The man who killed the captain was arrested without incident. They cornered Cole Midas with overwhelming police presence, leaving him with no choice but to go into custody willingly. It brought the department the promise of justice, at least, but no relief. Grief was a constant, hanging over the station and the officers she left behind. It did not break when they buried Captain Andersen on a sunny Saturday afternoon. The event rightfully attracted hundreds of mourners who came to pay their respects. Anyone that could be spared from the Mid-Wilshire station was permitted to attend the funeral and graveside ceremony.

On the day of, Tim picked Lucy up at her apartment. They both donned their dress blues for the occasion and, upon arriving at the ceremony, were seated together in one of the rows reserved for their department. He stayed by her side for the burial too and noticed Lucy began to cry only when Sergeant Grey rose to deliver the end-of-watch call for the captain, large tears rolling silently down her cheeks. When the service ended and they returned to his truck, he handed her a pocket-sized pack of tissues he'd stashed in the center console.

"Here," he said. "I got these for you. Forgot to bring them to the service."

Lucy reached for the pack. "Thank you." She broke the seal and took out a tissue, then pulled down the passenger's side mirror to check her reflection. "Shit," she muttered with a watery laugh, removing her gloves before wiping carefully beneath her eyes. "Ugh. I'm a mess."

"You're not a mess," he replied quickly. "You're sad. We're both sad. What happened is terrible." He thought then of his mother, that first major loss that still informed so much of his life. Deaths always caused a bit of a trajectory shift; he knew the same would be true of Andersen's passing, and that thought made him a little anxious.

As if reading his mind, Lucy asked, "What happens now? Will they replace the captain?"

"Who knows," Tim replied, answering the first half of her question. As for the second half, it was just a matter of time before someone was moved into the position left vacant by Captain Andersen's death. The department needed a leader, after all, and it was likely the brass would move with a quickness now that she'd been laid to rest. It was practical, if maybe a little callous, to decide on a replacement as soon as possible. "That's tomorrow's worry, okay? Whatever happens will happen." Then he put the keys in the ignition, and as the engine came to life, told her, "I'll take you home."

Lucy nodded, then asked, "Would you like to stay for a while? Hang out, or whatever?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"I don't know. We could have lunch? Watch a movie? I just," her voice broke, the threat of fresh tears straining the sound, "I really don't want to be alone right now." When he did not answer immediately, she mumbled, "We don't have to, if you'd rather not."

"No, I want to," Tim said as he shifted the truck into drive. "Okay. Let me change out of my uniform and… okay."

They stopped by his house first. Lucy waited in the truck while he changed into a clean t-shirt and jeans. Afterward, they headed to Lucy's apartment. The first thing she did upon arrival was change out of her uniform as well, and she walked out of her bedroom wearing a cropped sweatshirt and plain black leggings. An inch of skin was exposed above the waistband, and despite their still-present sorrow, Tim felt his body react to the sight, the urge to touch her almost as strong as a reflex. When she noticed him staring, Lucy mistook his gaze for judgment and teased, "Don't look at me like that. I wanted to be cozy."

"I'm not, I'm… You look…" he stammered briefly, thinking Nice? Pretty? before choosing to say, "comfortable."

"I am… comfortable." She snorted at his awkward pacing, then walked towards the kitchen. "Are you hungry? I'm starving."

Together, they assembled a late lunch, with Lucy heating up tomato soup while Tim buttered bread for grilled cheese sandwiches. Today of all days called for comfort food, she'd said, and he agreed as they stood in the close quarters of her kitchen preparing their simple meal. They ate on the living room floor while watching a movie she'd chosen. Lucy had seemed almost shy when she presented the DVD to him, explaining it was one of her favorites.

"You can veto it if you want," she said, with a little wry chuckle.

He handed the case back to her without a second thought. "No vetoes today, Lucy. Whatever you pick is fine with me."

The movie wasn't so bad; maybe not great, but okay, he figured. Tim wasn't the biggest fan of musicals, but he would surely put up with worse if it made her feel better. A version of the Cinderella story from the seventies, the music was pretty, if a little boring. At least the colors of the costumes and the sets were nice to look at. The actress portraying Cinderella had a lovely voice, and the prince was played by LA County's own Richard Chamberlain, who bounded confidently across the set in the ugliest wig Tim had ever seen. When the leads began a romantic waltz shortly after meeting, Lucy hummed along to the melody. From that moment on he paid more attention to her than to the film, watching her from the corner of his eye. She hugged her knees to her chest, grinning as the prince found Cinderella and kissed her passionately. She rested her chin in her palm as the lovers were separated a second time by circumstance, finding their way back to one another with only minutes to spare.

