Even though dinner would, in all likeliness, be a casual affair, Lucy hadn't exactly packed for an evening on the town. She stood over her opened suitcase, unsure of what to wear. Knowing they had tickets to the hayride made her want to skew towards comfortable, too, which she was prepared for a bit more than dinner out. Eventually, she settled on staying in the same jeans she'd worn to Julian that morning, but removed the red sweater. From her suitcase, she withdrew a navy blue top with long lace sleeves. It was by far the nicest shirt she'd brought; maybe not fancy, but perfectly acceptable for a night out with a friend.

Friend, she thought with a sigh as she tucked the blouse into the waistband of her jeans. He had called her a friend, and the moniker was a double-edged sword. On the plus side, it indicated that all had been repaired between them; her gratitude for that could not be overstated.

… But time and distance had not faded her feelings for Tim in the slightest, and all their sudden proximity had done was make it easier to pick them back up. She didn't fall back in love with him so much as she returned to it, remembering it just as she had the practiced rhythm of their conversation. Naming her as a friend reinforced what Lucy had already -had always- known to be true. This would never and could never be more than it was.

Which was… fine. Totally fine.

Tim was waiting for her by the front door as she exited the bedroom. He'd already put on his coat, and once again held hers folded over his right forearm. He smiled when she came into view.

"You look great," he complimented earnestly as they walked outside. It was quite a bit colder now that the sun had set. Their breaths formed little vapor clouds as they walked towards his truck, and a stiff wind from above made the tip of Tim's nose turn red almost immediately.

"Do you think it'll snow tonight?" Lucy asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Tim replied. "That'd be nice though, wouldn't it? Snow on Christmas Eve?"

For dinner, Tim surprised her with reservations at a small restaurant situated beside Lake Cuyamaca. The sign above the door announced the place as The Pub on the Water, and while it was nicer than the diner, it was still informal enough that neither of them felt very out of place in a more dressed-down state. The restaurant was not half as busy as Lucy expected it to be on a holiday, which was lucky for them; upon arriving, a hostess led them to one of the tables by the window, allowing them an unimpeded view of the lake. Although dark now, the night was starry and the moon was half-full, casting a silver shimmer that seemed to sparkle in the gently rippling water. For a moment, they took in the scenery in silence, speaking only when the waiter arrived to ask for their drink orders. They both decided on a glass of white wine, and after he'd gone, it was once more quiet as they looked out across the water.

"I like that color on you," Tim said to Lucy suddenly, and she turned her attention back towards him.

"This color?" Lucy chuckled wryly, looking down at her blouse. "It's practically the same color as our uniforms."

"No, it isn't."

"I mean, it's pretty close."

Their drinks arrived then, the waiter interrupting his response as he set a glass of the house riesling in front of each of them. Tim waited until he'd walked away before completing his answer.

"It's the same color as that dress you have," he said.

"Which dress?"

"The one you wore to Angela's wedding." He picked up his wine, paying a suspicious amount of attention to the contents within as he swirled the pale liquid around before taking a single sip. "The one with the flowers."

Ah. That dress. A little flustered, Lucy mumbled, "I didn't think you saw me."

"I tried not to."

"We don't have to talk about it."

"I want to." He set his glass aside. "I'd like to, now that I know. Now that I understand."

"Tim," Lucy held his gaze with a little hesitation, a flush sweeping up her neck as she felt the full intensity of his stare, "It's okay. It's in the past. You were still upset with me, and in your mind you had every right to be."

"I wasn't upset," he corrected, which she met with disbelief, leaving him to insist, "I wasn't. I was hurt more than anything. After everything that had happened, seeing you survive what you did and still persevere…" Tim paused, his train of thought momentarily disrupted by his own deep breath before he continued, "it was important to me to get you over the finish line. Your win was going to be my win. I didn't handle losing that chance well, and thinking you felt like you didn't need me… it made me feel like all the effort I'd put in hadn't mattered. Like it was nothing."

"Well, if it's any consolation," she answered, "you got your revenge."

"Revenge?"

"I had to finish my training under Smitty, okay? Smitty. I was miserable the entire time." Lucy looked away before whispering, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it was a misunderstanding."

"No, I know that. I'm not sorry I did it," she explained. "It was worth it to see you make sergeant, but I'm sorry that it hurt you. And I'm sorry I made you feel like the time and effort you put in meant nothing to me. It wasn't nothing."

