It was Lopez that helped crack him out of… whatever this was that came over him. She swatted at his forearm, connecting with a light smack. The slap and the sound were enough to break him loose of it, and Tim shook his head, trying to dispel the last of the haze just as the sergeant spoke.

"Bradford, Chen. My office," Grey said, stern over the whoops and wolf whistles of the other patrolling officers. At his order, Tim rounded the tables. With every step, the weird tugging feeling intensified, and then it snapped when he touched her. It was just one touch, only on her elbow and through her uniform, but his heart began to pound the moment his fingers curled around her arm. This whole fucking thing was ridiculous, he said to himself as he marched her out of the bullpen, sparing only a second to glare at Smitty who had started loudly humming "The Wedding March" as they walked by.

Neither of them said a word until the door to Grey's office closed behind them with a slam. Tim was content to stay silent until the sergeant came, but Officer Chen had other ideas.

"Thanks for getting me out of there," was all she said.

"I didn't do it for you, Boot," he shot back, the embarrassment making him snippy. "I did it because Grey said so."

Her smile dropped at his snark. "I must have missed that," she whispered.

"Yeah. Must have."

The roll ended then, and officers streamed out of the room, striding off to their various assignments. The other two rookies -Nolan and West- paused briefly just to wave at Lucy through the office window, making Tim turn to check on her. She was standing still on the opposite end of the room and hadn't moved since he last addressed her. That handful of seconds where his back was towards her reset the clock enough that the feeling of being overwhelmed by her returned full force. Without the tables and without the other officers in the way, he could see not only her face but her body. Before he could think better of it, his eyes swept over her figure in one quick scan.

The unflattering cut of the uniform was not enough to conceal the form she hid underneath it. Chen was pretty short; he realized he cleared her by almost a foot as he walked her into the office, but only when they were out of sight of the others did he have a chance to notice and appreciate the curve of her hips, how her waist narrowed into a natural cinch. Tim's fingers twitched at his side once, then twice as he imagined without intending to what it would be like to let his hand coast up her body, starting with her hip and working upward. He shook his head before the thought could take root, disgusted with himself as he turned away. He'd never objectified his recruits before, and he wasn't about to start now, no matter the connection he supposedly had to this one. Yet, despite his attempts to squash it all, the want, and the burn, and the feeling that touching her was like grabbing a live wire remained.

Tim could tell that Grey was holding back laughter when he entered the room. Sarge didn't speak until the door was closed behind him, nodding subtly to Tim before addressing him and Chen both at the same time.

"Well, on the one hand, Mazel Tov." He walked towards his desk and let the notes from roll land on the tabletop with a muted slap. "On the other, not sure what the hell to do with either of you now. No real protocol on this sort of thing, although I suppose we can invoke certain 'fraternization among officers' standards if we really need to."

Tim was vaguely familiar with the protocol Grey mentioned. It was a policy he'd encountered when he and Isabel began dating. They toed the line until she was assigned to a different division. The wait had been agony, but it was the right move for the sake of both of their careers. This didn't feel the same, though. He hadn't even considered before Grey mentioned it that Chen could be moved out from under his care. Okay, not "care", as in he cared… instruction. Moving her out struck him as unnecessary. Unsavory. Cops were notoriously judgmental (it sort of went with the job), so splitting them over the timers could possibly mark them both. Tim saw clearly how it might make him look incapable of separating his feelings from the job, and whatever scrutiny he received to that end would only be doubled when it came to Chen. She could do what she liked, but Tim determined then and there that he wasn't going to let the career he worked for take the fall for her comfort.

He interrupted Sergeant Grey before he could get much farther. "Sir? If I may?"

"You may."

"I can promise that the fact our timers say we're a match will have no impact whatsoever on my ability to train Officer Chen. No offense. I'm sure you're a nice girl," he acknowledged her briefly before letting the hammer drop, "but I don't believe in soulmates."

It was not the way he would've wanted to have this conversation; in front of the sergeant, only a few minutes after the timers went off. He was an unbeliever, not a bully, but he was trying to stop a moving train before it went completely off the rails. Chen would get over it.

Not without saying her piece, though. No sooner had he said he didn't believe than she responded, "But… you have a timer."

"And you have your ears pierced. So, we both know a little something about body modification." Was it tipping his hand to reveal he already had taken notice of such a small detail? Oh well, too late now. "Sir," he began, addressing Grey once more, "I can guarantee-"

It was Chen that interrupted next, turning to Tim with her hand raised level to his chest. "Wait a second. I'm a grown woman, okay? Not a girl, so I'd appreciate it if you kept that in mind when you're talking to me or about me."

