I think I'm saying strap in, Bradford.
How was he supposed to take that? Was it advice? A warning? Tim wasn't sure, but Lopez's words played and replayed in his brain as the night went on. Their little group remained at the food truck circle for hours, long enough that the effect of two beers in rapid succession wore off of Angela's demeanor. A relief for him, although he kept an eye on her for the rest of the night. Tim also kept a bead on Lucy, less because he was worried about her drinking to excess and more because… well, because that was sort of what he did lately. On the job, his brain was always half on her; where she was standing, what she was doing. He felt like he orbited her in some ways, an effect that was only magnified when he considered the whole supposed "soulmate" aspect of things.
Midway through the night, Lucy's phone rang. Tim was in the middle of speaking to their group when she rose to answer, but he tried to surreptitiously keep her in his line of sight. She didn't go far, staying nearby and forgoing answering in order to text a reply. Just as he finished recounting the story of their largest arrest of the day, Lucy looked up from her phone. She met his eyes and smiled on instinct, masking it a moment later before anyone else could see and quickly averting her gaze, letting it fall to the concrete as she returned to her seat. She avoided meeting his eyes for the rest of the night, and he felt secretly smug at the entire exchange, at how She'd looked at him with fondness in her eyes, a small smile like a whisper on her perfect, pretty mouth.
So the heat had disappeared for Chen. So what? It was obvious that the (absolutely platonic) feelings between them -new, burgeoning, and so far, nameless- remained.
He had to hand it to her. Chen was turning out to be a pretty solid officer. Sure, she still had a long, long way to go and a lot to learn in the months before she earned P2 status, but at least Tim was not concerned about her ability to have his back. She was smart, resourceful, and when it came down to it, a damn good shot. That was peace of mind he was rarely afforded this early in any rookie's probationary year. She wasn't bad company during shifts, either. They still kept chatter to a minimum, but a week went by, and he slowly saw more of her personality. What he learned alternated between amusing, annoying, and intriguing him.
Lucy liked bad puns. No, "bad" was too narrow a word; she liked groan-worthy puns. Liked them, and knew quite a few herself, to his dismay and (secretly) his delight. She apparently had a prank-y streak that he'd be sure to be on his guard against. He discovered she nursed a little crush on that Kylo Ren person from the incredibly inferior Star Wars sequels. Tim personally didn't see how that Driver guy was so appealing, but he didn't dare to say that aloud; the last thing he wanted was to be accused of being jealous or something else equally ridiculous. She followed way too many Instagram accounts that posted pictures of puppies, and he witnessed her squandering many a coffee break by spending it taking Buzzfeed quizzes. He later learned Lucy had been a member of her school's show choir during her senior year and was, to his surprise, a pretty talented singer. As she studied her rook book during a brief moment of downtime, Lucy began to hum under her breath without realizing it. She had a nice voice. Pretty; perfect for soft songs like lullabies. It was kind of nice hearing the pleasant, easy way her voice rose and fell naturally over all kinds of melodies, some simple, some intricate. Occasionally, Tim recognized the things she sang under her breath. The chorus of a pop tune here, a Motown hit there. Once, she hummed a verse that made his breath catch in his chest, her delicate voice wrapping around a melody he hadn't heard in years. It was a song he'd learned sitting next to his mother's rickety old hi-fi table, a lone piano crackling through the ancient brown and black speakers as Ella Fitzgerald sang along. When she realized with a blush that she'd been humming, Lucy murmured an apology.
Don't stop, Tim thought, but did not say.
Also (and fuck, even thinking it made him feel like a schmuck)… Lucy wasn't terrible to look at. Not that he did so very frequently or with any sort of intent behind it. More often that not, it happened accidentally. Sometimes she'd gesture with her hand while speaking, and it would stir the air enough that he'd catch the subtle, flowery scent of her perfume. Twice it had made Tim turn his head towards her without meaning to. He'd also started noticing that wispy strands of her hair would shake loose from the knot at the back of her neck throughout the day, and if she didn't tuck them back into place they would frame her face, brushing against her jawline and collar in a way that drew his eye to those areas. Other times, their departures after the end of their shift would overlap enough that Tim would catch glimpses of Lucy in plainclothes as she walked towards her car. He didn't know enough about women's fashion to pinpoint her style, but whatever it was, it worked well on her. Long skirts that swished dramatically with her steps, tight jeans that hugged every last curve of her legs and kept no secrets. She always wore her hair down and free after work, leaving it flowing behind her in waves that looked and probably felt like strands of silk.
