Even though things were somewhat resolved, Tim still felt uneasy. Uneasy, and sort of shitty. He was unsuccessful in shaking free of either feeling, with both sensations persisting as he headed home. He drove in silence, mentally picking apart every word of his conversation with Lucy. Now that everything was out in the open -now that he had more context for her actions- he saw starkly how he'd let her down. He himself hadn't ever seriously entertained the thought of removing his timer. Sure, he had suggested it a few times in consideration of Isabel, but he'd never gotten as close as Lucy had that night; not so close that he'd gone to the doctor and prepared to go through with the procedure. That she had said a lot. A lot about how hurt she'd been, and how he had failed her. Here was a thing that mattered to Lucy, and she'd been moments away from getting it ripped out. And why? All because he couldn't be honest with her? He could've saved her (and, incidentally, himself) a lot of grief that night if he'd just been truthful and clear from the start.

There was also something else brewing beneath all this fucking angst. Something new and strong, but not yet nameable. Another connection and level of care had formed between them tonight, and if Tim had learned anything since they met, he guessed it would only get stronger. What it was, he wasn't sure, but he knew what it wasn't, and that distinction was significant to him.

Tim knew what it was like to fall in love, knew what it was like to be in love. This wasn't that. This -whatever the nameless feeling was- was nothing like it. It veered too much and was too inconsistent to be love, wide where love had been deep and obscuring his senses when before he'd always managed to keep a handle on his wits. The idea that it could be love was ridiculous to him, and he actually laughed aloud alone in his truck like a damn madman. Love? Please. So far, he and Lucy were barely friends, but there was no denying that, in some capacity, they mattered to one another.

Just like Lucy had said they would.

No, she hadn't said exactly that, but how else was he supposed to take "you're going to be important to me"? Obviously, that was becoming true for him, however slowly. Maybe important wasn't where their relationship had landed yet, but he'd for weeks now known there was something. It stood to reason that "important" was on its way, that "important" could just be a matter of time.

Important, sure, he said to himself, but not love. Never, ever love.

His musings were interrupted by the buzz of his phone. A glance down at the screen showed Lopez's name. At some point, she'd changed her contact photo to the selfie of them leaving the hospital. He rolled his eyes before pressing the green button. "Hey, Lopez."

"Hey, how is Chen?" It surprised Tim (but maybe it shouldn't have) that her voice held genuine concern.

"She's fine." He didn't tell her why she'd been at the urgent care, how close she'd gotten to removing her timer. For one thing, it didn't strike him as relevant; it also wasn't his business to share. If Chen wanted Lopez to know, she could tell her herself. "You'll be happy to know we talked."

"About?"

"About things," he answered vaguely. Probably too much to reveal in a single phone call, and like with the nature of her doctor's visit, Tim hesitated to say more. Regardless of his friendship with Lopez, there were certain topics he didn't feel comfortable broaching. What purpose would it serve informing her that he'd essentially had a miniature breakdown in front of the doctor's office? What good would it do to reveal he'd stopped just short of salivating over the way her hips swayed as Lucy walked to the couch, and he certainly wasn't going to tell her that he'd been in the middle of having a love/not love conversation with himself when she called. Angela would have a fucking field day with that. Tim did reveal, "She feels heat when I touch her. That's how the timers, the bond or whatever, affects her."

He could hear a grin in Lopez's voice as she said, "So you're saying it's real?"

"I'm saying it might not be as fake as I thought it was." Only might not? He was pretty damn positive they weren't, and that was shaking him up in ways he could barely verbalize.

His hesitation made Lopez curious. "What's going on?" she asked.

"It's just… hypothetically, let's say soulmates are real. Hypothetically. If they are, then how come I loved Isabel? If they're real, how would someone who wasn't my soulmate be able to fill that space?"

"Well, you can love more than one person," Angela replied sensibly. "Take Bishop and me, for example. You love us, right? Adore us, even?"

"I think I tolerate you, at best."