… Fair enough. "Girl" was wrong of him, but before he could correct himself she spoke again.

"Secondly, if you didn't believe in soulmates, why did you get a soulmate timer? A lot of effort for something you don't think is real."

"I don't have to explain my decisions to anyone, least of all you, Boot," was his reply, and he felt a little smug as his response landed so perfectly, she was struck speechless.

It didn't last though, and barely a full pause followed before she spoke again. "Can I ask what your plan was, sir? Were you just going to let your timer zero out, have a laugh at your match's expense, then go about your day like it was nothing?"

Tim squared up to her for the first time and scolded through a frown, "I am not having this conversation with you right now." His tone was firm; a warning, and he expected it to be enough.

It wasn't. Of course it wasn't, because Lucy fucking Chen was determined to have the last word, either literally or by implication. So as he did his best to glare her into submission, she stared him down, unblinking. She didn't even wince.

Tim would be charmed if he weren't so pissed.

Grey saved them from themselves by clearing his throat. "Well, here's how I see it," he began, and once his attention returned to the sergeant, Tim noticed the other man's shoulders were shaking. He was barely concealing laughter at their expense. "Officer Bradford is one hell of a TO, and if he says this won't be an obstacle, I'm inclined to trust him. Unless you think this is going to be a problem." The question he followed it with was directed solely to the new officer. "Is this going to be a problem, Chen?"

Chen kept her focus on the sergeant, allowing Tim the chance to watch her curiously. He wondered what she'd say. From what he gathered just in the past few minutes, she was a believer in the timers. He wouldn't be shocked if she asked to be reassigned. Of course, Tim's offer to stick it out anyway was genuine, but he didn't expect her to take him up on it. He bet she'd request to go to Lopez or Bishop instead. Yeah, he thought as he sized her up again. The bravado was all bluster. She was going to bail out. He was sure of it.

"No, sir," Chen replied, and at first Tim was certain he misheard until she confirmed it. "It won't be a problem.

… Huh…

Well…

Fuck.

That made two surprises.

He promised Grey it wouldn't make a difference, and he made good on that. Tim was tough on her from the get-go; no tougher than he would be on any rookie, he told himself, but as the day wore on and that tugging feeling -more like a gnaw, now- didn't settle, the irritation he felt became agitation. He ended the day feeling like a nerve rubbed raw, and all he could do was order Chen to hit the showers, with a warning that tomorrow would be more of the same.

Why him, he thought as he clocked out and headed for the showers, and the question twisted his mouth into a scowl as he stood under the lukewarm spray. Why did it have to be his rookie? Why did he keep the timer at all? There were another half-dozen questions he could think of, but he only had the answer to one.

I'm not threatened by a clock.

It was what Isabel had told him when he first suggested getting the damn thing yanked out. She wouldn't hear otherwise and made the point that, if he removed it then with only a few years left, whoever was on the other end would think the worst had happened. Tim remembered how she'd run the pad of her pointer finger over the timer's face and smiled. I don't need this to tell me you're mine. She followed it by pointing to her wedding band. Isabel didn't care much about jewelry, had even argued against an engagement ring. Tim was more traditional, so they compromised and exchanged plain, gold wedding bands. That was years ago, though, and in the meantime, her perspective on timers had changed; by necessity, so had his. The last time she caught him looking, it caused an argument. He offered again to get it removed, but Isabel still insisted it was fine.

It wasn't, though. Within a year, she'd started using, and in the end, she disappeared in the middle of the night, taking most of her clothes and stealing his wedding band. She left his watch, and he wore it faithfully, a reminder of the promise he made to her.

A promise he kept even in her absence, until right now when he looked down.

Zeroes. A line of six zeroes, and the screen had turned green. The last time he'd looked… hell, he couldn't even remember when that was, but there had been years left on the countdown. Seeing zeroes -seeing the timer at all - was strange, and he stared at it a little too long before finishing his shower, changing, and going home.