Tim stayed through the end of the movie. Afterward, Lucy switched to Buzzfeed Unsolved. Quite the stark turn from a fairy tale, for sure, but she had mentioned it once before and had been so excited to show him, he wouldn't dream of saying no. The show was pretty entertaining, once he understood the premise. Two friends, one a believer, the other a skeptic, visiting famous sights of supposed hauntings. It was more his speed than the movie had been, and they binged through half of a season before he offered to get dinner for them.

"Is it that late already?" Lucy asked, stunned as she glanced at the time on her phone. "Wow. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? Why?"

"I mean, I've taken up your entire afternoon and half of the evening."

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be" he replied automatically, only realizing the weight of what he'd said when he heard Lucy's breath catch. He jibed half-heartedly, "And it's not like I had anything else to do, anyway."

"Wow, Tim," she chuckled, shaking her head in exaggerated irritation. "To think I was about to call you sweet."

They discussed a few dinner options, deciding on sushi takeout from a restaurant not too far from Lucy's apartment. They didn't offer delivery, so Tim picked it up. When he returned with dinner, he noticed she had put two place settings on her small oval dining room table.

"This looks nice," he said as he set the paper bag on the table and began to unpack their food.

"Yeah, sure, I set a mean table." Lucy laughed, then patted him on his back between his shoulder blades. Her hand lingered there as she asked, "Do you want something to drink?"

"Water is fine," he replied. She walked away to get him a glass, but he still felt warmth where she'd touched him.

The time they spent together was a welcome distraction from their grief; a brief, fleeting rest from the sadness that had marked the last week of their lives. As they ate, Tim again felt how he had the morning after she'd spent the night at Nolan's. He'd contemplated the feeling in the days after, landing on a definition that he hesitated to speak aloud. It was much too early to say certain words, he knew, but in the privacy of his mind, he could acknowledge it by name.

Not love. Never, ever love. That had been his thought months ago, and he had never been happier to be proven wrong.

It was love he felt for Lucy. Early love, yes; the small and humble beginnings of it, but nonetheless there it was, undeniable and true. When had his feelings turned into love? He couldn't be sure. It was possible that nothing new had grown between them, possible -likely, even- that what changed was not a feeling, but he himself. As it was, he soaked up the pleasure of her presence almost greedily, certain he would never get enough of her, and committed to memory every laugh, every smile. Even the handful of jokes she made at his expense, he wanted to remember always. Her fingers brushed his when she offered to take his empty plate after dinner, and Tim was nearly overcome by the impulse to take her hand, to hold it; to hold her, for as long as she would let him. He stopped himself, however, his promise to the captain giving him pause. He could not in good conscience break it now that she had died, and was more determined than ever to get Lucy to the end of the probationary year, to honor Captain Andersen's memory by bringing her through training successfully. He knew he could not do that if he began crossing lines. Well, more than had already been crossed, anyway.

… But keeping his word would be no simple thing, Tim thought as Lucy hugged him goodbye at the end of the night. One of his hands coursed a short, soothing pattern from her shoulder blade to the small of her back. Her face was buried in his neck, and she leaned her weight against him, leaving no space in between. When she released him a few moments later, the sudden absence made him ache for her embrace, a hunger -a want- that settled in the center of his body. He knew he would have to tread carefully going forward.

With Lucy, it was too easy to pretend that the world beyond her arms did not exist.

Tim was a little surprised to see Angela waiting by his truck one evening after work. He noticed she did not greet him with her usual cheer, and could tell by her expression that whatever was on her mind weighed heavily. She asked to speak with him privately. He agreed, and both took a seat in the cab of his truck. Tim planned to wait until she spoke; consequently, there was a long, awkward pause as she worked up whatever nerve was necessary to reveal her news.

"Wesley and I are seeing each other again," she said.

"That's good, right?" he asked uncertainly, given that her demeanor indicated otherwise.

Angela nodded slowly. "Yeah… yeah."

He glanced at her. "Are you sure?"

She sighed. "He called me after Andersen died. Said he wanted to be there for me."

"And has he been?"

"Yeah, he has. He's been great." She slouched in the passenger seat, and he noted she ran the pad of her thumb over her timer a few times before looking up again. "I guess I'm just looking for affirmation."

