Tensions and A Nursery

Today has been a tough one on the job. Lucy may have only experienced it on desk duty at the station but it is impossible to not be made upset by today's most prevalent case – especially when heavily pregnant.

There was a kidnapping of three children from neighbouring houses in what is a nice area in Los Angeles. The houses around there are worth a couple of million each and are owned by celebrities and bankers and whatnot. The kidnapped children were Charlie and Aria Randall, and William Darling, who were taken at sunrise. By midday a ransom demand was issued and by six o'clock the Randall children were reunited with their parents whilst poor William was found dead in a ditch. The suspects were found but the day has hardly felt like a success, not when someone so young lost their life.

Tim had the unfortunate task with Lopez to deliver the death notification to Mr and Mrs Darling who turns out are currently struggling financially, and could not get together the ransom money in time. He's been understandably muted ever since. He couldn't bring himself to eat dinner and as Lucy sits in the living room, the TV on but she's not paying it any attention, she's worried about the man she loves.

Lucy shifts uncomfortably on the couch, her swollen belly making it difficult to find any position that feels right. The day has been long, and a heavy sense of concern lingers in her chest. She has barely seen Tim since he's been home and although she knows it will be good for him to talk things through, she doesn't want to put any kind of pressure on him. Things have been so good between them since getting back together, even if they have tried to take things slow, that she doesn't want to do anything that could jeopardise that – but still she has a strong desire to at least check that he's okay.

With a quiet groan, she pushes herself up, her hands intuitively cradling her belly as she stands. Her back aches, but the weight of her concern outweighs the discomfort in her body. She pads quietly through the living room, the cool wood floors creaking slightly beneath her feet. The house is still new to them, boxes half-unpacked in the corners, but it is already starting to feel like home. A warm, comforting space where they will build their new life together.

Lucy wanders to the foot of the stairs, her hand resting on the banister for balance. She pauses, glancing upwards, expecting to see light spilling from the main bedroom at the top. But what she sees makes her brow furrow.

Curiously, the nursery light is on.

The nursery is far from finished, still a work in progress, with unassembled furniture and the scent of fresh paint lingering in the air. They haven't spent much time in there yet, still wrapping their heads around the enormity of it all. She was not expecting anyone to be in there, not tonight, not when so much else is on their minds.

Slowly, she begins to climb the stairs, her breath steady but her mind racing. Why is Tim in there?

As Lucy reaches the top of the stairs, her heart softens at the sight before her. Through the partially open door of the nursery, she spots Tim, crouched by the far wall. He has a paintbrush in hand, carefully filling in a delicate leaf stencil with a green paint, the same shade they'd both agreed would bring a calming feel to the room. It is where the crib will go, once it's out of the box and assembled – another task they haven't got around to yet.

Tim's movements are slow and precise, his head tilted slightly as if deep in thought. His brow is dipped, not from the concentration of the task, but from something else on his mind. She can tell just from the set of his shoulders and the way his lips are pressed into a thin line.

Lucy leans against the doorframe for a moment, watching him quietly. It is touching to see him here, working on the nursery without her even knowing, and it makes her heart pang with both love and a nagging worry. She knows the stress of today won't have left him, understandably so, but that doesn't make it easy to witness. "Tim?" She calls gently, her voice breaking the quiet. He doesn't startle but does pause to set down the paintbrush in its tray, the stencil remaining stuck to the wall with a little bit of tape.

"Oh, hey." He says, offering her a small smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I didn't hear you come up."

Lucy steps inside the room, her hand instinctively resting on her bump. "I was looking for you." She glances at the wall where the leafy pattern is coming together. "What are you doing in here?"

Tim sighs softly and looks back at the wall. "Just… wanted to get a little more done. Figured I'd start on this while I had a minute." His words are calm, but Lucy can sense the undercurrent of unease beneath them. The room still feels half-done, like so many things in their lives currently.

She moves closer, reaching out to gently touch his arm. "It is like you are not here right now." She tells him carefully. "Talk to me."