Home was a single-story, three-bedroom house, bought in happier times. Tim still wasn't used to being the only car in the driveway, the only person inside the four walls. Sometimes it felt like too much house for one man. The majority of Isabel's personal effects had disappeared over the past two years. He'd long ago hidden or locked up anything valuable that she could steal to sell, but their wedding picture still hung on the wall, and the ugly, rectangular dining table that she'd chosen and he hated stood in the dining room. He never used it, but he couldn't bring himself to get rid of it either. Her red tea kettle sat on the left backburner of the stovetop. Isabel and Isabel and Isabel. Everywhere he looked was a reminder of Isabel, but as he stood in the center of the kitchen and waited for his leftovers to reheat in the microwave, it wasn't her face that he remembered.

Chen had tried her hardest that day. He'd give her credit for that, and only that. Not to her face, of course; nothing ruined a rookie quite like premature praise, and he figured she was already on her way out. The boldness she had shown in Grey's office evaporated throughout their shift. She fumbled frequently and looked pretty downcast when he dismissed her for the day. Tim wouldn't be surprised if she turned in her notice tomorrow.

The microwave dinged, and he reached for his plate with a sigh. Yeah, Chen quitting might be for the best. She was young, looked mid-twenties-ish. She had plenty of time to bounce back from the job, and if it meant he wouldn't see her again… well, that would be for the best too, wouldn't it? Yeah, yeah it would, Tim thought, and ignored the fact that thinking of her disappearing from his life made that tug in his gut return.

He'd just grabbed a fork and knife from the cutlery drawer when he heard a knock at the door. Tim wasn't expecting company, but a glance towards the front window showed Lopez's car in the drive. When he answered, she greeted him with a grin and a six-pack of beer.

"Mea culpa?" she offered, but he knew her well enough to guess she hadn't really come to apologize. She wanted to hear about his day. Namely, his rookie.

He let her in without a word and took the beers. "You couldn't have warned me?"

"And miss that stupid look on your face?" she teased, then mimicked it for him. Her already large eyes went extra-wide, and she pursed her lips together while breathing in sharply, a pretty decent imitation of his tense face that did not amuse him at all.

Tim popped the caps off of two bottles before responding. "I did not look like that," he said and handed her a beer.

"Sure you did," she replied. "I don't blame you though. I mean… Lucy is very pretty."

Bingo. He knew she'd come over to talk about Chen. He didn't agree, because that was a bad idea, but he didn't disagree, because that was worse and also a lie; he wasn't interested in her, but he wasn't blind. Tim decided his best course of action was to keep his mouth shut, knowing either answer would give Lopez some level of satisfaction. He kind of hoped she'd drop the subject if he didn't engage.

She took one sip of beer, then asked, "What happened when you saw Chen?"

So much for dropping it. He stared at her blankly before answering, "Why do you ask?"

"Call it curiosity. I was right beside you when she turned around." A smirk crossed her face. Lopez concealed it behind the neck of her beer bottle, then said, "You stood up first, you know."

Yeah, I was there. He couldn't really tell her everything that happened, mostly because he couldn't make sense of it himself. How could he explain that Chen was all he saw without sounding like a lunatic? How could he describe the tugging feeling without coming off as a sap?

So he told her, "Soulmates don't exist. The timers are bullshit," but it came off flat; false.

"Yes, I'm well aware of the 'official Tim Bradford position' on the matter. Now tell me what really happened."

"It wasn't what I expected."

Lopez rolled her eyes. "Well, duh. You expected nothing."

"I know." He'd heard of people having "reactions" when their timers went off, but like the rest of it, he'd written it off as nonsense. There was no way he could've guessed he'd feel how he did.

The image of his rookie in Grey's office flashed through his mind. The curves of her hips bending toward her waist; pretty mouth, piercing gaze. Fuck, he thought as his throat went dry. Even if he'd known the day and the hour, he was starting to feel like nothing would've prepared him for Lucy Chen.

The reaction wasn't a one-time deal. Tim noticed it again when he walked into roll call the following day. Chen was already at the front of the room, standing as she talked to Nolan beside the rookies' table. Once again she was all he could see, and things did not return to normal until he blinked. He hated it; it was freaky and disorienting, not to mention put him at risk of appearing unprofessional. His annoyance must have come across on his face because as he continued staring at Chen (on accident, definitely not because he wanted to keep looking or something) she returned his glare before turning her back on him.

"Are you stuck, Bradford?" Bishop's question startled him out of his thoughts. He turned to see both she and Lopez were waiting to pass. Tim let them by without a word, then kept his eyes on the floor before taking a seat at the end of their row.