"Affirmation?"

"Yeah. That I'm making the right choice." She chuckled sadly, adding, "That I'm not going to fuck this up again."

Tim wished he could tell her that for certain. As it was, he replied, "You're asking the wrong man, Lopez. I mean, I don't exactly have the best track record here."

"I think I'm scared of hurting him," Angela continued. "I'm not good at relationships. I've never really had one. Not like this."

"I don't think you can avoid it, Angela. You're both going to mess up at some time or another. You may not mean to do it, but you're only human. You'll say the wrong thing, or you'll do the wrong thing-"

"-Like go through his phone?" she interrupted.

"… Yeah. Like go through his phone." He looked at his wrist, gaze falling to the watch that covered his timer. On the spectrum of sins against soulmates, Tim was certain how he'd treated Lucy was significantly worse than snooping through a few text messages. "I think it's what you do after that matters." He'd fucked up with Lucy right from the start, practically from the moment they met. He had only recently begun to own his mistakes, to quietly offer the love she'd wanted and deserved from the very beginning. It was a testament to Lucy's goodness and kind heart that she didn't make him plead his way back into her favor, forgiving his frequent failures with a grace that bordered on saintly.

Beside him, Angela laughed. "'What you do after'? You mean, like, sex?"

Tim snorted, knowing she was joking. "I meant making amends."

"Ah, I see." With a mischievous glint in her eye, she added, "And then sex."

"You know, I thought you were trying to have a serious conversation here."

"It's funny you think I'm kidding," she retorted, then pulled down the passenger side mirror to give her reflection a glance. "Since I have you," she said as she applied a fresh layer of lipgloss, "we should go out. We haven't hung out in a while now that you're so busy studying."

He cringed a little at her comment, knowing he hadn't studied nearly enough and feeling secretly guilty over that fact. To her offer, Tim asked, "Anywhere in particular that you'd like to go?"

"Not sure." Angela flipped the mirror back into place, then put on her seatbelt. "Let's drive around and see what catches our eye."

"… Guess this means I'm driving, huh?"

She grinned. "Look at you catching on so fast."

They ended up at a bar not too far from the station, a little, hole-in-the-wall type place they'd gone to only a handful of times before. The last time they'd been there, Angela had tried to wingman him into a few different hookups. Tim had been only too happy to usher her half-drunk ass out the door that night; luckily, she made no such attempts on his behalf this time. Instead, they had one cocktail each and spent a few hours catching up. She touched on their shared grief just briefly, saying in a tone of disbelief, "I still can't believe the captain is gone," before asking Tim, "How are you coping?"

"Just getting on with it, you know?" he replied.

It was all he knew to do, and lately, his own mourning hadn't been at the forefront of his mind. Tim got the feeling Lucy wasn't handling the loss all that well, and the notion was confirmed when she announced one morning without any lead-up, "I'm having trouble sleeping."

Tim looked her way. He could have guessed as much, having noticed the dark circles beneath her eyes and the distinct lack of energy she'd met him with over the last few shifts. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Just having nightmares."

"About?"

"About the captains' funeral. About her mother. I guess maybe it's bothering me because I haven't talked to my own mom in…" Lucy paused to count. "Wow. Four months."

"Maybe," Tim agreed, "but it could also bother you because it's sad, you know."

"Do you think I should try to talk to them?"

"Do you want to?"

"I don't know. This is the longest we've gone without speaking."

"That doesn't really answer the question."

Lucy sighed. "I'm worried it won't go well. What if I make things worse? Or what if they respond with something drastic? What if they won't talk to me unless I give up the job?"

He didn't respond immediately, feeling ill-equipped to answer such a question. Truthfully, he felt like he was the last person someone should ask about reconnecting with estranged parents. His own father was in the same damn city, and they mutually decided to keep their distance (it might have been the only thing they'd ever agreed on). Still, he tried to be understanding, replying "I get it. I know if my mom were still around, I'd want a relationship with her, but not at the expense of what makes you you. You love being a police officer." He paused to smirk, then added slyly, "You're not too bad at it either."

"High praise," she snarked. "You know, I think that's only the second time I've heard you talk about your mom."

Tim inhaled sharply. He rarely spoke of his mother to anyone, having guarded her memory closely since his youth, but could tell by Lucy's tone that she was eager to learn more. "What do you want to know?"

"What was her name?"

