He couldn't sleep after they ended the call, and not from a lack of trying. The conversation with Lucy -unplanned, pleasant- struck him as significant. Even though it had begun with her simply trying to tell him Happy New Year, there was something weighty about being the person she was with (in some sense) when midnight struck. Out of the last several, it was the first new year he faced with something like hope. Hope for what was to come. Hope for the future, whatever that might look like.

Hope, but not for them, necessarily; Tim had no illusions in that regard. As far as he knew Lucy was happy with her boyfriend, and he had neither the plans nor desire to interfere with that. Even if the thought had crossed his mind (and it absolutely hadn't) Tim was still married on paper, and both things about their relationship statuses didn't take into consideration their connection as TO and trainee. That… was a whole other mess; a complication, if he were interested in Lucy.

Which he wasn't.

Realizations and revelations aside, Tim had and would continue to maintain professionalism, although as he rolled over and faced his nightstand as sleep continued to evade him, he wondered if that was less about his feelings than motivated by the same stubbornness that made him refuse the concept of soulmates to begin with. Regardless, after her midnight phone call, it became easy (maybe too easy) to keep seeing Lucy in a new light. It was easy to let more of his guard down, to relinquish some (but not all) of his reservations. She was chipping his walls away piece by piece, and that manifested itself in interesting ways. Lucy was often in his thoughts, her presence lingering long after their shifts had ended. He would mull over the conversations in the shop, make secret note of an expression here, or a laugh there, until those moments solidified into memories. Even as Tim got Isabel settled into the inpatient facility two days later, half of his mind was across town; half of his mind was on Lucy.

They had so far not discussed New Year's Eve. Neither brought up the call or how maybe next year sounded like a cross between a wish and a promise. In the days that followed, it seemed to play out like an undercurrent, the hum of it present in every interaction. Even four nights later, as Tim settled in for a relaxing night of takeaway and Madden, his thoughts drifted to the call. Without much effort, he remembered the way her voice wrapped around his name, her goodbye coming through in a whisper. It was a recollection that felt out of place juxtaposed against football plays, and the memories faded when interrupted by the sound of a fist pounding on his front door, jarring him out of all thought.

"Bradford! Tim Bradford!"Angela's fist slammed the door again. "Mr. Timothy James Bradford, you better get your fine, flat ass up and open this door!"

Tim answered just as she'd raised her hand to knock again. When he opened the door, she cheered in his face. "Good! You're home! Let's go." She reached for him, but he evaded her grip.

"Go?" he asked. "Go where?"

"It's my last night as a free woman." Lopez waved her left wrist in his face. Although he couldn't see the numbers as her timer blurred by, he guessed she meant her countdown was almost through.

"Okay, and?"

"And, we're going out to celebrate. Come on," she said and reached for him again. "Bishop is already waiting for us."

"Did it cross your mind that I might have plans?"

She shot him a look, then glanced back towards his TV. "This is not 'plans'. This is Madden." A second, more scrutinizing look followed. "Are those sweatpants? You can't go out like that."

"I wasn't planning on going out at all."

"Tim, please?" She clasped her hands in front of her, an exaggerated gesture of pleading. "It won't be as fun without you." When begging failed, she tried a new angle. "I hung out with you the night before your timer went off, you know. It's only fair you do the same for me."

"If I remember correctly, I didn't know my timer was going off."

"I know right?" Lopez chuckled. "That was so funny."

"Hilarious. All right, fine. Let me get changed," Tim acquiesced, opening the door wider for Lopez and instructing her to make herself comfortable while he got ready. "But don't touch my game," he warned. "My Rams are two away from the Super Bowl."

"Wouldn't dream of it," she replied, and as he walked down the hall, she called after him. "Love what you've done with the place. Where did all these pictures come from?"

"Storage," he replied. After sorting through the boxes from the garage, Tim had divided his belongings into piles of things to keep and toss. He'd done the same with the relics from his marriage, although that was an ongoing process that had only just begun. So far, he'd removed the photos he and Isabel had taken together from the shelves they occupied, sliding them out of their frames and fitting pictures from his time in the Army into their places. His last ever high school football trophy went on a shelf, too, next to his grandfather's medal. It took the space that had once belonged to a glass vase that held the preserved petals of Isabel's wedding bouquet.