Not that he was looking, though. Not often, not on purpose, and certainly not now, as he monitored her first time driving the shop.
"Eyes on the road, Boot," he ordered, although her stare had not once strayed from the road in front of them. Even so, Tim could tell she was distracted, sensed some tension in the way she carried herself currently that couldn't all be nerves.
"Something on your mind?" he asked.
Lucy shook her head curtly. "No, sir."
He'd never been less convinced by a "no, sir", but did not press it, even though that piqued look didn't leave her face for hours. It faded only after she rolled the shop while pursuing a reckless driver when the tense expression was replaced totally by embarrassment. He radioed for assistance, and by the time EMTs had gotten them free and declared them unhurt, Tim was dizzy and cranky. Another unit picked them up and dropped them off at the station, where he promptly ordered Chen to the drunk tank. For the "achievement" of rolling the shop on her first day behind the wheel, she'd earned herself a few hours of deep cleaning. He could've pushed to get back out there, but Tim had been in wrecks before. Despite the safety harnesses, and despite being cleared by EMTs on the scene, they were both going to be so damn sore tomorrow. At least if she was mopping, she was less likely to hurt herself any further.
Lucy had been scrubbing for an hour when he knocked on the open door, his nose wrinkling as the still-present stench of vomit hit him. "Shift ends in thirty and you still got paperwork," Tim began. "You about done?"
She nodded before leaning against the mop handle. "Yes, sir."
"Good. Are you hurt?" He'd kept an eye on her as the medics looked her over, checking for injuries, and noted that she'd winced a bit during some of their handling.
"Just a little sore," she said, forcing a smile before asking, "You?"
He shrugged. "Been through worse. See to that paperwork, then go get rested up for tomorrow, ok?" He said no more beyond that, trusting her to listen to his advice as he walked away.
As it turned out, Tim's trust had been poorly placed. It wasn't like he'd made some big ask of her. Go home, he'd said. Go rest. Easy enough instructions to follow, right? During his own probation, he would've contemplated several crimes for his TO to tell him to take a nap when he was coming up. God, Chen had it so fucking cushy with him, and she didn't even know or appreciate it.
"Go get rested up for tomorrow", he'd said, but had she listened? No; no, of course, she didn't. Chen went out. Not just out, either. Out on a date, a revelation that made his ears ring for a second or two when he heard it. It left him reeling. It left him livid.
… Not that he cared whether she dated, and not that he thought she shouldn't have been dating (even though there were plenty of arguments against starting up a relationship in her rookie year, and he was currently entertaining just about all of them). Dating itself wasn't that surprising. Lucy was young and single; witty, kind, and (might as well just admit it) beautiful in a way Tim found both disarming and maybe a little intimidating. It made sense that she would want to date, now that she knew the soulmate she'd been waiting for was married. Tim wasn't bothered in that regard. Not bothered at all, no way… but he'd been explicit in his advice- no, in his order- that she should go home after work and take it easy. Yeah, okay, technically how much his say-so mattered began and ended with the station, and if he took a beat to breathe he'd realize he really had no right to be irritated, but whatever. He was, and it soured his mood enough that Lopez brought it up after Grey dismissed the units to their assignments, approaching Tim while he waited for Chen to bring the shop around.
"What's got you looking all cranky?" Lopez asked. "Did CVS stop carrying your hair gel again?"
"Funny." He glanced to his left, then right before revealing in a low whisper, "Chen went on a date last night."
"Oh, really?" Her reaction was unexpected. In fact, she seemed almost giddy over this news. "That doesn't surprise me. She should date. She's hot."
"Don't call my Boot hot."
"Pretty. Whatever." Lopez grinned, cocking her head to the side as she continued. "Let me guess: you're upset because you're jealous?"
Tim scoffed, denying it instantly. "What? N-no. Not even." He stammered, finding the notion laughable. Ludicrous. "I'm upset because I told her to go home and rest up after rolling our shop yesterday, and instead she went out with some jock-brained, pretty boy friend of West's." Okay, so that wasn't a totally fair assessment on his part. He knew nothing about the man Lucy had gone out with. He hadn't even learned his name, and figuring that the guy was a friend of West's was more assumption than confirmed at this point, something Tim had gathered by the way West had interrupted what was a nice conversation to ask how her date had gone the night before. He hadn't been able to ask about it beyond "Date? What date?" as the roll call started right after, and he'd only half-listened while Grey handed out assignments. Already, Tim disliked the guy, and he reserved that right. Innocent until proven guilty didn't apply here, and he wouldn't be convinced otherwise.