"Faye." It was the first time in years that he'd spoken her name.

There was a smile in Lucy's voice as she repeated, "Faye," trying the name out for herself. It was a strange sensation, hearing his long-deceased mother's name on his soulmate's lips. Strange, but special, somehow. "That's really pretty."

That was not the end of Lucy's questions. She asked several more, and Tim's hesitation waned as he shed his reluctance and offered his memories up freely. He told her his mother had been kind ("nicer than me" had been his exact words), and that she liked to garden. She favored lilies, and telling Lucy so brought to mind rows of orange tiger lilies whose maroon-colored pollen made his nose itch fiercely as a young boy. She'd been a preschool teacher. He'd gotten his blue eyes from her. She had a collection of Ella Fitzgerald albums when he was growing up, and that memory came coupled with an unpleasant one: the image of his father pawning the records shortly after she died. He winced, but decided to keep that part to himself.

"Do you think…" Lucy began, then thought better of it. When Tim pressed, she asked, "Do you think she would've liked me?"

"Are you kidding? You've been a pain in my ass since day one," he teased. A good pain in the ass, to be sure. One who kept him in line, who pushed him; one who inspired him. Lucy had become the guiding hand at his back, the steady presence that walked him through the very worst. She'd seen him at his lowest and didn't balk or stumble. She made it clear when she expected better out of him, and Tim knew he would spend the rest of his life trying to be a man worthy of her. Who wouldn't wish that for their child? Who wouldn't want to see them settled with a partner who both met them where they were and believed wholeheartedly in everything that they could be? "She would've been crazy about you."

Tim had known there was a chance the next captain would not be so understanding to him and Lucy, that whoever came next would not be so kind, but even that expectation did not prepare him for the utter incompetence that was Captain Fucking Weatherby.

Captain Weatherby, as far as Tim could tell, had transferred out of patrol work as soon as he could and desk-hopped in different departments, gradually working his way up the ranks through a combination of bureaucracy and a general lack of offensive personality. Once installed, he wasted no time passing down regulations that made no sense to anyone working the day-to-day beats. He left Sergeant Grey the undesirable job of delivering every new asinine order, and Weatherby had occupied the position for less than a month when he called Tim and Lucy both in for a meeting.

"Any clue what this is about?" Lucy asked as they walked towards the captain's office.

Given that no positive changes had yet occurred, Tim replied, "No, but my gut tells me it's nothing good."

His gut was correct. Weatherby, having already cemented his place as an annoyance in Tim's mind, was upgraded to a total dick after grilling Tim and Lucy over their status as soulmates. It was painfully clear that he did not believe either party's insistence that everything had remained above board, with Weatherby going so far as to accuse Tim of going easy on Lucy during her training. Tim managed to reply, "Not a chance, sir," but the bite that presented itself over the word sir threatened to give away his irritation. When the captain's gaze turned towards Lucy, Tim felt himself bristle, hackles raising. Captain or not, he was prepared to defend her from unfair scrutiny.

He did not need to do so, though, because Captain Weatherby did not address Lucy even once. All he said in her direction was, "We'll see. We'll see." An ominous set of sentences, that, and then they were dismissed.

Sergeant Grey led the pair to his office after, shutting the door behind Lucy. Even if they had no advocate in the captain, Tim knew Grey was likely on their side. "Sir, is there any way to change his mind?" he asked.

"Change his mind?" Sergeant Grey scoffed. "The man is looking at getting rid of the M&Ms in the vending machine because he read an article on Facebook about the dangers of red dye number 40. If he decides to split you two up, there's nothing any of us can do to stop him," he leaned against his desk, "but it doesn't sound like he's decided yet. Want my advice? Don't make waves. Keep your protocols locked in. Attract as little attention as possible until this all blows over."

It wasn't Tim's habit to glide under the radar, but at the sergeant's advice, he tried to do just that. Protocols were already locked in, but he decided to shore up goodwill where he could. A few days after they met with Weatherby, Tim volunteered to work a mutual aid call with Nolan. His public reason for volunteering was because "Nolan and I haven't had a chance to bond yet," but he disclosed the truth to Lucy privately before she went out on patrol with Bishop for the day.

"It could take some of the heat off of us if we work separately when we can," he revealed in a whisper, and she nodded, both agreeing and understanding.

He and Nolan changed back into their civvies, then convened at the garage to take one of the unmarked vehicles to the safe house, where their services had been requested. Once there, they were met by a smartly dressed man who introduced himself as Sean Del Monte, the ADA overseeing the individual in custody. He gave them a quick rundown as they walked towards the house.