A smile spread slowly across Tim's face as he agreed. "No, Lucy. It wasn't nothing. And I'm sorry, too."

"For what?"

"For holding a grudge. For ignoring you that night." He added last, "For not asking you to dance."

They stopped by the cafe beside the pub after dinner, grabbing hot chocolates to go just before the shop closed for the evening. They warmed their hands around the red paper cups, then slowly walked up Main Street towards Miner's Diner. Like it had been the night before, the town was lit for the holiday. From somewhere in the distance came the melody of church bells ringing, a sound meant to usher parishioners either to or out of a Christmas Eve service, no doubt. As they arrived at the diner, they noticed the Christmas market had closed down. All that remained on the sidewalk now was a wrought iron bench that had been wrapped in a red tinsel garland. Suspended from two plain PVC pipe posts, a sign had been hung that read, "Honey Hayrides Pickup Point".

"This town sure does like alliterations," Tim joked as they took a seat on the bench to wait their turn.

They finished their hot chocolates at five-til the hour. At eight o'clock on the dot, a golf cart decorated with Christmas lights came into view. Behind the cart was a small trailer on a tow. Rectangular straw bales had been fashioned into a makeshift bench, and on top of the bales lay a red and green flannel blanket, most likely to make the seat a bit more comfortable. Manning the cart was none other than Art. To his right sat the woman who had tried her hardest to get Lucy to purchase hayride tickets that afternoon.

Art pressed on the horn in the center of the wheel, greeting Lucy and Tim with two shrill beeps as the cart slowed to a stop, allowing the previous pair of passengers to exit. "Well, hello again, you two," he said, then gently nudged the woman beside him. "Darlene, these are the folks staying up in Little Green."

The woman -Darlene, evidently, and Lucy was glad to finally have a face to put with the name- patted her husband's knee before teasing with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, "Oh, Arthur, I know exactly who they are." To Lucy, she smiled. "It's so nice to make your proper acquaintance, although Tim and I met earlier, didn't we?" Her question was punctuated by a playful wink in Tim's direction, and Lucy got the impression that while she'd managed to resist Darlene's goading, he had been a far more susceptible audience.

The path for the hayride ran back up Main Street, behind the pub, and into the nearby neighborhood. While the sign at the neighborhood's entrance originally read "Welcome to Lake Cuyamaca Residences", for the night it had been transformed into "Julian's Jingle Bell Village". Almost all of the residents had decorated their properties with lights and displays. Some were simple and classic, with white lights strung from the eaves and lit wreaths hanging from doors, while others were more inventive, even flashy. A few houses synched their light displays to music that played from speakers; Art made sure to stop the hayride in front of those, parking the cart until after the short programs ran their courses. All told, the drive through the neighborhood took just shy of thirty minutes. Afterwards, Art steered the golf cart once more towards Main Street, Darlene resting her head against his shoulder the whole way.

Lucy smiled looking at them. "I want that."

"Want what?" Tim asked.

"That." She gestured to the couple in front of them. "I want to be that happy."

"And you weren't happy with your ex?"

"With Chris?" She shrugged. "We weren't unhappy, I guess. Just sort of doomed from the start."

"Why do you think that?"

Oh, the irony, Lucy thought, nearly laughing outright that Tim, of all people, was the one asking that particular question. "I was never going to be able to love him in the way that he deserved."

"Why?"

"Okay, I don't know if the hayride is long enough for that conversation." Still, she tried, and for the first time ever, admitted aloud, "Being with Chris was safe. It was nice, sure, but safe."

"And you… want danger?"

"No, I don't want danger," Lucy said, laughing. "That's not how I'd put it. I…" she considered it for a moment, continuing after a pause. "I want to think about someone throughout the day. I want to see a funny billboard or hear a song or whatever, and think, 'wow, I wish he were here, because I bet he'd like that'." She remembered her final conversation with Chris, hearing in her mind that first, incisive question that had brought their whole relationship to a sudden, unceremonious halt. In a solemn whisper, she added, "I want to miss someone, and I want to know they miss me, too." Then, fearing she'd made the mood a little too somber, Lucy apologized. "Sorry. I'm sure that sounds silly."

"It doesn't," Tim said. "I think I want that, too."

"Really?"

"Really. I mean, who doesn't want to be happy?" His question hung in the air, unanswered. Soon enough, Tim spoke again. "I was waiting for the right moment to give you this, but now seems as good a time as any." He reached beneath his legs and from under the blanket produced a small green bag that he set on her lap. "Merry Christmas, Lucy."

