On the day he married Isabel, they had walked out of the church arm in arm. The whole event from ceremony to reception had been small, sparse, and a bit of a whirlwind. Tim didn't remember getting the chance to rest, let alone eat, but the moment they walked out of the church, giddy as they marched up the aisle, all smiles and nervous laughter as their small gathering of guests cheered… that, he remembered pretty fucking clearly. From the smell of her bouquet of roses to the swish-swish sound the satin skirt of Isabel's dress made with every stride, it was a moment his mind had preserved perfectly. Tim knew why he thought about it at that moment; knew why, of all the times he had remembered their wedding day, this instance was the most significant to the present. It felt like a bookend, a parallel. The first thing they did in their marriage was walk together. They walked side by side now, as it ended.

For a long time, Tim said nothing. Neither did Isabel, and they fell into slow, synched steps as they followed the winding brick path that formed a figure-eight around and through the garden blooming behind the rehabilitation center. The air was crisp and fragrant with the scent of flowers and freshly-cut grass, and for a while, the only sound was their deep, steady breaths, their muted footfalls. The silence wasn't awkward, per se, but it did stretch on as each side considered how to speak. He had no idea what Isabel was thinking and wasn't sure how to ask what led to her declaration. All he knew was his own mind.

Their marriage was over. He agreed with her statement and had thought so for a while himself… but knowing a thing was over was different from staring down its certain end, and Tim had not thought to prepare for such a conversation. Consequently, he'd been left a little speechless, and even as the minutes passed, he remained unsure of where or how to begin.

Eventually, Isabel spoke again, gesturing to the box in his palm as she explained, "I tried to sell it." The band slid inside the box with every step; Tim could hear it jangle against the cardboard. "I tried to sell it a few times, actually. Got into pawn shops with it in my pocket."

"What stopped you?"

She shrugged. "Just couldn't do it. I'd think of you, and I'd see your face, and I couldn't do it. Thought maybe one day…" she trailed off, shaking her head after a pause. "Well. I guess it doesn't matter now."

"Isabel." Tim waited until she turned to him to continue. "It's okay. You can say it."

She sighed, hesitating over the rest of her story. There was shame to her explanation, obvious and palpable in her tone as she said in a whisper, "After a while, I knew I wanted to give it back one day. It was yours and it needed to stay yours." A choked laugh broke through her lips. "I didn't think it would be like this, though. This? This was a surprise."

Habit made him want to comfort her, but Tim was uncertain how. He tried to pivot, changing the subject.

"Finally cleaned out the garage," he mumbled, and that earned him a laugh that sounded a little less sad, at least.

"Glad to see my nagging paid off." She shook her head as she chuckled. "Find anything good?"

"Eh, a few things." He made no mention of his grandmother's ring or the picture from Connelly, thinking of both tucked safely in his nightstand at home. "A medal from my grandpa. Stuff that belonged to my mother."

He wondered if thinking of those items -the ring, the photo- showed on his face somehow, because Isabel eyed him suspiciously but said nothing as she looped her arm through his while they proceeded down the path. Like before, there was no heat to the contact, but if nothing else he welcomed her touch for the comfort it had once given him. Besides, it could have been argued that Isabel was the only family he had left, so he didn't want to hurt her feelings by recoiling, and at that thought he could almost hear Lopez scolding him, telling him that family was more than blood and deeper than vows.

"I knew how much time you had left," Isabel continued. Despite Tim's attempts to find a new, easier topic, she refused to be swayed, apparently determined to have the hard conversation no matter what.

"I figured you did," he replied. He'd guessed as much a long time ago.

"I know I told you it didn't matter to me, but it did. I was so afraid that she would swoop in and take you away the second you hit zero." He heard her huff another watery chuckle before adding, "I supposed I should say 'Lucy', now, shouldn't I?"

"You don't have to. We're not… I mean, she's…" Tim stammered through a few half-answers before ending with, "She's just my rookie." There was more he could say to assure Isabel, he knew. He could confess his harshness in the beginning, his insistence that timers weren't real; he could reveal he'd pushed her away to begin with. Hell, he could even bring up her boyfriend, but Tim said no more, merely let the dismissal hang in the air, and hoped it would be enough.

It wasn't. "Sure, she is," Isabel replied, and did not sound at all convinced before she continued. "I somehow got it into my head that the way to keep you was to be as perfect as possible. To be 'low-maintenance', whatever the hell that means. UC allowed me to let loose."

"A little too loose," he grumbled beneath his breath. He said it as a joke, but realized too late that it skewed a little too close to cruel. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Isabel, fortunately, found the humor in it.