For a moment, he doesn't respond, staring at the wall as if searching for something in the pattern he is creating. Then, his shoulders sag a little, the tension melting away just enough to let the truth slip through. "That kid today was only eight." He starts, his voice low as if he's trying his hardest to keep his emotions in check. "I have delivered countless death notifications before including for children but..." He trails off, struggling to find the words.

"You weren't bracing yourself for fatherhood then." She finishes for him, understanding immediately.

He nods, finally turning to face her fully. "Our daughter isn't even here yet and I was putting myself in their shoes." There is a vulnerability in his eyes that she rarely sees, and it tugs at her heart.

Lucy squeezes his arm gently. "That's understandable. There will be things we find harder at work when we become parents."

Tim's frown deepens slightly, his gaze shifting back to the wall. "I thought I would start to get things ready for her instead of just being sad. I want this place to be perfect."

"It will be." She reassures him. "One step at a time. Maybe tonight, we should just go to bed. I could do with you holding me."

Tim looks down at her, the frown easing just a little. "Okay." He murmurs, though the worry still clings to the frame of his tone. "I do want to get this finished this weekend though."

Lucy smiles softly, stepping closer to rest her head on his chest, smiling wider when he naturally wraps his arms around her.

xxx

She's not quite sure why she agreed to this. On the face of it, it may just be lunch with her mother, but it is also lunch with a woman who has spent the past however months testing her – but at least it's free food.

They're at a bistro which is one of Vanessa Chen's favourite places to eat. Lucy sits across from her, idly tapping her fingertips against her glass of water as she tries to focus on the conversation. The faint hum of chatter and the clinking of silverware surrounds them, but Lucy can't quite shake the tension that settled the moment they sat down. Her mother has been chattering on about some distant family drama involving relatives that she barely knows, but of course it doesn't take long for the subject of her unborn child to come up. "How have you been? You look like you're about to burst."

Perhaps to some people hearing this kind of comment from their mother would fill them with warmth because an interest has been taken, but to Lucy it feels like it is coming from a place of judgement. When she revealed her pregnancy, her mother was clearly disappointed and they didn't speak at all for almost a month. Now whenever they do communicate or are in the same room as each other, the relationship seems strained. "I've been okay. Looking forward to what's next." She replies simply, not wanting to give too much away.

"Have you thought of names?" Her mother asks, setting down her glass of sparkling water with a calculated smile.

"Yeah... well, I've always liked Mia." Lucy replies, trying to keep her voice even. She hadn't wanted to talk about names just yet, especially not with her mother, but it seems like there is no avoiding it.

"Mia." Her mother repeats back but with a completely different inflection to Tim's affectionate reaction. Mia has been a name she's secretly loved since her teenage years, and when she mentioned this to Tim he smiled at the sound of it, being nothing but supportive. But here, with her mother, the same name appears to take on a different tone. "Mia Chen. Interesting."

Lucy feels her stomach tighten, recognising where this conversation is heading. She clears her throat. "Well, it would be Bradford-Chen." She corrects, trying to sound casual, though her nerves are starting to fray.

Her mother raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow, her lips curving into a smile that doesn't seem genuine. "Really? Have you finally come to your senses and decided to get married?"

Lucy feels her frustration flare, heat rising to her cheeks. "That's not what I meant." She mutters, trying to keep her voice calm but knowing she is starting to lose the battle. It is always the same with her mother – an endless string of veiled judgments and passive-aggressive nudges toward what she thinks is the right way to live.

Her mother leans back in her chair, folding her arms. "Well, it would make things a lot simpler. You wouldn't want your child to grow up with a complicated situation now, would you?"

Lucy's grip on her glass tightens as her pulse quickens. She takes a deep breath, forcing herself to respond carefully. "What does that even mean, Mom?"

Vanessa Chen waves a hand dismissively. "You know exactly what I mean. Children do better with stability, Lucy. A proper family."

Lucy's frustration turns into anger. She can feel her jaw clench as her knee nervously bounces under the table. "Mom, we've talked about this. Tim and I are committed to each other, and to our baby. Marriage doesn't suddenly make everything perfect."