She picked up the bag. "Are you serious? How did you manage to hide this here?"

He looked smug. "Darlene was happy to help.

Of course she was. Lucy smiled. "You shouldn't have." She made quick work of the bag and tissue paper, and before long had managed to free the small, heavy item from its wrapping. It must have been outside for quite a while; the gold was ice cold to the touch, and in the dim light of the street lamps, the green enamel looked so dark it was almost black. Clearly visible, though, were the butterfly's wings, and a half-turn of the key showed the chill had had no adverse effect on the music box's ability to play "Evergreen".

Lucy's jaw dropped before she repeated, "Tim. You really shouldn't have."

"We can't escape green this trip, right?" he replied, a nervous chuckle leaving his mouth. "Do you like it?"

She nodded slowly; uncertainly. "It's beautiful… but it's too much. I can't accept this."

"Too bad. You're going to. Besides, you got me something to remember the trip by, so consider us even."

"Okay, those are hardly comparable gifts, though. I got you a shirt."

"Yeah. You got me a shirt."

"Well, the night is still young," Lucy said as Tim unlocked the cabin's front door. He let her enter first, and she shrugged out of her coat while asking,"What would you like to do?"

"Not sure," he answered, then hung his coat on a hanger. He did the same with hers. "I think I might try out the hot tub." A little awkwardly, he offered, "You can join me if you want."

She thanked him, but declined. "I didn't pack a suit." Sure, she'd initially planned on using the hot tub, but that was back when she thought she had the house to herself. A soak in the buff was one thing in isolation, but in Tim's presence, the notion was unthinkable.

"We can do something else, if you want," he said.

"No, you should go. Don't miss out for my sake."

"You sure?"

Only when she again insisted did Tim excuse himself to change. Left alone in the living room, Lucy walked toward the couch, carefully placing her present from Tim on the coffee table. She removed the music box from the bag, weighing the trinket in her palm without turning the key while studying it pensively. She had not checked the price in the shop, but something so rare and fine surely came at a sizable cost; hardly comparable, as she'd declared at first, to the shirt she'd given him. If he merely wanted to ensure she remembered the trip, he didn't need to spend so much. So what would cause him to spring for such an expensive gift, she thought; that, she still could not suss out.

Her wondering was interrupted when Tim reentered the room. He wore his swimming trunks and a t-shirt and carried a clean towel over his shoulder.

"Last chance, Lucy," he said, and she waved him away.

"Have fun. I'll be fine."

She decided to pass the time reading, and picked up where she'd left off in the novel she'd started earlier that day. Lucy had only made it a few pages into a new chapter when her phone began to ring. Angela was calling, and when Lucy answered, she spoke first without greeting.

"How much do you hate me?" she asked.

Lucy chuckled and closed her book. "Less than I did yesterday."

"That's a relief. What are you up to?"

"Reading. Tim's in the hot tub. Do you want to talk to him?"

"No thanks. I'm good." Then, she wondered, "Why aren't you in the hot tub, Chen?"

"I didn't know the cabin had one," she replied. "I didn't pack a swimsuit."

"Wesley didn't tell you about it?" Taking the speaker away from her mouth, Angela called, "Wesley! You had one job!"

"It's okay! It's okay. I have plenty to keep me occupied, Lopez."

"Well, you could still go in, you know." Angela said. "Skinny dip and really give Tim the shock of his life."

"I don't think he'd appreciate that after last night," she mumbled.

"What'd you say?"

"… Nothing. Seriously, Lopez, I'm fine."

"Come on. Don't let Bradford have all the fun." When Lucy still didn't acquiesce, she offered another solution. "Why don't you go in your undies or something?"

"I don't know…"

"A t-shirt, then. Hell, borrow one of Tim's. He probably won't care."

She looked towards the closed door, then the bedroom. "You know, that's not a bad idea, Lopez."

A few minutes later, she did just as Angela suggested, stripping down to her panties and removing her bra. Going through Tim's suitcase felt over the line, though, so she grabbed a shirt he'd left on the bureau earlier that evening; it was the t-shirt she'd given him, she realized with a grin. The medium ran just a little big, and thank goodness it did, covering down to the top of her thighs. She rolled her hair into a bun on top of her head, grabbed a towel for herself from the linen closet, then stopped in the kitchen before going outside. She abandoned the hope for Christmas mimosas, grabbing the champagne and searching in earnest for the champagne glasses, finding them on a high shelf above the fridge that she had to climb to reach.