"Oh, how sweet."

"And anyway, that's not the same," Tim continued. "What I felt for Isabel isn't how I feel about you or Bishop."

There was a brief pause before Lopez whispered, "You realize you're making that past tense, right?"

"What?"

"When you talked about Isabel. You said you loved her. Loved, like formerly. Has something changed, Bradford?"

His gaze lowered, landing on his left hand as it rested against his leg. He took note of his naked ring finger, his wedding band long gone; stolen by his wife, most likely sold to buy God-knows-what. "Hard to love someone who isn't here, isn't it? Someone who chose to leave?" Even to his own ears, the reply sounded cold and distant, and for a moment, Angela did not speak. Her silence allowed Tim to rest in the feelings his answer had stirred up. He had never before said aloud that maybe he didn't love Isabel anymore; it was possible he didn't realize it until that moment, until the second the words were leaving his mouth… but on closer examination, Tim knew that, while he still held onto a certain kind of affection for her, it was now more out of loyalty than anything else. Til death do us part and all that. As for being in love with her, that was gone. That had vanished, and in its place was… nothing. A vacuum.

"Look," Angela began eventually, "I don't know what to tell you about soulmates, man. It's an argument we've had a dozen times if we've had it once. Either you believe, or you don't. But if, 'hypothetically,' soulmates are real… that doesn't mean that what you once felt for someone else was fake. Okay?"

"Okay."

Another pause followed before Lopez whispered, "You know… you're kind of my best friend."

"Really? How sad for you."

"Shut up." Then she pivoted. "Do you remember what you did for me a few years back? When you helped me get through my timer shit?" She waited for him to reply. When he didn't, Lopez said, "You forgot, didn't you?"

He hadn't forgotten, but now that she'd mentioned it, Tim realized he only remembered it vaguely. A night out, a long conversation over two drinks each. Lopez's occasional complaint about the length of her countdown, and his awkward attempts to console her. "I didn't forget. I guess I didn't think I said anything important enough that you'd hang onto it this long."

"It was important to me." She took a breath. "And I still think that, no matter what you say now, there's a part of you that believes in them. Why else would you have helped me back then? And why else would you be so conflicted now?"

To that, he had no answer.

The roundup was usually a highlight for Tim, a bright spot on the calendar after the grind of breaking in a new boot. The excitement for the game normally occupied the majority of his focus in the days leading up to it, but not this time. In fact, in light of everything, he'd been distracted and didn't give the competition much thought until the day arrived. Luckily, he'd long ago initiated his plan and had for months been ingratiating himself to a dispatch worker named Nell. His "ace in the hole," so to speak -a present for the dispatcher- was wrapped and ready. After a brief stop at the locker room so Tim could grab the package, he led the way to the room where dispatch worked and knocked twice. Not totally necessary, that; the door was open."Hey, Nell."

At her name, the dispatcher he'd been swaying to his side for the past few months looked back and grinned upon seeing him. "Hey," she said, swiveling her chair around to face him.

"Look at you. You look amazing. You're glowing. What's your secret?" Yeah, so he was leaning a little too hard on the flattery, but what else could he do? The day of the game was no time to be subtle.

"Oh," Nell said with a giggle. "I hiked Malibu Creek yesterday. You should try it sometime."

He handed her the wrapped gift. "Listen, I saw this at the bookstore and thought of you." She tore off the paper, revealing a book with a mountain on the cover.

"Kilimanjaro!" she squealed. "How did you know I want to go someday?"

"I'm good at finding things out, Nell," he replied and ignored the huff at his back. Unspoken or not, Chen was telegraphing her displeasure loud and clear. "You know we have the roundup today, right? Think you could help me out?" Tim didn't need to spell out his request any further than that. Nell was a smart woman. He trusted her to pick up on what he was saying.

She blinked twice, stammering, "But… but that would be favoritism?"