Perhaps it was premature of him -maybe even a little pessimistic- but Tim had the feeling that no matter what happened next, Isabel would not make a permanent return to the home they once shared. When the time came for them to part ways for good, his plan was to make it easy for her to take what she wanted of their mementos. He placed the things he intended to keep in one of the spare rooms; into the other, he'd moved the items she was welcome to. Whatever she left behind, he would take to the dump. Only the large framed print of their wedding picture remained in its place. Isabel had hung it up years ago without using a level, and the wall underneath it was dotted with nail holes from her first few attempts at getting it to hang evenly. The picture would have to stay up until he got around to making a run to the hardware store for some spackle and paint.

As he rejoined Angela in the living room, she pointed to his uniformed portrait. "Who let this fetus serve our country?" Her question was meant to tease him, and she quickly followed it with another. "When did you redecorate?"

"Just a few days ago," he replied. "Started going through things on New Year's."

"Really?" Lopez's lip quirked into a grin. "Was that before or after Chen called you?"

He paused on his way to the coat closet, turning to look at her. "How did you know Lucy called me?"

"I was with Lucy," she pointedly leaned on her name, "New Year's Eve for that party Cam and his friends were throwing. She needed help picking a dress, so she called me. Made your woman look pretty good if I do say so myself."

"She's not my woman, Angela," he corrected as he grabbed his jacket. "And I'm sure she looked great."

Lopez opened the front door before replying, "Oh, she did. She definitely did." Then, with a somewhat patronizing pat to his cheek, she added, "Don't look so glum, Bradford. I took pictures."

Yes, Angela had taken pictures, but Tim heard the mischief in her voice. He knew her well enough to know that she wanted him to ask to see the photos, and he wasn't about to give her the satisfaction. So what that he'd been curious ever since Lucy called it "frat party with a dash of fancy"? So what that it presented the first legitimate opportunity to get eyes on that guy she was dating? He was curious, but not desperate, and it was a point of pride that he didn't beg to see them.

Pride be damned, apparently. The next day, Lopez took the seat beside him while waiting for the roll call to start and presented an envelope filled with three-by-five photos.

"Hey, West," she called after taking her seat, motioning her rookie over. "Come look at my New Year's pictures."

No sooner had the words left her mouth than Tim took out his phone and opened the news app. The last thing he wanted to do was look eager to Lopez. He scrolled down a list of articles as Angela began pulling pictures out of the sleeve, half-listening as she explained the photos. The first few pictures he glimpsed through his periphery showed a nicer party than the one he'd envisioned. It had taken place at a villa, Lopez said, and despite the words "frat party" Tim noticed a conspicuous lack of kegs or beer pong. The food looked expensive, and everyone in the photos was dressed to the nines, closer to a cocktail party than the college-type party Lucy's description had led him to envision.

Lucy approached their table towards the end of Lopez's stack of pictures, just as she flipped to a picture and let out an exaggerated sound of awe.

"Oh, I love this one," Lopez said, showing the photo to West first. "She looks incredible, doesn't she?"

"Please," Lucy said humbly, downplaying the praise with a wave of her hand. "The dress and hair did most of the work."

"Come on. Give yourself some credit, Chen," Lopez answered. A second later, she slid the picture over his phone screen, covering the article about penguin migration patterns he'd been pretending to read. Tim was left with no choice but to look. "What do you think Bradford?" Lopez asked, again with that tone of mischief in her voice. "Doesn't your boot look just amazing in white?"

He was vaguely aware of Lucy's shock (or was it horror?) over Lopez's comment. It was a joke, he knew; skewing just a little too close to inappropriate, it was the kind of ribbing he usually would've responded to, but… well, fuck, there was no way around it. The photo Angela had placed in front of his face distracted him. Tim was speechless, maybe a little breathless, but he resisted revealing either reaction as he stared at the photo that covered his screen. Like the other partygoers, Lucy dressed up for the occasion. Her dark hair was down and curled, pinned back behind one ear with a jeweled clip, leaving her beautiful, slender neck on display. He could just make out the black design of the tattoo beneath her ear. Angela had managed to catch her at an angle. Her reflection showed in the mirror, the slightest smile on her berry-red lips.

And then there was that dress.

She wore a dress made out of ivory-colored fabric. From the top going down, it effortlessly emphasized every last one of her curves. It hugged each hidden line of her figure, beginning with the straps that sat off of her shoulders and finishing in a hem at the bottom just an inch or two above her knees. The fit was snug, tight. It was a dress that left no guesses. Tim could practically feel the slope from her hips to her waist just by looking at the photo. So much for a frat party, he thought. She looked like a fucking goddess, and he glanced up to see Lucy was watching his reaction with great interest. Aloud, the safest response he could muster was a cool, flat, "Looks nice, I guess."