But jealous? No way.
"Yeah, you don't sound jealous at all," Lopez joked before clapping her hand to his shoulder and walking away, leaving him to stew alone for a minute or two before Lucy returned.
"Ready to roll?" she asked, and then stiffened as she noticed his stormy expression. "Sir?"
He snatched the keys out of her hand, the action making her yelp a little. "Sorry," he muttered dumbly, then jerked his head toward the shop. "Let's go. I'm driving."
During the roll call, Grey had assigned them to act on a search warrant for a man named LeShawn Halvorsen. Halvorsen had priors, was suspected of stealing a bunch of cash and jewelry. Tim should've kept his mind on the task, should've prepped Lucy for what was ahead. He should've reviewed protocols, discussed the DEAR method…
… But all he could think of was her fucking date, and a hundred questions sprang to mind without him having to try very hard. Things like, who was this guy? Where did he work? Did he have a record? Date of birth and social security number? The standard stuff, but all he managed to say to Lucy was an awkward, stilted, "So… a date."
For a second, she didn't answer. "Yes," was how she responded after a brief pause.
He shrugged, clenching the steering wheel tighter, deferred strain from trying and failing to appear unbothered. "Didn't know you were dating, I guess." Not that he thought she shouldn't… but not that he thought she should, either. Tim had concerns, and being that they were grounded in personal and professional experience, felt entitled to them. It wasn't that he didn't trust Lucy to make good choices. He didn't trust this so far faceless, nameless dudebro. He didn't trust whatever a stranger with a nice smile might do, and was sure that was where his hesitation came from.
"You didn't ask, sir." She emphasized the sir, and with a glance telegraphed that she was reminding him of their boundary, enforcing it where he had so far failed to. Reminding him that he had no right to ask further.
Tim backed down reluctantly. "Yeah, okay," he conceded, saying no more.
For now, at least. It was a long shift, and he wanted to know exactly who West had set her up with that had the other rookie so excited that morning.
LeShawn Halvorsen's apartment was grody. That didn't bother Tim so much; it wasn't like they were posting up for any length of time. What did get him to see red was a mumbled comment from the man they were searching as he sat handcuffed, leering at Chen as she looked for his stash of cash and stolen items.
"Damn, lady cop," LeShawn said with a sneer, licking his lips as she bent down to rummage through a basket. "You can search my apartment all day."
Lucy didn't hear him say it, nor had she noticed the way his stare was trained on her ass. Unfortunately for LeShawn, Tim had. He smacked LeShawn on the back of his head, jerking him to his feet and forcing him to stand. "Face the fucking wall," he seethed, turning LeShawn around so Chen was safe from further objectification by this fucking tool. "You need to learn some respect," he warned before turning back towards Lucy. "Saw a box of sex toys in the master bedroom," he said, directing her to continue her search there. When her face contorted into a look of disgust, Tim almost laughed. He didn't though, only adding, "You might want to glove up."
Once she was out of sight, Tim continued searching, and before long he located the stash in the garbage can. The crook had hidden it at the bottom of the can, underneath a full bag of trash. "Well, look at that," he said to LeShawn as he dumped the items onto the table. He wasn't an expert, but between the cash and the stolen items (mostly watches and jewelry), there was probably close to thirty thousand dollars on the table. "I hope it was worth it, LeShawn. I don't see your parole officer taking kindly to this."
Lucy walked out a few minutes after that, looking a little green around the gills. He wondered if she'd get sick, but she pulled through without incident after taking a second to compose herself. It was a good thing she did, too. They needed to get LeShawn and his stash of stolen goods back to the station, and after they got him processed they returned to their beat. Not long after, an all-units call came over the radio. Jeremy Hawke was on the lam. Their orders from the chief himself were clear; Hawke needed to be brought in, quickly and quietly.
Tim felt Lucy's gaze on his face as he absorbed the news, disbelief stunning him into a momentary silence. Hawke? The Hawke? The same one he'd spent a summer with; the one he'd watched hold his ground in a shootout, using nothing more than the curb as cover? "I can't believe we're hunting Jeremy Hawke," he breathed as he pulled the shop up to an RV dispatch had pinged for Hawke's cell phone. The ping turned out to be a bust. Hawke had planted the phone on a stranger's RV, knowing the LAPD would trace it. Knowing it would waste their resources and buy him time.