He didn't look up once throughout the roll, didn't make eye contact with anyone after dismissal; he didn't even speak until he and Chen were on the road, and only then did he turn to her to say, "I've decided on your punishment." Yeah, maybe it was a little immature and vendetta-y of him to take her to task over yesterday's understandable backtalk, but he was not about to take his foot off the gas now and ease up on the tests. Besides, he wanted to see how Chen handled herself in a fight. He drove them to a convenience store a known dealer named Dorian Baxter (aka "Ghosthead") liked to frequent. Ghosthead was on parole, meaning he had to submit to a search if ordered by an officer.

And Tim could think of no one better to perform said search than his new boot, but when Chen instructed him to grab the wall, Ghosthead retorted, "Make me, Boot."

So, she did. Or rather, she tried. The situation escalated almost immediately, devolving into a fistfight, and it was only when Ghosthead landed a lucky blow to Chen's left side that Tim felt the urge to intervene, that pull towards her returning with intensity as the fight started to turn in the dealer's favor. Tim didn't break it up, but he was considering it when Chen grabbed the man by the face, head-butted him hard, and ended the fight herself.

As she cuffed the guy, she turned back to Tim, a little breathless as she said, "That was my punishment?"

He shrugged. "Wanted to see if you could handle yourself, too. It was kind of a twofer."

It happened as they were getting ready to put the dealer in the shop. A flash of blonde hair caught Tim's eye, followed by a familiar but unplaceable voice demanding that they let Ghosthead go. He turned to see a woman. Short, about Chen's height, but gaunt; hard angles where Chen was all soft curves, and he hated himself for comparing the two without thinking. He didn't recognize Isabel at first and was ashamed that it took him three full seconds to understand his missing wife was standing in front of him. Almost two years had passed, but for how changed she was, it could've easily been ten.

"Isabel?" His voice revealed his disbelief upon seeing her. "I've been trying to find you." She met his eyes then, but he could see no recognition on her face. It was like talking to a stranger. "Just to make sure you're okay. Are you okay?" He felt idiotic even asking. Of course, she was not okay. She was sickly pale, her eyes bloodshot and wild. She looked nothing like the woman he married; he couldn't even call her the ghost of his wife.

But he'd made a vow. "In sickness and in health," he'd sworn, and that was why he reached for her.

His extended hand was enough to spook Isabel. "Get off of me," she seethed.

"I just want to help," he whispered, trying and failing to keep a rein on his emotions. "Please. I just want to help."

Her stare was icy as she asked, "You want to help me?" Only when he nodded did she level her demand. "Give me all your cash."

It felt like his heart broke and sank at the same time. "What?"

"You heard me. Give me all your cash."

"I meant rehab, not-"

"I don't want rehab!"

Her yell was enough to make him withdraw his money clip. Through blurred eyes, he removed a few bills. A couple of twenties, maybe a hundred dollars total, that Isabel quickly snatched before running away. He watched her go, feeling powerless. Helpless.

Only then did he remember Chen.

Tim turned to see his rookie was watching him intently. For a moment, he'd forgotten she was even there. By her expression, he confirmed she saw it all. Probably heard it all, too. Nothing like a little public humiliation to compound a heartbreak.

"Let him go," he ordered. Thankfully, she didn't argue, releasing Ghosthead before they returned to the shop.

"What the hell just happened?"

Was she talking about the drug dealer? Or Isabel? Tim wasn't sure, and he didn't ask. He replied softly, "That was my wife." He wondered how she'd take that particular revelation. Would she snark at him? Criticize him for not apprehending her? She'd be within her rights to report him for releasing Ghosthead just because Isabel asked.

What he didn't expect was the answer he got, which was, "I won't tell anyone."

He knew he should feel grateful, but he didn't. Tim only felt shame. Then, anger followed it.

"You're damn right you won't," he replied.

Bishop calling for backup was the excuse he needed to compartmentalize further, to put the shock of seeing Isabel away for now. He knew it probably wasn't healthy, but he had no choice. Tim shoved it down, down, and down until the pain couldn't touch him. Until he felt nothing.

Nothing, except for Lucy's gaze on his profile. From his periphery, he could see she was watching him cautiously. It probably freaked her out to see him edge towards a breakdown, only to pull back so quickly.

"You're staring," he commented, and she looked away.

"Sorry."

"Got something to say, Boot?"

"No, sir."

"You sure about that?"

"I just… I just didn't know you were married."

That's right. She wouldn't have known that; she didn't know him from Adam, actually, and he hadn't mentioned it. "Didn't think it was your business."