Without another word, Lopez took the picture away, shuffling it to the back of the stack before pulling out the next.

"Oh, and this one, too." Like before, she showed it first to West. "Cam is seriously one of the most beautiful men I've seen up close." Her declaration was a little too loud and even more pointed when she turned to Lucy and added, "I guess you knew that though, didn't you, Boot?"

"Let me see," Tim said, and after a moment, the photo was tilted in his direction.

The man he saw in the picture was surprising. Okay… maybe surprising wasn't the right word. He knew very little about this boyfriend of Lucy's, and what little info he had was mostly what he had overheard her telling to other people. At some point, she must have mentioned he was a personal trainer, and his imagination had taken off with that label. He envisioned a total jock; a meathead type with cartoonishly large muscles and an Austrian accent. Cam didn't look like that. He was tall and in pretty good shape, but he didn't look like he could beat Tim in a footrace, let alone a fight. His skin was tan, his smile too perfect, and his dark brown hair was styled within an inch of its life. Cam wore a black suit and a black shirt, which contrasted Lucy's white dress. In the photo, they were embracing, and Tim's hand briefly clenched into a fist when he noticed every delicious line of her body was pressed against Cam's with no space between them. One of his hands was between her shoulder blades, his fingers curling into the ringlets at the nape of her neck. The base of his thumb partially obscured her tattoo. Cam kept his hands high on Lucy's figure, the lowest being placed in the middle of her back. If Tim had to see him touch her at all, at least he didn't have to witness his fingers on her hips, on her waist.

There was no denying they made an attractive couple; Cam with his slightly -just slightly- above-average looks, Lucy with that pretty profile of hers, her eyes gazing up into his, her smile bright and unguarded. Had the picture been taken before she called Tim, or after? He wanted to ask, but how could he? He supposed it didn't matter. They looked good together, but there was a twinge to that realization, a sharp edge that Tim couldn't easily dismiss. There was… something… about seeing her pressed against another man. Something about seeing all those soft curves yielding against someone else's body. Tim recognized envy without needing to dwell on it very long, and led by that emotion, he blurted out, "He just looks like a person."

"Sure," Lopez replied, "and Shakespeare's just a poet."

Sergeant Grey and Captain Andersen entered the roll just as she finished speaking, and all conversation came to an end once Sarge took his place at the podium. Tim had a hard time focusing as Grey spoke, mentally occupied by the pictures Lopez had shown him. He tried hard to scrub the image of Lucy in her boyfriend's arms out of his mind's eye but had little luck. At least the photograph answered the one question he had always sort of wondered but never once gave voice to. Was Lucy happy with Cam? Judging by their embrace, by the tenderness in her eyes, the smile on her lips (absent the lipstick, he recalled with a cringe) Tim had no choice but to assume so. Assume, yes, and hell, he hoped it was true for her sake. Lucy deserved that much, if not more.

… But holy fucking shit, that dress. He mulled the memory multiple times, turning it over and over in his head as he slumped down in his seat. He could call to mind easily the way her hair fell long down her back, the exposed skin of her neck and collarbone. Did she wear her usual perfume that night? That floral one that he caught hints of during shifts in the shop? And God, the way the folds of the fabric clung to every inch of her, tight from the span of her hips all the way down to-

"-Bradford?"

Suddenly, Bishop was in front of him. Around them, officers were standing, and the chatter had resumed. The roll call had ended, and all had been dismissed to their duties. "You ready to roll? Captain has us together."

"Us?"

Bishop looked at him warily. "Yeah. She's taking Chen today. Nolan's with Sarge." Again, she met him with that look of apprehension. "Were you paying attention at all?"

"Sorry. Had a lot on my mind." He stood, then nodded curtly to his own comment. "Right. Well, uh, get the gear, then."

"Excuse you? Do I look like I'm your boot?"

Tim smirked. "You were once."

To that, Bishop snapped, "Years ago. For two weeks. Why don't you get it?"

"Because I don't want to."

"Well, I'm not gonna."

"Fine. I'll get Lucy to do it."

Bishop's gaze was again uncertain. Suspicious, even. "'Lucy', huh?"

Shit. "Chen. Whatever," Tim replied just as he noticed his boot across the bullpen. As he approached, she started to apologize.

"I'm sorry about that," Lucy said, and for a second, he was confused.

"About what? Lopez?" He scoffed, faking nonchalance as he encouraged her, "Ignore her. She's just trying to get under your skin." Yours and mine, knowing Lopez. She mumbled a response that he couldn't quite make out. "What was that, Boot?"