Technically yes, he thought, and replied with confidence, "But I am your favorite." When punctuated by one winning smile, Nell became putty in his hand, if the way she blushed was confirmation. "Come on. Do it for me?" She required no more coaxing after that. Team Bradford was officially (unofficially) up to three members, and with his strategy in action, they departed.

Unfortunately, Nell did not come through the way Tim hoped she would. Lopez and West were on the board before he and Lucy could even leave the fucking building, then half of the morning passed without a quality call. Not a single arrest had been added to their score by eleven. Tim's frustration peaked when Chen received a text on her personal phone. A second later, she informed him that Bishop (who that morning had insisted she wasn't playing) and Nolan had gotten their first arrest. Vandalism and felony assault, which put the scores at twenty-one for Lopez, seven for Bishop, and zero for him.

"Call Nell," he ordered. "Put her on speaker." He waited to hear her voice before saying, "Hey, Nell, it's me." His tone was strained with false cheer. "You haven't forgotten about me, have you?"

"Oh, Bradford, of course I haven't," Nell replied before admitting, "We've been just a little slow… oh… oh wait! We just got a 9-1-1 call. DUI hit-and-run, teenage pedestrian severely injured. Black 528i seen heading eastbound on Melrose."

"Perfect. Attach us to that, please," Tim said, then added, "Oh and Nell? You're the best."

The call had barely ended when Lucy dropped the phone into her lap. It slid to the floorboard, landing with a thud beside her feet. She made no move to retrieve it. "What is going on with you today?" he asked.

"Nothing."

Yeah, right. "You can tell me the truth, or you can jog behind the shop." It was an empty threat, one she probably recognized as having no basis. If he made her get out, that would slow them down; if they slowed down, they would lose, and he refused to lose.

"It's nothing I can't handle, sir," she replied, but Tim noticed her voice sounded dull. "Let's just go get this guy."

He was still suspicious of her lack of enthusiasm, her evident disdain for his methods, but he decided to wait until later to press the issue. "Fine. Keep your eyes peeled for our DUI."

They spotted their suspect speeding down Melrose. After a brief chase and a freak (and fucking freaky) accident involving a gatepost, they scored their first arrest. Throughout, Lucy was tense and uncertain, and she even second-guessed him when he insisted the paramedics complete a blood draw before taking their suspect to the hospital for treatment. "So this has nothing to do with the seven points?"

"Criminals get hurt all the time, Chen. He doesn't get special treatment for an injury that's his own damn fault. Do you understand?" Tim waited until she nodded to order her to call in their points, and noted with a twinge the way her face fell as she peeled off her bloodied gloves before stepping away.

Lucy was quiet as they returned to their beat. Quiet before lunch, quiet after. He noticed, though, that she brightened around her friends, all the excitement she held back coming out in their break before she returned to the shop and was subdued once more.

His hand tightened around the steering wheel, remembering her ease around West and Nolan. No, it wasn't that he was expecting that kind of camaraderie between them; it wouldn't be appropriate, for one thing, and like he'd thought before, they were just barely friends, but this? Icing him out? Was she still mad about the DUI?

"Do I have to worry about your attitude affecting our chances," he asked.

"No, sir," Lucy replied automatically with a subtle shake of her head. "I'm fine."

"You understand, right? About earlier with the DUI? That wasn't about points. It was about making sure he sees the inside of a cell. It's important to maintain perspective on the job."

Tim caught the way she pursed her lips into a firm line before she replied, "To be honest, sir, I wasn't thinking about the driver."

You weren't? Well, in that case, "I wish you'd just tell me," he said and almost cringed. Why did that sound so close to a whine?

"Really?"

He nodded.

"It's pretty obvious that Nell has a crush on you," she said, "and we're using that to win a game. Feels sort of low to me."

"Nell's just doing me a favor."

"Yeah, because she likes you."

"It's not like that," he insisted, and though Lucy belabored the point, he ignored her.