"His name is Brad Hayes," Del Monte began. "Worked border patrol down in Temecula. Made his way up to second in command, then started helping the other side. Charged cartels a fortune to smuggle people in and out, and now he's naming names." As he spoke, Tim took note of the property, committing to memory the number of windows, the exits, and every possible point of weakness that could lead to a breach.

As they entered, they were greeted by a man who sat at the dining room table reading a newspaper. Hayes, after saluting sarcastically, said, "Good morning, warden."

The job was described as straightforward, with their only objective being to keep Hayes hidden and, more importantly, safe. Tim instructed Nolan to do a sweep of the interior, which he did, reporting back with more info after a few minutes. The house had two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small attic. Sight lines were blocked from the east.

Not long after they arrived, Tim got a call on his city-issued phone. Del Monte was on the line, informing them that a credible threat had been discovered; a cartel had put a hit out on Hayes, and what was meant to be a simple protection detai suddenly became exponentially more dangerous. For the time being, their orders remained the same; stay put, and continue guarding Hayes. They were waiting for word on whether the safe house had been compromised, uncertainty putting both officers on edge when suddenly the house began to shake. Framed pictures fell off the walls, landing on the floor with a crash. A lamp in the corner toppled over. All three men scrambled to find stability during the long seconds where the earthquake dragged on. As soon the pitching stopped, Tim stood to his feet.

His first thought was Lucy. Of course, it was of Lucy, somewhere out there in the city, and his hand raised on instinct to grip his wrist, fingertips brushing over the band of his watch. He was tempted to check his timer, knowing seeing a green screen would at least confirm her safety. After a brief, internal struggle, Tim resisted. He had a job to do, and with the threat against Hayes and now the quake, there was no shortage of danger facing him and Nolan both. Hadn't he promised her he'd try to be safe? Focus, he thought, and though it took effort, he managed to set aside his worry for the moment. Lucy was an intelligent, capable woman, he reminded himself, trying to cling to that fact as a comfort. Not only that, but she was with Talia. There were few people on the planet he trusted more to keep Lucy safe, if need be.

"Watch him," he ordered Nolan, pointing to Hayes before rushing up the stairs. His new objective was to make sure the house remained intact, knowing even one broken window left them wide open for a breach. On his way up, he tried to radio for an update, but there was no signal. The phone lines were tied up, too; he couldn't get a call to connect on either his city phone or his personal one. Luckily, the house had sustained no damage, but the sound of a thud and a scuffle made Tim turn to rush back down the stairs while palming his weapon. He rounded the banister just in time to see Nolan snapping cuffs around Hayes' wrists.

"What the hell is going on down here?" he asked sternly. "You all right?"

Nolan nodded, sounding a little out of breath as he replied, "Yes, sir. Nothing I can't handle. Any word on the hit?"

"Can't get through on the phone or the radio. I think we're on our own."

On their own, but they soon learned they were not alone. An earthquake was not enough to deter the hitmen, and when Tim heard the sound of movement upstairs (How the hell did they get in? he thought) he ordered Nolan and Hayes to both be on guard. With the house officially compromised, they had no choice but to go on the move. A spray of bullets just missed them as they made a quick exit in a car Tim had had to commandeer for their purposes. They couldn't go back to the station; the cartel would expect that, for one thing, and the roads were a mess from the earthquake. It would be difficult to make it back to Mid-Wilshire, and being stuck on the highway was not much better than being a sitting duck in a compromised safe house. Nolan pitched the idea of escaping to a nearby stretch of beach, which was far from ideal, but with few options at their disposal anyway, it was better than nothing. At least the beach had a few structures, bathhouses and restrooms that could serve as cover in a pinch. They had just posted up in a small lifeguard building when they finally got a signal again on their city phones, and a message came through from Del Monte.

"The hit team wasn't trying to kill Hayes. They were trying to rescue him." Tim said, reading the message aloud for Nolan's sake before turning to glare at Hayes. "You were in on it the whole time?"

"No," Hayes replied unconvincingly, then admitted, "Okay, yeah, I was in on it. Forgive me for not wanting to be a barista in Middle of Nowhere, America."

While Nolan continued to question him, Tim searched their charge. In the sole of his left shoe, he located a tracker. "You son of a bitch."