"Nothing. Did you need something?"

"Yea. Load the shop for me, would you?"

Lucy paused. "Sir, I'm supposed to ride with Captain Andersen today, remember?"

"Yes, and Bishop and I are riding together. We'll still need gear."

"… And you want me to get your gear?"

He shrugged. "You know how I like it." Then, realizing how that could be taken, Tim clarified, "The gear, I mean." Before he could embarrass himself more, he stepped back. "Okay. Get to it, Boot."

Bishop had watched the whole exchange from a distance and rolled her eyes as he approached. "What? I got the gear handled."

"You're pathetic," she replied, and it wasn't long before he and Bishop both were beckoned back to the kit counter, this time by the Captain herself.

"Officer Chen is my Boot today. Is that clear?" she admonished, leaving them no choice but to nod in agreement before Tim stepped forward to relieve Lucy of his and Talia's gear.

"Tattletale", he whispered as he reached for the equipment. As he pulled back, he caught the scent of her perfume, that subtle fragrance he'd come to recognize as hers. The sight of the tattoo beneath her ear quickly brought his mind back to Lopez's stack of photos; to the image of her hair, her lips, and that little white dress, snug around her hips and ass.

Fuck. Tim's hand tightened around the barrel of the rifle. It was going to be a long day.

"You got some nerve, you know," Bishop said to Tim without warning a few hours shy of the end of their shift.

"Nerve?" he repeated. "What did I do?" Was this about the call? They'd disagreed on the way in about who would make contact, each feeling entitled to that responsibility with neither backing down even as they spoke with the civilian. Her comment about nerve came as they made their way to the laundry room in the basement, where the caller believed a vagrant possibly connected to a series of break-ins in the building was hiding out.

"Didn't I see you flirting with Chen in front of the captain?" she replied.

Oh. That.

Bishop's criticism continued. "That was ballsy of you, Bradford. Dumb as hell, but ballsy."

"I wasn't flirting," he defended, but that was not enough to convince Talia.

"You called her a tattletale."

"And you consider that flirting?"

"Sure looked like it to me. It was a little fourth-grade of you, yeah, but I've never known you to be a smooth operator." Tim ignored her as they reached the laundry room, but his silence was not a deterrent. "You should never have kept her on. You should have switched her out on the very first day. You know what an impossible position you're putting her in."

At this, Tim turned to face her. "'Impossible position'? What the hell do you mean by that? I'm training her, aren't I? Have I done anything I wouldn't do for any other recruit?"

"She isn't your average recruit, though, is she? She was never going to be an average recruit. The second your timers went off, that went out the window." Talia shifted onto her back foot as she crossed her arms. "Tim. Look at your behavior today alone, and look at hers over the past few months. No matter what you intended, having her soulmate as TO is affecting Lucy. I mean, why else would she consider getting her timer removed?"

"… You knew about that?"

Bishop appeared disappointed as she spoke again. "I had a feeling she might try it. Didn't know for sure until Nolan said something." Then, she added, "Who do you think gave her that idea?"

"That was you?" He took a step back. "Then I guess you know she didn't go through with it, don't you?"

"Yeah, Nolan told me that much, too." A beat followed before she revealed, "He also told me she hides it now. Surely you've noticed that, right? That she hides her timer under his watch?"

He'd noticed, yeah, but until that moment, hadn't connected that particular set of dots. Tim knew she'd started wearing Nolan's watch, had known the other man had gifted it to her, but only when Talia mentioned it did he realize the instances were related.

"Look," Bishop continued, "it's been tough for you lately. Between this stuff with Chen and everything you've gone through with Isabel… I get it. I have sympathy for it." After a deep breath, she leveled her last, incisive remark. It came across as sharp, but not mean. "You're kidding yourself if you think you can keep this above reproach forever."

Bishop said no more on the subject after that, letting it drop so both of them could focus on the task at hand. The conversation turned away from Lucy as they disagreed over strategy, with Bishop preferring one tactic and Tim wanting to take another. A few minutes of butting heads later, he made an executive decision as the more senior officer on site.

Tim burst into the room first, gun high, announcing himself as LAPD. To his disgust, he found, not a person, but a skunk. An actual, real skunk; he was sure of it. That smell was unmistakable, and if he weren't certain before, Tim (unfortunately) managed a positive ID as a pungent, stinging liquid was misted into his eyes.

"Oh hell, no," Bishop exclaimed as he barreled out of the room, reeking to high heaven. "Dammit, Bradford, if you'd just listened to me-"

"- How was I supposed to know there was a skunk in there?!"