"Don't be sorry. It's true," she replied, then released his arm before stepping in front of him, pausing their journey down the path. "I wanted it to work. We both wanted it to work."

Tim nodded. "I think we held on so tight, we broke it."

This she agreed to immediately. "We did. We really fucking did."

There was not much else to say, was there? His wedding ring was in his hand, and the woman who gave it to him stood in front of him. There would be no holding on to either. "I'm sorry it didn't work."

"I'm sorry, too." Her blue eyes went glassy, but she blinked back tears, trying to smile for both of their sakes. "It's going to be okay, you know? You were never supposed to be mine."

That stung a little. "Don't say that, Isabel," he pleaded. "We were happy, right?"

She appeared to ponder it. When she spoke again, she did not nod, answering honestly, "We were as happy as we could be." Then she returned to her place at his side, her arm once more curling through his. They walked a few more feet before she asked, "Does Lucy make you happy? Happier than I did?"

Tim sighed. "Isabel-"

"-I want to know," she interrupted, and it was not the first time during his visit that her smile betrayed a tension she seemed determined to conceal. "I can handle it. I promise."

"She has a boyfriend."

Isabel's sympathy was instant, true, and really unexpected. "I'm sorry."

He gave a weak shrug. "It is what it is. I'm the one that told her I didn't believe in soulmates to start with. I'm not surprised she found someone else."

"And you're okay with that?"

Tim paused. If he really sat down and thought about it, the answer was a full-throated no. No, he wasn't okay with it, and he couldn't even fucking pinpoint exactly why. All Tim knew was the thought of Cam Wellings set his teeth on edge, and the feeling of being an outsider when it came to Lucy was a level of revulsion he wasn't keen on experiencing again. So yeah, he had some intense feelings about it, but equally as strong were the boundaries he was duty-bound to uphold. Boundaries drawn, not just by protocol, but by his soulmate herself, and he needed to respect both. To Isabel's question, he replied, "I don't want to get in the way of her happiness."

She smirked. "There you go again, Bradford. Being all noble."

He had a list a mile long proving the opposite. Hell, the things he'd done for the woman on his arm had made the idea of his integrity laughable, and when it came to Lucy… No. No, he hadn't been noble. He'd been an ass. Tim had soul-searched enough over the past few months to know that much with certainty. "I'm not noble."

"You are though. Noble. Good," Isabel countered. She squeezed his arm gently one more time before letting him go. "It's part of why I loved you."

It ended up that visiting with Isabel didn't take most of the day. It didn't even take up much of it; all told, he stayed for a little over an hour, and after officially calling time on their marriage, there wasn't really much more to talk about. There was one light, brief discussion about the house and what little of her belongings remained therein, but none of it could be handled while she was still receiving treatment. Besides, it felt needlessly callous to lean on the specifics, vulnerable as she was, so Tim refrained for her benefit. When she tried to suggest they look into a mediator, he shook his head.

"We can worry about that later," he said. "Just focus on getting better, okay?" There would be plenty of time to work out the details, and Tim in particular was in no rush because what exactly was waiting for him on the other side? What, after all of this was finally put to bed for good, did he have to look forward to? There was nothing in his future but the certainty of an empty house. Maybe he could get a dog for company.

He must have said the last part aloud by mistake because suddenly, Isabel scoffed. "You really think you and Lucy have no future together?" she asked.

"She has a boyfriend," he repeated. "She's happy."

"I don't buy that for a second."

"What do you mean?"

"Remember the day that Wolfe and Vestri brought me in?" She managed to mention it without a single, visible sign of discomfort, a testament to her growth and to the progress she'd made in rehab. "When she said I was still the one you wanted?" It was an uncomfortable memory to recall but, at her mention of it, he nodded. "You should've seen her face when she said that, Tim," Isabel whispered. "I know she's with another guy, but… come on. Haven't we all learned by now that nothing is permanent? Whoever he is, he has an uphill battle." She tapped his chest, her finger pressing twice over his heart. "He isn't her first choice."

He wasn't sure what to do with the wedding ring. Tim didn't intend to keep it, given that he no longer had a reason to wear it. He'd heard of divorcees trashing their wedding dresses and tossing their rings; their right to so do, he supposed, but he didn't want to be wasteful. Besides, even though his marriage was over, he and Isabel were ending on decent enough terms (and that was a goddamn miracle if he ever saw one). He couldn't bring himself to do something heartless, something that disrespected a symbol that had (once upon a time) been so dear to him. Like Isabel, he knew he couldn't sell it.