Her mother clicks her tongue disapprovingly, her expression a painting of pity. "That's what you think now. But mark my words, Lucy, a child deserves the security of married parents. You don't want them growing up like-"

"Like me? A bastard." Lucy snaps before she can stop herself. Her voice is sharp, and she regrets the words the moment they leave her lips. But it's too late.

Her mother's face stiffens, a flicker of emotion crossing her usually composed features. "That's not what I meant."

Lucy exhales, her frustration bubbling over. "Isn't it, though? You always push this idea of a perfect family, but my childhood wasn't exactly picture-perfect, was it? The man I call dad doesn't share my blood because you-" She stops herself, but the truth hangs heavily between them.

Her mother's expression turns icy. "That was different. I was doing what was best for us at the time."

Lucy's heart pounds in her chest. "And I'm doing what's best for my family now. Whether Tim and I get married or not, we're going to do what is best for us and our daughter."

For a long moment, her mother says nothing, just studies Lucy with a look that is impossible to read. Finally, she picks up her glass, taking a measured sip before setting it down again with a quiet clink. "Just think about it." Is the reply, her voice no longer sharp but still holding the familiar note of control.

Lucy doesn't respond immediately, her upset still simmering just below the surface. She knows this isn't the last time they will have this conversation, but for now, she is too tired to fight. "I'm just going to use the restroom."

She gets up without waiting for her mother's reaction, dropping the napkin that was on her lap on the table. Lucy does her best at focusing on her breathing as she strides through the restaurant and to the back where the bathrooms are situated. She's grateful that there's no one in there so she can allow herself to groan out loud.

Pulling her phone from her pocket she doesn't hesitate to message Tim, '911', before she's shaking her head at herself because she shouldn't do anything that may cause him to panic. 'Okay maybe I am being a tad dramatic.' She adds quickly and it isn't long before three dots pop up on her screen as he types.

'What's happened? Are you okay?' He questions and she sighs at herself, mentally chastising that she's caused alarm.

'I am fine but why did I agree to do this? Her opinion is never going to change on our situation.'

She has time to run her wrists under cold water to cool herself down before his reply comes. 'I'm sorry it's rough. Maybe I should have come too as a buffer. I will look after you later I promise x'

And she cannot wait for later to come.

xxx

Lucy trudges through the front door, her entire body aching from the exhausting lunch with her mother. Her feet throbs in her shoes, her back is on fire, and every step feels like a monumental effort. She closes the door behind her with a grunt, rubbing the small of her back as she drops her bag on the hallway table.

Tim is waiting for her, standing just inside the living room with a tired grin and an outstretched hand. "Thought you could use this." He says, holding out a bottle.

Lucy squints at him, suspicion creeping into her weary eyes. "Are you handing me a beer?" She asks, her hand instinctively resting on her swollen belly as she hesitates to take it.

"It's alcohol-free." Tim clarifies quickly, although the grin doesn't leave his face.

She gives him a look of disdain, one eyebrow arching in disbelief. "Really?"

"Hey, it's the thought that counts!" He defends, his grin faltering slightly but still playful. Lucy sighs but takes the bottle anyway, unscrewing the cap with a reluctant twist. She has a sip, though the taste only earns an unimpressed smirk.

Tim watches her carefully as she toes off her shoes, her exhaustion more than evident. "Was it that bad?" He asks.

Lucy takes a deep breath, the frustration brewing inside her resurfacing. "She was talking about marriage again." She begins, her voice tinged with irritation. "Just so our child isn't a bastard, or some shit like that." Her hand moves protectively over her bump as she rants. "She has the audacity to lecture me about some fairy-tale family when my father – my adoptive father, I should say – is just that! My biological father was a patient she had an affair with, so I am technically a bastard!"