"He's thinking like a criminal," Lucy noted.
"Worse," Tim said grimly as they got back in the shop. "Like a criminal cop."
"Are you okay?" she asked.
No. No, he wasn't okay. Hawke was… all right, so he was a bit of a loose canon; a gunslinger. He represented an old-school method of police work that was increasingly controversial. Still, even if his methods were questionable, for him to break bad like that was kind of shocking. There must have been more to the story. There has to be, Tim thought, but when word came through the radio that Hawke had dragged his son into it, any sympathy Tim held for his former partner withered.
"That motherfucker," he muttered through gritted teeth as they sped towards the interception point. It wasn't enough to endanger himself; he brought his kid into it, too? Motherfucker was too nice a term for the lowlife Hawke was revealing himself to be. Despite orders that put just about every available officer on the case, Hawke managed to elude them all, and the chase lead them to the nearby mall. It was there that Hawke abandoned his son, cuffing him to a clothing rack before making a second break for it without his kid in tow. Their unit convened with the others, and after some discussion, it was determined Hawke had most likely called in a fake report of a gunman to split their resources. It was Nolan that pointed it out, and while Tim's initial guess had been Hawke would escape through the sewer system, he begrudgingly admitted to Grey that Nolan's theory was sound, and fell in line with the behavior he'd exhibited today. Cunning, manipulative, and creating chaos. Yep. That had Jeremy Hawke written all over it.
The units split up to search the garage, each officer going on their own to search down rows and rows of cars. Somehow Nolan and Tim ended up coming across Hawke at the same time, and ended up getting baited into a fistfight. Hawke couldn't take both of them; Tim was sure of that, but that didn't stop him from landing a lucky punch or two before Bishop and Chen intervened. The first pepper-sprayed him, and even blinded, Hawke still tried to swing at Tim a second time. Lucy was ready for him though and tased the rogue officer before the blow could land, standing ready while Bishop bent over Hawke and cuffed him.
"You were supposed to arrest him, not get in a brawl," Bishop scolded him and Nolan before hauling Hawke to his feet and leading him away.
Alone, Lucy walked up to Tim. Concern had creased her brow. "Are you all right?" she asked. Her eyes traveled over his face, taking in the sight of where the other man's fists had landed.
Tim could feel the way his lip pulled as he tried to smile for her sake; split, probably. "I'm fine," he said, and gingerly touched his cheekbone, wincing under the slightest pressure.
"Well, at least you gave back as good as you got it, right?" She was trying to make a joke, but it sounded forced. She followed it with, "I'm sorry. I know you really respect Officer Hawke."
Tim nodded. "Yeah. I did." As he'd thought before, Hawke's methods were a relic of a bygone era. He didn't love when any cop showed themselves to be totally unhinged, but maybe he'd been foolish in thinking that even a Rambo-wannabe like Jeremy Hawke was misunderstood.
As they made their way through the parking lot, Lucy spoke again. "I've gotta be honest with you. I didn't like Hawke." That didn't surprise Tim. The kind of officer Hawke had been (shoot first, ask later) was the polar opposite of the kind Chen aspired to be. "I had him at the academy and I thought he was full of shit. I've worked with a lot of cops by this point, and he wasn't the best one by a long shot."
"And who's the best one?"
"Bishop." She said it evenly, an obvious attempt to make him laugh. It worked, and he snickered just before she added, "But you're a close second." Well, shit. Chen knew how to make a man blush, didn't she? She wasn't finished. "Hawke wanted to be a badass and he thought that's what made him a good cop. Everything he taught at the academy revolved around that idea. But you don't do that, Tim. From everything you've shown me, you try to be a good man, and that makes you a great cop."
If he thought he was blushing before, surely he was the color of a fucking fire truck now. Tim wasn't sure how to respond and considered answering with a compliment of his own, but the first thing that came to mind was the green sweater she'd worn a few days ago. His throat felt thick and dry as he remembered how one of the sleeves slid down, revealing the creamy, flawless skin of her shoulder, a striking contrast against her dark hair. It was one of the few times their paths intersected at the end of the day, and she had shot him a quick, pleasant, "Good night", hurrying by before he could get a single word out in response. Even rushing to her car, she had looked nice. Lovely, actually.