"It's not."

"But you feel entitled to know because, why exactly? Because of the timers? Is that it?" He wondered if she thought that was hypocritical of him; cynical enough to not believe in timers, but sentimental enough to promise to love a woman for the rest of his life? At a glance, it felt hypocritical, even to him.

"No, sir. I don't feel entitled to anything. I just thought things would be different than they are. Once my timer went off, I mean." From the corner of his eye, he caught how she looked down at her wrist, noticed how she bit her lip as she looked over her own set of zeroes. "I had wanted that for most of my life."

Her answer floored him. Tim detected emotion in her confession, but she held it back, and the moment passed before he could identify it. Was it want, perhaps? Like how he felt when he first saw her? To an extent, he could empathize. This wasn't how he wanted it to go for either of them. He had (foolishly, as it turned out) hoped for a polite first meeting followed by a clean break. Instead, they'd had a messy introduction, and he'd gotten the promise and responsibility of her presence in his life for at least a year, if not longer.

"I thought things would be different, too," he admitted, and he didn't just mean with the timers. He meant… well, he meant just about everything, but they were on the job. Neither of them could lean into that right now. He cleared his throat and spoke again. "Focus up, Boot. Need you sharp for this call." Then, more for her sake than his own, Tim added, "But we will talk about this later. I promise."

It was a shootout. Naturally, it was a fucking shootout.

Tim was a good shot. Chen was no slouch with a weapon, either, but neither of them succeeded in disarming the shooter before a lucky strike shattered Tim's window. The bullet entered his side like a white-hot knife, and he cursed as he fell to the ground, his hand going to the wound. Seconds later, Chen was at his side, and she hooked her wrists beneath his armpits before dragging him to safety.

"Don't worry about me, shoot back!" he ordered as she continued to crouch over him. By then, Bishop and Nolan had arrived. Another thirty seconds and Lopez and West joined the chase. The sound of gunshots grew more and more distant. Tim guessed the fight was moving away, but it was hard to hear much over his own shallow breathing; hard to make sense of anything over the pain and adrenaline.

"Boot, don't worry about me," he repeated, his voice straining to stay even. "Go get him. I'll be fine."

She didn't move.

"That's an order."

Finally, Chen responded. "I know it is." She covered his hands with hers, carefully pressing down as he hissed. Together, they tried to stem the bleeding. "I'll go once the ambulance arrives, but for now, I'm right where I need to be."

He didn't ask again. It meant something that she insisted on staying, but he didn't know what, and a lump formed in his throat as he kept his gaze trained on her face. He could tell she was scared, but she was determined to not let it show. Her poker face was sort of shit, though. The way her lips trembled gave her away. Tim was pretty sure he'd live, but he was losing blood, and it made the corners of his vision go a little fuzzy. All he could see was Chen. Her face; the way her forehead creased with concern. A few strands of her hair had come loose from where she'd rolled it into a knot on the back of her head, falling around her cheeks in soft curls. Her eyes looked warm, golden as she held her palms over the hole beneath his ribs.

Fuck. He was in trouble, wasn't he? He was in trouble, and not just from a bullet wound.

Chen didn't step aside until the ambulance came, and then it was a flurry of hands and shouted orders as the medics lifted him onto the gurney and wheeled him onboard. It was stupid of him -soft of him- but as the ambulance doors closed, Tim could only think one thing.

Amber. Amber in the right light.

A/N: Hi again! As promised, here's part two after (way, way after :P sorry) the summer. Just a few things I wanted to mention real quick: This is Tim's side of "Inevitable", the Chenford soulmate TiMER AU I published last year. The stories parallel each other, but you don't need to read part one to read this since they're both retellings of the same story from different perspectives. Also, when I started this AU verse last year, we knew way less about Tim's background than we do now. Consequently, you won't be seeing Tim's sister or niece this time around, and a certain canon character death is going to be aggressively ignored. :)

With "Inevitable", I updated weekly on Ao3 and posted the entire finished work to FF when it was done. This time around, I'll be posting to both sites every two weeks. Weekly updates just aren't feasible for me right now. If for some reason I'm going to miss an update, I'll make a post on my tumblr, username meadow-ward.

I also post previews, pictures references, things like that in the tumblr tag "chenford timer AU", and I'm almost always yelling about Eric Winter and Melissa O'Neil, so come find me over there if that sounds like fun to you!