Tim's eyes widen slightly from the shock of her tone, but he stays quiet, letting her continue. "I just… I don't understand her. She's talking about marriage like it's this fix-all solution, but who knows what the future holds? We've only been back together for a couple of months, Tim. Maybe it'll work out, maybe it won't. Maybe you don't even want to get married again, or maybe you'll get sick of me—"

"Woah, woah, woah." Tim interrupts, his voice gentle but firm. He steps closer, carefully taking the bottle from her hand and setting it on the nearest surface to them. His hands find hers, warm and steady, grounding her in this moment. "Lucy…"

She meets his gaze, her anger beginning to melt into something else, something softer, more vulnerable. "You're right." He says in a calm voice. "Neither of us can see into the future, but I can tell you this… I'm not going to get sick of you." His hands squeeze hers reassuringly. "I love you. And I'm not against getting married again, but we'll figure that out in our own time. Not because your mom wants it, or because of anyone else."

Lucy feels her chest tighten, the weight of the day slowly lifting as Tim's words sink in. She lets out a breath she didn't realise she was holding, her shoulders dropping as she steps into him, resting her forehead against his chest. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her into a warm, steady embrace.

For a moment, they remain like this, embracing each other in the quiet of their home with the noise of the day fading away. Lucy feels her heart slow, her breathing steady as Tim's arms tighten around her, anchoring her to the present. "I love you too." She murmurs against his chest, feeling the warmth of his body seep into her tired limbs.

Tim kisses the top of her head before pulling back slightly. "Do you want to see what I've been up to today?"

Lucy blinks up at him, a curious smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "What have you been up to?"

Tim's grin returns, this time brighter, more genuine. "Come on, I'll show you." He says, leading her to the staircase and then up them towards the nursery. He pauses momentarily outside the room with a playful expression on his face, allowing the anticipation to build.

Lucy lightly elbows him, displaying her lack of patience earning a chuckle from her partner as he opens the door and steps aside to let her in. As she walks into the room, her eyes widen, and she automatically places a hand over her mouth in surprise.

The room is stunning. The walls are a pale off-white that keep the space feeling airy and bright, but one wall has been transformed into a lush jungle scene. Delicate green leaves are stencilled in graceful patterns, trailing up from the skirting boards towards the ceiling, giving the room a gentle, serene energy. Mixed among the leaves are jungle-themed details: a curious monkey peeking out from behind a vine, a tiny elephant marching near the floor, and birds perched amidst the greenery. It is simple yet so beautifully crafted, each detail placed with care.

Against that wall, the crib is now fully assembled – a gorgeous piece made of natural wood with olive green accents on the edges, tying the whole theme together. The other pieces of furniture are made of the same natural wood, with subtle olive touches that bring cohesion to the room. It is the perfect blend of natural, earthy tones with the placid spirit of a child's room. Even the rug underfoot is a soft, woven material in shades of cream and green.

Lucy's breath catches in her throat as she takes it all in. "Tim." She whispers, turning to him, her eyes glistening with adoration. "It's perfect."

He smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I wanted it to be ready. For her… and for you. Figured it'd help make it all feel real, you know?"

Lucy steps further into the room, her fingers brushing against the edge of the crib, and she feels a wave of love wash over her. "I can't believe you did all of this. It's beautiful."

Tim comes up behind her, wrapping his arms gently around her waist, resting his hands lightly on her belly. "I'm glad you like it." He murmurs. "I wanted it to feel like home for all of us."

Lucy turns in his arms to face him, her heart swelling with gratitude and love. "It already does." She leans into him, resting her head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "Be honest though, did Nolan help you with any of this?"

"No!" He exclaims, pulling back so he can stare at her in the face with a smirk on his. "This is all Tim Bradford." She smiles, but that smile turns into a wince when she experiences a sudden tightness to her belly making him worried. "What is it? Am I hurting you?" He panics and steps back so that her bump isn't pressed between them.

"It isn't you." But the sensation spreads, a sharp, squeezing pressure that makes her gasp.

"What is it? Was that a contraction?"

Lucy exhales slowly, trying to shake off the discomfort. "I don't know." She mumbles, cradling her bump with two arms protectively. Another wave of tightening grips her core, this one sharper. They've read the literature, they've been to the antenatal classes, but she cannot say for sure that this is what it is. "Tim it's too soon." Her breath shudders and he affectionately takes hold of one of her hands, frowning because of how tight she holds his.