She was right. Naturally, Lucy was right, because the universe had both a sense of humor and a personal fucking vendetta against him. Just a few minutes after Tim made an ass of himself to Lucy by insinuating her warnings were motivated by jealousy, he asked Nell to stay late to help their team win. She agreed on one condition: he had to join her for a drink.

Damn it. He hadn't meant for that to happen. Sure, he'd been nice to Nell, and sometimes that niceness bordered on flirtation, but he'd mistakenly thought it was harmless. Besides, gossip around the station being how it was, he would've been surprised if she hadn't heard about his wife or his timer, if not both… but he was in the thick of it now, and she was waiting for an answer. "Deal," he agreed before excusing himself, knowing he would have to cope with the fallout later.

He made it only a few steps before coming upon Lucy. She'd waited for him in the hall and spoke first.

"Nell seems nice," she said, and he detected a good amount of sarcasm lacing her words.

"I'm not talking about this anymore, Chen," he retorted and tried to move past her. She caught him by the arm, her fingers firm as they gripped his bicep.

"Does she know you're married? Because I don't think she'd be broadcasting her attraction to you the way she is if she knew. You are a married man flirting with a well-meaning woman to get better calls during a game of debatable ethics, and for what? A free beer? Bragging rights?"

"What's your point, Boot?"

"My point? My point is you've taught me better than this. You're cunning on the job, but you're not conniving. What you're doing to Nell isn't strategic; it's cruel." Lucy dropped his arm. "I don't know. I guess I didn't expect this kind of thing from you."

Tim liked to think he was starting to get a better bead on Lucy's feelings (aside from that whole fiasco earlier where he'd made the mistake of calling her jealous of Nell. He'd write that off as a fluke.). She was easy to read, that boot of his, given that she was the definition of an open book. She couldn't obscure a damn thing.

Lucy wasn't jealous. It was worse; it was so much fucking worse. She was disappointed in him.

I didn't expect this kind of thing from you, she had told him, and those words were enough to leave him feeling convicted. It would take more than a few free beers to forget the sadness in her eyes, the defeat in her tone.

Team Bradford wins at any cost. How true that had been in every year before this one. Now, with her feelings about him uncertain and her respect for him in question, he wondered if it was too high a price. This fucking woman, with her hopeful eyes and her frown and her you've taught me better than this had managed to make him soft, and damn it, he let her. He couldn't even be mad about it.

Having privately resigned himself to a loss for the first time in… well, ever, Tim was surprised to learn he and Chen had managed to pull out a win following some math that Angela referred to as "complicated". Lucy looked surprised too, but her shock seemed faked; feigned. He'd long suspected that Lopez and Bishop threw the game to him every year. This just confirmed it, which turned out to be kind of a bummer. He hadn't needed to be so conniving, as Lucy had (accurately or not) accused him of being. He had just taken a step in her direction when a familiar face entered his field of vision. Nell had joined their crew at the food truck circle, and she expected him to make good on their deal. He fought a grimace as he prepared to come clean.

"Look, Nell," he began awkwardly; there really was no easy way to say it. "I should probably tell you that I'm married."

"You're married," she repeated uncertainly, visibly stunned.

Yep, and it gets worse. "I mean, we're separated." She appeared relieved by that clarification, but it didn't last. "And my rookie is my… well, supposedly she's my soulmate. That's what the timers said, anyways." He hadn't planned on telling Nell about Chen, but it felt like the right thing to do in the interest of total honesty.

She scowled. "So you're married, and you have a soulmate?"

He nodded. "It's all pretty complicated," he admitted, "but I'd still like to buy you that drink, if you want. As thanks." Tim tried to sound the right mix of hopeful and non-commital, but his efforts were in vain. He could tell by her face that his long-overdue honesty was not appreciated.

Through a sharp, gritted smile, Nell told him shortly, "I don't do 'complicated', but thanks for the book." Then, she walked off without another word or a look back. It wasn't the worst way the conversation could have gone, but he'd hoped it would've gone better. No matter his motives, he liked Nell, but there was no denying her anger was well-placed.

