Finally, he said, "It started at the quarantine house. Two weeks ago, when I was locked in the room with Pete Langston. I watched him die, Lopez. He was six feet from me, and I knew I wasn't going to go out that way. I told Lucy what I planned to do, and she left it off her report."

Angela didn't seem moved by his explanation. "So?"

"What do you mean, 'so'? She should've included that."

"And that's why you're being a jerk? That's why you didn't text her in Atlanta?"

"No. I didn't know about the report until today. The texts are a… whole different thing."

"How so?"

"It's complicated," he mumbled. "I shouldn't have…" he began, then pivoted. "I wouldn't have if I didn't think." Finally, he said, "It wasn't that I was never going to tell her. I had just planned to wait."

"Tell her what?" Angela asked. "Wait for what?" When he didn't answer, she grumbled, "Jesus, it's like pulling teeth to get straight fucking answers out of you."

"I thought I was going to die, Angela. I thought I was infected, and I…" he took a deep breath, "I said things to Lucy that I shouldn't have, because I thought I wouldn't have the chance if I waited."

"What sort of things?"

"You know." He glanced at Angela, feeling a little silly that it even needed said. "Things like, how I feel about her." Even though she was angry, satisfied glee instantly broke out on her face, making Tim frown. "All right, come on. Don't do that."

"What?" she asked, still smiling. "It's sweet. Who knew you were such a softy?"

"I am not, and it's not sweet. I shouldn't have said it. It's changed everything." He paused, gaze lowering. "It's not like it is with you and Wesley. You guys had the room in your lives for one another the moment your timers went off. I was married. She was -she is- my rookie."

"Hey, it hasn't been a bed of roses for me and Wesley either, you know."

"I know," Tim acknowledged quietly. "Still, though."

"Yeah. I know. It's different."

They both fell silent then, and it was several minutes before Tim revealed, "I don't know what I do now." He looked over at Angela. "Tell me what I should do now."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not the one you should be asking."

"… Do you think she's mad at me?"

"Probably," Angela answered. "I would be if you ignored me for two weeks. She's earned being mad, don't you think?"

"Yeah," he agreed immediately, nodding. "Yeah. I do."

"You remember what you told me a while back? When Wesley and I were getting back together?" He didn't respond, and she snickered. "Of course you don't. You're terrible at remembering good advice, even when it's yours." She put her hand on his back and patted twice. "You said, you're both going to mess up at some time or another. It's what you do after that matters. So… fix this, Tim. Fix this while you still can."

Nolan was not surprised, per se, when Tim asked him for advice the next day after work. Not surprised, but neither was he pleased. Tim recalled the other man's tone the last time they'd talked about Lucy, had not forgotten the undercurrent of a warning in the way he'd asked Tim to do a better job of considering his friend's feelings. Tim knew asking for help would require him to first admit failure. Afterwards, he'd have to submit himself to the mortifying ordeal of being at the mercy of Nolan's compassion. He didn't give a long-winded explanation, could barely remember what all he said in the lead-up to his final words, which were the truest and most important.

"Please help me, Nolan. I really fucked up."

Nolan closed his locker before turning to look at Tim. "Well, for an apology, I've always found that flowers go a long way." He stood. "For the rest of it… I mean this respectfully, sir, but, have you thought of therapy?" When Tim briefly balked at the suggestion, Nolan hurried to explain. "It helped me a lot when my marriage was ending. I know our situations are totally different, but-"

"-You're right. They are." Tim interrupted. Then, he sighed. "But you're right that it might help." Nolan seemed relieved that, despite not being thrilled with the suggestion, he wasn't angered by it either.

"So… flowers?" Tim continued. "Any particular kind?"

Armed with the knowledge Nolan gave him, Tim left the station. He stopped by a nearby flower shop for a bundle of pink peonies, which were, according to Nolan, Lucy's favorites. The shop attendant wrapped the bouquet in brown paper and twine, and he laid it carefully across the front seat of his truck before swinging by his house and picking up a movie. He had remembered a comment Lucy had made outside the hospital and planned to include Die Hard in his gesture. Hopefully she would laugh when she saw the DVD case. Lastly, he ordered dinner for them on his way there, and walked up her stairs with nerves growing every step.
Tim's hand shook as he knocked on the door. She answered a moment later, and the first words out of his mouth were rightly, "I'm sorry, Lucy. Can we talk?"

She didn't react at first; didn't speak or smile, but allowed him to enter without a word of greeting or of protest. After the door closed behind him, he handed her the flowers.

"How did you know I like peonies?" Lucy asked, raising her finger to brush over one of the blooms.

"I have my ways," he replied, and although he tried to sound confident, he knew it came across as uneasy. He had no clue how this would play out, how she'd react to him now. In some ways, it felt like he had through his own carelessness manifested his greatest fear, that she would "wise up and walk away" as he'd worried she'd do weeks ago. He had no one to blame for the distance but himself.

"I suppose that's code for 'I asked Jackson'," Lucy snapped. She avoided his eyes, pretending to take great interest in the flowers. He figured he deserved that, both the retort and the avoidance, but still followed her to the kitchen as she pulled a green glass vase out from beneath the sink.

"Actually, I asked Nolan. He knows way too much about you."

She stood, still intent on ignoring his stare, but he didn't have to have eye contact to see that a blaze of anger had ignited in her eyes. "Huh. So you'll talk to my friends, but not to me? That sounds about par for the course." She turned on the faucet with one jerky motion, beginning to fill the vase before asking, "Do you really think I would've let you out of my sight for a second?"

"What?"