The floodlights were off when she walked outside, but thanks to the hot tub's interior light fixture, Lucy managed to see just fine. The foamy water glowed blue, the level reaching Tim's chest. He reclined with his head against the edge, his arms draped over the sides, and the noise from the jacuzzi jets concealed the sound of her footsteps as she crossed the wooden deck.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked when she reached the tub.

Tim looked over, smirking as he wagged a finger at her once. "That's my shirt, Chen."

"It is. I've decided we have partial custody for the night." She placed her towel on the step beside his. "I'm coming in. Scoot over."

He did not, as she ordered, "scoot over". Instead, Tim stood and held her elbow, steadying Lucy as she stepped into the tub while holding the glasses and champagne. "What's the champagne for?"

"For fun." She set the glasses down on the wide lip of the tub, then carefully removed the foil and popped the cork on the bottle before pouring them both a glass. "I was saving these for mimosas tomorrow, but I figured, what the hell." She handed one glass to Tim, then picked up the second for herself before sinking into the water with a contented moan. "Oh. Okay. Lopez was right to make me do this. This is amazing."

"You talked to Lopez?"

"She called while I was inside."

"What'd she say?"

"Not much. She did say I should go into the hot tub even if I didn't have a suit. The shirt was her idea, so if you want to be upset, blame her."

"Didn't say I was upset."

Lucy took a sip of her champagne. "How often do you talk?"

"Who? Me and Lopez?"

"Yeah."

Tim thought about it. "A few times a week, I think. Not as much as we did when I was at Mid-Wilshire."

"Do you ever miss Mid-Wilshire?"

"Not really. North Hollywood isn't all that different, you know. Older building, same way of operating." He did admit, "I guess I miss the people though. "

"You guess?"

"Some of them. Lopez. Sergeant Grey… Nolan."

She snorted, teasing back, "Well, I can't speak for everyone else, but Nolan was pretty devastated when you left.."

Tim smirked, but didn't respond to her joke directly. "I went through a lot there. It was hard to leave." He looked down at his glass; so far, he had not taken a single drink. "We were sort of friends, weren't we? At the end?"

"Who? You and Nolan?"

"You and me."

Friend. There was that word again, more bitter now by far than when he'd said it earlier that day, and she couldn't make out why it pained her more now than it had only hours ago. Lucy nodded, agreeing through a tight smile, "Yeah, Tim. Yeah, we were friends." It stung to say, but she masked it by draining the last of her champagne. "Mind pouring me a refill?" she asked, handing him her glass.

He turned away to reach for the bottle. Doing so forced him to emerge halfway out of the water, and in an instant, Lucy's gaze landed on a red stripe about two inches long that ran parallel to Tim's spine, only a few centimeters above the waistband of his shorts.

"Tim." She gasped his name, and after another second had closed what little space there was between them. Without thinking, she reached out, her fingertips connecting carefully with the scar on his back. Her sudden touch did not seem to hurt him; he didn't move, but her fingers had not lingered long before she began to withdraw, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't."

Lucy was not sure what he meant by that, but as he had not pulled away, she did not interpret his reply as stop. For a second time, she lifted her hand, stroking her thumb gently down the ridge of his scar. The wound had healed, leaving only the raised, reddish line and the faint impression of surgical staples on either side. It would've been painful, she knew. Possibly excruciating. No wonder Angela had been so keen on giving him a restful holiday.

"Were you alone?" she asked. "When the surgery happened. Were you alone?"

Fortunately, he hadn't been. "A few folks from my station helped out. I had my sister. I had Lopez. People did what they could for me."

That was good to hear. Good, but it still made her heart ache to know that in his darkest moment, she had not been among his supporters. "I should've been there."

"What do you mean?"

"You were there for me after Caleb." He tensed beneath her hand upon hearing her dead captor's name, but she did not let him dwell on it for long. Barreling on, Lucy said, "You stayed with me."

"That's not the same." Tim turned to face her. "I had to make sure you were okay. I wanted you to know you were safe."

"You didn't let me out of your sight the entire time I was in the hospital. That's a bit different than just making sure I was okay, isn't it?" When he didn't argue, she continued. "I would've done the same, you know. If I'd known what happened, I mean. I would've done the same. Because we're… " she sighed; it felt like the word burned the tip of her tongue as she said, "friends."

After a moment, Tim agreed with a slow, pensive nod. "Right… friends."

A/N: Thank you for reading!