Of course, he couldn't say that. What did end up leaving his mouth was a genuine (if uncomfortable), "Thanks, Chen. That means a lot." Then, rather than let the mood stay heavy, he added, "But don't think this means I've forgiven you for wrecking."
Lucy patted his back twice, her palm warm and gentle between his shoulder blades. "Don't worry sir," she replied. "I'd never expect that from you."
He'd blame it on the surprise of her touch. That, or maybe his brains were still a little scrambled from yesterday's wreck, and, okay, he supposed it was possible that he was still brooding a little about her date the night before. Tim had asked about the other guy point-blank, and that led to a conversation where he learned Chen was ten years his junior. Their age gap wasn't bothersome. He'd known she was younger the moment they met, but Tim hadn't anticipated the conversation leading to a more tender moment. Like always, those took him by surprise. When he revealed that he'd had a blank timer for the first six years, her expression was a mix of confusion and awe. Not understanding either reaction, he didn't respond to it directly, ignoring her questions of "What made you keep it? Why did you wait?" Instead, he deflected by again bringing up her date. This time, he learned the guy was named Cam Wellings, and he tried to insist on running his info through the database even as she asked him to leave well-enough alone.
"There's already so much about me dating anyone that's inevitably going to be complicated," she pointed out, then pleaded, "Let me just have this one thing?"
That response -and how she'd looked up at him with her eyes wide and hopeful- succeeded in both shaking and shutting him up. Tim still felt flustered by it even as they went their separate ways at the station, watching her return their kit to the counter as something like longing urged him to return to her side. He didn't, though; didn't so much as move an inch in her direction. Instead, he stayed put and watched from a distance as West joined her and the two of them began talking. Three times, he saw Lucy's lips curve into a smile as they wrapped around another man's name. Cam, she said. Cam, again, and then later, Cam. He hated it a little; hated him, this unseen guy who put that look on her face, who made her eyes shine with three letters and after only one night out, and that loathing clouded his vision and made his steps heavy as he marched to the locker room to change.
Yeah, Tim was fine privately blaming his distraction on Lucy; on Lucy and this fucking "Cam" clown. Otherwise, there was no way he wouldn't have caught on to her little plan when she first asked him about his fake wallet. There was no way he would've missed the absence of his money clip as he changed out of his uniform, not realizing it was gone until he heard the self-satisfied smirk in her voice over the receiver at Scotty's.
"After you got your ass kicked, I grabbed your money clip," she revealed, her tone haughty and mirthful. "Gee, Tim. How ever will you pay for your bill?"
His hand flew to the back of his belt. Sure enough, no clip. "You are in so much trouble."
Lucy's response was to chuckle wryly, and something about that sound -smug, maybe a little flirtatious- sent a shiver down his spine. "You know, I could bring it to you…" she offered slyly, "but it'll cost you a drink."
Okay. Come here.
That was his first instinct: an overwhelming, enthusiastic yes, and Tim would've said it aloud if he hadn't sensed something in her voice that gave him pause. Her request was loaded with implications whether she realized it or not. Fresh off of the longing, of his hatred of another man's name in her pretty mouth, Tim wanted to say yes. Hell, he would've said yes, but he couldn't; or rather, he knew he shouldn't, if for no other reason than he'd promised the captain she had nothing to worry about by keeping them paired up. On the surface, that was true. Tim had kept all of their interactions above-board, not even mentioning how attractive he found her to Lopez, sure it was something he could combat on his own. If Andersen could see into the current state of his mind, alarm bells would sound. There was no denying that Lucy had slowly but surely made her way under his skin. He already felt like his resolve when it came to her was under steady erosion, and that, she had managed to accomplish while riding beside him. What might happen without the console to separate them? What would happen when they were alone?
He wanted to know. And he was afraid of knowing.
"I don't know if that's a good idea, Lucy," Tim replied dully at last. For a moment, she didn't respond, and he worried he'd lost her. "You still there?"
Lucy cleared her throat before answering. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm still here." Now her voice sounded tight, tense. Was she angry with him? "Well, in that case maybe you could wash the dishes? But you might want to glove up." No sooner had the jab landed than she hung up, the sudden dial tone informing him she'd ended the call.
With a sigh, Tim returned the receiver to the cradle. Declining had been the right choice, he was certain of that, but it did not stop the pit that formed in his gut, nor did it keep his brain from repeating the image of Cam on her lips.