"If you were really suicidal." Lucy shut the water off. "Do you think I would've let you get away with ignoring my messages for that long if I thought you were going to hurt yourself? That I wouldn't have, I don't know, snuck myself into your luggage and gone to Atlanta with you?" She reached for kitchen shears then, tapping the closed blade against her palm as she thought. "But that's not the whole story, is it? That's not why you acted like this. Something else is."

"Lucy, I don't have an excuse for what I did."

She fixated again on the blooms, trimming the ends with the scissors as she spoke. "I'm not asking for an excuse, Tim, but I'm owed an explanation."

"I don't think you'll like what I have to tell you."

Finished with the stems, she set the shears aside. They landed on the kitchen counter with a clatter. "I don't care if I like it. I deserve to know." After a moment, she asked, "Did you mean what you said?"

"What I said?"

"At Pete's house. 'I don't think any man could forget you once he's loved you, Lucy', 'I'm glad it was you'. Did you mean it, or have you changed your mind? Is that why you've been pushing me away?"

Again, he heaved a sigh. "Lucy, will you look at me?"

Her chin trembled. "No."

"Please." When she again refused, he dropped the DVD onto the kitchen counter and entered her space. One of his hands rose to her face, covering her cheek before carefully, gently turning her face towards him as his thumb stroked a line across her soft skin. "I'm never going to change my mind about you. I'm in this till the dashes, too."

"Really?" He saw the hint of her smile on her lips, but it was still overpowered by uncertainty.

"Really. And that terrified me." He laid it out for her plainly, every fear that had arisen during their time apart spilling out of his lips with ease. "I've thought everything I wanted was in the palm of my hand before. That whole cliche with the house, the fence, two-point-five kids… all of it. After Isabel, I didn't think I'd ever want those things again, but then you… you got to me."

"I psyched myself out when I was in Atlanta," he continued, his voice filling with regret. "Can't just let myself be happy, I guess. I could only see what might go wrong, and I had no idea how to respond to your texts without giving away how much I was struggling." He wasn't proud of how he shut her out, wasn't proud of how trying to exclude her from his struggle had hurt her more than he'd realized. He felt like the worst kind of person, and he bit out finally, "Anyway, that's what happened, but I know that's no excuse. I'm so sorry."

"Oh, Tim," Lucy breathed, covering the hand on her cheek with her palm. "Why didn't you tell me? Don't you trust me by now?"

"It's not that I don't trust you, Lucy. I don't trust me. How can I look at you and not see all my dead dreams living? How can I look at you and not want everything? It scares the shit out of me, because what if I make a mess of this? You're not just my soulmate. You're my friend, and my Boot, and if I fuck it up-"

Lucy silenced him with a single touch, her hands cupping either side of his face. She gently pulled him lower, bringing his forehead to rest against hers. "Tim," she whispered after a long while had passed, "you know I trust you, right?"

"Yes."

"And you trust me?"

"Of course I do."

"Then stop worrying about messing it up. We're a team. I've got you, and you've got me, and as long as we have this, we can handle the rest." Lucy lowered her hands, letting them slide to his shoulders before looking up at him with an impish grin. "Now… what's this about two-point-five kids?"

His eyes flew open to find her grinning. "Oh for fuck's sake.."

"I'm just saying, kids already?" Lucy's hands twisted into his collar, pretending to straighten the fabric as she teased, "Shouldn't you at least take me on an actual date first?"

"I knew as soon as I said it that you would focus on that."

"Hey, you're the one who brought up children." She chuckled, then noted a little more seriously, "It feels like we're doing things backwards."

"Does that bother you?"

"No. No, I wouldn't change a thing." Her hands released him, and she stepped back. "But what happens now? I mean, we feel how we feel," a slight smile on her lips at the memory, and fuck him, his heart wanted to burst knowing that, in spite of all his fuckups and missteps, that remained true, "but the job, and… everything else."

"I know." Tim had only had a little while to think over that very thing, spending the short drive to her apartment by mulling over their options, by weighing their next steps. He worried the conclusion he'd reached would disappoint her, and so started tentatively, "I think for now it's gotta be business as usual. I'm still your TO. No matter how we feel, this can't be more than it is right now. Not because I don't want to," he rushed to add, "but I'd like to get you through training first. And…" he paused, thinking of his conversation with Nolan, of his talk with Angela the night before, "… I'm not ready. If the last two weeks have shown me anything, it's that I have a lot of shit to work through. I don't want to keep being like this. I don't want to hurt you. I want to be good to you, but I need more time so I can learn how to do that. Is that okay?"

Her smile was tight and forced, but Lucy nodded. "Yeah. That's okay."

He could tell it wasn't, groaning, "You're disappointed."

"No, no. I understand." He eyed her warily, and she confessed, "All right, I'll admit that after a near miss like the one we just had, the idea of waiting even longer is a little bit of a bummer, but it's okay." Once more, her hand went to his chest, resting briefly over his heart. "You're worth waiting for, Tim," Lucy said, smirking, "… and let's be honest, switching TOs at this point would be kind of a hassle. Who'd even take me? Smitty?"


A/N: Sorry this one took a while. I lost a few days worth of writing thanks to migraines, and then I had a hard time getting the words to come. Although a necessary part of the story, this wasn't exactly a popular chapter in Lucy's POV and I think that affected my desire to write it from Tim's perspective. I love my Chenford babies but that doesn't mean I always agree with them. Anyway, this chapter wouldn't have gotten out at all without Daisy, Ash, Heather and Mari's support! A huge thanks as well to Nicole/westcoast_hazel who let me vent in her DMs when I was struggling and talked me through a few issues I was having with this update.

Thank you for reading!