Donating it, though? That came easily. That, out of all of his options, made all the sense in the world, and giving it to the rehab that had helped Isabel get clean felt full circle and appropriate.

Tim stopped by the front desk on his way through the facility's lobby and placed the ring on the counter. "I'd like to make a donation to the center. I know it won't fetch much of a price, but I'd like to make a gift of whatever it will get you."

The receptionist opened the box and picked up the wedding band, pinching the circle between his forefinger and thumb as he looked at it with amusement. "Not the weirdest donation I've gotten. I mean, this is LA," he said with a snicker before looking at Tim. "Are you sure you want to donate this, sir?"

"Absolutely," Tim replied, and after a moment added, "but there's one more thing. Keep it anonymous, okay?"

Maybe it was because he was raw from the visit with Isabel, although vulnerable might have been the better word for it. Maybe it was the holiday getting him caught up in his feelings, something like sentimentality shot through with touches of nostalgia… or maybe the picture, like the ring, was a thing Tim was ready to let go of. Whatever motivated it, once the impulse surfaced, he couldn't ignore it. Nor did he want to, as it turned out.

Lucy had wanted the picture of the night his timer started counting down; she'd asked for it and made a case for keeping it when he'd shown it to her. So, after leaving the rehab, he went to Target and picked up a wooden frame, tissue paper, and a pink bag that was a little too cutesy for his taste (but whatever, it was Valentine's Day, after all). He brought all three items back to his house, placing the frame glass-side down on his bed before going to the nightstand and withdrawing the picture, reading the caption on the back one last time before carefully setting it inside the frame, remembering what Isabel had said as he pressed the black cardboard backing into place.

You really think you and Lucy have no future together?

If Tim had had more time, he would've explained further. In the silence and privacy of his home, he could dwell on the truth. No; no, he didn't think he and Lucy had a future together, and he refused to consider why that bothered him so much. Anyways, he had no one to blame for that except himself.

So… maybe it wasn't sentimentality, he thought as he tucked the picture frame into the bag and covered it with white paper. Maybe it was just a day for closing doors, for ending chapters. Maybe it was just a day for goodbyes to futures that could never and would never be.

He waited until the end of Lucy's shift to go to the station, parking and walking over to her car so he could spot her easily. Not that he needed the help when it came to seeing her. The world fading hadn't stopped since the day they met, even if Tim had adjusted to it in the months since, and tonight was no exception. She walked into the parking garage and his vision clouded except for the space she filled. New to the experience, though, was the ache in his heart, a sincere longing that turned sharp when she saw and smiled at him before shyly lowering her eyes as she walked towards her car.

"Everything okay?" she asked once she had closed the gap between them.

"Yeah, I guess. Or it will be." His mouth went dry with nerves before he said, "I have a gift for you. Happy Valentine's Day."

"You got me a Valentine's Day present?" she whispered as her smile became a grin.

"… Sort of. It's something you said you wanted," he clarified, and damn his nerves, because suddenly he started to feel like this was a massive miscalculation on his part. What if she was expecting something more, and he was giving her a dud gift that she'd have to fake appreciation for? "I'll understand if you've changed your mind," he added quickly, just to cover his ass.

Lucy reached through the paper and made quick work of the wrapping. Seconds later, a soft gasp left her lips as she pulled the frame free and saw the photo. "Oh, Tim." She both looked and sounded awed as she asked, "Are you sure you want me to have this?"

"Absolutely." He'd come to realize it was just as much a part of her history as his, being that she was the catalyst for the picture. Hell, she'd been the catalyst for a lot of things in his life, hadn't she? "Unless… you don't want it?" Tim pretended to reach for it then, laughing as she held it close and shook her head. "I thought so."

She said nothing more for a moment, but her pearly teeth sank gently into her bottom lip before asking, "Where did you go today? I don't need all the details but… well, Angela mentioned in the briefing room that you never take personal days."

Tim bit back a sigh. Naturally, Lopez brought that up, he thought, because God forbid she minded her own business. He wasn't mad, though; not at his friend for mentioning it, and certainly not at Lucy for asking. In fact, he was kind of, sort of (definitely) touched by the way she asked after him. He wondered aloud, "You worried about me, Chen?"

Lucy rolled her eyes, but it did not undermine the sincerity in her voice as she replied, "Isn't that obvious by now, Bradford? That's what we do."