"What do you think a wedge and slow search are for, dumbass?" She held out her hand while using the other to plug her nose. "Give me the keys."

He pulled the keyring out of his pocket. "I'll drive."

"Like I'm letting you in my shop like this," Bishop snapped as she snatched the keys out of his hand.

"Then what the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Oh, now you care what I think?" she retorted but offered no advice. She covered her nose as she passed him, leaving Tim with no choice but to call a cab to take him back to the station. The poor cab driver rolled the windows down, but the stink was persistent and hadn't dissipated at all by the time he trudged into the lobby. He was already feeling pretty damn humiliated when his eyes landed on Lucy. She was standing a few feet away from the doors, holding a Glock with a look of disbelief on her face as he asked what happened.

No one answered his question, but everyone gagged, which did wonders for his already wounded pride. Lucy was the only one who managed to choke out, "Um, did you get skunked?" in a small voice before he slunk off to the showers. Tim scrubbed his skin nearly raw under the hottest water he could bear, and by the time he rinsed off, he felt like the stench had gone away some. Either that, or he was getting used to it, which he figured was possible, but there wasn't much else he could do at the station. If he wanted to get the rest of the skunk funk off, he'd need to go home.

Tim dressed and left the locker room, but he didn't make it far before spotting Lopez a short distance away. She was speaking with a man in a suit, a slight smile on her face throughout the entire exchange. Whatever was being discussed, Lopez was happy, and once the man walked away, Tim approached.

"Let me guess. That's the guy?" he asked.

Her smile widened into a grin. "Yep. That's the one. Wesley Evers. A defense attorney."

"A lawyer?" Tim chuckled. "Damn. I'm sorry."

"Don't be a punk," she teased before shaking her head. "We didn't get off to the best start."

"No?"

"No, but we're going out for a drink anyways." She tried to smile again, but her nose wrinkled at the end of it. "Ugh, I'd ask you what you're doing, but you smell like a bag of asses."

Leave it to Lopez to put it so elegantly. "You should smell the other guy," he replied dourly. "I had a run-in with a skunk."

"So I guess you're gonna go get a shower?"

"I already showered."

"… Hopefully you're getting another shower," Lopez finished. She went to clap him on the shoulder, thought better of it, and lowered her hand. "Guh. Maybe two." Then, she said goodnight.

He hadn't made it much closer to the garage when Bishop caught up to him.

"Tim, wait up," she said, and he turned to face her. "Look, I know things got tense at the end there."

Tim tried to shrug it off. "It's okay. We each said things we didn't mean. The skunk took both of us by surprise."

"… I wasn't talking about the skunk, and I meant every word I said."

"Even when you called me a dumbass?"

Bishop snorted. "Maybe especially when I called you a dumbass," she replied, but there was a fondness to the dig that kept it from feeling like a full-blown insult. "Anyway, I wasn't talking about the skunk. I was talking about Chen."

Tim lowered his gaze and nodded. "I guess it doesn't shock me that you'd bring that up again."

"You know I just want what's best for you, right? What's best for both of you?"

Tim nodded.

"She waited to meet you for fourteen years," Talia said quietly. "Every milestone, from the time she was a teenager until the day you met, you were on her arm. You were a part of every moment whether you realized it or not. Then within a month of your timers going off, she started dating. Why do you think that is?"

"I… don't know," he answered. Tim had never thought to wonder why. He just accepted her choices (as much as he might privately disagree with or dislike them).

"She held a space for you in her life. She held a space for you, and now she's trying to fill it. If you ask me, she wouldn't do that if she weren't affected in some way, and Lucy deserves better than having to balance her feelings for you with learning how to be a good cop.

"I'm not going to tell you what to do," Bishop continued. "You're a grown man. She's a grown woman. You guys don't need me to protect you from each other… but just think about what I said, okay?"

Again, he nodded. "Sure thing, Bishop."

"Okay." If not pleased, she was at least satisfied by his half-assed agreement and ended the conversation by presenting him with a can of tomato juice. "You still smell like shit," she teased wryly before walking away.

A/N: I know it's been a few days since the announcement came out but YAY! WE'RE GETTING A SEASON 5! What do you hope to see next season?
Just a reminder that I post on twitter under meadow_suz, mostly for sharing fic recs. I've thought about putting previews for upcoming chapters on there, but I haven't done so yet. Let me know if that's something you'd be interested in, I guess!
Thank you so much for reading! Please review!