Left alone, Tim scanned the lot, eventually spotting Lucy and Lopez about thirty feet away. The pair were mid-conversation. Something Lucy said had pleased Angela because she pulled the other into a quick hug that made their beers slosh down the sides of their cups. He walked towards the two of them just as Lopez broke the embrace off, and she greeted him with a cheer.

"Oh, speak of the handsome devil!"

Tim faked a critical frown. "How many have you had?"

"This is my first. You know this is just my personality, Bradford. Although," she paused and drained the remainder of her drink before handing him her empty cup. "If you'll excuse me, I need a refill."

He chuckled as he watched her go. "She is a mess." Then, he turned to Lucy, tapping his fingers against the plastic cup as he asked, "Are you still mad at me?"

"I already told you I wasn't mad at you, Bradford," she replied.

"Tim. We're off work. You can call me Tim now."

A little smirk lifted the corner of her lips. "I already told you I wasn't mad at you, Tim. I was just disappointed."

Yeah, he'd guessed as much. "Would you be less disappointed if I told you I came clean to Nell?" That smirk of hers widened, becoming a smile that spread across her face. She looked quite pleased with herself. "Yeah. I thought so."

"What did you tell her?"

"The truth. That I'm married, but," he looked at her pointedly, wondering if she'd guess his meaning when he said, "it's complicated."

"And did you get your drink?"

"No. Surprisingly enough, she didn't want to get a drink with a married man."

"Well, I can't say I blame her," Lucy replied, a comment that didn't make him feel better until she followed it with, "but also, her loss."

"Her loss?"

"You see, I have no such qualms."

"You also already have a drink."

She responded to that by chugging her beer quickly before placing her empty cup in Tim's other hand. He almost laughed before replying, "You're as bad as Lopez," and briefly, errantly thought that between the two of them, his boot and his best friend, he would never be bored.

Lucy got him his drink, briefly holding it hostage while making him promise to never use his "wiles" (her word, not his) in the roundup again. As she passed him his cup, a worried look crossed her face. She touched his arm, then his wrist before revealing the heat she'd told him about just the night before had disappeared. He was almost upset for her sake, but she didn't seem alarmed that it had gone and even jested that it'd probably disappeared because he pissed her off enough to make it stop. Tim tried to act okay with this new development, but as they returned to their group, he privately pondered it. So she didn't feel the heat anymore; that telltale sign of soulmates had faded for her. Was that a good thing? Was it bad? He remembered Wrigley's theory. Maybe it meant she didn't need it anymore. So what did it mean then that his own reactions had persisted? He continued thinking about it as the group swapped stories about the day's arrests. Halfway through Nolan's tale of his and Bishop's single point, Tim stood to get a refill. Lopez joined him, and as they walked towards one of the food trucks, she threw her arm around his neck, causing him to stumble slightly as she ungracefully yanked him down to her level.

"You're the best, man. You know that?" How she was this buzzed off of only two beers, Tim would never know. He was already devising a plan to cut her off for the night, but what she said next stopped his scheming in its tracks. "So, not that it matters, but Lucy has my seal of approval. I like your girl a lot."

He gave her a look. "She's not my girl, Lopez." Then (and only because he was mildly curious), he asked, "What do you mean by 'approval'? What did you do?"

She clicked her tongue once and shook her head with a laugh. "So, I… I kinda came down on her in the locker room. We were talking it out earlier when you came up to us."

"You came down on her? Why?"

"Doesn't matter. Look," she clapped one hand to his shoulder (Lopez always got a little touchy when she was a couple of drinks deep), "I know you think this story is over or whatever, but I don't."

Maybe it was the beer making his thoughts fuzzy, but Tim couldn't make out her meaning. Story? What story? "What are you saying, Lopez?"

She winked at him. Yep, Lopez was tipsy, for sure, but sober or not, her reply left him speechless. "I think I'm saying strap in, Bradford. You and Chen? This ride you guys are on is just getting started."