She was right. That's what they did, wasn't it? From apartments to hospital bedsides and everything in between, there had always been an undercurrent of something that connected them. Sometimes it was worry, but sometimes it wasn't, and over time it was consistently motivated by genuinely caring about each other. Tim cared for Lucy; he had for quite a while, and knew that much was reciprocated by his soulmate, which only made him feel extra shitty when he told her, "I was seeing Isabel." Her face noticeably shifted hearing his wife's (ex-wife's, God that was still so fucking strange) name, and he rushed to explain so quickly he barely had time to wonder why she looked so hurt by the mention.

"It was part of rehab. The healing process, or whatever. I'm not sure what they call it officially. You'd know better than me. But, um…" he hesitated over the moment of truth, tasting the words he hadn't said aloud to anyone yet. It felt significant -important, somehow- that Lucy, of all people, was the first one to whom he said, "It's over."

"Her rehab?"

"No. Our marriage."

The news surprised Lucy. Her mouth fell open in a small, soundless "oh" before she asked, "What do you mean? Why?"

It was almost too easy to tell an incomplete truth, to put the blame squarely on him. To make the end his own shortcoming. He was still trying to protect Isabel, he realized, an old habit that would only die off with time and space. Besides, he couldn't tell Lucy just how big a part the timers had played after all. The devices had been mentioned by name as a reason for Isabel's pursuit of UC work, which eventually led her to drugs and addiction. That was not fair to Lucy, and he intended to spare her from that heartbreak if he could. One day, he might tell her the entire story, but for now, he said, "I needed to see her through this, and I did. She's clean. She's well on her way to recovery. I've done all I can. If I stick around now, I'm just a reminder of all the times she failed."

To his surprise, Lucy did not question him further. In response, she moved to comfort him. In one hand she held the bag and picture frame, but with the other, she clutched his arm. "I'm sorry," she said as her eyes searched his earnestly. "I know you love her."

"Yeah," he replied, agreeing with a short, perfunctory nod. "You're right," I did, he thought, "but it's the right thing for both of us."

Yes, the right thing for both of us, he repeated to himself, and the longer Lucy's hand stayed on his arm, the harder it was to ignore the racing rhythm to his pulse that her touch had ignited. Beneath her palm, he felt the sensation -the stirring- that had been absent when he hugged Isabel or when he held her, and it soon enough became too much to bear. He stepped away from her grip quickly. "Um, but I won't keep you. I'm sure you have plans with Cam." There was a new, sour edge to the name when he said it, and it was a feeling that stayed as he turned to go.

"Tim."

He looked back at the sound of his name. Lucy had kept her eyes on him, watching as he'd begun to leave. Her grip had tightened on the pink and white bag, and she shifted nervously from one foot to the other before speaking.

"Cam and I broke up a few days ago," she revealed, and after a breath, echoed verbatim his sentiment surrounding the end of his marriage. "It was the right thing for both of us."

It didn't have to change anything. Tim knew that. So he was single, and so was she. So what? Their working relationship had not changed, and although he and Isabel agreed to officially separate, even a no-fault divorce would take time; he was still married on paper. It didn't have to change anything. In fact, he felt really fucking sure it shouldn't have.

It did, though. It changed everything, because his hands burned at his sides with the memory of her hips beneath them, and his stare fixated on her mouth as he recalled that first day, when the temptation to run his thumb across her bottom lip had nearly overwhelmed him. It seemed like a thousand timers were ringing, buzzing, clanging in his ears as he gazed at her wordlessly, absorbing the news as a hundred different possible outcomes converged into a single, solid picture.

It was not so much that he could easily envision a future together. He was not so far gone that he would let himself imagine a home, a family, but he remembered what he had thought weeks ago. Months ago, actually; on the night Isabel almost died, when Lucy had come and stayed by his side. She'd entered the room and lit up the dark space, and in his unreliable recall looked almost haloed in his memory. It had been the moment that Tim realized he could love her.

Now, it felt like he would. At some point, what was only potential had become definite. I could had morphed into I will.

"Okay," he whispered, and it was not merely acknowledgment on his part. It was acceptance of what had been growing from the start. It was the anxious anticipation of what he now knew had always been inevitable. Her amber eyes were clear and held his gaze. From them, Tim felt a warmth as certain as an embrace as Lucy answered.

"… Okay."

A/N: I know people have been looking forward to this one. I hope it was everything you wanted it to be!

I can't believe they're filming season 5 already! Did you see the video Eric posted in his "Dim" getup? He looks so good in tattoos I could cryyyy.

Don't forget I'm posting about Chenford and giving sneak peeks of this fic on twitter: meadow_suz

Thank you so much for reading!