"Let's get you to the bedroom, and I'll call the doctor, okay?" He sounds so calm but the subtle wideness to his blue eyes says otherwise.

"Okay." She agrees as a murmur.

With his arm wrapped securely around her waist, Tim guides Lucy out of the nursery and down the hall to their bedroom. Each step is slow and careful, Lucy grasping his arm as another tightening wave ripples through her. Her breaths are shallow, her mind racing through possibilities – is she in labour, or is this something else?

Once they reach the bedroom, Tim helps her onto the bed, propping up pillows behind her back so she can recline easily. He crouches beside the bed, his hand smoothing her hair back from her forehead as she exhales shakily. "Let's just breathe, okay?" His voice is steady despite the worry in his eyes. "Nice and slow."

Lucy nods, her eyes closed momentarily as she tries to focus on her breathing, but the pressure in her abdomen is hard to ignore. "Tim, what if this is real?" She whispers, fear creeping into her voice.

Tim's hand finds hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I will call the Doc just to be on the safe side, but remember they did mention, err, Brandon Hicks contractions at one of our classes."

"Braxton Hicks." Lucy corrects with a slight hint of a smile. "Who the hell is Brandon Hicks?"

He ponders this for a second whilst absentmindedly stroking a hand down her arm. "He might be a baseball player." He considers before adding, "Anyway, false labour. It can be triggered by stress or dehydration. Remember?"

Lucy swallows, nodding again, though the anxiety still flutters in her chest. This grows when he stands whilst retrieving his phone from his back pocket so he can call the doctor. She shifts slightly on the bed, trying to find a position that alleviates the discomfort. The pain isn't unbearable, but it is unsettling, unlike anything she has experienced before.

Tim makes the call just outside their bedroom door, his voice low as he speaks to the doctor on the phone. Lucy can hear snippets of the conversation such as descriptions of her symptoms and questions about what they should do, but her mind is racing too fast to focus on the details. She can feel the tension in her body, the stress of the day manifesting physically, and she hates how powerless she feels.

A few minutes later, Tim returns to her side, his expression more relaxed. "Okay, I talked to the doctor." He says, and clambers onto the bed to lay beside her. "She said it does sound like Braxton Hicks. It can happen from stress or overexertion. She wants you to drink some water, rest, and keep an eye on things. If it doesn't ease up, we'll go in."

Lucy lets out a breath. "So, I'm not in labour."

Tim shakes his head gently before moving so he's lying on his side facing her. "You're not, but you still need to take it easy. Your body's telling you it's had enough for today."

Lucy closes her eyes for a moment, the relief washing over her, though her body still feels heavy with tension. "I've been so wound up ever since I agreed to this lunch. I should've known this would happen."

"You weren't to know this would happen. Don't blame yourself. You've been under a lot of pressure, but it's okay to share that burden, you know?" His hand brushes over her bump tenderly. "I am your partner in crime here."

She nods and looks to him with a small, fatigued smile. "Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me." He tells her. "I'm going to get you some water, and then we're going to rest up. Maybe we can talk about what our baby girl's middle name will be…"

"Middle name?" Lucy questions and he hums. "So you're happy with her being called Mia?"

"Definitely! Did I not make that clear?" He dips his brow but before she can speak, he reveals, "I hope we are calling her Mia because I've ordered some wooden lettering of that name to hang above the crib." The nursery is already perfect in her eyes, she told him as such, but this will be quite the finishing touch. "Let me grab you that water and then we will talk. Did you need anything else?"

"Just you." Lucy tells him, feeling the tension in her body slowly begin to ease. Tim looks grateful at her words and is sure to press a loving kiss to her temple before standing. He peers over his shoulder at her briefly before heading to the kitchen, leaving her to sink into the pillows, her hand resting on her belly as she lets herself breathe. The fear is still there, lingering at the edges, but with Tim she knows that she isn't facing it alone.