Seeing the tracker, Hayes smirked. "Would you believe me if I said that's not mine?"

Tim weighed their options quickly. If his only goal was to save their skins, he could just turn him over to the cartel. Hayes himself made the case for it, but neither officer was interested in letting him go. Instead, Tim forced Hayes to his knees, and Nolan cuffed him to the railing that ran the length of the deck. The hitmen -Tim counted three- circled the building, and a firefight ensued. Tim managed to disarm one through some covert maneuvering. From there, it was easier to overpower the remaining two men, who dropped their guns before kneeling in the sand. Nolan called for backup. A few minutes later, the men from the cartel were picked up by two other officers, leaving Tim and Nolan alone to deal with Hayes.

To the very end, Hayes was smarmy and unapologetic. Though he didn't allude to his now-ruined immunity deal, he still tried to charm Tim and Nolan. "Come on, guys. Can you blame me? A face this handsome would be wasted in the southwest. I burn too easily."

Del Monte was waiting at the station when they returned with Hayes in cuffs. While another officer took him to processing, Tim and Nolan stayed behind to speak with the attorney.

Tim addressed Del Monte first, and he did not attempt to temper his anger even slightly. "Your team was supposed to give Hayes a thorough pat-down. We could've been killed because of their negligence."

Del Monte refused to take the blame, deflecting, "It wasn't negligence. The deputy who did the pat-down confessed to slipping Hayes the tracker. He's in custody now, too." The attorney looked tired, even pained, by the whole ordeal, which Tim felt was really fucking rich, considering he had never at any point been in peril. "Thanks for your help, officers," he said to end the conversation, nodding curtly to both men before walking away.

"That fucking…" he started to grumble beneath his breath but was interrupted by the cell phone in his pocket buzzing. A message had come through, not on his city phone, but on his personal one; a single text from Lucy.

Please let me know you're okay when you can.

"Oh, thank God," he whispered, which Nolan caught.

"Everything okay, sir?"

"Yeah," Tim replied, gesturing with his phone. "Text just came through from Lucy." He typed out a quick response. I'm okay. Nolan too. Are you?

All's well here.

"Is she okay?" Nolan asked.

Tim nodded. "Yea, she's okay." The relief he felt could barely be contained, and for whatever reason, it put a smile on Nolan's face. "What's that look for, Boot?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Nothing, my ass. What is it?"

Nolan weighed his reply carefully. "Can I… speak freely, sir?"

"This isn't the military, Nolan. You can say whatever you want." Well, sort of. "You might get called a dumbass, but you can say whatever you want."

He started hesitantly, and with a question. "Do you remember the day Lucy came to Mid-Wilshire?"

As if he could forget. "Yes, I do. What's your point?"

"Right. I guess that is a silly question. Of course, you remember." Then Nolan leveled him with a stare that bordered on icy. It might have been the first time he had ever seen the other man look almost severe. "I remember, too, you know."

"… Oh." Tim understood. Understood, not just what Nolan meant, but why he'd wanted reassurance before speaking freely. He knew he could put an end to the conversation, and with anyone else, Tim might have. Not with Nolan, though; he recognized the important role this man had played in his soulmate's life. It didn't seem right to silence him for the sake of his pride.

"Lucy's my friend," Nolan continued, "and it was really hard for her at the beginning. She was… well, to be honest, sir, she was pretty heartbroken."

Tim felt humbled, and rightfully so. "I know."

"It's different now, though, sir. Isn't it? Tell me it's different now."

Two possible responses came to mind, and both were appealing for separate reasons. On the one hand, he could've skirted the question entirely. He could've bowed out of answering and made up some excuse, like how it was not the time nor place for such a conversation. Equally tempting was to list all the ways merely existing in Lucy's orbit had changed him, or to call by name the affection that filled his heart to bursting every time he looked into her eyes, just so he could put her friend at ease.

In the end, simple honesty won out. He would not tell him everything, but he would tell him enough. "Yes, Nolan," Tim confessed quietly, and although he found the word too narrow, confirmed, "It is different now."

A/N:

Pushed this update out early because they STILL haven't dropped the season 5 trailer and I'm getting antsy! Anyway, HELLO WHO IS THIS LOVESTRUCK FOOL AND WHAT HAS HE DONE WITH TIMOTHY BRADFORD?! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I loved writing it. I can't wait to hear what you guys think of it. Only four-ish weeks to go until season 5!
Next update will be September 7th! See y'all then! Thank you for reading!